When I got to the first turnout up the Waimea Canyon Road and couldn’t see anything I knew that my worst fears had come true. The fog had beaten me. If I’d just gotten up a little earlier I might have had a better chance of getting clear weather. But it was late morning now and things weren’t going to get better.
Kauai, the smallest of the major Hawaiian Islands, is a tropical paradise. But it’s also one of the wettest, mistiest places on earth when you get up into the mountains.
On a good day, hiking out to the cliffs of the Na Pali coast, the northern edge of the island, from Koke’e Park can be an unforgettable experience. On a bad day, which was what this was turning out to be, it can be a long stumble through swampland and mud, and when you reach the lookouts, there’s nothing except gray, clammy fog swirling around you.
What the hell. I’d had several great days here vacationing on the Garden Island and was in a mellow mood, helped by the company of a lanky young dude I’d picked up hitchhiking near Princeville two days ago. He seemed a bit shy at first, but melted pretty quickly once I’d gotten him back to my rented condo and plied him with a few beers. After that it was actually pretty easy to get him out of his board shorts. The milky skin inside his tan line made a startling contrast with the bronze of the rest of his buffed body. He sighed and grabbed my head when I inhaled his floppy cut dick, hanging with a nice pair of balls beneath a neat patch of pubic hair. I knelt on the carpet and sucked his load out of him, which he shot down my throat in long, hot spurts, moaning and thrashing on my living room couch.
I figured he was probably a curious straight guy and hadn’t expected much more, so I was floored when he said, “You haven’t cum yet. Got any rubbers?” Fortunately I’d remembered to pack the condoms. We retired to the bedroom, discarding the rest of our minimal clothing. Before the evening was over he’d ridden my pole while I lay on my back, taken my cock doggie-style on his hands and knees, and finally flopped onto his back, egging me on with whispered obscenities, jerking himself to a second cumming as I shot my long-delayed load into his talented ass.
Dan ended up bunking with me overnight. (I’d learned his name over breakfast the next morning.) He’d taken off yesterday to explore the Big Island–I drove him to the airport in Lihue. So I was by myself today as I pushed on, carefully steering around the sharp curves in the narrow road, dodging cars that came careening toward me. At the eighteen-mile marker the road came to an end at a parking lot. If I wanted to go further I’d have to hike. I was dressed to do just that, in khaki shorts, all-weather windbreaker over a t-shirt, and my oldest, most rugged boots. The trails here could be damn muddy and the red clay couldn’t be washed out once it got into your stuff.
I was going on the Pihea Trail, which follows a narrow ridge above the Alakai Swamp. Long ago men had tried to build a road here which would have circled the island, but had given up. It was a more or less smooth dirt path for the first half mile and I passed a lot of casual hikers, stout elderly couples in shorts clutching cameras, young guys with their girlfriends. Out of force of habit I kept an eye out for interesting looking single men, but I seemed to be the only guy out here by himself. There were occasional views off to the side but the fog wasn’t lifting.
After a mile the trail made a sharp turn inland, down into the swamp. Soon I was really glad for my sturdy shoes and old clothes–recent rains had turned much of the clay into slippery goo, and there were puddles of water between the rocks. I passed a quartet of hikers coming back up the trail who looked exhausted and dirty. My feet had given way under me a couple of times and I didn’t look that much better.
“Once you get to the boardwalk, it’s not so bad,” one of them reassured me.
I thanked the man and pushed onward. Sure enough, several hundred yards on a battered row of planks appeared. I continued along them, glad to be out of the mud. Now that I didn’t have to struggle just to stay upright, I started to look more closely at the terrain. To a casual eye it may have seemed just like another forest. But there were rare plants and flowers here, as well as birds found nowhere else in the world. This was their last refuge–predators that had decimated them on the other Hawaiian Islands hadn’t made it to Kauai. The air was clean and fresh. Green foliage dotted with bright red and yellow flowers surrounded me. Once in a while I heard a bird call. I had the feeling I was in another world.
I’d been walking for maybe half an hour, passing only an occasional lone hiker or couple, when a ray of sunshine broke through the cloud covering, illuminating a huge, irregularly shaped log completely covered in a fuzz of green moss, looking like a sleeping giant on the forest floor. This was worth a picture. I pulled my digital camera out of my backpack and started snapping away.
