Nathaniel Feldmann

The Climb

A sunny gay erotic story – the perfect escape to travel away from responsibilities and live a wild fantasy for a day.

Friday

A bright summer morning at the border with Germany. The bus pulled into the parking lot of the village train station. The trees whistled in the breeze as everyone threw their weekend bags into the undercarriage. I traveled on my own, and by the looks of it, so did everyone else, all of us signed up for a weekend rock climbing camp. I kept to myself, too nervous to extend a friendly hand to any stranger.

The joy of working for a millennial startup was the four-day workweek. My company incentivized personal growth experiences, and weekend getaways. I thought I’d try something thrilling. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

We drove along potato fields and pasture and I found this country beautiful for once. The sun washed over me. The big blue sky opened and we were swallowed whole. I didn’t listen to the gabbing passengers, the multitude of tongues mixing together, everyone else making quick friends. I held out hope I wouldn’t be the youngest. I prayed for someone hot to flirt with once we got to camp.

We turned onto a winding gravel road that ran through a thick wood, traveling deeper and deeper into nowhere. The cheap to-go coffee I drank on the train bubbled in my stomach, a small price for getting up at the crack of dawn and leaving without an appetite. I wondered if we’d ever arrive.

The bus halted at the entrance of a village filled with log cabins and linen tents. At the very center of the settlement, a wooden cathedral rose high into the sky, KLIMSTAD was spelled out in bold red letters on the front.

“The Big House!” a couple behind me said in unison, awe in their voices as if this was a pilgrimage they’ve waited a lifetime to make.

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