During my early years I was a puny kid and inevitably badly teased and bullied until a compassionate teacher became my mentor and gave me invaluable advice. "The answer can only be in your own hands," he said, "- You've got to get yourself fit enough to fight back and you must stick to your studies to ensure that you're smarter than they are." With great effort, I did what he said to the good effect that in my last two years at school I was the school running champion at both 800 metres and the mile. That ensured I was generally popular, attracting my share of girls but, but although being quite lean and muscular, I didn't grow tall than 5' 8". After sixth form I my exam results enabled me to start training to be a teacher.
My running success had suggested that I might have a real talent for running so while at training college I joined the local athletics club. The first day there I saw Patricia and was instantly enamoured by her. Females who are into sports often tend to be of the plainer variety but Pat was the exception that proved the rule -- she was absolutely gorgeous, both figure and face. After a couple of weeks we started chatting and it seemed we had a natural rapport. Her main event was the long jump but she was also in the 200 metres relay team. She definitely liked me but the snag was that she was in a relationship with the hammer thrower -- a rather large but clumsy looking guy called Alex. However all was not lost.
One day, another girl who had guessed that I liked Pat told me not to give up hope saying, "We had a big celebration booze-up a couple of months ago and Pat managed to finish up in bed with Alex. Well she's not a girl for one night stands so she keeps going out with him to make it respectable -- I give it two more months at the most."
Unfortunately, a few weeks later I had a hamstrung injury and by the time I got back to the club, Pat was an established item with Frank, one of the black sprinters. For the next year I continued to worship from afar but it was a constant torment to see her swollen lips, the hickies on her neck and general well fucked look. Even so I still sought out her company and we continued our intimate friendly conversations. Then one glorious day I found her crying. She explained, "I've just found out that Frank's been screwing both Lena and Sue and God knows how many others -- the cheating bastard." I put my arms round her to console her and the next moment we were kissing passionately.
Within a month we were sharing a flat and after four years were still together. By then both of us were qualified teachers but working at different schools. We were effectively married but, just as I didn't need to believe in a God to live a decent life, it didn't take a piece of paper to make me intend a lifelong fidelity to Pat. Pat felt roughly the same but early on she warned, "My folks are happy enough about us living together but if you get me pregnant they'll expect us to make it legal."
Up to that four year mark we'd been content with just each other but Pat had started looking in every pram we passed and I'll admit that the thought of starting a family was no longer anathema to me. In a non-specific discussion we decided that we were financially secure enough to consider starting a baby but that it was important to have a fabulous holiday first, while we still could. The net result of that evening was that we researched and booked a long holiday in Canada for a large part of the long summer break. The first week we were going to spend sightseeing in Vancouver but, as we both liked walking, the second week was to be spent hiking through the British Columbian wilderness.
To carry enough food for a full week meant we had to be very economical with everything else. Essentials were a tent, two sleeping bags, a means of cooking, a torch and two lightweight rainproof capes but, as we were unlikely to meet others our clothing requirements were cut to the bone. We each wore a hat (to protect from the sun) and shorts but where mine were standard almost knee length type Pat wore the very short jogging variety. Neither of us bothered with underwear. On the upper half we both wore cut-away T-shirts (to prevent chaffing from the back pack straps) and Pat had a brief bra designed more for support than modesty. It's possible that our spare pairs of socks weighed more than all the other clothing combined.
This week was intended as a sexual adventure where we could apply the maxim 'anywhere, any time' -- ad lib al fresco sex, free from the fear of prying eyes. Unfortunately that isn't how the first two days turned out. I think we had set over ambitious targets for a days trek, we were both captivated by the scenery which meant dawdling and then trying to catch up - and I suspect that neither of us were quite as fit as we thought. The result was that, at the end of both days, by the time we had put up the tent and eaten we were totally exhausted, wanting nothing more than sleep. We did lie close and fondle but neither of us had the energy for actual sex. Starting the third day I told Pat that I thought we should take it easy. Pat quickly agreed. "If we do two hours this morning and just one after lunch that will leave the rest of the afternoon free for messing about," she suggested with a naughty smile.
We eventually stopped on the lip of a narrow ravine but with thoughts of carnal pleasures ahead had decided to only pause long enough for a warm drink. Pat was brewing up while I lay on my back studying a bird high in the sky when suddenly a male voice called, "Put another one in the pot while you're at it -- I'll be across there in a few minutes." I quickly sat up to see what looked like a large naked man with an enormous back pack, already scrambling quickly down the far side of the ravine. Interested, I moved to where I could watch the progress of this unexpected intruder and found myself rather perturbed by the obvious great size of the man. Here was I with a very attractive scantily dressed female and we were about to be joined by a male far larger than I, when there was unlikely to be another living soul within miles in any direction. I felt very vulnerable and my long gone feelings of inferiority came rushing back. Pat was sitting waiting with her knees drawn up under her chin. "For Christ's sake make yourself decent," I hissed, "Can't you pull those bloody shorts down at the front?"