Just a few moments later the sun vanished and the world turned gray again, but at least I’d taken all the shots I’d wanted. I pulled my water bottle out of the pack I was carrying and took a drink. It was then that I looked back down the boardwalk and saw another hiker approaching. In just a few moments he was close enough for me to get a good look at him. I liked what I saw.
He was tanned like everyone in Hawaii, not as tall as Dan but equally hard and lean, dressed in a gray tank top and shorts that might have once been red but were now faded to a rusty brown. His shoes were stained with red clay like mine. His longish, untidy hair was a sun-streaked blond, and he sported a thin mustache in a style that was unfashionable right now but that went well with his angular features. He carried a small pack on his back.
I could see muscle and sinew rippling in his arms and legs as he walked toward me. All in all he was a fine specimen of young manhood and I felt my cock stir in the pouch of the jockstrap I was wearing. Unfortunately his shorts were too loose for me to size him up in that department, so to speak.
As he approached he nodded. He stopped, and his eye fell on my camera. “Getting any good shots?” he asked.
I shrugged. “There was sun a moment ago, but it’s gone now.”
“Yeah, not really a good day to come up here. It’s still nice, though.” The boy put his hands on his hips. “Not as many people around when it’s foggy. Just us and the endangered species.” He smiled, his teeth bright white against his tanned face. His eyes were a light green. He seemed in no hurry to leave. I had the feeling he was checking me out.
I met his gaze and held it, a fraction too long, then let my eyes drop to his crotch. “Yeah, just us,” I replied.
He blinked, his smile vanishing. “Well, see you around,” he said, then began walking rapidly away from me down the trail. Just my luck, another shy type. I shrugged and waited until he was a good distance away, then started heading down the boardwalk myself.
The boy must have really wanted to get away from me, because he soon vanished in the distance. After a while I came to a four-way intersection in the boardwalk, where the Pihea trail crossed the Swamp trail. I turned left here, planning to hike up to the highest lookout over the coast, Kilohana.
Soon the boardwalk turned into wooden steps heading down a steep hill. There was nothing but unbroken tropical forest, the atmosphere was peaceful and green, and I concentrated on the hike and pushed baser urges out of my mind. My leg muscles were aching and I was panting with exertion. Though it was cool the air was humid, and the sweat ran down my brow and down my chest and back. I’d taken off my windbreaker some distance back and tied it around my waist. Now I pulled off my moist T-shirt and stuffed in my pack.
At the bottom the boardwalk resumed and soon came to a shallow running stream. There on a rock on the opposite bank sat the boy I had met earlier. He had put on a pair of reflector sunglasses and was smoking a cigarette. Although he seemed to be looking in my direction, I couldn’t be sure since his eyes were hidden.
I nodded at him as I began to ford the stream. He responded with a brief incline of his head, but didn’t say anything. Still feeling a bit skittish about having come on to him earlier I didn’t make any attempt to talk this time, but clambered on up the hill on the other side.
After the climb the boardwalk disappeared, to my surprise. I was on a high ridge with mossy ground all around me. Just as the trail began to get really muddy the planks resumed, leading me through more marshy terrain. Tiny, stunted plants with red flowers were practically the only source of color here. The sun had come out only occasionally during the entire hike, and it was not going to appear now. The weird light and altitude made me feel lightheaded.
A gentle curve in the boardwalk, a short set of steps, one last turn and then, abruptly, the trail was at an end. I found myself on a rectangular wooden platform, a bench nailed to it at the back. This was the Kilohana Lookout, where you could see out across the Pacific and down into the monumental valleys of the northern coast of Kauai–if there was no fog. Past the edge of the platform, which unbelievably had no fence, was a huge drop, thousands of feet to the floor of the valley.
Right now I didn’t have a prayer of seeing anything except gray, swirling mist, which was a common experience for hikers who’d struggled up here. Oh, well. I might as well rest, catch my breath, and wait and see if the winds would lift the curtain, even for a moment.
I sat cross-legged on the platform, safely away from the edge, and listened to the rustle of the leaves around me. Far below me I could occasionally catch the roar of the ocean, but the fog seemed to muffle all sounds. I got out my water bottle and drained the last of it. It didn’t seem likely I was going to be able to see anything at all today. Soon I’d have to head back, but for the moment it was nice just sitting here, the wind cool on my sweaty chest and back.
