11 comments/ 12811 views/ 2 favorites Holy Fuck... Ch. 01 By: Scotsman69 Author's note: This is another Melanie piece, an enchanted few days on a Scottish island. My thanks to my muse for her inspiration, and help with editing. Profound thanks also to raconteuse, who painstakingly edited, and smoothed away the jaggy edges. I'm deeply indebted to both of them. Thanks also to my loyal readers, who have stayed with me through my sometimes erratic posting history. The second and last part of this story has been written, edited, and will be posted in the next few days. Melanie fans should know that the fourth and fifth chapters of 'Journey into Melanie's Reality' are also complete and edited, and will be posted soon. The sixth and final chapter is in progress... Oh, and back to the present piece: you'll understand the point of the title when you've read the second part. ***** Sunlight flittered on gentle waves as they stood by the car at Kennacraig, watching the ferry draw into the linkspan. Cormorants stood on rocks, wings outstretched as if crucified, drying in the warmth. Members of Strathclyde Constabulary stood by a police van, two leashed dogs sitting patiently by them. She pointed to them, wondering: -I wouldn't have thought there's a lot of crime on an island like Islay darling? -No, very little. Most folk in a place like Islay never lock their houses or cars. But drugs get smuggled in on the west coast. Thousands of secluded bays with no living being but sheep and deer for miles. That's what the dogs are for, to sniff it out. They got in the car as several whisky-laden artics rolled off the boat, followed by a dozen or so smaller vehicles. Not a lot of traffic midweek in April. The police pulled in one Transit van, and the dogs leapt into the back, but with laughing apologies the vehicle was allowed to proceed. It was lunchtime, so they headed for the bar once the car was secure on the vehicle deck, found window seats on the starboard side, and ordered sandwiches. He scanned the bar: -Look sweetness, Islay Ale on draught. Want to sample it? I've never heard of it, but micro-breweries are springing up all over. They usually make good ale. She joined him to choose, the barman watching appreciatively as she moved in her short summer skirt: -Hope ye brought something warmer than that fer yer stay on the island lass. The weather's not usually as kind as it is today. -Don't worry, - nudging her man – he's warned me! -This yer first visit? -Yes, first trip here. We wanted to visit somewhere completely new for both of us, and decided on Islay because it was the nearest island. Something about islands – the boat trip makes it a special adventure. There was no other custom at the bar, and the man spent time helpfully explaining the range of ales. They made their choices and retired to their stools by the window, watching birdlife on the shoreline as the ferry picked up speed down West Loch Tarbert. -He's very friendly darling. -Most islanders are, love: not much room for anything else in a wee community. And of course he's interested in you... She slapped his arm playfully: -Sandy! Don't start that nonsense again, please. He laughed: -It isnae nonsense darling. What man could resist you? His hand slid up her naked thigh. She drew breath at the unexpectedness of the sensation: -Please love, not here. We'll share many new things on this holiday, but I don't want to start with public sex on the ferry. I'm not ready for that. But this I need... She slid from the stool and stood beside him, arms encircling him, and drew him into a long kiss: -My first kiss on a ferry – her face was pensive for a second – ever, I think. He stood, pulled her into his loving embrace, kissed all over her face, then drew back: -Jesus darling, I can't get enough of you. What a beautiful start to our wee holiday. Let's finish our sandwiches, eh? My hunger isn't just for you. But first, I must visit the shop. We don't have the Islay OS map, and they'll have a wee guidebook too. When he returned with map and guidebook, she was at the bar sipping a new pint, chatting with the smiling barman: -Did you find what you were looking for my sweet? Ah, I see you did. We're all set for our adventures then? Willie's been very helpful, telling me his favourite places. Maybe you could show us them on the map? Willie beamed with pleasure as the fifty thou was spread on the bar, and spent some time pointing out his recommendations. When he excused himself to serve other customers, they returned to their stools to finish their sandwiches. -Willie suggested we move to the other side soon, so we can watch the shore of Islay passing. What a lovely man. God he adored everything about this remarkable woman. The sparkle in her eyes, her joy in the freshness of the new. She utterly entranced him; had from the first moment they met, a year-and-a-half previously. He was constantly surprised and flattered that she'd chosen him. His woman. His Melanie. He felt his years drop away when they were together. Food and drink inside them, they moved to port, stepped out on deck. Dappled sunlight lit the