The Long Ridge

'Fancy another bath?'

He grinned. That had him.

'I'll even rub your back for you,' I told him.

'Just my back?'

'I'll rub whatever you like! Come on.' I jumped up and pulled him up to join me. This time we undressed each other, using it as yet another excuse to feel each other. The bank of this burn was about waist high, and looked promising for some experimentation with some different positions. We jumped down and went swimming, mucking about in the water. He was obviously enjoying the sway of my breasts and the way my body moved even more than I was enjoying looking at him. We clinched in the pool, trying to make each other as wet as possible while rubbing our bodies together. He was looking at least as randy as I was feeling, and his shaft was convincing proof. I gave in to lust and caught him, pressing his body to mine. One of his hands went round my bum to my groin, a finger between the folds of my cunt.

'Please,' I whispered to him. 'I want you to fuck me.'

'With the greatest of pleasure. Yours especially.' He grabbed me and picked me up. I had little choice but to wrap my legs around him, allowing him to grip me tighter. He carried me to the bank and dropped me on it, my legs hanging over. He held on to them, preventing me from dragging myself further on to it. His head went straight between my thighs, one hand spreading my lips from behind. 'What was that you were saying about knowing how to use my tongue?' he demanded. An instant later, it hit my clit. I gasped in pleasure. This might have been a little fast, but I was lost in lust and didn't much care. His hands held my thighs apart as he licked me, lapping up my juices with quick dips of the tip into my hole, then up to my clit again to stimulate it. He left his fingers out of there, leaving my body demanding that it be filled. I came, screaming again, pulling his head closer.

I recovered my breath. 'Do me,' I demanded. 'I want you inside me. Now!'

He obliged, pushing my legs up to rest on his shoulders while he thrust firmly inside me as his hands moved to my tits. It hurt and I winced. I was still raw.

He saw, and stopped in mid thrust. 'Sore?' he asked.

'Yeah. Sorry.' I was sorry for both of us. I wanted him in me, and while playing with his cock was one thing, I know that blue-ball hurts. I didn't want to turn him on like this and then not give myself to him. He began to pull out, slowly and carefully. I thought of something.

'Come up here,' I told him. He obliged, while I pulled myself properly onto the bank and turned over onto my front, spreading my legs again. He wasn't sure what I wanted but lay on top of me, hands snaking round to hold my tits. I whispered what I wanted him to do for me, slightly nervous. I'd never done this before.

'You want me to bugger you?' The obscenity simply let loose my inhibition.

'Yeah. I want your finger in my cunt as well.'

'OK.' I felt him rise up onto his knees. Both hands parted the cheeks of my bum, exposing my rear hole. I was nervous, but seriously turned on. Fingers from one hand dabbled around my cunt, getting wet, then began to make the area round my bum hole slick. They moved back down, and then back up. One was slipped gently inside. It felt as good as it had this morning, but I was more turned on by it, knowing what was coming. He lowered himself down, his cock being rubbed very gently around my cunt, the tip stroking my clit. I squirmed.

'Go on. Do me!' It felt good being this demanding, too, especially the way he was doing whatever I asked of him. The finger came out as he rose up again, pressing my cheeks apart once more. I felt the tip of his cock pressing firmly against my hole. It popped inside, slick from my juices. I gasped again. It hurt, briefly.

'Stop?'

'No. Keep going. Get it all the way in.' I wanted to go through with this. He bore down slowly, thrusting deep inside, pushing my walls apart, one hand, the clean one, going to my cunt. A finger slipped inside, pressing again on that extra-sensitive spot he'd found so easily the night before; his palm on my clit. The combination of sensation and the violation of taboo felt wonderful. It was a bit sore, but well worth it. He began to thrust, slowly, gently. I was being nailed firmly to the ground. I tried to control my breathing. This was good, having something this hard up me, with fingers stimulating my clit and my g-spot. He came before I did, not lasting long, spurting thick juice inside me. He stayed there, rubbing my clit with a finger, feeling his cock through the walls of my cunt. I gave in and he brought me over the edge.

