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Ghost in the Woods: Return of the Pale Rider

Last Tuesday the sky was full of promise and the air carried the fragrant tinge of spring. I couldn’t help myself, I just had to head to the Prairie and see what state it was in. Parking in my usual place, I change from my work clothes into my hiking duds and hit the trail. Walking down that now-familiar black-topped lane, I take note of the various changes that have taken place over the winter. Minor things, really. The bog to the left of the path looks as though someone or something has mowed down a good deal of the dried reeds that normally populate its surface. A few more trees are gone and the wooded area near the railroad tracks at the entrance of the trail appears oddly thinned. I laugh when I see that the Park and Rec folks had placed a metal gate over the entrance to one of the more popular mountain biking trails. A metal gate? Really? Like that is going to stop them? Silly Park and Rec. Always wasting money and time and screwing up the natural order of things.

However, all of this could not prepare me for what has become of my beloved Prairie. As I scale the neglected, abused, rutted gravel road that winds its way towards it, my heart flips. They’ve mowed back all the wonderful weeds that once surrounded the entrance of the trail leading to the main part. Last year, I used to look for rabbits as I approached, frequently catching them off guard. I took each sighting o as a sign of good luck. The area now looks so bare and manicured. Reaching the top of trail, I see that the same is true of most of the landscape.

My favorite spots have been mowed out of existence. I’m sure it will grow back, but it’s disheartening, none the less. The previous year they mowed it at the beginning of the season. This year the area as a whole appears flatter and more tamed. I take note of the tire ruts that course through the center of the main field. Last summer the cops took to driving through the center in order to scare up guys lying naked in the grass. Rather stupid. Someone could have been hurt. I then notice that the tracks run right through one of my favorite enclaves. That someone could very easily have been me.

I walk around, amazed by all the debris that is now exposed due to the mowing. The toe of my shoe works its way through the occasional pile of condom wrappers and empty lube containers. I cannot believe all the discarded plastic water bottles. Some people have no class. Littering is just not cool. Ever.

Of course I wouldn’t be noticing any of this if the Prairie had just been left alone. Hopefully, all the foliage will grow back. Though, upon closer inspection, I see some things are gone forever.

Two trees. Gone. One stood in the far corner of the Prairie. Here, guys would hang out in the hopes of hooking up. It not only offered a bit of visual coverage, but also served as a convenient meeting place. Now it’s all open and bare looking. Perhaps once things leaf out a bit more better cover will be provided, but for now it looks sad and hollow. I stand on the stump of the tree and imagine all the joy its shelter must have given those cruising the area. It served a good purpose. I know the tree was riddled with disease and had failed to leaf out last year, so, while I understand why it had to be cut down, I still mourn its passing.

Making my way through one of the minor paths, I come face-to-face with a family of deer. There are three of them: one large, one medium and one small. Frozen in place, standing not more than a few yards away from me, they gaze back at me. Apparently they were not expecting any visitors this early in the season. I am awed by their beauty – their tails appear enormous. Speaking to them softly and briefly, I apologize for barging in on them. Then, retracing my steps, I return to the main path. Surprisingly, they don’t spring off in fear, but continue to watch me as I move away from them.

I decide to check out one of my favorite troll sites. It’s a little nook in the woods near the edge of the Prairie where guys looking to suck cock routinely hang out. I have played with dudes here on a few occasions (no trolls), though I primarily use it as a place to take a leak. The brush that shields the cocksuckers also serves to hide a guy relieving himself. I decide to take a piss. Ahh, I love the outdoors. Zipping up, I’m startled by an approaching cyclist.

I recognize him almost immediately. Last year there was this dude I noted in my diary; late twenties, pale skin, about 5’10”, blue eyes, nice, pouty lips and a lovely bald/shaved head. He always rides a bike, a rather expensive looking one and always wears a helmet. He seems to like the athletic wear that goes with owning such a bike and today is no exception. He is decked out in some kind of blue lycra body suit to keep him warm. He looks as exotic, futuristic and cute as ever.

I had opportunity to play with him twice last year, and both times the same thing happened. He’s very skittish. His approach was quite bold both times, so there was no question that he wanted to play. Luring me off to some far corner of the woods, he’d whip out his dick. I’d start sucking it and licking his balls. He seemed to be liking it, when suddenly he would get all spooked over something, pack up his business and ride off without cumming. The first time it happened I thought he must have seen someone and was afraid of getting caught. But the second time I, being hyper-aware of my surroundings, knew that there was no one about, so it kind of pissed me off.