I was jerked out of my reverie by clomping footsteps on the boards behind me. A moment later the boy I had encountered twice before on the trail stepped onto the platform. He cocked his head and grinned. “So you made it,” he said.
I shrugged. “Can’t see a thing today.”
“Oh well, you takes your chances,” he replied. He walked to the very edge and sat down with his legs dangling off the platform, heedless of the risk he was taking. After a moment he pulled out a cell phone from his pack and held it out in my direction. “Want to let someone know where you are?”
I shook my head. “Where am I, anyway?”
“On the edge of the world. Isn’t it fantastic?”
I had to agree. It seemed as if we were the only two humans on the planet, high on a mountaintop in a tropical wilderness, isolated by the rainforest and the fog. We sat without speaking. Once or twice the boy cast a quick glance at me, but I didn’t respond. The ball was in his court and he was going to have to make the next move.
He rose at last. I thought he was going to leave without saying anything, but he stopped by me and pointed to the empty water bottle I’d placed by my side. “Could I have that?”
I was surprised. “It’s empty.”
“That’s cool. I need to take a leak, and I’d rather not pollute this place.”
My interest immediately perked up. “Sure, okay.”
He came toward me and I handed him the plastic bottle. He took it and went to one side of the platform, turning his back to me. His hands unfastened something in front and his shorts slid partway down his slender hips. The tops of two pale butt cheeks and the crack between them came into view–a delicious sight. I felt my pulse quickening.
Over the rustling of the trees I heard the tinkle of his piss splashing into the bottle. He stood there relieving himself for what seemed like forever–he must have really needed to go. Finally he put the bottle down, more than half full of golden liquid. Then he turned toward me, readjusting and zipping up his shorts, but not before I’d gotten a glimpse of curly blond pubes framing a long flaccid dick and pink ball sack. I was sure he’d flashed his goods at me on purpose. By now my own cock was half hard and stretching the pouch of my jock.
“You’ve got good aim,” I told him. “Didn’t spill a drop.”
He grinned at me. “Thanks, man.” He pointed at the bottle. “Enough room left for you, if you need to go.”
I took the challenge. “Bring it here.”
He picked up the bottle and brought it toward me. I rose to my full height, aware of his eyes on my bare, hairy chest. I unfastened my own shorts and let them drop along with my windbreaker. He handed me the bottle and I pulled the pouch of my jock aside, exposing myself. I’d never been bashful about my body or its functions–it was easy for me to take hold of my meat, aim and let go.
He never took his eyes off of me as the level of pee in the bottle rose, stopping just short of overflowing. I shook the last few drops in as he handed me the cap. I put it on the bottle.
“There,” I said. “We didn’t pollute the environment.”
“You’re pretty good yourself with that thing,” he observed.
“Thanks,” I said, keeping hold of my cock as I stared into his eyes, jacking on it. I knew he’d like what he saw when I was done. Pretty soon it had risen to its full eight inches, standing vertical, almost reaching my navel, flaring purple crown proudly capping the thick shaft.
His eyes flicked down, then back up to mine. The boy licked his lips. “Nice cock.”
“Want to suck it?”
He got to his knees but didn’t take me in his mouth right away. instead he stared at my organ, his eyes intent. Then he reached up with one hand and grasped my shaft, stroking it gently, almost reverently. I closed my eyes, shivering at his silky touch.
He grabbed my butt and put his face in the pouch of my jock, inhaling deeply. Suddenly he took my cock all the way down to the root, burying his nose in my pubes. I gasped at the hot, wet pleasure that engulfed me, letting the plastic bottle I’d been holding fall to the boards with a thunk. then opened my eyes so I could watch him work. The boy’s eyes were closed, his lips tightly sealed on my hard shaft as he slid his head back and forth. I reached down and pulled his tank top upward, baring his back.
I knelt and opened his shorts, letting them fall. His cock sprang out, half hard. Up close it was even better, cut, long, veiny and with a slight bend in it that drove me wild. I took the dark purplish head in my mouth and rolled my tongue around the crown, drawing a soft moan.
“Yeah,” the boy said. “Suck it, man. Oh, yeah,” he cried as I took him all the way in, gagging slightly as his rod hit the back of my throat. His response delighted me and I slid my head back and forth with abandon, grabbing his shaft with one spit-coated hand and twisting it, then pulling on his low-hanging balls.
