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Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 01

By: Scotsman69



She unstuck herself from sleep. Light was glowing round the edges of the blind and she pushed it up, yawning. Her eyes narrowed as the plane tilted and she caught the full glory of the sunrise; an infinity of Atlantic below, glinting and flashing in the light, and on the east horizon the joy of morning. Light diffused sideways by low white clouds into a faint spectrum of colour. The rising sun gently expanded at the centre. Between glittering heave of sea below and sunrise, a long archipelago, low to the north and south, mountainous in the centre. As the plane moved to cross this land, clouds of birds, black as flies against the sun, wheeled and dived against cliffs and beaches edged with long rolling surf. She looked at her map and saw a line of islands up the northwest coast of the land, Outer Hebrides.

She stretched hard against her sloppy clothes: soft tracksuit against her skin, slippered feet. Airline overnight dress. Scrunched the rug sideways and adjusted her seat upwards, then moved gently to reach the aisle past her neighbours. The boy turned as her legs squeezed against his momentarily, then against the man she assumed was his father. 

She staggered a little in the aisle, feeling the blood beginning to surge again in her body, and headed for the tiny toilet.

Relieved and sluiced down, hair roughly brushed into shape, she returned to her seat in time for the bongs for the seatbelt signs to illuminate. Needed coffee, but it looked like she'd missed that. The woman captain's voice announced their arrival at Glasgow in twenty minutes in French and English, told them it was a bright sunny day there, wished them a safe onward journey.

Over land now, a succession of coiling mountain ridges between deep valleys, lakes -- she'd have to remember they were lochs -- sparkling in the new light, occasional little settlements, edges of snow on the north-facing mountain slopes. Change of engine-note and vibration in the capsule as it began descending gently, wide pastured plain below now, then lower hills, settlements spreading into cityspill, villas becoming apartment blocks, nearly low enough to touch them, a wide river with rows of lights beyond, then the soft bump as wheels touched blacktop. Rolling, slowing on her new continent as the engines pulsed in reverse thrust.

Hi, I'm Alexander, but that's my Sunday name, my friends call me Sandy.

The man who met her was kilted: he had said it would be unfailing recognition, and she sure didn't see any other guys in kilts as she emerged into International Arrivals with her trolley. 

They shook hands politely: I'm Red, pleased to meet ya.

He held and returned her wide smile, enquired about the flight, asked if she needed breakfast, looking with concern in her eyes.

Sure could, slept through it on the plane. Can you get a real Scottish breakfast round here? To him, she said 'Skaddish'.

No, I'm afraid the airport just has mid-Atlantic concessions, but we can get something decent twenty minutes away. Can you wait?

Sure, we have enough Burger King at home. As they walked through the carpark she evaluated him. She'd booked him as a tourguide online, on the recommendation of a friend. Seemed nice enough, older, but that was fine, obviously kept himself fit, very pleasant and seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. 

He stopped at a small car and opened doors and trunk for her, lifted her two backpacks into it. She remembered to go to the wrong side and got in. What sort of car is this?

Renault Megane...French...do you have them?

Don't think so. Maybe in Quebec, she smiled, not in Ontario.

Soon on the expressway, she was disorientated by the car layout and the strange flow of traffic: So where you taking me for breakfast?

Oh, what we call the West End, university area, lots of choice for breakfast there. And no Burger Kings. About twenty minutes drive. You must be exhausted, you just want to look, or d'you want a commentary?

Uh, looking's fine for now, thanks. But I expect plenty of action...later.

He sensed her looking directly at him as he changed lane to get into the tunnel offramp, curious at the ambiguity of her comment, the directness of her glance. Turned to look at her in turn. She was shrugged into the corner by the door, right knee drawn up on the seat under her, gazing through the windscreen. She felt his gaze and smiled at him, warmly he thought, and he felt a wee tremor of anticipation. She was certainly a good-looking woman, late 30s maybe, mass of dark red curls over and round a long sensuous face, small breasts under the tracksuit top. He smiled into her eyes and returned his focus to the road, slipping into lane as the car entered the tunnel.

Ten minutes later he was parking, backing into the tiniest gap in a crowded sidestreet lined with towering stone Victorian apartments.

He opened her door and they turned towards a busy street, found a deli. You sure you want a Scots breakfast? He enquired, and went to order on her nodded acquiescence. So, how d'you like Scotland?

Well, my first time here so it's a bit strange...his leg brushed hers under the table as he adjusted himself in his seat. She noticed he didn't apologise. And I've hardly seen anything, but the sun is shining, is a good start. And you seem OK -- she smiled -- so far. Airports are airports, and I guess I'll get used to your funny driving habits. So tell me about you Sandy, how did you get into this game, uh, tourguiding?

Breakfast arrived. He spoke slowly as they ate. Well, I only started last year. Professionally. I just signed up to a site last year, got a few customers, they seemed happy...now you're here, the first for my second year.

The coffee was very strong: Hey, what do you guys do to your coffee?

Ah, he smiled, just a wee cultural difference. We find lots of North American stuff quite bland, so I think you might find some things here strong-tasting. How's breakfast?

She wasn't entirely sure what she was eating but it tasted good, and she told him so. What did you do before tourguiding? Bet you have an intriguing story?

Not really...I've worked as an academic, and in public affairs. University offered me an early retirement package I couldn't refuse, a couple of other things happened in my life. I fancied something different, working with people more on a one-to-one basis, sharing my enthusiasms for my country and its culture. So far I'm enjoying it.

She remembered what Ingrid had told her: she had booked this guy last year with her husband, and had surreptitiously tried to get him into her pants all holiday but he wasn't playing. Red hadn't told Sandy she'd booked him on Ingrid's eager recommendation. 

I guess you get all sorts of opportunities to know your customers when you're on a trip?... her eyebrow raised equivocally as she smiled at him. 

Oh yes, it's an interesting situation. One needs to be professional, but as I get to know my clients and they get to know me, of course a relationship develops, and so far they've mostly been...gently warm. As they should be.

Mmm...what about the ones that weren't ...gently warm: how did they go? She smiled and touched his shoe with hers.

He didn't move his foot. Not sure it's really ethical to talk about my other clients to you...

Oh come on. I don't know them, they don't know me, no harm in it surely? Anyway I need to know what to expect of you, that's why I'm asking. A single girl in a strange land, I need to know how well I can trust you!

Oh dear, just what have I let myself in for here? He smiled broadly at her, looking into her eyes. Nothing untoward has ever happened to my clients Red, I promise. Maybe a couple of them seemed to not get everything they wanted, is all, but I hadn't signed myself up as that sort of guide. Certainly nobody has complained to me, or put anything critical on the site. And I aim to ensure nobody ever does.

Mmm...what happened to the ones who didn't get everything they wanted then? She was enjoying teasing, relishing his slight embarrassment, and warming not a little physically.

Well, there was this guy, a solo client like you, he was obviously gay. I had him for a week, he wanted to do some climbing...which I remember is also on your possibles list? Right at the end of the week, we were in a bothy up between Dalwhinnie and Corrour, in the middle of the wilderness, and he started to come on to me. He'd played it absolutely straight all week and I was surprised. Explained that I wasn't interested at all, sorry; we talked about it for a while, and parted the best of friends.

Bothy? 

Wee hut, mountain shelter, open to all going that way. A bit basic, but usually better than camping...saves you lugging a tent.

How did he -- uh -- come on to you? She was starting to tingle, hadn't expected that.

Oh, he touched me, quite deliberately, unmistakeably...since you ask, like this...he leaned over and patted her crotch gently.

Oh -- she inadvertently squirmed, definitely tingling now. And the other time?

He sat back upright, moved a little in his kilt to adjust himself: The other time was quite different. I had a couple, both maybe around your age, both very presentable. Canadian too. She...well, she was all over me, every time her husband was out of sight. She was very attractive and I have to admit I was tempted, but the last place I ever want to be in is the middle of a marriage drama. I told her that, restrained myself. We all parted friends. I think.

More or less what Ingrid told me, she thought. So he's not the bragging type. Sandy, I know a lot of guys in that situation would have done something different. You sure that's all that happened? She smiled coyly, noting the rumple in his kilt, wondering... 

Course I'm sure Red...I don't tell lies either. 

She let it rest.

Your turn now, tell me about Red?

Uh, work in property, recently divorced, got a decent settlement and decided I deserved a holiday. And here I am, kids with their father, first holiday on my own since I was young! She beamed and stretched her arms sideways, noting his eyes float over her breasts appraisingly. And now I think it's time you started earning your fee, showing a poor Canadian girl around town, stead of sitting there ogling her!

Yes, of course -- slightly embarrassed -- what's your agenda for the day? Don't you need a wee lie-down first, I can never get a decent sleep on an eastbound overnight?

Hey, no! I'm here, I want to see things on this lovely day. Lead me forth, Sir Sandy!

OK, well, we discussed a city itinerary online. But rather than spend it inside buildings on a day like this, how about a castle? Or the ruins of one anyway, plenty of fresh air and sunshine. There's a good one nearby, Bothwell Castle, lovely grounds by the river and enough of the ruin remains for you to get an impression of medieval life.

Sounds great, indoors is not for today. Can we take a picnic? I'd love a picnic in a medieval castle!

They ordered picnic things from the deli. Sandy insisted on paying the bill: Part of the service, I always insist on paying on a guest's first day, so don't argue. After this it's 50:50. He slipped the picnic into a small backpack and they walked back to the car. -----

Afterwards she had fuzzed memories of the journey, it was all so new. Through huge Victorian university buildings reminiscent of the Federal Parliament in Ottawa, onto an expressway for fifteen minutes, through a town built entirely of very pink sandstone, then quiet lanes of quite upscale modern houses much like home. 

Another turn and there it was: her first medieval castle! Rusting sandstone walls and towers, part-ruin. Surrounded by neat parkland studded with ancient newly-greening trees; daffodils and other spring flowers all around. Hey Sandy, it's SO lovely! She leaned over unthinkingly and kissed his smooth-shaven cheek, contrasting the sharpness of the goatee beard.

Glad you like it. Let's go explore. 

She rushed ahead towards the gate and he followed, appreciative eyes on her svelte arse. Christ, maybe I have an adventure on my hands here, he thought. She is some woman, and some flirt. But probably nothing more, he mused soberly, lots of NA woman seem to flirt as a matter of course. 

He showed a card at the gatehouse, bought a guidebook, and they entered the castle proper. Do you want the military and architectural history now, Red? Or maybe you just want to explore?

She turned to face him, smiling all over her face: Oh, explore for now thanks Sandy. History lesson later please. She bounded off round the inside of the walls and he followed more slowly. Soon she was above him on the battlement atop the wall: Surely you're not so old and creaky you can't climb up here, she taunted, there's a lovely river down the other side. He joined her on the wall, climbing two steps at a time, and she noted he hadn't broken sweat. I should have waited and let him go first, she thought, see what this Scotsman has under his kilt. But there are plenty more stairs...mmm. She gazed over the tranquil river flowing through trees below. Sandy, this is so special, thank you for bringing me here. We seem miles from anywhere, nowhere near a big city. 

She felt herself glowing all over, she was so happy, and she was really beginning to like this reserved guy. Truth was, she was getting horny. But she wasn't going to let him know that: he embarrassed easily and after Ingrid's tale she certainly wasn't up for a rebuff, so she resolved to let it go. Just a little gentle flirting, teasing him harmlessly in this gorgeous special place. Mmm... -----

They walked on round the battlements till they had to climb down again. He led her to a six-storey tower in the corner and slid into the low entrance, then round to the foot of a stone spiral stairway. 

This is the way to get the best view from the castle, Red. If you don't mind a few stairs? He stepped up and disappeared round a corner. She followed eagerly and, hoping to get a glimpse on the way up, stayed just far enough below him that she could see the twirling hem of his kilt. His thighs were solid and muscular, but she couldn't quite see...then another turn and the stairs got steeper and Damn! Green trunks concealed his groin.

I know what you're doing, he called down, you're trying to see if it's true, aren't you?

She paused and felt the flush on her face. No I am NOT, and don't you assume everyone has your dirty mind -- but she giggled and spoiled it. It was amazing how easy it was to be with him.

He disappeared into a lighter space and she followed him. They were in the open-air remains of a room at the top of the tower. Small gaps where windows had been showed panoramas over the area. There is a story about this room, he breathed as Red joined him.

She leaned into one of the window-spaces: Go tell me, I love stories, wiggling her ass deliberately as she stretched her neck out over space.

Well, she sensed him moving behind her, his eyes on her ass: It is told that one of the Lairds was a bit of a lecher - her ass twinged involuntarily this time - and he errr...he inducted each new servant maid up here. She felt his fingers gently brush her ass. She was getting wet now, no doubt about it.

Whaddya mean, inducted them? murmured in her throat. She wanted his fingers again, softly brushing up her thighs. She slid her legs apart a little. The fingers would pause as they stroked the pants gusset between her legs, then stop. Her pussy was aflame now as the gusset pressed her wet slit. But no fingers. She sighed, then heard sounds on the stairs below.

Maybe we should keep the story for later Red, it's not fit for kids. Sure enough, the sounds on the stairs had become the voices of small children. 

I thought you wanted to explore Red? There's lots more to see. And he waited at the top of the stairs for the kids to emerge excitedly, followed by a harassed mum. Red followed him and they descended slowly.

They emerged into the light at the bottom and she ran for the exit: I wanna explore the river-bank Sandy. -----

She certainly has a lot of energy after an overnight transatlantic flight, he thought, aware now of his own arousal. He really hadn't planned the day to slip into this sensual mode at all. Not that he was complaining: she was both fun, and very exciting. He followed her outside the castle and onto the paved path round the exterior of its walls where it overlooked the river, then onto an overgrown path which led down towards the bank. She was still running ahead and occasionally shouting encouragement back at him. He caught up when she sat down on a sward of fine grass overhung with willow beside the river. Slid down beside her.

Hey Sandy, this is the most gorgeous place -- what a start to my holiday! She looked at him and realised that the way he was sitting, knees up, his kilt hem was sliding down his thighs. Then a flash of jewelled movement caught her eye on the opposite riverbank: Wow! What was that?

Kingfisher - he watched its movements intently - isn't it gorgeous? Global warming, never used to get them this far north, but I'm glad they're here now.

Mmm, well if this is Scottish global warming, I like it. She lay back on the soft grassbed and sighed, eyes shut so the sun glowed crimson through her lids. Stretched her hands behind her head so her breasts stood proud beneath the top, knowing he would notice too the flatness of her belly as the material stretched. She wriggled so her pants came tight against her crotch. He was still sitting up, hands round his knees now, but she felt his eyes absorbing her. His hand brushed her thigh as he leaned over to lift the picnic backpack.

I'm a bit thirsty Red, how about you?

Mmm...yes please, what is there to drink?

Oh, wine, juice, coffee, what's your fancy?

I'd love some wine Sandy. She opened her eyes and pouted at him, pushed herself up on her arms so her hand brushed his back, watched as he opened a bottle of Sauvignon and poured into two paper cups. They sipped slowly, looking occasionally at each other as they glanced round.

Tell me about your kids Red? As his eyes roamed the length of her svelte body.

Uh, two; daughter of eighteen starting university this fall, son of ten. Both with their dad in Manitoba right now. I love them to bits and thought about bringing them with me on this trip, but Joe's taking them to Florida tomorrow so I have a clear conscience to indulge myself! You? You have kids Sandy?

Oh, I'm a grandfather now, two sons, both married. One in Edinburgh, the other in the south of England.

And your wife?

She's around. Separated unexpectedly two years ago. She found someone else, it was a huge shock to me. Rather not go there right now if you don't mind. 

Uh, too bad, I can see it still bugs you. I'm sorry to have raised it. You found anyone else since?

Christ no. Not looking either, still a bit...unsettled, adjusting to who I am. Something like that makes you review your life, and my review doesn't look too good. He emptied his wine in a gulp and looked...well, he looked stripped bare all of a sudden, exposed.

She reached for the wine bottle and silently filled his cup. You ever talk about it to anyone? He shook his head. Looks like you could do with offloading some, Sandy. She stroked his arm softly and felt him shiver at her touch. I know it's none of my business but...maybe you need some female company sometimes. Her fingers rested briefly on his arm, then she reached to refill her own wine. Anyway, here's to the spring, touching her cup to his, and to our adventures together.

Er, yes, here's to your trip. I'll try very hard to make it good for you. He sat up from his slouch and his eyes met hers as their cups touched again: Slainthe!

Now Sandy, what are you telling me? It's not fair to try to confuse me, and anyway your contract says you speak English!


Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 01



Slainthe is Gaelic: good health. Sorry I was away a bit, it won't happen again. Pain still showed through his smile. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. 

Couldn't help it, you looked so lost. She watched his blush deepen. And it sure looks like you don't get enough kisses. She brushed his lips this time, feeling a tentative response, then withdrew her head. 

Now Sandy, back to work. You were going to tell me the story of the tower -- how the guy, uh, inducted the servant maids? I'd sure like to know what that means! She knew the wine had gone straight to her head but she didn't care, she wanted to draw this man back from where he had retreated. Hey, why don't we go back to the tower so you can tell me there, and I get the atmosphere?

You're the boss Red, the tower it is, if you're sure? He was smiling again, but a little hesitant -- Only it's so nice and sunny here, and it's cold and damp in the tower? 

Yeah, and I love the sun! OK, we stay here for now.

Well, the story is, the tower was principally a lookout post in times of trouble, of which there was plenty in medieval Scotland. But it was also the Laird's private place, and he held the key. Every time a new maid was engaged, he took her to the tower to, err, appraise her suitability.

Hey, if you mean he fucked her, why don't you just say so man? Suppose it kinda went with the job, being Lord of the castle? Nice work if you can get it.

He blushed: Well, if you're happy with the language, I suppose that's what he did...er, fucked them. Must just have been the sort of man he was, and the mores of the time. 

Wouldn't you have, in his situation, if you had that power?

No, I don't think I would. I can't imagine myself...forcing myself on any woman. Besides, he was married.

Doesn't stop most guys if they get the chance. Lotta girls too. You mean you never fucked outside marriage Sandy? Really, honestly?

Red, you are getting a bit personal - he blushed deeply - and you are my client, not my confessor...

...which means you have played around sometime. That's a relief, you're normal then! He couldn't help but respond to the mischief of her smile, grinned like an adolescent.

Anyways you're right, I'm your client, which means you do what I say. Pour me more wine please, Sir Sandy, then I want to go back up that forbidden tower. Client's orders. She held out both cups. He filled hers.

Hey, that's cheating, you gotta have some too! You scared of me or something? Her smile was wicked.

I have to keep my driving license thank you madam, and no, I am not scared of you.

OK then -- she glugged her wine down in one -- let's go to the tower! She got up so her hair brushed his face, started walking up the path, then stopped to wait as he repacked the picnic and caught up with her. She 'stumbled' over a root and he caught her from behind, arms around her midriff. She stumbled again so his hands slipped over her breasts, and she moved her ass back into his groin. Heard his intake of breath, half-turned towards him so her ass twisted hard against his groin and his fingers pressed hard on both her breasts: Hey, maybe I drank that wine too fast, her face in his firm chest now, thanks for catching me, looking up with slack mouth. She knew he was aroused, Christ when was he going to respond?

He smiled down at her face and his lips brushed her forehead: I can see I need to take care of you Red, now sober up, I thought you wanted to see the tower? 

He had nearly kissed that very inviting mouth: I need to take care of me too, he cautioned himself. As his eyes ran over her form preceding him up the path, he wondered whether he should have kissed her properly. Maybe that would be looking after himself? He knew he wanted to: where was the harm? She was alone and obviously very interested...and his cock was still tumescent from when she had pushed her arse into him. It had been a very long time...

