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David's Scottish Cousins Ch. 01

By: Thorilla



I remember it as if it was yesterday but in fact it was 1958 and I had just turned eighteen. I had been sent up to the Scottish highlands, by my parents, to stay with my aunt Annie and her identical twin daughters Megan and Morag. My cousins, who were also eighteen, met me from the train at Glen Gussie station. As the steam cleared from the platform I made out two shapes approaching. Both wore identical duffel coats over knee-length tartan skirts and black stockings.

My first impression was that they seemed so tall and slim compared with me. I had always been quite short and skinny for my age and had hardly grown since I last saw them last about five years earlier. I think it must have been something in the Scottish water which produced such gorgeous looking curvaceous girls. " Hello, you must be Davy," said the less outward-going, Megan. She appeared to be six inches taller than me, with dark brown hair, and twice as broad across her bottom. Morag was slightly shorter at five foot ten inches. I was bundled onto a taxi and taken to the remote village called Craigcarron.

My aunt Annie, was the Craigcarron postmistress and lived in a very small cottage beside the post office. She was taller than me too and had a very ample bust. When I arrived she said to me " Davy you must be starving after your long journey, we'll get some potatoes, neeps and lamb stew ready and you can tell us all about London." 

After about an hour or two of chatting and reminiscing over our meal I was taken to my room which was hardly bigger than an alcove on the landing. My cousins had the largest bedroom and slept together in a big double bed. My aunt had the smaller bedroom which was adjacent to the bathroom. The rest of the cottage consisted of a very small living room, kitchen and a 'drying room' where the laundry was done. 

The living room contained a small 'inglenook fireplace' under low dark beams, a vintage radio from the 1940s and a small two-seater sofa, for the girls, and a high-backed armchair for my aunt. Everything was very cramped but cosy. My first evening with them was spent listening to the radio ( television was not available in those days). I sat on the sofa with Morag on my left and Megan on my right. I felt very constricted, because their bottoms were so wide, and eventually decided to sit on the rug and lean back against the sofa between the two girls. 

The next few days followed a similar pattern. I'd go out walking during the day with Megan and Morag and visit the lochs and castle ruins, climb up the rocky crags and plant stones on the cairns. Morag would show me where the grouse were reared and Megan led me through the pine forests and heather moorlands. Life seemed very slow and relaxed although the weather was often cool, wet and windy. 

In the evenings, after our meal, we'd discuss 'life and it's meanings' and talk about the village and it's inhabitants. There were, apparently, very few young people close by and my cousins said they knew no boys of their age as they had all left the village for the city. It turned out that neither had ever had a boyfriend or had even been kissed despite being both unbelievably attractive and gorgeous.

They also told me that my aunt always made them wear either skirts or dresses as she did not believe that 'young women should ever wear trousers'. This meant that my cousins were obliged to wear at least one or two petticoats beneath their skirts, sometimes three in the evenings, and thick denier nylon stockings in order to keep warm. 

One night, after my third or fourth day in the cottage, my aunt announced that she had to go to Inverness, to look after a sick friend. She took a few things in a suitcase and told us that she would not be back for at least two weeks. 

That evening I sat on the floor, as usual, between the two girls leaning back against the sofa seat. I felt particularly small, skinny and vulnerable and admired both Morag's and Megan's black stocking-clad legs to either side and next to me.

I noticed that Morag's lacy petticoat hem was slightly revealed under her very full green pleated tartan skirt. As we sat there listening to the radio in front of the fire I decided to lean back further and slid down until my head was level with both hems of my cousins' skirts. Megan crossed and then uncrossed her legs which resulted in her resting her foot lightly against my chest. At the same time I noticed that her flounced stiff lace petticoat hem was displayed too. Morag also seemed to move her legs slightly apart until her knee brushed against my cheek. I could feel the scratchiness of her black stocking as her leg pushed further against me.

We listened to 'Scottish dance music' on the radio. Morag lifted her leg for a moment then replaced it so that it lay further against my face with her petticoat hem touching my hair and forehead. I slowly slid down until my head was below skirt level and I could see up and under her white nylon slip. Megan. In the meantime uncrossed her legs and let her foot wander onto my lap. 

The atmosphere was electric and I began to feel very hot and excited. 

Morag lifted both her legs off the sofa, and pulled up her skirt and petticoats and adjusted her stockings. She then primly replaced her petticoat and smoothed down her skirt and I pretended not to take notice but was startled when she, in turn, placed one foot firmly on my lap with about six inches of exposed petticoat lace against my face. I found myself sliding further down to floor level with my feet almost in the fireplace staring up at four smooth stockinged, and petticoated, legs above me. 

Morag said in a surprised voice "Wee Davy, if you don't get up we may accidentally step on you down there" I replied that I didn't mind and was quite comfortable lying on my back staring up at them both. Megan shifted herself forward over me so that her legs were either side of my face and the back of her pleated skirt and two petticoats draped down over the front of the sofa. The front of her skirt was spread over her petticoats which in turn was spread across her knees and as I looked up I could see various tiers and multi-layered lace edgings as well as the tops of her stockings, suspenders and some very loose delicately lacy French-knickers which their mother insisted that they both wear because they were less sweaty than tight panties and more hygenic.

