Culra Bothy

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Culra bothy

He pushed the door open. A hard morning at work; afternoon train to Dalwhinnie; the long walk in to the bothy as October sunset lit the way by Loch Ericht. The additional weight of the firewood strapped to his rucsac at the last trees well over a mile back. He was exhausted.

The place was cold and empty, but the last occupants had left it tidy. There was even some dry part-burnt sitka in the fireplace. He organised his gear, got the fire going, and stepped outside to piss, surveying the louring mass of hills to the west in rapidly-fading gloaming. There was a tiny flash of light up below Beallach Dubh. He’d have company tonight. He was equivocal about that: he’d come for solitude. But he’d never met an unpleasant person in the wilderness at this time of year, so knew it’d be OK, whoever it was.

Flurries of snow cooled his face. He turned inside. It’d take the stravaiger an hour or so to get here. He wasn’t hungry yet. Settled on the bench with headtorch and novel. Sipped a can of Export.

He glanced up after a while. The flurries outside were driving snow now, in total blackness. Checked his watch, forty-five minutes since he’d seen the torchlight. Whoever was coming might miss the bridge to the bothy in the blizzard. He rolled a fag, poured a dram, took his torch and whistle, stepped outside.

At the door, in the lea of the wind, he was glad he wasn’t out in this. Knew now that whistle and torch were useless against the blizzard, at anything more than a few yards.

He had no choice. Finished the fag, gulped the whisky, returned inside. Put more wood on the fire, donned his outerwear, strapped on crampons, headed out with the walking-axe. He noted the rock formation opposite the turnoff, snow-covered now, but the shape was distinctive enough. Headed south-west on the just-visible track, head-torch bobbing, driving snow in the beam. Step-counting with his beads: he needed to know exactly how far he’d gone, so he could look out for the rock formation on the return.

He saw the light through the blizzard after about thirty minutes, moving slowly. Increased his pace, and saw the approaching figure, staggering. Short, maybe stocky, hard to tell through goretex outerwear. The figure was sitting when he reached it.

He touched the waterlogged hood over the bowed head and a face moved into the beam of his head torch. Jesus, was it a woman? He crouched before her, thrusting his right gauntlet forward:

-Well met! I’m Sandy. There’s a good fire in the bothy, just half-an-hour to go. How’re you doing?

A soaked woollen mitt took his hand, and the face smiled at him, iced eyebrows:

-Jesus, so glad you’re here Sandy. I’m wabbit, not sure I can manage another half-hour in this. – at least she managed a smile – I’m Marie.

-How far have you come today lass?

-Loch Ossian Hostel. Did Ben Alder on the way.

A quick casino oyna calculation. A long hard day in October. Feisty woman.

-When did you last rest?

-Summit of the beallach was my last proper rest.

-Sorry, all I brought from the bothy is chocolate, and a wee bottle of water. Want some?

-I… think I have some soup left.

-Even better, something hot.

He stood and eased the rucsac from her back:

-Where’s the soup?

-Side pocket, right one.

He found the flask, opened it, held it to her. She drained it. Colour slowly infused her pale face:

-Eat some chocolate, instant energy.

-Ta.

Presently Marie seemed a bit revived:

-You ready for the last slog lass?

At her nod he hefted the rucsac onto his back. Fuck, almost as heavy as his, over fifty pounds. But he was rested and he’d manage fine. He extended his hand, drew her up from the lea of the boulder, into the force of the driving snow:

-Would you please not talk to me as we walk Marie, I’m pace-counting. It’s the only way we’ll find the bothy in this.

It took forty-five minutes of stumbling through soft deepening snow, but they made it.

*****

In the light of candles and fire, for the first time he was able to see her properly as she stripped her soaking outerwear. Her clothing under the goretex was wet too. He heated soup, carefully tended the fire, dry wood first, damp on top. In minutes it was ablaze again, flames licking up. She looked down at the sodden clothing remaining on her:

-Um, Sandy – teeth chattering – I need to get out of these. D’you mind?

-Course you do. I’ll stand outside whilst you change. Then we’ll dry your clothes.

-Oh! No, you don’t need to go outside, please. I… I don’t mind you seeing me. I’m not ashamed of my body or anything. And if you hadn’t found me, I don’t like to think what might have happened. I was at the end of my endurance.

-I’m going outside. Just let me roll a fag first. And pour myself a dram.

-Um, I think the soup’s hot now.

-Help yourself, you need warmed up.

He moved outside. The blizzard had abated a wee bit, there was a glimmer where the moon might be. He smoked and sipped the dram, wondering about Marie. What a strange encounter in this wilderness spot. Presently the door opened and her head keeked out:

-Safe for you to come in now man. Your broth’s very good, know it’s home-made. How did you know I’m veggie though? You need some too.

He laughed as he entered:

-I didn’t know you’re veggie, but I always make veggie broth, for my daughters. But first, we need to hang your clothes out to dry.

He fished twine and pegs from his rucsac, strung it from hooks before the fire:

-I’ll let you get on with it.

