8 comments/ 10363 views/ 1 favorites Next Time in London By: Euan Those who want to know about the Hebrides will search in vain for my Island on a map, it is Tír na nÓg, where I grew up and discovered my self. It is many Islands and many people. There is no one Sarah, just several people who educated me. As Willy Nelson sang, "To all the girls I've loved before Who travelled in and out my door I'm glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I've loved before To all the girls I once caressed And may I say I've held the best For helping me to grow I owe a lot I know To all the girls I've loved before" The boat ran down the face of the wave, and I stood there resting the tiller on my backside. I looked at the watch, and noticed that we were going to be late for the evening meal, so I lent over and pushed the engine control forward a bit. Immediately the noise of the engine changed, and as the boat went faster, there was a splash of spray came over the side of the boat. One of the girls screamed. Suddenly I was carried back almost 40 years to when I was working in the Islands. After my first summer working on the islands managing a coffee shop I went back each summer working somewhere else, in the same area, but doing different jobs in Hotels, until in the year that I graduated, I got a job working in the conference centre. There was quite a big permanent staff as the centre was open all year round, but in the summer they employed, as their advertisement went, "Students of relevant disciplines with relevant other skills" as temporary staff. I was quite good at my subject, and in my final year had written my dissertation on the relationships between the Islands and Ireland and when I had been doing it, I met up with some of the academic staff of the centre and was known as someone who was really quite good all round. I also had a boatman qualification and a driving licence. I therefore found my self in an interesting position, on both the academic and the temporary staff. I gave lectures and helped with practical work at the academic end, but I also drove and was in charge of the boat belonging to the Centre, which was also on occasions used as a ferry. There were two ways to get to the Island. One was by car ferry from the mainland to the north of the Island. The other was by a passenger ferry from the mainland to the south of the Island. We usually brought our students across on the passenger ferry, and got them to walk up to the Centre. The road from the North End left a lot to be desired. Usually there was only one ferry boat in operation at the South End ferry, when things were busy; the Centre boat was used as a ferry for the students. One Saturday in late August, everything which could go wrong had. There was a summer gale kicking up a sea in the sound, which meant that the ferry couldn't be run until the tide turned at about 4.00 pm. There was a crash on the main road south which meant that cars couldn't get through to the vehicle ferry which was still running. It was going to be a long evening. We got the students over to the Island as quickly as possible promising them that their baggage would follow later. Eventually it was nearly finished. The regular ferryman had gone off to moor up the main boat, and I was left with one more trip to do with a load of baggage. Bill my crew member and I had just finished loading up when a small balding man hurried down the jetty. "Is this the ferry for the Conference Centre?" "That's right." "I'm very sorry to be so late, but we had a puncture on the A74 and we were held up". Can you take us over? "How many of you are there?" "There are four of us" "Well just get your baggage down here and we'll take you over. Bring the car down the jetty, it'll be quicker" The man's face fell. "I don't think that any of us would want to try reversing the car down the jetty." "All right, I'll do it. I got out of the boat, went up to the car park where there was a Volvo with three women standing, leaning against it. Its funny how people treat you when they think that you're just one of the workers. I was simply ignored by three of the people, while the blond with the acne scared face, gave me a smile. "Ah!" I thought, "you might do." I checked that I was insured to drive the car, jumped into the car, and reversed it down the jetty, with the passengers followed. We opened the boot and unloaded the luggage. "Do you think you can get the car up the Jetty?" The man shot me a look of pure loathing. He jumped into the car and with a screech of tyres -- made worse by the weed on the jetty, headed off to the car park. I turned to the three women, "Well you'd better get on board, and make yourselves comfortable, it's going to be bumpy." Two of them hung about irresolutely obviously waiting for their leader to come back. The blond came to the stern of the boat and stood beside me. "Do you mind if I stand beside you?" she asked me "I've never been in as small a boat before." I smiled, I thought of learning to row aged about 6, in an 8 foot pram dinghy, compared to it the 40 foot ferry was enormous. "This is like a liner. I could take you out in a much smaller boat then this, though not in this weather." "You know I think that might be fun. The small bald man came down the jetty and the two other women seemed to fuss around him. "The tall one is Jenny, she's his wife, the other one is Joan and she'd like to be; by the way I'm Sarah." "I'm Euan". At a nod, form me, Bill got out of the boat, undid the painter pulled the boat back down the jetty, jumped in. I pushed the tiller hard over. I put the propeller into reverse and gave a kick on the engine. The stern of the boat came round. I pushed the Tiller over, changed gear to forward, and we set off across the sound. While it was navigateable, there was quite a sea running and the boat splashed spray over us all. The blond woman who was only wearing a light turquoise raincoat, was getting wet, her colleagues we much more sensibly clothed, though personally I wouldn't have stood where they were standing on the windward side of the boat. Bill crouched under the foredeck of the ferry where there was only room for him I throttled back to reduce the spray coming on board. "Come here" I said to the blond. She moved closer, and I placed her to my lee, took my hand off the tiller, and sat on it. I opened my black PVC oilskin coat, and drew her in to under my arm. "Sorry, it's so friendly, but you are otherwise going to get soaked." I