I had never been afraid of being alone in the forests, even though there was no shortage of horrendous accounts of people killed or horribly scarred by attacks from bears, cougars, and even wolves in the forests of British Columbia. I had grown up in Australia, where the dangers of attacks on land came from far smaller creatures: snakes, centipedes, spiders, scorpions, and even ants. Any of those could kill me without me even seeing it. I had studied up on ways to avoid or scare off the larger creatures I might run into here in Canada.

On this particular trip into the backwoods, I had not intended to be hiking alone, but my fuck-buddy, who had planned to accompany me, had come down with a fairly bad case of COVID at the last minute, and was recovering in isolation. It was COVID, too, that was responsible for my freedom. The private school for which I worked had closed its doors after a series of outbreaks. So, taking just a few loose bills in cash, I had hitch-hiked to Pemberton from Vancouver and set out alone.

So it was that I found myself deep in the forests about 50 kilometres north of Whistler on a sunny summery morning in late May. I was among tall old-growth timbers, having spent the night sound asleep in my sleeping-bag, tired out from my first day of hiking from my starting point near Pemberton. I was aiming for a tall mountain in the same mountain range as Whistler. I had been told it was a fairly easy climb with great views on all sides. At this time of year, most snow would have melted away.

As I trudged through the times, my camera at the ready to capture any interesting bird, animal, or insect, I began to scent a strange smell — one I didn't recognize, but the best I can describe it is my own smelly headcheese when I haven't washed under my foreskin for a few days. A smell of sex!

And there was something more. Every now and then I would hear a rustling in the bushes, or a grunt, or a snort, something like the sounds a cougar might make, so I went into a state of heightened awareness. But I was not expecting what I eventually saw!

I don't know just how it happened. I had been trying to avoid "it" - whatever "it" was – and "it" had been trying to avoid being seen by me, but I guess chance would have it that we both took a wrong turn around the wrong tree, and suddenly we were face-to-face.

"It" was a humanoid creature about seven feet tall. It was covered in long brownish fur from head to toe, even on its very noticeable penis, which seemed to be sheathed like a dog's, but its purplish head poked out. The creature was as shocked to see me as I was to see it, although I am sure it had been trailing me for some time. I think its shock was at being seen by me at all.

We both turned tail and ran! I had gone perhaps a hundred yards before I realized the thing was not following me. I stopped and listened, but there were no sounds among the trees and the undergrowth. Once I calmed down, I realized I had dropped my precious camera when I saw the creature, so I decided to go back to retrieve it.

Very cautiously, I made my way back through the woods. I soon came to the spot where I was sure I had seen the beast, and where I had lost my camera. Sure enough, there was my camera. It seemed to be undamaged.

By now I felt certain the creature meant me no harm, so I decided to continue with my hike to the mountains. But I kept an eye open in hopes of getting another look at Bigfoot or Sasquatch, if that is what he was.

Sure enough, he was still there, keeping an eye on me, peeping out curiously from behind trees. I eventually got a full view of him once more, when he stepped out briefly from behind a large tree. I pretended not to see him, and he lingered, watching me. But when I started to move toward him, he disappeared, not to return.

I covered a few more miles that morning and afternoon, resting only for a lunch of granola bars and water from my canteen. By evening I had reached the base of the mountain I had been heading for. I could see that is would be a simple, but arduous climb in the morning, so I made camp by a mountain stream and started a campfire with the ample dry firewood from the previous seasons' flash floods from melting snows. I used it to fry up a couple I eggs I had safely buried in my excellent all-seasons sleeping bag before I set out. I had a little fold up cooking-and-eating set. I cooked the eggs in the 'lid" and boiled some water in the base to make a cup of coffee.

I had not seen my friend again, but I knew he was out there somewhere, but I was certain he was no danger to me.

The weather was now warm enough that I hadn't bothered with a tent, and the sleeping bag was warm enough that I didn't wear my clothes to bed. I preferred sleeping naked, anyway. So I crawled into my sleeping bag soon after the sun dipped below the horizon, and lay there naked, thinking about the amazing creature that I had stumbled upon.

It was actually too hot in the sleeping-bag, so I unzipped it, and just let it lay over me to keep off any dew or stray mosquitoes. It didn't take long for me to drift off into a sleep state full of dreams of large hairy beings with erect cocks. And that is just what I awoke to.

The Sasquatch was on top of me, pinning me down, his ugly face close to mine, his hot breath blowing on me! And that smell I had scented in the forest, that smell of smegma –headcheese– the smell of mansex!

I panicked. I had read that to scare off a wild beast you raise yourself up as tall as possible and make as much noise as you can. But it's kind of hard to raise yourself up when you are pinned down by a seven-foot monster! I did manage to scream and yell and squirm a lot, but I'm sure the creature just laughed. Yes, laughed, not like a chimpanzee laughs, but like a human laughs!

So I gave up on that ploy. I had also read that the next trick to try is to play dead, so I did that, too, and just lay there, inert, waiting for what would come next. Was I about to die?

The Bigfoot was a black shadow against the stars above us. His head can down toward my throat. This was it, for sure. He was about to tear my throat out. I throttled a scream. He sniffed me. He sniffed my neck, my armpits, my crotch. They he came back to my face. He began to lick me. He licked my face, my mouth, my nipples, my armpits, my navel ... and my penis! His rough tongue felt so great on my cock, that despite my fear, I began to get a hard-on!

I am sure my attacker laughed again when he discovered this, then he licked it some more. My cock hardened even more, and soon I was fully erect. The monster stopped licking and took my whole cock into his mouth! Was he going to bite it off? No! He began sucking it. I was being given a blow-job by a wild beast, a monster, a Sasquatch!

Just when my cock was about to explode and send a river of cum into the beast's mouth, he stopped. As he knelt over me, he took my legs and used them to flip me over. Then he was sniffing again. He was sniffing my asshole, which couldn't have smelled too bad, because I washed it in the mountain stream before getting into my sleeping bag. Anyway, he seemed to like the smell because he stopped sniffing and started licking, so now I was being rimmed by this monster. But it felt so good. He had a large, long, rough tongue and he was sending shivers up my spine.

Feeling curious, and very adventurous, I reached back in the dark and fumbled for his crotch. I felt his furry balls, tight against his body, but huge inside their furry casing. I felt his cock, which now was protruding well out of its furry sheath, probably nine or ten inches in all, six or seven of the inches outside the sheath, more like a dog's cock than a human's. It was wet and slimy with what I presumed was precum or some other form of bodily lubricant. Suddenly it dawned on me what was to come. I was about to be fucked!

Fear filled me once more! Every woman and most men have an inbred fear of being raped, and I am no exception. The fear of being taken by force, being bored into by an invading cock horrified me, the brutality of rape horrified me. I began to struggle again, but he held me down with one hand planted in the middle of my back, pinning me down. With the other hand he spread my legs and I struggled more. He forced my legs apart once more, and used his own hairy legs to keep them apart. For the first time he used words – not grunts, words! It sounded like he said: "Massi, Massi," softly and soothingly.

