An Island Affair
An Island Affair
by
Loup-Solitaire
My pack straps creaked at each step and then slid back again to drop the full weight of 55 pounds of gear and supplies onto my chafed and aching shoulders. The stillness of the late afternoon air was punctuated only by an occasional insect whine as I doggedly set one boot ahead of the other again and again, descending to Daisy Farm Campground on the southern shore of Isle Royale.
Since morning I had covered eight miles over the Greenstone to Mount Ojibway. Now all I could think of was the cold water and sandy beach down below and how it would feel to pull off my boots and dip my burning paws into Lake Superior.
Despite ninety-degree temperatures in the island interior, mosquitoes at night, and black flies in the sunlight, an inner quiet and contentment had settled on my spirit as soon as I stepped off the ferry from Grand Portage. California and Colorado may think they have a monopoly on natural beauty, but we have our share hidden away in the midwest too, and I try to get a little spiritual healing from it as often as I can.
Nonetheless, at the end of a sun-drenched day's hike the mind often becomes fogged and enters a sort of autonomic behavior. I was unaware of my surroundings, or nearly so, concentrating only on the intended goal only a few hundred feet away, when a hailing bark from up ahead returned me to consciousness.
"Hi, there," he said. "Headed for Daisy Farm?"
"Yeah," I answered. It was a fox ranger, his tie removed and uniform shirt half-opened in the steamy heat of the afternoon. His brush tail was wagging slowly, so I figured he wasn't going to give me a hard time. I perked my own ears and wagged back while noting that his name badge read "V. Andrews."
"Things are pretty tight," he told me. "A whole flock of sheep arrived from Three Mile about an hour ago, and we had two boats in from Raspberry Island already. Where you coming from?" He looked friendly in spite of the bad news. The National Park prohibits camping outside designated areas, and limits occupancy in each campsite. If Daisy Farm were full, I'd have to go at least three miles farther to another site.
"From McCargo this morning," I answered. "I started from Windigo four days ago." I worked on my most winning smile and kept wagging my tail, just in case.
"OK," the fox said, returning the smile. "I'd say you've been far enough for today, even for a big bad wolf like yourself. Officially we're full up and I'm sending late arrivals on to Moskey or Three Mile, but I think we can squeeze you in if you don't mind sharing a shelter. There are still a couple of singles here." He pulled a worn campsite diagram from his shirt pocket, giving me a better view of his snowy white chest fluff as he did so.
"Right down here, last shelter before the trail to Three Mile." The ranger pointed to the map with a neatly trimmed claw. "The guy in the site is named Jeff, he's a grad student studying limnology. Tell him I sent you down to share the space and he'll take you in."
"Hey, thanks for the help. My feet are already on strike." I offered my paw and he took it briefly in his own. Not a bone-cruncher, but firm, and I thought he held my gaze just a beat too long.
"Part of the job," foxy Andrews said. "One of us will be by later in the evening to make sure you're settled in."
"Great. See you later then and really, I appreciate it." He nodded and turned on up the trail. I couldn't help licking my chops as I watched his retreating backside. The big tail only emphasized the motion nicely.
It was easy to find the shelter to which he had directed me. The raw wood boxes nestled into the pines on a hillside facing the lake, the end one turned just a bit away from the others as if it had quarreled with the pack and they were no longer on speaking terms.
Fresh air from the lake chilled my burning nose and I let my tongue loll as I lowered my pack by the table in front of the shelter. A young otter with sun bleached red streaks in his fur was lying in the shade, eyes closed and paws behind his head. I could hear him snoring gently beneath the whisper of the rising breeze as it passed through the pines and riffled the pages of the book lying at his side.
The bench creaked when I sat down to remove my boots, and he raised up on one elbow, opening his eyes. They were blue, my favorite color. He grinned slowly, the smile spreading over his muzzle the way water oozes into your pawprints in the acid bogs on the island.
"Vic sent you," he told me. It wasn't a question.