raised my voice over the noise of the engine. "I'd move over to the other side of the boat if I were you, it'll be dryer there." I gunned the engine, going that little bit too fast for the conditions so that there was a continued sheets of spray coming on board the open boat. The three up forward moved over to the lee side of the boat. The bald man turned an interesting shade of Green, and began to throw up with that abandon of those who are suddenly struck down with sea sickness. "Keep it off the deck, Bill will have to clean that up" I shouted, "be sick down to Leeward." Sarah nudged me in the ribs. "That'll take him down to size." After about 15 minutes, we came into the jetty, set the boat along side. One of the centre drivers took the lines, I handed the passengers ashore, where they were taken off in a Land Rover to the Centre, while the other driver and Bill and I unloaded the baggage. The driver spoke to me. "John asked me to tell you that the welcome meeting has been put back to 19.00, so that you can't skive it." I smiled, I was notorious for missing the introductory meeting so that the students got a surprise when the boatman and van driver came in to the core lectures on the Sunday Afternoon to give a talk, "Sea routes of the Isles." I finished unloading the luggage, Bill threw some water over the leavings of the bald man, rubbed it with a mop, and ran the electric bilge pump for a moment while I manoeuvred the boat out to the moorings. We moored up and then rowed ashore. Bill went off to his home, while I walked up to the Centre. I was just in time to go into the meeting. I was looking particularly rough in what the other members of the staff called my boating cloths, tattered jeans, and fisherman's jersey and boots. The rather scruffy look was set off with a fairly full beard and hair which was on the long side. The Director, John, looked at me when I come in. "Ah you made it. It looked pretty bad. Pity you haven't had time to tidy up." "Tidy Up? I haven't even eaten" The man had the grace to mumble an apology. The meeting started and John introduced the staff and then the Students introduced themselves. As well as the four whom I had brought over, there were another four who were also from the same school in England. The bald man described the purpose of their visit as being curriculum preparation. The blond caught my eye and winked. Having been introduced and met the students I was able to slip away and clean my self up, shower the salt out of my hair, and dress, and became quite presentable. I then went into the Kitchen where Jack the caterer was still working, checking off the stores which had come over by container on the Car ferry. "I suppose that you are wanting fed! What's wrong with ordinary meals on a Saturday night?" I let Jack rave on, it was the same every Saturday evening when things had run behind schedule". Actually Jack had a very fine plated salad put aside for me, and we sat and talked. Eventually when I'd had my third cup of tea, and Jack had finished checking off his stores, I got up and walked out of the Kitchen door and bumped into the blond, Sarah. "I hardly recognised you." She said, "Oh I scrub up well," I replied, "Have you found everything?" "Oh yes, I'm in with Joan, who is not a happy person. I'll be able to see just when she comes in late; she and Jonathan have been at it for years. Jenny at least has suspicions which is why we are here, as the Curriculum planning meeting is now a big show rather than those two going off for a weekend." She looked up at me, "well where is the night life round here? I was just going out for a walk." "Well there is a dance Wednesday and Friday, and the Hotel serves drink, would you like one?" "That's very kind of you." "Just hang on, I'll grab my oilskin it might get cold later. As we went through the entrance hall I nipped into the staff cloakroom where we kept our wet weather gear, and picked up my oilskin. "Its quite light," Sarah said. "I was expecting it to be all dark and wet" As often happens in the Hebrides, after a daytime gale the weather improves in the evening, and as it is light until about 9.00 at that time of year it is a beautiful experience. I didn't really need the Oilskin just then, but I had my hopes of a use for it later. "Tonight is going to be a good night, there is a full moon, which will rise just after sunset." We set off for the hotel which was about half a mile away, along the seashore. It was beautiful, the setting sun illumined the hills of the Mainland and there was the peculiar light which there is in the Hebrides in the evening. God it was good to be alive. I looked at my companion. She just about came up to my shoulders, quite slim, she was still wearing her turquoise rain coat and her legs were bare. It was hard to quite work out her shape, but I had ambitions of discovering that for my self. At the Hotel we went into the Lounge. Sarah wanted a G & T -- I won a bet with my self, my second favourite was a half of lager, and I had a half and a half. As we had left our coats at the door I was able to examine her figure. She was wearing a pink coloured blouse, and a shortish denim skirt, with Dr Scholl sandals on her feet. We talked, at least Sarah did, she taught English and RE in the school had only been there for two years and came from London. Sarah was beginning to discover her way in the world. She had been disappointed about coming to the Conference centre, When the staff had talked about coming to the Islands for their conference she had wanted to go to Iona, but the rest of the staff had vetoed it as at that time Iona didn't have a pub. It only seemed a few minutes until Donald the Barman was shouting. "Time Gentlemen, Time". Sarah drank up and got up to go. "What's your hurry?" "They've just called Time" "Oh I wouldn't worry about that the nearest Policeman is in Oban, and we are not due for a visit for another month. However as you have put your drink away, and You've had a long day, I'd better escort you back to get some sleep." "Thank you very much kind sir." "We got up, collected our coats and went out into the night. It was one of those unforgettable Hebridean nights. The gale had blown itself out completely, the sky was clear, and there was a great big moon rising. The hills of the mainland were dark against the sky, but it was bright enough to be able to see all around. We set off back towards the Centre, walking together in the middle of the road. In the gloaming