Downriver Adventure

Downriver Adventure

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


A schoolteacher seeking adventure-plus-romanance goes downriver camping with a divorcee. They are strangers.


A schoolteacher seeking adventure-plus-romanance goes downriver camping with a divorcee. They are strangers.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Downriver Adventure

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 13, 2017

Reads: 873

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 13, 2017



Chapter 1

Schoolteacher Stacy Reid, combing her mousy brown hair, wished she had blonde hair, big breasts, a wide smile and an outgoing personality.

She sighed and thought if she’d had possessed those assets, by now she would have been married for several years and all three children would be at such interesting stages in their early childhood development.

The end-of-year break for school students and teaching staff was looming.

Two years ago, she’d thought of going down the generally languid Martha River with a professionally-led ‘paddle ‘n’ camping group’. The adventure tour took five days. But instead she went on the pleadings of a girlfriend to a popular high country resort, with them both seeking adventure and romance.

Stacy found plenty of adventure and little romance.

Last year she was about to book the river adventure when the same girlfriend suggested they go on an eight-day cruise ship voyage round several islands in the South Pacific.

They left the departure port wildly happy but within hours Stacy rarely was in the company of Mandy because the first night at sea. Mandy shifted into a cabin with two guys who clearly had no interested in Stacy. Well, Mandy was quite a babe.

Stacy lower her standards and on the final night at sea had sex with a married guy when he returned to their table at the cabaret after carrying his embarrassingly drunk wife to their cabin.

The other couples at their table were dancing, leaving Stacy sitting alone and feeling unwanted.  She’d been told how easy it was to experience casual sex at sea. Stacy sighed unhappily, co firming she’d never believed those stories.

The returning guy had said in surprise, “Where’s every one?”

Instead of saying “Dancing”, she gave him her best smile and invited him to dance with her. On the crowded dance floor, she used the feeling of courage or recklessness, boosted by the cocktail and wine she’s consumed earlier in the evening, and pressed into the guy. That staggered her to learn just how easy it was to switch on his motor.

Three minutes later he was whispering into her ear that he’d never seen inside her cabin and she said without shame, in that case they should go for a quick inspection. Afterwards she felt she was such a slut but nonetheless knew she was happy.

* *

With another summer arriving, Stacy dug through her travel file and found the advertisement for the river kayak tour.

“Yes,” said a male, sounding irritated he’d been disturbed.

“I wish to book for the downriver adventure.”

“I don’t operate it any longer. I went bust two years ago, and now concentrate on raising my cattle.”

“But I want to take the trip.”

“Tough. No one else does.”

“I’ll pay you to take me downriver as a private charter.”

“Let me think about that. How many of you are there?”

“Just me?”

“Are you kidding me; all that effort for peanuts? Sorry lady, go shopping instead.”

“I’ll pay you two thousand dollars in cash so there won’t be a paper trail for the taxman to find.”

She could almost hear him rubbing his chin and then, after leaving her hanging, he said, “Three thousand.”


He laughed easily and said, “Very well, two thousand.”

Stacy, happy that she would soon experience her dream adventure, filed her notes and diarized the date. Mr Harris, who’d told her to call him Bute, said he didn’t require a deposit and because she taught young kids, he trusted her. He recalled loving his teachers in his early years at school.

A week before leaving for Rockland, Stacy had her hair styled and highlighted and purchased the things required for the river trip she didn’t possess. She thought he ought to have supplied the life-vest but he said the receivers had taken everything belonging to his tourism river adventure company.

Sweet Stacy made no effort to question herself about whether she trusted the man she’d be with alone for four days and three nights on a wilderness river.

However, closer to the time Stacy twice came close to cancelling her booking, thinking she was taking a risk going downriver alone with a man she didn’t know or had been recommended as trustworthy and if he didn’t give her trouble, what about his wife?

On both occasions, she decided to think about it more, but when she began saying to her parents, friends and colleagues and former best friend Mandy who was now a devotee of group sex action during holidays, that this summer she would visit regional cities and shop and visit museums, Stacy knew she’d be going downriver just with HIM.

*  *

Thirty-four-year-old Stacy arrived at the small settlement of Rockland early and had coffee at the riverside cafe after storing her new blue Ford in the compound behind Bateman and Son’s motor vehicle repair shop. Mr Bateman senior would drive down to West’s Crossing in four days’ time in his Nissan Patrol to bring the paddlers back along with their kayak.

“How did you get Bute to get off his backside to take you on an escorted trip down river?”

“I spoke nicely to him Mr Bateman.”

