The Cycling Holiday

by Lord John Thomas

Copyright© 2010 by Lord John Thomas

Sex Story: How a simple cycling holiday changed my life for ever.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Rape   Coercion   Drunk/Drugged   Heterosexual   Fiction   Slut Wife   Cuckold   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Black Male   White Female   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Size   Slow   .

My husband and I were three days into our holiday; it was a bright sunny Monday morning and we were cycling along the narrow towpath at the edge of a canal. As we were both out of work, to say we were short of money would be an understatement. We had thirty-five pounds between us, and that was to buy everything we needed for the whole two weeks. We were both on second-hand bikes. Well to be more accurate, they were bikes Tom had nicked from the local tip. Bikes someone else had thrown away; and Tom had liberated by climbing the fence at night, and carrying home. He'd then had to go back, night after night for nearly two weeks, until he'd found enough spare parts to make them fit to ride. Oh, and they were both men's bikes, or again, to be more accurate, mine was actually a boys bike. But being as I'm only five three in height, I don't think I'd have managed on a full size man's bike.

We'd camped out the last two nights, not at official camp sites, but just pitching our tent in the corner of a farmer's field, and then breaking camp at first light. Once away from where we'd spent the night, we'd find a spot to get out the cooking utensils, and we'd have a good breakfast, enough to see us through until a snack at mid-day. So far we'd manage to avoid detection by any unfriendly farmers using this method, leaving our money for the food we'd need. And in Tom's case, to pay for a nightly visit to whichever local pub we'd found; Tom did like a drink of real ale. We each carried our clothing and bedroll etc. in packs on our backs. And up until about an hour ago, we'd been cycling on roads; where possible trying to keep to country lanes to avoid traffic. But as I've said, we had now taken to the canal towpath.

We were both in good spirits and had been ambling our way along the towpath for about two hours, enjoying the peace and tranquillity these deserted waterways provided. But now in the distance I could see a canal boat approaching. And as we and the boat drew nearer to each other; the chugging sound of the engine became louder. When the front-end of the boat and I were level, I heard Tom saying something. But as the boat had now broken the silence, although I knew he'd spoken, I couldn't make out what he'd said. And as I was in front of Tom, I briefly turned my head, to ask, "What?" "I said watch that."

I didn't hear the rest. My front wheel hit the tree root that was protruding from the dirt track. And as it was not only a good two or three inches high, but crossed the path at an angle, as soon as my wheel made contact, the handlebars were wrenched from my grip. The wheel then descended into a reed filled hole at the waters edge, where it collapsed, the spokes either snapping clean apart, or pulling holes in the rim. The bike and I are still moving, following the path of the now crumpled wheel. So the next thing to hit the earth is the front forks, and they fold on impact. Now the front of the frame digs in, and no-way is this going to fold. It pitches up the back of the bike hurling me over the top into the canal. And then it lands itself in the water on top of me.

It was pandemonium for a few minutes. The man steering the boat rammed it into reverse, and revved the engine. Tom jumped from his bike, and after removing his back-pack, ripped a branch from the hedgerow the other side of the path. And as Tom reached out towards me, and the back of the boat passed where I was floundering, in jumped one of the boats passengers. But as he jumped in feet first, he soon realised just how shallow the water at the edge of the canal is. He was stood just a foot or so away from me, the water only a foot above his waist. It wasn't only the fact I'd gone in almost horizontal, with the bike landing on top of me, but I also had a heavy back-pack, which had unbalanced me, making finding my feet so difficult. And grabbing onto Tom's branch hadn't helped; this had just overbalanced me again.

But as soon as the hands hooked under my arms and lifted, I was able to find my own feet on the muddy canal bottom. From then on, it was just a case of us trudging our feet through the knee deep sludgy mud on the canal bottom to make our way to the bank. And it was now that the man who'd jumped in (I found out later his name was Steve), took hold of the branch Tom was holding in one hand, whilst he wrapped his other arm around my back, and pulling against Tom, he hauled us to the bank.

