Isolation

There are just few ways to really stay warm on a night like this. One is a hot bath. Second is the company of another person, like dogs huddling. I perched nervously on the tub’s edge as he sat up and wrapped his dripping arms around my waist, opening my belt and unbuttoning my jeans. I felt his pectorals pressing on my back, soaking me with the steamy bathwater running off his furry chest. I reached down to remove my shoes and socks, and slipped my pants off my legs. Lars pulled the heavy fair-isle sweater off my shoulders. I stepped into the big oversized tub and lay naked in his arms in the hot soapy water. Lars put his glass to my lips and poured some vodka on my mouth. His beard rubbed softly against my cheek, his moist lips pressing on mine as he licked the alcohol from my face. I parted my lips and he filled my mouth with his tongue.

He soon turned me on my back, pushing me further under the soothing hot water as he hovered above me. The water dripped from his fuzzy chin, falling onto my head as the soap bubbles danced between us. Lars lowered himself onto me; his torso separating my legs as his cock jabbed at my ass cheeks, looking for his way in. I clung to his broad shoulders and tried to keep my head above water. I struggled to pull myself up as his dick found it’s mark, and began to stretch my puckered asshole. Lars held my head by the nape of the neck and grabbed at my hard cock with his other hand. He continued to press his thick, stiff dick into me. I cried out, I gasped and bared down, and soon had him entirely inside of me. He lay quietly on top of me until I got accustomed to the enormous shaft stuck up my ass. Soon there was no more pain, just the glorious feeling of fullness. He began to rock his pelvis steadily and rhythmically against my crotch. I sputtered and choked as his motion sent the water in waves across my face. He pulled my head out of the suds and kissed me again.

The water was cooling rapidly. I felt the chilled air on my face and shoulders. Lars suddenly pulled himself out of my ass and stood up. Grabbing a couple towels, he began drying himself off. I stood up and he tossed me a towel. Damn, was it over? Had I done something wrong? Lars grinned at me and yanked me out of the tub. He grabbed me by the arms from behind, and forced me against the sink. My cock was lying on the rim, my balls pressed into the cold white porcelain. He grabbed my ass cheeks with his big meaty hands and split them apart as his cock stabbed at my butt hole. I braced myself as his body leaned into mine, his chest pushing on my shoulders until my face was pressed against the mirror. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he quickly re-entered me. Lars cock went in to the hilt, his damp pubic hairs slamming against my ass, his balls hitting mine between my legs. I came almost immediately, a thick wad of cum dripping down the bowl and pooling in the bottom of the sink.

Lars was lifting me off my feet with every thrust of his mighty pelvis. I could feel his rod jabbing at my prostate, sending shivers through my gut, his immense arms crushing me in an embrace. He shuddered and groaned as his fiery load of cum surged into my rectum.

The next morning, he acted as if it had never happened. We had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but had woken up as strangers. After a silent breakfast, we loaded ourselves back in the car and headed north. We were cutting across the island, following the main road along the Heradhsvotn river to the north coast and the town of Hvammstangi. We passed farms and ranches, but mostly open fields of faded green grass. Occasional wooden cottages covered in roofs of living turf seemed to be carved from the rich, cold, black soil of Iceland. Beyond this town we would have to hire ponies. There were no reliable roads through Blonduos or on the Skagastrond peninsula.

Lars was moody and petulant. I decided that it would be best to simply ignore him. He seemed to have issues with what we did last night. I had a great time, so fuck him. We checked into the Inn and got separate rooms. Fine with me. I don’t need the drama. I decided to make it an early night, and told Lars to have dinner on his own. I went to my cold, lonely, uncomfortable bed and masturbated myself to sleep.

The next morning there was no answer at Lars door. I went down to the common room, and was informed that my companion had checked out. The car was gone as well. The big fucking asshole had left me here, stranded. I didn’t give a damn about his confused sexuality and need for denial. We had a job to do and he fucking crapped out on me. What a bastard! I couldn’t go back to my editor with no pictures, and I couldn’t really explain what happened to my guide, anyway. I decided to press on and get my shots. On the outskirts of town, where in America you would find miniature golf or a bowling alley, was a riding stable. The main form of recreation around here is riding, and the ponies are the cultural center of their lives. I am an accomplished rider myself, I can ride English and western, so how different could it be? I packed her saddlebags with the bare necessities and mounted my mare. I thought of Lars (the big dick with the big dick) as I headed off on the hard-packed trail winding out of town and into the lichen and moss covered plains of the Icelandic wilderness.

Somewhere around one I stopped for lunch. A pouch of dried beef jerky, a pop tart and a juice box. Hardly an authentic Icelandic meal, but it would do until I got to the Varmahlid Ranch near the coast. They were expecting me there around seven tonight, if the trail held no surprises and the mare had the stamina. Oddly, cell phones are very popular in Iceland. The lack of landlines to the remote areas of the frontier makes wireless communication a necessity. I called the ranch and informed them that I was about half way there. I re-mounted the pony and began the last leg of my northward journey. The sun was setting, although this time of year it would not entirely set but hover on the horizon, a cold yellow ball of light sending long shadows across the ground. The shallow creek I was following seemed to boil over the river rocks as it coursed around a rocky outcrop of stone. 

Then without warning I was thrown from my screaming mare. She slid across the frozen patch of mud, her legs buckling under her. We tumbled together into the icy-cold water. She thrashed and whinnied, the fear and astonishment showing in her big black eyes. I cried out for help, but immediately realized there was no one to listen to me. The nearest human was probably twenty miles from here. Her right front leg was clearly broken, a compound fracture revealing bone and tendon to the cold evening air. I ran for the saddlebag. The gun was wet, but I prayed it would fire. Her pleas were gut wrenching. I couldn’t stand to hear her suffer. I lifted the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger...