"Ok, let's go." My friend Anne shouldered her backpack, turned and set off down the path.
Her husband Jack turned to me, smiled, and with a wave of his hand said, "After you."
And off we went, a happy threesome, for a day walking around some of the hills and valleys of south Wales. It was summer, sunny, and we all seemed excited and invigorated. If I'd known at the start of the day just how happy a threesome we were going to become later, I would have been even more excited. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The part of the story where we're all lying naked together in the sun, spent and satisfied, having all climaxed several times? Well, that comes soon enough, but let's start the story back at the beginning...
So with Anne in front and Jack behind me, we took the path out of the village and set off along the riverside. Anne had chosen a walk up from the village where we were staying, to see some of the nearby waterfalls, valleys and hills in the Brecon Beacons. It was all new to me, but reminded me a bit of parts of my Norwegian homeland. It was late summer, and mid-week, so we expected to see almost no-one until we returned to the village.
I'd been in Britain for just a few months. I'd grown unhappy at home, and when my boss mentioned the chance for a secondment to the London office, I'd jumped at it. So far, I was loving living in London, so much bigger and livelier than my home town. Then Anne, an old friend who I'd kept in touch with after a school exchange a decade ago, suggested I should see a bit more of the country outside London. So here I was, having arrived in a typically British pretty pub hotel the night before, with her and her husband Jack. I enjoyed all kinds of outdoor activities, so hiking, biking, swimming or anything physical attracted me; they seemed to like the same things.
It was a surprisingly hot day, so we were all dressed in shorts and t-shirts. I was quite envious of Anne's tall, willowy and athletic figure in front of me. I'm blond and curvy and I tend to get more attention than makes me happy, but in small groups with fewer people to see, I like to take the opportunity to show off my figure a bit.
It was lovely countryside, and we chatted about various things as we walked upstream along the riverbank for an hour or so. It was easy walking and pleasant company, and my mind started to wander over the past a little. My relationship with my old boyfriend had ended around 12 months before, which in the end I wasn't unhappy about. Over the preceding year or two I'd noticed (thanks to his insistence that we watch porn together) that I found women's bodies as attractive as men's, and after a period of confusion and soul-searching, I realised I was either gay or bi. I experimented for a while, but the lesbian scene in Norway was a bit limited and the bi community too small for me to ever get to grips with my identity and find partners. I ended up alone and unhappy, which is why the move to London had been so attractive. I hadn't met anyone special yet, but the place made me feel so much freer.
We walked on. As the land rose, the river became fast-moving with occasional cascades, and we began to get views of the hills in the distance. The path then led into a narrow gorge and we came to a waterfall, not huge but still three times as tall as me, with a lot of water coming over.
"Looks like a path leads behind it." Jack said, and walked towards the narrow gap between the water and rock wall behind. Sure enough, with a bit of a shower from the spray, he vanished behind the waterfall.
"Come on in." he shouted. "Room for three!"
We followed, first Anne, then me. There was not much space behind, no real cave or anything. But enough that we could stand together, looking out through the falling water, hidden.
"Beautiful" said Anne, gazing through the falling cascade to the sunlit river. She was slightly damp from the drops, and pressed against me, with Jack pressed against her other side. I could feel Anne's breasts against my shoulder, but of course her thoughts were on Jack. I felt her hand wrap itself around him. "Shame there's not more room" she said wistfully, and I think she squeezed him a little bit. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him move his hand across her and stroke her tummy, then slowly move up. It was clear what was on their minds.
"I bet they'd find room enough if I wasn't here." I thought. "They'd find a way." I felt a bit envious of both of them really. But they were a couple, heterosexual and in love. I'd best give them some space.
"I will look at the waterfall from the outside now perhaps," I said, trying not to smile, and left them. I wondered how long I'd have to wait. In fact, after some hurried whispering from Anne, she came out moments later looking a little flustered, and Jack a few moments after that. He just looked disappointed, poor man! I took a moment to admire him as he walked towards us -- he was a little taller than Anne, broad shouldered, great legs under his shorts, and a really enticing easy-going smile.
A moment or two later, all of us were looking back at the waterfall.
"Pretty amazing place," said Anne. "What's Norwegian for cave, Karla?"
"Hule."
"Hole?"
"No, hule. 'h-oo-l'." I tried to emphasise the pronunciation.
"I think 'hole' sounds better though..." Then she looked at Jack and said quietly, "you were starting to think about a 'hole' too weren't you, Jack?" I wasn't supposed to be able to hear that, but I could. How funny! Anne seemed slightly restrained and prudish, yet she'd make a bad rude joke like that. I'd come across this type of humour a lot since arriving in London. Jack rolled his eyes and walked on, so I sighed too.
"Ah, the famous bad British sex jokes. I have come to understand them, and your toilet humour, just a little since coming to London. You are a nation of children sometimes..." Most Scandinavians speak almost perfect English, but the culture of our countries is definitely different.
We walked on for a while, and slowly emerged out of the valley toward the hills.
"Look, a kestrel." Anne stopped and pointed at the hovering bird on the hillside ahead. "Do you have those in Norway Karla?"
"I don't know that word," I replied "but we have a bird called a 'falk' which looks quite similar."
"You don't have a bird called a 'fuck'!" sniggered Anne.
"No a 'falk' silly! Fa-ll-k." I tried again, emphasising the L.
"Ok, Ok. Sorry." Anne walked on. Then she stopped again. I could feel her goofy sense of humour gearing up again...
"In England we have a bird called a shag." She grinned.
I didn't know that word. "And this is funny?"
