No tinkling from carbine hooks, so it wasn’t a rock-climber. Sailcloth swish — a day-pack being pulled off a shoulder and dropped on the granite? ...elcro buzz — feet being released from hiking boots? Rustling sounds — clothes? Yes, because now the sounds of wading and swimming. His secret swimming-hole wasn’t a secret any more — had he lost his place of refuge? Three strokes out, but instead of three strokes back there were more wading sounds followed by wet bare feet on rock. On this side,. I was still skeptical.My friends were still in the bar, and I didn’t wanna spend too much time where and risk getting caught. He said, “Mera bhar gaya hai, jald hi girega. Lekin gand chahiye, please chalo, fatafat ho jayega.” (I’m on the edge of cumming, I just wanna quickly fuck your ass. I’ll finish fast, please let’s just do it quickly).I said to myself, “Oh well, fuck it” and went inside the latrine. He followed me and closed the door. I turned around and spread my legs. He pulled my pants. More

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