In the dark, I heard him spit, then his fingers found my hole, spreading his spit on the outside, and slipping inside me quite gently to push some of his spit inside me. I was shocked. That was not the action of a savage rapist.

"Massi, Massi," he murmured again, as he lowered himself down onto me, his free hand guiding his cock to my hole. I knew from my exploration a little earlier than he did not have a large knob like men do, but more of a long taper, again like dogs and cats do. He gently, very gently, pushed the tip inside me. It didn't hurt me a bit. He pushed some more, and his greasy rod slipped further and further into me. I could feel it sliding up inside me, moving my intestines around to receive it. I had said that it must have been nine or ten inches in total, but now fully hard it was probably more like twelve total, with nine inches protruding from the sheath. I thought I would never be able to take it all, that it would tear something inside me, that I would die being fucked.

However, he was very gentle, and slowly inched his cock into me, pausing to allow me to become accommodated to his invading rod before proceeding. Slowly but surely he progressed inside me. At last his groin was pressed against my buttocks. He was fully into me. He spoke again,"Aah, Hoo!" words I didn't recognize, but I guessed to mean "Ah good!" and even though I was a prisoner, being raped by a seven-foot monster with a fat nine or ten inch cock, I had to agree. It was "Aah, Hoo!" In all my experience of anal sex I had never felt so fully complete. It was as if that giant cock was made for my asshole.

The man-beast began to make the hip-thrusting movements that we all know so well. He was fucking me slowly and deliberately, and I confess I enjoyed it.

Right about this time the moon rose over the mountain which I had been heading for. Sasquatch had stopped holding me down when he realized I was enjoying his invasion of my body, and I was able to turn my head and shoulder to see him on top of me, thrusting his huge penis into my hole. It didn't hurt, because his gonads or glands were secreting ample pre-cum, as evidenced by a wet puddle on the sleeping bag between my legs.

He was gradually speeding up his thrusts, and as he did, I felt a new experience just inside my anus. His cock was getting fatter and fatter. I was worried that it would tear me down there. It hurt quite badly. Just before I thought again that I might die here, and started to squirm, the creature murmured again, "Massi, Massi" which I now guessed to mean something like "Calm, calm!"

And I really needed to be calm, because I realized what had happened. His penis was truly like a dog's, and had a section near its base which swelled out and locked his penis in place. We were locked together like rutting dogs — "knotted", to use the slang expression. I knew that we would be tied together in this way at least until his erection went away.

And right then he gave a great shudder and I felt his dick pulsing inside me as he shot squirt after squirt of Sasquatch cum deep into me. At last it was over, and he rested down on top of me, but seeming fearful not to squash me, he took some of his weight on his arms and legs. When he realized I was no longer struggling, and that I couldn't get away from him, locked together as we were, he rolled off me, turning me on my side as he did so, back to him, his cock still firmly in place, a bridge between us.

I tried to pull away, but his cock didn't budge. I guessed then, that this creature didn't get soft straight away after ejaculation like men do. So I just lay there — and enjoyed it! That huge monstrosity inside me felt fantastic! I didn't want it to come out! Ever!

We lay there in the moonlight on the sleeping bag for the longest time. His penis would start to soften and shrink inside me, but with the slightest movement on my part or his, it would stiffen right up again. I was really surprised, when after half and hour or so he again started to spasm and shot another load of his cum into me, and still his bulb did not shrink to release me from its hold.

I was even more surprised when he reached around me and took my cock in his grasp. In spite of their black, leathery look, his fingers and palms were very soft on my cock. Despite being raped, I had been very excited by it all and my dick was still very hard. My captor laughed again when he discovered this. He began to gently masturbate me; he even used some of the fluid that was seeping out of my asshole, even constricted as it was, to lubricate my cock.

It was obvious that Sasquatches must masturbate, too, because he knew all the right moves to keep me hard and bring me to the point of ejaculation.

When I came, he laughed again, catching my seed in his palm. He took it toward his mouth, and I could hear him licking it up noisily. He again muttered "Hoo. Hoo," which confirmed my guess that "Hoo" meant "Good."

My cock softened, but his didn't, but I felt quite comfortable with that massive dick inside me, just resting there, and drifted off to sleep, with one great hairy arm draped across me.

I woke again some time later as he spasmed once more and shot another load of his cum into me to join the previous two, then we both drifted off to sleep again.

When I awoke a second time, it was at the feeling of his cock, now only semi-hard, slipping down and out of me. It popped out, and being free, I sat up. It was already dawn. Although the sun was not yet in the sky, there was ample light to see. I knew I should run, but more than the need to escape, I had the greater need to shit. He started to grab me when I stood and stepped off the sleeping-bag, but relaxed and sat there watching me as I squatted down and squeezed. The creature's cum flooded out of me, like the outpouring of water after using a larger douche syringe. There must have been half a cupful worth from the three times he had cum inside me!

He watched this performance with glee, and then laughed uproariously!

It also seemed to satisfy him that I wouldn't run away, and he allowed me to get dressed and pack my belongings back in my knapsack, including my cum-stained sleeping bag. While I did that, he rose and peed, just as a man would do, holding the end of his dick and spraying the vegetation with piss. But then he squatted and took a crap where I had shot out his cum, then carefully covered it all with soil and leaves.

He was fascinated when I restarted my small campfire and made myself a cup of coffee. I tried to take a photograph of him, but for the first time I saw him angry. He seemed to think it was some type of weapon, maybe a firearm of some sort, and he dashed the camera from my hards to the group. He picked up a rock, and smashed it down on the camera. When he was sure it was "dead" he resumed his composure.

I started to go back the way we had come, but he stopped me. Instead he beckoned me to follow him. "Va! Va!" he said.

I had no choice. I gathered my remaining belongings and followed him. But his long legs and agility were too much for me. He had to continually stop and wait for me to catch up. Eventually he grew impatient, and he swept my up in his arms and carried me like a parent might carry a child to bed. I seemed to be no weight to him at all. He strode along over all sorts of terrain as if I were just a feather pillow in his arms. It seemed like forever, but it must have been only around noon when we came to a sort of alpine lea, with just a few spindly trees, the remains of some sort of shack, probably once belonging to a prospector, and, wonder of wonders, several more Sasquatches! There was seven or eight in all, scattered around the small glen.

My captor set me down in the middle of the clearing. He then sat himself down on a large rocky outcrop nearby, panting, showing for the first time the exertion of carrying me for so many rugged miles.

The other Sasquatches had noticed our arrival, and were approaching me with attitudes os interest or anger, I wasn't sure which. One large male eyed me curiously for quite a while, then jabbered a few words to my beast. Because of his greying reddish body hair I guessed he was an elder of the group. My Sasquatch answered him with a few short sentences in which I recognized 'Massi' and 'Hoo' a couple of times. The elder beast spoke a few more words, which included the word 'mada' several times, but my captor insisted 'Hoo,' several times. Eventually the elder uttered several more words, nodded at me, then wandered off. Other Sasquatches eyed me for a while, then they too went back about their business.

