Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy. Love Mica xx. Yorkshire, England
I like cycling along tow paths. They are flat, usually, and often quiet with just the sounds of birds, farm animals and occasional boaters. Boaters, why would you want to live in a home that rusts that lives on water? I don’t get it, and they are so cramped, I think I am taller than they are wide for goodness sake. But they are quite pretty, the canal boats, and they often have little painted buckets and watering cans on their roofs, painted with flowers, birds, that kind of thing. Do they moor up somewhere and sit and paint them, the way people in Cornwall paint harbours and fishing boats in water colours?
I had just got off my bike and walked, I was at what was known as Bingley three rise locks. A lock is used when a boat needs to go up or down hill, it is just a giant brick container with doors at each end that a boat goes into, the doors shut, it fills with water, the boat obviously floats on the water and so as the water rises, the boat rises, the doors open and the boat floats out at the new higher level. The process is reversed if you are going down. The tow path is just too steep for me to ride as it goes past the locks, it flattens out again at the top side.
Usually the locks are just a pair of doors that raise or lower you a few feet, but here at Bingley they have two separate sets of massive locks that are joined together in a staircase configuration. The smaller set of three locks raises a boat thirty feet, and the bigger set of five locks just beyond raise a boat sixty feet. They are massive feats of engineering and are wonders of the water world. I rested my bike on the fence on the side of the tow path and had a look, a boat was going down. There were official people operating the locks, letting the water in or out, opening and closing gates, and generally controlling movements. As far as I could tell a boater did not need to pay to use the locks, at least I never saw any evidence of payment.
The rush of water through gates and sluices from the full chamber to the low chamber was both impressive and frightening and the locks looked so deep, to me it was like looking down into a cold version of hell. I tired of watching boats moving here and got on my bike and cycled the few hundred yards up to the five rise. My God they were an impressive sight and very intimidating to look at. There was a canal boat, ‘Marie’s Rose’ was its name, moored up at the side of the canal and a woman stood at the rear deck, where I think all steering and engine controls were managed from, and she was looking up at the lock flight.
“Hello,” I said, “are you going up?”
“Yes,” she answered, “but I need a little more courage yet to go through that on my own.”
“Oh crikey, yes I suppose it could be frightening, I mean you have been up the three rise though?”
“Well, yes, and that scared me silly, the speed the chambers fill is amazing, faster than any other locks I have been in, and I have not done that many, I have only had my boat six months.”
“Oh wow, it is a beautiful looking boat, it really is.”
“Oh thank you, I am Marie, and this boat is one I commissioned. I was sick of living in a city, I used to live in Leeds, I can work remotely as long as I can get a signal, and so, had this built to my needs, sold my house and here I am.”
“Oh wow, I so admire you Marie, my name is Josh. I don’t think I would brave enough to live on something made of rustable metal that floats on water.”
“Ah yes, well, there are things that you can do to compensate for that.”
“Wow, I never knew.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Er, yes, but my bike?”
“Stow it in the bow then come aft, the kettle should have boiled by then.”
“Okay Marie, yes, that would be nice.”
I walked my bike to the front of the boat, there was like an open deck area. I lifted my boat in, made sure it wouldn’t scratch her paintwork, and then jumped back ashore, or is it ‘aland’, I wasn’t sure of the correct terminology for a canal boat, and wandered back along the towpath to the back of the boat.
“Hello,” I called to the empty rear deck.
Marie popped her head through a little door opening and smiled.
“Come aboard, kettle won’t be a minute.”
“Thanks,” I responded and did a big step onto the boat, all the time hoping that I wouldn’t fall into the canal. Lord knows what lived in that, it didn’t look like the water at the Cottingley swimming pool, that was for certain.
I realised that there were a small series of steps that led from the back down inside the boat, I descended and found myself in a really nice looking living area. There was a kitchenette, was it a galley on Otele gelen escort a boat I wondered, a seating area with a table, and beyond there was sofa and TV area, and then a door that led to the rest of the boat, bathroom and bedroom I guessed, unless the table turned into a bed, I didn’t know. It kind of looked a bit like a long thin caravan.