She was waiting near the top of the path, bent over to breathe the scent of the yellow gorse in full flower. The way she was bending, the shape of her deliciously taut arse was clear against her baggy trousers: Hey, that's a real strong pungent aroma, what is it?

Gorse, it grows everywhere Red. Rabbits love it.

Mmm, not surprised, it's deeply sensual. Is that why they fuck so much? She laughed, and in that moment he accepted that he wanted her, would have her. His cock went rigid as he momentarily imagined pulling her pants off and taking her on the spot.

Don't know about that, but it's prickly, gives them protection.

Oh, I'm disappointed, is that all? I thought it might have been an aphrodisiac. She patted his firm ass as he passed her, grabbed his hand: You need to help me up this last bit, and they breasted the top of the path and walked round the castle wall to the entrance. Squeezed his hand and released it as they entered the bottom of the stair, let him go first, then noticed a couple of NO ENTRY signs stacked against a wall in a corner. She moved one to the bottom of the stair and followed him up, running to catch up. -----

He was in the top room leaning out of the window when she got there His kilt was well up the backs of his thighs. She sensed a change in his mood and touched the back of a thigh, running her finger lightly up it: Hey, you gonna show me now? What do you have under that fine kilt? To her surprise he turned to face her, and lifted the kilt well up so she could see the bulge in his green trunks, then dropped it again, smiling differently now. A corner had been turned and she felt her pussy moisten.

OK, now that's out of the way, he smiled. And for future reference, I never heard of any Scot who doesn't wear them under there!

She pouted in mock disappointment: D'ya think that's what he did? The Lord with the servant wench? She turned to lean out of the window. She had adjusted her pants on the stairs so her skin would show when she did this, and sure enough Sandy could see the top of the divide of her arse as she bent over as far as she could. He felt something give inside him and moved behind her.

I should think he was much more interested in what was under HER clothes, he breathed, as his open palms moved over her back, shoulders, massaging gently, then slid under her loose top. Plenty of time for her to withdraw discreetly if she wants to, he thought, blood now pounding in his head and his cock.

Mmm She wiggled her ass back so it pressed his groin, felt the throb of his erection. And what would he be wanting to do about what was under her clothes? Go on, let's play. I'm the wench and you are my lecherous master.

There was no answer but his hands explored her back, found no bra, and moved round her smooth flanks till they covered her tight breasts, fingered her swollen nipples. Ach wench, ye're sic a comely lass. He leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck and his pulsing cock pressed into her asscrack. His tongue licked and tasted behind her ears, nose in her hair, and he thrust his cock harder against her. She was a roaring fire now, between the tongue in her ear, the fingers squeezing her nipples, and the insistent throb against her ass. She felt his hand slip down under her slack waistband, fingers on her shaven mound, as the other continued to work her nipples. She parted her legs wide. 

Ye cannae escape noo lassie, a new voice growled and she shivered. If ye wad work here, the first thing ye maun lippen is that yer maister is jist that - fingers parted her lips, found her slippery. Maister of all of ye - a finger slid roughly into her wet pussy - every pairt of ye, ma sweet wee kitchie-deem. Firm fingers were pulling her pants down now, then pulling her asscheeks apart. She felt him spit on his finger, the slippery warmth of the fingertip circling her asshole, pressing it gently.

Oh sir, I didn't know, her head hanging in total submission, wh...what do you want of me? Please be gentle to a poor virgin maid!

Ah want tae see ye, ivvery bit o ye...first, lassie. He pulled her roughly up and turned her round, lifting her top as he did so her breasts were naked and proud against him. So tak the rest o yer claes aff.

She glanced into determined eyes, thought of the sign at the foot of the stairs, hoped it would be enough to deter. His harsh commanding growl was exciting her deeply. She looked down submissively.

But sir...

Nae buts, wench, dae's yer tellt!

She bent, breasts hanging, slipped off her sandals, shucked off her pants, looked into his hard eyes again, defiantly: Like what you see, master?

Yer maister wants tae see mair wench: Ah nivver saw a shaven quim afore, let me see it richt! No playacting this, he was panting now.

She lifted one foot onto the window-ledge so her pussy was gaping open for him. Sir, I... I shaved it for your pleasure. He knelt between her legs and raised his face. She felt his hot tongue teasing her, probing into her wet pussy. She had to put her hands on his shoulders, squirming in her excitement as the soft tip flicked over her clit. 

He raised his face, she could see her own moisture on his moustache: Ye did weel lassie, yon's as guid a cunt as ah've tasted yet. And -- he smiled a deep smile of satisfaction -- its guid tae feel it sae naked. But noo ma wee sexslut, ma cock's sae fu, ah maun fuck ye.

How do you want me master: I am here for your pleasure, any way you wish to take me. She was trembling in anticipation now, needing to see his cock before he plundered her: But if you please sir, your servant would see the tool which is to ravish her?

He stood, lifted his kilt and slipped off the green trunks, pressing her shoulders down so she knelt before him. He shoved the pulsing column of flesh in her face, rubbing her eyes, her cheeks so the heady male scent inflamed her further. Her tongue reached out to lick it, and feeling his shudder, she opened her mouth and sucked the engorged head in, tongue exploring its velvet surface. She pulled back: Thank you sir, your tool is most pleasing to me. Now show me how your slut can best pleasure you?

He pulled her to her feet, turned her round, and thrust her roughly into the window opening so her head was hanging over space. Coarse sandstone ground against her nipples and belly as he pulled her legs wide and she felt his cock slide into her warm wetness. A teenage boy on the grass below glanced up, noticed she was naked below her shoulders, kept watching. She contracted firmly on Sandy's cock as he slid into her and he forced hard to enter fully. Contracted again as he thrust a second time: Oh sir, you have set my pussy on fire. Fuck me hard and long sir, so that you will extinguish my flames. She pushed back hard on his cock and raised herself a little from the window-ledge so she could finger her clit as he fucked her. The teenager was still watching, hand at his groin now.

Ah lassie, ye've a bonny spasming cunt, ye serve me weel - pulling her back up so he could grasp her breasts tight as he thrust - an ye have the sweetest wee paps ma hauns have yet felt.

She squirmed in double relief as the harsh stone no longer ground her nipples, and his big fingers pulled and pinched them hard. The teenager was openly rubbing his cock through his jeans. She stroked her clit hard on every entry as she clenched down on his cock, felt her orgasm start welling inside her and, fully abandoned to her own pleasure, ground her clit harder and faster as his speed increased.

Ye truly are ma wee sexslut an ye're in for a hard fucking daily, noo ye're mine. His voice was harsh and urgent in her ear and sensing his closeness, she ground her clit harder -- Ah'll fill every hole in yer sweet body...Ohhh ma sweet wee cunt, yer maister maun fill ye...she sensed his balls tighten, then the surging of his seed in her belly as she groaned to her own orgasm and they shuddered together, juices mingling. -----

Oh Christ Red, thank you my sweet, thank you...I'd nearly forgotten what it's like to fuck. You are truly delicious...Now you know what you get for flirting outrageously with a man who hasn't had it for a long time! 

She clenched her cuntmuscles so his deflating cock remained in her, noticed the teenager was now lying on the grass exhausted, a growing big wet patch on his jeans. She stood so the kid could see her tits, pulled her nipples for him, her face feigning orgasm. Hoped he had enjoyed the show.

Well Scotsman, I guess I overdid it a bit, but I was real horny and you were unresponsive for a long time. First fuck by a kilt in a castle, it was so fuckin hot, and I got a real dirty frisson from the roleplay. I might just want to fuck you again, tourguide. Her muscles slackened and his cock slipped out.

She turned to face him solemnly: But, Sandy, you have to believe that I have never before fucked a guy within -- glancing at her wrist -- five hours of meeting him. Must be your fault, with your sexy stories!

I know, they have terrible power, apparently. I have never before done such a thing.

She knelt to lick and suck her own cum, and his, from his dripping cock: Truly didn't feel like it honey, it felt like you were really practiced.

Noise below stirred them from their mellowness: they urgently dressed and he bent to kiss her as the clatter on the stair came nearer. 

I was going to say Red, I don't know what came over me, but I know fine it was pure lust. Thank you lassie.

She could still smell their sex as the teenager emerged. She squeezed past him in the narrow door so he felt her tits scrape across his chest. She pulled Sandy down the stair after her. Sandy, yeah, I never needed pure animal fuck so much in my life. You were hard work at first, but it was sure worth it! But soon, I am going to need to rest a while. Let's go have our picnic, and led him to a picnic table.

They sat and ate their picnic, sipped coffee. He was embarrassed at his behaviour now, that he had taken advantage of her so coarsely, and was glad to move the conversation on: Maybe I should take you back to your B&B, when we've finished lunch?

Yeah, that would be good, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and -- flashing him a wide smile -- don't you always love to sleep after a good hard fuck?

I err...reddening...

Hey, no need for embarrassment, we're fuckbuddies now Sandy! Come on, show me this place you booked me. She started shoving empty things into his backpack, then pulled him up. Girl needs some rest! -----

He remained mostly silent as they drove back to the city, and her eyes shut. Jerked awake when he stopped in front of a neat stone terraced two-storey house, opened her door for her: Welcome to your eponymous Glasgow home, Red.

Epon...? What does it say? pointing to the name beside the door: Tigh Dearrg. 

Red House, he laughed, come meet Mrs Docherty, she's a foreigner here too, Irish, and he walked a short path brushed by catmint and thyme, alive with early bees; pressed a buzzer. 

Sure an its yersel Sandy, smiled the little middle-aged woman, an dis'll be Ms Grant? Red shook the warm hand. They were ushered inside, given a businesslike tour, shown Red's wee room under the eaves. Sorry you got the smallest room in the house, Ms Grant, but it's a terrible busy week, an I tought since ye were on yer own...Now I'll leave ye to settle in...

It's a sweet room Mrs Docherty, I'm sure it will be just fine. The door closed. Oh Sandy, it's just right, how good of you to find it for me, so much better than a boring anonymous hotel. She kissed him, pressing momentarily close, broke off to draw the curtains, slipped sandals and clothes off, and flung herself back on the bed, limbs akimbo. Come cover me, Sir Sandy, I need a cuddle...

He sat irresolutely on the edge of the bed, took her hand gently. No games here, Red, Mrs Docherty wouldn't approve, and I don't want to fall out with her. Leaned to cover her, kiss her parted mouth.

She ignored him, pushed him off. OK, guess I'll need to keep myself company. Would you pass my little purse over Sandy? He gave her the bag and a cylindrical shape was in her hand. 

Wanna watch what a girl has to do when her stud won't play? Flipped the cover off, squirted lube, arched her back as her legs spread wide, bent at the knees, and closed her eyes when the buzzing vibrator touched her slit. Ohh fuck man, that's so good -- it slid into her vulva and her fingers gently rubbed the exposed clit -- now you gonna help me or not... ahhh fuck...she was writhing now around the pulsing core of pleasure in her cunt.

He was incredibly aroused, never seen a woman pleasuring herself before, the most erotic and provocative sight...but he couldn't, not here in Ma Docherty's. Sorry Red, I just can't. 

He kissed her, felt her fingers under his kilt, stood up: Need to leave you now, call me when you're...rested. You have my number. And he slipped out the door, closing it quietly.

She withdrew the vibrator, knowing it could do nothing for her. 



Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 02



Thanks to you all for your kind words, but especially to my friends in: Anonymous, Arizona, Galway, Glasgow, the Hebrides, and Ontario. In strict alphabetical order.

For new readers, you might find it would help if you read Chapter 1 first. All comments, public or private, most welcome. I've a thick enough skin to take criticism.

*

She didn't call that afternoon, or evening, and he assumed she was catching up on sleep. At 10pm he called Mrs Docherty to tell her he would be round at nine after breakfast: Oh, she's out now, said she might be late so I gave her the key, he was told.

In bed that night he thought about her...It was a mistake, a moment of madness, I shouldn't have allowed it to happen, and it won't again. Too much to deal with in my life just now. And I'm too old to have holiday flings...but he couldn't erase the image of her arse spread invitingly on the castle window...of her masturbating with the vibrator on Ma Docherty's bed. His cock was rigid and he played with it, thinking of her with the toy up her cunt, wanting her. He reached for a Kleenex and wanked hard till his cock erupted, imagining her...wiped himself clean and waited for sleep.

But it didn't come straight away. His life was a mess right now and he wasn't trained to avoid things. The divorce was in process and it was hard going. For him at least, he thought ruefully. He still missed his wife Jean, and couldn't blame her for what had happened. He had messed around and wasn't surprised when she wanted to play, she must have known. But instead of just having an affair with the man, she had fallen in love and moved out. He hadn't touched a woman since, until yesterday, almost scared to, after the mess he'd made of his marriage; the awkwardness it had brought between him and his family.

Money wasn't the problem, so at least he didn't have that worry, and she couldn't clean him out as she had left him. Or so his lawyer assured him. But he was alone now and he had to deal with that, sort out a plan for the rest of his life. He was sixty, but he didn't feel old, he had lots of mountains still to climb, figurative and real. Then yesterday Red had exploded into his life, re-awoken his lust...made him come twice in one day, now how long was it since THAT had happened? Just as well he had come again just now, it should reduce his libido tomorrow. But he was booked for another four days with her before she went off touring on her own...

 She awoke to her alarm at 7.30, pulled on her sweaty tracksuit, and drew the curtains on a grey wet morning -- so much for Scottish spring! Then sat on the floor to lose herself in yoga and collect herself for the day. Started her routine, but couldn't focus, mind and body still recovering from her overnight flight and first day in Glasgow. Gave up and sipped tea for a while, thinking about the previous day. Her toy hadn't worked its magic, she hadn't orgasmed after Sandy had left, and she had eventually drifted off for a bit. Came to at eight hungry, showered, slipped into a dress. Decided not to phone him, she was annoyed that he could reject her when she had ached for him, performed for him like that. So Mrs Docherty had given her directions to find a meal, and had given her a key. Bugger you, Mr Alexander, I'll taste Glasgow myself tonight.

It was fifteen minutes walk to Byres Road, bustling with bars and restaurants. She noticed a sign for a curry house up a lane, followed her nose, left well-satisfied after a fine Punjabi meal. Paused after rejoining the street, asking directions to the place Mrs Docherty had mentioned: a bar where a single woman could feel OK. It was a converted church on a busy corner, folks still sitting outside smoking though it was dark and cool now. 

Inside was richly and rather strangely decorated, elaborate edgy murals on the walls. She felt comfortable and entered, no music, just a low buzz of conversation. She asked for a good pint of Scottish beer and retired to a corner where she could just watch, between dipping into the guidebook Sandy had sent her in Ontario. 'Scotland the best', hmmm. Well, it mentioned both the restaurant and this bar, but what about tomorrow? She skimmed through the Glasgow attractions, was just getting into the architecture of CR Mackintosh when she became aware of someone standing by her table, a smartly-dressed older woman.

Excuse me, d'you mind if I sit here? Red smiled acquiescence; the woman set her drink on the table, sat down. Thank you. I'd rather not sit down at a tableful of men! A disdainful pout.

Yeah, they get ideas about a woman on her own, don't they? Red said. They exchanged introductions, the woman was Alison, a librarian. She was a very well-preserved fifty-something. Red warmed to her as they spoke. Alison had a brother in Gravenhurst, just down Hwy 11 from Red's home, and visited regularly. They talked about airlines, Toronto, stuff.

But I'm being thoughtless, said Alison. Do tell me what you want to see in Glasgow, maybe I can help?

Hey, that's very kind. I'm only in the city for four days, then off touring. For some reason Red didn't mention Sandy.

Well, you can see a lot in four days, and I see you have the best guide. Looks like rain tomorrow, I suggest you start where the city's history starts: with the cathedral and Provand's Lordship. That's the oldest house in the city, fourteen-something.

Well, I gotta go there! 

Yes you must. Alison glanced up, smiled. Now I must leave, my date's arrived, but here's my number, looking Red straight in the eye, something in her smile. I hope we can meet properly before you go? Ring me, please, maybe we can have a meal? Bye for now, and enjoy your evening.

Alison moved off to greet a much younger woman, who kissed her on the mouth. Red lingered in her book, finished her drink. Left with a wave at Alison, whose arm was around her young date.

 A gong sounded through her reverie, and she realised it was time for breakfast. 

Over the food she thought about Sandy. Christ she had lusted for him yesterday! Quite out of character...well, maybe not completely. But with a wet day today there would be no picnic, no alfresco fun, so she would dress demurely. Besides, she hadn't forgiven him for his rejection. But a skirt rather than pants, maybe suspenders. She needed to remind him she was a woman...

He rang the bell at 9.00 sharp and she was waiting at the door. Took in his jeans and casual top, kissed his cheek lightly: Hey, I thought the deal was, you wore a kilt! 

Oh, sorry Red, I thought that was just the first day. Would you rather I changed, I don't want to disappoint you? 

She called a parting to Mrs D, pulled him out the door: Yeah, I'd like that Sandy. Would you please, you look really distinguished in it, and remember, your client is always right!

Um, well...I suppose you could wait at my place while I change, it's just round the corner. This way.

He didn't say anything about last night -- or anything else. Neither did she. I was thinking about the cathedral today Sandy, and some old house nearby. You OK with that?

That'll be Provand's Lordship? Yes, sounds like a good start on a dreich day. This is my street right here.

Grey stone four-storey Victorian apartments, small gardens at the front, a wide street with huge trees on grass in the middle. She knew enough about property to know these weren't slums, but she was still surprised someone like Sandy lived in an old apartment block. She told him so cautiously.

Red, in Canada half the population of the UK has the second largest country in the world to spread around in. You have lots of room to build big homes on generous plots of land, except downtown in the biggest cities. In the UK we have twice the population of Canada in just a bit more than the area of Nova Scotia. Land is really expensive, property and room sizes are mainly wee, and the tiniest house costs an arm and a leg. I reckon I'm lucky to live here. Wait till you see inside my flat, the amount of room I have, and remember we are less than a mile from the city centre. And wait till you see inside other Scots homes before you pass judgement!

OK Prof, I guess it's a different world in quite a few ways, she laughed, following him up a stone staircase, then into his apartment. Now, go get yourself decent before you lecture the morning away - client's orders!

He was right: even the entrance hall was long and wide, maybe twelve feet tall, delicate plaster cornices, elaborate stained glass on and above the door: Is this all original Victorian?

Oh yes. Sometimes it has been replaced, but this all looks original to me. Now, I need some guidance from you, Ms Clientboss. 

He had decided on a strategy for dealing with her today: this would be the first step. She followed him into what was obviously his bedroom. Please sit over there, Red, indicating a fine upholstered fin-de-siècle armchair in rich art nouveau fabric. She barely dared sit on it, perched on the edge, legs demurely together. 

Now, I want you to tell me how to dress to please you best today. He drew the curtains, switched on a spotlight and, standing under it, removed all his clothes. He spun almost balletically, bowed, and smiled at her. His cock hung gently at ease, but even then it caused her to catch breath. She crossed her legs deliberately, showing stockinged, gartered thigh. Noted with satisfaction that the cock twitched.

Now Red, you have tabula rasa. Tell me what to wear, and I will dress just as you wish. But the deal's off if you try to touch me. Only I can do that -- and his hand circled his cock and stroked it to erection.

We-ell now! she whispered. Now there's a sight to wake a girl up! What are the options...dress-wise? She manoeuvred to lean forward a little so he could see the top of her breasts under her demure blouse. He continued to stroke his cock, as it quivered upright.

