Friday. On the Fell together.
They showered later than usual the next morning, washing each other as they stood close together, laughing and playing; kissing, touching, feeling much more relaxed with each other after a hectic night in which they'd shared each other’s bodies, though feeling as though they would never able to get close enough to each other no matter what they did.
The need for haste in anything had faded, along with the feeling of frustration they had both been feeling over the last few days.
She shaved him as he stood in front of her holding her breasts, and even moving between her legs again, but this time she flexed her hips enough to get him started into her body, feeling him pulling her close to hold himself into her there, supporting her against him by holding across her buttocks as she smoothed the razor over his face, feeling everything; liking everything he did with her.
He would soon firm up again being where he was and getting the stimulation that her body, and him being in her, provided him.
He had never been so closely or so efficiently shaved, without a single hair being able to escape her close scrutiny, even under the driving water of the shower.
It was too soon for him to come again, but he wanted to be where he was; in her, whether he came or not. He had been the same way most of the night, with the separating only briefly as he dropped from her, exhausted, spent.
They dried each other, taking their time about it. Then each dressed the other, as though they were suddenly helpless and unable to do it for themselves. That was almost as exciting for them as the game of the previous evening. The day was beginning well.
Eight o’clock came, and went, and her mother did not call, so they made their plans for the day. They would be away all day, doing whatever they chose to do.
“What do you have planned for us today, Peter?” She didn’t really need to ask. Do you have anything to finish off? I don’t.”
“We can just go for a walk, explore, ramble, be together and enjoy each other’s company. I would like to revisit a few key places where we met and got to know each other, and that I want to see again to fix them in my mind in a different way, for when we leave here. We can retrace our footsteps. We should also bring our cameras.”
She smiled, suspecting what he had in mind for them.
“With me meeting you as I did up there, I will never see the Fell through the same eyes again.”
Nor would she.
“Now, I cannot imagine anywhere up there, without you in that place with me. I want to make love to you everywhere we were together. I want to bring those memories to life and put some meaning into them.”
“Then let us do that, Peter. There is nothing to stop us now. We can visit each of those places that are important to us and make other memories (as he 'visited' her) we can capture on camera just as candidly as we dare.” She knew what he intended and grinned at him. “For the family album, of course. The album no one will see, other than for you and me.”
He liked that idea. “We can take that shoulder pack of yours Sheila. It will hold the lunches, water, and our cameras, and I can strap the tripod onto the outside of it. You have a timer on your camera?”
“That and a lot more too.”
They left the house and headed up the road back to the Fell. It was hot already, and the forecast had been that it would become even hotter.
There were a few places they could cross the river where it widened its course, and there were boulders close enough together to step from one to the other to get across.
He wanted to see the Fell from a distance, and capture a panoramic shot of it from the opposite side of the valley. An aerial photograph would be even better, and he would get one of those when he got chance, and annotate that too with little red dots, as the memories of what happened in those places was recorded.
After they’d crossed the river and walked about half a mile from it, they began to follow a smaller stream along the same direction they were walking, soon coming to a small hawthorn tree; old, straggly, and weather-beaten, hanging over the stream, giving some shade.
The sheep frequented this place too, considering the bits of fleece caught up in the bark and on the sharp thorns of that lone tree, with not another tree for at least a mile.
The sheep used this place to drink and to eat, with the surrounding emerald-green grass, grazed short. Their visits over the centuries, with help from the stream, had undercut the bank, leaving a dusty, shaded area that would be out of the wind. But there was no wind today. It was quiet with almost no breeze, and hot; a typical late summer day, and the heat was oppressive and almost unbearable, even at that early hour.
She and Peter rested, to catch their breath as he dug out the water and they started on the nuts and raisins.
They sat back against the bank, their minds going over much the same course, looking at each other, sensing what the other was thinking.
“We can cool our feet in the water. There’s a good flow, and a bit of a basin there. If it gets too hot, we can sit in the water.”
That would only be the start of what they both knew would happen between them.
They took off their boots and socks, dangling their feet in the shallow water. It was not as cold as the river, but still felt good. She leaned against him and they kissed as his arm went around her.
He began to undo her shirt.
“We could make love here, Sheila. It’s sheltered, and we could lie under the bank on the sandy soil, out of sight of the world.”
She agreed wordlessly, responding by just turning to him, kissing him and starting on his shirt too. She wanted the same thing.
“We could start a record of our memories here, Peter. I can set up my camera on a tripod on the far side, to cover this small area; the stream and the bank, and capture a frame every ten seconds of everything we do. I suppose we had better not be shy about anything, or be too conscious of the camera. I can always delete what we don’t approve of.”
He got to his feet and unstrapped the tripod
“I’ll set this up as you program your camera.”
