To Be Fran

To get a feel for where this is coming from, I recommend Chapter 1 be read first.

As the week went by I found myself thinking more and more about the weekend ahead. Having got approval from my parents, and a note written to excuse me from afternoon lessons on Friday I began to realise that what I was doing was real. A whole weekend, away from family, away from Karl, with my best buddy and our two best mates, who just happened to be going out together. Synchronicity!

I’d got everything ready, come Friday, for a whole weekend in the Welsh hills, including clothing to cope with all the vagaries of weather those mountains could throw at anyone, and normally that meant everything. Paul and Tim had the canvas, and Nessie and I had thrown together the basics of the dried food packs and snacks that would sustain us.

Friday afternoon came, and Paul drove round to pick me up in his Escort, only a basic little Ford but he was proud of it, and it was transport, so none of us were complaining. We kicked off out of town and headed to North Wales, with a sound track of Def Leppard, Queen, Human League and Madness, just for variety, making small talk as we went, with Paul and Tim in the front, and Nessie and I hogging the back seat, complete with snacks and girlie comments on the guys’ singing ability!

We drove through to Welshpool, where we stopped for a last-minute chocolate top-up, including coffee, dried milk and sugar for the hot drinks we expected to make in the hills where there was no other source. Another hour or so saw us at Bontddu, a small village on the Barmouth road, where Paul knew people who ran a campsite.

After Paul had introduced us at the site we spent 20 minutes putting up our small two-man tents, keeping our packs in Paul’s car, and then left the whole lot on the site to walk to the village pub to get a decent meal before our early-morning start.

Being North Wales, the pub was a conservative sort of place, and two English girls caused a bit of a stir, but as we were with men, it wasn’t too much of a problem. We managed to corner a table at the back of the saloon bar, the better of the two, and Tim ordered beer all round, a welcome break from the poor wine I usually had at home. I never had the heart to tell my father that Liebfraumilch was perhaps invented purely to annoy visitors to Germany.

Tim and Paul quickly got the maps out and talked Nessie and I through our itinerary for Saturday/Sunday, a walk up through two of the larger peaks in the area, Rhinog Fach and Rhinog Fawr. It was a challenging schedule, over only around 18 miles, but the important part was the ascent and descent up to 750m twice over steep, loose, rocky terrain.

“What does Rhinog mean”, I asked Tim, who I knew was really familiar with the area.

I sensed it was the wrong question when I realised half the bar had shut up to listen to Tim’s response.

“It’s both a name and a piece of Welsh history, Frank”, he replied. “The Rhinog’s were both giants back at the dawn of the age of humankind in the area. Remember Cader Idris, the mountain just south of here?”

I nodded agreement. Everyone had heard of ‘the Chair of Idris’, another local giant. Those who spent the night night there either woke up mad, as poets, or never woke up at all.

Tim continued “It’s a little known fact, but the Rhinogs were brothers, and they fought to a standstill over the right to woo the Moon, the most complete female giant in the universe. Eventually their continual warring took them here, to the West coast of the UK where the Moon flees each night. They disturbed Idris so much with their fighting that for his own peace he turned them both to stone, here, where they still stand today. Legend has it that even now their yearning for the love that neither can have manifests itself, drawing down shooting stars toward the moon on clear nights.”

I was going to laugh, then realised that the locals were hanging on Tim’s every word. He, only an Englishman, had them wrapt in his telling of the story.

“Surely it’s only a myth!” I said. There was a sharp intake of breath from the landlord.

“Frank”, Tim replied “Who are we to say what is myth and what is history. After all, how does history start, but with the telling of the story?” There was a chuckle from the men at the bar, who obviously approved of Tim’s dramatic tale.

After a couple of rounds, Tim and Paul disappeared to the toilets, leaving Nessie and I together.

“Kate”, Nessie started “We were originally coming on this trip with Anne, but now you’re here. As it was, Paul and Tim were tenting, and I was sharing with Anne. Now you’re here, and from what we’ve spoken about last week, Paul and I were really hoping that we could tent together while you and Tim had some quality time to talk about some necessary things?”

My heart leapt. Obviously Paul and Tim were having the same conversation in the Gents, and I couldn’t help but show my eagerness. “Yes, Nessie, I’d love that, and I think Tim would say the same” was all I could come out with, when what I meant to say was “thank you thank you thank you!”

When the guys reappeared, Tim sat next to me, close on the bench seat we had. “Are you okay with this?” he asked.

“Tim, I’d be a fool if I said I wasn’t” I replied. “We’ll be giving Nessie and Paul some good time together, and we get on well enough to cope?” I sensed he was a little disappointed with my non-committal response.

As a non-verbal signal I nudged sideways so our thighs were touching, and in amongst the small talk, a chicken-and-chips meal and three more beers, found it was closing time.

Our walk back to the campsite was only ten minutes, but I found the fresh air really hit me, and as I was cleaning my teeth in the shower block next to Nessie I realised I was just bit drunk. We’d both used the shower block to get changed into sleepwear, meaning I was dressed in just my undies and a large T-shirt that would double as a warm undergarment if the weather turned bad. From the forecast it wouldn’t be necessary, as a massive anticyclone was sat over the UK, with little movement, holding daytime temperatures up to 28 degrees, dropping only as far as 17 during the night.