a night bird on the shore made a noise and we paused, looking at the sandy beach which we were passing. Sarah turned to face me, and looked up at me, she had a look in her eyes, and she placed her hand on my shoulder. I bent down and kissed her lightly on her lips. Enthusiastically she reached up, put her both arms round my neck and pressing her body against mine, kissed me long and hard, with passion, her tongue darting between her lips into my mouth. I put my arms around her and held her tight. My tongue explored her mouth and I felt her soft lips on mine. Eventually she ran out of air. "Sorry I don't know what happened there I just had to kiss you, thank you for doing it for me. That was nice." She put her arm round my waist, I put mine round her's and we set off down the road again. "This is the most heavenly place, are you in a hurry to get to bed?" Sarah asked me. "That is the perpetual story of the Islands, every morning you get up tired and resolved to get an early night, and every evening something crops up, and it doesn't work out like that. What do you want to do?" "I'd really like to go somewhere where there is a view. I've never seem such bright moonlight before." "Ya wee beauty, I know just the place, with a nice view and great privacy." I thought. We walked along the road, each of us on one side of the grass which grew along the middle of the road, until we came to a gate. I opened it and we walked across short, springy grass. The field began to slope upwards until it was quite a steep climb, and we had to help each other up the almost vertical hillside. About 50 feet up there was a ledge the remnant of an old landslip, cut into the hillside on three sides, and on the fourth there was a magnificent view across the coast of the Island, across the Sound to the hills of the mainland. I took off my oilskin which doubled very well as a groundsheet and put it down. I helped Sarah off with her coat, she sat down and I sat down beside her. We looked at the view. The moon had just cleared the hills across the sound and was still quite large and red. The moon track was broad on the sea which because of our height looked quite calm. We sat with our arms round each other simply enchanted. There is nothing like a Hebridean moon rise to bring out the romantic. I looked at Sarah in the bright moonlight and we clutched each other and kissed. I gently, slowly leaned down so that we were lying down, and began to slip my hand round her ribcage, until I could feel her bra cup. She stopped kissing and sat up. "OK, a few ground rules. I'm still a virgin, and that's how I'm staying, I'm not on the pill and I have no intention of getting pregnant. When I tell you to stop, you stop or I'll break your balls. OK?" I nodded my assent. "OK?" she demanded "OK, I'll stop when you tell me." Sarah turned to me and continued to kiss me in the same enthusiastic way that she had been before she gave the ultimatum. I continued to explore her rib cage, and played with her nipples which I could feel through the fabric of her shirt and bra. Sarah gave me the hint as she tugged at my denim shirt and the poppers which acted as buttons all opened. She ran her thumb over my nipples. I undid the buttons of her pink blouse and slipped it over her shoulders. She pulled my shirt off, only pausing when the cuffs got caught on my hands. We giggled. I then reached round her back and with well practised ease opened her bra strap, and pulled it over her arms. Her breasts lay there the araura only slightly darker then the surrounding skin. I lay down and with a hand on a shoulder licked her nipples which were rising nicely. I then licked along through her cleavage and kissed my way up the other breast until I reached the nipple which I licked and suckled. Sarah kissed the top of my head and I moved so that I was again kissing her mouth. I put my hands on her breasts again and I felt her slip her hand down to my hard erect prick. I decided to play follow my leader, and slid my hand under he skirt and slid it up her inner thigh until I came to her panties, which felt wet. I slid my finger up so that it was going past the elastic in the leg of the panties Sarah took her mouth away from mine, we had been making mouth music. "Not yet, not this time, just keep outside my knickers." So I lay there tracing the shape of her cunt, rubbing on her clitoris and pushing the already damp fabric round the mouth of her love passage while she worked enthusiastically on my prick through my jeans, rubbing and squeezing it. I don't know how long we lay there pleasuring each other, her skirt had ridden up and I could see her panties and tiny wisps of blond pubic hair coming out on either side There was a haze of fine hair along her thighs. However we were both concentrating on each other until with a cry and a shudder she came and redoubled her efforts on my prick until I came in my pants. We lay there for a while, kissing with my hands gently rubbing over her breasts. Sarah broke the silence. "What will you think of me? That was absolutely wonton." "No just moon struck, isn't it wonderful" "I've never really heard such silence. The truth is that I've never felt so sexy, this is a wonderful place." We sat in silence, and all of a sudden we noticed that is was getting cold. Sarah put on her bra and her shirt. I put on my shirt, and then we helped each other down to hill, and we waked back to the Centre. I kissed her good-night quite chastely, and went back to the staff quarters, where I had another shower to wash the cum which was drying on my stomach and sticking my Y fronts to my hairs. The next morning I happened to notice Sarah going out of the Centre grounds and with one of the staff who happened to be religious obviously going off to the Kirk. "Well," I thought, "I wonder how she will get on with Dismal Jimmy." The Island minister was a caricature of a minister who spent his time shouting at his rapidly dwindling flock because so few people went to Church, and warning a congregation which had an average age of over 60 of the dangers of the sins of the flesh. By long tradition after the Sunday lunch was an introductory lecture for the week, and also by long tradition it was given by one of the junior members of staff, while his more junior colleagues sat in the back row trying to make the lecturer laugh. The forfeit was a round for the other staff members in the pub on dance night. It just had to be me who was the lucky lecturer, but this time