First Red, you are going to watch me masturbate till I come. I want to do that so he is less interested in you today. His voice was tight. You can do anything you want but you can't touch me. Then I will dress, on your advice.

Well that's a hard call Sandy, a little hard for me. But two can play at that game, she thought...

So; she stood up now, I'll just have to follow your example -- unbuttoning her blouse -- so I don't have any problems today either. Shucked it off, unzipped her skirt, stood before him in her underwear and garters. She slid her hand down the front of her panties. Mmm, she murmured: seems to be a bit wet down here, certainly needs attention. His cockhead was slick with precum as he continued to masturbate. She turned her back on him, unhooked her bra and bent right over the chair to slip her panties off. Sandy, I need to be on your bed, and she slid onto it on her back, knees bent and legs wide.

He turned to face her, moving beside the bed as both her hands went to her groin. His hand had slowed down now, precum dripping from the eye as his fingers stroked gently. Red, I don't know what you are doing to me, I have ...his fingers speeding up ... never...behaved like this...before.

Her right fingers were a blur in her crotch and he watched closely as her left fingers spread her cuntlips wider. Between her legs was the most beautiful spreading pink flower and he was tingling with electricity as he watched her pleasure herself, luxuriating in her vibrant moans. I need to watch you orgasm Red -- whispered -- I have never watched a woman masturbate to orgasm...

Ohfucksandy you will I promise. Hips writhing now as she watched his hand moving on his cock, ohh then you can cum too, need to watch you cum man...she spasmed and moaned hard and ohfuckohfuckman screamed low as her pussy exploded and his spunk spattered her tits under his guttural groans and he fell on her, mouth in her softly pulsing pussy and his cock jerking weakly on her face.

Well I guess nobody touched till after the orgasms she giggled; ohfuck you sure light my fire Sandy. 

I thought I was, err... punishing you somehow, for tempting me - muffled in her pussy, her nerve-ends registering his breath - but it didn't seem to work.

Naah, hon, ya musta known what would happen soon as you pulled your cock on me? 

It really never occurred to me that you would react like that. I think I wanted to disgust you or something, so you wouldn't want me, wouldn't want to play with me. And of course relieve myself!

Oh man, you sure gotta lot to learn about women: where have you been all your life? But I loved watching you jerk off for me!

Christ I loved watching you masturbate too Red: I was so turned on by you yesterday...

So why didn't you stay, silly? I was aching for you then. But, hey, more later, huh? It's ten and I gotta lot of other things to see in this city. Let's move, pulling him back from his warm attention to her pussy. Guess I'm sated for now, aren't you?

Er, yes. Now, you want a shower?

No, I want to smell you on me all day, don't wipe it off. And I want to breathe my smell on your mouth too, so don't you dare wash it off. But maybe I should lick your spunk off your cock first, then you can get dressed, and she bent her head to the task. NOW, go get your kilt on, except, NO underwear today, client's rules!

She pushed herself up, started dressing -- but slipped her panties into her purse. Who knows? Then, looking in his wardrobe, told him which shirt to wear with his kilt. 

 A coffee in his kitchen (not so strong, she noted), and they were off. He wasn't taking the car into town, so they got a bus, and twenty minutes later she was standing on a sort of square, in front of an ancient large green-roofed church, in a grey drizzle.

One genuine medieval cathedral, he whispered into her hair, his lips brushing her forehead. Been a church on this site for over a thousand years, but the earliest bits remaining are nearer seven hundred years, and most of it's fifteenth century.

That's the fourteen-hundreds, right? She murmured, awestruck...Sandy, I've never seen a church so old. Or any other building.

Wait till you see inside Red, and remember, as European cathedrals go, this is second-division. Scotland was a poor country, so there is no ancient architecture to compare with England or France...except the castles of course! 

They entered by a side-door, and she was surprised that she didn't have to pay. This is a living Church, not Disneyland, numpty! he smiled. It was huge and, atheist as she was, she caught a humbling aura that this was no ordinary building. There were few visitors, and no sign of staff, other than at a stall selling guidebooks.

It's gorgeous Sandy, she whispered, and look at the glass!

None of that's old, he responded: all nineteenth century and later. Stained glass didn't survive the reformation. It was part of the austere Scots brand of Presbyterianism that it went. If you want medieval glass you have to go to England.

You mean, it used to be here and was REMOVED? For religious reasons? What sort of religion is that, that destroys beauty?

You might well ask, Red. But you have to remember that by the time of the reformation, mid fifteen hundreds, the established church, what is now called the Roman Catholic church, was widely viewed as corrupt. And folks knew that in a poor land, ostentation in church buildings was paid for by the sweat of poor people. 

So yes, the reformation here destroyed many of what we see now as beautiful cultural artefacts. I interpret that as being a kind of political retribution by the people, for the corruption of the old church, and its exploitation of the local community.

Umm... bit hard to get my head round that right now, it still just seems like vandalism to me. But show me round, Sir Sandy and remember -- laughing, bending her head to the top of her blouse -- I'm smelling your spunk with every breath I take! And her fingers went surreptitiously to the front of his kilt.

Well, maybe in the context of this discussion that isn't inappropriate -- his fingers rested lightly on her breasts and she felt his stirring. Part of the church's corruption was certainly sexual. They were even reputed to do it in churches. Hands by their sides now, they were walking down one side of the aisle, when she noted a wide stair down to the right.

Hey, let's see what this is? She stepped down to emerge into a white-painted chapel. It was empty. She ducked behind a thick column and grabbed him as he passed. She hugged him and whispered: Sandy, it is so gorgeous, but d'you wanna know something? Her fingers were up his kilt now, stroking his cock. He mumbled something. Her fingers teased round the cockhead and she felt him stir. 

Finger my pussy Sandy. As she kissed his mouth he caught a whiff of his own sperm from her top, and his fingers dropped to her knee, slid up her thigh, into her dampness. Her fingers closed on his cock, felt it swelling. I always wanted to have sex in a church Sandy ...masturbating him now, and pushing her pussy down onto his fingers...and I never have yet. 

So here's your client's order...oh fuck, she was hot now, beginning to drip. Let's be as corrupt as the medieval churchpeople. I wanna quickie now Sandy, just fuck me. She turned and leaned forward on the column, bent at the waist, and lifted her skirt so her ass was presented to him. Reached behind and pulled him to her by his dripping cock. He grunted and thrust it hard into her wetness.

Christloveyourcunt Red, thrusting hard. Then steps on the stairs. 

He pulled out abruptly, smoothed her skirt and his kilt as the steps got louder. She straightened, as if examining the texture of the stone column, he staring at an inscription on the wall.

An elderly gentleman in a dog-collar smiled at them: Good morning. Isn't it a fascinating chapel? 

Yes indeed, Reverend. Red's Canadian. She was just telling me she has never been in such an ancient building before.

Ah well, of course this isn't the oldest part of the building. In fact this is quite new, sixteenth century, an extension that was never completed. It was really the foundation for a new transept, but the extension was, ahem, interrupted by the reformation, never built. The oldest part of the cathedral is the crypt under the east end, where St Kentigern was buried.

Thank you so much, now I must go see that, and she grabbed Sandy's hand and pulled him up the stair. Christ that was close hon.

I could have fucked you whilst he watched, he growled. If that's coitus interruptus, I don't want it again!

Mm, fraid he cooled me off quite a lot, maybe I'll wait for a quieter venue for my first churchfuck. She shivered. I think I've had enough cathedral for now Sandy, what about the old house? 

OK, Provand's Lordship, its right across the road: this way Madam.

 An ancient stone-built three-storey house, the doorway so low she had to stoop. Folks didn't grow so tall six hundred years ago, Sandy remarked. And remember, this was the house of a rich man, this was the high life in medieval Glasgow. They explored the house, full of ancient heavy wooden furniture and hidden stairways. The bedroom was huge. 

Guess from what you told me there was some corrupt sex in here too, eh?

Aye, nae doot, and he pushed her against the wall, her back to him, fingers on her tight arse. And now there's going to be some more. Bend and open your legs wench. A new sense of command in his voice.

She wriggled her legs apart obediently: but Sandy, I'm not so hot now, that guy in the cathedral kinda dried me out. 

He was spreading her bumcheeks with his fingers, touching her anus so she involuntarily clenched tight. That's a fine arse wench. The senior churchman who lived here would have been careful how he fucked his lassies. Pregnancy wasn't on the agenda -- he put his finger in his mouth, probed her asshole wetly -- so often buggery was their way. So I need to bugger you Red. He was panting.




Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 02



No Sandy! She whirled round on him, slapped his face hard. Enough games for now, and certainly not that one. His kilt was up and his red cock stood like a pole. She flicked his cockhead hard with her middle finger, watched it droop as the pain and surprise registered on his face. You need to learn that I am NOT some slut who will let you indulge your every fantasy! 

Acute confusion, disappointment and embarrassment mingled on his face. Yes, Ms Client, whatever you say. Christ, the bitch, he thought, leading him on till he had overcome his reluctance, then slapping him down...literally. His cock still hurt.

 She'd noticed a museum across the road, wanted some coffee. Strangely now, she was turned on... but as much by his humiliation as by any physical need of her own. Now that was something new, but then with this strange unpredictable Scotsman, everything was new. And she had thought she was setting the pace here!

She kissed his crestfallen face lightly, took his hand: let's go get some coffee, goof!

After coffee, they visited the City Hall. 'City Chambers', it was called: an ornate Victorian palace of conspicuous construction with more marble than she had ever seen in one place. She found it somehow too much to like, and told him so. 

I agree. It was opened in 1888, at the height of the Empire, when Glasgow was one of the richest cities in the world. The entrepreneurs who ran the city wanted a civic HQ which reflected their wealth, but it also reflected their bad taste. And the immorality which had created their wealth, the slave trade in the first place. I don't like the building at all. Every great Victorian city in Britain has one: Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool, Birmingham, but Glasgow's is the most obscene display of wealth without taste.

Hey, I thought you were proud of your city?

I am, but I know its history, and there are some aspects which nobody in their right minds could be proud of. Slavery wealth for one. And cultural vandalism! The city fathers who had this pile built also acquiesced in the destruction of the old University, one of the finest ensembles of medieval and renaissance architecture in Europe...and it was replaced by a railway goods yard! 

No doubt some of them were shareholders in the railway company. It was just the way things were done then I suppose. But only in Glasgow. Britain's other ancient universities; Oxford, Cambridge, St Andrews, Aberdeen, are still largely intact.

She was intrigued by his grasp of, and sensitivity to, the city's history. Living in a town whose oldest buildings were eighty years old, she was still having trouble getting her head round the centuries of built history around her. Mhm, a guide with opinions? But Sandy, I'm getting hungry, can we find some lunch?

Sorry, yes, of course I have opinions: I think I made that clear in my stuff on the site? But I hope I always make clear what are facts, and what opinions? 

Lunch now, I had thought of somewhere in the Merchant City, just a couple of blocks away. In fact -- glancing at his watch -- I booked a table; knew we'd not be far away. Fifteen minutes, we can wander through the Italian Centre, let you do some window-shopping on the way. That sound OK?

 Sandy, I haven't even thought about shopping, I usually do it in a mad rush at the end of a holiday. But sure, no harm in looking now. Where's this Italian place?

She was delighted by the clothes, horrified by the prices. He explained the city's recent re-invention of itself as a post-industrial visitor attraction; the gradual creation of the Merchant City as a place to live and shop, using converted eighteenth and nineteenth century warehouses. 

Soon they were at the restaurant: 'Café Gondolfi'. 

This was one of the first new restaurants here, Sandy said. Been open for about thirty years now, I hope it's still as good as it used to be. I don't have occasion to eat out very much, except with clients, but I thought this might be appropriate for you. 

They were shown to a table and she looked at the menu: Hey, if it eats as good as it reads, this'll be swell! I like the thoughtful way you look after me, Sandy -- squeezing his hand over the table -- except when you lust after my ass. That is a no-go area. 

He was embarrassed at his lust and inconsiderateness, spluttered apologies: I just don't know what came over me. I think I was back in roleplay mode from yesterday. I have to say that really turned me on. But...

It turned me on too honey, in case you didn't notice. But you only play when you know I am looking for it, and you can't have my ass, roleplay or not. Clients' rules! End of subject. Now after lunch, since we're here, I wanna see downtown on foot, OK?

OK Boss. Anything in particular?

No, just what you think might interest me, I'll tell you if I get bored.

What about this evening, Red. Want me around then, or are you happy on your own?

Hey, the contract says you are here for me from breakfast till whenever, and I want my money's worth. Unless you had other plans?

Er, no, it's just, after last night...

Hey, that was then! I was annoyed at you, goof. I think tonight I want you all to myself - she patted his knee under the table - provided you behave!

Easier said than done in your case he thought . It really is complicated having sex with a client. 

OK, You're the boss, madam.

They spent the afternoon walking round the city centre, with Sandy's constant commentary on history, architecture, people, shops. Window-shopping, a couple of malls, but nothing like the Eaton Centre. It was a Victorian city. 

She felt she was maybe just beginning to get the feel of the place, but by 5.30 she was getting tired, and very thirsty. So was he, after talking non-stop all day. They stopped on a busy corner after visiting a very upmarket art nouveau-style mall.

 Fancy a drink Red? I'm parched talking. And you can hardly visit Glasgow without sampling its pubs.

Hey, a drink sounds just right. What sorta pub -- I found a nice one last night. She described.

Uh, Oran Mor. I was thinking about somewhere more, mm, basic, just nearby, here in the city centre.

Sandy, I just have to trust you: lead on!

The Scotia Bar is not on most visitors' must-see Glasgow agenda, but, thought Sandy, it should be. OK, we're here, pushing the door open. It's one of several that claim to be Glasgow's oldest pub. She peered into a low-ceilinged barroom which was only missing the thick fug of tobacco, but she knew smoking in pubs was banned here now, same as home.

Looks interesting man, my round.

Mine's a pint of Deuchars. If you like a beer sometimes, you should try it. Proper traditional Scots ale, not widely available in Ontario I imagine.

She ordered them up, failing to tell him she had sampled one the previous evening. Mmmm, sipping hers as she passed his, it sure doesn't taste like Molson. 

He briefly talked about the Scottish tradition in brewing, and his glass was empty by the time he'd finished. Sorry, I need a refill. Educating you's thirsty work. Her glass was hardly touched. Maybe you don't need more yet?

She palmed her glass and as he ordered, noticed live fiddle music from the corner. Hey, that's why you brought me here, that's Canadian music! I've been places like this on Cape Breton.

Uh, Red, with respect, a slight mistake. What you heard on Cape Breton was Scots music!

Oh yeah, New Scotland and all that, sorry. Guess I'm a bit ethnocentric.

No, less than most NAs I've met, he shrugged. One way to tell a Canadian from a US citizen; ten to one they understand that there is a world beyond their shores, and it's different and sometimes as good as their own. Not so many US citizens seem able to get their heads around that possibility - one good reason I generally find Canadians much less hard work!

Why, I'll take that as a compliment -- she raised her glass with a mischievous smile -- and accept it on behalf of all Canadians! Now, what's this evening's programme?

Well, it's around six now, the music should be picking up here if you want to hang around, then we grab a meal in maybe an hour. Then whatever you're up for. Or of course we can eat as soon as you want.

Hey, I'm fine here man, and I think I want to know more about Scots in Canadian history, if you can tell me? 

An hour and a couple more drinks later she announced hunger, and a wish for Chinese food -- if you have that here?

The best place is just a couple of blocks from where we're both staying; we'll get the subway. Five minutes saw them on the smallest subway train she had ever seen, and for their three-stop journey Sandy educated her on the subject. It's the third oldest subway in the world, after London and Budapest. I think the subway's a bit like the Scotia, something every visitor to Glasgow should experience if they want to get to know this city. But here's our station.

 And just round the corner was the restaurant. More like a student café really: you certainly weren't paying for furniture or decor. It was, he explained, Malay-Chinese, serving both traditional Malay dishes, and Singapore-Chinese. He nodded to the women serving tables, and to a man behind the bar. Over the generous Malay meal they discussed Red's programme in Glasgow for the next three days. She hadn't booked Sandy for any more time, and he had another client later in the week. She had intended starting her own exploration of the rest of the country anyway, she couldn't afford a guide for nearly three weeks. Right now, she was beginning to think that Sandy for three whole weeks might be fun. But she knew that wouldn't happen.

Meantime she told him, her Glasgow-based agenda included museums and galleries, the Burns country in Ayrshire, Loch Lomond, and something of the Mackintosh architecture trail in the city. For starters. 

Well, clientboss, you are surely going to make me earn my fee, he laughed. And remember, tomorrow evening I have a prior commitment, so you're on your own after 6pm.

Shit man, what am I gonna do for a whole evening without my guide? She laughed at his playful mock-slap on her knee. Guess I'll just need to be resourceful. 

I'm sure you will be lassie. There are several theatres, lots of cinemas, clubs, all sorts of entertainments. Here, they're all in The Herald, showing her the paper he'd bought earlier. I'm really sorry I can't be with you. But if you would prefer decent company, I have several friends -- she looked him in the eye quizzically -- male and female, he laughed. Would you like me to make some calls Red?

Uh, Sandy, thanks for your concern, but a quiet evening won't do me any harm. She was thinking about Alison in the bar the previous evening, but didn't mention this to him. 

The pretty Malay waitress brought their sweet: fresh mangoes. Red watched as Sandy tackled the slippery fruit and followed his example, between sips of rice-wine.

Tell me about yourself, and your life at home Red, he asked gently. I'd like to know more about you -- if you don't mind telling me?

Hey, of course I don't mind telling you, goof! But, where to start?

A brief biography would be a good start: you've only told me the barest outline. 

OK. Born and grew up in Toronto, nee Kowalski. Dad second generation Polish, mum first generation Irish. Extended Catholic families both sides: I've more cousins than I know. He worked on the railroad, she was an infant teacher, part-time. A brother and two sisters, now dispersed across Canada. Happy childhood, but I could never focus too hard at school so my grades were so-so all the way through. When I graduated high school I took a coupla pretty dumb jobs, still living at home in Toronto. None lasted till I started work for a property company, and I got kinda interested in my job for the first time. Stuck with it, took evening classes and got myself some professional qualifications.

Meantime I'd met my husband. He was a teacher at the college I attended, but not on my course. We found an apartment, married, our daughter was born. A few months after her birth he was offered a better post in a college in northern Ontario. North Bay, small city in the middle of the wilderness, a world away from metropolitan Toronto. Two hundred miles north, winter starts in September and ends in May. 

We had a good look at the place. Different world. We both liked it, so he took the job. He was much better paid there than in Toronto, nice house, holidays in Cuba or Mexico. Once my daughter was at school my old firm in Toronto asked me if I'd open a new office for them there. I did and it worked, I was earning good money. When our son was born, I kept working, we could pay for good childcare. Years of contentment.

Canadian dream, eh? asked Sandy, pouring more rice wine for them both.

Pretty much, she said. Till around three years ago, when I found he'd been having an affair with a colleague. Apparently started not long after we moved there. I hadn't noticed a thing. Neither had anyone else. Don't know how they did it. Not so easy in a smallish community. Anyway, I was devastated. My son was seven, daughter fifteen. They loved their dad, and Joe was a very attentive father. So for while I did nothing, pretended it wasn't happening. 

Except...except I had an affair. With the guy who'd told me about Joe cheating. I suspect that's why he told me, he wanted between my legs. I was so lonely, and Joe and I never had sex any more. So we started screwing. That's all it was, wasn't an affair or anything. Just sex. Didn't last, but it made me feel...uh...unmarried, in a way. Free, of Joe at least.

