Up the Khyber and On the Run
When first we practice to deceive
Synopsis: A pregnancy simulator seems an ideal way of convincing Paul's wife that pregnancy is really not that bad, and they agree to try it on holiday on Seacombe Moor. But it's not just the jailbreak from Seacombe Prison that turns everything upside down for Paul. This story is complete but is being serialised in six chapters, to be released at approximately daily intervals.
All people, places and events in this series are entirely fictional. If you need medical advice about pregnancy, consult a doctor rather than the pages of this fictional story.
Chapter 2 - Escape from 'The Moor'
Marianne drove us down to Seacombe in my Mondeo, rather than her BMW sports car. Normally, I found the Mondeo a comfortable car, but with a baby inside me kicking me every five minutes, the suspension seemed to make agony of every bump in the road. And with me having overslept, it seemed that Marianne was trying to make up for lost time by driving at breakneck speed.
After a while though, she calmed down, and settled down to a more appropriate speed for carrying her unborn child. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep again.
I was awakened by the blast on the horn from a car going in the opposite direction, and I felt the car suddenly swerve.
"Stupid idiot," Marianne said. "He was coming straight at me."
Behind, I could hear the sound of several vehicles colliding. I awkwardly twisted around in my seat. It looked like an almighty pile-up.
"Don't you think we ought to stop?"
"There's not much we can do. There'll be plenty of other drivers who will testify how crazily he was driving."
Right at the very back of my mind a little voice reminded me that Marianne, too, could sometimes drive crazily. But, I resolved that the back of my mind was where that thought was firmly going to stay. I closed my eyes again.
"What do you think of it?"
Marianne's words jerked me wide awake, and I stared at a gently-mellowed Georgian manor house built in an ivy-covered, brown stone.
"Are we here already?" I'd lost all track of time. I knew I'd been heavily asleep for some time and I'd had some vivid dreams, which I now struggled to remember.
"If by that you mean have you been sleeping for the last four hours whilst I've driven you non-stop all the way here, the answer is a definite yes." There was a smile on her face to take the sting out of her words.
"Sorry," I said. "I think the extra work in carrying our baby around has exhausted me."
"Well now you know how I'll feel."
Again, there was no sting to her words so I didn't bother to argue that she would probably have half the extra weight I currently had.
"It looks lovely," I said, nodding towards the manor house.
"You can see why I fell in love with it," Marianne said. "Check-in doesn’t start until two. Why don't we park the car and have a wander around for a few minutes until then?
"That is," she pointedly added, "if you feel up to it after your tiring journey."
I gave her a grin and confessed I might be able to have a walk around the park surrounding the house.
It was easy to see why Marianne had been so attracted to the place when she had come for the fashion shoot. The delightful wooded grounds were as enjoyable as the house itself, with a stream which tumbled over numerous waterfalls as it made its way down a little valley, to fill the duck pond situated directly in front of the house. We walked slowly up the valley for about ten minutes, before the extra weight I was carrying had me gasping for air.
"Can we sit down on this bench for a minute," I suggested to Marianne, heading for it before she had chance to walk past.
She grinned. "Not up to motherhood yet, Paul?" Then she hurriedly looked over her shoulder to make certain she hadn't been overheard. "Sorry. That was stupid of me. I won't make any more references to you-know-what."
We'd already agreed I would adopt Marianne's real first name for the whole of our stay here, regardless of whether anyone else was present; otherwise, we could give the game away by anybody overhearing a casual conversation.
I'd better explain about Marianne's names. When, she'd decided in her teens to go into modelling, she'd felt that her own name didn't sound right for a model. So, Anne Brown had turned into Marianne Black - just as decades before Pricilla White had changed her name to Cilla Black.
Our marriage further complicated things, and Marianne flicked between using Anne and Marianne, in combination with Black, Brown and my surname, Johnson, with an ease that left me hopelessly confused.
She had decided - and only told me last night - that I should use her Anne Johnson name, which would allow me to use one of her bank accounts in that name. She'd already ordered new credit and debit cards on that account, so I now had (slightly illegal, I expect) bank cards in the name of Anne Johnson, which bore my new signature.
In the meantime, she would continue to be Marianne Johnson, and if asked, we would say we were sisters. Marianne normally loved to be recognised in public and she nearly always used her professional surname, but she'd decided that for this occasion she didn't want people asking too many questions about her. I thought it was all probably over the top, but agreed the bank cards would be useful if we got separated at any time.