I reached up behind me to hold him. I bent my knees to hold his legs and he lay down flat on top of me, one hand stroking the edge of my breast. I didn't want him to let me go. I turned my head so I could kiss him. 'Thanks,' I said. 'That's the first time I've tried something like that.'

He smiled, knowing I'd given him a real treat. 'Did you enjoy it?'

'Ohh, yeah.' I considered. 'There's less sensation, so I suspect I'd get bored doing it like that a lot, but it would be good as occasional treat-sex. Did you like it?'

'Mm hmm. I like it all wet and juicy round my cock.' I squirmed at this, gaining me a smile from the extra sensation it gave him, since he was still in me. I'd worked that out, given how much time he spent getting me ready, but it felt nice to hear him say it. 'On the other hand, you're nice and tight in there, which feels really good too.'

I kissed him again. Kisses are free, and I was finding again how much I liked them. 'I suppose we'd better get you clean. Like it or not, having your cock up there can't be entirely healthy.'

'Do I sense another bath approaching?'

'Yes, you do. I want to keep you in there, but you can't stay in me all night.'

'Shame.' He grinned. It was, but we'd have to live with it. He pulled himself out and stood, before reaching down to help me to my feet. I went to my tent to get my little bar of soap from its bag. I know some people who think this is extra weight and just use plain water in the hills, but the skits 20 miles from anywhere would be downright unpleasant. Then I joined him in the burn, where he was already rinsing himself down.

'You don't need to be doing that for yourself when I'm here to do it for you,' I told him, a depraved grin on my face. It felt good to practise it. I was pretty confident the last thing he was after was a housewife and knew that I'd never be there just to wait on him. People who go into the hills alone are a self-reliant bunch. This was different. I used the soap mainly to wash his cock and hands. I wanted to make sure he was clean, as much for my health as his. He reciprocated more, I think, to get his hands on my body than anything else, which suited me fine.

It was still warm enough for nudity for a while afterwards, so we sat, naked, stroking each other while we chatted for a good hour before dressing to keep warm.

Day 3

I woke to the sound of the tent being unzipped. It was swelteringly hot and airless. Fresh, marginally cooler air flooded in. The blanket had been kicked off at some stage. Clearly the sun was up and there was no clag this morning. Tents can act like greenhouses in full sunshine. Neil was on hands and knees, still nude, unzipping the outer flysheet. He tied it back, letting cooler air in. I breathed it in, spreading arms and legs to cool off, gaining a grin and widened eyes as I gained his undivided attention. I stretched, then wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me for the first kiss of the day.

'Morning.'

'Very good morning,' he replied, eying up my body. A couple of fingertips lightly traced my torso, gently tweaking the top of my pussy briefly. My body twinged pleasantly, and felt myself start to get wet. It wasn't just the weather he was talking about.

'I think it's time to get up,' I told him. 'It's too hot in here.' I noted that he was already getting up, in more ways than one. I decided I'd better be careful or I'd hurt for days. Last night's brief attempt seemed to have just opened up healing scrapes. Unfortunately, simple lust seemed to be a mutual feeling. I was tired, but randy as hell. The hills do that to me. I crawled out of the tent onto dry grass and sprawled invitingly. Neil needed no encouragement and joined me. Caresses in the warm sunshine turned to foreplay, which I brought up short.

'I can see where this is going. We can muck about, but it's still likely to hurt if you shaft me.'

He shrugged, one finger busy on my clit, another playing with my left breast. I didn't feel happy about what I'd just told him, but friction burns on your lips hurt like hell and it wasn't worth it. Then he grinned wickedly and began kissing and licking my torso. His head rose and inch or two. 'Let's see if I can kiss you better, shall we?' He moved down to my clit and started tonguing it. I surrendered, gripped him with my legs and lay and enjoyed it. He was slow, bringing me to the brink, and then easing off. One finger teased my cunt, which was soon dripping wet, the fingers of the other hand the fur of my pussy.