"If you mean that ranger, Andrews, yes he did. Mind sharing some space for tonight? I'm going on to Rock Harbor tomorrow."
"Sure, no problem if you can stand my snoring." He laughed softly. "Camp must be full up again. My name's Jeff. Where'd you come from today?" It's the question hikers invariably ask when they meet on the trail or in campgrounds.
"McCargo," I said. "North shore. I'm Tom." We clasped paws for a moment and leaned toward each other to share scents.
"No wonder there's smoke coming from your boots," he said, pointing to them. In the cool lake breeze, there actually was a little steam rising out of my discarded footwear. We both laughed this time as I spread my toes and rubbed my paws in the grass with great satisfaction.
"Must be about five o'clock," he said. "I'm going to rinse off before supper." He stood and pulled his tee shirt off over his head, allowing me a nice look at his hard belly and firm chest. Otters are swimmers, so of course they have that sort of build. I felt my sheath tightening a little, and thought "Down, boy, later," to myself.
I knew that Superior would be like ice, but even that sounded good after the heat of the interior. I was interested in the rest of his body, anyway. "Sounds good," I said, trying not to seem too enthusiastic. I dug in my pack for zoris and my frayed towel.
Jeff discarded his shirt on the picnic table and I started toward the beach, tearing my gaze from his velvety fur. I held my towel so that it hung down in front to conceal any evidence of my interest.
"Not that way," he told me. "There's a quieter spot up here." He beckoned to me from the other direction, with his rounded ears perked as he turned away from the campground. Surprised, I followed him without comment.
I was glad of my light sandals as we crunched through pine duff for the next few minutes. The perfume of the forest floor rose like dry incense to our nostrils, and we both inhaled deeply. A woodpecker laughed nearby and I silently appreciated the play of muscles in Jeff's back and legs as he padded along the trail. It was just wide enough for single file, and I didn't mind that at all.
Emerging on the lake shore, we stood on the edge of a narrow spit of sand. Several small islands hunched their spines about a half mile offshore, pines poking from their crests like bristles on the backs of grazing pigs. No sound from the crowded campground reached us here, and the breeze sang in the trees, blending with bird noises and the lapping water.
"That's Caribou, the biggest mass out there," Jeff told me, pointing. "The little one in front of it is Cemetery Island. Rock Harbor light is on the end of that headland over to the right."
"I know. Ever been over there?" I asked.
"No, have you?" He was looking me up and down rather intently, I thought, so I let my tail swish in what I hoped would look like a friendly gesture. I wasn't entirely sure of otter body language, of course, but I guess it was sufficient.
"Yes, once. A friend and I did the south shore by canoe a few years back. Cemetery is real spooky in a fog. The smaller islands are full of bugs, but you can still find an old arrowhead or two if you look hard enough."
"I'd like to get there some time," he said, nodding. I dropped my towel on a rock and pulled my own tee shirt over my head, silently congratulating myself on the hours I'd spent in the gym all winter. At six feet and 190 pounds of wolf I give a pretty good impression to anyone who appreciates those things. He evidently did, as I saw his blue eyes widen slightly and that slow smile begin to develop again. I pulled off my sandals.
"You might want to keep those on," he cautioned with a wink. "The bottom here is coarse gravel and sandstone. But you don't need your shorts." By now he was smiling broadly, and he turned his back to me and pushed the elastic waistband of his own hiking shorts down over a hard little ass covered with sleek fuzz. He stepped out of the shorts, leaving his tennis shoes on, and walked toward the water without looking back. The view was striking, especially with the bright white patch that ran from just beneath his tail down to between his thighs. I swallowed at the glimpse of his round little jewels hanging there.
Throwing caution to the wind, I followed his example, hoping the cold water would reduce my half-emerging cock before he noticed. Though I was pretty sure I didn't need to worry, I didn't want to be too obvious yet. Jeff waded in up to his knees, then gave a shout like a martial arts expert as he ducked under the blue of the lake water.