My Sasquatch eventually stood up and shambled up to me. Then he did something completely unexpected. He put his arms around me and hugged me, like a father with a son — or a man with a younger lover! Then he bent his head and rubbed his short nose on my forehead. I assumed right away that that was an expression of endearment.

He then beckoned me to follow him once more, and he led me through the pasture to a small grove of bushes and trees. Here there were vines of ripe blackberries, salmonberries, loganberries, and others I didn't recognize. The small stream of water that made its way through the valley and down to the distant sea also cut through here. I followed suit when he began to eat the berries. I was ravenous. I balked a little when he plucked from the soil a large mushroom of some sort and broke of a chunk and handed it to me to eat, but eventually I gobbled it down.

While we satisfied our hungers, he gave me a little language lesson. He pointed at each of the berry types in turn, saying something that sounded like 'garg' which I soon understood to mean 'berry,' while ''boni" was "mushroom' and 'varg' was water.

I pointed to him and to a couple of other Sasquatches nearby and looked puzzled. He got the idea and told me they were "Gana.' He then pointed to me and mouthed 'Akgana.' He clearly understood I was not one of them. He was Gana: I was Akgana.

That afternoon as we lazed in the valley, one of the other 'Ganas' came to inspect me. He bent and sniffed my crotch and my ass. My Gana gave a low growl to warn him off, and he backed off immediately. The two held a brief conversation. It was obvious that the interloper wanted something from me. I was praying it was not sex!

My Gana started pointing to my knapsack, and making giving away gestures with his arms and hands. I eventually clued in that he wanted me to give something to the other Gana. I pulled out a Tilley hat from my knapsack and put it on my head. I took it off, and handed it to our visitor. He took it eagerly and tried to put in on his own head but it was too small. Unfazed, he went away, happily clutching his prize.

I needed to get the idea of 'Name' across to my Gana, so I pointed to myself and said 'Akgana' followed by 'Brad.' I pointed to him and said 'Gana' at which he nodded, but then I gave a puzzled look. Then I pointed to myself again and said 'Akgana' and 'Brad' then pointed to our friend with my hat and said 'Gana' and nodded, then looked puzzled once again.

My captor still looked puzzled so I repeated the pattern over and over. Eventually a light of dawning came onto his face. He pointed at me and said 'Akgana' and then 'Brahda' then at himself and said 'Gana' and then 'Toola.' I thought he had got it, but I wasn't sure until he pointed to the Sasquatch with my hat and said 'Gana' then ' Wahna.' He then pointed at me and said 'Brahda,' at himself and said 'Toola,' and at the distant Bigfoot and said 'Wahna' again. It was clear, I was Brahda and he was Toola. The Ganas each had their own names! I later learned the the Elder Sasquatch was named Gorga.

That afternoon each of the other Gana in the valley, eight of them, including Toola, came by to ask for some sort of treasure from my knapsack. I gave away two pairs of socks (one sock for each of 4 Ganas) a towel, and a bandana. Only later did I come to realize that ownership is not a concept in that nomadic society. They would eventually stash their prizes together in a hidden cache until they were ready to leave or to be revisited at some future time when they passed this way again.

As each Gana came to call, Toola told me their names, even though I could hardly tell them apart. The four with the socks were Alga, Bala, Geeha, and Ahee. Gorgo, the elder, got the bandana. The towel went to Traba, who seemed by his height and weight to be the youngest Gana. He was not much taller than me, but somewhat heavier.

Also on that first afternoon, I came to realize there were no females in this group. That they were all males was a rather obvious fact – their large penis sheath with the purplish head of their dicks just poking out. Maybe that would explain why I later saw two of the male Ganas fucking each other. They were very enthusiastic about it, and did it sort of doggy-style. One Gana rested his hards on a tree-trunk and bent over slightly. The other male entered him from behind. The two then fucked quite joyously, obviously both of them enjoying it, but after a fairly short time, the fucker pulled out and the couple switched places, the fucker becoming the fuckee, sort of a turnabout. But again, after a brief period of fucking, the two switched places and resumed fucking again.

Then when both had had enough of fucking, they both masturbated. When they did this, I saw that the bases of their cocks engorged as they came close to ejaculating, like red balloons in their shafts. This was what had held my ass tight on Toola's cock. As the two eventually came, shooting their large loads into their palms and then offering it each to the other to drink, I realized that the switch-about was to keep them from getting locked together. They would pull out when ejaculation was close, and knotting was imminent. This was a safety measure. They were free to run if danger occurred.

At night, I later found, Gana were not so cautious. They would pair up for the night, and most pairs would fuck, remaining knotted for most of the night.

For our supper that first night, I provided most of the food. I shared with Toola one of my last two granola bars, which he obviously really enjoyed. Of course, the nuts and grains and honey were no new tastes for him, but the dark chocolate certainly was. I also gave him a dried sausage stick to try. They were German sausages, not pepperoni, and it took him a while to get used to the idea of holding it in his mouth until his saliva softened it and released the flavours. Toola in turn gave me some root vegetable. I have no idea what it was. It had the texture of a potato, but tasted like sugar cane. It was delightful and juicy.

As the sun went down, he lead me deeper into the thicket where we had picked berries. In there there was a patch of flattened grasses. I assumed this was his sleeping area. I spread my sleeping bag, which still showed signs of the previous night's activities. He grinned broadly! I lay down in my clothes, but Toola motioned for me to take them off. I did so, and lay down naked. He lay down beside me and wrapped his giant furry arm across me. His fur felt warm and good against my naked skin, like the fur of a long-haired dog, a collie, perhaps.

Last night I had been afraid I was going to get raped. Tonight I was hoping I was going to get raped.

But it seemed Toola was not going to make any move. Maybe he was too tired, and maybe just not interested in sex tonight. But I am always interested in sex, even if it's sex with a hairy seven-foot creature. I reached behind me and fumbled for Toola's cock-sheath. He laughed, then made a coo-ing sound as if he liked that. I started to caress his cock-sheath gently, and immediately the shaft of his cock began to emerge from its furry home. In my hand it grew and grew, and like the previous night it was already wet and slippery with some bodily fluid. The inside of the sheath must excrete this natural lubricant as the cock of the Gana emerges. It was wet enough to gather some of the fluid in my fingers and rub it on and into my asshole. Then I guided his pointy prick to its destination.

As I pushed back onto his penis, he murmured 'Trok hoo, ah?' A rising inflection seems common to many languages for a question, and I took him to mean "Fuck good, eh?" Already his fat, slimy cock was inching up into me, and at every inch I felt greater pleasure. Again Toola went very slowly, being careful not to harm me. When I winced once, he stopped and drew back a little until I relaxed, then began to ease it deeper into me again, muttering "hoo," or "trok hoo" again and again as he slowly entered my asshole.

