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He guided me to the living room. He sat in a big recliner. I went to sit on the sofa, but he pulled my arm. It brought me to my knees next to the chair. I moved to in front of him. I was hesitant to try anything. I reached for his hard cock. He didn’t stop me this time. I stroked it a few times and then brought my mouth down to taste him. I licked the length and the tip. Slowly my mouth took him inside. I barely had half of him in when I started to gag. I went to move my hand down to pleasure myself. He stopped me. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He grabbed both my hands and held them in one of his. He placed his other hand on the back of my head to hold me down on his cock. He pushed deeper into my throat each time. My eyes watered; I tried to catch my breath. With every thrust, I would gag. I thought I was going to throw up. His cock was in my throat; I could feel it as it throbbed. He held my head and thrust one last time. I felt his warm cum slide down my throat. I couldn’t. I was not disappointed. The following morning I carried my now dry sneakers across the stream and began walking a trail on that side about ten meters away from my tent. I again used the tacks to mark my way. The trail was clear and I knew it was the right way because their aroma permeated the path. The trail forced me under a highway bridge and to cross the stream but I could do that without getting my feet wet so I did. About two hundred meters further I suddenly found myself running into previously posted tacks. I had been there before. It had been a much shorter trip to that spot that morning. I was on the trail where I had felt I was being followed. I then realized I was being followed. I did continue past what I knew was the last tack so I resumed planting them every two hundred meters or so. I stopped for some energy drink and an energy bar then continued after leaving three marshmallows behind. I was maybe five kilometers from the campground when I heard a strange humming.
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