After that there were a coupla others. Guess I was discovering I really liked sex, but it was loneliness too. Anyways, last year Joe got offered a job in Winnipeg. By this time I'd started my own property business. So quite apart from the fact our marriage was a sham, I didn't want to move. We fought badly. I told him I knew about his affair. He took the job and moved to Manitoba, we divorced. I reverted to my maiden name. He sees the kids for holidays, Winnipeg's a long way away.

So there you are, Red Kowalska, successful parent, successful businesswoman, failed wife. Having her first ever holiday abroad alone. And - she lifted Sandy's hand, kissed it -- I go and book Sir Sandy for my tourguide. 

She was looking lost, vulnerable.

Well, my dear, I am so glad you did. And thank you for telling me Red. The last few years must have knocked hell out of you, I can feel your hurt just looking at you. Now, how about we get another drink, and you can tell me what your plans are for the future?

Her eyes smiled through her drawn face: That would be lovely Sandy. Thank you for listening, I didn't quite intend to let so much out. She felt so comfortable with him.

The waitress brought another bottle, and they clinked glasses. 

So where do you go now Red? he asked with concern.

Well, Maria, my daughter, starts university this fall. She's going to study English in Winnipeg, she's daddy's girl. So it'll just be young Joe and I then. He's a great kid, doing well at school, and we get on really well. I don't know whether to stay where I am. A small city can be a lonely place, but it's where my business is, so I'll probably stay there till Joe's finished school and ready to start his own life. But I'm quite unsettled right now, so I really don't know. She sipped her wine and looked at him: You are one really nice guy you know, Sandy. I'm glad I booked you, of all the tourguides I could find from Google.

Thank you Red. And lots more exciting places and things to show you! I have a wee suggestion.

So suggest?

I think...I mean I hope this sounds OK...what I mean is, I'd like you to stay the night with me tonight Red. If you would like to. You just seem...a bit lost and vulnerable right now. Thought you could do with a cuddle. And breakfast in bed?

Oh Sandy! You're such a sweet man. I...OK, I'd love to stay with you tonight, that's exactly what I need. A bit of looking after. But what about Mrs Docherty.

I'm sure she'll be fine with it, but we need to phone her. Make it easier for her, tell her we went to Edinburgh and we're going to miss the last train. Sorry about the proposed lie, but she is a lovely lady and I have a relationship with her, I book clients with her regularly. How does that sound?

Mmm...well, OK. Will you phone her please Sandy?

Whilst he went to the payphone at the back of the place, she quietly used her cell to call Alison and book dinner with her the following evening. She wasn't sure why she didn't want to tell Sandy. Just, she was entitled to some privacy.

 They paid the bill and walked back down quiet tree-lined residential streets to Sandy's apartment. It was dry now after the day's on-and-off rain, and the streets smelled washed clean. Daffodils nodded in the evening breeze. She was tired and a bit empty, after exposing the delicacy of her life to him. He held her gently round the waist and, guessing where her head was, hardly spoke.

By the time they had climbed the stairs to his apartment -- flat, he called it -- she was exhausted.

They were standing in his living-room. Now lassie, would you prefer a bath or a shower? Or leave that till the morning, just slip into bed now?

Mm, I think a bath would be good man. We've walked a bit more than I'm used to, and -- she giggled -- I still smell of you from this morning. Come smell me, and she slipped her arms round him, drew his nose to her neckline. 

Oh Red. He sniffed. I love the mixed-up scent of you lass: your skin, your scent, my spunk, your sweat. He licked and kissed down between her breasts. But now my dear -- he guided her to a leather armchair -- let me just go and draw your bath. Back in a sec. Can I get you anything, a drink, some supper?

Hey goof, I'm stuffed from that restaurant. Just a bath will be so good.

He left her to attend to the bath and she looked around the room. Mostly Victorian, she thought, rich floral wallpaper on the back wall matching the print of the curtains opposite; shining polished old bookcases and desk. Elaborate carefully-painted cornicing and centre-rose on the high ceiling. The suite was modern though, rich burgundy leather in what she imagined was a Victorian style. What looked like an old Persian carpet on polished ancient floorboards. A couple of old watercolours and two modern oils, all looking like originals, not prints. A modern computer desk with what looked like good kit on it, discreetly in a corner. Victorian fireplace with a radiant gas heater in it. No television. Red knew her property and she was impressed.

Sandy called her and she moved to the hall. He was in the bedroom: Your bath's run Red. Here's your dressing-gown. He handed her a rather old gown, but it was purest shot silk, rich green Paisley-pattern, and freshly-laundered. I keep it for my women guests, he smiled. That is, my daughters, nobody more exotic! Now go get your bath. Regrettably, it's probably not big enough for two, not that I ever tried that. But first, may I watch you undress?

Only if I can watch you, goof! He moved to kiss her lightly, then she watched as he unbuckled his kilt, hung it carefully, and removed the rest of his clothes. His cock was tumescent but not fully erect. He shucked on an ancient-looking woollen plaid dressing-gown.

When he had undressed she followed suit, carefully folding her clothes over a chairback. He moved to stroke her body as the clothes fell off, and she relished the touch of his fingers. The skin was rough but it was applied like feathers. Goosebumps followed where his fingers touched. Then he led her to the bathroom, candle-lit and heather-scented, slipped her gown off. Would you like me to bathe you Red? he murmured as he fondled her nipples, licked them so they began to engorge.

Mmm please, as she slipped into the deep old-fashioned bath.




Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 02



I'm going to get me a whisky, I have a really good malt. Care to join me?

Sandy, I have had absolutely enough alcohol for tonight! But thank you. He left and returned with a crystal tumbler. Removed his dressing-gown. Immersed his hands in the hot water for a few minutes, playing with her feet as his fingers warmed. Then began soaping her with a sponge, a real one, tickly soaping all over her feet, her calves, her knees. Spent some time behind her knees as she lay back with eyes closed, enjoying his touch.

He stopped mid-thigh, moved to her head. Would you let me wash your hair Red?

Mmm, she vibrated the sound. Sandy, nobody else ever washed my hair. After my mother that is, when I was a kid. But yes, I am so lazy right now, and your touch is so...right. Wash my hair please.

It was no fancy shampoo, he explained, just honest stuff from a local craft producer. He sat her up and used the showerhead to soak her, then massaged the liquid soap deep into her hair, kneading her scalp thoroughly with his fingers. Rinsed, applied again. His fingers curled through the wavy red locks, loving the texture. He took a sip of his whisky, wiped the soap from her mouth, bent to kiss her.

Mm, she said. Don't ever stop please Sandy...but what's that taste? It's like no whiskey I ever knew?

Springbank ten-year-old Red. It's quite different, isn't it? He held the tumbler to her lips and she sipped. 

Mm, that's not whiskey, that's...nectar Sandy...

He rinsed her hair again, applied conditioner, kneading it into her locks and scalp. Fuck Sandy, I love you touching my head like that...

The final rinse left her drooping halo of red curls gleaming. He snapped a showercap on her to keep the gorgeous hair out of the bathwater, began soaping her shoulders with the sponge, her arms, under her arms; leaned her forwards, her upper back...leaned her back. Slowly sponged her small taut breasts, gently lifted them slightly so he could carefully lave the wee crease under them. Didn't linger there, down her stomach went the sponge softly, between her legs...

She felt her clit harden as the sponge brushed her outer lips and he kissed her mouth again, more nectar. Didn't linger on her pussy, just enough gentle wiping, then down her thighs...

Sorry Red, but you're going to have to move a bit. Stand up, will you, love? She noticed the new word as she lifted herself. Now bend forward so I can wipe your delicious arse Red, and she did, feeling the sponge sliding between her asscheeks. She shuffled so the cheeks spread, felt the softness brush her anus. Then down the backs of her thighs. She felt his mouth on her ass, kissing like a whisper.

OK, I think that's you lassie. You should be quite clean now. And relaxed, I hope? 

She sat back and looked into his eyes. A blob of soapsud dangled on the end of his beard and she spluttered helpless laughter. He hunkered down, bent forward, lifted her clean out of the bath. Stood her and handed her a hair-dryer whilst he wiped her as if she was a precious piece of art, with a huge soft white bathtowel. Then as she set to dry her profuse burnished locks, he slipped into the shower cabinet. He was showered and dried before she had finished drying her hair.

He lifted her in his arms, nuzzled her breasts briefly, carried her into the bedroom. His hard cock poked her back as he walked. He set her down on the bed, on her back, pushed a pillow under her ass, spread her legs wide. 

Noo wench, he growled, positioning himself between her legs, yer Maister maun fuck the brains oot o ye. But first I maun worship yer gorgeous cunt. She closed her eyes as he knelt, felt his tongue delving carefully between her outer lips, opening her. Her clit was throbbing as the softness washed her, spreading her inner lips like a blooming flower. Felt her honey flow as he probed insistently, seeking her every recess. 

Och ma sweet wee slut, yer Maister loves yer taste, yer cuntscent lassie. The tongue teased around her clit, not touching, and she squirmed involuntarily, seeking the touch that releases. 

Suddenly his arms reached around her and she felt herself being flipped onto her belly. Hands pushed her legs apart, adjusted the pillow under her. He licked into her asscheeks, tongue probed her anus lightly, then she sensed his withdrawl. 

Suddenly she felt as if in a dream his throbbing cock filling her. She shuffled so her fingers could go to her clit. 

Och lassie, nae quim ever gave me this pleasure, as he thrust slowly at first. His fingers found her hard nipples and he began to move faster. There was a new command in him, an assuredness. He grunted as he thrust and she felt something new begin to build in her deepest self. Ohh Sandy, fill me please, she moaned. And he did. Her fingers tickled her clit, then as she felt him growing in her, thrusting harder, she moved them faster...

Fuck lassie, yer Maister maun explode in ye soon, yer sweet cunt's torturing ma cock an he maun blaw soon, as he felt the electricity in his tight balls. She was in a frenzy now, writhing and moaning uncontrollably, her ass jerking back on him at every thrust, clit sparking as she rubbed hard. Then her cuntmuscles tightened and she knew she was nearly there...he thrust once more then stilled. She felt him grow in her, tightened involuntarily on him again...

....and they exploded together, hard and long...

He licked her ear afterwards, whispered: there are no words, Red, are there?

She shuffled onto her side, felt him spoon into her back, hot sticky cock softening against her ass. No Sandy, no words...



Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 03



Best to read Chapters 1 and 2 first. Many thanks for your messages. And for your support and help: you know who you are! Hope you all enjoy this.

*

1

Red opened her eyes, sleepsoft. Sandy was gazing directly into them, warm sparkles, a smile curling the edges of his mouth. He bent to kiss her: Good morning my dear. Did you sleep well?

Oh what a lovely smile to wake to Sandy, returning his kiss. Yes, I slept the sleep of the just, thank you. Or maybe of lust?

His tongue licked into the corner of her jaw, then into her ear. She squirmed: Oh Sandy...He bit her lobe softly and his fingers went to her breast.

Now Red, he grunted low: It's only half-past-six, and it's a really beautiful morning. So I think we ought to head out of the city, go explore the Burns country. The only question is, when? His fingers were fondling her nipple and it was hardening. His other hand slipped between her legs and she spread them to let him in.

You have so many choices right now Red, he whispered, fingers separating her damp outer lips, stroking the smoothness of her mons. You could go back to sleep -- if I could keep my hands off you. Or I could go get you breakfast in bed, as promised, right now. Or you could just lie exactly there, and do everything I tell you. You'll still get your breakfast, just a little...later. His fingers were stroking between her exposed labia and he bent to lick a nipple. So what's your choice, lassie?

Mm, a beautiful morning, you say? He nodded, nipple in mouth, two fingers inside her now, probing. Well, how about breakfast in bed, and we make an early start for the countryside? His mouth lifted from her nipple, fingers slid from her vagina. He smiled in her eyes again, lifting himself off the bed.

Your wish is my command Red. Tea or coffee? Grapefruit, cereal, toast, bacon and eggs? He slipped on his gown. His erection was throbbing.

Uh, tea please. And all the rest.

He kissed her hard. Coming up, madam. You just stay right here. But you know this means I'll be horny all day. I'll have to find somewhere I can fuck you when we're out. He left and she lay, listening to the sounds from the kitchen, birdsong on the trees outside the flat.

They ate lazily in bed, and as she munched toast, sitting up, the crumbs trickled down her breasts and stomach, onto her naked lap. Sandy took the empty plate from her and started licking the crumbs, tickling her breasts and belly. He licked lower, parted her legs so he could tongue up the soft insides of her thighs. Less tickly now: she squirmed slightly as his tongue lapped into her sex. He looked up from his efforts into her smiling eyes: Now this is a new taste for me Red, toastcrumbs with cunthoney. Mm, love it, and he pulled her down so she was lying flat, his head bent to the task again.

She lay back as he lapped her out, relishing every movement of his tongue, his lips. As her moisture began to flow he licked more vigorously, tongue starting to flick her rising clit now, and she felt the growing warmth as her arousal became more insistent.

Oh Sandy, now you have to make me cum. Suck my clit please lover...ahhh yes...

Red, the taste and smell of you, feeling you move, so good...a delicious way to begin the day, and his lips pursed round her clit, sucking.

Her hips were off the bed now, all her focus on the sensations in her sex. Sandy, please, put your fingers in me, and she felt the surge of fullness as he complied.

Now my sweet, I have to make you orgasm, and his fingers and mouth began a pattern of sweet torment till she was writhing and moaning, hips jerking her cunt up into his face. He was making sounds into her now and the vibrations stimulated her nerve-ends till she felt the orgasm welling from deep within...ohhfucksandy, bite my clit softlyplease, and this final tease set her into a tight spasm. A wet finger slickly probed just into her anus and she felt the hardness of his nose rub her clit roughly. She exploded on his face, whimpering. His mouth was softer on her now but she could bear no more sensation, roughly pulled his hair so his head rose from her sex.

He wriggled up the sheets and kissed her, beard and moustache spreading her own honey on her face. She opened her eyes, smiled into him: Well Sandy -- still trembling -- thank you so much for breakfast. But now, don't you think it's time to take your client off on a day's adventure? I promise I'll repay you for this, later.

Yes, boss, it's half-past-seven, and I need to be back in town for six. Let's move. And yes, you will repay me for that, I'll make sure I claim it.

2

They were on the road just after eight, picnic in Sandy's backpack. Red had decided not to delay things by going back to Ma Docherty's to change. She had clean panties and stockings in her purse.

The car joined a queue to get onto the motorway and they crawled in ten lanes of jams over a big river-bridge. Look left for the city centre, said Sandy, and she thought the strange jumble of Victorian and modern buildings was almost pretty in the morning sunwash.

After the bridge the traffic speeded up and they took the left fork: 'M77 Kilmarnock, Ayr.' They were climbing through suburbs, pasture with horses, onto a high moor. Sandy kept the foot down at a steady seventy-five and soon there was a distant vista of farmland and towns spreading before them to the seashore; a mountainous island in the distance. The sun glinted off rocks and snow on the cloudless jaggy summits.

Hey Sandy, this is gorgeous. What's that island? 

Isle of Arran, one of Scotland's favourite places. Well, mine, anyway. I've done just about every climb on those mountains.

It looks almost enchanted Sandy, maybe I wanna go there. 

It's only two hours from Glasgow, an hour to the ferry at Ardrossan, an hour's crossing. It's certainly worth visiting, lots of lovely and interesting things and places. And of course the mountains. But it doesn't always look like this: it gets a lot of rain. 

They passed a big town and the land became more pastoral, deciduous woodland and lush green fields full of cattle. Sandy, tell me about your marriage?

Still a bit sore, lass. Not right now, if you don't mind.

They lapsed into comfortable silence. Turned left at a big roundabout, an airport on the right, the island still beyond the shore. OK man, here's an easier one. Tell me how roundabouts work? We don't have any in Canada, at least not that I know. And if I'm hiring a car, I need to...be aware.

They work fine Red. The basic principle is, you signal in advance which way you want to go, get into the appropriate lane, give way to traffic already on the roundabout, coming from your right. You'll see in a few minutes, I'm turning right into Ayr on the next one.

And past the airport, there was the big roundabout roadsign. Sandy signalled right to go into Ayr, moved into the right-hand lane as they approached. Pulled onto the roundabout when it was clear and headed into town. 

Red, if you're not sure about our traffic, my insurance will cover you driving this car. Before you hire, would it help if you get used to driving my car, with me advising you? 

Oh hon, you're so sweet. Yes, that would be wonderful. I've been watching carefully as you drive, but I'm a bit nervous about this wrong-side-of-the-road stuff. 

I don't think you'll find it to difficult to adapt Red. I've never had a problem in Europe, or Canada. Let's start you later today, when we're on quieter roads. They passed a racecourse and the traffic got heavier as they neared the town centre. 

Ayr's an ancient burgh, he said. Was an important port, before Glasgow was dredged to handle big ships. West coast, so lots of trade with the Americas in the seventeen-hundreds. Burns wrote:

'Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a toon surpasses, For honest men and bonnie lasses.'

But I have the bonniest ever lass sitting right next to me. What a lucky guy! 

They were going through the town centre now and he pointed out eighteenth- and nineteenth-century buildings: We're heading south for Alloway. When Robert Burns was born there, it was a country village. Now it's a suburb of Ayr.

Through tree-lined avenues of fine sandstone Victorian villas in rich gardens. Hey, not so many poor folk here Sandy?

No. Back in the eighties, when Scotland was swept by rejection of Mrs Thatcher, this was one of the last havens of Conservative politics in the country. He smiled. Then the bastards even lost Ayr!

I take it you're not a Conservative then?

No, hardly. Old-fashioned socialist me. Not a Tony Blair fan, far less a Tory. Now, we're nearly there. He drew into a carpark and escorted her by an ancient low thatched cottage. There were gardens and Victorian buildings behind. 

The birthplace of Robert Burns, he explained. Agricultural labourer, poet and songwriter, later farmer and exciseman. A quite extraordinary man Red, have you heard of him?

Mm, sorry Sandy, I don't think so. Didn't pay much attention to poetry at school I'm afraid. Or since.

Maybe. Tell me, in Ontario what you traditionally sing at New Year?

Uh, Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot, of course. Goof!

Thought so. Auld Lang Syne. By Robert Burns. He hummed it. Probably one of the first examples in the world of a genuinely internationally-popular poet. In fact, still one of the few.

Her laughter tinkled in his ear: OK, so the guy's famous. And I knew one of his songs. Sorry I hadn't realised it. But you -- and this museum -- are going to educate me. I kinda feel it coming up. He kissed her cheek and they entered the museum. He spoke non-stop, but she was getting used to that, listened intently. 

After the museum proper, they toured the cottage where the guy was born, seventeen-something. Humans lived in one end, animals the other. In the same building. Stout wooden artisan furniture, fabric mostly wool and linen. What we had here before Carolina cotton, Sandy said. She was moved by the dire poverty of this existence. And a world-famous poet was born here?

I've been to folk museums in Southern Ontario, and the cottages looked a bit like this, she whispered, quite in awe at the strangeness. But they didn't produce world-famous poets. And they're built of wood.

They were in the kitchen of the cottage, burnished copper pots and pans by the fireside. Nobody else in the building. He moved to her, kissed her urgently. As they closed together she felt his cock hard under the kilt. I need to fuck you soon, Red, he whispered, fingers moving up her thighs. She shuffled her legs apart and his fingers moved higher, stroking silkily, probing cautiously. Oh Red, I don't know what you've done to me lassie. 

