Bow Valley
Chapter 13: Out of the Frying Pan

Copyright 2010 by Barbe Blanche. No unauthorised posting on any other site permitted

Kari

Without saying another word, I threw my leg over the crossbar. Then I pushed down on the pedal and, with that, we were off up the hill. We were all relieved to be on our way, naïvely unaware of what we were to come across over the part of our journey.

The ride up to the tops, as they call the high land around these parts was easy. The visibility up here wasn't too bad, there was a cold breeze but it was dry. This time we never had to get off and walk. Although we went slowly in places, we kept on the move. I did have to stand up on my pedals and Sarita had a hard go of it too. Despite his being knocked for six* by the virus, Abba showed how fit he was, his legs effortlessly moving the pedals.

I don't think it can have taken much longer than an hour, or probably less, before we were hitching up the trailers. That wasn't bad for the first seven to ten miles as Abba reckoned it to be. That night it was cold. A couple of scurries of snow scared us but I think it was because we were so high up. The biggest problem for the ride was the cold at this height.

We still managed to keep going at a steady pace. I was listening to my satnav. Abba knew exactly where we were as he anticipated all the instructions in my earpiece. But we were using that as a back-up.

I was glad when I realised that for the last hour we had been freewheeling most of the time as we were starting to leave behind the Downley Bluff and higher heathland. I couldn't believe it; the sky was getting lighter so it must have been after eight o'clock in the morning. Had we been travelling all night? That was something like nine hours, no, longer.

I heard five clicks on the little walkie-talkie and appreciated that we were now looking for somewhere to stop. We went even slower.

Our campsite that day was behind a small copse. Unseen from the road, we camped in a field in a small hollow which we hoped would keep us hidden.

In the event, the camp was remarkable for its non-event. We had a small snack before we turned in and discussed the progress. We had made a far greater distance than we had all envisaged over hilly terrain. Probably, we had knocked off forty miles, maybe fifty, possibly more. No, the satnav was pretty basic and didn't yield that info.

We were tired and Sarita's suggestion to massage the of each other's calves was gratefully taken up.

"Feeling OK?"

I wondered what she was on about, "I've got over the virus. It doesn't leave you as debilitated as I expected."

"Quite; what about your other pain?"

I'd forgotten until she asked, "I think it might have fallen out."

And she started giggling at me and jeered quietly.

"What's the matter with you two? Let me in on it?"

"No, it's women's stuff?" Sarita shouted back at Abba as he idly picked up the tampon wrapper I'd dropped, to ensure it was nothing important. He looked at it and then guiltily stuffed it in his pocket.

Then she teased him, insisting I get in the sleeping bag, one side of Abba, and she got in the other.

"You're a man, you know about shaving?"

"Yes?"

"Which of us has the better shave?" She plonked his hand on me. And it doesn't take much guessing to know exactly where. And I guess I knew exactly where his other hand was put.

I felt sorry for him. He was so embarrassed. When she took her hand away, I let mine stay there, my fingers gently placed over the top of his so he would know that the contact was by my agreement. Even so, he was so frightened of offending me, he took his hand away. I was a bit disappointed and addressed Sarita. "Haven't you told Abba yet?" I asked quietly.

"Told me what?"

"Abba," she whispered, "Kari likes you touching her. In fact..."

Bloody hell! I thought, some people dropped off to sleep quickly but damn! He was now fast asleep. Or he was too shy to take part in the conversation.

"Sarita, perhaps it would be better if you spoke to him, tomorrow, one to one? Please. Tell him we're both his girlfriends."

Abba was so shy, I felt sorry for him. But then, by his breathing I was pretty sure that he was in a deep sleep. He had only just recovered from the virus which he had had for longer than we had. And, of course, he had been struck far more severely by its effects than either of us two.

Over the night, I was aware that he turned over towards me. He was being spooned by Sarita. I could feel her hand around my bottom, holding onto his cock, gently.

Well, two can play at that game; I pulled his hand over my boobs and left it there. It was rather pleasant to feel that contact. Once or twice over the next few hours I awoke to sense that he was gently squeezing me or playing with my nipple. I still have the impression that he was fast asleep, and wondered what erotic dreams he was experiencing.

Damn! I was only half awake when, suddenly, I found his hand leave my breast uncovered.

I turned sleepily over onto my back, "Don't you know that if a naked woman gets into bed with you and lets you play with her boobies it is regarded as very impolite to let them get cold?"

Yes, it was very pleasant night, or rather, day's sleep.

Sarita didn't do what I had requested. Instead she went at it like bull in a china shop, "Abba, you know that Kari likes you? And she has really bouncy boobies and the most delightful unbearded clam you can imagine"

There you are, another euphemism; 'unbearded clam'. I'd not heard that one before.