slopes of Beinn Bheigier as their arms slid round each other. He sighed and drew her into a kiss: -God, I love my wee country darling. But not as much as I love you. His fingers moved to her breasts, small and firm, exquisite. He felt the nipple hardening under his touch and she moaned into their kiss: -Oh sweetness, please don't start me. I'm on a hair-trigger, wanting you. He smiled and dropped the teasing hand to her knee, slipping it up her muscled thigh: -I want you soaking by the time we get to the hotel darling. -Oh love, please don't. I'm soaking already... But her legs shuffled apart. Glancing around to check nobody else was in sight, his fingers drifted up under the short loose skirt till he was stroking her sex through wet panties. He drew her back into a secluded corner, pressed her against the steel superstructure, and his hand slid under the flimsy silk. -Darling, please, I'm ready to burst, but not in public... -Wheesht lass, we're quite alone, and you need this. Her clit was engorged, her labia swollen, and his fingers worked her need. She panted and moaned into his mouth: -Oh god love, yesss... His movements quickened and she convulsed in his arms. He loved watching her face in orgasm, the most beautiful sight ever. His hand was soaking: -More darling mine? -No love, not now, please? I want your mouth for the next one, and you can't do that here. Anyway – she shivered slightly – I'm getting cold. -Can't have that then. Let's get you inside. They spent most of the rest of the crossing in the bar, he learning the map, she studying the guidebook. She giggled at one point, kissed his cheek softly: -Look sweetness, here's an interesting church. Maybe we can complete what was interrupted in Dunblane last week? -Which church love? -Bowmore Parish Church, look, here: -Ah yes – glancing at the guidebook – it's quite famous. It's in every architectural guide to the country. Not many circular kirks in Scotland. And it'll be open to visitors... but very quiet midweek at this time of year. So we may be in luck. I'd visit it if I were here alone. But with you... His cock, already tumescent from the excitement of playing with her cunt earlier, stiffened at the thought. She noticed, and stroked it surreptitiously through his jeans. It was his turn to protest: -No sweetness, please, not here. I'm on a hair-trigger too... but I need to save it for you, when we get to our room. She laughed and withdrew her hand. She knew from long experience that he could seldom orgasm more than once a day, though it had happened on a few memorable occasions: -Just getting you back for teasing me. Yes darling, naked in our room in – she glanced at her watch – less than an hour. We should be arriving soon? -Aye, about fifteen minutes. You up to going on deck again? -Yes love, let's. I'm very warm now. -Starboard deck first. I've never seen the Paps of Jura up close. -The what? -Jura's the adjacent island, and has three fine mountains. From their shape, they're called paps. Scots for a woman's breasts. Jura's other claim to fame is that George Orwell wrote '1984' there when he was dying of TB. Stupid place for a man with TB to stay – it must be one of the wettest bits of Scotland. Let's have a look. They stepped on deck to see the mountains of Jura rise above to the right, but something else caught Melanie's attention: -Look darling, seals! -Aye, grey seals, Atlantic seals. You'll see a few on this trip love, much closer than this. They're everywhere on the west coast. Her excitement was infectious, though he'd seen seals aplenty. He took her precious face in his hands, watching the almost childlike joy in her eyes. Kissed her parted lips. The engine-throb beneath them changed and he drew back: -Very nearly there love. Let's go to the other side and see Port Askaig. He watched her face as the wee ferry port drew closer. A pier, a small cluster of houses and shops, a hotel, fishing boats bobbing at anchor, sentinel cormorants on the rocks. The call came for drivers and passengers to return to their vehicles. She turned to him, eyes gleaming: -What a beautiful place to bring me to darling. Thank you so much. They kissed softly before returning to the vehicle deck. When they drove off the ferry a few minutes later, he looked for space to pull off out of the light traffic. Got out of the car. She followed suit: -Why did you stop love? -First Islay kiss is why darling. Come here. She was against a wall, his body shielding her as they kissed. His fingers moved up her thigh, stroked her wet pantiless cunt: -My beautiful dirtygirl. You got ready for me? -Had to sweetness, took them off when I went to pee. They were too soaked to wear, and I didn't want to waste time in the hotel. Now – pushing him away gently - let's get there as quickly as is safe. They barely noticed the interior as they waited impatiently for the hotel registration to be completed. Rushed upstairs with their luggage to find their room. Dropped everything when they entered. Stripped each other in afternoon sunlight through the window. Fell on the bed in tangled urgency. -Need to taste you, Melanie. His