Megan sat above me for quite a long time until Morag got up and decided to make some tea. I lay there wondering what to do next and was enthralled at being under Megan's full pleated skirt admiring her underthings from inside her tartan kilt. I touched her thighs slightly but this resulted in a sudden reflex reaction and Megan was off me in an instant and standing at the farthest side of the room.

Morag returned with the tea and sat once again on the sofa. She told Megan that she should 'not be silly' and to allow Davy to touch her if he wanted to, as 'he was a guest' as well as being a close family cousin and that they had to respect their guest's wishes. 

Megan returned to her previous position and made sure her wide pleated tartan skirt and flared white underskirts were spread above my face as I lay on the floor between her feet. I breathed in the feminine odours from the soft skin above her stockings as well as the delicate Lilac perfume which both girls used. 

Again I admired the underside of Megan's thighs particularly where her frilly elasticated suspender clips were attached to her black stockings. I looked at every detail inches from my face, at the stitching and ruching, and soft nylon underskirt which hung down slightly but did not touch, just looked. The black stocking seams defined the outline of the back of her legs and I could almost lick her stocking tops with my tongue but didn't. Megan's inner petticoat had a lace hem which was quite deep and was made up of rose petals supported by paisley swirls in stiff white nylon. The outer petticoat was similar but was a much coarser and open textured net which was very full and was edged in ribbon and leaderline. It was this petticoat which provided the fullness to Megan's pleated full circle plaid skirt and gave it the bouffant look as she walked about the cottage at night. 

I heard the clinking of teacups and saucers above me. " Would you like a cup of tea wee Davy? " asked Morag. I said that that would be very nice so I slid out from between Megan's feet and sat on Aunt Annie's chair facing the twins. After our tea Morag switched the radio off and asked me if I was happy being in Craigcarron and whether I found it too boring being with my cousins compared with London. I said that I enjoyed being in Scotland with my relatives and looked forward to many more days spent on the moors and mountains.

Megan then asked me whether I wanted to be under her skirt again. Morag suddenly responded that it was 'her turn' and grabbed a cushion from the chair and positioned it on the rug in front of the fire and ordered me to lie on it face up, which I did.

She then stood over me facing my head wearing her full tartan pleated skirt, similar to Megan's but a pale blue and yellow colour. All I could see were the many layers of white net petticoat over another smooth layer of ivory silky nylon lace-edged petticoat as her large rounded bottom encased in wide lacy edged French knickers descended upon my face. Carefully Morag spread her thighs so I was given a wonderful view of stocking tops, thighs and suspender belt. Everything went dark as I was engulfed under her wide gathered full circle kilt and rustling underthings.

(continued in part two}

David's Scottish Cousins Ch. 02



Morag eased her bottom over my nose and gently rubbed herself backwards and forwards against my tongue which I had extended. Her French-knickers were rather damp, sticky and 'aromatic'. Morag seemed a bit more worldly-wise than either her sister or I and she was clearly intent on pleasuring herself on my face. 

Her petticoats swished and froufroued over me as she rocked to and fro. Her outer net petticoat made a crackling sound as the multi-layered flounces brushed over her inner petticoat which in turn slid over my cheeks, nose and hair. Her rhythm gradually increased and got stronger. Her pleated skirt appeared to lift at times and I saw the glow from the fireplace but mostly I was in darkness under her plaid kilt and was overwhelmed by a very strong female odour. My tongue and nose were beginning to feel quite sore as Morag slid her buttocks faster and faster across my face over and over and over again . My mouth, tongue, cheeks and chin were covered in saliva and sticky stuff. Eventually after several final vigorous thrusts she lifted her legs off my face and disappeared upstairs to the bathroom to freshen up.

Meanwhile Megan helped me dry my face with her handkerchief and asked me whether I could do the same thing to her. I said that I would be willing to try. She asked me whether she should sit over my face like her sister. I said she should face me and put her stockinged feet on either side of my face then squat down so her bottom was over my face and I would do the rest. She stepped over me, while I lay on the carpet looking up. I couldn't quite believe how bouffant her pleated tartan skirt was over her many petticoats.

Her skirt was wider than Morag's and I could not see her upper torso from my position under her. Her skirts seemed to 'fill the room' and I looked up to see her thighs above her black stockings in the firelight framed by layer upon layer upon layer of stiff net petticoat with an inner lining of flared ivory shiny silky petticoat with a very deep lace trim. "Shall I squat down over your face now" she asked and I replied that she should.

Megan was rather shy and I lifted my face up off the cushion, closed my eyes and stuck my tongue out so that she would not feel too embarrassed. She lowered herself slowly while lifting up her pleated skirt so that she, and I, were able to direct where my tongue and nose should go. Her voluminous petticoats slid over my face, my upper body and rested on the carpet all around me creating a tent as eventually she positioned the loose lacy leg of her French-knickers over my tongue. Everything, went dark as layer upon layer of petticoat and plaid skirt blocked out the light from the fire and meagre lamp-light. The odour from between her legs was heavenly. 