"One day soon, she'll want you to play with her cooter," she sighed, "And whatever you think, I don't mind. In fact you've got to face facts. There's you and me and there's Kari in this escapade. And if you really want Kari to feel bad you'll ignore your male urges and the sex appeal that she's been throwing at you the last week. You'll ignore the fact she nursed you to health when I was ill. You'll ignore the fact that she sees an intimacy between us and feels left out on a limb."

She really went on. I have no idea what point she was trying to make. I cringed in embarrassment.

"Do you want that? Course you don't! What's the alternative? You dump me and hit it off with my friend. Let me tell you neither one of us is prepared to let that happen. So we're in a dichotomy – easily solved; Kari likes you, you like Kari. I like you, you like me; ergo, I have boyfriend, Kari has a boyfriend."

WHAT WAS SHE GOING ON ABOUT?

"You have one girlfriend and one other, two of us."

"Abba," I started, "I'm your girl and what Sarita says is that you can fuck me any time you want."

DAMNATION! That never came out right. And he knew I wasn't quite finished with my period unless he had no idea what a tampon wrapper was.

"Oh she's safe sexually, all fitted up, so no babies."

He was stunned! I bet he had no clue what she meant. I kept quiet.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Er?"

"And if you're thinking I might be jealous, of course I'm jealous."

"Oh."

I was beginning to have second thoughts if she was going to be resentful.

"I'm jealous I'm not a man, because, if I were, I'd enjoy the tightest wizard's sleeve I've had the pleasure of knowing since I started practising on live bits."

What was she on about?

"Wizard's sleeve?" was all he could ask, not having a clue as to what she was referring.

"Badger, love cup, cockholder. Oh what do you men call it? Cunt! That word is SO archaic. But let me tell you, she not only has prettiest Bristols but inside has the healthiest little cunt you're ever going to enjoy. And no, I'm not jealous of you enjoying her Cave of Wonders. And I'm not jealous of your spending time with her because she's told me she won't be selfish either. Now, you just ponder that over the next leg of our trek because she won't remain unsatisfied for long."

Later, Sarita was to tell me it was a pity I had my period, as she was out of action because the facilities for her to put in, take out and wash a Dutch cap were crap while we were tenting.

Poor Abba, two healthy and willing women and both of them out of action for the duration of the next few days!

We had a pleasant evening but Abba had to conduct the Spanish Inquisition on, 'Was Sarita sure it was OK with her if... ?'

Later I understood his reasoning but he did go on a bit.

I felt Abba spooning me from behind and this time I put his fingers over MY breasts.

That evening when we got up, it was about six-ish, not early because we had a big dual carriageway to cross and didn't want arrive there too much before midnight, I hugged him too and put my hands on his bum and pulled him really hard into me. I'd never appreciated someone squashing into my boobs. It was a good feeling and Sarita gave him real humdinger of a Frenchie. And no, I didn't feel jealous of Sarita.

He now knew what we felt about him, both of us.

We got off about eight-ish. It was easy going, almost all downhill.

There were a few silly crisscrossing lanes between fields that we took slowly. Apart from the occasional farm or remote cottage we passed very few buildings. We made a good time. The only thing keeping our speed down was the lack of visibility but it was a clear night with a few clouds scudding at times across the low quarter moon.

The satnav had really proved it was good at this sort of thing as, lower down now; we were going between high hedges. You couldn't even be sure of the difference between a public road and a private lane where some tracks came in and the entrances to remote farms or houses looked no different from a public road, particularly at night without lights.

We had expected to make a few wrong turns but in any event we never did. After a couple of questionable junctions that my satnav corrected us on, I now took the lead in the dark lanes our route was now bordered by high trees. I was listening through my earphones staring at the badly surfaced road when I came around a bend.

I was concentrating on the satnav instructions in my earpiece, "In fifty yards, at the T junction, prepare to turn left ... In fifty yards, turn left, turn left..."

At that moment a policeman stepped out; clearly our approach had been heard in the still night air. I know we were aware of the whirr of tyres on the tarmac surface, but he had more likely been alerted to our approach by the jangle of the things in my trailer bouncing over a pothole or two.

What scared me more than anything was his machine gun thing.

I jammed my hand on my handlebars and screeched to a halt, all my concentration devoted to trying to stop the weighty trailer before pushing me into him.

"Off your bike, Sir."

And then his attitude changed completely. "It's a little bitch, is it? Get the fuck off."

And I could not believe it, a knife was in his hands and I was standing there, gob-smacked* as his free hand reached for the waist of my jeans.

 
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