The second installment of my first attempt at a story and my first attempt at writing a sex scene. I hope somebody likes it...
*
The Following day.......
The three of them climbed out of the taxi in front of the cottage. It was one of a terrace of three in the yard of the old Distillery. When they'd finally made it down to the visitor centre, Phil had begged the use of their phone, explaining that one of them had a sprained ankle and none of them was carrying a mobile.
"So where are your phones anyway?" asked Phil as they waited. "Unless I've met the only two ladies under fifty that don't own them?"
"I left mine on charge." explained Alison.
"And I left mine in my bag, because Ali never goes anywhere without hers." Added Nic. Silly really, but we were expecting to be back before dark....
"Well - you are back before dark, quipped Phil. "Just not on the same day you set off. Doesn't matter. You survived your first epic - Now you've got a story to tell..."
Inside, the girls sprawled on the couch. Phil dropped his pack and collapsed into an armchair.
"Ok said Nic - Phil takes first shower, and Ali and me go second, just in case I need some help. But first, there's beer in the fridge and I think we should drink to our knight in shining armour!" Nobody objected...
Later, with the sound of running water coming from upstairs, the girls discussed their guest. On the way down they'd invited him to spend the night at theirs. Insisting that the least they could do was cook him a meal, and only the most wretched ingrate would decline such an offer from two such charming young ladies. Phil had accepted with a grin and a theatrical bow.
"So tell me about the diary Ali." - What did you mean, a suicide note, anyway?"
"Well, he doesn't actually use the word, but it reads like he's going under and he can't see it. Look, he was with this girl, she had two kids, but the father had buggered off. They were together eight years, the kids called him Dad, He was there for the birth of the youngest. Then she dumped him and moved away. He misses them. I think he misses her too, but he talks about the kids like they died. Anyway, seems like when it gets too much, he heads to the mountains and climbs on his own. I'm serious Nic. He's trying to kill himself. He's playing Russian roulette with gravity!"
"You know, if that's true, then you're not the person to help him. Seriously, do you think you can shag him back to life?"
"Well - I'm not one to boast.... But that's not what I meant. Look. Up there we were freezing to death and he helped us. I've read his story and he needs help too. All I'm going to do is give him the chance to unburden himself - fill him with booze and get him talking. Just like lancing a boil. And if I send him away with a happy memory or two, where's the harm in that? I feel like Florence Nightingale"
"I'm confused - Sympathy fuck? Or are you going to shag him for saving you?"
"Neither - I'm going to shag him for the same reason I was going to shag Mark. I'm horny; Climbing is sexy - and I fancy him - You want to know something? I wanted to give him a life-affirming fuck before we even got to the tent last night. Once we were on flat ground and I could believe we weren't going to die, I was ready to throw him to the ground and mount him then and there - And so were you, don't even think about denying it..."
"OK then, I won't." Smiled Nic'. "And anyway, there comes a time when every woman has to face up to her deepest, darkest fantasies, and sleep with a guy old enough to be her Dad."
"And we're just the girls to do it!" Giggled Ali....
***************
By the time I'd showered the girls had decided that the larder was insufficiently stocked for the meal they had in mind. So after getting showered and changed, Alison prepared to go out for supplies as Nicola wrote out a list. I offered to help, but Nicola declined on Alison's behalf, saying she had a job for me here. It's possible a look passed between them. I have to say I'm pretty poor at spotting girl signals, but I definitely got a sense of something going on beneath the surface. Alison closed the door behind her and Nicola sent me to the fridge for two more beers. Her ankle still hurt her, she'd unwrapped it for the shower and now, sitting opposite I could see the angry, purple skin, the colour of thunderclouds.
"Want me to bandage that again?" I asked
"Not just yet, but Will you give me a backrub? My shoulders are killing me from going downhill on my hands and my bum yesterday."
I grinned. Why pretend I wasn't going to enjoy it?
"Do Popes shit in the Vatican? You got any oil?"
"Coconut?"
"That'll do fine."