I decided to up the ante. I reached around and found the crack between his cheeks and let my finger wander down it until it found his asshole. It opened with just a little pressure-his back door had obviously been entered before. I snaked my digit into his warm, moist crevice and he moaned in response, his cries getting louder as I found the small, firm knob of his prostate and began working it.
“Oh, shit, fucking nice.”
Suddenly he pulled out of my mouth, walked the few steps to the bench at the back of the platform and dropped his shorts again so that his pale, perfect ass was bare to the world. Then he bent, grabbed the backrest, and looked back at me.
“Rubber’s in my pack.”
I nearly laughed out loud. He’d been playing shy back on the trail, but that was then, this was now. I pulled my shorts partway up and went to where he’d thrown his pack down. A quick rummage inside and I found the foil packet, tore it open and pulled out the prelubed ring of latex. I went back to the bench where my conquest waited.
“Hurry,” he said as I hooded myself and spit on the rubber to give him a little extra lube. “Someone might be coming.”
“Uh huh.” I found his hole again with the tip of my sheathed cock. Despite my recent finger-fuck it was tight shut again.
“Shove it in. Now!”
I stabbed my cock into him with a quick thrust. His head snapped up, his face twisted in pain as he took the invasion. I tried to back off a bit, but he stopped me with a strong hand on my hip.
“It’s okay. Do it.”
A gentle rain began to fall at that moment as I slid in and out of his butt, watching my sheathed rod disappearing into him. I turned my face up to the foggy sky and closed my eyes. I smelled the fresh air, listened to the ceaseless rustle of the rainforest and the roar of the ocean far below. There was nothing but the cool rain and gentle breeze on my skin and the thrusting of my hips and the hot tightness of his asshole engulfing my cock.
I bent down and felt the warmth of his body, drank in his scent, sweat mixed with tobacco. “How’re you doing?” I asked him.
“Fantastic. Fuck me hard. Make me cum.”
I stepped up the pace, driving into him as I grabbed his cock and jacked it, hard. In a few moments his breath began hissing through his clenched teeth. I felt his prick pulsing as it pumped hot semen into my hand. His asshole clutched my own cock inside him and sent me over the edge. “Aw fuck,” I whispered in his ear, my eyes screwed shut as I unloaded into the rubber.
After a moment I brought my sticky hand up to his mouth. “Eat it,” I said. He obeyed, slurping up his jizz and licking my hand clean. Just as he finished we heard faint voices somewhere up the hill. Footsteps were approaching on the boardwalk.
I never thought two human beings could move so fast. I ripped my cock out of his ass. We split apart, pulled up and readjusted our clothes. The boy grabbed the water bottle we’d filled with our urine and threw it into his pack, just as a man and woman appeared. They looked at us with startled expressions for a moment, then smiled, a bit uncertainly. We were still breathing hard, and must have looked a bit disheveled.
The boy spoke first. “Hi,” he said. “We were just leaving.”
“Can you see anything today?” the man asked. He was tall and blond, straight as an oak, and had a European accent.
“We didn’t see a thing,” I said. “But you might have better luck.”
We walked past the couple and onto the boardwalk, the boy ahead of me. When we were far enough away from the platform and out of earshot he turned to me and winked. “That was close.”
I nodded. “But worth it. What’s your name, anyway?”
He stopped and offered his hand. “Gabe.”
I said my name and held out my hand. He shook it, then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s still sticky.” We started walking again. I put on my windbreaker.
“Gabe, you’re a daredevil,” I said. “I like that.”
“So are you. I couldn’t believe it when you started pissing right in front of me. That was hot. Hey,” Gabe said, frowning, “What did you do with the rubber?”
I thought for a moment, then snickered. “I’m still wearing it.”
He raised his eyebrows as his tongue shot out from between his white teeth. “I’d love to take it off you when we get back.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. And,” I leered at him. “I’ve got fresh ones back where I’m staying.”
The rain was still falling, and we had a long way to go through the Kauai swamp. But I was looking forward to the trek home.
I snapped a picture of Gabe that day. It’s in one of my albums. Every so often I pull it out and look at his smiling face and lean body. I remember the day I became a member of the ultimate Mile High Club, on a foggy observation platform in the middle of a tropical rainforest, at the top of the world.