I stepped in and had second thoughts as I was quickly reminded that Lake Superior brims with the runoff of glaciers and snow-fields far to the north. I forced myself onward and my erection subsided rapidly.
Not, however, rapidly enough. My companion emerged from the water in front of me, shaking water from his ears and laughing.
"Got a problem there?" he asked.
"Maybe," I said. To hell with being coy, I thought, he isn't going to beat me up. I outweighed him by at least 35 pounds. "Got a cure?" I asked, grinning myself.
"Maybe," he said, echoing my previous tone. His muscular tail caught me behind the knees and dumped me into the frigid water. After the first shock, it wasn't so bad. I emerged laughing, trying to brush the dripping water out of my eyes. Serves you right, I told myself, as he swam in a lazy circle around me, spouting playfully like a dolphin.
The bottom had dropped off abruptly, and we were in water up to our armpits. He paused and looked me in the eye.
"You'll have to catch me first, though," he said. And with that, he ducked under and swam strongly away from me, parallel to the shore. I started after him, but my swimming pace is a slow and steady canine paddle. I'll can see where he got that physique, I thought, as he rapidly pulled away.
Then he switched to a perfect butterfly stroke and I overtook him. Grabbing his hindpaw, I dragged him under the waves. Instead of struggling, Jeff turned and wrapped his arms around my neck. When we broke the surface he kissed me on the cheek.
"My hero," he drawled in a falsetto tone, fluttering his eyelids at me. Then, just as quickly as before, his tail was behind my left knee and down we both went into the water again. This time I wasn't prepared, and emerged spluttering.
He stopped clowning immediately and thumped me on the back.
"OK?" he asked.
"Yeah, I think so," I said between gasps. "I surrender, though. You're too fast for me."
"Fast?" he laughed. "You're the one who came walking out here with that big hard-on."
Back ashore, we unabashedly sized up each other's bodies as we toweled ourselves. Jeff shook water from his slicked down coat and the droplets scattered like sparks in the late afternoon sunlight. I guess he read the regret in my eyes when he pulled his shorts back on, because he smiled broadly and winked.
"Until later," he growled. "Right now I'm starving."
Somehow I managed to cram myself back into my hiking shorts and I followed him back to the shelter. I don't remember much about the supper, but we shared items and created a fairly luxurious menu. Once the roar of the campstoves was silenced and we were washing up, the same fox I'd met earlier ambled down the trail from the adjacent campsites.
"Hi, Vic," Jeff greeted him. "You just missed a gourmet spread."
Andrews smiled, and made a tick mark on the clipboard he was carrying. "I see you two are getting along just fine," he said. "Better make sure you batten everything down tight before you turn in. There's a severe storm front due to pass through before morning."
"Looks like a new roof to me," I said, eyeing the shelter. "We should be dry and cozy."
"Yep, as long as you huddle away from the screened side." With that, he turned back toward the center of the campground.
"Sleep tight," he called back over his shoulder. Once again I had the feeling that he was taking more than a casual interest in the two of us.
We collected loose items and carried them into the screened shelter. The wind did seem to be increasing as I surveyed the area in front for anything I might have missed. Jeff turned to me with a wry grin.
"Last chance to back out and ask Jack for another place to sleep," he said. He hadn't put his shirt back on and I had been resisting an urge to lay my paws on him all through the supper proceedings.
"Who said anything about sleeping?" I asked him. "Anyway, the thunder should cover up any snoring you decide to do."
"Or any other noises we happen to make?" he teased. He pulled a sweater out of his pack and put it on. "Let's walk down to the beach before the rain hits."
I let him lead the way, and this time we went through the campground toward the boat docks and ranger station. The sun was making a sullen disappearance behind a line of clouds and most of the other visitors were busy settling under the roofs of their shelters.
The wind cracked the ranger station's flag like a whip as we sat on the end of the dock to watch the sun setting and the stars appearing in the still clear sky. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my tail over my feet at the sudden chill in the air. Vic emerged to lower the flag and fold it, and at first I thought he hadn't noticed us. Then, as he stood by the door, he looked our way and sketched a brief salute before disappearing inside.