“Oh, that will be it. He must have thought you were a sexy looker,” he said, looking at Stacy with disinterest.

Well, Bute Harris would be disappointed, she gritted. Why did men focus on blondes when the really sexy women walked around incognito? Asshole had probably been married three times and now would probably be bored with his octogenarian life.

A beautiful teenager who looked no older than 16-17, driving a battered red Ford Explorer, drew up in front of the café and she and her father, who looked a little under forty, got out. Stacy looked at him and wished he were her tour guide.

“That’s Bute Harris and Carla his daughter,” the waitress who’d been chatting with Stacy said, arriving with three coffees.

“He phoned through to check you were here and to order coffee. I’ve bought another one for you. Some hunk to sleep with, eh?  Err, I meant to camp with.”

“Yes,” said Stacy, hoping the daughter wouldn’t be coming with them.

Stacy the daughter came in and smiled hugely and asked, “Miss Reid?”

“Yes, but please call me Stacy.”

“Oh, great name. I’m Bute’s daughter Carla. He’s gone to borrow a kayak.”


“Yes, the receivers winding up his former company took everything the company owned or leased.”

“Oh, I see. Please sit. This is your coffee. If I may say so, you are very attractive.”

“I get my looks from my parents. Mom is the novelist Rebecca Steele who is remarried to dad’s best friend, err former best friend.”

“Oh, I wasn’t prying.”

“I know that. Anyway. dad’s off women for life except for me. He adores me… um not in an improper way.”

“No of course not,” Stacy said hastily to indicate her understanding.

They chatted and as Bute arrived lugging the two-person kayak and placing it near the slipway Carla said, “I’m really glad you have pulled dad out of his shell.”


“Yes, he hasn’t been on the river since the collapse of his company after the second dreadful summer we had in a row and people cancelled their bookings and he’d had the payments to make on his new boatshed, that is now this café, and his fifteen new kayaks. He had the farm income as security for a loan to keep going, but gave up when my mother announced she was divorcing us.”


“A divorce affects children too. There was no way would I go to live with that jerk who was banging her.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Stacy said hastily.

“Well he was speaking of you when he said, ‘The bitch wouldn’t take no for an answer’. I guess you are used to dealing with stubborn kids?”

“Yes, and that’s a smart comment Carla.”

“Thanks. I owe that to my parents. Dad loves the river. This will be like a honeymoon for him, back to the Martha he’s loved ever since his dad first took him on to the river.”

“Omigod, what a wonderful theme for a novel.”

“Yes. and it has just been published, written by my mother. I have a copy in the truck for you. You will have plenty of time to read because the legs to the campsites are not overly long. Um, don’t be surprised if dad looks startled when he sees you. He was expecting, and I quote, ‘A dried-up schoolteacher with a tight thin mouth and floppy tits’.”

“Omigod,” Stacy shrieked and Carla laughed loudly as well.

“Hi, care to share…?”

Bute stopped mid-sentence and stared at Stacy.

Carla said smoothly, “It was a girly joke dad about men and menstruation. You find that kind of joke revolting.”

“Damn right. Well at least my client has a humour. Um Miss Reid for some reason it hadn’t occurred to me you’d be a young woman. Carla can come with us as chaperone.”

“Why would I need a chaperone and what has happened to my name Stacy?”

“I just don’t know. I’m kinda caught by surprise, that’s all. It’s no requirement to have a chaperone um Stacy come with us.”

“Right that’s settled. Have your coffee before it gets any colder.”

“Yes, ma’am I mean Stacy.”

Stacy looked at Carla and winked. The daughter appeared to be almost exploding with suppressed laughter.

*  *

The woman Bute was now saddled with, had called him on the weekend when Carla had gone to the city with her mother for three days because Rebecca wanted to buy her daughter some clothes for the summer. It was a big occasion because the two females had not been together since the announcement of the divorce.

Bute was bored being alone and after the approach of the damn caller who was so persistent, he finally accepted he really should return to the river again much like Carla had done in breaking the self-imposed barrier to reunite with her mother.

He’d said moodily had she done any river kayaking and the woman had said yes here in New Zealand and in Australia, North America, England, Viet Nam and sea kayaking in Fiji and Tahiti.

Jesus, that had really surprised him.

God, she sounded a tough bitch and that almost made him reject her but then she rang his bell, saying she just adored being on the water and loved gliding between bush-clad banks.

He knew the feeling, oh did he know that feeling that seemed to reach the soul and at that moment he accepted just how much he’d missed those experiences. He said okay and tried to screw her for another thousand but she bumped him.

Bute was astonished when he saw her.