Both Steve and I were a sorry sight, not just soaked and bedraggled, but caked in mud from the knees down. And while Steve helped me remove my back-pack, Tom used his branch to hook-up and drag out my bike. By now the boat had come to a halt some thirty or forty yards further down, and three more men were now running towards us. As the bike was hauled out, Tom held it up showing everybody the sorry state it was in. And then as all eyes turned to look at Steve and I, starting with my Tom; they all began to laugh. I know the two of us must have been a sight to laugh at. But I think it was as much the sheer relief that what at first looked like a dangerous situation had turned out to be so comical. And before we knew it, as Steve and I looked first at each other and then ourselves, we both joined in with their laughter.

Once the initial laughter had subsided, it was a case of weighing up our situation. First everybody made sure both Steve and I weren't actually hurt. Then came the comical descriptions, each person adding their own observation of how they'd either seen me take to the air, or my demise as I'd landed in the water. All of these observations were accompanied by more rounds of laughter. And then came questions like, the one from Dave. (As with Steve, we learnt all of their names later on during that first morning.) "Do you live very far away; will you be able to carry your bike home?" Steve answered before Tom or I got chance, "It doesn't matter how close they live. She can't walk home in that state. She'll have to come on board and take a shower."

I don't know what I was thinking I'd be able to do to get cleaned-up, but I instinctively replied, "Oh no. We couldn't put you to that trouble." Then Tom said, "Hold on a minute there Kelly." Then turning towards Dave, asked, "I mean, if you've got a shower on board, would we be imposing to ask if she can use it?" "Of course not. It's the least we can do. Mind you, I think we'll need to find a way to get some of the muck off first before she actually goes inside. It's a hire boat and it's fully carpeted. I don't think they'd take too kindly to seeing the carpets caked in that black muck she's covered in."

Steve was stood alongside me, and we were both in about the same state, well from the waist down. I mean, I was soaked from head to foot, whereas, he was only wet up to his chest. He continued with, "Well I think the first step is for us all to get back on board, there's a boat coming, and ours has now drifted across and we're blocking the canal." He was right, they'd moored up rapidly, as soon as they'd been able to slow the boat down, but they'd only used a rope from the front end of their boat.

Steve then turned to Tom, "Where were you going? Cos we can give you a lift to the next town we come to, but it's in the opposite direction to the way you were heading?" "Well, we aren't really going anywhere at all. We're just starting a two week holiday, cycling around for the first week going wherever the fancy takes us. And then at the end of the week, or as soon as our money looks like it's about to run out, we'll start making tracks for home." "So if we chuck your bikes on top of the boat, we can get underway, and your misses and I can get cleaned up while we go." "Well yes, so long as it's ok with you and your pals?" Steve didn't ask either of the other two men, before replying, "Course it is, come on, let's get this lot on board and get going before that other boat rams us."

One of the men (Derek) had already made his way back to the boat, and was using the power of the engine to swing the drifting stern back to our side of the canal. But in doing this, it turned the bow away from where it had been rammed into the canal bank. So by the time we'd all made our way to where the boat was, it was now parallel to the bank, but with the water being so shallow, it left a good two foot gap between the boat and bank. Ian jumped across onto the boat, as if it was just a simple step. He then turned around, and leaning towards the bank, took the remains of my bike off Dave who was passing it towards him. Once he'd stowed it on the roof of the boat, he then turned back and took Tom's bike from him, placing it with mine on the roof. Then he took Tom's back-pack, throwing it into the cabin through the door at his side. But mine being wet and muddy; it was placed in the front well just behind where he stood.

Ian next held out his hand for me and I stepped to the edge of the bank, with Tom holding my hand. But as I lifted my leg towards the edge of the boat, my foot slipped. Tom caught me, taking my weight, and hauling me back up to a more solid part of the bank. "Silly sod. I knew you were too close to the edge. Stand back here and stretch your leg across." "I'm sorry." I tried to stretch my leg up to the boat, but the step Ian had made look effortless, was a high step up, and quite a distance for my little legs. "I can't reach from here; can't they get the boat any closer?" "My god woman, they're going to enough trouble as it is, just lift your leg up higher."