head went to her smooth wet cunt. Lapped feverishly, couldn't get enough of this, the most beautiful cunt in the world. All his. He stilled when she twisted round, swallowed his cock: -No darling, need you so much, and our first on this island will be in this... gorgeous... needy... cunt... She moved obediently, lay on her back. He watched her face as the orgasm overtook her, the beatific smile which followed. Pushed her back on the bed. Thrust into her: -God how I adore you my darling. Everything about you. But... right... now... this... beautiful... cunt... needs... spunked... -Oh jesus yes lover, right now... She groaned as he stuffed a pillow under her bum to alter his angle of entry, lifted her knees over his shoulders... -Yess, my sweet, right there... ohhh... -Yes darling, you own this cock, pure lovefuck... jesus, so close... -Oh god ohgod ohhhhh And they grunted and whimpered together as the orgasm hit them, hung suspended from reality as they fused, juddering in frenzy at their completion. ***** Later, after they'd unpacked, they decided to go exploring before dinner. Port Charlotte Hotel was lovely, a nineteenth-century stone building right on the water's edge, and their room looked east over Loch Indaal. It was pricier than they'd normally have gone for, but this was a very special holiday, so the wee bit extra was worth it. They booked a table for dinner at eight, and headed southwest to the end of the single-track road and the most westerly village on the island, Portnahaven. Their crossing earlier had been in the lee of the island. Portnahaven faced west across the open Atlantic: next landfall was Nova Scotia. Huge waves broke on rocks beyond the sheltered harbour, around which crowded a few terraces of fisherfolks' low stonebuilt cottages. -Just as well I changed into trousers. This wind would have torn my flimsy skirt off. -Ach yes. I thought it might be like this. That's why I encouraged you to change, though it'd deny me easy access. You know I always put your welfare before mine darling. -That so? That'll be why you brought the crop then? Putting my welfare before yours... -I brought the crop because you need it sometimes. Stop being coy. I don't have to remind you that you've got off several times having your cunt beaten with it. In fact – his cock stiffened at the thought – maybe you require that tonight. -I don't think so. But her eyes were sparkling mischievously. He kissed her nose and took her hand: -Time to explore darling. But first, I need to pop into the shop. Something I forgot to bring. Just in case. Puzzled, she followed him into the wee village shop, just as the owner was ready to shut for the evening: -Packet of Durex please. She shivered. They never used condoms. She knew why he'd bought them, and was scared. Maybe a little excited, but mostly scared... They were walking past a row of cottages facing west over the wee harbour when her hand tightened in his: -Darling, what on earth's that? -What's what love? -That sound? It's unearthly, scary, but very beautiful. His hearing wasn't as sharp as hers, but when he cocked his left ear to the harbour, he detected it. A high ululating keening, a bit like the whine of insects approaching and retreating, but more sonorous. He'd heard it before, but couldn't place it... -Look! I didn't see them at first, but one just moved... grey seals again, yes? He got the binocs out, scanned the harbour. There must have been twenty of them, mostly lounging immobile on rocks, but one was swimming, only its nose above the surface, its grey-spotted body a shadow below the water. -Oh darling, how beautiful! I've only heard that a handful of times. Maybe it's a mating call, I'm not sure. But they're singing for you tonight. He gave her the binocs and watched as she stood entranced, his eyes moving between her face and the sources of the weird sounds; her eyes glued through the glasses on the mammals. Eventually she sighed and looked at him. He'd never seen quite such wonderment on her face before: -D'you know love, it's so magical I can almost believe they're doing it for me? He took her in his arms and kissed her mouth gently: -They are darling. Like me, they've never seen anyone so beautiful in their lives. There are lots of legends about them. In Orkney and Shetland they're called selkies, and in myth some selkies are part-human. Maybe that's where mermaids came from, I don't know. But I do know that tonight, they're singing to welcome you to their island. They walked down to the headland, watched Atlantic rollers crash on the rocks in the approaching gloaming. She shivered in the sharp wind, hugged him: -Let's get somewhere more sheltered love? He glanced at his watch: they had over an hour before dinner: -Mm, maybe check out the village pub, for future reference? Sometimes in places like this you can get the most beautiful seafood, just hours out of the water. The place was wee and busy. Typical fishing pub; no fancy concessions to tourists, just the basics: food and drink, and unpretentious furniture upon which to consume them. They bought Laphroaigs to warm themselves