“Right Josh, how do you have your tea?”
“Oh, just white please, no sugar.”
“Bag in or out,” she asked.
“Oh in please, I like the way the tea gets slowly stronger.”
“Good answer.” She passed a cross a mug with ‘I’d rather be afloat’ emblazoned on the outside.
As I sat there cradling my mug I thought I could detect a slight sway, but nothing unpleasant.
“How have you found it, living in water, how do you deal with doctors and things? It must be awkward.”
“Oh you would be surprised, doctors and things you just dial 111, explain that you live on a canal boat and they get you an appointment at a near by surgery, all you have to do is get yourself there, thank God for Ubers.”
“Oh yes, I suppose, no car, yes.”
“Some people have bikes that they use to get around, I haven’t got that far yet, I am still thinking of a fold up electric bike.”
“How do you get electric on a boat?”
“Oh I have solar panels and they charge batteries which provide me with 12v or 220v via an inverter. It’s enough to run my washing machine, yeah, it is all very civilised, you just have to think a bit, and not take stuff for granted.”
“I can imagine, well, jolly well done, seriously, I am not being patronising, I am not sure I would be brave enough.”
“I did a lot of research before I took the plunge. I hired a boat for a month and lived on that for a while, that was enough to prove to me that I could do it. It took a year for my boat to be built, they are all built to order, mine was built in Liverpool.”
“And here you are on Yorkshire water.”
She laughed, a good sound. She was blond, slim and that was about all I could tell, her coat was unbuttoned, and she seemed to have a nicely sized bust, and no fat on her tum, and that was about it. Height? No idea, skin colour, pale, that was it. Age, thirty something, I had no idea.
“What about you?”
“Oh I run projects for major organisations, I don’t need to visit sites and can do everything remotely. Days like today where I have no scheduled meetings, I tend to go and ride my bike and just get some air. I was feeling a bit lazy today and a nice flat tow path beckoned.”
“Okay, sounds cool. Listen, do you want to help me through the locks?”
“I have no idea what to do.”
“No worries, I will do all the boat control, the CRT people operate the locks, what I would love for you to do is use the barge pole and keep us as far back as you can from the lock gates. The water can come through the gates at a real fast pace and if you are not careful, can overwhelm the boat.”
Well that didn’t sound hard. “Okay, yes, I would love to help you, yes.”
She took me through the boat, and yes, beyond the seating area was a bathroom and then a bedroom and then a small door onto the front deck where my bike was. On the roof behind was a large boating pole that had a sort of hook on the end.
“You just station yourself here as we go through the locks, use this pole to keep us away from the the lock gates and cill in front.” She said, looking unconcerned. I wasn’t convinced.
“What is a cill?” I asked.
“A cill is a concrete base that the gates ride above. Boats can get caught on the cill and get flooded, so make sure you keep us away from that, that is more of a worry when the lock is emptying. Shouldn’t be an issue for us.”
“Okay, yes, I can do this. I know that sounds like famous last words, but you did the three rise by yourself, I should simply make things easier?”
“Exactly.” Her earlier nervousness and reluctance seemed to have gone, or was she just putting on a brave face for me?
We went back astern to the rear deck. She started her engine, sounded like a diesel, and then turned to me and said, “I am just going to cast off, I’ll do forward first, don’t worry the boat might drift out a bit, and then I will come back astern and do the last rope and jump back aboard.”
“Okay. Right then.”
She jumped ashore and went to the front. I could see she was undoing a rope, which she coiled and threw onto the forward deck. She run hurried back to the rear, did the same with a rope and jumped back on board just as the boat was beginning to move away from the bank.
“See, easy. When I am on my own I hang on to the rear rope, just in case I have to pull Rose back.”
“Ah, but with me here?”
