The group started peeling away for the evening. A few guys hung around but the brewing storm was going to break soon.
I went back to where I had dozed off while sitting with Marty and picked upmy empty iced tea bottle on the ground, ready to head home, hopefully in advance of the storm.
Too late. A rippling crackle of lightning followed by a long, slow, protracted rumble of thunder shook the ground and rolled away, echoing into the woods. The sky had become yellow-purple, an awesome but scary sight. This was going to be a whopper.
Big, heavy drops began to splatter on the grass and leaves and an eerie wind lifted the tree branches and turned the leaves flip-flapping upside down. Another peal of thunder and a sudden nearby crack of lightning meant I had to move now or face instant death or total soaking. I could see the rain coming like a wall along the ridge. This was the real thing.
I bent down and grabbed the glass bottle as a candy wrapper blew past. I grabbed for it, missed, took a step and caught it. Underneath was a wallet, thin, brown, and almost empty. I flipped it open: Marty's! It must have fallen out of his pants when he was wrestling with Bear. I looked toward the woods where I had seen him enter. He was gone and the storm unleashed its wrath on me.
I was instantly soaked to the skin and ran over the hill to my car as wind, rain, hail, thunder and lightning swirled around me. Midwest storms can be absolutely breathtaking, but it's always better to be dry inside watching instead of running headlong into the driving wind.
I snatched open the door and piled inside, slamming the door behind me and gasping for breath. The car was instantly fogged inside and the rain streamed off me and puddled on the seat and around my feet. Despite the warmth I shivered.
Another roll of thunder rumbled past and the rain came down so hard I couldn't see across the road. I started the car and turned on the wipers and the heat to clear the windows. Leaves, branches and debris flew past the windows and the rain came down in sheets.
Awesome. I peeled off my soaked polo shirt and leaned back into the seat, using my hand as a squeegee to dry my chest and stomach. My hand continued down to my crotch; I was as hard as a rock. I gave my cock a sustained squeeze and then popped open my pant tops and slid down the zipper. I was going commando style that day, so I slid my hand around my cock and gave a few tugs, pulling my balls free and sliding my pants down enough to allow my ass to enjoy the warm leather seat.
A good storm always made me hard, even when I was a little kid. Must be something about the unbridled power and sensuality of feeling rain and wind on bare skin.
I glanced into the passenger seat and realized I had tossed Marty's wallet there. I flipped it open and made a quick inventory of the contents: license, a few tattered business cards, a few singles, and a scrap of paper with an unknown name and phone number. I knew Marty was frugal, but this was a wasteland of information.
The wind died down and the rain slowed to a steady sprinkle. That's the thing about these powerful storms: they brew all day, unleash their fury in ten or fifteen minutes, then settle into a gentle, soaking rain that does some good. I could see Marty's car ahead of mine in the now-empty roadside parking area. Not another car, person, dog, squirrel or other sign of life anywhere in sight.
What to do with Marty's wallet? Eventually he'd miss it then become frantic trying to find it. I zipped up, got out of my car and trotted over to Marty's battered old silver Toyota. It was locked! Marty never locked his car. I tried all the doors: locked. I couldn't take a chance of leaving on the hood or on top of a tire. He'd never see it or, worse, someone else might.
The rain felt splendid on my skin. It was still hot as hell and the rain was like standing in a shower. I thrust my head back, closed my eyes and opened my mouth, letting the pure rainwater splatter on my face and quench my thirst. The steady drops ran down my chest, followed my treasure trail into my pants and trickled through my crotch and down my legs. Damn it was sexy. I was getting hard again.
Looking around, making sure nobody was nearby; I slid my pants down around my hips, exposing my pubes and the top of my cock. My ass scrunched against Marty's car and I slid it along the slippery metal, getting harder and hornier. This simply couldn't wait until I got home. I hiked up my pants and headed back over the hill, thinking I might just slip into the woods for a quick wank. I love spraying my hot seed all over the ground outside. There's something so decadent but freeing about it.
As I walked past the spot where the group had been only a half hour before, I realized I still had Marty's wallet in hand. But where was Marty? I knew he had gone into the woods but he apparently hadn't come out.
I know I shouldn't have, but my curiosity got the better of me. I decided to find him, Jason or no Jason, in the woods.
I slid down the rest of the hill and hopped across the road that had become a small river after the downpour. Mud, small rocks and pebbles showed the strength of the torrent and I could hear water crashing onto the rocks below from the storm sewers. These gully washers could move mountains in a few minutes, so I wasn't surprised at the amount of muck swilling about.
I squelched my way through the meadow and headed for the tree line where the path entered the woods. The rain had washed away any trace of footsteps but, based on his description, I figured Marty -- and if it was Jason -- had retraced their steps and gone back over the ledge into the secret woods below.
Sure enough, I saw two sets of boot prints smashed into the muddy track heading down into the gully. The rocks and roots that formed the stairway were slick and treacherous and I damn near killed myself getting to the lower level. I was now beyond drenched and my pants were so heavy with rainwater that it was hard to walk. What the hell, I thought, and I slid them off, squeezed them out and carried them in one hand as I ducked under the branches and followed the trail buck naked.
I came to the honeysuckle circle and saw more fresh but fading boot prints that headed further into the woods. This was so hot! My boner grew back to full length as I slipped along the muddy path, searching for Marty. I walked a long way, at one point crossing a raging, narrow stream that no doubt an hour ago had been bone dry. Deep prints in the mud on the other side --- footprints now, no longer boots -- went ahead along the trail; interesting and compelling evidence that Marty had found him.
The branches were vexing, weighted down with water, making it hard to see very far along the path. Steam was rising from the woods and undergrowth as the storm moved away and the rain slowed to a fine spray.
I stopped to wipe my face and gave my cock a couple of tugs to keep myself hard. I took a deep breath and took a step when I heard a deep sigh-moan that could only mean one thing: somebody was having some hot fun in the wet woods.
Marty had found Jason.
I took another step and rounded a small bend. There they were. One was bent over obviously deep dicking the other, but I couldn't tell who was who because the leaves obscured my view. My cock was leaking precum like a faucet.
I heard Marty say a hushed "Oh, yeah," and I took another step. The tiny snap under my left foot sounded like a gunshot and I stopped dead in my tracks. But they had heard it and an unknown voice called out, "Who's there?"
Then I saw Marty glance back down the trail. He couldn't have seen my face but I know he saw my pulsing cock. His grin flashed and he cupped his hand and flicked his fingers backward twice.
It was an invitation I couldn't refuse.
To be continued
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