"No mosquitoes tonight," Jeff said. "Look, there's Jupiter." He pointed to the southeast where a bright pinprick pierced the darkening sky. He swung his paws like a little pup as he sat and looked at the heavens. I wanted to put my arm around him, but there were too many occupied shelters facing our direction, so I just watched the wind ruffling his headfur, revealing an ear once in a while.
By now, half the sky was covered with clouds and the temperature had dropped considerably. My own fur was fluffing up as if in preparation for a blizzard, but we lingered as the brightening stars first appeared and then were swallowed by the advancing storm front. Lightning flashed in the west, and I remained still, counting. The crash followed soon enough.
"About ten miles," I said. "It's going to be getting wet here in a few minutes."
He nodded, but still didn't move. I didn't want to break the spell, so I waited. When the first drops spattered against the wooden dock, we both jumped up and headed back for the shelter, but it was too late. The last light vanished from the sky and the rain began in earnest, accompanied by gusts of wind strong enough to knock you over. Frequent lightning bolts helped us find our way.
"Eeeyah!" Jeff screamed, and sprinted the last hundred yards. I put on a burst of speed myself, feeling much more at ease loping over the ground than I had in the water. The screen door slammed behind us and we stood dripping on the bare boards of the shelter floor.
"Take off those wet things," he told me, setting an example as he peeled his sweater over his head and wrung the water from it. Soon that white fur on his bare behind flashed at me from the dusk as he spread our sleeping bags one over the other at the back of the shelter. My pulse made itself known to my own ears as I joined him, naked and quivering, whether from the cold drenching or from anticipation I wasn't sure.
Boldly then, in keeping with all the play that had gone before, Jeff buried his paws in my neck ruff and kissed me immediately. His tongue played with my lips and sought entrance, which I yielded readily enough. We forgot about the cold.
I explored his body first with my paws, then with my tongue. True to its appearance, his smooth fur was silky to the touch, like the satin binding on an old blanket. His ears were perfect shells, and he shivered with pleasure as I nuzzled and breathed into them.
When my mouth found his right nipple and began to worry it as a dog would a new toy, he purred with pleasure. His cock rose in a heated bulk against the rough fur of my own belly, and I felt drops of moisture cool in the darkness where it touched. I sought it out with my paws, all the while keeping my mouth busy on his tits.
"Goddess, that's wonderful," he sighed, petting my ears with one paw, my ass with the other. Then, abrupt as the lightning outside, he heaved himself from under me and reversed our positions, attacking the inside of my thighs with his tongue. I twitched involuntarily, and my own cock emerged from its sheath and began to poke around his neck and chest.
Another lightning flash showed me his fuzzy white balls right in front of my face, so I went to work on them and he attacked mine with equal frenzy. His curving dick was drooling copiously into my chest fur now, and I kneaded his ass cheeks, reveling in the soft velvet that covered them.
Jeff sat up facing me, and when I started to join him he put his big paw against my chest and pushed me back down. I immediately realized that I'd underestimated his strength.
"Lie still," he murmured. His warm touch was replaced by cooler air and I missed him instantly, but he was back in a few seconds. Wrapping material crackled briefly in the darkness, and he started to roll a condom onto my cock. As soon as I realized what he was doing, I felt myself become even more fully engorged. The memory of that fuzzy little ass hung before my eyes like the after-image of a flashbulb in the darkness.
Then came a sensation I'd never felt before. He was completing the application of the rubber with his mouth, and expertly too. I groaned with pleasure and reached for him.
"I was never a scout," he said, laughing, "but I like their motto." With that, he thrust a plastic bottle of lube into my paw and rolled over on his belly. "C'mon, alpha wolf, fuck me good," he growled.