He pulled the sleeping-bag from beneath us and cast it aside, probably to save it from our seminal juices. It didn't matter because we were in an area of soft mosses and lupins.

Deeper and deeper his penis went into me. Again I felt my intestines moving to accommodate the intruder, but there was no pain attached, just a sensation of fulness and fulfilment. You may think I am some kind of sicko, but I loved having this man-beast's cock inside me. It was better than any large human cock I had ever had, especially since most of guys with biggies seem to like to pound an ass like mad, cum, and then go! Toola seemed to like to start slowly, gently, feeling all the pleasure and warmth of my anal muscles gripping him. I understood also that the Sasquatch shaft is very sensitive, like the head of uncircumcised men, but all the way along its length due to being sheathed most of the time, which probably also explained the natural lubrication that seemed to seep out of the pores of the penis itself as well as some pocket inside the sheath.

Whatever the explanation, it made for very pleasant fucking, and he pushed slowly in and drew slowly out again and again, and every insertion and withdrawal sent shivers through my whole body.

While he fucked me, he again reached over and fondled the knob of my dick, seeming pleased when he found me leaking pre-cum.

After a while of laying on our sides, he wanted to pick up the pace a little, and pulled me up into doggy position, kneeling behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He sped up. his fucking motions and in and out his penis went, in and out, faster and faster. Eventually I felt the ballooning in between my sphincter rings. I knew he was about to cum. I felt the first surge of his fluids into me. I felt him shudder. Looking back over my shoulder I saw him raise himself up, standing on his knees thrusting deep into me, and give a cry of victory, of pleasure, beating his chest as he flooded my inside.

Done, he collapsed beside me, locked together with me. As the previous night, having satisfied himself, he gave me the same satisfaction by jacking me off with his soft fingers, and as before caught my cum in his palm. This time he offered me a taste, but I shook my head "no' and he licked it up himself. Both satisfied, we lay, his penis deep in my ass, and his warm, hairy arm draped across me, and went to sleep!

Twice during the night, his stirring woke me, and both times he was again fucking me because the knotting bulb had gone down a little, allowing him some movement, but each time, after a couple of minutes of penetrating thrusts, he came again. They were powerful spirts, and I could actually feel them. I felt like he was giving me a gift! I smiled and went back to sleep.

When I awoke once more it was light. The sun was not up yet, but the pre-dawn light was quite bright. It had been Toola's cock sliding out of me that awoke me. I needed to get rid of the load of Sasquatch cum I carried inside me. I stood and walked a few paces to a clear spot, squatted, and squeezed, and the flood of semen poured out of me, along with a couple of decent turds.

While I did that, Toola was busy taking a piss, only the second I had seen him take. The Gana must have enormous bladders. I had taken several leaks in the last 36 hours.

When I had done, he too, took a dump where I had done so, then, as before, covered our excreta with dirt and grass and leaves. I now guessed that this was one way the Sasquatch hid the fact of their existence. There were no droppings left behind.

Because of his reaction when I lit the morning campfire the previous day, I had assumed the Gana did not have fire, but I was wrong. After I repacked my knapsack, Toola again beckoned me to come. I followed him across the vale to a rocky outcrop. Inside this ring of rocks there was a clear area with no vegetation at all, and here three of the other Gana were gathered. There was a very small fire going between them. They were cooking something on a stick. It appeared to be a rabbit, gutted, but with its fur still on. The stench of burning fur was dreadful, but as the fur finally burned away, the smell of cooking meat took its place.

The trio eyed me curiously during their cooking as they had done the afternoon before, and carried on some sort of a conversation with Toola, obviously about me, as they kept looking at me. Toola seemed to assure them that I was 'hoo,' but not only that. I was a 'hoo trok,' also. It was nice to know I was a good fuck!

As the trio left with their cooked meat, they said something to Toola, and he nodded, yes. The Gana and men have the same head movements for yes and no!

I took out my pannikin, added some water from a small thermos I carried, and set about to make some coffee. In the lid half of the pannikin I opened my only can of corned beef, cut it into four slices, and fried them. Toola sniffed at the frying meat suspiciously. He started to finger at the empty tin can, but I took it from him and told him 'mada.' He took my word for it that it was somehow bad, and didn't attempt to play with the sharp opened can again.

I made instant coffee in the tin mug that was part of the pannikin set, and slowly sipped it while the beef fried. When the meat had cooled a little, I offered a piece to my captor. He took it and blew on it, just as we would do, before trying it. He loved it, and gobbled it down, putting his hand out for more. I gave him a second helping, and then a third. I would have to settle for just one slice!

When we had finished our meagre breakfast, Toola took pains to make sure the fire was out and to completely bury it. At first I wondered why he did not bury the empty can, too, but of course, that was no part of their culture. It was part of mine, and would not arouse curiosity among other men who happened upon it.

We spend the rest of that day, and the next, idly roaming round the area, mostly looking for food: berries, nuts, mushrooms, birds' eggs, and from the stream a large trout, which Toola caught with his bare hands, flipping it out of the water onto the bank, as I have seen bears do in nature movies.

I later cooked the trout in my pannikin bottom, and we dined on the tasty fish together, again making absolutely sure the fire was out and buried. It was a very lazy life in the warm spring sunshine, and at night I had the warmth of Toola's massive hairy body to ward off the late frost or early morning dews that might occur.

The only tools I ever saw the Gana use were spears with fire-hardened points, rough clubs, coarse rope made from reeds or plant fibre of some sort, but also some surprisingly fine cord made from plant fibres, and flint knives. I did see one Gana with one of these flint blades lashed into a fork at the end of his wooden shaft as a spearhead. They had not yet invented the bow and arrow.

You may be wondering at this point why I was making no effort to escape. It was because I felt quite safe, and I was fascinated by the Gana people. Yes, I was now thinking of them as people, not as animals. They were more like the nomadic tribes of Africa or Australia, fast dying out as "civilization" moved in. I wanted to learn more about them. I saw myself bringing back news of them to the outside world and being hailed as a great discoverer. Not only that, I lived alone, I was on a COVID enforced summer leave from my teaching job, and no-one would be looking for me yet. I was not due back for one more day.

It was only on the fifth day of my "captivity," that I started to think of heading back home. I had no family to worry about me, and as it was COVID that had closed the school where I worked for an early summer, I would not be missed from my teaching position. Only my fuck-buddy might wonder where I was, so unless he worried, no-one was likely to come looking for me. I knew that if I kept going due west I would eventually come to a highway or the ocean.

But just as I was considering it, all the Gana, including Toola, became agitated. They all hastened to the covering of the nearby forest, Gana dragging me along behind him. When we were safely concealed, I heard what had bothered them. It was the chatter of helicopter blades in the sky above us. The sounds came closer and louder. The helicopter was circling the clearing we had been in — looking for signs of me, I presume. My buddy must have reported me missing. My knapsack was still out there, but hidden under the bush beside where Toola and I slept.