Steve spoke, "Maybe if you carry her?" "I suppose you're right, we don't want her falling in again. She's bloody useless. Anyone would think I was asking her to jump the width of the bloody canal." He turned and bent down, but just as he was about to pick me up, he said, "Oh look at the state of you, I'm gonna get myself clartted up to bloody high heaven." Steve again spoke, "Here, let me lift her. I'm in a state already, so she can't make me any worse." "Nah! I guess I'd better do it." "Why, it'll only make even more cleaning. Come on, its only one quick lift." "Well ok, so long as you don't mind." "Mind? Are you kidding? It's not everyday I get to wrap my arms around a lovely young creature like your wife." "Yeh, well. You just mind where you're putting your hands." I snapped at Tom, "Tom! For gods sake! The man's doing us a favour. Say sorry to him." "He knows I didn't mean anything by it."

So with that, Steve cupped one arm under my muddy legs, and his other around my back and as soon as I'd put my arm around his neck I was lifted. And then with one simple step, he carried me across what I'd thought was an insurmountable gap. He placed me down on the bench seat at the other side of the front well, and then Tom climbed aboard. The mooring rope was pulled from the bank by Dave and he stepped aboard bringing it with him. And with that we were off. Steve asked Tom, "She needs those mucky trainers taking off, being as I'm already in a mess, shall I do it?" "You can if you want, are you sure you don't mind?" "A bit of muck never hurt anyone, and I told you; I'm already dirty."

So after taking his own trainers off, he knelt down at my feet, and pulled mine off for me. Then he said, "Look, err. What is your name?" "Tom." "Ok Tom, I'm Steve, this is Dave, and that's Ian. Derek is the one up the other end steering. Well what I was going to say was. I can't go through the cabin with these jeans in this state, are you ok with me dropping them off in front of your misses?" "I guess so, I mean you've got your boxers on underneath haven't you?" "Well 'Y' fronts actually, but it amounts to much the same thing."

And then without asking me, down came his jeans, leaving him stood there with a very large bulge in his underpants not more than a foot away from my face. (And remember, this was all going on out in the open, anyone either using the towpath or even these people on the boat coming towards us, would see him; but I guess men are oblivious to being shy.) I turned my head to one side, and then Steve just climbed up and sat on the edge of the boat, dangling his legs over the side. It only took a couple of seconds of his feet splashing around in the water before he was climbing back into the well. "Right that's the worst off me, now what about you." Then again turning to ask Tom, "Shall I hold her? I wouldn't want her slipping in while we're moving." "I guess it'd be safer, she's got no sense of balance."

Then Steve turned to me, "Ok luv, stand up and put one arm around my neck." He again lifted me as before, and as he turned me around, he sat me on the edge of the boat where he'd sat. But as he'd turned me, and lowered my bottom onto the boats edge, he'd changed his hold; pulling the arm from under my legs. And then he slipped the arm which had been around my back, to a position around the front of my body, leaving his open palm on my tummy. Then with him now kneeling on the bench to my side and slightly behind me, he lent over to look at my feet; which were dangling at least six inches above the surface of the water. "I see what you mean about having short legs. And I don't think it'd be safe holding you and lowering your feet to the water."

Still with his arm around me, he turned back towards the others, "Hey Ian, grab the mop, and bring it over here. I'll keep a good hold of her, whilst you mop her legs to get the worst of this muck off." But as he'd turned to talk to Ian, his arm had slipped further around my body, and his hand had dropped into my crotch area. Now whether this was by design or an accidental result of his change of position, I'm not sure. But as I was wearing cycling shorts, which although the 80's styling was not skin hugging like modern ones, they were very short in the leg. So his outer fingers were actually resting one in each of the leg openings; leaving only his middle two fingers resting on the gusset of my shorts. Obviously from where my Tom was at the other side of the well, he had no idea about where Steve had placed his hand. I wanted to say something, but feared starting some kind of incident. And I still at this time wasn't sure Steve had done it deliberately.

And then Ian approached from the opposite side to where Steve was leaning around me, and he dunked the mop in the water. It was a bit of fun and games at first, the mop almost dragging Ian overboard as the drag of the moving water took hold of his mop. And then he'd splash me with the water from his mop, whilst Steve lent over the boats edge, and rubbed the mud off my legs. But as I'd had bare legs in the mud, mine were not dirty just up to ankle height, but had caked mud up to within inches of the tops of my legs. The fun and games had got to a point where I was squealing, laughing and jigging around as Ian splashed water ever higher up my legs, and Tom came across, I guess; to see what we were up to.