His fingers found soft wetness under her panties and she sighed, her fingers now searching beneath his kilt. Touched his throbbing prick, stroked.

Sounds at the door and, sighing, their fingers slipped from each other, clothes dropped modestly.

Maybe it's time to move on Red?

Maybe. She glanced at her watch: ten-thirty. Where next, tourguide?

Lots of choices lass. Nearby there's a ruined abbey, a fine Adam mansion on the site of an ancient castle, an industrial museum with a steam railway, fishing villages, views of Ireland, lots more. You choose.

She glanced at him demurely. Well, tourguide, that's some choice! What's a poor Canadian woman to do?

Choose, numpty!

OK, I choose...a ruined abbey, and a view of Ireland. First. And a driving lesson, remember?

He kissed her as the family burst into the room: So, that's where we're going Red. Ruined abbey, view of Ireland, driving lesson.

3

They walked back to the car and he opened her door for her. Bent to lick her knee. She shivered. The abbey's maybe twenty minutes away Red. It's called Crossraguel. We'll go by backroads so you can drive once we're out of town.

He talked her through the controls as he drove. They all seemed pretty straightforward to her, except of course the gearstick and handbrake were on the wrong side. Mm, sorry Red, I'd forgotten something. This has a manual gearbox, not so many automatics in the UK. Can you use a manual box OK?

Sure, my winter truck's manual. Much better control on snow and ice.

Good. He pulled into a farm entrance. Your turn madam.

They changed round and she adjusted seat and mirrors, ran through the gearbox, checked the stalks for indicators, lights, horn. She was more excited than nervous, relishing the challenge. Pulled away cautiously. Slowed right down into the verge to let an oncoming car pass.

You were quite right to do that, he said. I think some of our roads are a bit narrower than yours? 

Uh, sure are! I'll just need to be careful till I get used to it all. But at least they all seem to be blacktop, minor roads in Ontario are often dirt. She focused on driving, getting used to the gearbox, the whole wrong-way-round thing. As her dress slipped up her thighs, Sandy couldn't resist a wee stroke.

Hey, cut it out man, I do not need any distraction right now! He blushed, withdrew his hand, mumbled apologies. They were on a busier, wider road now, pretty solid with big trucks. She was beginning to relax a little as her confidence grew. Presently she saw stone ruins ahead on the left.

This is Crossraguel Abbey Red, carpark's just coming up. She drew in and switched the car off. Then sat still for a few moments. 

So, how did you find that, lass? Looked to me like you were doing fine, and I didn't feel nervous at any point. So you get my thumbs-up!

She held her hands up: Well, I'm shaking! But you're right, for some reason I wasn't nervous when I was driving. I'm sure it's like anything else, I just need to get used to it.

Much of the Abbey was in a ruinous state, but some parts were intact, and the remains were obviously well cared-for, set in pretty lawns and flowers. It was first established in the late thirteenth century, Sandy explained, by a branch of the Benedictine Order. Rebuilt over the years: you can see the main surviving stonework came from two very different quarries. As with almost every Abbey in Scotland, after the reformation it fell into disuse. Most of the physical ruination was probably the work of locals raiding it for ready-hewn masonry.

He guided her round, pointing out features of architectural and historical significance. There were no other visitors on a spring weekday and, tour complete, Red started frolicking and teasing him, playing hide-and-seek through the ruins. 

She knew just how horny he must be, wanted to make his consummation fun. As she escaped from him into a sheltered sunlit corner, she suddenly found something of interest on a wall, and leaned over to examine it. So when Sandy arrived in pursuit, she was bent threequarters over from the waist, legs straight, dress hugging her ass and raised well up her thighs by her posture.

Sandy stopped. There was something just so incredibly erotic about the way she was standing. He felt his cock engorge, moved behind her. Knelt, started licking the backs of her stocking-covered knees. Licked up as she shuffled her legs wider, pushed the dress up her back, tongued up the back of her thighs, onto her flesh above the stockings. Christ, he loved her smell, sweat and arousal mixed. Her legs were wide apart now and he pulled her panty-covered ass-cheeks apart, tongued into her arsecrack. She felt his hot breath through the cotton, felt the wetness of his tongue seep through the thin material. Neither spoke.

He unclipped stockings from suspender-belt, unfastened the belt. Pulled her panties down sufficiently to lick into her naked bumcrack, tongue her anus so she twinged. Pulled her panties right down so she could step out of them. Stood and lifted his kilt. He had seldom been so excited in his life. Fingered her wet cunt, slid his dripping cock into her waiting hole. And fucked her hard, ferally, pure animal-lust. He was groaning now as his cock plundered her vagina, deep and hard. Felt the contraction in his balls, the flash of electricity the length of his member. Plunged hard again into her, cocktip hitting her cervix, felt the awful surge as his spunk sprayed her womb. She moaned then. He bent to kiss the back of her exposed neck, licked into the hairline, behind her ears. Oh Red, you have no idea how much I needed that my dear, thank you. She stood and turned so his cock slipped from her, kissed his mouth slackly. He was trembling now, returned the kiss unsteadily.

Well, you know I owed you one, she smiled, mischief and affection in her eyes. And this was my first churchfuck, glancing at the ruins around them. Well, sorta.

4

Half-an-hour later they were on a winding coastal road, fields sloping down to clifftops, sea sparkling blue. Pull into this layby Red. They got out of the car. Now, look south over the sea, he said. See the conical island? She could hardly miss it, it was pretty prominent. That's Ailsa Craig. Sailors used to call it Paddy's Milestone, as it's supposed to be about halfway from Glasgow to Belfast. It used to have granite quarries. Ever played curling? 

Sure, in our part of the world it's a big sport. And lots of fun, even more skill. Remember we have winter around seven months of the year?

Well, Ailsa Craig used to be the source of all the world's best curling-stones. Or so I'm told. Maybe you should get a pic for your curling friends back home? Now, behind it, on the south horizon, see anything?

Yeah, looks like land.

That's Ireland Red, the north Antrim coast.

She turned to kiss him: Wow, it's so near!

Maybe fifteen to twenty miles from here. Ireland and Scotland have always been close, physically and culturally. 

She busied herself with photographs for a moment, till her stomach rumbled loudly. 

Shit, sorry Red, I've been neglecting the inner girl. Or at least, that aspect of the inner girl! It's about midday, fancy some lunch?

Thought you'd never ask, goof! Where can we go for our picnic?

On Sandy's direction she drove them to Dunure, an old fishing village perched round a tiny harbour. They lunched on a sward of grass above the harbour, overlooking a ruined castle. The sun was shining and the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze. Somehow they couldn't stop gazing into each other's eyes, between eating, and feeding scraps to boldly inquisitive seagulls.

Sandy lay back on the warm grass, shut his eyes. Maybe it's time I told you more about me Red. I grew up in Edinburgh, came to Glasgow to study at University. My main subject was Scottish Literature, and that's mostly what my University teaching career has been about. Met Jean at Uni, we were married before we graduated. Once we had jobs we bought a flat -- the one I still live in. She taught History in secondary school, still does, cept she's a head teacher now, runs a big school.

When we were young -- remember we were students in the sixties, early seventies -- we were quite permissive with each other. We both slept around when the fancy took us. Threesomes a few times when we could find a friend, male or female, who wanted to play. 

That stopped when the boys came along and we became a respectable married couple. All our energies went into our jobs and our kids. We just neglected the relationship between ourselves. Pretty common story I think. We were an economic and child-rearing unit. We seldom touched each other, and when we did it was for a hard release-fuck. The love seemed to have gone.

Then as the boys grew older, we both started messing around with other partners. Trying to fill a void maybe, I'm describing, not defending myself. By the time they left home to go to University there was nothing left and we were both in our late forties. One day we sat down and started talking to each other, as we hadn't for a long time. Decided we had to stop messing, and get back to trying to make our marriage work again.




Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 03



And we did, for a time. Had a few lovely holidays together, just the two of us. Supported each other in our careers. Became grandparents. The affection, and the sex, remained strong, and we made each other happy. For a few years.

Then one of my students started coming onto me. Just a young lassie, twenty, pretty good-looking. She was, for some reason, lusting hard for me. It happens between teacher and student. But this time I gave in. This was about three years ago. Even fucked her in my office in the Uni, though that could have been professional suicide. 

Jean found out, smelled her on my cock one evening when I hadn't yet showered and Jean wanted me long before bed-time. She didn't tell me then that she knew, just clambered on top and fucked me hard after she'd sucked my cock. But as she later told me, she had smelled the girl's sex on me.

Something in her just turned off after that, she told me later. She had a close male colleague, she told him about it, they became lovers -- and then one day she told me she knew the whole story, walked out with a suitcase. And began divorce proceedings.

Sorry Red, I've been too ashamed to tell you. I've been so totally disgusted at myself. But it's done, and the divorce is nearly through now.

He opened his eyes and she was leaning above him, strange look on her face. Well honey, I'm happy with it. Very selfishly; it meant you wanted to fuck me. For you? Well, I hardly know you, do I? Sorry, I know you're still pretty cut up about it all. Thanks so much for trusting me with it. But it sounds like it's totally finished, eh?

Och, I know it is, and I'm starting to adapt. Greatly assisted by you, these last couple of days. Never thought my new tourguiding career could be such fun!

OK, well, it's time to get back to it. She leaned to kiss him. Didn't you say something about a castle nearby? Remember, I'm your client?

So you are. He sat up, cleared the remains of the picnic into the backpack. So, Culzean Castle next, client?

She drove, getting more confident by the minute, followed his instructions. They turned into a driveway overhung by ancient trees, followed it for a bit, parked. Think I'm getting the hang of this now, your wrong-way-round driving. She wasn't trembling any more.

They walked through trees and myriad rhododendrons, first flowers just starting to show. Onto a bridge, and there was Culzean Castle before her. Hey Sandy, that is some place!

They stopped and gazed at the terraced garden below the majestic buildings, and he spoke briefly about its history. It's not really a castle, more a Georgian mansion built over and round an older building. Most of what you see was by Robert Adam, Scotland's -- maybe the UK's -- foremost Georgian architect. Er, Georgian means late seventeen-hundreds, early eighteen-hundreds. Want to have a look lass?

They waited for a few minutes inside the building, then joined a guided tour. Red was gobsmacked by the rich architecture, decoration, furniture, paintings. Hey, Sandy, I have never in my life seen anything like this. All around two hundred years old, huh?

Well, the building is. Some of the contents are a bit more recent I think. They were in the formal dining-room on the south side of the building and the rest of the tour had moved on. He grasped her firmly by the waist, pulled her to him. Kissed her mouth. I'm very glad you're enjoying yourself Red. Released her and they rejoined the rest of the party. She was tingling.

The tour ended in the kitchens. Red was fascinated by the copper implements, the serried ranks of plates and dishes. As the rest of the party left Sandy moved behind her, stiffening cock pulsing through the kilt into her ass.

She turned to kiss him: Sandy, I can't get enough of you...or Scotland. What are you doing after I leave you to go exploring myself?

He shuffled. She noticed his cock harden further. I've other clients in a couple of days, but just for three days. After that, not too much, lass. Not a lot that I couldn't ...put off. 

Paying you more just isn't in my budget Sandy, so I can't do it. But I'd like to spend more time with you. I think you know that? She squirmed against him, kissed his mouth. And I think you'd like to spend more time...uh...with me? How about we just have a nice holiday together? Strictly 50:50?

She felt his cock under the kilt as he hugged her, nose in her ear. I have to say that sounds good, lass, he murmured. But I'm not sure it's a good idea. For either of us. Need to think about it a bit.

Sure honey. Hey, what's the time now?

He glanced at his watch: Nearly four.

Can we grab a coffee round here? Then maybe we'd better head back?

They made their way out of the building, across a courtyard, into what he told her used to be the stables block. He was gripping her waist firmly. Should get coffee here, client.

They sat and ordered, and the prim waitress bought coffee and carrot-cake. He looked carefully at Red as they sipped and munched. So you want a free guide and fuckbuddy for the rest of your trip?

No, hon, I want YOU. She slipped her hand under his kilt, felt him stirring. Tell me later, when you've thought about it.

5

Red drove all the way back, and just over an hour later they were in the city. She followed his directions off the motorway and parked outside Ma Docherty's. They were both a bit bewildered by the day, what had happened between them. Kissed demurely when they were out of the car. So I'll get you at nine in the morning, he said. Sure you'll be OK tonight?

I'll be fine Sandy. They kissed again, and she disappeared into the house. He drove the couple of blocks home, a quite confused man.

She chatted briefly with Ma Docherty, then lay down on her bed, thinking about the day. She wasn't sure her holiday proposal to Sandy had been well-timed, but she knew he wasn't going to suggest it. And she really wanted to be with him. How stupid was that? A guy she hardly knew, practically old enough to be her father, and whom she probably wouldn't see again in her life after she went home. But she relished him, mind and body, wanted more.

Glanced at her travel alarm, six-thirty, knew she had to move. Her date was at seven-thirty, Alison was collecting her. Ran a sinfully deep bath, poured in scented oil, lay soaking, wondering. Noticed stubble just starting to appear, shaved herself. Eventually struggled from the soothing water, dried, scented. Tried to decide what to wear, chose something slinky and sexy. Alison was interesting, and hey! This was a holiday!

Red was waiting downstairs, chatting with Ma Docherty. The doorbell rang dead on seven-thirty, and there was Alison, swirling in elegant chiffon -- or maybe it was silk?

Hello Red, so how's your trip so far? She was gorgeous, tall, statuesque. Red impulsively kissed her. On the mouth. Felt Alison's response. Mm...

My trip is great, so far, and all the better for seeing you tonight honey. I'll tell you all about it over dinner. Where are we going, you're the expert?

Depends what you're into Red. This city offers a pretty complete range of culinary choice. But it has an especially good selection from the Indian sub-continent. If you like curries?

Yeah, hot and spicy, I'm for that! What do you suggest?

There is a totally amazing place in Maryhill, the Killermont Polo Club. It's not a fashionable part of town, but the food is to die for. At least in my view. Fancy trying it?

Uh, you're the boss Alison. But won't we need to book?

I did, provisionally. I'll just confirm, and she pulled a cellphone from her bag, spoke briefly. OK, done, she announced. I'm a regular there, they know me. Now, let's go?

They settled into the tiniest car Red had ever seen, a two seater: Hey, what's this Alison?

A Smart. First car really designed for city living, she laughed. It parks nose-in to the pavement, it's just as long as most normal cars are wide. So you can get into the tiniest parking-spaces. Actually it's made by Mercedes, but it's so downmarket they had to brand it differently. Least, I presume that's why it's called 'Smart'!

It was kinda cool, Red decided, and very much a woman's car. But then, Alison was very much a woman. After fifteen minutes' drive through rather unprepossessing suburbs Alison turned into the grounds of the restaurant: a two-storey Victorian villa set behind a wooded carpark. Which was mainly occupied by Jaguars, Rovers, BMWs, Red noticed.

6

They were shown to their table by a smiling Indian man in formal evening dress, right down to the silk cummerbund. The table was set into a bay window, looking out in the last of the evening light over flowerbeds.

There are two choices here, Red: the formal menu; or there's a buffet laid out next door with a huge choice. Eat as much as you want of whatever you want. Maybe we should go look at the buffet before we decide? But I'll order drinks first. Alison nodded to the waiter, looked a question at Red: What do you fancy?

Uh, what's best with Indian food? I'm not much of an expert. Not so many Indian restaurants in northern Ontario!

Personally I prefer beer, it's nice and cool and cleansing with hot food. They have some really nice Indian lager here: Cobra. That's what I'm having. 

OK, I'll go with that, a pint of Cobra please.

The waiter moved to the bar and Alison directed her through to the buffet room. Red glanced around at the cabinets: starters, salads, main courses, sweets. Hey, I'm lost here, I've never seen anything like this. Would you guide me please Alison?

Alison brushed Red's thigh as they bent to select starters. She knew the Canadian could see her breasts. 

They returned to their table, plates laden with food. Fish and vegetable pakoras, dips, raita, popadums and spiced onion. You'll probably find it easier just to use your fingers for the starters, said Alison as the waiter helped them spread large linen napkins on their laps. Now, GO!

Red gazed at Alison as they nibbled, wondering. The food was incredibly tasty, but not as hot as she'd expected. The older woman raised her head and their eyes met. So, Red, tell me how you're liking Scotland? How are you finding your way about?

Red gave her an edited version of her travels, and Sandy. Sounds like a nice guy, Alison said. And I saw your look when you mentioned him. So I take it you go both ways?

Hey, now you are a very forthright girl, Red exclaimed. Sometimes, yeah. Depends on with whom.

Well, taken as read, of course. But you have the hots for this guy? And you're interested in me too?

Red was very unused to this degree of directness. Umm. Yes on both counts Alison. She had found it hard to respond, but couldn't resist the woman's piercing gaze, couldn't dissemble.

Alison leaned forward and stroked Red's knee. Then up onto her thigh. Red shivered at the woman's smile, straight into her eyes. Returned to her plate, more tasty nibbles. But Alison reached further, teased the edges of her panties and Red gasped. I want you, Alison said. I've wanted you since I saw you sitting in the Oran Mor. And I don't normally behave like this, certainly not on a first date. Now, d'you want more starters, or move onto the main course?

Red felt out of her depth for the first time since she'd landed in Scotland. I think I want to sample the main course now, Alison. The food, that is. As to the other, I think I may want that too. I have to tell you that I have already had very good sex today. Twice. Hope that's not a problem?

Alison rose from the table, took Red's hand, led her back to the buffet room. She advised Red on the different curries available. Red settled on lamb rogan josh, basmati rice, paratha, mango chutney. Alison's choice was milder, chicken dhansak and garlic nan. Alison fingered Red's ass unobtrusively as they returned to the table with laden plates. She pursed her lips at Red as they sat.

Hey honey, I never knew lamb could just melt like that, Red breathed after a mouthful. Not something we eat a lot at home. She dived hungrily into her meal. Alison had ordered Red a second beer, but water for herself.

As the meals disappeared they started talking to each other more personally. Red caught Alison looking at her as a man might, quite predatorily. Blushed, returned Alison's look with a smile. She leaned forward, whispered, Alison, sorry, when you look at me like that my cunt gets wet...

Good then, replied Alison in a normal voice. I hope that means you're coming back to my place for a nightcap?

Red couldn't ever remember anyone, man or woman, being so boldly sexual with her after just a couple of hours. She was tingling, felt her panties getting damp.

They hastened to have a sweet, kulfa and gulab jamun, and Red drained her beer. Alison was paying the bill and Red tried to pay half, but the older woman brushed her aside as the waiter took her card: I think we might meet again before you leave Scotland Red, that can be your turn. Now lets get the hell out of here, I'm dripping into my pants.

Mm, I need to feel how wet you are honey. Alison turned to her as they moved outside the door, slid her fingers up Red's smooth thigh, stroked her cunt through the panties. Oh fuck, I want you Red. 

Alison kissed her mouth, lingered, then led her by the hand to the car. Inside they embraced passionately, fingers up each others' skirts, probing into wetness beyond panties. Fuck, you are so hot Red. I can't tell you how I felt when you phoned. My fingers went straight to my clit, I came as you put the phone down. Now let's get the hell home. It's not far, just round the corner.

Red hesitated. This woman was just too aggressive, much like a male on the hunt for cunt. Alison, NO, I can't, not tonight. Would you please take me back to Ma Docherty's? Red's mind was in confusion, but she had decided she didn't want this rather predatory woman tonight.