The woman was several years younger than he was and instead of a thin tight mouth he’d predicted, she had a small mouth but with full lips, giving her an almost perpetual pout. And no, the tits were not hanging. They were trussed up and looked pert, rather a great stack in fact.

The two women did their best to embarrass him and get him tongue-tied and they almost succeeded. He got through that and with the chaperone issue rejected and there was nothing left to do but to get on with it.

“Right Stacy, time to prepare for pushing off. Carla will check with you through your kit to ensure you have everything you need and nothing you won’t need because we don’t wish to be overloaded. We also have to pack the camping gear and some food. We eat evenings at farm houses with families and that’s included in your payment. Please give the five hundred bucks to Carla.”

“Here’s the agreed two thousand Carla. I do not require charity.”

“Thanks Stacy. That will pay for a new weighing machine for the top cattle yard. That will save lugging up the machine from the home yards.”

“Oh, I’m so happy about that, the payment going to a useful project and to a worthy man Bute. You are much younger than I’d expected and I haven’t found you at all uncivil, a tobacco chewer and smelly.”

Carla shrieked with laughter and even Bute had a good laugh.

With everything aboard, including the book that Carla had placed in a waterproof bag, they were ready to go.

Carla kissed Stacy and said have a great adventure and when she kissed her father she pushed something into his back pocket.

“I don’t need to carry money,” he said.

“They are condoms,” she whispered.

“Carla!” he gurgled and she pranced away giggling.

“Bye Stacy, bye Bute,” called the waitress, waving to them.

“Keep one eye on Carla for me please Belinda,” Bute yelled and she waved yes.

Bute sat in the rear cockpit and controlled the rudder of the sleek 16-foot long yellow craft and was design for sea cruising but Bute said it was flexible and they had only easy rapids to pass through.

“Okay you paddle us out,” he called and watched to check on Stacy’s ability.

Before they even reached midstream, he knew her technique was good and he’d already noted she was in excellent physical condition. She’d said she cycled for fitness.

“How are your foot rests?”

“Fine. How is your confidence in me?”

“Fine,” he said and they both raised a hand in a wave as Carla tooted the horn as she prepared to drive off.

It was 11:15 and there was little paddling to do because they were being swept along by good water flow of around 3 knots.


“The Martha River was named after the wife of an early explorer in this region, William B. Castles,” Bute said. “Castle’s Peak that everyone miscalls Castle Peak that we’ll see in half an hour is named after the seafarer who jumped ship and passed this way, drawing rudimentary maps as he went. He settled on the far coast, befriending a group of Maori living in a pa beside a saltwater lagoon.”

“What happened to him?”

“He stayed there and handed his maps to a missionary who passed through that way. Billy lived until his was into his late fifties, having been married to a Maori woman by another missionary and the couple had several children. That’s about all that is recorded of him. He was very secretive about his past.”

“This is so lovely,” she said, dropping a hand into the water.

“It is,” Bute said, looking at the huge array of greenery that would be called jungle in some countries.

At 12:30, they hauled the kayak up on to a muddy bank and in the natural clearing sat on native grasses and had coffee from a thermos and ate brownies.

“Carla made these,” he said, crunching one of the cookies. “She’s good at everything she does. I’m so proud of her and know her mother is too.”

That comment did not seem to require a reply.

“This is so beautiful,” Stacy said.

Bute murmured he was thinking she was cute, and on impulse, leaned over and kissed her cheek and she confused him, murmuring, “So beautiful.”


Bute began to have wild thoughts and guessed that’s what she’d intended. He waited for her to make a move but she sat still with her eyes shut, listening to the sounds of the lapping water and of the birds that included tui, fantail and even a bellbird.

His heart rate dropped, extinguishing any thoughts of sex, and he too became melancholy until he said, “We must push on because we made a late start. Our hostess will be expecting us before nightfall.”

“Yes, and I must say I thought this was a bit of a nothing place to stop but once I tuned into the orchestra of birds I sat enchanted. It was magical and thanks.”

“Think nothing of it. There is plenty to be enchanted by on this journey. I can arrange for you to sleep in the farmhouses if you wish.”

“God no, I’m on a river adventure and wish to camp. Will I sleep with you?”

Bute almost missed digging his paddle into the water.

“If that’s what you wish to happen?”


“I’ll think about it.”

“Bastard!” Stacy screamed without malice and that shout echoed off the cliff on their right. She missed a paddling stroke to flick water back at him off her paddle.

He chucked and yelled, “Bitch” and that too echoed off the eroded bank where a slip as a result of torrential rain some years ago, had swept the lush vegetation into the river and that deposit had been spread downstream by floods.

