Edited by Techsan
I am aged forty-four and my wife Eve is a couple of years younger. We've been married for just over twenty years during which time we have raised two fine children, Elaine (already married) and Tom who at that time was spending his pre-university gap year backpacking in Australia. Motherhood and a contented lifestyle have caused Eve to put on a few pounds but her shape is still what many men would consider ideal with not over-overlarge but full breasts and nicely padded hips. When we first met she was slim to the point of thinness with almost non-existent tits and hips that someone once described as boyish but for all that she was a sexual dynamo. The year before the wedding and the two afterwards we couldn't leave it alone, screwing like rabbits at every opportunity and some times when it wasn't a true opportunity at all.
Things changed when the children came along. Tiredness from broken nights and the fact that I was busy career building at work meant that there was little energy left for bed time activity and by the time that situation eased there was a need to exercise amorous restraint, 'in case the kids might hear'. Eventually of course we did get back a lot of freedom but could never recapture the urgency of the early years. We still made love twice a week which I believe is exactly the national average but it is hardly earth shattering stuff. Sometimes, after the usual perfunctory half hour, I would think back nostalgically to the time when I could effortlessly carry on for hours but then metaphorically shrug my shoulders and tell myself that it's a young man's sport. For the past few years walking and gardening have replaced sex as our favourite marital hobby - I'm not knocking it because there is a great deal of contentment and companionship to be gained from both activities.
It was one of the extra hot days that we often get in early May. Eve asked if I wanted to spend the day gardening or if we should find a walk to do. I pointed out that there was little needed doing in the garden, adding that I couldn't stand the sun the way that I used to so a walk might be the better idea.
"I would like a walk too but which - we seem to have done all of them for this area. What do you think?" Eve asked.
"Close your eyes and stick a pin in the map," I suggested and in such an arbitrary way is destiny often decided.
"Feldon - that's where the pin is but I don't think there is a walk round there," she said. The name rang a bell so I got out the walker's bible and quickly found what I was looking for. "It's only fifteen miles away. As it's so close I can't understand why we haven't done it already," she was saying, still looking at the map.
"Perhaps because the write-up rather damns it with faint praise. Listen to this, 'Not a popular walk, no waterfalls, lakes, rivers or ruins but there is a large hill offering a fine view and extensive woodland'. I think we should do it - the full circuit is six miles and that's just about right for a Sunday stroll. Even if it's not very exciting, we'll be able to cross it off the list."
With that agreed, my wife went upstairs to get ready while I sorted out my hiking boots but when she came back down she was wearing a summer dress and walking shoes instead of her usual jeans and boots. "Changed your mind?" I asked.
"No. It's going to be really hot so I thought a dress might be a lot cooler and I don't think we are going to come across much mud," she explained.
I parked the car some distance beyond the small village of Feldon, on a piece of ground that seemed to have been designated for that purpose. Although we had taken coffee and biscuits we left them in the vehicle, this being little more than a stroll. On a more serious walk we generally carried refreshments with us together with simple safety equipment. Climbing over the stile we struck off at a steady pace across the fields. However, we had not done much more than a mile before I decided that in view of the heat we might have been better advised to pick a more leisurely way to pass the day and was pleased when we spotted some rabbits to observe for a few minutes. About half a mile further on the ground began to rise.
The hill slope was long and rather steep. As we made our way to the top, there was fairly thick woodland immediately to the left of the path and a broad swathe of open grassland on the right. Normally on such a climb we would have paused for a breather and more probably twice but because a bench had been placed near the summit from which to enjoy the reputedly spectacular view, we deliberately tried to reach the top in one go.
Probably due to the heat of the day, some way from our objective, I was sweating badly, had aching legs and was gasping for breath but I gritted my teeth and persevered. About twenty feet from the bench it came as a shock to realise that there was someone already up there, standing just beyond the summit. It was a tall heavily built male, wearing a T-shirt of the type with cut out sleeves and scruffy cut down jeans. He was standing with his back deliberately towards us which was in direct contrast to the friendly demeanour that seemed to be almost universal amongst people we met while walking.