“You could Rus escort have thrown me the rope silly,” she said laughing. “Right let’s get near the locks and wait the okay to enter.”
We moved slowly towards the locks, and as we got nearer an official with a blue coat on waved us in. As we got closer there was a rush of water coming down at the right side, which pushed us from the centre towards the left lock walls.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “that’s just the bywash, nothing to worry about, just something to be aware of. I think you need to go up front now, I’ll see you at the top again.”
I made my way through the boat and through the front doors. The first thing I noticed was how cool it was now we were in the lock, the second was how bloody tall it was. It looked a real long way up. We were a fair few feet from the gates, and a few feet below the top of the cill. The cill had water pouring over it in a continuous stream. I grabbed the boat hook and looked up. There was another guy with a blue coat on.
“Okay?” he shouted down to me, “yes” I replied and gave him a thumbs up. I was not prepared for what came next.
I could hear clanking, like old fashioned cogs in some Hammer Horror film, the cold air didn’t help, I shivered. Suddenly the water in the lock started swirling violently and the boat started moving. I told myself the professionals were up top and that this must be normal, but it felt anything but. The boat didn’t move towards the gates, but I used the pole to keep us from bashing against the brickwork of the lock walls. Then something I was completely unprepared for, little gates started opening in the bottom of the lock gates and water started spewing in, splashing the boat, splashing me. It was a veritable torrent, luckily the volume and force seemed to push the boat away from the gates. I realised that the cill was underwater, the chamber we were in was filling rapidly, the boat moving around in the water, rocking, almost difficult to keep my feet.
Things seemed to get calmer as the gates letting in water became under water as the chamber filled. Looking at the water in the chamber there still seemed a lot of eddies and whirl pools, I would not want to fall into that, it looked deadly. And then everything was calm, the boat was now at the top, I could see the tow path and people watching, some waved to me, I waved back, a seasoned boatsman now. The gates in front opened, and I could see that there were two blue coated men leaning on the big beams that opened the gates. When they were opened I was faced with another huge lock looming high above me.
“Don’t be a prat,” I said to myself quietly, “only four more to go, we can do this.”
Marie moved the boat into the new chamber and the whole process repeated, this time I was more prepared of what to expect, and stood further back when the water gates opened and didn’t get as wet this time. Eventually we were through all five locks and I waved a thanks to the guys in the blue coats that had done most of the work, I put the pole back on the roof and headed back to Marie.
“That was something else,” I said.
“You did a good job,” she answered, “let’s moor up in a bit and you can get dry, but for now, let me just calm down, that was a bit scary.”
I sat on a little stool to one side and collected my own thoughts. In truth I had been terrified as we entered the first lock. Dark, cold, damp, water spurting, nothing I had experienced but reminiscent of horror films, my mind went to places I wished it hadn’t. By the time we got to the last lock I was less terrified, more ‘simply nervous.’
We got away from the tourist and commercial area around the locks, past the café, away from the the plethora of boats moored and once more into open countryside.
“This looks good,” she said and edged the boat to the side and we came to a stop. She jumped off with a rope and secured the back end to a little steel ring that was in the bank. The front of the boat had drifted out, “run up front and throw me the rope,” she said.
I went through the boat and took the stowed coiled rope and threw it to her. She caught it and using the ring as a lever, she pulled the boat back to the bank and secured it. I walked back through the boat and met her at the stern.
“Gosh,” she said, “that was something else. Let’s have a cup of tea.”
She put the kettle on rinsed the mugs we had used before, then looked at me.
“Gosh you are shaking,” she said, “Take your wet top off, let me find you a towel.”
I pulled my top up and off and she came back with a thick towel that she wrapped around me, our faces became quite close and she looked into mine and I into hers, and the kettle boiled. She turned Sincan escort back and switched off the burner and the kettle stopped whistling.
“Are you married?” She asked, I shook my head, “only I don’t want the complications of a married man.”