Once they’d set it up and got it started photographing everything they did, they stripped off, helping each other, kissing and touching as they progressed.
They laid their shirts on the soil by the stream and kissed, conscious of the camera recording them for posterity, undressing each other, then standing together naked.
He caressed her everywhere as they kissed, their breathing becoming more strained. He picked her up, feeling her legs go around him, knelt with her in his arms and laid her down on their shirts. He was already between her legs. She helped him, taking hold of him and guiding him toward her and into her before he came, which would not be long now from what she had learned about him over the last few days.
Careful as to how he did it, still cautious of hurting her in his eagerness, he pushed slowly into her, knowing that it was still difficult for her as she tried to open herself more for him, then adjusted her hips and legs to make it easier for him as he moved slowly, but in an increasingly urgent way as deep as he could go into her.
The camera captured everything with a discreet blink of its bloodshot eye every ten seconds, as he consciously tried to slow himself down, though that was almost impossible to do. He tried to delay that final moment for as long as he could.
When he could hold back no longer; building up to that final delicious agony, he stiffened up in her with a cry, his back arching as he pushed into her again and again; coming.
He couldn’t slow that last part down as he had come, but the earlier shots could be run together to make a jerky kind of movie as from the nineteen-twenties, leaving nothing for anyone to guess at about what they had certainly done.
She pulled his head down to her and kissed him, feeling a corresponding release in herself as his hot breath flooded over her.
She laughed as she hugged him to her and played with his ears and hair, not wanting him to come out of her until he had to, which might not be for another ten or fifteen minutes, or he shrank enough that he just slipped out of her as he had done throughout the night.
She was learning so much than she’d ever known before or dreamed about.
“It’s becoming easier for me, every time we do this, Peter.” She stroked his head above her and pulled him down to kiss her.
He didn’t have to say anything. He couldn’t. He was out of breath, still moving in her, reluctant to let such wonderful sensations escape before he was ready to see them go.
As they relaxed together, with her comfortable beneath him on their shirts, she could not help but notice the usual contrails of the jet flying to the north outlined against the sky above them.
With them doing what they were doing in naked abandon several thousand feet below the passengers flying that corridor, they would be just visible to the people in that plane, if they were looking, but with no details to be seen.
Before they dressed, she squatted against the bank and let him drain from her body as he watched her, fascinated by everything she did; then she peed. It was all a reflexive response to what they had done, that she almost had no control of.
Still out of breath and overheated, they moved to stand in the stream as she used her hands to pour water over that still semi-erect part of his to wash him off, remembering his words about him not being put away wet (wet from her), and he did the same between her legs, being very gentle about it.
They sat in the stream together after that, cooling themselves, splashing water over each other again, to cool their bodies down, bringing shirts, shorts and underwear in with them to get wet so that they would walk for the next mile or so in some comfort in that blistering heat, before their clothing dried out again.
“I’m going to put on only my shirt, Peter, and nothing else, or I’ll be too hot. I’ve never seen anyone but you out here. My shirt is long enough to cover me, and if we see anyone, I can stop and dress while I hide behind you.”
She sat on the two-foot high bank as he helped her on with her socks and boots. She leaned back, taking her weight on her arms. He paused after each sock, to kiss her and her breasts and naval; even to move forward as her shirt fell away from her down her arms, and to go into her again, as she helped him, though she was still moist and open enough for him to go into her easily, smiling at his understandable eagerness with her. He repeated all of that again for each of her boots. They might never leave here before they needed to make love again. Neither of them cared. There was no one out here to see them. He wouldn’t be able to come again so soon, but what did it matter? It was just nice to feel him going into her every chance he got.
She would leave her shirt open just for him to admire her and to touch her breasts or caress her, whenever, and wherever he wanted to. She watched him dress and even helped him, playing with him in turn before she let him put himself away.
“Where to now, Peter?”
“The river bank where I left you that day, when I went for your bike. That was another good memory. We can bring it to life in a different way this time as we make another memory.
He picked up the tripod and camera together, after turning it off.
“I was sad to leave you on the river-bank that day as I walked away. I wished I hadn’t. I could have carried you home, or we could have made love there for the first time. I wanted to.”
“I know you would have carried me, Peter, but I would have been too heavy. I didn’t want you to go either. We knew how we felt about each other by then, but we needed to talk about it, and I wasn’t ready for what just happened between us to take place then, even though I knew you were attentive to me and in a strange way, wanting to put your hand into my partially open shirt and touch my breasts. I shocked myself when I realized that that was what I wanted you to do. I opened it deliberately for you to do that."
He smiled at her. "I wish I'd known that, then."
"I thought of nothing else but you the entire time you were gone, and watched for you coming back for me. I'd even opened up another few buttons for you by then.”