by concentrating on Sarah, or to be more exact on her tits I was able to give a completely straight faced lecture. There was the usual running about after the lecture while people tried to decide how they were going to spend the rest of the afternoon. Some one suggested that they should walk over to the Machair on the west side of the Island, and have a swim there. Sarah looked across the room at me and gave me a knowing look. When the party for the Machair assembled ten minutes later I was there with my swimming trunks neatly folded in very large towel. Sarah was wearing a short blue denim skirt and a sleeveless t shirt. Next Time in London Ch. 02 This story is a direct follow on from my romance, "Next time in London" where I described how I met and began to get to know Sarah. Chapter 2: In London When my Grandchildren ask me what has changed most in my life time I tell them, 'communications' In the period of this story, there was no internet, e-mail, mobile phones or faxes. Trunk dialling was far from universal, and any way not many people had a phone. Last week I was in a highland hotel, and they still had the gloomy little cubbyhole under the stairs where the Public Telephone used to reside. There isn't even a phone there now, just marks on the wall and I have no doubt if you knew what you were looking at, you could trace the history of the telephone by the various holes and wire marks. If you wanted to contact someone from somewhere like the Field Centre, it was through the old penny in the slot phone, and you had to go though the operator even to ring Oban. In those days people still communicated by writing letters, often with fountain pens. Today, by the time she had stopped for her coffee at Tyndrum, Sarah, who I had been getting to know on the island, would probably have sent me an SMS just to make sure that I remembered her. What actually happened, was that a week or two after she left the Island, Sarah sent me a thank you card simply addressed to "Euan" at the Centre. It took a few weeks to catch up with me, as I'd gone to Manchester to begin my Post Graduate course. I am the world's worst correspondent and it was a couple of weeks before I got round to replying, (no point in seeming that keen in any case). Neither of us had phones where we lived, so the communications were, initially, entirely by letter. I remember Sarah's well, they were written on a deep pink scalloped notepaper, with a pink lined envelope. We settled down to write with increasing openness, initially writing on alternative Sundays. I began to look forward to the distinctive letter being in my pigeon hole when I got into the University every other Monday if I was lucky, or Tuesday if I wasn't. After a couple of these exchanges, our letters became almost daily. I'd never carried out a courtship by correspondence before. Oh, I'd had girlfriends with whom I had corresponded before of course. With them, there was a sound foundation of experience. All we were doing was affirming a situation which already existed, much of the correspondence was to do with mutual friends, who did what to whom or said this or that, nothing like what Sarah and I were doing. With Sarah, it was different. Apart from what? four or five hours together, we had very little in common. Mind you, what a four or five hours they were! Although I had gone physically further, quicker in the past with other women and had walked away, there was something about this woman that meant I was settling down to what was in fact a rather bizarre correspondence. I could have said that it was the style of her English. And boy could Sarah could write well. I wasn't surprised some years later to discover that she had become a novelist. It was only when I read Linklater's "The Dark of Summer" that I understood why what Sarah wrote was so compelling. In "The Dark of Summer", the Hero has to take passage from Orkney to the Faroe Islands in a Naval Trawler. In the Captain's day cabin, where the hero sleeps during the voyage, there is a book case. Linklater describes it thus, "all its authors were women: Virginia Woolf, Colette, Rosamund Lehmann..." The Captain and the Hero subsequently have a conversation. "That's what I call my harem." "Do you read no authors but women?" "Not at sea," he said. "The sea has two disadvantages: it's salt, as I mentioned before, and there are no women on it. Not in war-time. So female authors are a necessity, as well as a luxury. All those books and some are a lot better than others contain a woman who's undressing herself. Oh yes, they do! Some of them only unwrap their sensibility and their intelligence, but even they give you the feeling that there's a bed behind the door. But most of them take you on a beautifully observant, roundabout walk, that might be a little bit boring if you didn't know where it was leading; but it's leading you all the time, with unfaltering purpose. The whole thing — the whole female art of novel-writing — is an exquisitely prolonged strip-tease. Have you read this one?" He threw a book on to my bed, a book that has been much admired and said, 'That's one of my favourites How wonderfully the disrobing of her sensibilities leads, at long last, to taking off her petticoats! And then what intimacy! Oh, nothing vulgar, but how her mind embraces you. And what good soap she uses. You can smell the steam in her bathroom. In reality, I expect, she would be an infernal nuisance, but in a book, at sea, she's pure enchantment.'" Well Sarah was pure enchantment. I thought that I was a bit of a wordsmith but Sarah took me for a beautifully observed roundabout walk. Building on the foundation of our time together on the Island she took us past my frequently rigid prick into areas of soft talk and being together. I heard her life story, I heard how her brother had tried to rape her when she was 14 (she was adopted), and she had successfully fought him off and knew that she could in the future. She was of course interested in the act of sex, but equally interested in making sure that it took place in a genuine situation of real intimacy. Had Linklater been writing in the 1970s rather than the late 1950s, and reflecting attitudes of a decade and a half earlier, he might have had "Silver" describe the work of female writers as an exquisitely prolonged foreplay. Certainly, through her letters, mentally my erotic zones were being touched and caressed. The correspondence took place against a complicated background. I was perfectly