A Hill Runner , A Hill Walker Ch. 01

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The story is set in Scotland. I have not tried to write the whole story in Scot’s dialect however have incorporated a few common words:

Sassenach = what most Scots call the English. Its original meaning in Gaelic is lowlander i.e. what the highlanders would call the southern Scots, as well as those from other countries. Some say it’s a corruption of Saxon. (Southern Scots were never Gaelic speakers).

Numpty = a fool or stupid person often said in a light hearted way.

Haugh = mist or fog

Sir Walter Scott = highly successful author who championed Scottish culture in the early 19th Century. His books were often a highly romanticised version of events.

Saltire = the Scottish flag

Ben = is a prefix to many place names and simply means hill or mountain.

Chapter 1

I was in the kitchen when I heard Carol returning from her run and put the kettle on to reheat. Turning as she came through the door from the boot and coat room into the large low ceiling open-plan area which took up most of the ground floor. Carol collapsed onto the sofa which faced the kitchen area. Sweaty, still breathing hard, her flat abdomen showing below the black sports bra, her strong muscular, but not fat legs almost all on display below her skimpy running shorts. This was all she was wearing as she had taken off her running shoes and socks at the door. Her black hair pulled back and tied in a loose pony tail, dark intelligent eyes and perfect skin shone.

“Coffee,” she said, still breathing a little hard.

I made coffee for us both. As I turned once again to face her, one coffee in each hand, Carol placed her hands between her shoulders and moved them down till they were over her breasts. Watching me intently as she rubbed her breasts and pinched her nipples through the bra. Her large nipples responded and despite the constraints of the bra could be seen quite clearly pushing the material out. I stood still watching her.

“You know what I was thinking about as I ran,” She asked.


“I’d rather show you.”

Carol stood and slowly brought her hands down to the tops of her shorts, building the suspense. Then in a quick movement she pulled both shorts and panties down. Sat down again, kicked both free of her ankles and opened her legs.

“Ow,” I said as I spilt hot coffee on my hand.

“Put the coffee down, unless you want me to stop,” she said.

That was the last thing I wanted and did as bid.

Continuing to watch me closely Carol opened her legs wide to show those big dark lips, and completely shaven area around. There was a slight smile as she looked at me looking at her cunt. Her labia were large and protruded significantly outwards, currently set firmly together. I knew not to move at this point. Carol smacked the lips lightly a half dozen times with one hand whilst never taking her eyes off me. Using the same hand to nip the lips together and rub them from the protruding sides. I was always surprised at how rough she could be with those lips. I could not imagine using my hands on her in the same way.

After one final hard squeeze she moved her hands away. The effect never lost its erotic beauty for me as her lips opened wide, like a flower blooming with the film sped up. The view was as attractive to me as the most glorious flower to a bee, showing her lighter coloured glistening cunt in the middle of the petals formed by her lips.

“I love how you look at me. Don’t change that.” Carol whispered, and crooked her finger commanding me to approach.

I took a few steps closer and she put her palm up commanding me to stop. She said, “Get that big fat cock out.”

I unzipped my fly and got it out. My prick was already quite hard but I pumped it a few times before taking my hand away, and it stood almost horizontal at this point.

“Remove your top Carol, so I can admire all of your magnificence, and my cock will get even bigger and harder.”

“You worship my breasts, don’t you Andy?”

“I worship all of you. Your lovely cunt lips, your cunt, your breasts, your legs, arms, face, hair, you – inside and out.”

“Good answer. Strip for me Andy. When you are completely naked I will take my top off. Then we will discuss what I want next.”

I did as requested, having to fight the impulse to tear at my clothes and be seen rushing like a teenager. I had never been lucky enough to have anyone like Carol before. Naked and standing straight, my cock rose above the horizontal, now bigger and fatter. Carol looked at my cock then removed her top fluidly. Her tits – no breasts, it sounds best when describing such beauty came into view bouncing a little. I gazed upon the dark areola tipping those breasts that came out from her muscled body firm and proud. In the centre of the areola, were large nipples already thick and standing out waiting for action. We both enjoyed when I teased her nipples. illegal bahis Amongst my admittedly limited number of sexual partners I had never known a woman who liked so much breast play for so long. Nor for that matter a woman with labia that were so protruding and we both had fun playing with those also. In fact I don’t think there are many women in the world like Carol, period.