They were low enough now that we could see them from our concealment. Toola pointed to the copter and muttered 'akgana.' The copter hovered over the area for a few minutes, then lifted and was gone. We heard it disappearing back to the west from whence it had come. It was the only time I saw any indication that the outside world might be searching for me.

The Gana held a little conversation amongst themselves, pointing towards the east, then one of them eventually pointed at me and asked something of Toola. It was clear that they were discussing what to do about me. Once more I began to worry. Were they going to kill me? The answer came when Toola bent and scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder, and the whole group started moving toward the east. I had my answer. They were going further back into the mountains and I was going with them whether I liked it or not.

I was rather surprised that before leaving, they hurried to a small rock crevice in the area of the fire pit. There, one of them pulled out from the crevice the cache of all the gifts I had given them and other items, including a heap of the sugary root vegetable I had tried. And finally an amazingly fine mesh "shopping bag" woven together from the fine cord I have mentioned. Into this bag they bundled all my gifts and all the other stuff they had cached. It seemed to expand to fit the need. Then one of them slung the bag of treasures over his shoulder to lug to wherever we were going.

Toola made a small detour to collect my knapsack, before running to catch up with the rest of the tribe. After a while, we altered our positions so that I rode Toola piggy-back style, my arms around his neck and my legs clinging to his waist. It was far more comfortable for both of us.

All that day we travelled east though a low mountain pass between two mountains, then somewhat north-east, by my reckoning. I no longer had any idea where we might be. They strode along well into the night, pausing only to scrounge meagre meals of berries, nuts, grains, and insects. I ate only berries, and went to bed very hungry. Toola and I did not fuck that night, or the next, for the first time since he had captured me. For four nights I had slept with his cock strongly knotted to me. Now we just cuddled together. I assumed he was saving his strength for the march.

There were two more days like this, marching, eating, sleeping. The diet of nothing but berries had given me diarrhea and I had to beg Toola to stop often to let me shit.

The late afternoon of the third day we came down from a mountain pass into a broad valley with a small river running through it. At the lower areas there were thick stands of old-growth forest, and further down, along the river, a cliff, and at the base of that cliff, a series of cave openings. And by the mouths of those caves, three more adult Gana. As we approached, they rose to greet us, and called out, and from nearby, four more miniature Gana came running. These were the females and the young of the Gana.

The females looked much like the males of the tribe, minus the prominent penis sheath with the purple head peeping out, and with rather large pendulous breasts.

When Toola plunked me down amongst them, the women were intrigued, but the children, the eldest nearly as tall as me, ran away to hide, and only came out cautiously when it was clear that I was not great danger.

Both the women and the children seemed most amazed at my clothes and my bare skin. They considered me some kind of freak, and started away at my every move. But Toola reassured them, "Massi, Massi! Hoo, hoo!" Eventually they calmed down and accepted me as something good.

"Akgana Brad," he told them. "Brad hoo!" he added. "Toola trok Brad hoo!" It seemed he was very proud of the fact that he was fucking me, and wanted all the tribe to know about it. The children laughed and made the almost-universal sign for fucking – the fingers of one hand forming a circle and the index finger of the other poking in and out of the circle.

I had mistakenly thought that the old Gana - Gorga - was the leader of the tribe. I was quite wrong. This was a matriarchy. One of the females soon asserted herself. She came forward and appraised me, feeling me all over and sniffing, then nodding her head, OK, and pointed to one of the nearby caves. Toola made motions and utterances I assumed were thanks, then told me "Va!" I did as he asked and followed. He lead me to the cave the woman had indicated. It was not deep, but in the front area there was a fire pit, and to the back a nest of dried grasses. There were also some rude sun-dried clay pots, which I guessed would never hold water, but also a couple of gourd vessels which would. Where these gourds might have come from I have no idea – gourds are not native to our part of the world – but it was an indication that these Gana had some kind of contact with the wider world., that there must be or must have been a series of these tribes all the way down the Pacific Coast as far as Mexico, maybe, and they traded between themselves.

Toola gestured broadly to the cave interior, to the sleeping nest, to the utensils, and to the fire-pit then to me and then to himself. He exclaimed "Ama." I thought it meant 'ours,' but I later learned it meant 'our place' or 'home.'

And so Toola and I set up housekeeping in a small cave deep in the forests of British Columbia, presumably far from any other Akgana!

Late in the afternoon, Toola left me alone for a while while he went to talk with the other Gana. When he came back, he brought me a gift: the roasted leg of a small deer. It had been cooked without its skin on, thank goodness. He also had another treasure – a black lump. It was crusted black from a fire, but when he broke it open it was obviously wholegrain bread. Somehow these people grind grains or seeds into a coarse flour and add other seeds to make a heavy dough and bake it in the ashes. It was something like a coarse version of Austalian damper. Even without salt or ketchup, these basic foods were a welcome addition to berries and raw mushrooms. We made short work of the meat and the bread, which Toola cut up with a sharp wedge of flint.

My diarrhea was almost gone, but I had one last small urge to go. Using signs, I indicated this to Toola. He laughed and led me downriver about two-hundred yards. Here a man, or a Gana, could position himself on a couple of fallen tree trunks and do his business right into the river. He could even wash his ass in the clean, running water afterwards sort of a primitive bidet!

The four children had followed us to watch my ablutions and were delighted with my bare white bum as I took a crap. They were quite intrigued by me after their initial fear, and would hang around our cave trying to see more of me and my strange antics. They became quite friendly, and would follow along with me whenever I wandered from our cave, chattering with me as human children do, but mostly I had no idea what they were saying.

I did learn from them that 'Gana' could mean 'people' or 'man' or 'men,' while a small change to 'gani' meant 'woman' or 'women.' I also learned that the matriarch of the group was Ooda.

From the ratio of men to women, and the small number of young Gana, I surmised that these people were not very fertile, or that they had a very high child mortality rate. In the following days I learned that I had arrived in the rutting season, and it was the responsibility of the all male Gana to fuck the females Ganis as often as possible while they were in heat to ensure the survival of their tribe.

From the ages of the current children I would guess that there had been at least five years since the last successful pregnancy. The youngest Gana was already about 6 or 7 years old, if I could judge by what I knew of human children, and the oldest was about 15 years old, just a bit younger than Traba, the youngest male Gana I had previously met and had given the towel to. At first I had some trouble remembering these strange names, so I satisfied my self by naming the children from eldest down to youngest as Eenie, Meenie, Minee, and Mo. Mo was the only gani of the group. The rest were males.

That first night in our cave, Toola and I again slept hunkered together on our palliasse made of my sleeping-bag spread over the nest of dry grasses. I was surprised when he didn't want to fuck me right away, especially after our three day abstinence from sex. Instead, he seemed to be more interested in my cock than his own. He rolled me onto my back and fondled my dick with his soft black fingertips. When my penis was aroused, he bent over me and took it in his mouth and began to tongue and suck me. I got very hard very fast! His sand-papery tongue sent thrills from my knob to my balls!