A tortuous age later he let me have an explosive orgasm, which left me screaming and then gasping for breath. It almost surprised me that he didn't follow it up by ignoring my request to keep his cock out of me, and I was in no state to even want to stop him. He lay half on top of me instead, one leg parting mine, kissing my breasts and running slippery fingers over my now sweaty body. I recovered and began to reciprocate again, enjoying the feel of his hard cock against my thigh. I decided some detailed exploration was called for and reached for it with both hands. He assisted by sliding higher to help me get at it. I ran both hands over it a few times, exploring the soft skin and hardness underneath. I decided that this wasn't enough and rolled over to get me on top of him. This time he didn't resist.

I kissed him, and then kneeled to move to his cock, keeping it always in at least one hand. It was very solid and he was obviously enjoying it. It had been a long time since I'd properly played with one of these, so I had a good look and feel. It was slightly smaller around than my thumb and forefinger could easily encircle together and longer than both hands could grip together. I don't have a lot of experience with men's bits, but this seemed a reasonable size. It could certainly give me a lot of pleasure and felt like a good fit when it was in me.

The disadvantage with this position was that he was left unable to reach much of me and was likely to get uncomfortable, so I turned and stretched out beside him. This gave him easy access to most of my body while I turned my attention to his balls, which hung loose in their sack in the warm sunshine. I cupped them and gently explored the oval shapes inside. This paled soon and I moved back up to his shaft. He was exploring my legs, teasing almost as far as my groin. I stroked one finger up the tube that ran the length of his underside, and then peeled the foreskin back, holding the shaft with the other hand. I knew the tip was sensitive, so I ran my tongue over it to moisten it. I was rewarded with a twitch from the shaft and a quiet moan from behind me; the hands exploring my legs clenched, so I did it again.

I'm not keen on sucking cock. The first – and last – time I tried it the result tasted horrible, but I was feeling horny enough to give it another go. I slid his cock a couple of inches into my mouth and explored with my tongue, stroking the rest of it – most of it – with my hands. I got another moan for my efforts. He put one arm under my legs and indicated that he wanted me to straddle him. I kneeled over him, one leg on either side, keeping his cock in my mouth the whole time. His hands explored my thighs – hands that were soon joined by his lips. I could feel his head between my legs, warm breath on my skin. I began to stroke his cock with my lips and tongue and felt my cunt lips being parted by his delicate little fingers. I felt hair between my upper thighs, and his tongue penetrated my cunt, his lips sucking on mine. I speeded up my sucking moves, exploring his head and the ridge below it with my tongue. Both of his hands snaked round to the front of my thighs to stop me moving away as his tongue moved back to my clit. Fast little flicks with the tip of his tongue began to stimulate it again.

I took his cock out of my mouth, and felt him slow. I used my spit to moisten the whole shaft and started again, using one hand to play with the shaft, the other to hold me up. He continued with another slow build-up. My attentions were making him twitch, and a little bit of fluid leaked out. It didn't taste too bad, so I kept at it, trying to concentrate on what I was doing rather than the sensations in my groin – not an easy job. His twitches were closer together now. Then I felt his cock pulse in my hand, and thick juices spurted into my mouth, then again, again and again. His licking speeded up again. I took my mouth away and was about to spit, before deciding that it didn't taste too bad after all. Clearly, not all men taste the same. I swallowed instead, feeling a bit kinky, and then became more aware of how close he'd got me to orgasm.

One of his hands moved back to play with my cunt lips. I looked down at his cock, which was leaking the last bit of whitish fluid. I used my hand to rub it into his head, enjoying the feel of it. He was obviously enjoying it too, as his little tongue flicks on my clit speeded up even faster. A finger penetrated me smoothly. I tensed, then gave way, gasping loudly as he gripped my leg with his spare hand. The finger inside me rubbed my g-spot. My back arched and I screamed. I was beginning to suspect that he didn't regard me as having a proper orgasm unless I screamed, since he wouldn't stop until I did.

We lay in each other's arms for a while in the morning sunshine, enjoying the touch before rinsing off, eating and heading off the hill. A couple of hours walking out, much of it along farm tracks, gave us the chance to work out ground rules. We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses on each other's bus tickets. He left me at Perth, he heading south on a local service, me east for Dundee.

R

Hi sweetheart.

In case you can't read my handwriting from the bus, my email address is in the header file. The postie's just delivered my next bit of work. It looks like it'll take me a bit less time than planned. The downside of that is less money. The upside is more time for other things....