Alison's fingers tightened inside her, gradually relaxed. OK sister, but you do know I want you Red. Want to feel you, taste you, make you cum?

I know Alison, and you know you excite me. But...tonight's too soon, OK hon? Maybe another time? But Red knew it was never going to happen: she just couldn't cope with this woman's hunger.

Alison drove her back to Ma Docherty's and they kissed warmly before she left the car. But they both knew it wasn't going to happen.



Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 04



Author's note: As with any story in several chapters, it will help you follow this if you have read Chapters 1-3. I hope you will find it worth the reading.

1.

Sandy turned restlessly, glanced at his alarm. Six-thirty. He buried his head under the bedclothes and tried to get back to sleep, but he knew as he did so that it wasn't going to work. Red's holiday proposal was churning through his brain and he couldn't switch it off. There was no reason in principle why he shouldn't go with her. She had booked him for another two days tour-guiding, then she had planned to hire a car and tour herself. 

He had clients booked for three days after that; a couple of middle-aged American women. His dairy was thereafter flexible until Red's flight back to Toronto. He had a few things to work on, but if he decided to go with Red, he could take his laptop and deal with his business whilst they were on holiday.

His engagement the previous evening had gone smoothly. It had been a dinner with his agent and publisher, to discuss the new book he was near to completing. This was a pretty arcane piece of literary history, as his few previous publications had been; in this case a reappraisal of the Scots novelist Neil Gunn. It had taken him two years so far, and would of course never be a big-selling volume. But he was pleased with it; and so, more importantly, were his agent and publisher. It was high time Gunn got his place back in the literary firmament, and Sandy hoped his book would help that rehabilitation along. The long-dead man deserved it, he was an amazing writer.

Sandy really relished the opportunity of Red's company for another two weeks or so. Too much, that was the problem. She wasn't just a casual fuck for him, whatever he might be for her. She was getting under his skin and he knew it could never work out. He knew himself well enough to understand he was heading for a hard fall. 

On the other hand, he reasoned, she was already under his skin. He couldn't undo that. To turn down her holiday proposal would just be a bit of harsh self-denial. He liked her, loved her vivacious company. And her delicious sex. So why not go with her? He wasn't rich, but he could afford to take an unplanned break. And she was obviously keen for him to be with her.

He touched his cock. He resisted the temptation to masturbate: he knew that whatever they did today – they had made no firm plans – they would have sex somewhere. He was pushing sixty and didn't have the sexual stamina he'd once enjoyed. And he most certainly didn't want to disappoint her. 

So, smiling, he got out of bed and peeked through the curtains. It looked like another lovely day. He showered, dressed, and made a pot of Darjeeling. He'd do a bit of work for an hour or so, picking up on a couple of points that had arisen over dinner last night. Then think about a programme for the day with Red, whilst he made breakfast.

He met Red at Ma Docherty's at nine sharp and they hugged warmly on the doorstep. So tourguide, what delights have you lined up for me today? she asked, gently biting his earlobe.

Mm, he squirmed: It's a gorgeous morning and the forecast's good. Another day in the country maybe? I packed a picnic, just in case. He ushered her to the driver's door. If you're OK driving, madam?

Yeah, I'm getting the feel of it, that's fine, and she turned to him as he climbed in. He melted under her smile. Red, you just have no idea what you do to me, he murmured, leaning to kiss her. Now, I thought we might head northwest a bit, have a look at Loch Lomond, and maybe a mansion by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. How does that sound lassie?

She hugged him and licked his throat: Sounds great Sandy. But I have something terrible to tell you...

His face clouded: What darling? The word was out before he realised it. Shit, he hadn't intended to use that endearment.

She kissed him softly and fingered his cock through the kilt: I'm real horny today, goof. Horny for you. And I expect you to deal with it sometime soon. Client's instructions!

He returned her kiss, fingers stroking her breast: I think I can deal with that OK; lass. So let's get moving, I can't do it here. Unless you want to visit my flat first?

Mmm, tempting...But hey! It's a lovely morning, let's go al fresco again, huh?

As she drove, they gave each other edited versions of their adventures the previous evening. Presently they were out of the city and leaving leafy suburbs behind, moving up into rolling sheep-clad hills As the car neared a wooded summit Sandy said: There's a viewpoint here Red: the Queen's View. Bear left into the carpark. 

Once she parked she could concentrate on the stunning view ahead: rolling moorland down to an island-studded lake (loch! she reminded herself), with high mountains around and beyond. At this time on a weekday morning, no other cars were parked here.

Hey Sandy, that's some view!

It's called Queen's View because allegedly it was a favourite of Queen Victoria, he said. That's Loch Lomond down there, and the start of the Highlands beyond. Fancy a wee walk? He glanced at her shoes. Today she was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and trainers.

Uh, yeah. Where're we going? He pointed to where a path led up a gentle hillside to their left: Just up to that wee summit to get a better view, he said: Are you game? It's only half-a-mile. Better grab your jacket, it might get windy.

Hey, old guy, you sure you can make it? He slapped her knee lightly: I'm at least as fit as you are girl, now come on! They climbed a stile over a stone dyke and wandered up the path. Scots bluebells studded the lower reaches of the path.

He put his arm companionably round her waist. Course I do want you to get a better view from up there, he said, but I have an ulterior motive. He pulled her to him for a kiss, hands firmly on her arse. His fingers massaged her muscles. 

As their lips parted she asked innocently: Oh Sandy! An ulterior motive? Now what could that be honey? He kissed her again, with uncharacteristic aggression, and bit her lobe not-so-gently.

I have something to tell you Red. When we get to the right spot. Now, let's get up this brae, and he took her hand and strode up quickly. She almost fell as he pulled, but caught her balance and moved fast till she was leading him. Turned and blocked his way, looked coyly at him from under her eyebrows: Have you decided if we're going to have a holiday together Sandy?

He put his hand under her shirt and pinched her left nipple: You'll find out in due course Red. The other hand went to her jean-clad groin, roughly. This was a new Sandy, or at least one she hadn't seen before. Now, he growled, come on. I need to fuck you. Soon.

A few minutes later they breasted the summit. He waited whilst she took photos. Now girl, we're going down here, and he pulled her off the path, down a rough heather-strewn slope, into a wee valley. He was clearly going somewhere in particular and she followed, getting aroused now. 

She knew what this was about. The twig-like heather scratched her through her jeans and he pointed as a big rabbit rose before them, a strangely-coloured one. It louped lazily off out of sight. Mountain hare, he turned and said: Just moving from winter white coat to summer blue. They're rare this far south, we're lucky to have seen it.

He moved behind an outcrop of rock and she followed. A patch of sunlit grass lay beside a stream. It was so sheltered that not a leaf stirred. She was sweating from the walk and felt the sun on her face. 

He spread his jacket on the grass and turned to her: Ohfuck I need you Red. He kissed her hard as his fingers went to the zip of her jeans and unfastened her. He knelt to plunge his face into her crotch, scenting her through her panties. He unlaced her trainers and slipped them off, then slid the jeans and panties over her thighs and helped her step from them. He stood and pulled her jacket and shirt off so she was before him, naked and vulnerable. He quickly stripped. Pulled her down onto the jacket on the ground. She complied: she was very aroused now. 

He knelt between her legs and eagerly licked her wet cunt out, roughly, insistently, moustache and beard scraping her softness.

Red you are turning me into a sexanimal, he said, lifting her thighs to her shoulders and licking into her anus. Are you sure you can cope with another fortnight of me? He rose on his knees now, eyes drilling into hers. She shuddered as his finger entered her vagina.

I think – she squirmed a little – I already asked you to be with me Sandy?

You're quite sure? He smiled into her, something new there she couldn't measure. He had three fingers in her now, stroking softly, a thumb rubbing her clit.

Sandy, of course I'm sure...ahhh

Good. Because I want to be with you Red, I don't know what you've done to me. But. 

She glanced a question: But?

But, he said, raising her knees to her ears again, wet finger gently probing her arsehole now. But I need to fuck your arse darling. Not often, but sometime. He released her legs and knelt back, looking straight into her eyes. But he saw fright and confusion. 

Shit, he thought, that was mad, I've blown it with her.

Red propped herself up on her arms, all confusion gone now. She glared at him, in sorrow as much as anger, he thought. But anger there was.

So let me just get this right Mr. Sandy Tourguide. You will agree to holiday with me only if I give you my ass? Just what sort of a deal is that Mr Niceguy? 

Nobody ever had my ass willingly, and I already told you, it's not available. To you or anybody. Full. Fucking. Stop. And I was really getting to like you, to respect you. She was pulling on her clothes.

Well fuck off, right out of my life, she said. Is there a bus service on that road down there? I'll pay you for your two remaining days as I've booked you, but I'll be fine on my own from now on.

Sandy shrank before her, head in his hands. He'd blown it beyond rescue. Hadn't left any room for either of them to come back. Stupid, stupid fucker. 

She was dressing now, still livid. He moved to gather his clothes, pulled them on hurriedly. When they were dressed they stood apart uneasily, looking into the distance as a buzzard soared above. He moved to face her, deep shame crumpling his face. Her eyes were stone. 

Red, I realise we maybe can't come back from there, but I am a deeply deeply sorry and stupid man. She turned and headed up the bank towards the path. He'd seen the tears in her eyes.

When they reached the summit of the path she turned to him, shaking. Sandy, you are one totally fucking stupid old man. I do not give myself to just anyone. I gave myself to you because you captivated me as a human being. As well – she smiled wanly at him through her tears – as well as feeling your sexual attraction. Intensely, in case you hadn't noticed. Now, in a few stupid words, you've destroyed it all. Please take me somewhere I can find a bus or train back to the city. She turned and strode off down the path. He slowly followed, rolling himself a cigarette in a vain effort to help himself concentrate.

When they got to the car she turned to him and he held her, kissed her gently. Red, my darling, he whispered, please forgive me. There is something deep between us and I'm a bit scared. And somehow you just drive me daft. But there is no excuse for what I just said, wanted to do. I know that.

She slapped his face hard: OK bastard. Now this woman's paying you to show her Scotland. So show her. But please understand, I am explosively angry at your stupidity and total insensitivity. Now let me get into the right frame of mind to drive, please. 

He recognised her deep-breathing exercises as she de-stressed herself, and once again admired her composure and self-confidence. She was a rare and wonderful woman, and he was consumed with regret and shame at his stupid lust-driven lapse. 

2.

As she started the car he tried to pull himself together and get into tourguide mode again. Turn left onto the road Red, keep going the way we were heading. A few miles along the road it forks and we have a choice. 

Turn right there and we head up the quiet side of the Loch. The road narrows and becomes single-track after a bit. There are lovely secluded lochside beaches, interesting woodland paths, and easy hillwalks if you're feeling energetic.

Turn left and we're heading for the tourist trail up the Loch. It offers boat cruises, and a very pretty old estate village called Luss which features in every Scottish calendar ever printed. Some gorgeous mountain panoramas, and lots of tourist shops. Take your pick. I'll warn you when the junction's coming up.

The road dipped from the high moorland, through deciduous woods, and onto wide flat meadows. The junction's coming soon Red, which way do you fancy? Sandy asked.

Uh, right is quiet and secluded, left is the tourist trail? I'm for quiet and secluded, Red said. And they headed up the east side of the Loch. When they were entering the village of Balmaha, Sandy said: After this the road becomes single-track, and there are a few blind summits which need a slow approach and fast reflexes, in case a vehicle's coming the other way. Want me to take the driving now?

She gave him a withering glance: I know what a single-track road is, goof. I think I'll manage. He shrugged, smiling at her now. He felt something of their easiness together returning. That's OK Red, he grinned: I just thought I should warn you. 

The road curved round a bay with small yachts at moorings, wee wooded islands rising behind them. She pulled in to park at the kerb so she could look properly, and noticed a small red motorboat with 'Royal Mail' emblazoned on it.

That's how the postman gets to the islands, Sandy said. Quite a few of them are inhabited. One's a naturist resort.

Nice work for the postman, she smiled. Have you visited the naturist island Sandy? 

Not yet lassie. Fancy a trip? 

Uh, no. Can't we just make do with a secluded bay? she teased. 

He was so glad that she was recovering her usual sense of humour, after his stupid breach of her trust. She started the car again, slowed sensibly as they passed the sign warning: 'Single-Track Road. Please Use Passing Places'. The car climbed up a steep wooded hill and she hit the brakes as an ancient Land-Rover zoomed over the summit in front of them and flurried to a halt in the ditch. After the farmer eased his vehicle past, Red slipped from the driver's door and moved round the car.

She kissed Sandy as he emerged from the passenger seat, hugged him: OK tourguide, maybe you better drive this bit after all. That did shake me a little.

Sandy pottered gently up the lane for a couple of miles till Red grabbed his knee: Now just stop right here please, Sandy. What on earth are these beasts? A herd of long-haired Highland cattle lowed in the field, some with their heads probing curiously over the dyke. Large fly-buzzed eyes regarded the humans balefully from under long golden fringes.

Ach, they're just Hielan Coos lassie, he laughed. I think the Tourist Board subsidises farmers to keep them, so visitors can take photos of them. They're rather curious-looking, aren't they? 

Red was out of the car with her camera, and the charismatic-looking cattle gazed imperturbably as she focussed on them. OK Sandy, I take it 'Hielan Coos' is Highland Cows? He nodded. Well, whatever they're called, they sure are cute. Her face dimpled. A bit like you Sandy – on a good day.

Now, as she returned to the car: Where are those secluded beaches you told me about? This girl's getting hungry. 

Sandy hoped that after his earlier shameful outburst, Red might still be hungry for him, but he knew in his heart the chances were against it. He drove another mile up the road, then turned left onto a rough track that had the car bumping in first gear over rocks and tree-roots as they wound between silver birch and willow. After half-a-mile he drew to a halt by a wee cove. 

The loch lapped gently on the small beach and a flock of colourful small birds flittered through the waterside alders, reds and yellows flashing in the sun. Just back from the lochside there was a patch of fine sunwashed greensward beneath a stand of Scots pines. Rounded heather-clad hills rose to the west, miles away on the other side of the loch. No people, no picnic-tables. Just solitude and quiet, soft birdsong apart. 

He turned to Red: Will this do you my dear?

She leaned to kiss his lips: Hey honey, this is just perfect.

He stretched a blanket on the soft grass beneath the pines, fetched the rucsac containing the picnic. Red stretched on the blanket, wriggled to get comfortable, turned to him as he sat by her. 

Sandy, she whispered, what on earth made you say what you did back there?

Red, I wish I knew, he replied. I was swept by lust. You know I care deeply for you, my dear? You know you're not just a casual opportunist fuck for me?

I think I realise that Sandy.

I was, well, I was very excited by your invitation to be with you for the rest of your holiday. I felt intensely flattered and privileged that you wanted me to be with you on that basis. In our couple of days together I have learned to respect you deeply. Not to mention what you do to me sexually. He looked her straight in her eyes, bent to kiss her gently. But...

She groaned: Ah, there's always a 'but'. 

But I can't help wanting your arse Red. You know that, and I know you've told me it is not available to me. I don't know why I spoke like that, back at Queen's View. 

I suppose...well, maybe I was trying to be dominant. That isn't how I really am, I hope you know that. I've repressed my sexual feelings for so long, and maybe I thought you and I had reached a stage when I could say that to you. I know I was totally wrong, that I misjudged you, my sweet. Please forgive me, if you can?

She reached up, drew his head down to her face: Honey, I know you're a good and complex man. All the best human beings are, complex that is. Her arm was around his neck and she pulled his mouth to hers, kissed him with care. 

Let me tell you something honey, she said. Something I've never told another human being. When I was a teenager, just fifteen, my uncle raped me. Not in the pussy. He raped my ass. I had loved him, trusted him. I don't need to tell you any more than that. It was agony and I hated every second of it. He forced me, it was total rape. Can you begin to understand how I feel about the idea of anyone in my ass?

There were tears in Sandy's eyes as he kissed her tenderly. I am so sorry darling, he said. I have no words to express to you how sorry I am. About what he did to you, and about what an insensitive bastard I've been. 

She quivered in his embrace for a moment: I've been learning to trust you Sandy, she said. You are truly such a lovely man. Let me trust you honey? Could we please have a lovely holiday together?

He raised his head and they gazed unblinkingly into each others' eyes for what seemed like an aeon. You can trust me Red, he whispered. You can trust me absolutely darling.

Good. She wriggled from his arms, mischief now in the twinkle of her eyes. So where's my picnic, tourguide?

3.

He drew the picnic from the rucsac and they ate in the wonderful tranquillity of the setting. He poured French Chardonnay for them both, had even brought wine-glasses this time, she noted. He must have got it really cold overnight, she thought, it was chilled just right now.

She had quite recovered from her anger. She recognised contrition when she saw it, and knew he wouldn't ever try and press her into anything she didn't want. After his one glass of wine he was sipping tea, she noticed, but he had filled her glass with wine again. 

Huh, tourguide, are you trying to get me relaxed so you can have your evil way with me? she smiled, sipping the fragrant wine.




Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 04



He looked embarrassed again and she laughed, pulled him to her. It's OK honey, I don't need alcohol to want you. She sat up and set the wine aside carefully. Removed her trainers. Stood before him to slip her jeans and panties down, then knelt on his face as he lay back in the sunshine. 

I told you I was horny for you Sandy. Now lick my pussy out please, I need to get off, right now.

He lapped at her scented dampness, his fingers reaching under the shirt for her pert breasts. Oh my sweet Red, he mumbled into her. The taste of her arousal was exquisite to him. He just wanted to be good for her. He lapped and sucked as she writhed on his face and he was soaked with her deliciousness. 

He felt her tense as her breath became ragged and pursed his lips lovingly round her clit. She jerked as he did this, started moving faster on his face. He was totally absorbed in his task, knew he needed to help bring her the orgasm she sought. He focussed entirely on her needs, fingers probing for her g-spot as his mouth stimulated her. 

He was rewarded when she began moaning, writhing faster on him. This was so special, he needed to show her his love, and one hand began pulling her nipples harder, sensing her want instinctively. He bit her clit softly and he knew from her contractions that he had found her g-spot and she screamed low, every muscle in her body spasming. Her juices flooded his face and she settled on him, still wriggling and gasping.

Red, I love you darling. Sorry, I know that shouldn't have happened, but I do.

She settled back on her haunches so her wet pussy was off his face. Ohh Sandy, I needed that honey. Needed to feel the real you, making love with me. I can feel your love every touch of your mouth, your fingers, on me.

But now – she glanced at her wrist – it's afternoon. She grinned down at him, saw her wetness on his face. And didn't you mention a Mackintosh mansion? I'd really love to see that.

He desperately wanted her now but knew it wasn't the time. He identified birds for her as he packed the picnic remains and she dressed herself. He nodded a question to her as he unlocked the car, but she grinned: I think I'll let you drive this bit Sandy. 

4.

Less than an hour later they were in Helensburgh, parking beside a big house surrounded by a huge carefully-tended garden. It was on the upper edge of this prim Victorian commuter town, and enjoyed a sweeping outlook south and west over the estuary and the hills of Cowal. The sign at the gate said: 'National Trust for Scotland. Hill House.'

He kissed her as she unbent from the car, told her a bit of the history of the house. She stood at the gate gazing at it. To be honest, it didn't seem like anything too special to her, just a big old house in a nice garden.

They walked through the garden and as they entered the building, he showed a card to the attendants. They were in a somewhat austere study, almost completely book-lined. He pointed to some of the volumes on the shelves and Red noticed they had strange art-nouveau jackets.