When he had me full aroused and erect, he left my cock and knelt on hands and knees on the 'bed' beside me. He gestured toward his asshole with his thumb, a gesture that was easy to understand. He wanted me to fuck him. "Trok ay." he demanded, confirming the gesture (and giving me a new word for my vocabulary, for I correctly took 'ay' to mean 'me' or 'I' or 'my').

At first I was rather horrified at the idea of fucking him, but as I pondered it, I realized I had been allowing him to fuck me ever since that first night when he forced it on me. And I had been enjoying it! Enjoying this beast-man filling me up with his cock and his cum! So why not fuck him in return? I doubted I could give him the pleasure that he gave me, but why not try?

It was a little awkward to manage at first, because kneeling between his spread legs, my cock was still well below his butt hole. He bent his knees more and lowered his butt. I had to move back a bit, but at last I was able to reach his hole. My own dick had not loosed much precum, but Toola's cock was now clear of its pouch and oozing his pre-cum. I gathered some on my hand and rubbed it onto my dick and his hole. I was surprised at first by how easily my cock slid into him, I thought his hole would be extremely tight, but when I thought about it, I realized he must have been fucked many times by other tribe members over the years. Which made me think once more how my tiny six inches would never satisfy this big guy!

But I was totally surprised. He loved it, cooing and muttering "trok hoo" right from the very start. But, of course, I shouldn't have been surprised. For the gana, just like men, the anal area between the inner sphincter and the outer was the most sensitive in anal intercourse, which was why a small dick could be just as satisfying, if not as filling, as a huge dick in both species. Once I was in him, he tightened his sphincter and we were both in heaven!

On my knees, my cock inside his asshole, I fucked Toola continually for ages, slow and fast and slow again, pushing hard in and pulling slowly out, until my balls (and my knees) could take it no more. My juices flowed up from my balls and squirted deep into his bowels. I shuddered as I erupted, and Toola knew that I had cum, and I think he expected us to be locked together, but was puzzled when I pulled out easily. He rolled me on my back once more and inspected my cock for signs of a balloon at its base, but there was none.

His cock was still swollen and hard, not yet having cum, so I rolled onto my side, baring my ass. He lay on his side behind me, and soon entered me again, his nine or ten inches of unsheathed penis sliding easily and deeply into me. I loved every inch of it! When he came, we lay locked together and slept that way through the night.

I quickly settled into life in this hidden river valley, which I figured was somewhere between Whistler and Lytton. It was a lazy life of foraging for food and fucking. The Gana men loved to fuck, whether it was one of the Gani as part of their tribal duty or one of the other Gana males for fun.

There was ample fish on the Gana diet. They could catch trout, or even land-locked salmon by hard like a bear would or in primitive nets woven from the ropes and cords they hand-woven. They had learned to smoke and dry the fish and other meats for storage for winter in one very smelly cave. They even salted some, though salt was rare and precious to them. Where it came from I never learned.

I was also surprised to find a very basic garden in a loamy area close to the base of the cliffs. There I found rather surprising crops: some potatoes, some squash, some corn, and some carrots. None of these grow natively, and I didn't think they would have access to seeds, so I guessed these must have stolen the plants from some farmer's truck garden and replanted them here.

Another unlikely food they had was apples. I suppose it was not so unlikely when I think about it. I had found apple trees in odd places all over B.C. Birds had spread the seeds far and wide through their droppings.

They also kept caches of nuts, seeds, and roots, including the native hazelnuts, acorns, and pine seeds, and the sugar cane-like vegetable I had eaten before.

The ablutions of the Gana did include washing in the rivers and streams, but also included examining each other for ticks and fleas. They would also roll in the fine dry sand near the cliffs then shake it off vigorously like a dog does with water. I was more traditional, washing myself and my clothes at the edge of the river.

My live was interesting, easy, careless, and free. But days rolled into weeks, a month, two months. I calculated we were into August, and although I didn't mind my life here, especially the sex life, I was beginning to miss the civilized world, intelligent conversations, tasty food, my own bed, even TV. I guess it showed on my face, and in my bearing, because Toola started to question me about it. He would point at me, put on a sad face, and scratch his head quizzically. I knew he was asking "What's wrong?" I would just tell him 'ay ama' which I hoped meant 'my home.' The first few times he just nodded and pointed to our cave, and one time he even picked me up and carried me there for a quick fuck!

One morning, when we got up after a particularly good night of fucking, Toola looked at me sadly and told me, "ay tay vas tay ama." He began to stuff my belongings into my knapsack, and I guessed we were taking a trip. I finished the job, but didn't pack my sleeping bag. I signed to him that it was his now.

He led me down to the river where most of the tribe were doing their morning chores and rituals. He spoke with them and continually pointed at me and at the distant hills and mountains. The tribe responded with oohs and aahs, because what Toola was telling them, as he had told me, was that he and I were going on a journey, that he was taking me back to my home.

They looked sad, so I began to give them what few items I had left. I gave away my spare shirt, my second pair of undies, my shorts, my compass, my pannikin, and more, until only my knapsack was left. I knew I wouldn't be needing it, so I gave that to the matriarch Ooda. I had nothing left for the children. All I had left was what I was wearing, But Toola pointed to my clothes. He motioned that I should give them to the children, so I stripped off my shirt, my belt, my pants, and my undies. I gave them to each of the young Gana. Now I was most like them, naked except for my boots and socks.

Ooda stepped forward, proffering something in her big hand, a farewell gift . It was a delicately woven circular band of their fine cord, a wrist band, or at least that's what I took it to be, because I never saw any Gana wear such an item. They never wore anything. I took it and put in on my wrist like a bracelet and smiled and nodded in thanks.

Goodbyes complete, Toola bent his knees and offered my his back to climb onto piggy-back style. The tribe of Gana all waved as we set out on our journey. I had no idea where he was going to take me, but I did know we were heading north, not west, further away from my home on the coast, but I trusted that he knew what he was doing. He strode along for two days, and the terrain and the vegetation gradually changed. It became drier, and the trees smaller although there were still patches of taller trees. At the end of the second day we made a nest in some dry grass near a small creek and we had sex for the last time. It was unbelievably gentle and erotic, then we slept locked together as usual.

During the night, I awoke once to the sound of a truck engine somewhere nearby, and wanted to get up, but Toola murmured 'massi, massi' again and started fucking me once more till he squirted more cum into me and we slept again. Towards dawn, in the pre-dawn light, we lay side by side, just looking at each other, knowing this was goodbye. I saw the red shaft of his dog-like penis begin to grow from within its sheath once more, and did something I had not done before. I bent over his crotch, took the tip of the shaft in my mouth, and began to suck. The shaft grew in my mouth as I pushed my face down on it. The pre-cum which seeped out of it had a salty-sweetish taste, and felt a little oily in my mouth, but not unpleasantly. I forced the shaft further into my mouth and down my throat a little. I was hoping he would cum in my mouth. I guess Toola wanted that, too, for he began to massage the three or four inches that protruded from my mouth. I could see the base swelling into a red ball. He was about to cum. When he did, it blasted down my throat and filled my mouth, Some of it poured out of my nose, and I choked. Alarmed, Toola pulled his cock from my mouth, and I gasped for breath, Sasquatch cum dribbling from my mouth and nose. But there was still plenty left in my mouth. It had a sweetish taste like his pre-cum. I brought my face close to his and pointed to my cheeks, bulging with cum. He knew instinctively what I meant and lifted his head, his lips to mine, and in our first ever kiss, we opened our mouths together and some of his cum flowed. from my mouth to his. We swallowed, and smiled, and licked our lips. He licked some more from under my nose and my chin and we were done!