For some reason I found a pair of knickers in my rucksack. They're not mine. <G> The gods alone know how they got there, given that you weren't wearing any. I'll wash them, and hold them for ransom – say agreeing to meet me for dinner (Dutch) next week? Do you know of any decent veggie restaurants in Dundee?

Love.

N

A note to my readers:

I hope you enjoyed reading that. Neil is based very loosely on me. It's not my real name. Any more detail than that is for me to know and for you to find out! Rachael is a figment of my depraved imagination.

There are quotes from the following of my favourite writers:

Ralph Waldo Emerson – To Eva (1847, I think)

Emerson – Nature (1836)

Emerson – Essays: Circles (1841)

Aldo Leopold - A Sand County Almanac (1949)

Henry David Thoreau – A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (she slightly misquotes, but she is doing it from memory!) (1849)

(What is it about Concord that has meant it's had so much influence on history, literature and culture?)

Most of these are in my public library, but I had to rake them out of the stacks.

If you look at a map of Scotland you won't find the place this story is set in. You will, if you use decent maps, find several hills calledMeall Garbh (there's a Scots and Gaelic glossary below). I picked that name because it's a common hill name not too far from where I live and in the Grampian Range, an area that's big enough and sufficiently poorly defined that all but the most experienced users of the Scottish hills can easily pretend it's somewhere they haven't been. You will find Dundee on the east coast; Perth is about 20 miles up the river Tay. The Cruachan Ridge, a great one-day walk (or half-day run!) for the moderately experienced and a nightmare for those with vertigo, is close to the west coast, about 15 miles east of Oban.

To a point I hope it's encouraged you to find beauty in other places than the body of a lover, and the descriptions of places in this story are based closely on what I have seen in the Scottish mountains. However, the hills of Scotland, and for the same reasons hills anywhere else, are dangerous. A reference to death and accident in this story is derived directly from a report from the Mountain Rescue services and has not been changed. You should not go into the hills, even in summer, without knowing what you're doing (or having at least one person with you who does) and carrying proper kit. Scotland's mountains, while incredibly beautiful, are routinely lethal, even in summer.

On the subject of language, this story is written in English. It contains a few words of Gaelic, and several more in my first language, Scots. Neither of my characters would use the English equivalents of these words.

Here's a free guide to the Scots and Gaelic used in this story.

'Aonach Eagach' (Gaelic, roughly pronounced phonetically). An exceptionally lethal ridge above Glencoe.

'Bealach' (this one is from the Gaelic, pronounced Bye-lach, with a lot of local variation) – the low point on a ridge between two summits (known in geology as a col).

'The Bru' is a Scots colloquialism (usually derogatory) for the Employment Service or more collectively the Department for Social (in)Security, now part of the Department of Work and Pensions, also known as 'the social' in some areas.

A burn (Scots) is a stream (not, as I saw on one American web site, a hillside).

The Cobbler – also called Ben Arthur, a notoriously easy hill to climb in the Lomond National Park. Attracts more than its fair share of idiots due to its accessibility. One or two of those idiots do get cragfast.

Cruachan (Scots, from Gaelic), both a mountain and the name of the ridge on which it sits, is pronounced phonetically. Ben Cruachan translates roughly as 'stack hill'. 'Ben', and its various gender-specific equivalents, is one of many (approaching 100, counting diminutives) words found in Scotland for a hill or mountain.

Ladhar Bheinn (a real mountain in Knoydart, one of Scotland's remotest areas; also Gaelic, pronounced La'ar-ven) translates as 'hoof hill'

'Lochan' – a pond or tarn – related to 'loch' (lake) with –an, which is a Scots and Gaelic diminutive. Literally, 'small lake'.

Meall Garbh (Gaelic pronounced my-owl garve) is 'Rough Hill'; Meall is 'hill'.

'Piece' – in this context – is a sandwich. A source of infinite confusion for American guests, who frequently don't know that we have an absolute small firearms ban.

'The skits' is diarrhoea.

I always appreciate constructive feedback, especially where it comes to characterisation and dialogue, areas where I think my storytelling is weakest.