When I was a hill runner I loved to enjoy the views from the top of a mountain, which I often found to be a very erotic experinece - in the right weather! This is a story of what I used to do when alone on a mountain top.
We were travelling in our campervan, or RV , to the most westerly point on the mainland of Scotland. After a long journey, my wife and I arrived at a campsite overlooking the sea with a magnificent view of the Isle of Mull which seemed to be a sea monster arising from the deep, crouching on the horizon. The waves reflected the sun now slipping slowly towards the west, creating a bright restless, rippling and shifting light on the surface of the sea. After driving for several hours, I was keen to have a short training run before the sun sank too low in the sky, so with a quick wave to my wife, I took the shortest way onto the heather clad hills rising behind the campsite. An open gate led to a grassy track which snaked up the hillside. The gradient was not too steep and, since at that time I was in good shape, I easily maintained a steady pace all the way to the summit. Reaching the highest point of the mountain, or Ben as they are called in Scotland, I turned around to admire the view, I remembered why I love this part of the UK. It is remote, quiet and stunningly beautiful. Rarely do you see other people on the hills, so you have the sense that you have them all to yourself (and a few hundred sheep). Now here’s a question. Am I strange for finding wonderful views of landscapes very erotic? Well, strange or not, as I survey the sea, the hills, the sky, a sense of well-being spreads through my body and my cock starts to swell, pushing against my running shorts. I look around to find an area of long grass and heather where I could rest my back against a boulder, take off my shorts and running vest and feel the sun on my naked body. Now I am wearing only my running shoes. Caressing my already firm penis, it soon becomes hard. It represents everything in me that is strong, virile, energetic, powerful, but at the same time sensitive, responsive and alert. I hold the shaft of my cock, moving my hand slowly, gripping it firmly, allowing my foreskin to slide over the crown of my penis. I change to my left hand which somehow always feels very different to my right hand. My right hand strokes strongly, with a firm grip and a determined motion, whereas my left hand has a much lighter touch, more feminine, and it wanks my cock with quick feathery movements. When I feel myself reaching a climax I switch back to my right hand. I look at the blue sky and feel glad to be alive as a few more powerful strokes cause my semen to spurt out in an arc over my stomach and chest. Then I relax, feel the euphoria, the glorious pleasure of fulfilment that comes with a satisfying climax. I close my eyes, listen to the bird song, the hum of the bees on the flowers of the heather and wipe the cum from my body with my vest. The view is even more beautiful now as the sun casts a rosy glow over the sea. I slip my shorts and vest back on, stand for another minute or two, and then descend the hill as fast as I can go. I continue to treasure throughout my life these glorious memories of solo self-pleasuring in an amazing natural environment
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