He led me though a last stand of taller timbers and we burst out onto a bitumen road, a narrow two-lane road in rather bad shape. He motioned me to go, pointing to the road. He remained at the edge of the thick bushes, watching.

And so it was that I stood, naked except for hiking boots and a hand-woven grass bracelet, on a country road somewhere in British Columbia, watched by a seven foot Sasquatch, my hairy lover.

Toola stayed there until we heard the roar of a distant engine. He stayed, even as it came closer and closer. Eventually, it rounded a distant bend and came toward me. I stuck out a thumb. The truck at first went right by me, ignoring me, but then it must have dawned on the driver that I was stark naked, because he jammed on the brakes and sat waiting while I ran to catch up. Before I clambered up to join him in the cab, I glanced back, but Toola was gone. A flood of emptiness overcame me for a moment, but then I closed the truck door and we took off down the road.

"Hmm, nice cock," commented the driver, glancing down at my crotch. He chuckled to himself. "Do you always go hitch-hiking bads-ass naked?"

I quickly made up a lie to explain myself. It was easier than telling the truth. I claimed that it was part of a University prank, an initiation prank for a fraternity. The members had left me here to find my own way home. He swallowed the story.

"I've got no idea where we are," I told him. "They kept me blindfolded all the way." He believed me.

"Well, I'm delivering supplies in to Gold Bridge, and then I'm headed back Kamloops. I can drop you off Mount Curry, if you like. I'm sure one of the native boys would be glad to give you a lift to Pemberton, and you could be back in Vancouver by this afternoon!"

"That sounds good to me," I agreed.

"Well, you can't go dressed like that," he commented. "I've got an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt you can have," he told me. Then he winked and added, "For a price!"

"And what's the price?" I asked. I had heard plenty of stories of truckers picking up hitch-hikers. I was expecting to have to blow him while we drove, or to get fucked in his sleeper. But he wanted neither. "I want to suck that nice cock!" I agreed to the suggestion and the first chance he got he pulled over to the side of the road, parked, and went down on me.

Once I came in his mouth, he clambered back into his sleeper and came back out with jeans and a t-shirt. I gladly took them and put them on. True to his word, he dropped me off just outside Mount Currie and I walked into the village. At the gas station, the native manager knew of a Lil'wat boy who was driving to Vancouver later that morning. I made up a new story that I had been robbed, and had no money or ID.

"No matter", he told me. "I'm sure Billy Two Bears will be happy for the company." As it turned out, Billy was glad to take me along for the company, and also because he liked his cock sucked. So for getting a blow job and giving one, I got myself from Gold Bridge to Vancouver!

But my problems weren't over. They were just beginning. I hitchhiked to my basement apartment, in the West End, but although the spare key was still in the garden where I had hidden it, it didn't work. The lock had been changed. I managed to peek in through one of the ground level windows, but the stuff in there wasn't mine. Someone else was living in my apartment.

I walked to the workplace of Jay, the fuck-buddy who had originally planned to come on my hike with me, and arrived just as he got off work.

"Brad!" he exclaimed when he saw me standing on the sidewalk outside his firm's office building. "Where the fuck have you been?" he cried. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"I'll tell you all about it later," I promised, "But for now we'll just tell everyone I have been suffering from amnesia!"

I told him how I couldn't get into my apartment, and he explained that when it was assumed that I was dead, the owners had re-let the apartment, but that he had put all my belongings in storage in the basement of his apartment building, that I could stay with him for now.

That first evening back, I luxuriated in a long hot shower with plenty of soap, and a meal Jay cooked up of good old spaghetti and meal sauce and a bottle of white wine. When the wine loosened my tongue up a bit, I told Jay my Sasquatch story, but edited it rather drastically at first. I left out the sex parts. I wasn't sure how he would take them. I also a insisted that he keep this all to himself, that my claim of amnesia was all anyone else need to know. He agreed.

Jay, of course, was astonished and rather skeptical about my tale. He was non-stop in asking me further questions, but eventually I convinced him to wait until I was ready to tell him the full story. I was, of course, trying to protect my friends the Gana, and in particular my furry lover Toola. I knew what would become of them if exposed to the scrutiny of the modern world. The very idea frightened me.

Although Jay and I slept together that night, and for the many nights that followed, and the sex was great, as it always had been with Jay, it just wasn't as good as with Toola. I missed having him knotted in me. I tried to convince Jay to stay inside me after he had come, but his cock always slipped out as soon as he slept and he moved.

Before we dozed off to sleep, Jay told me, "You'd better go see the police tomorrow. They've been looking for you. There was a massive search for you when you disappeared." I promised that I would do so, but I already knew what that would entail — more lies!

Before Jay left for work the next morning, we went downstairs and rummaged through my belongings which he had saved from my basement suite. I found my wallet with close to $100 in cash, all my ID cards, and my Debit card and Visa card. Jay had not cancelled any of my cards or accounts because I was not legally dead. All my clothes were there, too, and Jay agreed that I could stay with him as long as I needed to or wanted to.

I took a taxi to the Vancouver Police Department headquarters the next morning and announced to the youngish constable at the front desk, "I'm believe you have been looking for me. I'm Brad Simmons, and I believe I am listed as missing." My face and description were staring back at me from a Missing Person poster on the office pin-up board. It took a while for my name to sink in, before he realized who I was.

"Stay right there!" he ordered and went scuttling off to find someone who was working on my case. He returned a few moments later with an older detective who ushered me into his office. And he was just the first of a string of Vancouver City Police, RCMP detectives, Search and Rescue officers, and other assorted investigators who came to question me.

I told them all basically the same story: That I had no idea what had happened to me. That I had come to my senses outside Pemberton, not far from where I first went into the bush over two months before. I had no idea where I had been or what I had done in the intervening time. I had amnesia.

In the days that followed a series different investigators asked me the same questions again and again. I stuck to my story. Of course, the newspapers got hold of the story, and they were constantly hounding me. I saw headlines like "Lost Hiker Found Alive after Two Months" and "Amnesia Victim Survives Two Months Lost in Forest."

After a few weeks it began to die down, and I could resume a nice placid life, but I guess Jay got drunk at a party one night and told someone I had been kidnapped by a Sasquatch, and somehow that got into the tabloids, and all the trash newspapers were pounding on my door asking for details, and also stirring up the interests of the police again. I denied everything, and said Jay had misunderstood me when I had just jokingly speculated that maybe I had been taken by Bigfoot! Although I would say nothing more, for weeks the tabloids dug up every old Bigfoot story they could, including the one below which, fiction or not, closely echoed my own tale.