I started licking frantically, up and down and backwards and forwards, until Megan responded by groaning and gyrating as she approached her climax. She asked me several times if I was OK? and I replied that apart from the unusual stiffness and dampness in my trousers I was fine. Eventually Megan stepped off me and after another gorgeous view of her large bottom, frilly French-knickers and petticoats beneath her skirt she joined he sister to freshen up. 

The next two days were taken with walks and visits to the local Falconry Centre at Plockhorn. I went walking one morning with my camera and arrived back at the cottage just after 2 o'clock. Megan said that they had a visitor and as I entered there was a very tall slim young woman at least eight inches taller than me standing in the living room.

She almost had to lower her head in order to stand upright next to the beamed ceiling. We were introduced and shook hands and was told that she was Pamela, the doctor's daughter. She was amazingly attractive with very long blonde hair and full red lips. Morag said that she was a couple of years older than her which made her twenty. I remarked on the fact that all the girls in the village seemed so tall and slim and thought it must be something to do with the diet. Pamela laughed and said that her bottom was far too big and she needed to lose some weight. We all sat down while Morag made some tea. Pamela took off her tweed coat to reveal a very long pleated tartan skirt which stopped short just above her ankles. She sat on Aunt Annie's chair and I could not help noticing as she crossed her legs that some very lacy white petticoat came into view with a lace-trimmed back slit, and then disappeared under her long full kilt. 

Morag had arranged a chair cushion on the floor in front of the fire. Pamela looked at it and then looked at me and then I realised that I had to perform my 'oral-administrations' to the doctor's daughter in front of my two cousins.

Pamela took off her shoes and I noticed she was wearing very fine denier dark brown seamed stockings. She stood next to the fire warming herself. Megan winked at her than beckoned me to lie down on the cushion with my face facing upwards. Pamela then asked me whether I was ready and I said that I was, although nobody had mentioned until then that I was about to 'pleasure' one of Morag's friends. 

I lay with my head on the cushion and loosened my trousers slightly. Pamela then asked me what she should do. I could not believe that this beautiful vision of womanhood had not the first idea about being pleasured. 

Morag said that she should hitch her skirt up and place her feet on either side of my face looking down on me. Pamela stood over me appearing like a tall goddess in the firelight. Her feet and ankles pushed firmly against my cheeks as she lowered herself onto me with her skirt up and knees splayed out. She pulled up her green and black 'Burns Night' long tartan pleated skirt which revealed a very long smooth white petticoat with a very deep lace edging which she pulled up above her knees. She squatted over my face and I could smell her 'Eau-de-Cologne' perfume which she had sprayed on her exposed thighs, stocking tops, suspender belt and white panties. Pamela's panties had a distinct damp patch and clearly she was worked up before arriving at our cottage. 

I pushed my tongue out as Pamela's panties came to rest on my mouth. She pushed her silky nylon petticoat over my face and everything became dark as she pulled her skirt hem down so that it hid my face from view. I realised that she was embarrassed and really did not wish to see me at work beneath her skirt but was quite happy with my tonguings and nosings against her panties. I moved my tongue gentle probing the silky shiny material which covered her pubic area. I ran my lips over the lace edging and nibbled at her thighs next to her suspenders. I felt her quiver at each touch and she gasped gently. I was aware of Morag or Megan preparing tea and heard Pamela say she'd like one sugar.

After several minutes Pamela juddered and my face became covered in her juices. Her white panties were completely wet and I licked her beneath her thighs, She remained squatting over my face and she asked Megan to help her get up as it was difficult with her long skirt and underthings and me in the way.

"Close your eyes now wee Davy...there'll be no peeping when I get up" said Pamela still embarrassed at what had happened. I lay there with my eyes closed although I did peep and saw Pamela's magnificent derriere as she stood over me, straddling my face wiping away the moisture from between her legs with a handkerchief. Morag returned with the tea and a spair pair of French-knickers for our lady guest. Pamela lowered her soiled panties which she tossed onto the floor next to me, giving me a delightful view of soft hair. She then pulled up the clean knickers, stepped off me, adjusted a suspender clip which had come loose, pushed her petticoat down, swivelling the waist band so the slit was central at the back then let her skirt drop and smoothed it down, 

"You can open your eyes again down there wee Davy" she said in a soft Highland accent. The tea and biscuits arrived and we all sat around and discussed the weather.



David's Scottish Cousins Ch. 03



It was 1958, I was 18 years old and I had been staying with my cousins Megan and Morag in their cottage at Cairncarron over the summer. My Aunt had left us alone for a couple of weeks to look after a sick friend.

On Tuesday Morag asked me to deliver a letter to Colonel McAllister's widow who lived in a big Edwardian house on the edge of the village. I had to arrive there promptly at 2pm. I reached her home and rang the door bell. From inside I heard the clatter of high heeled shoes crossing a wooden floor and as the door opened I was greeted by a smart, tall lady, probably in her early forties, who was clearly dressed as if she were expecting guests.

She spoke with an air of superiority and authority in a loud Edinburgh accent. "Is it Davy?" she said and I told her it was, and that Morag Shaw had sent me over with a letter. She opened it, read it quickly, smiled to herself, and placed it on the hall table. "Do come in," she said "and sit you down here by the door". 

She looked me up and down noticing that I was quite short and skinny for an eighteen year old and at least four inches shorter than she was, despite her high heels.