Walter Blackie, who commissioned Mackintosh to design this house for his family, was a leading publisher, he explained. This study holds many of the first editions he published. He had advanced tastes for the period, hence the book designs. And hence also his commission for Mackintosh to design his new home. Mackintosh was a revolutionary architect for the time.

In North American terms, Sandy continued, I suppose the nearest there is to Mackintosh is Frank Lloyd Wright. Except Wright was almost purely modernist, whereas Mackintosh's art-nouveau flourishes betrayed his romanticism. And parts of his buildings reflect his deep interest in Scottish vernacular architecture. I suspect Wright was less consistently influenced by tradition.

But, he continued, I think Wright and Mackintosh were similar in their revolutionary approach, in that both mainly put function before any other consideration. They designed buildings which were appropriate to their intended use, and used the sites and technology available to them to that end. That's one reason why Hill House doesn't seem so remarkable to modern eyes: it is so modern. Yet it's now over a century old. OK, end of lecture, Sandy smiled.

The main hall and stairway was like a cathedral on a small scale, Red thought. It was about space and light, and was designed around these concepts. In an alcove in the hall there was even a kids' play-area. She knew it was unheard-of in late Victorian times for children to be so publicly integrated into adult lives. As late as her Grandma, the motto had been 'Kids should be seen but not heard.' Not in the Blackie household apparently!

When they entered the main living-room she gasped. It was almost all in light colours, to reflect and absorb the light from the south-facing windows, and the minimalist decoration was exquisite, art-nouveau touches everywhere. What she would give to have such a gorgeous living-space, she reflected.

The rest of the house was more of the same, almost overpoweringly so. Except the dining-room, which was darker, more formal, and full of traditional Victorian furniture. 

The story is, Red, Sandy explained, that Blackie and Mackintosh almost fell out over this room. The architect felt that it compromised the style of the rest of the building, but Blackie insisted that it should be as you see it, a much more traditional space. He wanted it to be appropriate to the fine furnishings he had inherited, and as he was paying the fee, the architect had to go along with his ideas. I think it's not a bad compromise.

As a property professional Red understood well what Sandy had explained.

This is a quite amazing house, she told him over coffee in the restored kitchen of the building. To be honest, when we stood at the gateway and I first looked at it, I couldn't see much so special about it. Now I've seen it from the inside, and you have helped me to place it in its context, I think I'm beginning to understand why Mackintosh is so remarkable.

He leaned over the table and kissed her. Good, he said. I'm glad you liked it. I thought that given your professional interest in property, it was important you saw something of Glasgow's most famous architect.

5.

They wandered round the town on foot after they left Hill House. It was, Red thought, reassuringly North American in plan: an unyielding grid-iron laid on the landscape as it sloped from hills behind, down to the wide estuary of the Clyde. Helensburgh was, claimed Sandy, the first commuter suburb in the world which was created by steam power.

She was getting used to his claims of Scots inventiveness, and suspected that sometimes his patriotism pushed him to stretch history a little. So she enquired further on this point.

The Firth of Clyde, between Glasgow, Helensburgh, and Greenock, saw the first successful sea-going services in the world by steamboats, he explained. That was way back at the beginning of the nineteenth century. These revolutionary services enabled rich merchants from the city to establish summer homes for their families, in places like Helensburgh.

The families lived here in the good weather, and the merchants commuted at weekends by the new steamboat services. Of course, by the time the railway got here in the eighteen-fifties, they lived here all year and were commuting daily. It was maybe twenty-five miles by train to the city.

She admired the regular rectangles of pretty stone Victorian villas. The streets were almost universally lined with white and pink flowering cherries, just beginning to bloom on this fine spring afternoon. 

You know Sandy, she said: Of all the places you've shown me so far, I think if I lived in Scotland, and had a choice, this is where I'd prefer to live.

Aye, he smiled. I well understand that. A few years ago Jean and I were planning to retire here. I'm not so sure I'd move here on my own though. There's more for me in the West End of the city, however attractive this may appear.

After walking for an hour they arrived back at where the car was parked. It's late afternoon Red, he said. What do you want to do with the rest of the day, my dear?

She smiled at him: I want to be with you. And I'm aware that you have given me an explosive orgasm whilst I've given you nothing but a row. So I guess –her hand glanced at the bulge in his kilt – that I should expect you to need me at some stage. And I want to eat, sometime.

Oh, and you still haven't actually told me if you want to come on holiday with me. So, she licked her lips: Guess there are a few things in there to think about?

Quite so Red, he smiled. But that still doesn't tell me what you want to do now?

She put her arms round his waist, drew him to herself for a brief kiss. Sandy, know what I would really like to do now honey?

That, my dear, is precisely what I am trying to find out. Numpty! 

I want you to take me to your home and seduce me, she said. Then make me dinner. Or perhaps I'd prefer the reverse order, not too sure about that. But what I am sure about is, I want to be with you for the rest of my stay in Scotland. And I would really prefer waking with you in the mornings, to waking on my own. Starting tonight.

He drew breath, then pulled her tightly to him, smothered her face in urgent kisses. Darling, you must know I want to spend every second I can with you, for the rest of your time in Scotland. His erection pressed her belly and she wriggled deliberately to excite him further. 

She laughed as relief washed over her. I'm so glad Sandy. Now, you better drive me home. You need to get me there as fast as you can. I need fed and fucked by you. In no particular order. Maybe fucked, fed, and fucked again. Please?

He opened the passenger door for her and slid into the driving seat. As they approached the city twenty minutes later she asked him: Sandy, would you mind if I go settle with Ma Docherty now, and fetch my luggage? I want to move in on you. If you'll have me?

He drew the car into the verge, turned and kissed her. Of course I'll have you darling. My home is yours. He stroked her firm thigh, and she parted her legs to allow his fingers to feather her groin through the fabric.

But now, he said, putting the car into gear, I need to get you to Ma Docherty's as fast as I can.

Whilst she gathered her luggage and settled the bill with Ma Docherty, he went food shopping in the Asian stores on Great Western Road. Then drove her the couple of blocks to his flat.

6.

Once they were in his home, he looked in the drawer of the dresser which stood near the door. Found his spare keys. Turned to kiss her, and pressed the keys in her hand. Red, I changed the lock after Jean left and we had settled the property. Nobody has been given these keys since then. They are yours. My home is yours to share, for as long as you want to.

She folded into his arms and he felt the tears trickle on her face as he kissed her. There was no sexual urgency in him now, just care and love for this remarkable woman who had swept his heart in three days. They exchanged a long soft kiss. Then he pushed her away gently.

So, my dear, why don't we get your stuff into my – our – bedroom, so you can unpack? I'll clear some drawers and wardrobe space for you. He picked up her suitcases and she followed him into the bedroom, watched as he re-organised drawers and hangers.

OK, he said, food will be half-an-hour, if you're hungry now? She nodded mutely and moved to her suitcases on the bed, as he exited for the kitchen.

She was organised in ten minutes and moved into the kitchen where he was chopping vegetables. Kissed the back of his neck as he bent to his task: Honey, can I ask you a favour? she whispered.

He turned smiling: Darling, you don't need to ask me any favours. This is your home now. 

She blushed: Thank you so much for your trust. I guess it might take me a while to adjust to that Sandy. I was going to ask if I might use your computer, but I guess the answer is yes? 

He straightened and turned to kiss her mouth: The computer is yours to share darling. I don't even have a password to get in: just open it up. I'm sure you know how to open your own identity on it? I have no secrets from you, there or anywhere, but I will respect your privacy, I promise.

She busied herself on the computer till he called her to eat twenty minutes later. They sat at a well-used but cared-for Victorian oak dining-table in his huge dining-kitchen, the last of the sunset glowing through the window.

It's just a quick stir-fry, he said. Prawns and oriental veg on brown rice. And hoi sin sauce from a bottle. No culinary extravagances tonight I'm afraid: I need more warning for those!

He poured red wine for them. A Bulgarian merlot, a peasant wine, she thought, wholesome and hearty, not a trace of pretension about it. He raised his glass to her: Slainthe, Red. Welcome to my home. Your new home, however temporary. 

They touched glasses and fell on their food. It was pretty good for something quite impromptu, and she told him so. He blushed and clinked her glass: Thank you Red. I'm just glad you like it.

He'd chopped a fresh fruit salad for desert, and produced a wee jug of fresh cream. She looked at it askance: Sandy, I don't usually allow myself...

You're allowed an indulgence tonight Red, he said. And – with what she could only read as a real dirty smile – I promise I will give you lots of exercise to work it off! 

She grinned acquiescence and he poured cream on the fruit.

They showered together afterwards and as he lathered her hair, she told him: Sandy, this isn't me, you know. I do NOT go off on holiday, fall for my tourguide, and practically invite myself into his home. 

He washed her face with a smile, kissed her soapy mouth. Well, my dear, THAT Red I don't want to know. The one who doesn't do those things. But the one in my arms right now: I love her to bits. Now, I'm getting out to shave the stubble from my cheeks for you. I don't want you to have a scratched face in the morning. 

She watched as he shaved his face carefully. Then, when he was concentrating on his task, she bent and rubbed soap into her asscrack. Soaped her fingers and pressed one into her tight anal opening. Probed and cleansed herself there, as she had never done before. He hadn't noticed her secret act: she'd been watching him intently all the time. 

Then she slipped from the shower as he rinsed his face. He turned now and dried her carefully. Then led her into the bedroom.

They slipped between the sheets and turned to face each other. Before now Red, he whispered, we have had sex together. Incredibly wonderful sex, for me at least. Tonight darling, I need to make love with you. He pulled her to him gently and she slid her thigh between his so her wetness rubbed him softly. Opened her mouth slackly to his so she knew he felt her want. She felt his cock rise hard against her firm belly and they squirmed softly together till their needs became more urgent, their arms tightened mutually, and their movements together became harder. 

Sweetie, she whispered: Take me from behind tonight, please. She turned onto her hands and knees and spread her legs so her ass opened for him. In my pussy, tonight. But I want you to lick into my ass. 

He crouched between her legs and licked softly between her open labia. He had never tasted anything as sweet as her arousal tonight. His tongue cautiously moved up between her asscheeks and her fingers rose to part them for him. He lapped into her sweet anus. His cock was rigid as his tongue probed her then, and he felt her relax, her tight sphincter opening for him. His tongue reached into her forbidden entry, tasting her earthiness there, and she squirmed.

Now, baby, now, she urged. I want you in my wet cunt. Love me darling, please. He moved to enter her, felt a new and overwhelming joy as his member slid between her welcoming labia and into her tight wetness.

She thrust back on him, welcoming him in: Now honey, now. Fuck me with your love darling, she moaned. He groaned as the full length of his cock sank into her depths, his fingers moving now, stroking her dangling breasts. Red I love you darling, he panted, with all my heart and all my body and all my very being, I love you. And he thrust faster, needing to show her his love.

She twisted her head to watch him as he grimaced in his joy with her. Sandy, she panted. I want you to wet your finger and press it into my ass as you love me with your cock. Please, honey. Do it for me.

He hesitated, but she insisted: Now. Finger-fuck my ass.

His excitement was rising hard and he sucked his finger, probed her as his cock slid faster in her cunt, worshipping her there.

Oh baby, push it deeper into me, right up my ass darling. He caught the dirty excitement of her anal scent now, had to plunge his cock deeper into her. 

She tightened hard on him as his finger wiggled in her gaping arsehole and he felt his sperm rise from his balls. She spasmed tight on him and his cock was pumping its load into her now as she groaned hard beneath him.

An age later they sank together slowly onto the mattress, sweat pouring from them both. He eased his finger from her anus and she moaned: Oh honey, that was so complete, she said. You are the most wonderful lover, Sandy. You know I'm falling in love with you honey?

His heart melted as she said that, and he spooned behind her, his cock now limp and sated. Oh Red, I have no idea what we can ever do with it darling, but I am so glad. I'm yours, all yours. He settled in to love her to sleep, but she spoke again:

Sandy, d'you know what I was doing on the computer whilst you were making my dinner, honey?

No Red, I've no idea love. Why?

I googled 'anal sex' Sandy. I wanted to find out more. I know you want me that way. It's maybe time I lost some inhibitions from my uncle's rape. I know you love me baby, and I want to learn to satisfy your every need of me. 

But – she turned and grinned impishly into his eyes – don't get your hopes up too soon! It's not going to happen tonight.

He kissed her gently. No darling, it isn't. I only want what you want, and if that ever happens, it will happen. Meantime my love, we both need some sleep. He kissed her again and switched off the bedside lamp. Spooned into her back so his flaccid cock was crushed against her tight buttocks, and whispered into her neck: Welcome to your new home Red. It's yours for as long as you want it darling.



Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 05



Author's note: 

In this chapter, I have finally succumbed to the many comments (mainly but not all from North America), which I have received about my 'embedded dialogue' writing style. So this one is full of 'quotes' to denote dialogue. Ach - (sighs) - life's full of compromises! I hope it makes it easier for some of you to read.

The story so far. 

Red, a thirty-something Canadian divorcee, has booked a tourguide for the start of her Scottish holiday. He is Sandy, a fifty-something Scot who was recommended to her by a friend. On the first day there is sexual chemistry between them as they explore the area round the city of Glasgow. It is not all sex. There is history, architecture and much else as well as hot sex too!

In this Chapter, the first part of Red's holiday adventure in Scotland draws to a close. It stands alone, but you may find it easier to follow the developing relationship between Red and Sandy, if you read the previous four chapters first. Many thanks to my kind editors for their help throughout this story. Very special thanks to Plainly_Jane for your help with this one. 

If you have enjoyed the tale so far, please let me know. If I get enough appreciative comments I'll follow it up and let you have the story of the rest of their time together. That would pretty much make it a novel.

1.

Red woke to what sounded like heavy rain outside. She tiptoed to peek through the curtains. Saw rainwashed tenements with unremittingly grey clouds above, rain drumming off the grass and paving of the backyards. She shivered, grabbed her gown, and went to brush her teeth, then headed to the kitchen to make tea.

Sandy was stirring when she returned to bed with the tray. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he watched her pour tea and place his mug beside him. Then she slipped from her gown and her beautiful form was in bed beside him again. 

"Hey darling, thanks for my tea. What a lovely way to waken up!" He kissed her nipple, sucked briefly so it grew under his lips. Then he got out of bed and moved to the bathroom to freshen up for her. She was sipping tea when he returned to bed and he took the mug from her hand and nuzzled into her warm excitement. When he bent his head to kiss her mouth, he felt her deep sexual response. 

They cuddled and luxuriated into each other. She felt his arousal; felt too his fingers part her thighs to touch her dampness. "So baby," she whispered, "what have you planned for my day?"

"Well, I'm afraid I haven't planned very good weather," he responded. "Looks like an indoors day, unless you really like getting wet?"

"Sandy, you get me wet all the time. And you know I love that!" Red gasped as his teasing fingers slid into her soaking cunt, stroking up her vagina walls as he moved on top of her and kissed her welcoming mouth softly.

"Right now I don't want to move out of this bed, my sweet," he whispered. "But at some stage we may want to get up, and since it's so awful outside, I suggest we visit the Burrell Collection and Pollock House." 

Her fingers were stroking his hardness. "That sounds good lover," she replied softly, "but it's only seven and I don't imagine they open for a while. Right now I need a loving fuck." He gasped as her fingers tightened on his cock. 

"But," she continued, "this time I need to be in control," and she squirmed round so he was on his back. Straddling her thighs over his face, she bent to take his prick in her mouth. "Lick me out, tourguide. If you make me cum I'll give you a nice surprise." And she licked round his cockhead, sucked him between her lips, as she felt his tongue begin its exquisite journey of exploration.

"I just don't know why this is so," Sandy said, lapping into her as his finger probed her wetness. "But I could bury myself in your taste and scent forever darling." She squealed as his finger brushed her g-spot, and her teeth closed on him involuntarily.

"Sorry baby, but you made me do that!" she whispered.

"I...I quite liked it lover," he gasped. "I want you to do whatever you want to me. Anything...AHHH!" -- as her sharp teeth sank into his rod again -- "anything that gives you pleasure." His lips pursed tight on her clit and her shudder told him she was going to cum on him soon. She wriggled her hips hard on his face.

"Fuck my face darling," Sandy urged Red. "Take me for you. Use me for your pleasure." Her hips were bucking faster on him now and his face was dripping with her delicious cunthoney. She had stopped sucking him as she focused on her own pleasure, and he was glad. At that moment, what he really wanted was for Red to use him as her sextoy. He concentrated on giving her every pleasure he could, trying to read her body's increasingly urgent movements on his face, to anticipate what she needed. 

He moved his head up a fraction, tongue wetting her perineum as his mouth moved into her sweet bumcrack. He felt her tense as his fingers pulled her cheeks wide so his tongue could probe her anus. She shuffled onto her knees a wee bit so his fingers could continue working her cunt, whilst his tongue probed her sphincter. Once his tongue had penetrated her tight ring, he moved one hand to finger and pull on her tits as they dangled invitingly over his stomach. As he squeezed and twisted the nipples, her hips became a frenzy of facefuck for him. His tongue was shaken from her fast-moving arse and he became a receptacle for her lust as he felt her orgasm build. 

Truly this was what he was intended for: just to pleasure this amazing woman. With one final downward thrust of her hips on his face, she groaned deeply as her orgasm swept her being. She shuddered to collapse on him, nerves twitching all over. He ran his fingers lightly down her sweaty back. "I love you from the core of me Red," he said hoarsely.

2.

Presently she stirred on top of him. "I could live like this forever," he whispered, "crushed under you with your sex on my mouth."

She moved round and lay beside him. He kissed her mouth and they settled, bathed in each other's sex and sweat.

"That was so amazing Sandy." She licked into his neck. "No other man in the world has ever allowed me to just let go on him, use him for my pleasure."

"Well, it was high time it happened lover. I rather suspect you've allowed others to use you selfishly. In fact, I know you have, with me. So maybe it was just your turn? I wonder, do you have any idea how wonderful it was for me, knowing I was giving you that pleasure? We have another fortnight Red: plenty of time to explore how we can be good for each other. But now," he glanced at the bedside clock, "it's nearly eight, and we have some art to discover together."

Her fingers wound possessively round his cock and she rose on an elbow to kiss his mouth. "But lover, what about you?"

He smiled. "I'm fine darling, just suffused in joy, being with you. I'll probably need to give you the most selfish fuck you ever had, later. Meantime, let's get showered and grab some breakfast. Then I've things to show you."

* * * 

It was nearly ten as Red drove off the busy suburban road and under a railway bridge. Suddenly they were no longer in a big city, but in eighteenth-century landscaped parkland. A long rhododendron-lined avenue with huge ancient hardwoods towering above, and squirrels scattering off the road before them. A lazy river wound to their left. They passed a tree-studded field with a herd of Highland Cattle grazing. Red squealed at the sight of the young calves and pulled onto the verge, camera in hand. "Ohh Sandy, aren't they just heavenly?"

Then she parked at the gallery, not on the usual sheet of unsightly asphalt, but on some sort of grid which allowed grass to grow through it, so it looked as though the many vehicles were parked on greensward.

She was entranced by the setting, and the care for the visual environment. He pulled her to him as they left the car. "I love you because you care, Red." And grinning wickedly at her, he added, "because you're the best fuck in the world!"

As they passed the shelter-belt of deciduous trees, the Burrell Collection Gallery opened before them. It was a long low modern building, part traditional red sandstone, part aluminium and plate glass, sculpted into the parkland landscape. "Oh my goodness, Sandy," Red exclaimed, "what a lovely building!"