“Come suckle at my breast, tongue my cunt, do your thing with my clit. If you do it well enough for long enough I might stick your big prick right up my young juicy cunt then ride you for all you’re worth.”

Carol is a woman who knows exactly what she wants and has developed a desire to speak it out loud. Commanding me to enact these desires seemed to increase her desire and sexual energy yet further. I was still amazed she chose me to satisfy those demands.

As I closed the distance I saw her cunt sparkling wet after her vigorous manipulation and her long nipples engorged and so desirable. I knelt before her and Carol leant forward holding a breast and offering it to my mouth. My tongue snaked our and tongued the nipple rapidly. After a minute Carol fed me her other breast pushing it more firmly to my mouth indicating she wanted more than the end of the nipple tongued and I obliged.

“Yes, more.”

Carol pulled my head against her breast for some more seconds and then pushed my head away.

“Not bad, Andy. Now you’ve had you treat with my breasts move on down and make me cum hard”

Only a few weeks ago, though it seemed a lifetime ago, I had been content with my quiet life, walking, mountaineering, living alone.


The first time I met Carol was in the Soldiers Retreat, the busiest place in Ben Dronach all credit to the young owners. They had taken a tired dark place and let in the light, serving good food, cask ales and whisky all day long. Sally, had poured me a pint of my favourite, before I had even reached the bar. I thanked her and we chatted for a while about our day and the good weather. After further discussion I ordered my meal.

Looking round for a seat I saw Julie was waving to me, sat with her husband, John, and a girl I did not know. I went over asking how they were doing. I was introduced to Carol who had been staying with them. Julie insisted I took a seat brushing aside my protests of intruding.

Carol appeared early 20s, making her only a bit more than half my age. She seemed average height, had long very dark hair tied back, somewhat olive skin, dark eyes, perhaps Asian descent? Julie explained that Carol was from Glasgow originally but had just finished an economics degree at Aberdeen Uni. Whilst still waiting to hear on job applications she was here to train for a hill running event. I remember, wondering if Carol had some beefy physique to do that sort of thing. I could not tell because she was wearing a loose blue track-suit top with the saltire over the left breast and jogging bottoms. What made her memorable was the animation in her face as she talked about running, her dark intelligent eyes shining with passion.

John and Julie ( known as J&J) had invited her to the village to get in some extra training. As Julie explained this part, the conversation lulled and I sensed a certain tension and sadness. J&J had a main house somewhere on the South coast of England and rented a house near me for two to three months every summer. Julie explained that John’s heart operation had been brought forward so they were going to have to leave at the weekend. How this was especially a shame as Carol had travelled all the way here to train. I said how sorry I was they all had to leave, wished John a speedy recovery and sorry for Carol missing out on her training.

John took up the story of his heart problems meanwhile Julie was making some facial gestures seemingly signalling to me. Had I done something impolite? I tried to signal back that I didn’t understand though I don’t have a woman’s ability at such silent skills.

As John finished speaking Julie staring intently at me, “So, Andy, how’s that huge house of yours doing? Not fancy turning it into a boarding house or letting a room at least?”

Having not understood her gestures Julie had resorted to the less subtle. Carol had clearly caught on and was keeping her head still, listening, whilst John was oblivious to his wife’s idea. A lot of thoughts went through my mind. I had grown accustomed to living alone. I wasn’t that close to J&J. I did not know Carol at all and Julie did not know me well yet seemed keen to push this young girl into my house. What would people say? In truth I didn’t care that much about what they said, In fact anything that shocked those puritanical hypocrits living next door would be pleasing. However that was not a reason for sharing my house.

I was on the spot, and Carol must be too. Thinking quickly on how I could avoid the immediate confrontation I asked “Carol, ever taken Old Jock’s trail to Loch Hichy? Can’t promise to illegal bahis siteleri run it with you but I’d love to show you the route. It’s beautiful and at six or seven clicks would think it an ideal few minutes training when you run it faster another day?”