"Mmmm" she said, and stroked her chin.

I noticed that both her hair and makeup were immaculate and she wore an expensive fragrance. I felt aware that I appeared disheveled, untidy and that my clothes were specked with mud from my walk from the cottage. 

She asked me if I'd like some tea, then turned smartly on her patent leather court shoes and clattered off towards the kitchen. She had quite a large curvaceous bottom above exceptionally long shapely legs. She wore a black woolen sweater over an expensive green and navy tartan pleated full skirt which ended just below the knee. I wondered what was in Morag's letter so grabbed it and read its contents before putting it back hurriedly. She had written the following.

"Dear Mrs. McAllister. This is Davy, my cousin. As I mentioned recently, he is skilled with his tongue and doesn't mind being between a lady's legs or under her skirts. He may need a bit of encouragement as he is quite shy for an eighteen year old boy but he is clearly an expert in providing oral pleasures for ladies as my sister and I have both found out. I hope you all find him satisfying. Kind regards, Morag Shaw."

When she returned with the tea Mrs. McAllister told me that I could call her Mary and smiled condescendingly. She sat opposite me on another old chair in the large hallway. She slowly crossed her exceptionally long legs and I saw something delicately edged with lace peeping out from under the hem below her knee which then disappeared as she smoothed her pleats down again. She noticed that I was looking at her and glanced at me and at a small bulge in my trousers. The atmosphere was electric. 

She enquired whether I was enjoying my stay in Craigcarron and I smiled and said that I enjoyed the peace and quiet. "It can be too peaceful," she remarked, particularly after her husband had died, almost ten years previously. She looked at my trouser bulge again. She complained that there were few gentlemen in the village of her age and she had to make do with the company of other single ladies.

She smoothed down her skirt picking off a speck of fluff. I heard the ticking of a large clock on the mantel shelf and I was aware of the sound of laughter and ladies voices coming from somewhere in the house but it may have been a radio.

"Davy, can I ask you to do something for me?" My heart skipped a beat as I wondered how she was going to bring up the 'delicate matter' mentioned in Morag's letter. "Yes," I said going red in the face. "Would you mind looking at my chair leg? It appears a bit loose whenever I sit on it." She said smiling at me.

The hallway chair did look a bit wobbly and I got down on my hands and knees to take a closer look as Mrs. McAllister slid her knees to one side. I moved forward so my head was almost touching her seat cushion, and at the same time felt the bracing on the chair's underside. She got up and leaned over me to inspect what I was doing. Standing against my shoulder her skirt rubbed against my face. I moved to one side, brushing against her tartan pleats so I could see under her chair more clearly.

"It may need a steel brace to strengthen it"

"Really?" she said smiling down at me, this time leaning heavily against my shoulder and moving her lower leg firmly against my upper arm. She stared intently at my mouth and nose, and also my trouser bulge and I could tell she had other things on her mind. She leered at me wickedly.

"Really Davy, well I never," she said with an almost predatory expression. Her hand slowly rubbed her knee under her skirt and exposed a very deep delicately crisp white lacy petticoat hem which vanished instantly as she dropped her skirt down again. Her hem was tantalizingly close to me and my mind raced as I wondered what were the rest of her underthings like, hidden under all those delicious pleats? My heart was thumping with excitement as I visualized running my fingers up her legs under her skirt. 

She turned and positioned herself in front of me so that my head was pushed firmly against her plaid-clad knees. She nudged my head downwards with her left knee so I was left staring at the hall floor between her feet. Her long legs moved apart slightly.   I felt her plaid skirt moving sensually over an underskirt which in turn slid against her stockings making a froufrou sound as she eased herself against my head.

"Davy, put your head up my skirt if you'd like to... I'd like you to very much,"

In a state of unbelievable excitement I lowered my head to her feet and kissed her shoes, becoming aware of strong female aromas above me. Clearly Mrs. McAllister was pleased to having an eighteen year old boy at her feet. I became conscious of a gradual stiffness in my penis as it extended fully. My head pushed upwards between her stockinged ankles running my cheeks against the exquisite smoothness of her fine nylon hosiery. I slowed down my progress under her skirt, savouring every second of being between those very long and beautiful legs. The heat from her skin, and from beneath her skirt, was intense. I was intoxicated at being under a well groomed woman's skirt. The hem of her pleats began to caress the nape of my neck as her shoes and slim ankles slid away below me. She squeezed, and then released, my face playfully with her legs as I continued my ascent. My head, under the zigzag concertina shapes of the skirt pleats, pushed further upwards. Her nyloned knees made swishing sounds as they arrested my progress.

"Davy, try and push your head under my underslip now" My penis became rock hard and was straining inside my trousers. 

I saw, and then lifted, her loosely gathered white lacy petticoat hem using my head. I nuzzled my way upwards, feeling the starchy scratchiness of the deep lace edging passing over my head and hair as I ducked under. It was warm between the layers of white slippery nylon. My hostess appeared satisfied and happy with the situation, having her young guest under her skirt and also under her control.