happy as I was in Manchester, I had picked up some very posh totty indeed. At a party in the department, I had picked up a young lady called Drusilla, who had been educated at Benenden School. While Drusilla had a boyfriend at Oxford, who was very posh as well, (I think that he was in the Bullingdon Club) Drusilla had no problem pounding the mattress with an Oik like me. Mind you, being Irish, I was exotic enough to be outside the English class system, and anyway I had gone to both a good School and University, even if I didn't have a lot of money with which to bless myself. Fortunately, right at the beginning of our relationship, we had confessed to each other that we had another in reserve. It was the most liberating experience I ever had. I must tell you about the screwing of Drusilla some other time. So here I was receiving letters from Sarah which were fast become more intimate and at the same time, I was maintaining a healthy relationship with Drusilla during the week (Most weekends she seemed to disappear off to one social engagement or another). Sadly, much later in the year, her very posh boyfriend was caught with his arse in the air on top of a less posh piece of totty at a party and Drusilla decided to call it quits. As it happened I was down stairs with a friend of Drusilla's and she really made a great fuss so that I went up stairs and filled her noble friend in. Her, by now, ex boyfriend was poured into a Taxi with a bloody nose, and the maledictions of Drusilla ringing in his ears. Talk about coitus interruptus! Sarah was making it quite clear that her virginity was going to have to be given and taken. She had told me on the Island on that glorious Sunday afternoon that I was "top of her list to take her cherry when she did decide to let go," and, "I hope to entertain you in London. These two things looked as if they were about to come together. It was not quite as simple as arranging how her deflowering was going to be done. It needed to be at both the right time and in the right place. Sarah had been brought up to wait for marriage for full penetrative sex -- though this didn't mean that she didn't allow great liberties with her body. How I looked back with prick inflating memories of how we had got to in that bay on that Sunday soixante-neuf with the hope of going further which had been dashed when a mixture of her PMT and discretion stopped play. She once wrote about this predicament, "If there isn't a dick up my hole it is all right." As the weeks went by this changed to "If I'm not going to have a husband's dick in my hole and I haven't met anyone with whom I'd contemplate spending the rest of my life with, then I want your dick in my hole." I was indeed flattered. There was the discussion on contraception; the pill or condoms, the question of where, quite literally her place or mine, one of the flats or a hotel somewhere? Because the taking of her virginity was such a momentous occasion, we needed to organise the background very carefully. Too many of her friends had lost their virginity in the atmosphere of free love and had found it a profoundly anticlimactic experience. It was her writing which gave our planning a life and expectation beyond a quick fuck. As I read her letters, I thought back to the embraces on the Island, and forward to the prospect of gently sliding my cock into her moist, warm, inviting hole. Finally, before Christmas, we had things organized: her place, the week after the New Year. New Year's Day was going to be a Saturday and during the next week the schools were off, the University was off, and Sarah's flat mates would be away for the holiday. We would have the flat to ourselves for almost a whole week. I went back to the Island for Christmas, While Christmas wasn't that big a celebration in Scotland then, there was a house party at the field centre and I was to be on the staff. Then Manchester would be a useful stopping off point on my way south. The New Year was not a big English Celebration. Of course, I hadn't the faintest idea where Sarah lived in London. Hell, I'd only been there twice in my life, so she told me that she would meet me at Watford Tube station. This amused me, for I knew that to a true Londoner like Sarah, Wogs (any foreigner) begin at Watford and in her letters to me, it had become clear that Sarah would never be happy outside the area served by the tube. To get to London, you flogged down the M6 until you came to the M1 and you went down that until you ran out of motorway. Off to the left was Watford down the A 40something. On the appointed day, eventually I found Watford High Street Underground Station. Through luck rather than good judgment I arrived at the right time and there was Sarah. Now I couldn't be sure about it but I seem to remember that she was in a chocolate coloured maxi coat and brown boots. Her blond hair hung around her shoulders from below a Cossack hat. She looked very cool and sophisticated. I swung the car in beside her. She looked at me and got in, we greeted with a kiss. Neither the deep passionate kisses which I hoped I would experience later, nor a chaste greeting, but a kiss that seemed to hint that better things were to come. I really was the rural hick. Glasgow, Manchester, they, to me, were big cities. Even with the light traffic because of the holidays I had to pay attention to the directions which Sarah was giving me, though occasionally at traffic lights we held hands for a moment and smiled at each other. In a way, the long, complicated city drive was a great way of breaking the ice and becoming comfortable with each other in each other's presence. At long last, we got there. I parked the car, grabbed my luggage, and hand in hand we walked up the garden path. When we went into the house we walked up one flight of stairs. It was typical of a house converted into flats. Sarah stopped at a door, produced a key and let us in. Briefly, she showed me round and I noted with amusement that I was being given my own room, though I was wondering just how much time I was going to spend in it. We met up in the kitchen, as Sarah was putting the kettle on for a cup of tea. She had taken off her coat and boots and was wearing a brown and cream Kaftan with small bells on it so that when she moved there was a gentle tinkling noise. I had dressed up, I was wearing cavalry twills, a Jaeger shirt, a plain tweed tie and a Harris Tweed sports coat. As the room was warm, I took off my sports coat. "That's