about

His Man

by Rasmus Myrup

Perched on a hilltop, he was visually combing the enormous landscape. His eyes meandered across it gently, with love. From the sea to the hills to the steppes traversed by the river. This was what he loved. What he had inside of him. And also where he killed. He was a hunter, but not a savage. As he glanced at the stretching lands beneath him, you could almost see a speck of parental care in his eyes. Like he was just checking in on his grown kin, to see how everything was going, offering his help if needed and his devotion even when unnecessary. There was often reason to interfere here – these lands were full of as much danger as they were beauty – sometimes both contained in single entities. The rage of an amorous aurochs, the deep crevice of a rising cliff, the thorns on a rose…

His poised body leaned forward on one foot and above his ankles shapely trunks swung, firm and tense, yet soft on the outside. Like a supple birch tree in spring. In the canopy of his legs two ripe, bulbous buttocks sprouted in the back, and in the front his large branch and juicy fruits were barely covered by the furry garment hugging his lower body. He was a magnificent man, as elegant as a stag, quick as a sabre tooth cat and hung like a mammoth.

His eyes were soaring over the landscape, when he suddenly heard a loud noise behind him. Indistinguishable at first, he readied himself for the worst. Maybe this was the thorn on the rose that was his day. In one fluid motion, he turned towards the sound. His feet inaudibly shifted on the rock. As he lifted his stone tipped spear with his right hand, his body lowered itself towards the ground, and his left arm reached out into the air to keep balanced. He was ready to pounce whatever danger was oncoming. The eyes that had lovingly embraced the landscape a mere second ago, were now small slits, tearing across the thick foliage. He saw no movement… Heard no noise… There – a rustling in the leaves behind the bushes. A large animal was moving towards him. He silently shifted his fingers around the thick carved grip of his spear as he raised it – eyes locked on the shifting shapes. He tightened his grip around the hard wood as the bushes gave a slight, uncanny jiggle. The animal was now within killing distance. His spear could soar through the air, pierce through the leaves, the skin and tear at the flesh of his adversary. But the animal could also jump him and with one blow of a claw, horn or tooth render him senseless. Neither of them moved… Then the leaves started to part one by one. As each leaf moved out of the way he lowered his spear and loosened his grip, until he suddenly leapt toward the bushes and pounced the animal!

It was a large animal, but not the clawed, horned, sharp toothed predator he had been prepared to fight. The two battling animals dropped to the ground in front of the bush, entangled in a physical lock, and rolled around in the dirt. After a while he sat up on top of the beast and pinned its muscular arms to the ground. They exchanged glances, and he then gently slapped the face that was staring back at him – the punishment for this attack cushioned by the thick beard covering the beautiful smiling face of his man.

As the same beard rubbed against his face later, tickling and turning him on, he could feel a firm wetness between his butt cheeks. A finger was swirling around his hole, making his breath tremble. It paused at once after a quick inhale as the finger, coated in their spit, slowly slipped inside him. First joint, out, second joint, out, all… the way… inside… His breath synced up with the movement of the finger, slow but determined, as his moans echoed in the mouth of his man, whose tongue was almost as far inside his mouth as his finger was in his ass. As they lay there, merging, mixing on the reindeer skin, he envisioned them as two muscles, wrapped in the same skin. Connected by his finger, by their tongues, they were no different from the bloody, lean lumps of meat they had carved from the very reindeer they were now fucking on top of. Two muscles merged in a membrane, exchanging liquids, pulling back and forth, back and forth… As he felt two more fingers slip inside him, he bellowed with bliss and could no longer distinguish where he began and he ended and he began and he ended… They were two parts of one whole.

Earlier, after the adorable attack, a rain shower had made the decision for them. Their evening would be spent in the dry spot beneath the steep eroding hill. Drenched in the drops, they laughed as they navigated the foliage in the old forest, while they unfurled the reindeer skin, and found some logs to keep them warm through the night. As his man lit the fire, he fashioned a makeshift drying rack for their soaked undergarments by penetrating the ground with a few sticks and constructing the contraption. He was rather pleased they had been soaked in the sudden rain, since having to dry their furry undergarments meant that they had to get naked immediately. He smiled to himself as he thought of this and in that very same second, a wet bundle of pelt hit the back of his neck. He reached back and grabbed it, while turned around, his feet inaudibly shifting on the ground. As he turned, he saw his man, naked, beautiful and wet, sprawled on the reindeer skin with the roaring fire behind him. A cheeky, teasing smile revealed the playful mood of his man, but his own face took on a more solemn expression. He was exploding with emotions, yet completely still. A slow upwards motion begun in the corners of his eyes and mouth. As if tiny invisible fish hooks had caught these four points and four tiny men were now tugging on each of the strings to get what they wanted. His eyes wetted while they twinkled with the flames of the fire, framed by the fine furrows of happiness, as a single tear formed in the corner of his right eye. It trickled and journeyed across his protruding cheek bone, tracing the fold from his nose to his jaw, to finally let go of his face and drip to the ground just like a raindrop. He was so overcome with love for this man.

He could feel his man’s dick glide across his hole, as he slit back and forth to greet it in its movements. In the process he was making the brittle hairs of the reindeer skin completely wet with precum. The hard and rounded tip of his man pressed more and more against his entry point, almost slipping in but then popping back out again, sliding across the wet, dented surface between his bulbous buttocks. Suddenly, it had found its way… He felt himself filling up with his man. They both moaned into each others mouths as they kissed, whenever he slid in, whenever he slid out. He arched his back further, pulled his cheeks apart and leaned back to have more of him inside himself. He wanted all of him, inside himself, forever.