Six or seven kilometres on steep gradients and a path no more than a sheep trail would take even the best well over the hour and took me well over two, however the table enjoyed the humour. Julie signalled her strong approval and Carol indicated her understanding as she explained that she had heard of the trail but was unsure as to where it started from.

Until five years ago I’d never lived alone. Since then I’d got used to it, the habit of having the big house set out for my sole convenience. Knowing where everything was, walking through the house and sometimes the garden naked, doing what I wanted when I wanted. Did I want this interrupted? I loved seeing the passion, enthusiasm and ambition that shone out from Carol. Also true, she did not seem the type to be spilling nail varnish on the table, fussing over the latest celebrity diet, or picture of Harry and Megan. Even so, she would inevitably be disruptive and change things. What did I have in common with some health sports freak half my age that ran up mountains for Christ’s sake?

Next day aft meeting Carol Andy woke early, as normal, catching up with news on the radio in bed and then showering. Wondering through the house naked to the kitchen to fix an espresso and a slice of toast before getting dressed. He gave a small smile when wondering what a shock for Carol if she were able to see me now. Anyway I had decided, hadn’t I, that I would persuade her how bad Julie’s idea was, much as I’d like to help? So it was, that I nearly missed out on all of this.


I knelt before Carol, placed my hands behind her legs and pulled her forward so her cunt was hanging over the front edge of the sofa. I could see her cunt already wet. She really got off on this exhibitionism and dirty talk and her enjoyment was my enjoyment and a change in my life that I could never have expected in my wildest, wettest dreams.

I started gently lapping on the big lips. It did not surprise me at all when Carol took hold of a handful of hair at the back of my head after a minute or two and used it to push my head hard forward into her depths. Her unsubtle message for me to be harder. As requested I tongued more vigorously and then alternating by sucking and nibbling on her large labia. Carol pushed her cunt into me. It was time to move to her accessible clit. I used my fingers first on the sides of the hood gently touching and pressing. I loved how her clit reacted, moving out, like a little creature blinking into the light. I used my tongue again, slowly building up speed. Carol wrapped her feet around my back and used her strong muscles to force me closer still. I lapped vigorously and could feel her orgasm approaching. After a moment I then bit down and she came, trembling and shaking for long moments. I lapped away swallowing the lovely additional breakfast drink and helping her ride the full orgasm.


The fates appeared against us when we met the day after our meeting in the pub.

I thought it would help showing Carol the route on my OS Map ap on my phone. Carol started a lecture on not to trust phones because the battery may run out or the signal lost like I was some schoolboy on the mountain for the first time . My annoyance on display I retorted the map was downloaded so did not need a signal and that I had a spare battery and paper map version in my backpack. Not that we weren’t going anywhere I hadn’t been a hundred times before. Apart from which, I added that I happened to be a member of the mountain rescue team.

I was in fact a member of the ‘b’ team that rescued the Sassenachs that wondered on to Ben in their sandals and tee-shirts and got lost in the haugh. The ‘A’ team were the ones who did the real mountain rescuing.

Carol, was at that age when she looks all grown up sexy woman. Just occasionally you saw signs of the girl she had recently been. In her embarrassment she looked girlish, vulnerable and ready to turn and go back to J&Js house. Maybe it was that look that made me realise I was being a condescending prick. For once, I did the right thing or I’d not be fucking this wonderful woman almost every day. I reached out and said quietly, mouth close to her ear, “Hey. Sorry I was a patronising prick there. I did not mean to. It’s just I get worked up about safety and the fact others have to take risks rescuing the numpties. “

I let go and she looked at me, “What are you apologising for. It’s me that was rude. I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t. I know you’re not and I shouldn’t have said what I did. So let’s start again. Nice weather for a walk, isn’t it?” I said with a grin.

“The best. So where exactly do we pick up the trail and who was Jock?”. She rejoined canlı bahis siteleri grinning back at me and we were good.