better, the coat looked a bit prickly." "I suppose that it is, best hand made in the Islands, and all that." Resolutely I moved over, stood in front of her, took her in my arms and kissed her. She responded without much enthusiasm. "Thank God that you did something, I was getting all embarrassed, this is so different from the romantic Island," said Sarah. "Would you rather than we just went into Platonic mode? Or we could just take our time." I replied. "Not really, it's just that I've never been in this situation before. In the past I've always had a whole load of inhibitions to keep me from doing anything, but you are so dangerous. Just standing there you make me want you. And it's not curiosity only, I'm lusting for you." Sarah responded. "Well, let's solve that ma'm." I laughed, This time I gave her a real kiss. For a second I thought that it wasn't going to work, but then she threw her arms round my neck, pulled her body close to mine, and moved back slightly so that her back was against the kitchen units. As I pressed against her, with my hands roaming across her back, our lips caressed and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth. I felt her warm and tender body close to mine, my erect prick pressing into her stomach. "That's settled then, we know what we are going to do." Sarah took my hand, and led me out of the kitchen and across to the bedroom. There was a smell of joss sticks, the lighting was subdued, and the heating was turned up. I took her in my arms again and discovered that the arm holes of the Kaftan were big enough for me to get my hands in and had proved to me what I had suspected, Sarah wasn't wearing a bra. I followed the contours of her back down to her buttocks and discovered that she wasn't wearing any panties either. I knew that I wasn't going to be wearing much either soon as Sarah pulled off my tie, worked at my shirt buttons and then my trouser belt and zip. I reached down and took off my shoes and socks. Then I shook my clothes off, and taking Sarah's Kaftan I pulled it up over her head. Sarah pulled my y fronts over the top of my prick and we stood there naked. We lay down on the bed, facing each other. Yes, she was as attractive as I remembered her to be, not stunningly beautiful, but as she lay there, she was a vision of blond and tan, incredibly sexy and easy on the eye. I kissed her again and then traced the line of her jaw with my finger. I reached over with my other hand and placed my palm on her mound of Venus, the roughness of her fair pubic hair, wire like, pressing into my palm. I began to gently caress her clitoris with my finger. I moved the finger of the other hand down her neck until my hand was resting on her breast. She must have been happy with what I was doing for she followed where my hands were on her with her hands. Sarah grasped my scrotum and then brought her hand up my prick. We kissed deeply. I moved my finger down her slit until I felt her wet cunt preparing to receive me. She lay back and opened her legs. I gently rolled on top of her, one hand supporting her shoulders, the other on her buttock. My prick lay between her legs, rigid. Gently I pressed it on her body, and felt my prick move up to her hole. "Are you sure you want this?" I asked (Although God knows what would have happened if she had said no!) In response she pushed her hips forward so that my prick was on the very cusp of entering her. I reached my hand down so that I was able to guide my prick into where we both wanted it to be. I pushed gently and felt my self entering her narrow love passage. Gently I pushed in, sliding into her until I felt my public hairs mass with hers and her strong muscles grasp my prick. I pressed up on my arms so that I could focus on her face, which had a great big smile on it, and she had a bright look in her eyes. It was only then that, with more and more force that I began to pump my prick in and out. I felt her flex her muscles. I'd never deflowered a virgin before, but this recent ex virgin sure knew how to manipulate a cunt to give maximum pleasure. I could feel her muscles working on my prick. Our breathing was beginning to get laboured, I could feel the pressure on my balls, I held her ass while she stuck her finger nails into my back, I heard her moan and felt the excitement in her cunt as she came. I held on for as long as I could and then came with a shuddering ejaculation. No sooner had I come, but Sarah not only shuddered again, and seemed to get new life, wildly bucking her hips as she came a second time. "God's great gift to women, multiple orgasm," she panted. Kissing me as she locked her legs together so that I lay on top of her while my prick deflated inside her. We kissed gently and my hands sought out her breasts and I played with them, rubbing her nipples between my fingers and thumbs. I moved slightly incautiously and my prick fell out of her cunt. We giggled. Gently, Sarah pushed me off her and moved me so that I was lying on my back. My prick flopped between my legs. She rolled over onto her front and sat up with her legs folded below her, her knees were level with my hips. She reached down and picked up my prick. Then she lent down and smelt my pubic hair, rubbing my still flaccid prick with her hand. "Someone told me that cunt juice smelt different on a man than it did on a woman, mind you, it might just be the smell of your spunk as well. I'm glad that the first time we were able to do it bareback. Does the little man not want to come out to play?" She teased. My prick began to show signs of taking an interest in its surroundings. She blew on it, she rubbed my scrotum. "Oh the little man is coming out to play," she said, and began to grasp the shaft of my prick, which was still floppy. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked my prick, she played with me so that eventually my prick rose to the occasion. It stood there, hard and proud. "I know, I'll have to sit on you and see if I can keep a good man down." With that, she straddled my body and taking my prick in her hand lowered herself onto it. I could feel her sliding down my pole. She knelt there, and then she reached down and placed her hands on my shoulders "This is what I've had a fantasy about since I met you." She bent down and kissed me. I reached up and fondled her breasts. Sarah raised and lowed herself on my prick sometimes pressing on my shoulders, on other thrusts drawing her self up so that she was sitting erect on top of me with her hands behind her head. I could see the faint peach of the hairs on her body rising with the goose pimples. She slid up and down my cock. I felt my self bottom out on her cervix, and the ripples of her muscles grasping me. I quite literally lay back and felt her ride me, then, eventually as she slid down, I just let go and felt the juice pump into her. She paused in her sliding up and down, but I could feel her motion squeezing me as she came and she came, and she came and collapsed forward on top of me. "Let's get under the covers and warm up." We disengaged, and she was right, we were cold. We got under the covers and she snuggled up to me. The heat from our bodies had permeated through the bed clothes, we lay enfolded in each others arms kissing gently. The dim light of a dull London January afternoon seeped into the room through the slight gaps in the curtain. We must have dropped off, for the next thing I knew, Sarah's hand was over my scrotum, fingering my balls, it must have been this which woke me. The light around the window had turned to yellow from the street lights, as well as fucking, we had been sleeping together. Next Time in London Ch. 02 "I've just been looking at you, and building up an appetite. I'm hungry, and we're going to have our dinner, but first..." She rubbed her hand up my prick, which was hard and erect. "There is no point in letting that go to waste." She lay back. "We must really get past the missionary position, but it will do this time" and pulled me on top of her. I slipped inside her, there was no need to guide myself in as it seemed that my prick and her cunt knew that they were made for each other. The bed resumed its age-old gyration as I slid out and in of what was now her well-lubricated love passage. We kissed, I put my head below the bedclothes and searched out her nipples with my mouth. As we thrust with our hips I greedily sucked and lightly chewed her nipples with my lips. She put her hands on my head grasping my hair and directing where I kissed her body, until we came together in a bed-shaking climax. I came up for air, we lay there in each other's arms kissing for a few minutes. Suddenly, Sarah pushed me away, threw the bedclothes off and jumped up "Come on, I'm starving." She went over to a drawer opened it and pulled out underclothes. She bent over and pulled on her knickers, then put on her bra. I got off the bed and dressed, while Sarah did the same. We kissed when we were dressed "We're going to the Bernie Inn, it's absolutely the place to go, and it's just round the corner. We can't go anywhere else. It is dark enough for you to be able to grope me so that we are all geared up for this evening's entertainment when we get back." We left the room, put on our overcoats, then Sarah led me down the stairs and out into the cold London night. Next Time in London The path from the Centre to the Machair ran across the centre of the Island, through a small glen, and across a heathery moor. Half way across there was a side glen which took one not to the sandy Machair but to a much more rocky part of the coast line which was distinguished by a small very private beach in which I had been introduced to the delights of carnal pleasure during my first visit to the Island. Well we would see. For some reason Sarah seemed to find the going across the path a bit hard, and she dropped behind the party. Being a gentleman I dropped behind the party to make sure she was all right. What was wrong was that her Dr Scholl's were wrong for the terrain, and she walked much easier when she took them off, though what had caused the trouble was a piece of heather had jammed itself between two of her toes causing her real discomfort. I was interesting that her colleagues didn't really pay much attention to her, and by the time we had sorted her feet out they had gone out of sight. "Do you want to push on and catch up with them?" I asked "Well what is the alternative?" Sarah replied with just a touch of archness in her voice. "Well we could always do a bit of exploration." "I really wanted a swim." "I know a lovely wee beach which is a bit closer to here than the Machair and we could go there." So we set off towards the new destination. "It's lovely" Sarah gasped It was a mini bay, not much wider than a double bed but, by the wrack which lay about half way down the bay, above normal high time mark. We were standing on the top of mini cliffs, perhaps 10 feet high. If you hadn't known it was there it would have been quite difficult to find it. The bay faced south west, it was warm, and it was private. The sand was dry, and warm, a white mixture of sand and broken shell. Today the tide was coming in and I know from experience that the water would be, though still cold, a lot warmer than the water which Sarah's Colleagues and the rest would be "Enjoying" at the other end of the Machair. I helped Sarah down the sloping ledge which was the only access. When she got down the cliff she turned and kissed me. "Why is it when I am alone with you I feel so wonton?" I didn't reply, just kissed her again, pressing on top of her as she leant against the quite hot rock wall. "OK, who's for a swim,?" she turned away, took off her cloths and ran into the water. I watched the naked brown body running down into the sea. There was something funny about it. It was all the one shade of brown there was no panty line, no mark on her back where her bra would have been worn. I threw off my cloths and ran down the beach after here and even though I was expecting it, I still flinched when I was hit by the cock shrinking scrotum wrinkling cold Atlantic water. I flopped down in the water. Sarah who was a bit further out with the water just lapping under her breasts turned. "You never warned me that it is this cold!" "You never asked." "I think that I've had my swim for the minute" and having dipped below the water, she emerged with a splutter and with a shake of her head tied to clear her hair of water. She then ran up the beach and with a shake, laid the two towels beside each other. I followed up the beach after her, very conscious of the shrunken state of my prick, which was barley peeping out through my pubic hair. Sarah looked down and inspected the shrunken member. "I see one advantage of being here, you are safe for a while and if you get to dangerous all I have to do is send you into the sea again." With this she reached up, put her arms round my neck and energetically kissed me. The