up, and studied the menu. Not much studying required: there were few items on it. A family, and two couples, were eating various seafoods and steak pie – about the extent of the menu. All were clearly enjoying their food. She squeezed his hand: -What d'you think darling? -It feels right. Maybe we'll eat here tomorrow evening? -Yes, tomorrow then. Now – draining her whisky – we should be getting back. The hotel restaurant looks a bit formal. I'd like to change before we eat. And – glancing at his jeans – maybe you should too? There were a handful of other patrons in the hotel restaurant when they entered. No likely candidates for what he had in mind, she noted with relief. They were shown to their table by their waitress, a bored-looking lass. From the island, judging by her voice. Dinner was fine, but not worth what they paid for it. They settled the bill, and keeked in the bar. Very quiet. She tugged at his hand, not wanting him to drink anything more: -Let's go up darling. There's more pleasure and entertainment in our room than there is here. And I'm getting tired. It's been a lovely eventful day. I want to lie down. And I want to be with you, alone. Just to be together a bit, before we sleep? He followed her up the stairs, his eyes on her shapely arse swaying under the dress. Wanting her again. In the room she said: -I'd like to soak in the bath for a bit love. It's narrow: there's not room for two comfortably. D'you mind having yours after me? He read the island guide as she bathed. She emerged from the bathroom naked, brushing her long brown hair. God, she was beautiful... and more than beautiful: the best mate in the world. His soulmate. He kissed her as she slipped into bed, then he stripped, and went for his bath. When he returned, she was asleep. She stirred as he climbed in beside her, though he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. Leaned over and kissed him: -Lie down sweetness. I need something. I'm refreshed and hungry after my little nap. He obeyed. She reached under the pillow, drew out the eyemask. He lifted his head and blackness descended upon him. Felt her fold the duvet back, till it fell off the bottom of the bed. Her fingers on his soft cock. Then it was in her mouth. Oh jesus, he loved her mouth on him. Tongue swirling him softly, teasing. He was glad she'd drawn him upstairs from the bar. Every nerve in him was tingling from her ministrations. -Know why I'm doing this my sexman? -Why? -Touch my arse and you'll know love. He stroked down her spine as she renewed her devotion to him. Feathered the fine down he loved in the small of her back. Fingered her muscular arsecheeks, feeling her shiver at his touch as his penis hardened in her mouth. She shifted position so her arse opened to him and his fingers traced down her crack, teased her hole. She trembled, and he pressed his forefinger into her. Hot and greasy arse, the arse he adored. Pressed all the way in, his cock fully erect now, knowing where it was going. His finger withdrew, and on the next entry was joined by the middle one. Her arse was wet now, not just greasy. His other hand felt for her dangling breasts, nipples hard and needy. The fingers in her arse moved faster as she took his length in her throat. Then she pulled away and removed the eyemask. Her face was glowing into his as she kissed him, a hard wanting kiss: -You know what I have to have, my love. Give me. She lay on her back: -This way. Want to see you. -Oh my sweet... He pushed three pillows under her and her legs lifted over his shoulders. His cock pressed into her slimy arse. She tensed, and he felt her muscles grip his need: -Fuck me. Fuck your dirtygirl's arse. Hard. Ohhh... -Need you darling, need this. Most beautiful arse in the world. Mine... as this... cock... is yours... He hadn't expected this, after their sex just a few hours previously, but he was gripped in frenzy for his wonderful woman. Her fingers went to her cunt as he slid in her wetness. His mouth sank to her breasts, suckled one, then the other, teeth tugging her nipples, twisting, his cock driving into her relentlessly. She groaned one of her most delicious sexsounds and he knew the start of her orgasm... he was hanging on the edge now, legs trembling with the pleasure her body was giving him, the closeness, oh jesus... Holy Fuck... Ch. 01 -Ohfuck ohfuck OHFUCK... Her arse tightened on him in orgasm, and the wetness soaked their groins as he watched her eyes roll up. His most beautiful lover... but he knew he wouldn't cum again, and eventually slipped out of her. Her look was disappointed, but accepting, as always. -Tomorrow darling. In the morning, before breakfast. You'll get my spunk. Now, perhaps it's time to sleep? Holy Fuck... Ch. 02 Author's note: The first part of this was recently posted. You're advised to read it before you read this. My thanks as ever to my muse, for her inspiration and editing, and to raconteuse, who has greatly assisted with editing. And of course, to my readers, whose support and interest has helped sustain my writing. If you're new to Melanie, there are two earlier chapter stories about her, with lots of red Hs against them. Do please have a look: I know that if you liked this, you'll like them too. 