He sat back with his bowl of soup as she hung her clothes. Even her bra and panties were wet. canlı casino He thought about his food supply. There were the makings of a veggie dinner there. He set about preparing it, pasta and his own still-frozen sauce. He needed water for the pasta, went outside to the burn. She’d helped herself to a can of Export when he returned:

-Hope you don’t mind?

She’d stopped shivering. Alcohol was OK now:

-It’s there to be drunk lassie. Now, tell me about yourself whilst I organise dinner?

-I’m from the Fort, born and bred. Uni at Aberdeen, biology. But I missed home. I was lucky to get a teaching job at Lochaber High, so I’m back there now.

He reflected. Fort William was the centre of some of the best mountaineering in Europe:

-So you grew up on the hill?

-Aye, mum’s daft for the hill, she infected me with her passion. But this is my first big solo outing. Knew I had to do it, for myself. – she shivered – But maybe October wasn’t the best time. I should’ve known better.

-Well, you’re safe now.

He looked at the pots, tested pasta and sauce:

-Dinner’s ready now.

There was only one bench at the raised slab which served as a table, so they sat together. She was an attractive woman, short and stocky, but he knew it was muscle, not fat. She was maybe twenty years younger than him. When he’d served, he sat closer to her than he needed to, and she didn’t shift. He was glad. He wasn’t going to make an overt pass at her, but he was interested, wanted her to be aware of that. Over the meal they shared more of themselves. Warmed to each other as human beings. But he could see she was exhausted, her eyelids fluttering:

-Marie, you need to rest now. Time for you to snuggle into your sleeping-bag?

-Um, aye. Need that. – she glanced around – So, what are the sleeping arrangements?

There were two raised concrete slabs on either side of the room:

-You have one luxury bed, I have the other.

-Ohh.

Was there disappointment in her voice? She whispered:

-And the toilet?

He glanced at her, surprised:

-You haven’t stayed in a bothy before?

-Nope, first time ever, only seen them, used them for lunch in the rain. Always stayed in hostels and bunkhouses.

-There’s no toilet. You go outside, and downstream of the bothy. We need the burn for cooking and drinking. And um… if you need to shit, there’s a spade in the outhouse. Again, go downstream. Dig and cover it well.

-Oh.

She glanced out of the window. Driving snow again. She only needed to pee, didn’t want to go outside. He followed her eyes:

-Take my goretex if you want, it’s drier than yours.

-Um, Sandy…

His brow cocked. He was beginning to enjoy her discomfort. Felt a twinge at his groin.

-Aye?

She nodded toward a bucket in the corner:

-I… I really don’t want to kaçak casino go out into that. D’you mind if I pee in the bucket? In here, I mean?

He appraised her carefully. Concerned eyes, slightly downcast, unable to meet his. He lifted her head, looked into her:

-I don’t mind at all. But there’s one condition.

Her eyes flickered nervously in his:

-Aye?

-You face toward me as you piss, and I watch.

-Ohh…

-Do it. For you, and for me.

There was a new edge to Sandy’s voice. She knew he was a decent human being. He couldn’t have expected to find a woman when he went out in the blizzard to find her. She glanced at the window, looked Sandy straight in the eye. Said nothing. Drew the bucket before the fire. Looked in his face as she lowered her trackie-bottoms and panties. Shivered in fear and excitement as she bared herself before him. Something made her open her thighs and deliberately expose her cunt to him. His eyes widened. She crouched, tried to pee.

Nothing. She groaned, tightened her muscles.

Still nothing:

-Sandy… sorry. Maybe it’s best if you look away, I just can’t…

-No. I know something better.

He moved before her. Lowered his hand. She trembled as it touched her cunt, stroked there. He crouched, still touching her, whispered in her ear:

-Pissss, sweet Marie. Pissssss for Sandy.

The fingers stroked her inexorably. He cherished her cunt, soft and caring:

-Piss for me. Pisssssssssss…

Fuck. Suddenly it rushed upon her, a trickle, then a gush. His finger didn’t stop stroking her clit. She was aware of her piss splashing over his hand, onto the concrete floor. The bucket filled a bit. She gasped as the last rivulet issued from her urethra and stood shakily, his hand still on her.

-Move forward and open your legs wide.

She obeyed. He knelt, mouth and tongue replacing his fingers, sucking and teasing. She had to grab his shoulders to prevent herself from falling with the intensity of sensation. His tongue and lips were relentless, teasing, drying her, causing a flood of different moisture. When his fingers entered her as teeth fastened on her clit, she was gone. She bucked, shuddered, and his face was wet from her ejaculation.

He allowed her to recover, stood:

-We have to fuck. Strip.

-Yes.

He zipped the two sleeping-bags together whilst she undressed, then lost his clothes as she slid in, concrete below, barely shielded by the bedmats. He joined her in the bags:

-Never in the world have I dreamed of this happening. I want you, mountainwoman.

They kissed for the first time in their unorthodox intimacy. Her muscular thigh slid between his as she moved on top of him:

-Think you’re in control, just cos you saved me from the blizzard?

-Take me wildcat, I’m yours.

-I think this is a shared one, no hunter, no prey.

-Aye, we’re equals lassie. We need to share a fuck. Who’s on top the first time?

-You first. Please.

They squirmed round and he prepared to mount her:

-You sure?

-Take me.

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