she slipped her arm down my back and pressing my bum pushed me against her. I felt my deflated prick push into her damp cold pubic hair, I slipped my hand down her back and grasped her by her love shelf, squeezing her buttocks. I opened my eyes and saw the drops of water still on her goosepimply back. By mutual consent we lay down together on our sides. I looked at Sarah. I took in her blond hair, darkened and turned into rat's tails by the sea. I saw her blue eyes, and her light all over tan. Her fair pubic hair trimmed to just cover the lower part of her torso. "How come you've this wonderful all over tan?" I asked her. "That's simple," she replied, "I'm a naturist." "You're a what?" I spluttered, "I'm a naturist, you know, you probably call it a nudist." She trolled over on her back and put her hands behind her head. The results were quite spectacular. "I enjoy being naked, it makes me feel real". To my knowledge, I'd never met a nudist before, certainly not a practicing one, and I was silent. The effects of the water were beginning to wear off, I had feeling in my prick again, so I rolled on my back and watched it slowly inflate. I could see Sarah watching. "Is this not a problem?" I said, vaguely pointing to me now fully erect pick. "Surprisingly enough no, you occasionally get a man with an erection, but not often, and you are going to deal with that, because you have only kissed me once today and I want a good snog, and I don't want you to put it anywhere we'd regret." "If you're so keen on your body and snogging why are you so keen to stay a Virgin?" "That my dear is something which I may tell you some day, now go and jump in the sea." I did as I was told. When I came back up the beach Sarah, who was sitting up, had combed her hair, which was now back to its blond colour, and hung down in waves to her shoulders. Her breasts stood proud, her nipples hard and erect. I walked up, got down on my knees placed my hands on her shoulders and kissed her long and lingeringly on her lips. Sarah pulled me down beside her and broke the kiss. "Now you'll do me no harm." And then with great enthusiasm she kissed me long and hard. Our tongues met, and the effects of my swim swiftly began to disappear. "God, you are randy" "You can't keep a good man down". "Well we might as well make the most of it". She broke the clinch rolled over, got on her knees, and placed her hand on my balls, and my cock energetically began to really respond, she bent over and blew gently on the top of my cock. "That's why this is called a blow job" then she began to lick the tip of my clock, and gently rubbed her hand up and down my shaft. I placed a hand on one of her breasts, my other one I worked between her legs, feeling the wiriness of her pubic hair. I moved my fingers up and felt for her clit, then as I rubbed it with my thumb, I parted her labia and felt for her love hole with my middle finger, then I slowly slid my fingerer into its warm smoothness, as I pushed in and felt for her g spot I felt her muscles contract and I also felt her suck what felt like the whole length of my cock into her throat. Then, without breaking rhythm, she lifted one leg off the ground and moved so that she had a leg on either side of my head, and we were in the classic soixante neuf position. I felt her lips being replaced on my cock as she cupped my balls in her hand and gently began to nibble my glans, then gently close her lips and suck my prick further into her mouth. In the meantime, I finished inspecting her cunt, the pink slit, surrounded by a halo of blond hair. I wrapped my arms round her legs, smoothed her labia back so that her vulva was open and I could see its parts. It was far better than any line drawing in a book. At the bottom was the small pink protuberance of her clitoris, I raised my head and began to lick it, her hips began to buck and I slipped my thumb into her love hole just to steady her. I felt her wetness and saw the love juice flow out. Experimentally I licked it and tasted the strange salty vanilla flavour of cunt. I traced the inside of her lips up to her hole and slipped my tongue into it. As her hips moved, so her mouth got more and more excited I came in what I can only describe as a ball emptying, prick clearing shot of pure spunk, which I could feel her greedily drink. We maintained the position too satiated to even move, and lay there for what seemed like ages. Sarah had let my flaccid cock out of her mouth but was playing with my balls. Slowly she sat up, almost using my tongue as a hinge, then she turned round and sat on my stomach. Almost automatically I reached up and grasped her breasts. I messaged her nipples as they expanded, and I felt her hand rubbing the skin on my stomach as she played with her clitoris. She smiled down at me. "You don't have to go the full way, if you really know what you are doing." Then as I played with her tits she brought herself to a shuddering climax on her clitoris. "See?" Then, taking me by the hand, she led me down into the sea where she washed my cock and my pubic hair while I washed her tits. She then ran up the sand put on her skirt (though not, I noticed her knickers), put on her bra, and pulled on her t shirt. She put her arms round my neck and kissed me. "I hope that you weren't too disappointed with what you got there, and please know that you are at the top of my list to take my cherry when I do decide to let go." Then she led me out of the bay and we walked hand in hand back across the Island. Just before we came to the Centre, she stopped and put on her knickers. "Don't worry if I'm not as free with you for the rest of the week, I think that my Curse is going to start soon and I'm a right moody bitch then, but we'll keep in touch. I hope to entertain you in London." So it was that for the rest of the week while Sarah even flirted with me, she was very adroit at keeping me at arms length, as the party from the school very much acted as a group on their own. It was only as we loaded the kit onto the boat on the Saturday morning that Sarah came up to me and handed me an envelope. " Here are my contact details if you want to build on it. You were very good, but I couldn't give my colleagues any gossip and if we have kept on I'd have screwed you across a table somewhere." The boat took us across to the other side, I helped Sarah onto the jetty. "Next time in my territory" She turned and walked up the jetty without even looking back. The next time is a new story.