'Journey into Melanie's Reality' is almost complete now, and the remaining chapters will be posted soon. ***** He woke slowly, half-dreaming... but it was no dream. Her face was above his, her breasts dangling lewdly over his chest. And her hips were pumping hotly on his cock embedded in her sex. She panted as she watched his eyes flutter open: - Good morning my sweet. Sorry, couldn't wait. I woke wet and needy. Hope you don't mind? Her smile was bewitching, illuminated by love. His heart melted, his body trembling in joy and excitement as she fucked him: - My sweet numpty... the most beautiful way to start the day... take everything you need from me. I belong to you... oh fuck... - Course I had to wash your cock first... oh my sweet man... how I love you... He thrust into her as the speed of her movements on him increased: - Ohh darling, not going to last if you keep this up, going to spunk you... - Yes love, need that... so close now. Cum to me darling one, give me your seed... - Yes sweet... touch my balls... She felt the contraction as her fingers feathered his scrotum: - Ohhhh jesusgod... They convulsed and groaned together as the jaggy lightning of sudden ecstasy struck them. She collapsed on him, sweatsoaked, their groins welded, her orgasm lingering long after he was spent, hips still moving on him, but with less urgency. Eventually she stilled, kissed his eyes: - Well, that's sorted for now. Are you ready for your breakfast? His answering look had her exploding with laughter. They rose, stood naked at the window, watching the rain sweep up Loch Indaal: - You'll need warm clothes today darling. If this keeps up it'll be a car-tour and indoor pursuits. What d'you fancy? - Well, we can't visit Islay without seeing a distillery, can we? No point in doing that on a dry day... - Sounds fine to me. But now -- kneeling before her -- you can't get dressed till I've cleaned you up a bit, can you? - Yes, I need that, and so do you. On the bed with you man... They cleaned each other, then dressed for the day. Over breakfast, their young waitress Katie said: - Ye'll be pleased tae ken the forecast says the rain'll lift later. Melanie smiled at her: - Sounds like a distillery visit this morning then. Any recommendations Katie? - Ach weel... Ardbeg's supposed tae be good value, and the tours are hourly even at this time of year. Mibbe ye should try there? So after breakfast, Melanie drove them up round the shores of Loch Indaal, wipers flailing in the driving rain, then southward to Bowmore, the largest village on the island. When she turned left in the village centre, there was the kirk at the top of the hill. Sandy peered closely at the entrance as they passed it: - Aye, as I thought, looks like it's open to visitors... His hand stroked the denim on her thigh, and she eased her legs wider as she drove so he could feel into her heat: - Darling, I'm wet at the thought... but if you don't want us to end up in the ditch, perhaps you'd better leave me alone? For now... A few miles of bleak peatland, then they were past the airport, through Port Ellen, and eastward along the south coast for the few miles to Ardbeg. They arrived just after ten, and the first tour began at ten-thirty, so they had time to look round the shop. Melanie was fascinated by the tour, and whilst Sandy had visited many distilleries, every one was different. When their small group stopped by one of the stills to listen to their attractive young guide's explanation of the process, his hand stroked Melanie's arse and he whispered in her ear: - Mmm, I wouldn't mind her joining us for play... - Maybe I wouldn't either darling... though Katie's nearer to hand, and so sweetly shy... The tour moved on, and ended with everyone sampling a sixteen year-old measure of the distillery's product. The rain was down to a smirr by the time they left the building. Melanie handed him the car keys: - I think you'd better drive, love. That went straight to my head. What now? - There's the ruin of a celtic church a few miles further up the road darling. Want to have a look? It's probably more ancient than any building you've ever seen. She was glad she wasn't driving as he navigated the twisting single-track road, braking suddenly at passing places to allow the occasional oncoming vehicle through. Then they were at the signpost: Kildalton Church. The small kirkyard was dominated by a large eighth-century celtic cross, complete and surprisingly unweathered for something that had been exposed to the harsh Atlantic elements for well over a millennium. Melanie studied the guidebook, tracing the elaborate biblical carvings with an archaeologist's practised fingers. Sandy sensed her mood. The spirituality of her younger self showed through at times, and he knew she needed to be alone. He wandered through the medieval graveyard, stood before one of the guardian yew trees that Scots Christianity had adopted from pagan times. Rolled a fag and reflected in awe that this remarkable