But as the nearest he could get was to stand behind Steve or Ian, his view was restricted, and as soon as Steve noticed Tom, he said, "Don't worry lad, I won't let her fall in." And as he then said, "I've got a good hold of her," I felt him pressing the fingers either side up into each leg hole, as if making a point; making me aware of their presence. And as if that wasn't enough, with Tom stood right at his shoulder, he reached under the nearest of my legs, taking hold just below the knee, and lifted it wide open. Saying, "There you go Ian; you can get in to clean in between now."

But I soon realised that holding my leg across not only gave Ian free access to splash the inside of the tops of my legs, I suddenly felt fingers on my pussy! Not flesh on flesh, thank god, but nevertheless Steve had now moved his hand from the outside of the gusset of my shorts. To a position fully inside the leg of my shorts, with the gusset of my panties in the palm of his hand. And within seconds of his hand gaining access, his fingers were pressing into the lips of my pussy, with just the thin material of my panties for protection. I tried pulling my free leg across to meet the one being held. But as Steve was still restraining it, my actions just rotated my bottom, and I felt myself slip off the rim of the boat. But as Steve's hand was already in place, I landed squarely into his palm. As Tom saw me slip he let out a gasp, but Steve cupped his hand deep under my crotch, lifting me safely back to my original position, saying, "It's ok. I told you I've got a good hold of her."

Then Tom said angrily to me, "You silly sod! Stop wriggling and jumping around, its only water they're splashing on you. You're behaving like a silly school girl. It's a good job Steve had his wits about him, or you'd have ended-up back in the canal." Then he added, but talking directly to Steve, "If she mucks you about again, slap her legs." I felt like I was a little child, and Tom was my dad, not my husband. I wanted to say something, but before I could pluck up courage, Steve said, "She's ok. It's surprising just how cold that water is, and I'm only dipping my fingers in it."

My reluctance to thwart Steve by informing my Tom what he was doing, was not because I wanted his groping, or up until this point, because I was in any way aroused. It was fear of Tom's reaction; his temper was violent and very volatile. He'd nearly landed in prison about six months ago, and that was just sparked off by three lads chatting me up in our local pub.

But now with my weight again on the rim of the boat, Steve's fingers were freely stroking, pressing deeply into my pussy slit. Still thank god; on the outside of my knickers! But outside or not, this arm wrapped around me, with the fingers stroking rhythmically, was driving feelings through my body, the like of which I'd not felt since Tom and I had been courting. I guess he'd only been working me for a couple of minutes or so, but I could feel myself giving-in to him. And then, just as I felt the throbbing in my pussy about to develop into bodily movements which I wouldn't be able to hide, he said, "Ok Ian, I think she's clean enough for me to carry into the shower."

His arm let go of my leg, and scooped under both of my knees. His hand pulled from in between my thighs, and hooked onto my torso. And he again lifted me, "Can one of you open the doors on the way through, and make sure the door to the shower is open." So Dave went first, followed by Steve carrying me; with Ian and Tom behind. As Steve dropped me to my feet in the tiny shower room, he closed the door saying, "Pass your clothes around the door, and I'll put them in the sink to be washed."

Then he said, "You lot might as well go and wait with Derek; maybe Tom might fancy a try at steering. I'll wait here, and grab a shower when your wife's finished. I heard them talking as they made their way past, and their voices faded as they got further away. I knocked on the door, and opened it just a few inches. Steve's hand appeared, and I placed my shorts, 'T' shirt, bra and knickers into it. As his hand pulled out, I slid the bolt across. It felt so good to be safe behind a locked door, and the warm water was so good after the cold canal dunking. But as I turned to face the warm cascade, something erupted in my tummy.

