Sod's Law - Cover

Sod's Law

Copyright© 2017 by Always Raining

Chapter 14

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 14 - David meets Helen. There is instant rapport. What could go wrong? Sod's law says if it can go wrong it will go wrong, probably catastrophically. Can they ever beat Sod at his evil game? This is a long, slow meandering story, you have been warned.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Fiction   Slow  

Saturday 26th October 1985

I found a hotel in the countryside a few miles south of Conwy and booked for the week, to leave on Friday morning. That evening we joined the River House residents for dinner, which was a spicy vegetable concoction by Imogen.

Helen was feted and hugged and kissed as a long lost prodigal daughter or sister, and the girls were allowed to scream at the sight of her engagement ring, now back in place.

Next morning, Saturday, we were off in my car headed for Cymru (pronounced Cumry). Thankfully, since it was the end of October, there was little holiday traffic, and the journey, once the motorway was completed, was peaceful and relaxed, Helen exclaiming over the reds, oranges and yellows of the autumn trees under a blue sky.

Our room had a balcony with enough room for two chairs, provided they faced the open view of a huge field which was feeding a flock of sheep. The animals were well on with growing their winter coats. The flock would all move gradually en masse to various parts of the field as each day passed. Occasionally they would all run somewhere else in the field and then resume grazing.

“Why do they all go to the same places?” Helen asked, snuggled under my armpit as we watched them from the bed.

“I suppose one off them decides ... and they all follow...”

“Like sheep!” she laughed.

“Exactly!”

The room was spacious and the bed was huge, and we eyed it hungrily when we arrived, dropped our bags, undressed each other and fell into bed and each other’s arms, in which we lay awhile before hands began roaming to excite, lips flowed, kissed, and admitted tongues.

Before long, on Helen’s instruction I was lodged deep within her and we were see-sawing our way to orgasmic release. It was relaxed (to some extent) and involved much eye contact as we sought to regain that deep intimacy we had before the break. We did not speak of this, but our physical need for closeness spoke for us.

The weather smiled on us over the whole five days with varying amounts of cloud, but an absence of the rain for which North Wales is usually famous. It was also warm for the end of October. In fact we giggled that the temperature was the same as Barcelona’s!

There was again an unspoken agreement that being together was more important than what we did, which meant that we would occupy the mornings exploring the area, and the afternoons, after a shower often taken together, an hour or two in bed, then dinner.

It was not always love making, that afternoon bed: we would read or watch TV, which was entertaining since reception was intermittent! There were also hugs, caresses, cuddles and kisses before, if we’d been more energetic, a second shower before dinner.

We visited Bodnant Gardens, mercifully still open at the end of October, and Conwy Castle, which for a ruin is still largely intact, and from which we could view Telford’s Suspension Bridge, and Stevenson’s Tubular Railway Bridge over the River Conwy.

We strolled around the town of Conwy and its quaint waterfront containing purportedly the smallest house in Wales. It was really very small.

We drove Marine Drive which clings to the side of a 200m high headland west of Llandudno called the Great Orme. Another day we parked in Llandudno and hiked up the Orme, but got the Victorian Tram down!

We walked the lower slopes of Snowdon, not trusting the weather which can be fickle on the mountain. We drove to and admired the waterfalls at Betws-y-Coed. We walked on beaches and enjoyed the sight and sound of the sea.

The mixture of long, sometimes strenuous walks, of driving through the mountains of North Wales, and of sightseeing, seemed to heal any residual wounds from our enforced separation, and we returned to River House the following Friday refreshed and our relationship feeling fully repaired.

We had one day, Saturday, do our washing, and to focus on Helen’s imminent departure for York on Sunday, ready for work on Monday morning.

“I’ll miss you so much!” she averred as we lay abed late on Saturday morning. “When can we meet?”

There was little doubt in my mind. “Every weekend, I would have thought,” I said. “It’s no fun to drive on a Friday, but the trains are frequent and not too expensive. We could alternate if your parents don’t mind me staying.”

Her face clouded at that. “I’m not too sure about mother. Dad will be fine; I think he likes you, and he really admires how you found out the truth about us. If necessary I’ll come here every week. I know we can’t be together during the week, but I’m damned if we’re going to be apart a moment longer than necessary.”

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