Looking upwards, in the confined space, there was a truly erotic sight. Her stockings were help up by clips attached to silky white nylon suspenders delicately ornamented with fine lace. The suspenders contrasted starkly with the darker band of reinforced nylon stocking encircling both thighs. They brushed my face as I nibbled the soft exposed skin just below her knickers. Her odour was overpowering as I lapped at her upper thighs. The legs of her delicate silky white French-knickers had a wide lace edging which obscured the flesh above her stockings. The gusset was very loose and I could see soft hair peeping out as I moved my tongue under the stiff frilly hems between her legs. 

"Davy, we must stop now so that we can save your energies for the other ladies."

"What other ladies Mary?" I said, feeling both cheated and as if I, and Mrs. McAllister, had suddenly become partners in crime.

"The one's who arrived earlier today and are waiting for you in the east wing." I gasped and asked whether we just couldn't finish our activities in the hall and then I could leave. Mrs. McAllister said that if I agreed to do what she said she would have a special treat for me later. I got out from under her skirt, stood up and said I would do whatever she or the ladies asked. She hugged me, smiled, and then put her arms around me leading me along a passageway across a lounge towards a pair of large double doors which led to the east wing.

"You had better get undressed here Davy, we don't want them to see you in those muddy clothes do we?" I got undressed down to my underpants which were only just containing my erection. "I think we'll take those off too." She said and helped me step out of them caressing my penis lovingly with her well manicured hands. My penis sprang out almost horizontally. She smiled at it licking her lipsticked lips. 

Mary opened both doors and I was led into the room feeling very nervous, vulnerable and rather embarrassed. "Ladies, this is Davy, he's Jenny Shaw's wee nephew and has agreed to keep us 'entertained' for the rest of the afternoon." 

I looked round the room and saw six ladies probably the same age as Mrs. McAllister or slightly older. They all smiled and greeted me amiably, clearly pleased to see a young male. They stared at my penis which was bobbing around as I stood awkwardly. One lady who was much older than the rest, and had grey wavy hair shook me by the hand and then shook me by my penis saying with a big smile, 'what a big willy for such a wee laddie'. They wore cardigans and sweaters over plaid, cotton or tweed pleated skirts with dark stockings as was the fashion in 1958.

Some were drinking tea by the window. A roaring fire and the two large sofas filled one end of the room. Most of Mary's friends were taller than I and were told to sit by the fire where the sofas had been positioned. A large blanket and pillow lay between them. 

The ladies sat down where their handbags were next to their seats. Mary told me to lie on the blanket, face up, with my head on the pillow. I was very embarrassed that my swollen erection seemed to be the centrepiece of the tableau. Mary stood over me smiling down, straddling my face, so that I had a clear view up her skirt and petticoat. My erection started twitching wildly.

"Ladies," she said, "Davy here, as I mentioned on the phone yesterday, is a wee expert in providing pleasures with his tongue. He's a bit shy just now, but I have had his head up my skirt and he is raring to go. Jean dear, do you want to go first as I know you need to leave early?"

"Aye." said the older lady. She stood up and I could see her thick ankles in dark wrinkled brown stockings walking towards me. She looked very old and I wondered what she would smell like under her large skirt. She stepped over my head and placed her feet firmly each side of my head so I was lying with my face between her shoes. "Don't worry laddie. She may be a bit wet and smelly down there but she certainly won't bite!" "Oh my goodness, "I thought and prepared for the worse. My penis began to shrivel at the notion of my head being up an old lady's skirt.

She raised her black tweed hem, and her cream coloured lacy underslip came into view. Her skirt smelled of mothballs. She lowered her heavy bottom and squatted over my face spreading her legs widely. The other ladies made encouraging comments. I was faced with deliciously flabby white thighs above thick brown stockings which were held up by cream coloured suspenders. These disappeared under cream coloured long lace-edged loose knickers. She smelled wonderfully of lavender but this was lost amongst the overwhelming odour from between her legs. She arranged her thick skirt at the back so that my head was invisible to the rest of the ladies. She shifted herself forward over my head so her knickers were pushed firmly into my nose. Instantly I could feel my penis stiffen again and heard the lady guests commenting on its size. Jean smiled down at me as she pushed herself further onto me. I breathed in her natural scent and eased my tongue enthusiastically into her crevice. I couldn't believe my luck in having a real woman in front of me and within licking distance. All I wanted was to taste her juices. She pulled her knicker leg to one side and I started licking her outer lips and clitoral hood with enthusiasm. She flinched slightly then relaxed. She said laughingly that I was a good laddie and don't stop until she said so. 

The other ladies were chatting away in the background and I could hear one talk of marmalade, and another on houseplants. I heard Mary ask whether more tea was required. I could imagine how we must have appeared to them. Jean above me facing the fire, her pleated tweed skirt and petticoat over my face and upper body, grinding her genital area into my face, my penis on full view, twitching and straining, glistening with pre-cum and my legs bent, bucking up and down. I stroked my penis and started to wank slowly but someone grabbed my wrist and told me to keep that for later. I then felt several shoes on my arms pinning them down so I could not relieve myself. 