“Are you OK with the sleeping arrangements” Nessie asked, a sly smile on her face.

I spat toothpaste out as tried to stay upright and look mature. “Sure, we’re looking forward to it” I managed to stammer back.

As we walked back we both saw ths hooting star com overhead, from over the summit of the Rhinog mountains toward the moon.

"Wish?" Nessie said.

I kept it to myself, hoping it would come true; "I wish this weekend would last forever, just me, Tim and my two best friends"

Getting to the tent I was sharing with Tim, right next to Paul and Nessie, we whispered ‘goodnight’, or ‘nostar’ as the Welsh would have it, and disappeared in through the flaps, leaving boots under our flysheets.

In our tent I realised Tim was already lying down, in boxers and T-shirt on his sleeping bag. In the weak light from the torch I carried he grinned ruefully. “Too hot to get into a three season hollowfill sleeping bag” he replied to my unspoken question.

“Yeah, I can see that” I said. “Tim, I’m just a bit drunk right now, so can we just hold each other?”

I lay down, letting him spoon me from behind, using his arm as my pillow. As I turned out the torch, leaving the light from the almost full moon casting a ghostly glow, I couldn’t help but think of the poor Rhinog brothers.

Poor Tim, I thought to myself as I snuggled into his arm and made maximum contact with his body behind me, he puts up with so much.

I had no idea of the time that passed before a sharp gasp from Nessie dragged me up from deep sleep to an almost wakeful state. A low comment from Paul, followed by a quick giggle, made me realise they were making out, and in my drunk state I almost wished I was there.

A quiet whisper from Tim behind me drew my attention.

“They’re going for it”.

I think I was still dreaming of the beautiful female moon, and how the Rhinogs had fought over her, and my brain was telling me that Tim was talking about them, not our camping partners, and the arousal went straight through. It may have been the beer, it may have been the moon phase, or the shooting star, but all I know now is that in that moment, I was one horny little girl.

There was a soft moan from the next tent, and a slurpy noise, which told me Nessie was being kissed by Paul, echoed by Tim’s comment to the same effect.

“They’re really kissing.” He whispered, in a voice right on the edge of my hearing, that I knew carried no further than my ear.

I was turned on, both by Tim’s quiet commentary and the supporting vocals from the next tent, and I quietly and slowly slipped a hand between my legs, trying not to let Tim know what I was doing.

My middle finger found my clit through my knickers quickly, and I started to rub gently, just enough to keep me on edge, not enough to send me over it, as I listened to Paul, Nessie and Tim.

As Nessie moaned, and uttered a quiet agreement Tim was whispering: “He’s feeling her tits”, and I found my own nipples hardening in sympathy as I imagined my friend Paul caressing Nessie’s large breasts and nipples.

As Paul sighed, Tim whispered: ‘She’s holding him”, and my finger and thumb clenched on my clit as I imagined her hand around his cock, helping him toward full erection.

I was half aware that Tim’s free hand had started caressing my side, going slowly from hip to shoulder, and back.

A fabric noise from next door, followed by an urgent “please” from Nessie told the story, but in case I missed it there was Tim’s voice in my ear again. “He’s on top of her now, and they’re making love”. I could imagine Paul pumping in and out of Nessie, and the heat from my pussy grew round my hand.

Suddenly I was aware of Tim’s hardness pressing into the small of my back. I have no idea how long he’d been like that, but looking back it must have been almost the whole time, though I was so wrapped up in myself I hadn’t noticed.

His free hand that had been caressing me suddenly slipped down to cover mine over my sex.

“Can we?” he whispered, over the sounds of urgent lovemaking next door.

Slowly and quietly, so as not to disturb Paul and Nessie, I parted my legs, and as my unspoken answer to his question I used my free hand to push my undies down, grasp his cock and pull it into where I needed it most. He slid inside easily, as I was already really well lubricated thanks to my own ministrations, and I was surprised and pleased to find a good sized, but most of all thick cock up my cunt.

From behind, Tim settled into a slow rhythm, almost a counterpoint to the rapid sounds from the next tent, where we could both hear Paul and Nessie slapping together in their sexual joining. Tim’s steady strokes hit me as Karl never had, and as he took me from behind the head of his penis stroked my G-spot on each pass, in and out, dragging me slowly up from almost sleep into full orgasm in quick time. Amazingly, we were fucking silently, neither of us making any noise, neither vocally nor with our body movements.

As Nessie was obliviously moaning her own climax next door, and we heard Paul’s grunts as he unloaded deep inside her, Tim too plunged to his deepest within my pussy and held still. I swear today that I felt his semen hitting the back of my womb, so powerful was his ejaculation, and it set me off on my own orgasmic trip. Still trying to remain unheard I found myself biting Tim’s ‘pillow’ hand that I was resting my head on, to stop me from crying out loud at the force of the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had with someone else.

With Tim softening inside me, we both fell asleep without saying another word.

As I woke in the morning I wondered if I’d dreamed the whole affair, but the teeth marks on Tim’s hand and the sticky feeling between my legs told me what had happened. I couldn’t wait till the next night, when we’d be camped miles from nowhere, just the four of us.