*  *

They erected the tent at the top of the river bank, clear of flash floods that could be triggered by downpours on the mountain ranges some fifty miles upstream. They then went over to the quadbike the farmer had left for them.

“Do you know how to handle these things?”

Stacy wondered if he was issuing a challenge to test her usefulness or was he just being friendly and keen to allow her to sample greater adventure.

“Yes, we each had one on an overland adventure in Florida.”

“Then you take the controls. I’ll direct from the backseat.”

As they set off Stacy smiled. Her fearless guide had decided to hold on by grasping her breasts instead of holding on around her waist. The bastard had planned to take advantage of her while showing who was in charge. She almost blurted they should stop and get on with it.

They went up and over the rise and there on the plateau was an extensive farm-house.

“Oh darling,” screamed the farmer’s wife who looked not much older than Stacy. She charged and vaulted over the gate to where Stacy had parked behind another quad-bike and the woman kissed the standing Bute almost immodestly and right in front of her husband who had strolled to the fence from the house; he looked about Bute’s age.

God, thought Stacy, had these guys experienced group sex?”

“Stacy, this is my younger sister Charlotte and this is my pal Bruce Withers since school days.  They farm almost 300 Angus breeding cows here and the progeny is sold to farmers to fatten on better land down on the old flood plains.”

“Hi Stacy,” Charlotte said giving her a strong hug. “I can’t believe my brother is making this trip with just one client. Before my marriage, I used to also guide and sometimes the two of us had twenty or more people on the water and that was hard work, I’m telling you. Bute said you’d bullied him and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s so wonderful you’ve managed to lure him back on the water.”

Stacy said she was glad her request to go downriver had been accepted, that she’d kept the advert she’d once had intending responding to but then something else came up.

“That’s lucky for us you kept that ad. I was worried the bastard was becoming a hermit although that would have been difficult with my niece, his motor-mouth daughter around. It’s a pity you didn’t meet Carla. She is so beautiful and such a wonderful young person it seems impossible this tough-nut could have a daughter like her.”

“Oh, Bruce I did meet Carla at the café and doubtless she possesses some of her father’s finer attributes and I know where she gets her beauty from. I’ve roomed with Rebecca twice at writer’s seminars.”

“You know Rebecca?” Bute gaped. “You didn’t tell me. Did you tell Carla?”

“No and I accepted Rebecca’s new novel from Carla, still without saying I knew the author, because that didn’t seem necessary and anyway I haven’t read the book.”

“Then you are an author,” Bruce said and the three of them waited for the answer.

“Yes, but you probably have not heard of me because I write novels in the historical genre, usually set in the eighteenth century, more often than not during the 1760s. Rebecca writes modern romance that attracts a far larger market and authors of that genre can make really good money from royalties.”

“May I tell Carla you are an author?” Bute asked.

“I imagine that won’t be necessary because while we are on this trip, Carla is likely to tell her mother my name and Rebecca will say that she knows me.”

“Oh yeah.”

“This talk is making me dry,” Bruce said. “Everyone up on to the back terrace and drinks will be served and we’ll eventually watch the sunset.”

They had a lovely time together.

Charlotte served roast lamb with all the trimmings followed by crusty apple pie with thick cream, obviously not standard supermarket cream.

“What amazing tasting cream; how do you get it way out here?”

“We have a lactating bull,” Bruce said and Stacy in all seriousness challenge that claim and said it was simply not credible.

Smiling amid the laughter of the males, Charlotte explained they had a Jersey house cow.

“Forgive my ignorance, I’m a townie,” Stacy joked and was applauded.

“You are so sweet Stacy,” Charlotte said, patting the dinner guest on the back of her hand and said to her brother, “Please stay the night; we’re enjoying the company of you two.”

Stacy caught Bute’s eye and nodded and he accepted the invitation, saying they could stay as late as 11:00 in the morning and arrive at Millers’ Flat in time to set up camp before night-fall.

Charlotte’s excitement was obvious, alarming Stacy who thought their hostess was bi-sexual. But that was another misunderstanding.

In the kitchen, as the two females loaded the dish-washer, Charlotte said, “I’m so happy to have someone around my age to converse with. In remote areas like this, the older teenagers head off for the towns or cities to study or travel overseas and then only return to visit briefly. Most of the females within a bull’s roar from here are 50-plus.”

“Omigod, you poor soul.”

“It’s okay as our two children at boarding school come home and once a fortnight I go to Brighton to stay for two or three nights where my parents have retired. Brighton is a small rural town on the plains just before the Martha flows into the larger and slower running Brummell River that drains Lake Brummell at the foot of the Brummell Mountain Range.”