Usually I'd expect to be turned off by that kind of instruction. Perhaps my ego is a bit fragile, but if I'm going to be on top I like to think I'm in control as well. This time, though, I wanted his little ass. I'd been wanting it ever since I first saw it, and I was planning to enjoy it thoroughly.
Squeezing the slippery lube into my paw, I started working it between his fuzzy ass-cheeks. He raised his hips in response, pushing back against me. I spread more of the stuff on my now-throbbing erection and positioned myself between his legs. Caressing his back with one paw to distract him a bit, I set the head of my latex-shrouded cock against his asshole and waited.
I felt him opening and pressed inward, but he gasped in pain. When I eased off, he pushed against me harder.
"It'll be OK," he said. "Give me a good slap across the butt."
An enormous thunderclap coincided with my slap, and he opened to me fully. I buried myself in his hot little ass and lay on his back panting with pleasure. In spite of the cooler air, heat pocketed quickly between us.
When he began to squirm under me, I started to fuck in earnest. It felt great. He was an expert, massaging my hard prick with his ass muscles so that I was ready to explode far too soon.
With a sudden worried thought, I pulled out and checked for the condom with my paw. It seemed to be intact, even though I'd felt as though I were riding him bareback.
"C'mon, lover, you aren't finished yet," he told me.
"Damn right, I'm not," I answered, and rammed it into him again. Slow, then fast, I pumped into Jeff's little ass, all the while running my claws and tongue over his body that was so hard and smooth. I was getting close and knew I couldn't hold on much longer, so I reached under and began to jerk him off. He responded by thrusting with his arms, rolling us both over so that he lay on his back atop me. I couldn't get much leverage that way, and I felt the edge of orgasm recede as he laid his webbed paw over my own and guided my movements on his cock.
With a huge groan of pleasure, he came. Hot liquid squirted onto his belly and chest while he twitched and moaned on top of me. I spread the stuff around with my paws, hoping it would dry and pucker quickly to remind him of what we were doing. I began to play with both his tits at once, but he crossed his arms over his chest, trapping my paws, and rolled onto his belly again.
Attached as I was at three points, I had no choice but to ride with him, and then ride on him as he began to buck against me with unexpected power. I pulled my paws free and put them on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the floor as I fucked his ass hard.
Out, out, almost to the very edge, and then I plunged my whole length into him at once. Again and again, and I could feel the cum rising all the way from the back of my ass.
"C'mon, Tom, fill up that little balloon," he urged me. I couldn't hold out much longer and I dug into him with my hips, feeling my knot pop into his hot ass and bind him to me. Like an earthquake, the roar of the climax rolled over me, drowning out even the sound of the rain outside.
Tiny involuntary twitches still shook my legs and hips as I teased his ear with my tongue. Displaying that impressive strength again, he rolled us both onto our sides and twisted sinuously to replace his ear with his mouth. Our tongues met and played.
"We ought to go out in the rain and wash off," I said at last, when I felt the tie between us loosen and cold air seeping between us.
"Yeah," he sighed. I took his paw in mine and led him out into the cold rain. The lightning had faded into the distance, but the drops were still falling steadily.
Back inside, we shook ourselves and snuggled into the sleeping bags. He lay against the front of me and rubbed his back into my chest fur, holding my paws around him with his own. As the rain subsided outside, we slept.
I awoke in the grey dawn to see those incredible blue eyes watching me. He smiled.
"Mind if I walk to Rock Harbor with you?" he asked.
"Do you need to ask?" I said. "What about your limnology work?"
"No problem," he told me. "I'll just tell Vic that I'll be back in a couple of days. He'll store my samples and stuff for me." That reminded me of something I'd meant to ask.
"What's Vic's story anyway? He seemed uncommonly interested in the two of us."
"He's married and has a daughter," Jeff said. "But you're the third gay fur he's brought down to share this shelter with me...and by far the best."
"Well, I guess he can do without the entertainment for a day or two. Let's get some coffee and get going." I patted his hot little ass and started to pack for another day on the trail, this time with company.