and beautiful woman had chosen him as her lifemate. Presently she wandered over to him. Her face glowed as it did after orgasm, transcendent. Her voice was reverentially hushed as she whispered: - It's just so beautiful darling. Everything, the cross, the churchyard, you... I'm so glad we came here. Let's look at the church now? The building was roofless but otherwise intact, and dated from the twelfth century. A small rectangular structure, curved Norman windows and doorway. Breathtaking in its simplicity. He felt her retreat again into a part of her soul he couldn't reach, and was content to let her wander round the ruin alone. Eventually she leaned back against the damp wall: - Come here darling. They embraced, kissed softly. His fingers went to her groin: - I want to make love to you here my sweet, but it's too cold and damp. Are you needing attention? At her nod, his fingers went to the fastening of her jeans, and his hand slipped inside her panties. Felt her wetness, began stroking gently, teasing her as she breathed heavily in his mouth: - Oh yes love, need this... His fingers gathered speed in the warmth of her sex, feeling her wee hardness protrude from its hiding place. His mouth lifted from hers, his fingers more insistent, whetting her need. He felt the fire growing in her, kissed her beloved eyes, her sex thrusting against his hand. She groaned as two fingers entered her, curled to the soft sponge in the wall of her cunt. Her surreal cry was a prayer fulfilled in the sanctity of this ancient place, her squirt the fountain of all that was wholesome. She sank in his arms, shaking. Sounds of a vehicle stopping on the road beside the kirkyard. He licked her neck, up to her gasping lips, kissed her beloved mouth; busied to refasten her jeans. A couple stood by the cross as they passed and exchanged greetings. Melanie was beyond words. They got in the car. He didn't ask her, just drove the couple of miles north to where the road ended at Claggain Bay. He reached to the back seat, lifted the rucsac from it. Glanced at her: - Time for lunch sweetheart? The rain had come again, not heavily, but enough to keep them in the car for now. He smiled. Her vibrant brown eyes were on him: - A penny? - Oh, just remembering my daughters telling me this. They grew up thinking that picnics were something you had in the car, with rain drumming on the roof. - I'm not surprised, in this wet country of yours. Now, what's for lunch? The rain had lifted by the time they'd finished the tea and sandwiches. They left the car and his eyes were on Beinn Bheigier. The hillwalking gear was in the back of the car, but with heavy mist down below a thousand feet, they'd not be donning it today. Melanie was looking intently out to sea. She gripped his arm: - Look sweetness, what are they? He followed her gaze. A couple of large birds circled over the bay, a few hundred yards out, black wingtips and pale yellow heads on otherwise white bodies. One folded itself and plunged vertically into the sea, maybe a hundred feet below; a splash when the bird hit the water. It emerged and took off seconds later, a wriggling fish in its beak. - They're gannets darling. Solan geese is the old Scots name. Some of the biggest colonies in the world nest on inaccessible islands off our shores. Aren't they beautiful? - Everything's beautiful my love. Everything in this world has its own beauty. They lingered on the empty beach for a few minutes, but she began shivering, so they returned to the car. Headed back they way they'd come, heater full on, the road wending inland before returning to the shore at Loch a' Chnuic. She touched his cheek: - More seals! Can we stop? He parked and lifted his camera. The tide was in, the seals on rocks only yards off the short beach. Alas, they weren't singing, but he managed some good closeup studies with the zoom. His eyes wandered the shoreline, but with the tide in, only a couple of oystercatchers peep-peeped on the wee beach. He was about to hand her the binocs so she could study these most iconic of Scots birds, when her fingers tightened on his arm: - There darling, there was something there... His eyes followed her finger, but saw no movement. He gave her the glasses, turned to fetch his old ones from the car. When he returned seconds later she was focused on a vee-shaped streak in the calm water of the inlet: - That's not a seal, is it? He fiddled with the focus till the view came sharp. He breathed carefully, not wanting to send the shy creature into hiding. Whispered: - No sweet. It's an otter. Don't move, and don't make a sound. Just watch. It likely has a mate. They watched entranced as a second otter emerged from behind the rocks, and the two sleek beasts began tumbling together in the water, playing as few other wild mammals do. After about ten minutes they disappeared behind an outcrop of rock, and didn't reappear. He turned to her: - That's only the third time in my life I've been privileged to watch otters at play love. Thank you for your sharp eyes. They're shy and elusive beasts. A bit like you sometimes... as you were in