She glanced at her watch. "Look, it's almost two. Why don't I go back to reception and check in whilst you stay here. We don't want to overtax you, after all."
That sounded an excellent suggestion, so Marianne set off downhill and I made myself more comfortably and closed my eyes a little. This pregnancy thing really was a tiring business.
"I think the term is snap."
I hurriedly opened my eyes to stare at the smiling face of a woman, standing just a yard in front of me.
"Sorry?" I stuttered. This was my first real encounter with someone who didn't know my situation. It was far scarier than I'd anticipated. Had she seen through me straightaway?
"Snap," she repeated, standing back a little so I could see her properly. She was pregnant! And not just pregnant, but heavily pregnant as well, although her bump was nothing like as big as my maxi bump.
"Hello," I said, inwardly delighted that I'd passed my very first test. "Are you staying here?"
She nodded, and plonked herself down on the bench next to me. "That's right. I arrived about an hour ago, and I've been wandering the grounds waiting to check in. They're very delightful, but also quite tiring."
I nodded, pleased it wasn't just me that got tired so easily. "My sister has just gone down to check us in. Is that where your husband is?"
She grimaced. "My husband is about two hundred miles away. We're getting divorced."
"Then it's snap again," I said. "Only I haven't a clue where my ex disappeared to." Another part of the pretence Marianne had worked out to avoid awkward questions.
"To be rather mercenary," she said, "I'm glad you're not with a partner. It looks like most of the other guests are young couples staying here on romantic breaks. I was beginning to despair."
Actually, I too felt relieved there was another pregnant woman here. "I was thinking the same," I said. "Incidentally, I'm Anne Johnson, and my sister is Marianne Johnson."
She smiled and held out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Sharon Smith. Are you booked into the hotel or the bungalows?"
"The bungalows," I said. The bungalows were scattered around the hotel grounds, and whilst still enjoying all the hotel facilities, it did mean guests had more personal space, complete with their own patio area. "With me being pregnant, we thought it would give us more privacy. In fact, we're booked into one of the rooms for disabled, so there'd be no steps to fall down."
"Me too!" Sharon said, with a delighted grin on her face. "I think that means we'll be next door to each other."
"Great!" I said. And I meant it. In just the few minutes we'd been talking, I'd got to like Sharon. The fact that she was pregnant did not detract from her being a very attractive woman, tall with well-rounded breasts which, although not quite as large as mine, were certainly attractively large and quivered delightedly with every movement. Being a heavily-pregnant woman, I realised, had not stopped me finding other women attractive.
"Is this Marianne coming now?" Sharon asked, nodding her head behind me.
I glanced around and saw Marianne striding towards us, giving us both a really nice smile.
"That's right," I said, and raised my voice so she could hear. "Marianne, this is Sharon Smith, and it sounds as though she'll be in the bungalow next to us. Isn't that marvellous?"
"Great!" she said, clutching Sharon's proffered hand and shaking it warmly. "She'll be good company for you."
"So will you, Marianne," I said, wondering why she'd put it like that. After all, it was Sharon, here on her own, who'd be more appreciative of our company.
Marianne hesitated and then said, "I'm sorry, Anne. I've just had a call on my mobile. There's an urgent job just come up in Bath. I'm going to have to go there straightaway, for a shoot tomorrow morning."
Hell and damnation! "But you can't leave me here on my own," I stuttered.
"We did agree I might have to pop off now and again," she said. "I simply didn't realise it would be so soon after we arrived. I'm sorry sis. Still, fortunately you've found a new friend already, so you won't be on your own." She turned towards Sharon. "You'll look after her, Sharon, won't you?"
"We can look after each other," Sharon said with a smile. She turned to me, "We could form The Pudding Club."
That sounded like fun, the kind of thing we'd have done as kids, and I couldn't stop my anger from melting away and smiling like a Cheshire Cat.
"Marianne," Sharon added, "I've got to go down to Reception to check in, and the walk is a bit much for me on my own. You couldn't walk down there with me, could you?"
"No problem, Sharon. Here, let me help you up." Marianne reached out her hand so Sharon could more easily rise off the bench, an offer which Sharon gratefully accepted.
"Are you going to help me up as well, Marianne?" I pointedly asked.
"Of course." She held out her hand and it took much more of a pull to get my tremendous weight off the seat.