Meanwhile Jean's vaginal juices flowed onto my nose and into my eyes. She rocked on her heels holding onto my head for support. I closed my eyes my tongue concentrating on her inner lips and clitoris. She bucked and thrust her pubic area almost violently over my face which was drenched and smelled strongly of hot vagina. Then I felt her muscles tighten as she spasmed and had a loud orgasm which seemed to last for ages. Sweat was pouring off her and she climbed off me her knees cracking from the effort. "You're a fine wee man Davy. My panties are drookit so I'll have to clean myself up." She smiled down at me almost in tears as she stepped over me. 

"OK ladies who's next? How about you Yvonne?" enquired Mary gleaming with pride.. Someone threw me a flannel and I wiped my face and picked out pubic hairs from my mouth. "Yvonne sat up and shook her dress out. She was much younger than Jean and had long black hair. She wore a pale blue cotton dress gathered at the waist which flared out and ended at her knees. 

Towering above me she smiled sweetly and put both feet adjacent to my shoulders so I could clearly see up her dress. Her black-stockinged legs disappeared into a lacy mass of white stiff net petticoats. This was the fashion for younger women in the late 1950s. She then turned round so that her bottom swung over my face at the same time kneeling down, placing her shoes to either side of my head. She was wearing a very delicate pair of white French-knickers with deep edged lace decoration all over. Her knickers were semi-transparent and I was treated to a fantastic view of luxurious suspenders supporting very fine denier hosiery. Her perfume partially masked her natural womanly smell and she was clearly aroused. She backed over me on all fours and lowered her bottom onto my face her vagina facing me. She then shook all the multi-layered underskirts over me then smoothed down her dress to maintain her modesty in front of the others. My penis rolled around and then pointed vertically towards my navel, ramrod tight.

Someone passed her a cup of tea which she hurried finished before bending forwards again. I tried to grab hold of my penis but her legs blocked my approach. "Davy there'll be no wanking now. You have to wait until later or else you'll lose interest in us." Said Yvonne. She came quickly and her underwear was soaked, as was my face again with more hairs stuck between my teeth.

Jean popped her head round the door just as I emerged from under Yvonne's dress and waved a smiling cheery goodbye.

Next to stand over me was Betty; she must have been in her late fifties and had a long pleated plaid skirt over an expensive looking black lace edged petticoat. Her loose knickers were black and her suspenders too. In the firelight I could make out little detail as I stared up between her legs but as she lowered herself onto my upturned face I could see a thick bush of red pubic hair which stank strongly of vaginal juices. Clearly she had been worked up for some time. I tried to wank myself off but various hands gripped my wrists and held them firmly while Betty slid her pubic region vigorously over me nose and tongue for ages and ages. After what seemed like fifteen minutes a large volume of slimy juice gushed out and once again my face was drenched. 

Following another face wiping with the flannel I was ready for Mary's fourth guest. Her name was Maggie and she looked gorgeous. She had exceptionally thin features, very long legs with short blonde hair in a bob. Her legs disappeared under a thin pleated plaid skirt which covered a crisp white petticoat. Under this she wore tan stockings held up by a white plain no-nonsense suspender belt. She eased herself off the chair and stood over me. My eyes savoured every detail of her underwear until I noticed she was not wearing any knickers and I could make out beads of glistening moisture dribbling slowly down her inner thighs. " Oh my goodness!" I gasped staring fixated while she swayed her skirt to and fro. My erection once again was straining and the other ladies were clearly ready to stop me from wanking myself into oblivion. Maggie smilingly teased me for some time before lowering herself onto me. My tongue went straight between her inner lips and licked her clitoral hood and exposed her clitoris to her evident satisfaction. Her warm juices flowed into my nostrils, across my chin and into my mouth. We set up a steady rhythm and she slowly orgasmed as she wiped her slippery inner lips across my tongue and nose.

(To be continued in Part Four)



David's Scottish Cousins Ch. 04



Mary McAllister, my hostess, decided I could do with cleaning up as I was stinking of vaginal fluid from orally pleasuring the previous four ladies. My face and hair were so sticky. "It's no good Davy we'll have to give you a wee shower."

I followed her upstairs staring at her curvaceous bottom delightfully encased by her green and blue pleated tartan skirt, to her bathroom. I got into the bath and she showered me with a hand-nozzle making sure I was thoroughly clean and did not wank. 

"We've still got to keep you perky for the other ladies, haven't we?" she smiled wickedly. She helped me dry off and sprayed me with '4711 Cologne' rubbing it over my face and testicles. On our way downstairs we met Betty and Maggie in their duffel coats who were leaving having cleaned themselves up somewhere else in the big house.

Back in the east wing drawing room the fire had been stoked by Molly, Mrs. McAllister's young home-help. I was led in again naked. My penis was quite small and the ladies eyes followed it around the room as I regained my position lying face upwards on the floor with my head towards the fire. "Molly you can leave us now dear." Molly, openmouthed in wonderment, backed out smiling incredulously at the scene she had left.

Yvonne and two others, introduced as Martha and Linda, sat on the sofas to each side of me smirking contentedly at the new clean eighteen year old waiting on the blanket. Martha, a large woman in her fifties, walked over me edging towards the fire and stood astride my head. Staring up her pleats I noticed her smooth white lace-trimmed nylon petticoat contrasted with the rougher plaid texture of her skirt. Above me I saw black thin-denier stockings held up by crisp white lacy suspenders and between them the flouncy lacy hem of her French-knickers covering a large tuft of black hair.