There was a time, a couple of relationships ago, when I'd actually been rather good at this. If I hadn't forgotten it all, Nicola was in for a treat. I smiled, remembering. Nic smiled back.
Half an hour later the oil bottle was standing in a jug full of boiling water and the room heat was turned up full. I laid two towels on the bed and invited Nicola to make herself comfortable. I turned away, which must have amused her, because she asked "How do you want me?" and when I turned, she was standing there naked, her head cocked to one side, watching me, with a knowing grin.
I can't really write about the events that followed without saying something at least, to describe Nicola, and having put it off until the last possible moment, I'll pause the story here and try to paint a picture of the naked girl with the amused grin who was standing in front of me.
If I had to pick a template for this description, I'd pick "Buxom Wench". She was a curvy girl, with shoulder length, curly, dirty blonde hair that looked like it pretty much did it's own thing. Maybe that's my projection of its owner's personality. Anyway her hair framed a face that wasn't conventionally pretty. No cute button nose or gleaming, even teeth, but her eyes...
It wasn't the shape of them that I remember, it was the Look. Her eyes reached out and grabbed me, and as she grinned that knowing, confident grin, everything about her said; "This is me. I like it and I'm not particularly fussed if you don't."
As for the rest of her, well she was a big girl. Solidly built. Not fat, plump or particularly overweight, there was just more of her. I guess she was a couple of inches shorter than me, which put her at about 5'6". Wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and flaring out sharply to wide hips and muscular legs. If I was going to guess at a dress size then I'd be guessing twelve, possibly fourteen, but there didn't look to be much spare flesh. To put it another, simpler way; she was perfectly proportioned and pretty fucking hot.
She also had boobs. I have to confess here that I'm rubbish at guessing a girls cup size. I can measure a girl for a bra if I have to, [different story] but I don't have the knack of looking and saying "D cup", like some people seem to be able to.
Nicola's boobs. Firm. Full. Round. About a handful and a half. I imagined them swaying when she moved. Dark, puckered centres, Nipples very much in evidence. Smaller than the tip of my little finger, but bigger than a pencil eraser. Perfect for gently tugging with the teeth.....
She had a bush too. A neatly trimmed triangle. She was a natural blonde. And that is Nicola's body, as well as I can describe it...
Back to the present. How did I want her? she'd asked. I could answer that question in several ways...
"Face down in the middle of the bed, arms by your sides. Stick a pillow under your chest so's your head can hang straight down."
"Comfortable?" "Then we'll begin..."
I took the oil bottle, uncapped it, and with my finger as a stopper, drizzled the warm oil down her spine, and in zigzags across her back. I spread it over her with broad strokes until her back was covered. Then, with my hands wide, thumbs an inch apart, I ran them from the small of her back to her shoulders, thumbs either side of her spine, and then outwards and down her sides in a great circle. Lightly at first, then after half a dozen strokes, with increasing pressure, and then lightly again.
"Mmmmmmm. That's nice...."
I moved up the bed, poured a few drops of oil into my hand and rubbed my palms briskly together until the heat built up, then cupped her neck, letting the warmth soak in to her muscles. Nic moaned, and again when I repeated it, and again... I placed my hands on her shoulders and worked her neck muscles with my thumbs, then her shoulders. She sighed as I ran my hands down her arm, opening out the shoulder joint. She groaned as I put her forearm in the small of her back and worked around her shoulder blade. She gave a long, drawn out "Mmmmmmmmmm" as I spread my fingers and walked my hands down her spine.....
It wasn't hard to tell when she particularly liked something. The small of her back seemed to be incredibly sensitive, so naturally I spent a long time there. Then probably longer than I needed to on her bum, but I could tell she didn't mind. As I kneaded her glutes, the rhythm of her breathing faltered and her hips moved of their own accord. I oiled up her legs, and as I did so, lightly drew figure eights on the back of her knee. She inhaled sharply. Then I was kneading the muscles of her thigh, then her calf, before running my hands from her ankle to the top of her leg. Her scent was in my nostrils and her breathing was loud and uneven. I smiled. Obviously I hadn't completely forgotten....