“Seven of my girlfriends from high school still live in the district and so I catch up with them for chatterbox catch-up.”

“Chatterbox catch-up? That’s perhaps a little demeaning for some females to accept but it’s a novel expression to me.”

“Perhaps it is and I believe I made it up, but who knows? It also appealed to Charlotte my former sister-in-law who used it in one of her novels a couple of years back.”

“I find it very interesting that you are bravely travelling alone with my brother or would you have done so with any male for that matter?”

“Is this between just you and me?”

“Yes Stacy, I promise not to repeat what I hear.”

“I’m thirty-four and haven’t yet found a male who appears compatible to me. The problem seems I’m too fussy, or too outspoken, or not physically attractive enough or am not sexy enough for them or, to be frank, they feel I’m not worth the time of day for them or it’s something I’m unaware of.”

“Right Stacy, I believe I understand where you are coming from. Do you think you were too conditional about having sex with guys when you were young and when you realized your girlfriends were marrying and yet you had no one in sight you may have been guilty of trying too hard to impress suitable suitors?”

“Omigod, I have no idea. I admit having been keen to have random sex but I also admit of being a person who always takes the longer-term view and, um, conditional view.”

Charlotte nodded sympathetically and said kindly, “And thereby making yourself appear a little too complicated for many men?”


“No, that was a question, not a conclusion.”

“But you may have hit the nail on the head?”

“Um, possibility, but I have to say I have no idea. I believe I just expressed that comment as, um, a brain spurt.”


“Look, we can talk more later but we should get back to the men before they become immersed in solving the economy or world politics or the future of farming for individuals in the face of corporate investment. Um, have you and Bute got anything going between you yet?”


“Oh. Let me put it another way, do you want me to put you in the same room tonight – Lisa’s room has two single beds?”

“I-I… what do you think your brother would say if you asked him about room-sharing with me?”

“I have no idea. I made the suggestion to him when you went to the bathroom and Bruce had gone out to yell at the barking dogs. Bute looked confused and said I should asked him something easier to answer. That told me you two weren’t doing it yet.”

“That’s true Charlotte but perhaps you could tell him before we leave here that I’m hoping he well nail me, the sooner the better. He appears to be still hurting from the divorce and I don’t wish to unsettle him.”

“You won’t, not in respect to having sex. I don’t think you are very aware about how men feel about sexual opportunity but enough of this; I’ll pass on your explicit message?”


“Whoops, I meant hopeful. God, Stacy, you are so sweet but my advice is when the moment comes whisper to Bute you are hanging out for sex.”

“But he might run a mile.”

“Ha!” Charlotte exclaimed, and they both went to the door giggling.


The men went to their bedrooms just after 11:30, Bute sleeping in his nephew’s room, and the women chatted until almost asleep in their chairs and they went to their bedrooms a little over two hours later.


Chapter 2

The visitors were waved off mid-morning next day after breaking their unused campsite and packing the dismantled items into the kayak that had plenty of stowage. Place two places to lash larger items topside. Once they were in the main flow mid-river, Stacy called back to Bute the aft-paddler with steerage duties, “I had such a lovely time. They are such a hospitable couple.”

“Yeah, and my sister can talk the leg off an iron pot.”

“She obviously enjoys company.”

“Yeah, she should have married a guy who likes yapping. Bruce is even a bit more phlegmatic that I am.”

“Perhaps he is far more so. I have found you to be excellent to converse with. But on the river, we both seem to shut-down at appropriate times to maximize enjoyment in silence of the pristine beauty between the river, the riverbanks and the sky.”

“Nicely expressed,”


They drifted on with a bit of hurry-up paddling at times on the order of Bruce to catch up with their schedule. Stacy thought he appeared to know where they were by just looking for riverbank features and then probably checked his watch and did the calculations against the river map in his memory to know where they should be at that time, having done a few hundreds of downriver trips when he operated commercially.

Eventually, he said if they ate lunch while continuing to paddle lightly they would be at the approximate position they would have been had they started at 7:30.”

“Aw, I’ll miss my lunchtime peck, err kiss.”

After a small pause, he said softly, “Am I welcome to kiss you.”

“Oooh, yes.”

“Um, even a sexy kiss.”

“Oh, yes absolutely (she took in deeper breath) and even much more.”

This time. the pause was a little longer and then he said laconically, “How much more?”

“All the way, surely, less you have lost your passion to fuck?”

“No way!” he almost yelled. “Remove your life-vest and pull up your top and bra to allow me to fiddle but you resume paddling.”