"Isn't it?" he responded. "It's twenty-something years old now, and it still looks as fresh as the day it opened. It was built by the City Council to house a collection which had been bequested to the people of the city many years previously. I have many criticisms of our city council, but this is NOT one of them. I'm glad you like it Red. Wait till you see what's inside."

The huge red sandstone entrance was a bit like going into a cathedral, she thought. As they wandered into the gallery she noticed entry was free.

They went past the giftshop and into an atrium, a sculpture-park on their right. She drew him by the hand as she admired the Rodins and other works in the beautiful setting. They wandered through a medieval archway set in the wall, and were faced with a long diagonal gallery containing, successively, Chinese, Egyptian, and other early Mediterranean sculptures and ceramic artefacts. 

A window-wall allowed the gorgeous parkland outside to almost enter the building. "Sandy, it is just totally gorgeous," she whispered, so awed by the place that she couldn't raise her voice. Sandy led her through medieval tapestries and displays of knights' armour. Red lingered over the tapestries, understanding from her passion for quilting and embroidery, the enormous amount of work their weavers had put into them, many centuries before.

They emerged through the labyrinth, to a gallery on the south side of the building. Rain was still beating down outside, though the sky looked a bit brighter. "How d'you feel about a wee break for tea or coffee?" Sandy asked. "There's still quite a lot you haven't seen here."

"You anticipate my every need, tourguide," she smiled up into his eyes. They descended a long straight concrete staircase to the café area below them. The stairs were narrow, she noticed, and mentioned this to him. "Hah!" he laughed, "trust my observant lover!"

"Waddya mean?" she asked as they made their way to the serving-area.

"I mean, that staircase is the one terrible design-fault in this wonderful building," he explained. "Apart from one wee lift, it's the only way in and out of the café. At busy weekends, the congestion gets terrible, families queueing to get up and down. I suppose every beautiful building has to have one fault," he smiled.

They put their tea and cakes on the tray and Red insisted on paying. Then they moved to a table beside a south-facing plate-glass window overlooking wet parkland.

"So tell me Sandy -- as I know you are dying to -- what's the story behind this amazing collection?"

"Umm. Well, in my view, it's not such a pretty story, despite the wonders of the collection," he replied. "William Burrell was a Glasgow shipowner and trader, end of the nineteenth, beginning of the twentieth century. At the height of the British Empire, when Britain literally dominated the world, commercially and militarily. Unlike many of his contemporary capitalists, he had some taste and culture. He used his immense wealth, and his shipping interests, to assemble here in Glasgow a huge range of cultural artefacts from all over the globe."

Sandy took a sip of his tea and continued. "Today, I'd call it cultural rape. He was obsessed with building his collection, and he didn't mind where and how he got it. I suspect there are quite a few dark stories behind it all."

"On his death, he became philanthropical about it. He left it in trust to the citizens of Glasgow, and many years after he'd done so, the City Council eventually got round to housing it properly, and putting it on display for the public. It is, as you are learning, a most wonderful collection, and several generations of this city's kids have grown up appreciating a bit more about the world beyond these shores, because of it. But my presbyterian and socialist upbringing won't allow me to forget how it got here: a bit of cultural rape by an over-rich and obsessed man."

Red gave Sandy a lightly teasing grin. "Hey, I wish you'd just lighten up sometimes Sandy! What does it matter, now, how it came to be here? What matters to me is, it's here, and I am relishing it!"

"I know that Red. In many ways I'm glad it's here too. It helped my kids expand their horizons when they were growing up. And me, too. It makes it easy, if you grow up knowing it, to understand the world doesn't stop at the shores of our wee country. And that older civilisations, which ignorant racists think are inferior to ours, have a lot to teach us today."

He glanced at his watch and drank the last of his tea in one gulp. "There's more to see here. And we still have Pollock House to look at!"

* * *

They moved up the narrow flight of stairs and he showed her into elaborate reconstructions of the rooms of medieval mansions, set carefully into the design of the gallery. Furniture hundreds of years old, fireplaces, doorways, windows, all carefully dismantled, he explained, and moved hundreds of miles to be reconstructed many years later inside this fabulous building.

Red was beginning to understand the wealth, and the cultural obsession, that had enabled this to be done. 

Finally they moved up another flight of stairs to the art collection. Red was so overawed by the experience of the place, she could no longer begin to take everything in. But in the softly-lit room containing the Degas collection she lingered, peering at the delicate pastels of dancers, shivering at the blatant sexuality the artist had captured. She realised that in Degas' time, this must have been truly revolutionary art, this revelation of, celebration of, womens' sexuality.

"I see Degas turns you on darling," Sandy murmured, his arm round her waist. She turned to him, kissed his mouth: "Yes he does lover. He must have been quite a man, to capture that, at that time in history. And to dare show it!"

They were alone in the dimly-lit gallery and Sandy pulled her roughly to him. "I need to fuck you so hard now," he growled, his hand sliding under her jeans, fingers probing her damp warmth.

"Sandy, you can't, not here!" She protested, but feebly. She was excited as well, and welcomed his fingers probing her depths.

He drew back, panting. "I know lover. I just wanted you to be aware how much I need you."

3.

Red lingered in the shop before they left, purchasing a few cards for her children and for her friends back home. The rain had stopped by the time they left the gallery. "It's only a bit over half-a-mile to Pollock House Red, and the weather's lifting. Want to walk through the park?" Sandy asked. 

She nodded consent and he guided her along woodland paths, alive with the sound of birds, till they emerged onto a wide grass avenue lined with stately old trees. At the foot of the avenue was a driveway leading to the back of a mansion. He'd taught her enough by now that she knew it was Georgian, late eighteenth or early nineteenth-century. They wandered down the avenue holding hands lightly, breathing wet rainscent from the trees and flowers. He showed his card at the entrance to the house and they entered, a huge staircase before them, down in the middle, up at the two sides. 

He turned her to him and kissed her lightly. "Down is lunch," he said, "up is the house. Which way first, lover?"

She pulled him to the central staircase, downwards. "This girl's getting hungry, tourguide," she said. "Let's get some lunch!"

They wandered down a long subterranean servants' passageway, and there at the end was the restaurant. It had obviously been the kitchen of the old house, and copper implements hung on the walls above kitchen-ranges. It reminded her a bit of the kitchen in Culzean Castle and, as a waiter found them a table, she said so. "It's very similar Red," he agreed, "around the same period too. Now," as the waiter handed them menus, "what do you want for lunch, lover?"

They ordered their meals and the waiter left their table. Red glanced round before slipping her hand up his kilt and fondling his penis. "Fuck baby," he gasped, as he straightened to her touch. "Don't do that, or I'll bend you over the table and fuck you right here, in public."

She smiled, her hands slipping down his thighs to innocently tickle his knees. "You know that's just what I need baby," she whispered, leaning over the table to kiss him. "After I've had my lunch!"

* * *

They wandered through the gorgeous old house after they'd eaten, moving through a succession of rooms which had been the home of a rich family until sixty years previously. The library was particularly stunning for Red, but as they explored further she couldn't make her mind up which room she liked most. Sandy pulled her to a halt before a portrait of Oliver Cromwell.

"He was the leader of Britain's first, and sadly brief, Republic," he told her. "Would a King or Queen ever have allowed a court painter to show a wart on their nose? Cromwell did! I love the guy, just for that one fact. But I know he was a bastard too, just in case you think my political prejudices get in the way of reality."

She smiled at him and pulled his face down for a kiss. "I'm just beginning to understand how you work Sandy. It's part of why I'm growing to love you honey. Strange as you certainly are, in my ignorant Canadian eyes!" She swallowed his tongue forcefully, then slid away from him as she heard others enter the room. She looked at her watch. "It's nearly five honey. I think they're going to close on us soon?"

4.

It was a sultry evening as they left the house, swallows and swifts swooping for insects above as they moved through formal gardens to the river-bank. But the rain held off, and Red pulled Sandy up the path by the river towards the signposted stable-block. As they entered the archway, a couple of huge Clydesdales were being urged into their stables for the night. She left him and ran to chat excitedly with their grooms, a young woman and man in their twenties. 

Sandy hung back and rolled a cigarette. He lit it and inhaled, his eyes following what he thought were swifts darting above him. As they flittered under the eaves, he realised they were house-martins, not swifts. Ach, he was getting old! 

Red had told him she loved horses, and he was happy to wait as she moved about the beasts, getting their grooms to pose as she found the right angles for photographs.

"Hey Sandy," she shouted, "get over here! Sharon says you can sit on this beauty, and I wanna pic of you!"

He stubbed his cigarette and folded the butt in his sporran, then moved over the courtyard towards her. "You think I'm going to get on THAT beast, just for you to get a photo?"

"Yes honey, you certainly are!" Her excited face closed with his doubtful one and she kissed him. "This is Sharon and Alex. And these beauties are Princess and Monarch. Sharon says Princess likes men in kilts, and she'll be very quiet if you sit on her a moment. Um, Princess that is, not Sharon."

The young lassie had the grace to blush at Red's crudity. She was a sparkling and comely wee blonde, bulging out in all the right places, and Sandy allowed himself a momentary fantasy with her before she said, "There's a mounting-stone over here Sandy, and for some reason Princess DOES like guys in kilts. So come, mount her for Red." She burst into giggles as she realised what she'd said, but guided the towering mare to the mounting-stone. 

He used to knew horses well enough, and moved to Princess's face to stroke her nose and chat to her. His fingers searched in his sporran for the end of a tube of polomints and he laid one on the flat of his hand, proffered it to her. Princess looked in his eyes and bowed her nose, graciously accepting his offering. 




Red's Scottish Trip Ch. 05



"Hey," Sharon cried, "she loves you now Sandy." He felt the great mare's tongue on his palm and knew Sharon was right. He moved round Princess's face and stood on the mounting-stone. Gave her flank a reassuringly pat, and in a small limber move, was astride her saddle-less back. He leaned forward to fondle her ears, which had gone a bit rigid in alarm, and as he whispered to her, he felt the mare gradually calm under him.

Sharon led Princess slowly round the courtyard as Red moved, camera clicking. Then the mare was by the stone again and Sandy slipped from her. It was the first time he'd been on a horse in years, and he was glad and surprised that it had all come back to him. He kissed Sharon's cheek lightly as he moved round Princess. "Thank you so much, lassie. She is indeed a Princess." His fingers accidentally feathered her bum through her jodhpurs. "As I suspect, are you!" 

Red pulled him to herself possessively. "That's quite enough of that, lover! I think it's time I got you home, you are obviously needing something. From ME, Sandy."

He collected himself and nodded to his lover. "You're right darling. I need to fuck you into tomorrow." Fortunately, Sharon didn't appear to catch this.

Red hugged Sharon and Alex, and they both patted the stately working horses. The bats were coming out over the sluggish river as they began the walk back to the car through the muggy evening. 

On the drive home, Red noticed a pharmacy and pulled the car over. "I'll be back in just a sec, lover," she said, dropping a quick kiss on his lips. "I've got to pick up a few girlie things!"

In a few minutes Red returned to the car. "Sandy, you have two choices for dinner. I can rustle something up for us, or we eat out. Whaddya prefer, honey?" He turned to gaze at her, lust in his eyes.

"Whatever's quickest darling. I really need you. Soon."

"OK, we grab a meal out," she said, feeling her need for him rise strongly, tingling through her body. "Any preferences?"

"Red, it's your holiday, please choose whatever you want."

"That's easy then," she smiled. "These islands are supposed to be famous for fish and chips. I haven't had any yet. Where do we get some?"

* * *

It was ten minutes' drive home from Harry Marsden's and his fingers were all over her thighs as she drove. It was all he could do to stop kissing her at traffic lights. Eventually they were back at his home. They were both in a lustful daze as they hugged each other up the stairs to his front door. She settled on her knees as he fumbled with the keys and her mouth sought his hard prick under the kilt. His key entered the lock as her lips enveloped him and she sucked hard as the door swung open.

"Not here darling," he gasped. "I don't want to cum in your mouth tonight, please." She slowly released him and stood, and they entered the flat together. 

"Where do you want to cum in me baby?" Her voice was throaty with desire. "Tell me your deepest fantasy." She kissed him hard, wantonly, as the door slammed shut behind them.

5.

He was weak with lust as he pulled her to him. "I just want us to go to bed, and take whatever pleasure we can from each other, Red. Please, can we do that now?" His fingers were teasing her groin through her tight jeans. He drew her to the bedroom and they undressed urgently. She needed him as much as he needed her, but as she had promised that morning, she intended to give him a special surprise. And she was quivering in excitement at the very dirty thought. She slipped out of his arms, promising to hurry, and went to use the bathroom. 

He was naked in bed when she returned to the room, his eyes shut and a bulge on the bedclothes at his groin. She fiddled in her purse and placed a small bottle on the bedside table before sliding into bed beside him. Burying herself under the blankets, she took his throbbing erection deep in her throat briefly. Then she surfaced slowly, licking his skin right up his hard body till her lips were on his. "I'm yours honey," she whispered. "Everything about me is yours. I want you to take me and use me for your pleasure."

His eyes focussed on hers, a trace of concern there behind his lust. "Darling, do you mean you want me to take your arse? I thought you said..."

"I said this morning I was going to give you a surprise, goof! That means I want you to take me, whatever way you want. I want to know how it feels to have your hot cock in my ass. Just be gentle, please. At least, to begin with?" And she smiled in his uncertain eyes as she drew his hand to her asscrack. 

"Now lover, please show me what I've been missing," she coaxed him. Her warm, urgent mouth moved against his as his finger pressed into her arse. He knew she meant it.

"Darling, I love you so much," he whispered, his arms winding round her so he felt her taut breasts pressing his chest. "I need to fuck you into tomorrow, but I do NOT want to do anything you might regret." His head bowed so he could suck her prodding erect nipples, and he felt her squirm as his teeth gentled them. He arched over her and licked down her belly, savouring her every curve and scent. She parted her legs under him and his mouth moved down to savour her delectable sex.

She gasped as his tongue flicked over her clit. "My lover," she moaned, "with you, I will regret nothing. I'm yours. Take me darling, and let me feel your spunk in my hot ass, please?"

He focussed on giving her pleasure now. If she was giving him her arse, he wanted her properly relaxed and fully pleasured first. He thrust pillows under her bum to raise her cunt to the best angle for him, and his tongue and lips explored every corner of her gaping sex as his hands rose to pull and gently twist her nipples. She was beginning to move under him, her breathing getting ragged. 

"Darling," he whispered into her wetness. "I love you forever. And I will be as careful as I can. Thank you for giving me so much Red." And his tongue and lips intensified their worship of her cunt, so her hips were heaving and writhing as her moans encouraged his love. Suddenly she screamed and her body twisted and convulsed under him. His face was soaking with her sweet release.

He moved up to kiss her mouth. Hung over her face and watched as she trembled back to normality, then lowered his mouth to hers. "My sweetness," he whispered as their lips touched.

Her eyelids parted and she gazed at him, a look he hadn't seen before. Then the mischief twinkled into her irises and she said firmly. "Thank you. Now, take my ass, make it your own. Fuck my ass." Pointing with one hand, she reminded him, "The lube is on the cabinet."

He was electrified by her words. "How d'you want me Red?" he growled. "If I take you on your back, we can see each other as I fuck you. If you turn over it's anonymous, just physical sensation."

"Uh, I wanna see you, as I feel you plunder me sexman. No anonymity here. I want you in me, not a cock."

They kissed and he told her, "I want you to apply the lube lover. To both of us." He moved to bring a small mirror from his dressing-table. "Let's see if we can get this so you can watch as you work the stuff into yourself." He worked the pillows so she was half sitting, then raised her legs round her ears with one hand, as the other held the mirror. "Now darling," he whispered, "can you see your own cunt and arse properly?"

She looked down intently and for the first time in her life, she was gazing at her own cunt and ass. She looked up at him. "They are yours darling. They are mine and I've never looked at them before, but now they are all yours Sandy." He bent to lick her breast.

"Thank you lover," he whispered. "As you know that every part of me is yours." He handed her the bottle of lube, and she opened it, a bit uncertain. 

"I've never had occasion to use this stuff before," she giggled, feeling self-conscious. She glooped some onto her fingers and, watching the mirror intently, rubbed it into her asscrack. Sandy held her legs wider so she could see into the spreading crack, see the pucker of her own asshole for the first time. She slabbered the cold stuff well into the crack, then tentatively loaded a forefinger and probed her own anus. 

It was slithery and cold, but definitely not unpleasant. She held out her hand and Sandy dripped more on her fingers. "Get it deep inside you lover." He was watching intently now as she lubed her asshole deep. "Christ, you are so beautiful, darling," he whispered.

Then he moved to present her with his dripping throbbing cock. "All over your toy now lover," he said. 

She poured a handful of the stuff and clutched him lovingly, stroking the gloop all over his prick.

"Now darling, you need to open yourself up for me," he said. "More lube on your hand. Probe your arse with two, then three fingers." He adjusted the mirror so she could see what she was doing, and she watched her anus stretch as her fingers entered herself. It was different, a bit uncomfortable, but not painful, and she was strangely aroused as she watched her fingers disappear into her own ass. 

"Masturbate your arsehole darling, let me see you do that, please?"

She obeyed his instruction and winced at the newness of the sensations. Then he gently pulled her fingers from herself and removed the mirror. Kissed her deeply and rearranged the pillows under her arse. Adjusted himself between her legs, and she felt his cockhead nudge her asshole. 

He looked deep in her eyes as he pressed into her gently. "Are you absolutely sure you want me in you darling?" he whispered. She nodded. "More sure than I have been about anything Sandy."

He thrust harder and felt her sphincter close round his cockhead. "I need to just fuck you now," he gasped.

They were still looking into each others' eyes as she felt the new discomfort of his penetration. "Use me Sandy. Fuck me. I'm your whore tonight."

His careful mental restraints fell away as he heard her and he thrust hard into her delicious tightness. "OHHH fuck baby, I need you," he moaned, and he withdrew and thrust again. She felt an edge of pain through her joy at pleasuring him. "Play with your cunt while I fuck you darling," he growled, and he watched as her fingers tickled her bud. She was beginning to enjoy the dirty taboo of what they were doing and as his cock plundered her deeper she sensed the tremors which heralded her orgasm.

"You dirty whore," he gasped, "your arse is even better than your delicious cunt." And now he was bucking and fucking her hard, all concern for her welfare lost in his own desperate search for release in her bowels. It was far too intense to last, and it didn't. She was clenching him too tight now as she played with her clit, squirming suddenly under him so he knew she was getting off too. He kissed her roughly. "Need to spunk into you soon darling," and he thrust harder and faster. 

She felt his body spasm suddenly, his hips lifting before a final thrust into her. And as her own small orgasm washed her, she felt the surge of his spunk flooding into her. He jerked and twitched for a few moments as his sweat-drenched body settled onto hers. Her legs fell to the bed and she hugged him tight. "Thank you darling," she whispered. He grunted and twitched, kissing her mouth. 

"You are truly my goddess Red. Thank you for bringing me a joy I have never felt before."

And, being a man, he promptly fell asleep. 

6.

He recovered minutes later. "Sorry lover," he apologized, "the intensity of what just happened wiped me out. I think I fainted."

She giggled as he squirmed, and his cock finally slipped from her. "I think you did darling," she smiled. "And d'ya know what?"

He peered at her, still coming round. Shook his head. "What lover?"

"You can fuck my ass anytime you ever want honey. It's yours forever. But meantime we need to get some sleep. You have your new clients to meet at the airport in the morning. And I need to be on an early train to Edinburgh."