The fingering had started something, but the combination of cold water, and an overbearing husband glowering over my shoulder had stifled most of the effect. But the warm safe sanctuary I was now in, allowed my libido full flight. My back slithered down the wall behind me. My feet wedged into each far corner of the tiny little shower room. My knees pressed hard against the wall one side and the door the other. I was wedged with my bottom not quite touching the water tray, and my fingers began working my pussy. With this little room being so small, and the walls so flimsy, I can only assume my frantic masturbation must have been shaking the walls or rattling the door. Because I came to my senses with Steve calling as he banged the door. "What's happening in there? Are you alright?"

How I'd so suddenly lapsed into such a state of wanton self gratification I have no idea, it was definitely out of character. I mean, even during the periods when my Tom's attention was thin on the ground, I'd usually manage two or three weeks before resorting to my teenage habit. And even then, I'd only ever do it in the privacy of my own home if Tom was out; usually at the pub. My favourite stimulations were the so-called reader's confessions in Tom's porn mags. Mags he thought he'd hidden, but I'd discovered.

But back to the shower; I'd been deep into my arousal, and not yet reached my climax. But his knocking had brought me down to earth with a bump. I suddenly realised where I was, and as I struggled to my feet, "Err, I'm ok. I just slipped on the soap. There's not much room in here. I think I bumped the door with my bum as I bent down to pick it up." Even as I said the words, I cringed with embarrassment. "Lucky door. Will you be long?" "No, I'm about finished." "Let me know when, and I'll pass you a towel." "Will do. Thank you."

I hurriedly made sure I'd actually washed off all the canal mud; which was, of course, why I was in here. So as soon as I was sure I was clean, I unbolted, and then opened the door; just a few inches. In came a hand, carrying a clean towel, I took it, closed the door and began to dry myself. "I've given you a big towel so you can wrap it around you like a robe. There isn't enough room in there to swing a cat; just dry off the worst of it, and then come out and lock yourself into one of the bedrooms while I take my shower."

It made sense, so I followed his instructions, and seconds later I stepped out of the shower room. The gangway door to my left (The one leading to the back of the boat) was closed. I turned right, and standing facing me just a yard away was Steve; with not a stitch on. As Tom would say, 'stark bollock naked'. But it wasn't his bollocks that got my attention. It was his cock, hanging limp, but looking so big and fat, I was staring in disbelief. In fact my first reaction was to laugh; thinking it was some kind of school-boy joke. But as he moved and it sort of swayed sideways, the naturalness of its movement dispelled any illusions about its authenticity.

"What's wrong? Haven't you seen a cock before?" I instantly diverted my eyes, and I felt the burning sensation as my face and neck coloured-up. "I I was. I mean I didn't expect you to be naked." "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd mind. You know, being married. I assumed you'd be used to seeing cock. I mean, your husband has consummated the match?" "Yes of course."

I stepped back in the gangway, up to the closed door behind me; leaving him room to pass me and get into the shower. He took two paces towards me, bringing him up so close we were almost touching. And then with his eyes penetrating mine, I felt him taking hold of my hand. As he moved it towards where his cock hung, I said, "Please no." I clenched my hand into a fist and I felt my knuckles touch his cock. Then as his other hand began to peel my fingers open, he said, "Please. I mean, I did jump in to rescue you. Just hold it for one second. I promise I won't go any further. Please, just hold it."

My mind was racing, and that interrupted arousal just burst back into life like a wild fire. Every part of my body was pulsing feverishly, and I felt him wrapping my fingers around his shaft. It pulsed in my hand, and even though his hand was no longer holding mine, I kept gently squeezing. And then as I felt his fingers probing inside the towel, his other hand began to lift and ease my left knee up and to the side. In went his fingers, and his mouth met mine. As our tongues probed and penetrated each others mouths, his fingers did the same to my pussy.

How long he worked me, I'm not sure, but as our lips parted, he asked in a whisper, "Yes?" Before I got chance to respond in any way, Steve cussed half under his breath, "Shit!" He'd heard doors banging. I say he, because I was still on some other planet. But as the noise was coming from the end of the boat where my Tom was, and he'd heard it over the noise of the engine, he knew it meant who ever was coming would burst in on us in seconds. And as he turned and stepped into the shower room, he pulled me. First past himself, and then pushing me towards the bedroom the other side. It was a good job he'd grabbed me, because I was still in a trance. But just a split second later the door burst open, and in came Tom followed by Dave. This sudden appearance shook me from my trance.