"I see -- and leave my bum hanging out at the back," she said tartly.
Actually my feeling of trepidation rapidly dissipated when a happily grinning, undoubtedly handsome but good natured face moved into view above the edge of the ravine. Joining us he said, "The name's Bret and I'm an Aussie," but instead of identifying us Pat stood gazing up at him a look of admiration on her face. "Just how tall are you?" she asked in wonder.
From his resigned smile I guessed he must have fielded the same question hundreds of times before. "I was just over six feet six when I was nineteen but I haven't been measured since," he told her.
It wasn't just his height but also the physique that was impressive. Imagine Conan the barbarian -- well although somewhat less heavily muscled, Bret had the same perfect muscular definition. He could have modelled for the famous Greek statue of Apollo except for one detail - Greek statuary always portrays male figures with miniscule sexual equipment where Bret's straining pouch had to be the extra extra large variety. On his back he carried a pack that looked heavier than Pat's and mine combined.
Bret certainly wasn't shy when talking about himself and during the conversation, while drinking tea, he revealed that he was a physicist working on aspects of quantum theory. Now I think of myself as intelligent with a good grasp of scientific principles but just the word 'quantum' makes my brain go to mush. Bret said that he liked a challenge and was using his annual break to spend a whole month in isolation. He'd been dropped by helicopter and would be re-supplied every week at the drop location. From that central position he was spending a week exploring in each of the four cardinal directions and has set himself a different objective to accomplish in each.
At the end of the tea break Bret mentioned that as his planned route paralleled ours for the rest of the day, he wondered if we would we mind if he tagged along with us. At that point I had no objection but it was Pat who jumped in quickly to say we'd be glad of his company. He'd said 'tag along' but right from the start, with his long legs, he strode on ahead and in places Pat actually ran to keep up with him. This meant that in those places where she needed a leg up or a bit of help it was Bret not me who was always in position to assist. That was irritating enough but worse were those slight hazards where I knew Pat would have acted independent and ignored my proffered hand, because with him she behaved completely out of character, playing the helpless female and throwing him smiles of girlish gratitude.
The final straw came when our path was blocked by a seven foot high block of smooth granite with a crack down the middle. Bret simply ran forward, somehow vaulted easily up then turned round to reach down with one hand and effortlessly pull Pat up to his level. The hackneyed words 'me Tarzan -- you Jane' summed up the image. There was no help for me and by the time I'd managed to laboriously negotiate the hazzard, the pair of them were forty to fifty yards up the trail. I joined them at the top of the slope where Pat moved a few paces back to meet me and announce, "Bret says we ought to camp here." Looking round I saw it was indeed a perfect spot -- level ground, a decent stream about 100 feet down the slope and a small stand of trees over to the left. What niggled was that for our first two days it was I who had decided where to stop for the night. The tents were erected about twenty feet apart and with that task completed I set off to the trees to gather wood for the fire. Heading back, my arms filled with dead branches I saw that they were standing facing each other, very close but not touching and with body postures indicating some kind of tension between them. It was only for an instant and then they both laughed and moved apart.
A few minutes later our large companion set off down to the stream to get water so finally left alone with Pat I asked, "What was all that about between you and Bret a moment ago, both of you seemed pretty tense?"
"Nothing much."
"Well it didn't look like nothing from where I was standing."
Pat hesitated for a moment but then admitted, "If you really want to know, Bret told me that I was absolutely gorgeous and asked if I realised how much he wanted to make love to me."
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything -- I just shook my head but then he said, 'Can you deny that you'd like that just as much as me?'"
"Did you deny it?"
Pat shook her head. "I didn't answer that at all but instead asked him, 'What about my husband?' - I thought pretending we were married might make him back off but it didn't. He just laughed and said, 'Your husband doesn't necessarily need to know'. I laughed too and said, 'And just how do you propose to accomplish that?' 'A drop of something in his bedtime cocoa to make him sleep a bit more soundly should to the trick,' he said grinning but I told him, 'I'm certainly not going to drug my hubby just for a chance to have sex with you'. Then we both laughed. I'm sure he hadn't meant it seriously and it passed everything off humorously."