I explained how the original start had been built over by houses and the next part was now underneath the new village leisure complex. As we detoured around these obstacles I explained that many traditional routes used by the local folk had become romanticised by Sir Walter Scott in his books and made into stories of smuggling, secret distilleries or as Prince Charlie’s secret escape path from the English. This made worse more recently by the Outlander TV series. The path we were waking was by no means the only Jocks Trail in Scotland. At the end of the day, I explained, they were just paths, sometimes taken by the locals to avoid the tolls that existed on many of the main roads and bridges.

The day was sunny with a little wind. Carol had on a long loose Scotland rugby shirt that hing over shorts with socks and running shoes. She was not the bulky person that I had feared she might be when we were in the pub. On the other hand she was not super thin like some of the track runners you see. You could see her legs were muscular, and certainly not twigs, but in no way fat. Her body similarly was neither skinny nor fat with very womanly curves in all the right places. Womanly curves included breasts that made the rugby shirt tight in this one area only. I scolded myself mildly for thinking about this woman’s tits, she had to be at least 15 years younger than me — it was not as if I was likely to ever see them was it? (Its nice to be wrong sometimes).

During the walk I coaxed a good part of Carol’s life story from her. Though shy initially once I had got her speaking about her upbringing and life she became more confident in telling her story. Carol’s grandad on her father’s side was Pakistani and grandmother Scottish. Her Grandmother died when Carol was very young. Her mother had come over from Pakistan after an arranged marriage with her dad. She explained how she’d been shy as a girl and caught between cultures. Her father was westernised in his thinking wanting her to get the best education and follow her dreams. Most of the rest of her family thought her ambition should be to marry young, and to who she was told to marry in Pakistan. Then to bring her husband back to Scotland where he could join the family business and she could produce many children for him. This led on to how / why a city lass had taken up running. It had started as an escape and with track events and half marathons. It was not till university she started hill running.

Before I knew it we were two clicks on, almost half way around the circuit with a beautiful view of the loch. I saw Carol looking around. I gestured forward 100yds to a large rock.

“They say the local Covenanters wrote out their plans on that rock. Me, I find it makes an excellent luncheon table with the perfect view.”

When we arrived at the rock I opened my backpack and pulled out sandwiches for two. Placing them on the rock and gestured Carol to take some. I saw her embarrassed, blushing again. I smiled saying, “I guessed with your running you would not be in the habit of packing lunch. Dig in, please.”

Her face was quite strong, reasonably large nose, eyes that were brown set in quite large ovals, strong cheek bones. The skin a light olive. Intelligence shone out. She was not your delicate womanly type, but she looked very feminine and sexy. ‘Here you go again’, I told myself that day , far too young for you to lust after.

As we ate and chatted it suddenly seemed very important for Carol to explain more about why hill running was such an important thing.

“You probably think me daft, or maybe even disrespectful to a religion but I’ve been reading a bit about buddhism recently. The form of meditation so many of the books talk about as a first step is the one where you study all the parts of the body — you know the one? You start thinking about your breathing, then one by one you focus on all the parts – your head, your arms, your fingers. When I read this, I wanted to yell, yes! I’ve known this since I first started running aged 9. It’s exactly that. I feel all the parts of my body, individually, but also a oneness, a completeness when I run, which I don’t feel just sitting.”

At this point she lost her confidence and blushed then saying at little more than a whisper. ” I’ve never told anyone else that. I suppose that all seems pretty stupid and girlish to you.”

Looking at her, I replied, “Carol, Lass, when you talk about running then in your eyes there is a window and I can see right through to your soul so I know it’s true and sincere. That passion is a gift, use it, persevere with it, or you will regret it for all your life.”

After the conversation on the Covenanters Rock I knew that if Carol wanted the room she would have it. I could not possibly stand in the way of her passion, that would be just wrong. I’d just have to adjust and not walk around naked in the mornings. My thoughts were pure and unselfish. I was getting ahead of myself I realised, after all would she seriously want to house with some man so many years her senior. If she wanted to stay here she could probably find someone nearer her own age with a room.

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