Marianne handed me the key to bungalow and went back to Reception with Sharon. I heard Sharon asking whether, since Marianne was going to shoot someone, she was a paid assassin? I felt slightly jealous that Marianne appeared to take more care in helping Sharon than she did me; then I realised that Sharon was really pregnant whereas I was just an imposter. Still, it didn't help in carrying this bloody great load around
"So your sister is Marianne Black?"
We were sitting outside on our patio, drinking some of the home-made lemonade we'd found in the fridge. Hell, I could have done with a proper drink, but pregnant women kept off alcohol. That, I realised, was going to be another tough part about being pregnant.
Marianne had already departed, and we'd spent a little time unpacking our luggage before agreeing to meet for drinks on the patio outside the door of her bungalow. And after a bit of small chat, Sharon had come out with that rather embarrassing question.
"She is," I admitted, "although normally she likes to keep it quiet, otherwise she gets too much attention." Obviously, Marianne hadn't kept her mouth shut about her profession, as we'd agreed; if Sharon knew anything of Marianne Black's history, it might lead to my early exposure. Damn Marianne!
"How exciting," she said. "I was wondering whether..."
But whatever she was wondering was cut off by the sound of a siren wailing, some distance away.
"What's that?" I asked. "A fire?"
Sharon shook her head. "I think it probably warns that someone has broken out of The Moor."
"You mean the prison?"
Sharon nodded, and said with a grin. "Presumably it means we have to look out for a man carrying a ball and chain with arrows printed all over his suit."
I glanced around. We were quite separate from the main hotel buildings. "Do you think we're safe sitting outside here?"
Sharon shrugged. "Seacombe Moor's hardly a top security prison where they take violent offenders. I don't think an escaped prisoner will see two pregnant women as much of a threat to his freedom. In any case, the prison is miles away. Let's stay out here."
But her complacency was shattered a few minutes later when the hotel manager came around. "I'm sorry ladies; we've just heard that a prisoner has escaped from a prison van not too far from here, and that his accomplices had guns. Could I suggest you come down and wait in the main hotel building until we hear more?"
I thought: A prison van? That's strange, although I couldn't explain why it felt strange.
"It might be hours," Sharon protested, "and I really need some rest. Couldn't we lock ourselves into one of our bungalows?"
The manager looked a little doubtful, but admitted we would be perfectly secure inside, with the shutters bolted across the windows. So, he made us secure both our premises and Sharon and I went into her bungalow, which was almost identical to mine, and promised not to open the door without checking first with Reception on the house phone.
"So here we are in a locked room," Sharon giggled in a way I found incredibly sexy. "What can we do with ourselves?"
I certainly knew what I'd like to do with her, if only I hadn't been wearing the Pregnancy Torsolet.
"Did you bring a swimming costume with you?" Sharon asked. "With this sudden heat wave, I thought we ought to make the most of it. That swimming pool looked rather nice for tomorrow. And once we're in the water, it doesn't matter if we look like porpoises."
"I didn't bring a costume," I said. "I thought I'd look simply terrible." Actually it was the thought of prancing around as a half-naked woman that had really made me tell Marianne there was no way I was going to go swimming.
"I have a spare costume," Sharon said. "You could borrow that. Come and look at it."
She led the way into the bedroom, and I followed - part of me frustrated that, as a woman, I couldn't take advantage of being led into the bedroom of a sexy, albeit pregnant, woman; the other part relieved that there was no chance in betraying Marianne's trust in me.
And then a little thought passed through my mind: Marianne had always declared we had a modern relationship, so temporarily enjoying a good bonking with someone else was perfectly acceptable.
But then another thought said that since I was a pregnant woman, I could hardly contemplate having sex with another pregnant woman.
But there again, another little thought said it would be nice.
In any case, I reasoned, by going into Sharon's bedroom, I was only behaving how any woman would.
"I bought two," Sharon explained, "as I didn't know how much more I'd grow. I'm certain the bigger one will be fine for you." She opened one of her drawers and I had quick glimpse of frilly underwear before she pulled out a grey swimsuit, shut the drawer and slowly stood up.
"Here." She thrust the swimsuit into my hands. "Try it on."
"Right," I said, and hesitated as she stood looking at me. "You mean now?"