the kirkyard. A heavy burst of rain drove them back to the car and he handed her the keys: - Your turn to drive love. It was still raining as they approached Bowmore Kirk. She glanced at him as she drove past it: - Now, darling? At least this one has a roof... His fingers went to her groin: - Is she wet? Needing something? Melanie groaned and parked the car. They walked up the hill hand in hand to face the stark simplicity of the building. The door was shut against the elements but not locked. The interior looked as though it hadn't been altered since the place was built, over two centuries previously. A broad wooden gallery ran round the walls above the circular nave. The building echoed with emptiness, suffused with the mustiness of old kirks everywhere. It wasn't warm. They breathed the spirit of the place for a few silent minutes. Then Melanie nodded to the gallery: - Up there'd be best. As far as possible from the door, in case we're interrupted? Her hand went to his groin: - Glad you're as ready as I am darling. Bet you can smell my need. He knelt reverently, his nose to her cunt: - Yes. Now my sweet. They climbed the stairs, explored the gallery nervously, searching for the best place for their holy sacrilege, out of sight of the entrance downstairs, and secluded from direct view from the stairway. The building's acoustics reflected their every movement, so they were confident they would hear anyone enter. At the very top of the gallery, she pointed to the solid wooden barrier behind the rearmost pew, maybe four feet high. She whispered, awed from her Christian upbringing at the delicious violation of sanctity they were about to perpetrate: - Here love? He drew her to him, kissing her neck, her sweet mouth, his fingers fumbling with nervous excitement at the fastening of her jeans. She pushed him away gently: - Well, my fine atheist, I'm glad you're as affected as I am by the enormity of this act. She slipped off her shoes, shucked jeans and panties down, stepped out of them. Leaned back against the barrier, baring her cunt lewdly at her lover. He knelt and nosed the glistening wetness, her scent filling his being as it always did, whispered: - For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Attacked her orally with a need that took the breath from her lungs. She panted: - Just do it. Fuck me. No need for foreplay, and every second we waste increases the likelihood we'll be interrupted. She twisted round and leaned over the barrier, wiggling lewdly, presenting cunt and arse to him. His jeans and briefs were at his knees in seconds, erection sliming her beautiful bum: - Need your cunt first, then your arse. She groaned as he slid in her welcoming wetness, pushed back against him: - Whatever you want, I need... Her fingers reached for her clit. His hand moved under her top, squeezed one nipple then the other, twisted till she breathed: - Oh god. Arse. Now. He drove into her anus hard, one hand scrabbling at her tits, the other reaching for her throat: - The holy fuck we've both fantasised about my sweet... not going to last. - Me neither, beautiful. Consecrate me. Give me your blessed seed... - Ohh jesusfuck... Her body shuddered as the spunk filled her. He slumped on her back, feeling the furious heartbeat thudding through her, as his resounded against her back. A creaking sound, then voices below. She went rigid and he withdrew, pushing a tissue in her arse. They fumbled to right their clothes as the voices grew louder, and a couple came into view in the nave. The same couple they'd passed at Kildalton Cross earlier. Melanie was still drawing her jeans up as she called down to them: - Well, we meet again? Seems we share some interests... Sandy was amazed, as so often, at her self-control. The woman below called back, a New England accent: - Why yes, we're exploring our Celtic heritage. You? Melanie laughed, a real laugh: - Well, we're exploring too. But we're just on holiday; neither of us have any connections here. Historical connections, I mean... They waited at the top of the stairs as the couple ascended laboriously. Sandy sensed his partner might have lingered, but he glanced pointedly at his watch: - Sorry folks, we have to go. Enjoy the rest of your trip. He almost stumbled on the stairway, had to catch the banister to steady himself. Outside, the rain had finally stopped, and there were traces of sunlight behind the heavy Atlantic cloud. ***** Two days later they were up early to catch the first ferry back to the mainland. The sun was shining for their departure, as it had for their arrival. Their stay on the island had been a jumble of craft shops, wildlife, folksongs in the bar of the hotel, and the most intimate companionship. The condoms hadn't been used, and she didn't know whether she was relieved or disappointed. They hardly spoke over breakfast, or on the drive to the ferry. There was no need. They'd never been closer. At Port Ellen they wandered the pier after parking the car in the queue. Watched boats tying up after a night's fishing, open crates of fish being raised to the quayside. He identified the