Steve had by now closed the shower room door, and I turned just as Tom said, "Bloody hell woman, how long does it take you to have a shower?" "It's only a small shower room, it makes it difficult. Anyway, what's the rush?" "No rush, I just came down to make sure you were alright." "Alright? Why wouldn't I be?" "No reason. Where's Steve?" "Having a shower, can't you hear the water?" Which by now, thank god, Steve had started running. "So what are you doing?" "Well I was getting myself dried in there. But when I heard someone coming I didn't know who it was, so I came out. I didn't want to embarrass any of these nice men who've been so kind to us."

"Ok, I'll go and let you get on with it. Oh, have you found something in your pack you can wear?" "No they're all filthy wet." Dave who was the smallest of these men, being around five foot six, said, "It's ok, let me get through into my room, it's the next one down, I'll find you a pair of shorts and a 'T' shirt. They'll look a bit big, but they'll do until yours are washed through and dried." So as he passed me, and went out of the other door, I turned to Tom, "So? What are you waiting for now?" "Nothing. I just thought I'd wait for him to find you something to wear." "Why? Are you gonna try it on." "No, but he might." "You're bloody paranoid." "Maybe, but I'll wait all the same."

It was less than a minute before Dave came in with a pair of shorts and 'T' shirt, "Will these do?" "Yes. Thank you." "Ok, I'll leave them there." With that, he threw them on one of the side bunks, and he and Tom left; Dave closing the door behind him. It was only seconds later when out popped Steve from the shower-room, with an erection the like of which I didn't think was possible. I held my hands up open palms towards him, "No Steve. Please I'm begging you." "But you were ready." "Please Steve, not now. He'll kill me if he catches us." As he took one more step towards me, he said, "So we won't let him catch us." "Please don't. Please let me get dressed."

"So that's it? You get me aroused, and then say no. What are you? A prick teaser!" "Please, I didn't do anything." "No! Well who was it wanking my cock. It wasn't bloody fairies." "I I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." "Come-on, he won't be back again straightaway, we'll have enough time. You know you want it." "Please don't make me." "MAKE YOU! What do you take me for? I'm no bloody rapist. Fuck you then, I'll take my shower." And with that he turned and disappeared into the shower-room, locking the door behind him.

I was shaking from head to toe, and as I slowly made my way back into the bedroom, I locked the door behind me. It took a while before I was able to collect my wits and complete my drying off. But once I'd finished getting dried I put the shorts and 'T' shirt on, and then went out to the front well, where my back-pack had been left. I searched through all my stuff, but all of my knickers and bras were soaked. Even this wouldn't have been too bad, but when I'd been floundering around in the water, I'd stirred up so much filth; the dirty water had made them smell foul. So I resigned myself to wearing the clothes loaned to me, without underwear. I did however find a belt belonging to me, one out of my own jeans, and although the jeans weren't fit to wear, the belt being plastic, was ok. And the pair of shorts Dave had sorted out, were far too big around the waist, so this was almost an essential find. Once I'd fitted the belt, I picked up both pairs of muddy trainers, that is, mine and Steve's, and also his mud caked jeans.

So I'm walking back to the kitchen with a pair of trainers in each hand, and Steve's jeans over my left fore-arm. But as I'm about to walk through the second cabin/bedroom, I see Steve stepping out of the shower room just the other side of the bedroom I'm entering. I stop in my tracks, but he just walks out, dripping wet, and like the first time; stark bollock naked. Also like the first time, his cock is hanging limp, swaying from side to side as he approaches me. And even though this isn't my first sight of his cock, I'm still staring in disbelief. Suddenly I come to my senses, as I realise my head is actually tilting down as my eyes follow its movement ever closer. I jerk my head up and as I now stare up into his eyes, I lift my two hands, holding out the trainers to fend him off.