After the tear of love had traveled down his cheek earlier, his man had gotten up, walked over to him, taken his hand and brought him back to the reindeer skin. His man made him close his eyes and after having felt something touch his hair and tighten around his head, he got permission to open them again. He and his man were wearing matching crowns, made of branches and the most beautiful objects from around their landscape. He looked at the smiling man sitting across from him, and reached out with a finger, touching the beautiful crown his man had made for them. Once he had covered every twinkle, every texture of the crown with his tracking finger, he continued downwards, across the beautiful locks of hair, passing the scar on his forehead from when he had run into a tree. Funny how even such a gracious hunter could succumb to simplicities. His finger reached the point where his hair stopped and his thick beard began, and his cheeks sprung outwards. He traced this curve that he so loved, from his man’s ear, sliding across his face, to the corner of his eye, and then suddenly straight up in a most elegant ascension. A thick bone was marking the top of his eyes. His finger continued across the broad brow ridge, ruffling his bushy but beautifully bold, brown brows, underlining the fresh forest colours of the crown just above. As he reached the middle, his finger plummeted a little and fitted itself snugly into the crevice where his man’s brow met his other brow met his nose met his eyes… This, somehow, seemed to be the centre of his face. His finger drew downwards, along the ridge of his man’s nose, curving over its swung, stump tip, down between the ridges of his cupid’s bow and finally reached the lower lip that he pulled down slightly. He leaned forward and gently licked the lips that had been the final destination of his cranial expedition, and slipped his tongue inside their cavernous mouth for a kiss, their crowns entangling in the process.

With him in his hole, he felt whole. His body tingled, trembled and oozed as he was filled with his man. He was a tree with leaves, an ocean with waves, a sky with a sun. Complete. They went on and on, in and out, and as he put his man on his back and started to ride him, he went up and down. Taking him in, letting him out. They were both grasping at each other, holding on wherever they could… A hand on a hip, a palm on a buttock, fingers pinching a nipple… As he thrust himself upwards, he reached back and grabbed his man’s cock as he pulled him all the way out. He closed his eyes and threw his head back as he sat back down on his hard dick, feeling it slowly slither all the way inside him. Where it belonged. There was nothing, except for the feeling of his flesh moving forward, deeper inside him. He pulled up and started to ride him again, and when he felt his man’s big hands grasp around his neck and pull him down towards him, he opened his eyes and looked into the beautiful pair staring back at him. He could see on the deep look of pained pleasure that his man was as close to coming as he was himself. They were the sun at summer’s dawn, an apple about to fall in fall, an avalanche just before a rush down the mountainside in winter and the flower of the verge of springing open its succulent, splendid petals in spring.

His man let go of his neck and gripped around his rock hard spear with his right hand while his left hand slammed on to his butt for balance. His man’s motions left him panting so violently that he thought he was going to pass out, and then – with the thrust of dick in his ass and the jerk of the hand on his cock he was rendered senseless by this feral beauty. In a moment of absolute bliss he sent rope after rope of dripping wet sperm all over his man’s furry torso. He kept spewing sap on his man as he heard him howling like an alpha wolf and felt himself filling up with wads of his raindrops.

As they lay there on the skin, exhausted in the best way possible, each covered in each others fluids, he couldn’t let go of the feeling he had had earlier… He wanted all of him, inside himself, forever. He looked up at the last colours of the day playing in the sky, lighting it on fire, and rolled over on his side to look at his man. He started to slide his finger across his upper body, as he had done his face earlier. He traced across his protruding collarbone, standing tall like a frozen wave on the sea. Then the thick patches of curly body hair, across his pecks that swung like curving hills overlooking the soaked steppes of his hairy abs, which were sidelit in the low light of the sunset. His stomach was as covered in cum as the landscape had been by the rain earlier, and his tracing finger connected the disjointed puddles to form a meandering river across his steppes, with a large lake forming in his bellybutton. As the river reached its delta between the hips, his finger reached the most enigmatic landscape feature… This engorged wonder, that could rise and fall like the tides and go from sweet sapling to handsome hardwood in a matter of seconds. Its tip, packed in a light leathery casing, had a slit which could award an admirer with delicious juices, much like a slash in the trunk of a maple tree in fall. It was still enlarged and still sensitive, he gathered, from the small sensuous spasms his mans body gave when he traced around the outline of this wonderful appendage. Around and around he went, from root, to tip, to root, around the satchel holding his two soft stones, to root, to tip… He got up and grabbed his own satchel and took out one of his sharp stone tools. His man was still lying on the skin with his eyes closed as he crawled over to the trunk of the tree behind them. With his knees in the dirt he started to trace the shape of his mans dick in the wooden surface. He went around and around, and after a while the furrow was perfectly describing the trajectory his finger had just followed. His man had gotten up and was now sitting behind him, hugging his torso while he etched the wood with the image of his wood. He obviously understood the loving gesture and when he had finished, his man gave him a kiss on the neck and lovingly grabbed the tool from his hand. His man now started to trace the outline of his dick. They sat there, kneeling in a hug, while he traced a perfect rendition of his dick, next to his, overlapping with each other. He was touched that his man intimately knew the shape and proportions, touched that now, as long as this tree stood, their hard dicks would be together. Touched that they overlapped, since this meant that now, at least on this tree, he had gotten what he wanted. He would have all of him, inside himself, forever.