species he knew for her and they murmured companionably, arms loosely around each other. On the ferry they sat in the bow lounge, touching but not needing. No alcohol: they were sharing the long drive back to the city. The crossing passed in a dream for them, a dream of the togetherness they'd shared in a beautiful place that was uniquely new for both of them. Approaching Kennacraig, the call came to return to the vehicle deck. He slipped her the keys: - You're on first shift love, if that's okay? Her lips met his, gentle completed love, before they eased themselves into the car. On the way up Loch Fyneside, she was too focused on the twisting road to notice the sun sparkling on the loch to the right, and by Lochgilphead he knew he ought to be driving. Melanie hadn't been here before and he had, many times: - Darling mine, you've done your bit. Time for you to see something of Argyll. Do you know that this single Scots county has a coastline longer than France? A roguish smile creased her face: - Jesus sweetness, please don't start in your how-wonderful-is-Scotland mode. A girl can only take so much... but yes, I'd like to be a passenger now, a tourist. She sat back, absorbing the rugged beauty of the land, the tranquillity of the sun dancing on the gentle water of Loch Fyne, as he spoke with love of what she was seeing. She was lulled into another place, deep inside her head, into the depths of her soul. She had never felt so secure as she did now with Sandy. Gravel crunching under the tyres drew her from her reverie. - Lunchtime, darling. She glanced through the car window. A modest two-storey Georgian building. The sign said 'Cairndow Inn'. - Um... we're continuing your literary explorations. Burns stayed here during his tour of the highlands. They supped soup and ate sandwiches. He drank water, but urged her to sample a pint of the Deuchar's ale. - You don't need to try and loosen me up my sweet. I'm approaching mid-cycle... Sandy knew exactly what that meant. Shivered in anticipation as he placed the pint before her. They spoke lightly, but the sex between them quivered beneath their words. When he went to piss before they left, he was glad it was a urinal. His cock was so hard, it would have been painful to pee in a toilet. As they sped up the long straight road through Glen Kinglass, he pointed to the ragged mountain towering to the south at the head of the glen: - That's the one we climbed last year darling: Beinn an Lochain. The car breasted the summit, Rest and be Thankful, she remembered. As they began the long descent of Glen Croe, his voice startled her from the ache in her cunt. There was a hoarseness there she knew well: - I want you to do something for me my dirtygirl. For me, and for you. Her mind stopped functioning. She heard nothing but sexneed in his voice: - What darling? You know I'll do anything for you... - Remove your jeans and panties and wank for me. She flooded at his words. Removed her shoes. As he took the bends at sixty, she eased her hips from the seat, removing jeans and panties. Spread her legs wide, her hand working between her thighs: - Like this... master? He glanced at her engorged labia, blooming like the most exotic flower in the world. His eyes returned to the road as it made a final bend before the shore of Loch Long. He was shaking at her use of the word, barely able to growl: - Yes darling. I want to hear and smell you get off. We'll be passing through Arrochar in a few minutes. Lots of folk around... She teased her clit, leaned over to touch the bulge in his jeans: - Darling, can't we stop somewhere and fuck... please? I need you. - Just concentrate on getting yourself off dirtygirl. So she did. As they approached the village she slid three fingers deep in herself, stroked then rubbed, her other hand working her clit. There were folks on the pavements now, a few feet from her, as he drove carefully through the village, but she didn't care, she was nearly there, that was all that mattered... Holy Fuck... Ch. 02 - God I love you my sweet sexwoman. Cum for me now darling, please. We're just passing a parked coach, and there are eyes on you, on what you're doing to your cunt... She watched her own naked sex as it exploded. Liquid pulsed in the air and she keened the beauty of her completion. For her man. For herself. ***** She drew the jeans up her legs, settled on the damp seat. Sandy reached back for a towel, and she folded it under her gratefully. Loch Lomond twinkled in afternoon sunlight, the mass of Ben Lomond dominating the opposite shore. Despite the beauty of the journey, her eyes fluttered closed, her man's voice murmuring of what they were passing. Memories of their enchanted island twined with the awful reality that soon they must part again. But her mind kept returning to Islay, to some of the most bewitching days she'd ever experienced... She felt the touch of his hand on her thigh through jumbled half-dreams. The engine noise ceased. He was kissing her as she reached back upward into reality, a swimmer breaking through the surface after too long underwater. - Welcome home, darling.