"Don't look so worried, I'm not gonna fuck you." And then after a short pause, but before I got chance to reply, he added, "Yet." "Please, let me get past. If Tom sees me here with you naked, he'll go ballistic." "I'll let you get past as soon as you promise me that fuck." "You know I can't do that." "And you know I'm gonna fuck you before the days out." "Please don't say that." "If you promise to fuck me, I'll promise to hold off until the time is right. I mean, I don't want to see you getting into trouble with your hubby. But if you don't cooperate, I'll just take you, and if that twat doesn't like it, he can go fuck himself." "He'll kill you! I'm not kidding; he's got a reputation, especially when he's angry. I mean it. He's been in trouble with the police before; he glassed a bloke just for chatting-me-up." "That doesn't scare me; I know his type, pushy with women, but only fight men when he's drunk. He's no fighter, he's a drunken brawler. And in case it had skipped your notice, while I'm fucking you, there are three others to take care of him. Shall we put it to the test?"

As he said the last bit, he reached out placing an open hand on each of my shoulders. "No please. You said you wouldn't force me." "I won't have to. We both know within seconds of me taking hold of you, you'll be gagging for it." I wasn't going to admit it, but I knew he was right. What it was about him I don't know, but just a look stirred up feelings I blush to describe. "Please let me get past." "Not until you promise to fuck me." "How can I? Even if I wanted to, I couldn't magically make him disappear." "Ok, let's start there. Do you want to?" "No. You know I don't." "Well I think you do. And I'm not the only one, Ian thinks you want to be fucked, he told me so. I mean you're giving off all the signals." "What signals?" "Don't come the innocent. Even your dim-witted husband could sense it. Why do you think he's so irritable? It isn't us he doesn't trust, it's you." "But I don't know what you mean. I haven't done anything."

He took his hands from my shoulders and took one Step back, and then took a very deep and purposeful intake of breath through his nose, "My god! It's like an aroma from the gods. From Venus herself." As I realised he was pointing out he could smell my pussy, I coloured up again. But then he reached over my arms, which by now had dropped somewhat, and each hand stroked across one of my breasts. As the finger ends rubbed across each nipple, my body shook. "No signs? You're sending out more signals than the TV mast at Castle Brom." "Please let me pass, you're frightening me." "You aren't scared of me. You want my cock as much as I want that wet cunt of yours. What you're frightened of is not being able to say no, and hubby kicking your arse out on the street. Now one last time, say you want my cock, and I'll make sure you get fucked without him knowing." "Even if I admit that you get me aroused, that doesn't mean I want to go with you." "Oh yes it does. Now just admit it, and I'll make sure hubby doesn't find out." "Ok, I'll say it. I want you. You know that. You've known it since you got your hand in my shorts. But please, I'm begging you. Don't let my Tom catch us."

He stepped to one side, "Ok my little one; it wasn't that difficult, was it?" So as I hurriedly made my way to the kitchen sink, to start washing the muddy stuff, he closed the bedroom door, and I assume was drying himself and getting dressed. My head was spinning, and my tummy was bubbling with excitement. I couldn't believe I'd agreed to his demands, but now I was no longer under his spell, I started to regret my stupidity. But regrets or not, I knew the statement he'd made was true. 'We both know within seconds of me taking hold of you, you'll be gagging for it.' So I decided, the only way to protect me from myself, would be to get off this boat before he got chance to carry out his threat.

Once I'd washed the clothes we'd been wearing when we'd been in the canal, and swilled the worst of the muck off the trainers, I knocked on the cabin door where Steve was getting dressed. I waited, but nobody answered. I cautiously turned the handle, and slowly opened the door; all the time fearing he'd be hiding and would pounce out and grab me. But gradually as I looked through this and the next cabin, I realised Steve wasn't there. This should have been a relief, and in one way it was; but deep down, I knew there was a longing. And I also knew that only an encounter with this man would satisfy it.

And so back to reality, when I climbed up to put the trainers on the roof, I saw he was out on the back deck with the others. I can only assume he went out the front of the boat and either walked along the narrow side or went over the roof. As they saw me, Ian climbed up onto the roof at his end, and started to walk down towards me. When he got close he said, "Hand the clothes up here; I'll use this mooring rope to make a line from the flag staff, to somewhere on the side rail at the back. They'll soon blow dry with the boats movement and this sun on them." I handed the clothes up, and once he'd rigged up a line, he began to drape the clothes over it. He hadn't got pegs to hold them, so it was just a case of draping across the middle of each item.