“Aye, aye captain,” Tracy said, her voice a little shaky, and she prepared for a breast massage.

When Tracy felt his spit on his two fingers as they landed on her nipple and it immediately began to respond and she knew Bute had become positive about having sex with her.

She paddled on while her continued on playing with her after breathing across the side of her neck saying, “These boobs are great” she sighed, knowing her panties now had a wet spot as her body was humming.

Then as his interest in playing seemed to subside, she took one hand off the double-paddle and rubbed his head that lay on her shoulder at the nape and whispered, “I’m ready to go ashore for a quickie.”

“Are you sure?”

“My cunt is throbbing.”

“Christ,” was all that he said but immediately the rudder turned them toward the nearest river-bank.

They stepped ashore but he swore and had to return to tie the kayak to a tree, to prevent it working off the shoal and floating away.

He returned and found Stacy with her boobs out, her skirt bunched up and waving her panties at him.

Bute grinned, unzipped and reached into his back pocket and produced a condom.

“I didn’t expect we’d start with a quickie,” he said.

“It’s a surprise to me too,” Stacy said, opening her raised knees and said, “There it is Mister, go for it.”

Bute fumbled in his haste to break open the packaging and then when rolling on the condom.

“Are you wet?”


He dropped to his knees and pushed straight in and they both gasped, as she was rather tight.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, sounding concerned.

“Don’t worry; it’s just under-used.”

His laughed was smothered by their lips coming together and then tongues met in a lively encounter.

“Wow,” Bute said, tying a knot in the condom and moving to pull up his jeans.

“Yes wow,” Stacy said and Bute, who’d watch her say that said quizzically, “But you wanted to say more.”

“Yes, and good spotting. I want to say I knew I was keen for you to have sex with me almost since the moment we met.”

“Feeling sorry for me because of the divorce, huh?” he said, grabbing Stacy’s outstretched hand and pulling her to her feet effortlessly.

“Not at all,” Stacy countered. “To set the record straight, I actually thought now there’s a guy I’d really like to ravish me.”

“Oh, but we haven’t done that.”

“No, not yet.”

Brute rubbed his chin and said carefully, “Does that mean you want more.”

“Yes, and many times but with less haste and lasting longer. You may try to fuck me legless if that appeals.”

Brute grabbed her shoulders and staring at her said was that a challenge.

“No, just consider it a generous invitation.”

He laughed and said they’d better get going, because Ma Aiken was a bit of a stickler about people arriving on time.

“She and her husband and their two married sons run a huge sheep farm. Vera is about to hit seventy and handles the men like she’s the boss.”

As they set off in the kayak, Bute said, “Where did you learn to engage in sex robustly?”

“Everyone knows country girls enter adulthood well-conditioned for sex.”

He laughed and said was she passing herself off as a country girl.

“I grew up in the Wairarapa on a beef stud farm until I left for teacher’s training college and with me being the last of the brood to leave home, dad and mom sold the farm and retired.”

“My god, your father isn’t Tommy Reid by any chance, is he?”

“That’s the one. Yes, our stud Kinross Angus was quite well-known in those days.”

“And right you are, my old man purchased three two-year-old bulls at a Kinross Stud auction years back when he and my late grandfather decided to gradually replace Herefords with Angus. Those three bulls became the foundation sires of the cattle I farm today.”

“Well fancy that and it comes from living in a small country.”

“Agreed and I went with dad to the clearing auction, I guess the first year you were teacher training and dad said it was up to me to pick a good ’un and I paid more than I should have for Kinross Golden…”

“Kinross Golden Bay Echo,” Stacy said. “I named him after the summer cottage we had in Golden Bay at the top of the South Island and where I used to shout into a cave in a cliff and would hear the echo of my shout. Is he…?”

“No, he was overcome by old age and died in the bull paddock one night.”

“His mother died attempting to give birth because he was such a big calf. The vet cut him out and said it was doubtful he would live and dad asked me to take care of him. The calf was poorly and I kept him in our laundry, feeding him medicated milk in a baby’s bottle and on the fifth morning I went to him I found him standing away from the basket, rather shakily, but standing and from that day he began gaining weight and never looked back. Dad later told me he fetched the second highest price at the dispersal auction.”

“Christ what a story. Don’t panic Stacy but I must say it’s as if we were destined to meet.”

“I’m comfortable with that thought.”

“Right, the river narrows here and we drop quite steady and there are rapids to negotiate, but the water is at a good height so we shouldn’t experience trouble if I concentrate on steerage.  Just hold your paddle ready and dig deep and hard if I shout left or I shout right to accelerate the change of direction. I’ll call stop when the bow is in the right angle.”