I was really pissed off at Jay and made him sleep on the sofa in his own apartment for a couple of nights!

As I said no more about it to the press or to the police, again the furor died away. Life went back to normal. Even the private school I had worked for hired me back when they reopened short of staff after COVID restrictions. I continued to live with Jay, and we had sex on a regular basis, but I often thought about my months in the forests with my hairy lover. I imagined him striding through the moonlit timbers with the tip of his long red penis poking out of its cocksheath! To be honest, I longed to have that long red penis inside me once more!

It was only after all the hullabaloo was long behind me that I decided to find out a little more about my friends, the Sasquatch, the Gana. I still had the grass bracelet that Ooda had given me. I had stowed it away safely in a Tupperware container the first night Jay had brought me to his apartment. Now I brought it out again. I had a sometime friend-with-benefits who worked in one of the several DNA labs around Vancouver. I visited Dave, the DNA analyst, at his home and implored him to do a special, secret, private DNA analysis for me. I did him several sexual favours to get his consent. He took a swab from me to count out my DNA on the bracelet, and I left the bracelet in its container with him.

It was three week before Dave phoned me and told me to come to his lab where he worked. He sounded excited. I had expected he would be. When I arrived, Dave took me into his work area. "Where did you get this?" he demanded. "It's amazing!"

I told him that I couldn't and wouldn't tell him, that he just had to accept my assurances that it was real.

"But this in something completely new!" he said. "We have never seen DNA quite like this before. It's an entirely new species of mankind!

He modified his statement: "Well, not exactly new, more like very very old species of mankind, but new to me!"

I leapt at his words. "Mankind?" I queried. "It is human?"

"Yes," he insisted, "Quite human, but maybe with some small differences to modern man. Maybe a little more close to the apes than you and I, but definitely human. The nearest DNA I've seen to this is the Hairy Ainu tribe of northern Japan. Look here!"

He took me to a computer screen and pointed to a massive string of figures which filled the screen. They meant nothing to me.

"This string here would indicated that the female is rather tall," he said excitedly. "And down here indicates that she is very hairy. And she is probably about 50 years old. Aren't you going to tell me where you got it?"

"Before I tell you more," I told him, "you need to remember your promises and I must ask you to promise even more!" I then made him swear to secrecy and to keep all the information I gave him to himself alone until one day I might free him to tell the world, but that was very unlikely. Later, when I had given him the basic story of my adventure, without the sex, he agreed with me. The Gana must be protected by complete secrecy. He would keep the DNA files locked securely away.

But at least I knew now that I had been having sex with another human – a slightly different human, but a human none-the-less – and not with some animal creature.

The coming of winter brought more lock-downs and mask mandates, and the school switched to virtual learning for while, only going back to live classes near the end of the school year. It was only then, when I was free of school and free of other obligations, did I tell Jay the full story of my missing weeks.

I made him swear to complete secrecy before I told him anything more, but then one night after sex I filled him in. He was fascinated by my tales of being stalked, horrified by the the thought of being raped by the creature, shocked that I actually enjoyed it, and disgusted that I had also fucked the beast. But as I filled him in, and explained and described in detail my adventure, and how Dave had proved that the Gana were actually human, he became more and more accepting. When I explained my concerns for the Gana if my true story ever got out, he understood. He also understood and accepted that I had had consensual sex with Toola, that I truly thought of him as just another human, albeit quite different to the average man.

When I told Jay a few days later that I was going to go back to where I first saw Toola and try to find him again, he was a little worried. He thought that I might get lost and never return, but I assured him that if I didn't find Toola within ten days, I would come right back. If I did find him, I would stay for just July and August and be back by September. He promised not to send search parties out for me this time.

And so I set out once more in a vain attempt to rediscover the "lost tribe" of the Sasquatch, the Gana. Again, I hitched to Pemberton, and walked from there to the point where I had entered the forests over a year before. Again I followed the same trail as I had the previous time, hoping to climb a mountain, but finding something far more interesting and exciting. Again, I slept in a new sleeping bag for a first night, and then trudged another day. I was now in the area where I had first encountered Toola.

It was at this point I began calling "Toola! Toola!" every half hour or so, in the hope that he or one of the other Ganas might hear me. When I crawled into my sleeping bag this second night, I was half-hoping that I would again be woken by a hairy beast wanting to fuck me.

"My God, I am a sicko!" I thought to myself as I drifted off. But my sleep was not interrupted that night.

In the morning, I headed directly east, the direction I knew Toola had carried me. He had carried me about half a day, but it took me until late afternoon to cover the same ground and reach the small valley with the falling-down cabin, the sheltering cliffs, and the mountain stream. Here I set up camp in the very spot Toola and I had slept – and fucked – for five nights in the thicket of berry bushes.

As I had done all day, I continued to call, "Toola! Toola!" every now and then. But no answer came! This was already my third night. I figured I could stay here only four nights. I didn't even consider heading further back into the mountains, because I had no idea what directions the Gana had taken with me before.

And so I passed those days alone, calling "Toola! Toola!" in vain, getting only echoes in return. I supplemented my dried rations and canned spam with berries and mushrooms as I had done on my previous visit, but I had only brought supplies for ten days. I would have to return home soon.

It was with a heavy heart that I packed my knapsack on the eighth morning since I had set out. It was time to head home and forget the Gana. But I would never forget Toola! It was with this thought in mind that I gave one last cry of "Toola! Toola!"

From the depths of the forest, just across the stream, I heard a deep throaty reply: "Brahda! Brahda!"

My heart leapt, and I called again, "Toola! Toola!" And then he stepped from the cover of the forest. There he was, just across the stream. We both gave cries of joy, and he strode across the space between us. He swept me and my backpack up into his arms and carried me back to the thicket that had been our temporary nest last year.

When he deposited me in the little grove, I saw that his penis was already stiffening well out of its sheath. Mine too, was hard. I practically tore off my clothes, and we lay down together in the grassy dell. It did not take long for his red, shiny penis to find my hole, and soon he was slipping inside me once more. His cock found places inside me that Jay could never hope to reach, and I felt a flood of satisfaction.

Even though I knew that we belonged in different world, that we could never live together, I also knew that I would come back to him as my secret summer lover again and again.

Toola fucked my ass for quite a while, but I sensed that he was trying to not cum, to not set off the balloon which would lock us together for ages. We would have all summer for that! Instead, he pulled out of me after about fifteen minutes, leaving me feeling a little empty, but he knelt on hands and knees beside me, and grinned his big, ugly grin. I knew what he wanted, and gathering some of the pre-cum that was oozing from his dick glands, I spread it on my own dick, knelt behind him, and shoved my six inch dick all the way into him.

"Hoo, hoo!" he cried. "Trok hoo!"

And so began the first day of my first summer vacation with my furry lover!

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