“No, not married, close a few times, but not gone over the line, just never happened. She ignored the tea and came back and kissed me. I, of course, kissed back, where was this leading I wondered.
She leant back, a smile on her face. “I meet so few people in this life. Other boaters are either gay couples, for some reason this seems to attract them, or married couples. There are a few single men, but they tend to be going through some sort of mid life crisis, and I don’t want to be their counsellor.
I took her face in my hands and pulled her to me and kissed her again, talking wasn’t necessary. She pushed me back into the chair and her hand pressed onto my crotch and found that I was hard. My hand slipped from her face and fondled her left breast, her nipple also hard. She stood up and took my hand and led us up the boat to her bed.
“There’s not a lot of room,” she said.
“I expect that we will manage,” I replied. Marie pulled her top off revealing a blue bra and what I estimated to be B cup breasts, the bra was soon off. I let the towel fall, kicked off my trainers and pulled my trousers and underpants down together, she pulled her jeans and knickers down together revealing a small blond thatch and a beautiful crease with her inner labia peeking out. Gorgeous.
She climbed onto the bed and lay next to the boat wall, I joined her, and kissed her again, the bed narrow and my dick stabbing at her stomach. I eased my hand down and cupped her breast, a finger and thumb teasing at her nipple before moving on down to slide between her labia, feeling them caress me and wrap around my finger as I sought her clitoris.
“Aah,” she gasped, I had found it. I gently stroked it and then dabbed my finger against it, each dab eliciting another sigh and a gulp of air. I slipped my finger back down through her embracing lips and found her entrance. I slipped two fingers slowly inside her and when my palm was flattening her labia, I widened and wiggled my fingers inside her, her wetness aiding.
She was gasping by now, and her fingers were pressing at my back. I eased down her body, sucking and kissing a nipple before moving further, my tongue running between her labia, licking my fingers and then moving back between her inner swirls and sucking her clitoris into my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” she gasped as my teeth gently nibbled her nubbin, my fingers pressing upwards from within her. I licked and chewed her clitoris a few more times, each adding to the tension in her, and then I eased away and moved up again. She sighed as my fingers left her fanny, my mouth kissing her I covered her and reached down and lines my dick up against her entrance.
“Mm” she murmured and then I started pushing, entering her slowly, her hot wet fanny offering no resistance as I penetrated her. Her legs wrapped around my backside, her arms around my shoulders and she nipped my lips as I pushed hard and reached her depth.
“Oh God, Jesus Josh, I haven’t done this in so long.”
“Me either,” I lied.
I flexed my hips and began a slow gentle shag, my balls hanging between her thighs, waiting to release their seed. I felt my foreskin slide on my shaft as we shagged, my dickhead pressing against her depth, pushing her deeper into her body, her squeals only adding to my arousal.
I began to go faster and pressed harder, my stomach slapping against hers, our sounds would give any one on the towpath no doubts as to what we were doing. Her fingers were digging deeper and her heels pressing on my backside, her grunts as we shagged getting higher and higher pitched.
I felt the familiar tightness in my balls, the crinkle deep inside at my root and as I was about to lose control, Marie screamed, more a release of air as her lungs purged, her fanny tightened, clamping my dick and her nails tore at my shoulders as she bucked underneath me, her orgasm erupting through her body. My own orgasm exploded, my dick spurting my spunks deep inside her, three times before I was spent.
Marie settled into the bed, her arms and legs now flat, not gripping me.
“Wow, excellent,” she said in between gasps.
“Yes you were,” I answered, and she was.
“I have to get going soon,” I said, “I have no lights for my bike, I did not expect such an eventful and lovely day.”
“Will you come back?” She asked.
“I am working with meetings the next three days, If you are still here, I can come back and see you again after that.”
“Okay, I am not sure what my plans are.” She held my face and kissed me, I think we both knew I wasn’t coming back.
I got dressed, my clothes still a little damp, and hauled my bike of the boat. As I cycled down the tow path I wondered what my wife would have prepared us for tea.