When he picked up my knickers, he stood with his back to the others; I assume so he was out of sight of Tom, and held the knickers out in front of himself examining them. He spoke quietly, but being so far away from the noise of the engine, I heard his words clearly. "When we first saw you cycling towards us, I made a wish to get my hand into your knickers, and look, its come true." He now had my knickers draped over his hand. I snapped, "You're pathetic." I turned and jumped down into the well. But as I disappeared inside, he lent over the top towards me, "Maybe. But I'm gonna fuck you before the days out." I made my way along the boat going through from one cabin to the next until I emerged out on the back deck.

Before I carry on with my story, I'll explain a few things, especially for non UK readers. The traditional canal narrow boats, which this was a modern copy of, were almost as long as the locks that they needed to pass through. So sixty-eight foot long was about the norm. But as some stretches of the canal system had locks only seven foot wide, this restricted the boats to six feet eight inches. Hence the term, 'narrow boat.' This modern version had an open sitting area at the front, the floor of which was level with floors throughout the cabin; hence the term, 'The well'.

Whereas the deck area at the back, although also open, it was at a higher level. When I say higher, I mean about two or three feet above the cabin floor, to give the compartment below enough height to house the engine; making it about level with the boat sides. To make this rear deck user-friendly for holiday hire, it had a metal bar running all around its edge, which acted as a safety rail. The central area between the front well and back deck was a string of cabins, the roof of which made another deck area. But this wasn't flat; it was curved, like the top of a railway carriage. And to give the six foot headroom in the cabins, it meant this deck was three to four feet above the back deck. But unlike the back deck, the roof only had very low handrails, one on each side running the length of the roof, but only a couple of inches high.

While I'm filling in details, maybe it's about time I gave you a brief description of these men. The oldest was Derek; he looked about my dad's age, fifty-five; balding, five ten, slightly plump, with a beard. Dave and Steve, I'd put at around thirty-five to forty. Dave slightly built, about five six. Steve, six foot, drop-dead gorgeous, well built, firm tight muscle bound body (remember, I've seen him naked) and hung like a horse. And Ian, late twenties or early thirties, very similar build to my Tom. Both around five eleven, both slim build. But my Tom was the same age as me, twenty-two. So now I think you've got some idea about the physical characteristics of these men, but the other things that go to make-up their whole character, you'll find out with me as my story unfolds.

And so back to the scene as I climbed from the rear cabin onto the rear deck area. For a start, Ian had re-joined them well before I'd emerged from the cabin. And they were spread out all around the deck area, backs to the canal, their bums resting on the safety rail. Which in the case of the tallest three, it was the right height for. But my Tom was stood just off centre of the decked area, with one hand on the tiller. That's another metal bar, but it's connected to the rudder under the water, and it's by pushing or pulling it from side to side, that you steer the boat. And being as Tom was the one doing the steering, he was standing up to his full height, to enable him to see over the cabin roof, and to one side of the line of drying clothes.

As soon as I saw Tom, something came over me, and I dashed across and standing right up close to him, I clung onto his free arm. "What the bloody hell's got into you?" He shrugged me off his arm, and I guess this didn't come as a surprise. Tom never liked signs of affection in front of other men. In fact, I'm not even sure why I felt the need to cling onto him, it wasn't as if these men were about to pounce on me out here on the open deck. Reluctantly I walked around to the space at the other side of the tiller, and just stood as close as I dare, with my arm reached across and my hand loosely on top of Tom's hand on the tiller.

There was a period of silence for a while, a kind of atmosphere, I guess everyone felt uneasy about Tom's reaction, but then Dave said, "You haven't told her your good news Tom." Tom looked across to me and said, "So how do you fancy a two week holiday on a boat?" I felt a dull ache in the pit of my tummy; it wasn't any kind of arousal, just a feeling that things were going to go wrong. "What d'you mean?" "Well don't look so excited. My god, anyone would think I'd said we had to walk home. You'll never guess where they hired this boat from?" "No, go on, tell me." "Stoke Golding!" "So, why does the boatyard where they've hired it from mean we get a two week holiday?"

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