When emerging from a gorge where it required concentration to avoid the biggest threat of submerged rocks not far below the surface, just as Stacy leant back a little to relax, Bute said, “My sister told me you’d like full on sex tonight.”

He broke the silence with, “Well?”

“Is that what she said?”

“More or less. She actually said you might be hopeful of engaging with me in sex tonight.”

“That sounds rather more like Charlotte.”


“I was rather hopeful that I might be fucked last night but it just didn’t work out.”

“Do you use the f-word a lot?”


“Then why use it now?”

“In the hope that it will continue to make you keen about fucking me.”

“I’ve been keen from the moment I first saw you and my daughter responded similarly, saying, “God dad, just look at her; she appears perfect for you.”

They drifted on and finally: “What do you think Carla meant?”

“I know what she meant because I asked her. She said you reminded her physically of her mother but looked softer and more reliable that her mother had proven to be.”

“How could Carla know whether or not I was softer in personality or more reliable than Rebecca?”

“She wouldn’t have a clue about your behaviour, although having been told by me after I accepted your booking would have registered with her. Like her mother, Carla’s a romantic and is aware that after completing high school next year she’ll be off to university, leaving me living alone.”

“Are accommodating housekeepers difficult to hire up your way?”

They laughed at the appropriateness of Stacy’s humour.

Bute had said the previous day he and Carla lived 22 miles from the nearest town large enough to have a high school, bank and resident doctor and vets who services were restrict to small animals. The nearest vets with full services, including cattle and horses, were based 43 miles away at a small town called Brighton.

“Did your parents previously own the farm where you reside or just manage it?”

“The owned it and they left some money in the farm and retired to Brighton. I know own the farm outright with the help of a mortgage.”

“And along the line a young vet from Brighton called and noticed Charlotte and…” Ah no, that theory doesn’t work out.”

“No, it doesn’t Stacy, but it was a reasonable long shot. After completing high school, Charlotte went to Brighton to live with our parents and before long was employed as one of the receptionists at the town’s veterinary group practice. Bruce, with whom we stayed with last night, as farm manager used to go to Brighton for his parents, who have since passed away, to pick up farm and household supplies and hand across cheques for services rendered.”

“One day there was this new receptionist at the vet’s, my sister Charlotte, whom Bruce had never met because Charlotte and I went to different boarding schools. Bruce said ‘Hi beautiful, how is it I’ve never met you before this?’ and Charlotte snapped because she wasn’t in the habit of meeting morons.”

“That subdued Bruce but when he handed across my cheque she said asked, “What are you doing with my brother’s cheque?” Bruce said he’d visited me the previous day up at the Awatuna Valley and she said, what is your name? He said Bruce Withers and Charlotte leaped up and kissed him on the mouth and said her brother had spoken to her and her parents for years, saying Bruce was the best pal a bloke could have?”

My sister told my pal he’d become almost a legend to her and she bursts into tears. And thus began the prelude to their wedding.”

“What a lovely romance and did Rebecca write that into a novel?”

Bute said eventually and added they had about a mile to go to the campsite.

“Oh god, I suppose we’ll have to establish camp first?”

He replied it seemed sensible to give priority to that.

She hesitated before saying, “It’s been hot on the river; I probably could benefit from a shower.”

“We could take a dip in the river.”

“Oh, of course.”

He challenged, “You sound nervous.”

“Well you mentioned our hostess was rather bossy.”

“Just speak nicely, don’t challenge her and don’t use the work fuck and you’ll be regarded as a lovely young woman.”

“Oh. Then I look forward to our sojourn until I can get you down to the campsite and place your hands on my tits.”

“Christ Stacy, really watch yourself if Vera asks why are you travelling alone with me?”

Stacy laughed and said perhaps she could say she had a guardian angel or she had been kidnapped and was being held hostage or that she was simply used to having sex with anyone she met.

“Stacy no, a thousand times no. Just ignore the question and ask why did they continue farming sheep, what with wool prices being so low.”

“Got it. Just trust me to handle it admirably.”


They landed, hauled the kayak up and tied it to a tree and then undressed and entered the water.

“That’s enough to remove sweat and staleness,” Bute said. “You put up the tent and I’ll go and tell Vera we have arrived.”

“You won’t have to tell her that.”

Puzzled, Bute asked why not.

“Because as soon as she sees you she’ll know we have arrived.”

“Oh god,” Bute said, looking flustered.  “This evening will be a disaster.”


