Smoke Jumper - Sex Stories

Smoke Jumper

... anger melted away, as did his soft, flabby middle revealing actual abdominal muscles! His non-descript shoulders and arms also grew more muscular and more defined as the weeks went by.

In the end, though, it wasn’t enough. Not quite anyway. He missed the cut for the smoke jumpers program but had exhibited enough grit and gumption that he was offered the chance to man a fire tower for the summer, which came with a chance to re-enroll in the program the next spring. Fresh out of other options, he leapt at the chance.

Yes, the job of sitting atop a tower scanning miles of the Rocky Mountain landscape for signs of fire would mean weeks of isolation but if it got him closer to a seat on the plane, it was worth it.

In his downtime, Jake committed himself to more physical labor to increase his odds of making the cut the next year. He cut, hauled, and split more firewood than he could burn through in a year. With no weight room within fifty miles, he took to spending afternoons hauling the biggest rocks he could heft up the hill to the tower and built a low rock wall around the base. Throw in a daily five-mile hike, down and up the peak, and hauling water from the stream two miles away, and he often found himself so tired that he struggled to stay awake some nights to see if the Northern Lights might put on a show.

He quickly settled into this solitary pioneer lifestyle, but eight weeks in he jumped at the chance for a brief furlough when it was offered, which is how he ...

... found himself in Libby, Montana. While small, the town qualified as more than a wide spot in the road, and after two months alone in the mountains, its main street looked like Broadway to him.

With only seventy-two hours in town, Jake set his sights on finding decent food, cold beer, and enough books to fill his rucksack. Catching a glimpse of himself in a storefront window, he realized that he also might want to buy some new clothes. The jeans and t-shirt he wore had fit when he headed west, but the figure in the window had broader shoulders and a narrower waist than the college dropout who had shoved them in his backpack months earlier. He admired how the shirt stretched across his pecs and how the sleeves could no longer contain his biceps. However, the stains from sweat, food, and a bit of blood here and there, were less impressive. His jeans looked no better. Ripped and torn, they hung from his hips.

He spotted a thrift shop two doors down where he quickly secured a pair of “well-loved” jeans that fit like a glove, a couple of shirts, and directions to the only motel in town. He checked into a room and immediately treated himself to the first hot shower he had had since he took his post. The shave with a fresh razor and an actual mirror was almost as glorious. But those things paled in comparison to a cold beer and a burger at the bar around the corner.

By the time he wandered into the library, he didn’t have a want in the world. That is until he laid eyes on ...