Fiction: What She Saw in the Woods

{On a side note, this is my 100th post!}

The weather was starting to turn colder, the leaves began their change to color. This morning I decided to go for a stroll through the woods at a nearby state park with trails. I tend to be a bit of a hermit, so I decided to go early in the morning. With my headphones on and music going, I started off on an easy trail. About 5 minutes in and I had yet to see another soul, which was just perfect. I had my digital camera tucked in my pocket in the hopes I would catch a few wild animals at this hour if I walked quietly enough.

But what I saw out of the corner of my eye was not an animal; it was wild though. I stopped the moment I caught movement and looked for the source. As I stopped the Ipod and removed my headphones I saw the obvious flash of skin in the foliage. About 15 feet back into the woods from the trail was a young guy. He was leaning his back against a tree, facing mostly away from the trail. His pants and boxers pulled down to his knees, he was lost in his own little world, masturbating at a slow and deliberate pace. I stood there frozen, my heart racing, not knowing what to do. Stay? Leave? Avoid looking his direction but make some noise?

As I stood there a minute longer, he still had no idea I was there. The shock and shy fear slowly left me and the devious side came out. I remembered the camera in my pocket. There is such a plus to digital cameras -well, many pluses – but I always have all sounds turned off on mine, in case I need to catch a cat mid-dream. Or as luck would have it, a man, mid-jerk. Slowly, stealthily I pulled out the camera and turned it on. Staring at him through the LCD screen, zoomed in a bit. I kept his face in the frame, to make sure he still didn’t see me. At first I snapped a few photos but then I hit the record button. Hey…if he was going to take the risk, he should accept the consequence. My heart rate had slowed considerably from the hummingbird speed it was at a few minutes ago, but the adrenaline rush was quickly turning to lust. My lips parted and jaw slackened, I stared in awe.

Very soon in, his hand began moving faster. One hand stroking his cock, the other I think was wrapped around the base, or perhaps cupping his balls. At that moment I welcomed the chill in the morning air as I felt my cheeks and cleavage flush from arousal.  His hips arced away from the tree and I heard a small moan escape his lips. I crept forward on the trail a few feet closer, eyes on the camera, camera on him. You could have taken my pulse with a palm cupped to my cunt, and I was well aware of the dull ache and wetness building. His hand began pumping his cock in a blur and the small moan became a deep, primal male groan.

The moment he began to come I deliberately stepped off the trail into dry leaves and sticks; his eyes flew open and he looked over at me at once shocked and thrilled as he took in both me and the camera, his cock still pulsing out the remains of his orgasm. I would later relish that moment – the combination on his face of the thrill of being caught, the ecstasy of orgasm and the shock of seeing me with the camera – when I replayed it over and over again on my computer.

I shut off the camera and pocketed it, and walked toward him. He was standing there frozen, breathing heavily, hand still on his cock. I wrapped a hand around his cock, covering the sticky head, languidly stroking just a bit. As I looked up at him, right into his deep brown eyes, I cocked an eyebrow and said:

“I wonder what view the next hiker will be getting?”