Vera and husband Tom greeted Stacy warmly when Bute pushed her forward, both kissing the visitor.

“I’m astonished that a pretty and unmarried young woman like you would travel four days downriver and spend nights sleeping in the same tiny tent with him.”

“There’s no problem Vera. I made him promise he must not touch me without me consent and I accepted his assurance.”

“You trusted him? Omigod, if I travelled downriver with Bute Harris I would be unable to keep my hands off him, even at my age.”

“I also told him I had an incurable venereal disease.”

Vera took a step backwards, caught Stacy’s wink, and stepped forward again and said sombrely, “Oh my poor darling, my mother always said never sit on the seat of public toilets.”

“Yes, and I wished I’d heeded my mother’s advice,” Stacy said.

The two females walked into the farmhouse obviously giggling.”

Tom clasped Bute by the shoulders and said sympathetically, “You’re in the pits pal. Should I suggest to one of my two step-daughters to help you find a toilet?”

“No, it’s okay Tom. You’ll know that divorcees become quite used to the power of their own hand.”

“Oh yeah, good one Bute. I feel better just having one of my daughters-in-law to jerk you off. She could do that at the table as the tablecloth hangs low.”

“What, and have Vera guess what your daughter-in-law is up to and immediately suspects who suggested it?”

“Oh mate, you’re right. I cancel all offers forthwith.”

*  *

As Bute steered the quadbike downhill to the campsite, with Stacy arms under his light jacket rubbing his nipple through his open shirtfront, Bute said he’d called Carla on the landline at the house because there was no cell phone coverage on the river until they got closer to less hilly and more open country.

“She said she was fine and had a girlfriend staying with her and they and my farmhand had checked all the stock today and everything appeared fine except Eric had to fix the water-supply cut-off valve mechanism to one of the troughs where the 2-year-old steers are grazing. But all was fine because the other trough some distance away had served the stock adequately.”

“That’d excellent and great that Carla was fine and had company,” Stacy purred and she kissed Bute behind his left ear.

“She asked were we having sex yet.”

“Oh Christ,” Stacy yelled, almost falling from the bike.

“You know Carla is a country girl,” he laughed and she joined in the laughter although her laughter appeared to be rather hollow.

“Get used to it,” Bute urged. “She’s been brought up to be open and not hold back.”

“Indeed,” his companion muttered.

Bute said as if musing, “Perhaps Carla would benefit if you return with me to the farm and spend some of your holiday time in that rural setting. Carla could enjoy having an older woman around her for a while to act like um a finishing school for her. What I’m trying to said you could be influencing her with some of the finer points young girls approaching womanhood need to know about.”

“Christ Bute, that’s rather impressive thinking for a man living in almost a bachelor’s existence. Are you sure the motive of what you have just expressed is 100% for Carla’s benefit rather than a ruse to try to get an extension to having pussy on tap?”

“Oh no, I swear… um… as I was thinking about the idea to benefit Carla the thought crossed my mind that I could have real quality time with you as well.”

“You actually thought that in that genteel manner?”

The steering of the bike wobbled and Bute said unevenly, “The truth is I thought when you were not directly engaging with Carla, you and I could be fucking ourselves stupid.”

“Now that does sound like a male’s thinking,” Stacy said, in a smiley voice.

They stopped at the campsite and Bute said, “Stacy, I apologise for my lusty thinking and…”

“Shut up squirming. Why would I disapprove of your under-current thinking when I know I don’t get nearly enough sex consistently? I regard your thinking about Carla’s needs as admirable and your undertone thoughts as typical of any male thinking of how to get his rocks off deviously but certainly in no way being creepy or filthy.”

Bute sat silently as if not knowing what to say.

“Say something Bute,” Stacy commanded, stepping off the pillion seat.

“I-I admire your thinking and your conclusions,” Bute said submissively.

“That’s enough Bute but thanks. Your problem is probably due to the absence of long periods of downtime in talking with adult women, that’s all. And please don’t stop thinking about chasing after pussy because that answers my great need in life… well perhaps occasionally but not too infrequently."

She stooped to enter the tiny tent and for a moment Bute appeared as if confused about following her or perhaps was wondering was she really interested in sex.

But in the headlight of the bike as Stacy entered into the tent, he saw her pull  down her jeans and waggle her bare butt in his direction.

Bute was off the bike and after her in a flash, only to skid to a halt and rush back to the bike to turn off the light.

“Where are you Bute?” came the call.

Back to the tent he rushed, under the dim light of a rising quarter moon, grinning as he unbuckled his belt.


The End

© Copyright 2020 Grigor McGregor. All rights reserved.


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