"Well of course I mean now," Sharon said. "Look, I'll put mine on as well so we can see how well we coordinate together." Without more ado, she unbuttoned the front of the smock she was wearing, pulled it off and dropped it on the bed. She reached behind her and unfastened her bra, letting her wonderful breasts wobble free. They were exceptionally firm and it was as much as I could do to stop myself reaching out and cupping them in my hands.
"Get a move on," she said, turning her back on me as she got her other swimsuit out of the drawer.
With her back temporarily turned, I pulled my own smock over my head.
"I was really pleased the way this swimsuit doesn't make me look too much like a whale," Sharon said. "I think we'll look great together. Do you want me to unhook your bra?" This, she added as she saw me struggling behind my back to remove it.
"Thanks," I said. "I'm simply not as agile as I was a month ago." I obediently turned and she unhooked my bra and I let it slide down my arms and onto the bed.
"What wonderful breasts you have," Sharon said. "They're much larger than mine but are just as firm. I'm really quite proud of the way mine have grown without getting slack. What do you think?"
"I think they're wonderful," I said.
"But your breasts are stupendous and those nipples are something to die for," Sharon said. "I bet they're very sensitive. Do you mind if I just..."
Without waiting for an answer, she bent over and licked my left nipple.
"Yeraoohh!" I gasped. That Sensotouch facility Marianne had talked about was fantastic. She'd said something about touch-sensitive skin, like a computer screen, with the signals then amplified and fed to tiny electrodes on the skin. It was mind blowing.
"I was right. They are sensitive. Is your other nipple the same?"
"Erhhh!" It was. My legs felt very unsteady, so I sat down heavily on the bed.
"My poor dear," Sharon said, "your nipples haven't been getting proper attention without a husband."
"Well, no, but..."
"You're on Seacombe Moor, now - on holiday. It's time to forget your inhibitions. Allow me." This time she closed her lips over my nipple and sucked it into her mouth.
"Agghh!" It was divine; there were fireworks starting to explode in my head. They multiplied in intensity when Sharon switched to the other nipple and suddenly I was into a crashing orgasm which went on and on as Sharon alternately sucked and licked.
"Sharon. That was beautiful," I groaned, as I gradually came back down to earth.
"Glad to be of service," she said. "But you could return the favour."
She hovered above me and slowly lowered her breasts down onto my face.
Now whilst I had absolutely no experience of having my nipples sucked and licked, I certainly did have experience at doing the sucking and licking.
"Mmm," she said."That is nice. Now I reckon I can always tell when a girl has licked nipple before, and you certainly have, haven't you?"
I nodded, my mouth too full to answer.
"And here's me thinking I'd have to seduce you so carefully, when all along you're a bi," she said.
"Well, not really..." I started to say, then realised it was simply better to suck nipple and say nothing.
"After that, I think I could eat a horse. How about you?"
I hadn't thought about food until that moment, but I suddenly realised I hadn't eaten since a very early breakfast. "Sounds good. But with the prisoner on the loose, are we allowed to walk to the hotel on our own?"
Sharon shrugged. "We can telephone Reception and get someone to come over to escort us. Presumably you want to get back into your room in order to dress. Do you want me to walk round with you?"
I hadn't thought of getting dressed for dinner until then, but I realised that was something a woman in a hotel would always do. Although rather nervous of going out of the door on my own with an armed escaped convict on the run, I was about to instinctively reject the offer from a pregnant woman - as any bloke would - but then I remembered I had to act in character. "You could just watch me from your door and telephone for help if I need it."
"No problem." She gave another shrug. "But there's no way that someone who escapes from a prison van just up the road is going to hang around a hotel here waiting to get caught. He'll be long way away, by now - probably on a boat heading to France."
What she said made perfect sense, but I was still a little nervous as I stepped out of Sharon's front door and walked over to mine. The manager had made me lock my door before going into Sharon's, so I felt reasonably safe once I was inside. But that didn't stop me doing a thorough search of the bungalow, just in case.
We'd agreed we'd be ready to leave in thirty minutes. I smiled at that. If I had really been Marianne, there was no way I'd be ready in that time. It would take longer than that to choose an outfit. But Marianne had instructed me back home about what clothes to wear for what occasion, so I reckoned it would be a simple decision - something a man could do without problems. All I really had to do was to shower off the sweat I'd built up during that wonderful girly tumble with Sharon, and then put on my rather pretty dress, which so nicely displayed my breasts. With any luck, Sharon would be so entranced by them over dinner, there'd be some fantastic treats for afters!
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