Molly reappeared with some tea. Yvonne and Linda, seated on the sofa, edged forward to receive their cups and saucers, knees modestly together but feet apart. Yvonne's white nylon net petticoats cascaded downwards behind her legs making her stockings appear blacker than ever. Linda was wearing a plaid pleated skirt and again I could see a very ornate white petticoat on display under her seat. All around me were legs, shoes, stockings, suspenders and petticoats. Above me was a superb upskirt view. As an eighteen year old I was in a fevered state of sexual tension.

Martha, above me, was handed a tea by Molly, who squatted down, knees splayed, displaying her underwear, and asked if I'd like some tea too. I said I was not really ready for one but ideally needed her to wank me off. Red faced, she span round, stood up and walked out. A conversation was in full flow above me. Mary was talking loudly sitting on a chair arm and the other three were laughing and giggling.

What was it about these late middle-aged Scottish women? Why were they always drinking tea and talking about marmalade and the weather in the afternoon? Why were they so tall and their bottoms so big? Why did they mainly wear expensive plaid pleated skirts over delicate lacy lingerie? and why was Martha ignoring me when I was raring to go?

Martha's skirt hem was only six inches above me. The pleats expanded and contracted as she shifted her weight from side to side or laughed. I was in a state of complete sexually frustration as I studied every detail of her hem and underskirt. I had nothing else to do as wanking had, unfortunately, been banned. 

I noticed where her tartan skirt panels were sewn together underneath there were uneven stitches with little threads hanging down. Her petticoat seemed a little too wide for her skirt and became more gathered at one side until she moved her heavy buttocks. The white lace was very fine, mainly encrusted roses, supporting a flounced border with a thin lace hem. Over this was a second tiered flounce finished with an ornate tear-drop lace edging. The lace made a froufrou sound as they rubbed against Martha's scratchy stockings. 

"OK Martha it's getting late and we've still got Linda to go." Laughed Mary. "Are you ready Davy?" whispered Martha as she looked down at me over her shoulder, her dyed ash-blonde curly hair lit from the firelight. 

She descended onto my face while spreading her huge legs wide apart. Facing my feet, she shunted her vast lace-clad derriere onto my face. I parted the legs of her French knickers with my fingers as she flipped her petticoat and skirt over my face and arranged it evenly so that I was enclosed in her private warm dark underworld. Her buttocks slid backwards until my nose was trapped by the heavy flesh surrounding her anus. My tongue found her vagina and I set to work. We gradually built up a rhythm as her pelvic area slipped across my chin and lips. The aroma from between he legs was very strong, almost unbelievably so. Needless to say my penis was rock hard and the scratchy hem of her wool plaid skirt kept touching its head and making it twitch. We continued like this for many minutes until I felt her buttocks clench and tighten and wave after wave of shuddering orgasm gripped her lower body as I kept licking and probing with my tongue.

"Stop, stop," she gasped as she pulled herself off me, her skirt and underwear entangled, and collapsed. "I'm far too, far too sensitive down there now you naughty young rascal." Her flowing vaginal juices left a trail across my mouth, cheeks and neck. Black pubic hair was everywhere. My penis was sticky with precum. Mary threw me another flannel and Martha stepped off me, her shoe scuffed my face. She disappeared upstairs to calm down, urinate and clean up

"Well Linda dear, you are the last. Are you up to it?"

"Aye Mary. Wee Davy has been doing a grand job between the legs of these strange ladies he's never met before. His naughty tongue must be ready for a rest soon I'm sure." Linda winked at me with a huge smile. Her French perfume was quite strong and it made her smell very attractive. Her oval face was framed by thick auburn hair. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She wore a green tartan pleated skirt and as she stood up I noticed a thick lace hem edging her ivory coloured petticoat. 

Again I had a tall Scottish middle-aged woman her shoes to either side of my head facing my feet, straddling my face with her underwear in view. Again my penis rolled to one side then slowly extended to its fully erect position across my bare stomach pointing to my navel. 

Linda spread her legs further apart and noticed that my erection strained even more. She was using my penis as a barometer to judge what I liked best. She lifted her skirt, sat on my face then let her lacy petticoat and pleats drape over by face and chest. Trapped under her ivory coloured loose-legged lacy knickers I nosed myself firmly between her inner lips and allowed her to take control, my tongue ready for her climax. Ten minutes of furious rocking and bucking ended in Linda screaming the house down as she orgasmed over and over again. My face, including even my ears was were covered in slime and I could hardly breath as our combined sweat had created suction between our bodies.

"Oh my, Oh my, Oh my" she wept, shaking but laughing. Her hair was wet across her face and she looked very flushed. She then limped off to the bathroom holding her crotch. 

"Another cup of tea anyone?" Said Molly who had entered the room to investigate Linda's screams and to draw the curtains. Molly again appeared red-faced as she looked at me and my penis and I noticed Mary admonish her with a curt expression.

"Well Davy, you've done well, all the ladies seemed pleased. It's been a lovely afternoon, thank you laddie." Martha and Yvonne nodded approvingly over their teacups. "Now I think it's you who needs to reach a climax don't you?"