I felt a prickle run up the back of my neck. There was nothing concrete to explain why but I felt that he exuded a definite sense of menace. Eve felt it too. Grabbing my hand she whispered, "Let's give the seat a miss and just carry on walking."
It was a sensible suggestion but I was physically incapable of complying. Despite my better judgement I said, "I do need to sit down and catch my breath if only for a couple of minutes," then seeing a mountain bike lying on the grass I pointed to it saying, "Look, he's just a cyclist taking a rest like us."
The two minutes extended to five, during which the stranger walked about and appeared to be doing limbering up exercises. This gave me the idea that he might be some kind of professional cyclist but then I remembered that cyclists tend to be of a much slimmer build. Although observing from the corner of my eye I was careful not to look directly at him lest this gave him excuse for aggression. Eve gave me a sharp dig in the ribs and whispered, "I don't like it at all and I think we ought to go now - he's pretending to ignore us but when he thinks we aren't looking his way, he's giving me a real going over with his eyes."
Having regained my breath and feeling distinctly uneasy myself, I was quick to trust her intuition. "Do you want to carry on past him or shall we scrap the walk and head back to the car?"
"I don't really want to do either and I don't think we have to," she said, "There is a path heading into the woods about twenty feet back down the hill. If we take that we can possibly work our way past him and rejoin the route further on and even if we can't it will be pleasant under the trees and out of direct sun."
That is what we did. Some four of five minutes later I saw the flash of fast movement in the distance through the trees along a path parallel to ours. "There goes the cyclist," I said pointing and the flood of relief as I spoke, made me realise how very tense I had been.
"We were probably imagining things - he's probably a very nice man really," my wife said grinning at me.
"I don't think so. Nice people don't act as oddly as that and I for one am very glad he has gone," I told her.
We walked light-heartedly for several minutes holding hands but then had to fall into single file as the track narrowed. The footpath passed through thick bushes that caught at our clothing and when we emerged into the open it was to find the cyclist standing with his cycle held sideways in front him of so that it completely blocked our way. It was a shock to find him there but I tried to keep any nervousness out of my voice as I asked firmly but pleasantly, "What do you want?"
He nodded towards Eve. "She knows what I want."
Automatically I glanced towards my wife to see an expression on her face that I had never seen before and I am at a loss for words to describe. Reading this as distress, anger overcame fright, so I looked back at the man who was accosting us and, making myself sound as authoritative as possible, told him, "If you don't move aside immediately you are going to be in real trouble."
This only caused him to grin nastily and say, "From where I'm standing, it seems like it's you who's in trouble mate."
Admitting that I had a real confrontation on my hands I looked at my opponent closely for the first time. For a start he was at least six inches taller than I was and a great deal heavier. His arms were fleshy but showing no real evidence of muscle, he had the start of a beer gut and his heavy thighs were covered in thick black hair. I guessed that he was in his middle thirties and could see from his face that he was a man not unused to trouble.
Assessing the situation, I saw the possibility that if I lunged forward suddenly and pushed, such a surprise attack might cause him to fall backwards and become entangled with his bicycle. This would give us at least a few seconds advantage but the problem was what to do with it. Flight was out of the question because he would certainly catch one of us and yet failure to subdue him would only exacerbate the situation. As if intercepting my train of thought Eve placed a restraining hand on my elbow and this was enough to make me abandon my plan. Instead, speaking as calmly as I could, I repeated my question, "What exactly do you want?"
"As I said, the lady knows already but as you seem to be slow on the uptake I'll spell it out for you," he said with a smirk. "I want to fuck your wife - or to put it another way, I'm going to fuck your wife."
I think that it is automatic in times of crisis to look around for signs of support but this only made him laugh out loud. "There's nobody to help you, mate. In fact I don't think there is another person for miles. If there was do you think I'd dare pull a stunt like this?"
"Do you expect me to just stand by and let you do it?"
