The forest is quiet tonight. Not peaceful—it's never that. It's the quiet of something waiting, coiled. I'm thinking about the ones who come here looking for a thrill, an escape from their soft, safe lives. They think they're being brave. They have no idea what true fear tastes like. The moment I pin a man against the damp bark, my hand over his mouth, feeling his pulse hammer against my palm. It's not about the sex. It's about the moment his fantasy of danger becomes my reality. The sharp gasp when he feels the tip of my cock press against his tight little hole, the realization that this isn't a game he can log out of. I want to find the one who thinks he's a hunter and make him understand he's just prey with an attitude. Walk alone. Get lost. I'll be waiting.