The other thing about this dude is… he never says a word. He just appears out of nowhere on that bike of his, like a ghost. He’s about as pale as one, too.

So the whole thing begins to play out just like it did last summer; his approach is non-verbal, but obvious. I tell him there is no one around, except for the three deer I just saw. This seems to calm him and he rolls his bike off the path to lean it against a tree. He removes his helmet and moves toward me. Wasting no time, he pulls his dick out. It’s not hard, but I’m pretty sure I know how to change that. I move into him, cupping his balls with my left hand. His left hand moves to the cheeks of my ass and I’m thinking this could get way fun. For about two minutes we grope on each other. Then I decide to unzip and let my jeans fall to my ankles. He makes a grab for my dick and I am instantly hard. All this time, he is looking over his shoulder out of fear of being caught. I decide not to waste my breath. This is his M.O. This is the way he is. Maybe he gets off on it; the possibility being the bigger part of the thrill.

Deciding to go for broke, I crouch down and take his semi-hard dick into my mouth. It’s a nice dick, very average, maybe 7”. Very hairless, too, as it the rest of him. He reaches over my back and places a pale finger on my hole. As I’m slurping on his knob, my hands wander over his upper torso. Still in good shape, he’s definitely put on a couple of pounds since last summer. But then it is the beginning of the season and I am sure he’ll work it off biking around.

After a few minutes of lip service, he pulls his dick out of my mouth. I move to lick his balls, taking them both into my mouth and giving them a slight downward tug, just to see if it gets a reaction. It does, but not the one I had hoped for. Without saying anything or pushing me away I immediately sense that the dude is about to bolt. I rise from my crouched position, not sure what’s up. He pulls away from me for a second and then returns just as quickly, pulling me to him as he reaches around me and slides his hand down the crack of my exposed ass. Instinctively, I react by sticking my ass out just slightly, pushing against the pressure of his fingers.

Spinning me around, he wets his index finger and plants it firmly against my pucker, working it in ever so slightly. I would love nothing more than to get fucked, but I’m not really prepared so I don’t push it. Still, he seems intent upon playing with my hole. Instead of working toward penetration, I pull off his finger and give him a little show. He’s jacking his dick the entire time, loving it as I spread my ass cheeks for him. His hand never leaves my hole as he physically presses closer to me. I’m thinking maybe he will hump my ass, but, no… I get a sense that he’s afraid of that kind of physical contact. And that’s when it hits me – the reason he always ran off before – he just wants to jerk off and fuck around a bit – nothing more. He’s one of those guys. You know, the kind that love porn and the notion of fucking more than the actuality. They’re a pain in the ass if you’re agenda does not match theirs.

So for the next few minutes, I play porn star for him, striking hard core poses. Bending over, I push my hard dick down between my legs, making sure he appreciates everything I got. He does. I never get to touch his dick again, but he works my hole with his fingers repeatedly, pulling back every so often to make sure no one is watching. He then moves in closer, grabbing my dick and working it with his hand. Finally his own urges get the best of him and he fires off a load. As he cums, he backs away from me, as if he’s ready to flee. I think about working my own out, but decide that the moment has passed. Gripping his dick, he squeegees all the cum off it and with a sharp shake of his hand, flings it to the ground. Watching it fly through the air a second time is almost as good as seeing it fly the first. Quickly he pulls up his lycra-like pants and reclaims his bike. I’m still standing there with my pants around my ankles, hard dick in hand and my ass bare to the world as my little ghost sails off on his bike.

He murmurs something like, “Thanks, man”, as he makes his escape. “Anytime”, I say as cheerfully as possible. I pull up my pants, tucking my raging hard-on safe in a denim cocoon. I decide to hang around for a bit more. There’s a lot of the Prairie I still have to check out.

As I move toward the beach area, I realize that the season has begun with the finishing some unfinished business. I have little doubt that this spirit will revisit me at least once more this summer, but at least now I know what to do and, more importantly, what not to do. What I’ve learned is that you have to remain ever vigilant in the presence of the ethereal.

Some ghosts spook easily.

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