"Well I could basically do with a wank," I said as eighteen-year old boys are usually to the point. "OK Davy, would you like me to 'wank you' as you put it?" "I can think of nothing better, Mary," and grinned insanely at her.

"OK, we need some help." She said standing up.

"Molly, what have you got on?"

Molly turned a deep shade of scarlet and said "The usual, Mrs. McAllister."

"No I mean what have you got on underneath your skirt girl?" With that she strode over to the nineteen year old and lifted her skirt exposing net petticoats and various other white frilly things which I couldn't quite make out. 

"Yes, yes they're fine now just go over there and stand with your feet on either side of Davy's head facing this way so you can see what I am doing to him.

My penis jerked into life and squirmed into full erection mode. Molly shyly put one shoe then the other next to each of my ears as I stared up. Her young legs were firm and shapely as she stared down and waved coyly smiling nervously. I took in the view. Her legs were enveloped by pink stiff net petticoats trimmed in white ribbon and leaderline trim which made them extremely bouffant as was the teenage fashion in the late 1950s. Precum started to form at the end of my glistening knob,

"Molly dear, squat down and rest your bum on Davy's face." She ordered.

Her plain cotton knickers suddenly descended and her gusset was firmly planted on my nose. I noticed her panties were slightly soiled. Perhaps she had urinated recently and not wiped herself sufficiently. The odour however was sexy and warm and my penis extended further until my testicles were tighter than I could ever remember. Under Molly's skirt everything was starched and pink as her stiff layers of net rustled noisily against her tan stockings.

I felt Mary's manicured fingers lightly scratch my testicles and inner thighs. Clearly she knew what she was doing. I sensed that Molly was taking mental notes, probably because she had never seen an erect penis in Cairncarron before. Mary's hand was sliding up and down my erection twisting on the down stroke. Her palm was moist. Had she used saliva? My testicles were squeezed then I felt a tongue tickling the underside of my scrotum. I felt her hair move over my thighs and I parted my legs. 

She speeded up her movements and I began to lift my buttocks off the blanket at the same time probing Molly's vaginal slit through her knickers which were clearly absorbing her natural juices. I felt Molly suddenly gasp as she witnessed Mary taking my penis into her warm mouth. "Oh wow, oh wow!" the young girl whispered above me, having never seen a middle aged woman swallowing an eighteen-year olds penis before.

My penis was on fire as Mrs. McAllister flicked her tongue over its head. I was bucking and holding on to Mrs. McAllister's head, fucking her face vigorously. My buttocks were jerking and bucking, jerking and bucking, Mrs. McAllister gurgled to "Go ahead". My face had a strained expression as I continued to rub myself frantically all under Molly's pubic area licking everything within reach of my tongue, rocking my head from side to side under her swishing petticoats.

I felt my balls tighten, a sudden feeling of seminal fluid rising upwards then a final thrust. I pushed down on Mary's head pushed my buttocks up and held her head with both hands while I ejaculated three thick globs of fresh warm sperm into her mouth. I held her tightly while I thrusted a further five times until every ejaculation had finished. I waited until my erection subsided and felt strings of slime sliding out of my penis like harp strings across my belly. Molly kneeled off me and sighed. She may have orgasmed too but could not tell. Mrs. McAllister was looking much disheveled. Her hair was damp and her dark red lipstick was smeared. From her mouth oozed sperm and saliva. I smiled at her almost apologetically and she smiled back, my pubic hair between two of her teeth. We grinned and then eventually got tidied up, and showered with the help of Molly and the others.

"Thanks Davy, for everything," Mary said as I finished my tea on the sofa.

"Well thank you too, wow, gosh and all that," I chuntered awkwardly in my teenage lingo. The other ladies had left, and so had Molly. The fire was almost out and I got up to leave.

"Where are you going Davy?"

"Back to the cottage Mary. Megan and Morag will be worried where I am." I said.

"No they won't, I told them yesterday that you'd be staying here the night. You'll find your clothes for tomorrow as well as other stuff next to my, or should I say 'our' bed."

"Well Davy I did say I'd give you a special treat didn't I?"

"Well you certainly have, this afternoon Mrs. M,"

"No you are going to have your special treats tomorrow Davy. I've got a black taffeta and satin full flouncy Flamenco dress with white cotton multi-tiered lacy petticoats to wear under it, also crisp white cotton lacy French-knickers. You'll enjoy lying on the floor with me standing over you in that dress."

" I also have white stockings and black stiletto shoes. I also have my big pale blue ball gown in layers and layers of tulle and chiffon. Under this I'll be wearing a white nylon net petticoat with several layers of soft nylon net. I haven't decided which French-knickers to wear for you yet as I have so many. I may wear some bloomers. You'll love being face-sat under baggy bloomers Davy, I have several cotton ones and nylon crotchless ones. I may decide to wear my bridesmaid's dress that I had in my twenties. I can still fit into it. I have a special petticoat which fits under it but it's a bit tight but I'm sure you'll manage to squeeze your head under it....."

Mrs. McAllister went on and on, listing all her various voluminous skirts and dresses. petticoats, underskirts, slips, knickers, panties, suspenders, shoes, lingerie and hosiery. It sounded as if I was going to have a long tiring day. I just hoped she had enough flannels and shower soap.

end