My Last Night In Scotland
- 3 years ago
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My Last Night In Scotland free porn video
It was a cold blustery evening in remote Inverness, the cultural capital of the Scottish Highlands. It was my last night here before moving on and I’d just finished eating dinner at a local pub. I figured that as this would be my last night in Scotland, I wanted something to remember it by, and what better way than with a traditional Scottish kilt? I certainly didn’t have trouble finding a shop. Basically, every second shop along the main street sold every manner of Scottish souvenirs and clothing.
I chose one of the larger shops I knew to be just around the corner from where I was staying. After reluctantly leaving the warmth of the pub, I headed out into the icy cool breeze and made my way up the cobblestoned laneway out into the main street. It was still fairly early in the evening, so locals and tourists alike were still roaming the streets shopping or making their way home from work as the sun was beginning to set.
I walked into the large brightly lit shop and out of the cool breeze. There were only a handful of customers in the shop. I made my way down to the back of the shop where the kilts hung. There were hundreds of them, all lining the back wall, four rows high.
After seeing the exorbitant prices of these, I moved back towards the center of the shop where there was a rack of cheaper kilts, and what I assumed were of lesser quality. I found a couple of patterns and colours that I liked and after picking out my size, made my way to the changeroom. I found the small changing room in the far back corner of the store.
After some time, I decided on a black utility-style kilt and a white shirt. I took them up to the front of the shop and handed them over to the man standing behind the counter. He was an older man, maybe in his early forties, with jet black hair, but was starting to bald on top and wore a beard. I assumed he was the owner of the store.
He asked in a very strong accent if I needed any help. I asked him if he had a belt that might go with my new outfit. He led me down one side of the shop where there was a range of leather belts and asked me to choose a belt buckle to go with it. He also went and got me some black woolen socks with a red dragon on the side. After making my choice, he suggested that I try the whole outfit on with everything together to see how it all looked. I agreed and he led me to the small change room.
I walked in and to my slight surprise, he walked in behind me and pulled the curtain closed. I proceeded to change out of my jacket and shirt and put on the new one. Then I undid my jeans and slid them off and as I did, he grabbed the kilt that I had purchased and knelt down on the floor in front of me and helped me into it. This, of course, isn’t the first time I’ve had someone help me get dressed, but certainly the first time in a long while.
I felt a little awkward being almost half-naked in front of a complete stranger, but figured he’d be used to it working in a clothing store. I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a kilt, but basically, it’s a skirt that wraps around your body and overlaps on itself at the front. It has an internal strap on the left side and an external strap on the right where you secure the overlapping section. Fairly straight forward and a one-person job. But I guess you couldn’t fault his customer service skills.
He then placed the belt and buckle on and then the helped me into the socks. He then looked up at me and mumbled something that I didn’t quite catch and before I knew what was happening, he had his hands up the kilt and started pulling at my shirt from the inside in an attempt to make it look like it was tucked in. As he was doing this, he was explaining that it was difficult to tuck your shirt in once the kilt was on and fastened and that pulling it down like this was the only way.
Thinking about this now, I’m not sure if that is truly the case, but at the time I was a little too preoccupied with having a stranger’s cold hands roaming around, far to close to my junk. On several occasions, I could feel his arm brush my cock. I was glad I chose to wear underwear this morning.
Once he was happy that I looked presentable, he stood up and asked me to follow him out to have a look in the mirror. As we were walking out of the changing room something caught my eye. I looked down at the shop owner's pants and noticed he had a clear bulge going on down there. I wasn’t sure what to make of this and the next thing I knew I was standing in front of a six-foot-tall mirror leaning against a dark green couch with a round tartan rug laid out on the floor.
The shop owner complimented me on how good I looked. He walked over to the back wall where the top quality (and out of my price range) kilts were hanging and picked up a similar black kilt with a silk cross-hatched pattern in it and suggested I try this on. I said to him that I could not afford this one.
He insisted that if I liked it, he would give it to me for the same price as the one that I was currently wearing. Well, I couldn’t turn down that bargain. He apologised and said that he had to go serve some customers that were lined up at the front counter and that he would return shortly to see how I was getting on.
I made my way back to the change room and tried on the new kilt. It certainly looked and felt a lot better quality. After changing, I made my way back to the mirror and was checking it out when the owner returned, again apologising and saying how he was the only one working tonight. He introduced himself as George and we got talking about where I was from and what I was doing up here in the highlands and if I was enjoying myself.
Directing our conversation back to the new kilt I had on, he explained how this was the best quality of kilt you can buy. It was then that he explained how most Scottish people don’t wear anything underneath when they wear kilts. Suggested to me that I should go and take off my underwear so that I could, “truly appreciate the quality and the feel of the material.”
I thought about this for a second, but then thought, hell, why not. So back into the change room I went, and George again followed me in. But before I could do or say anything, he’d closed the curtain behind us and was down on his knees again with his hands up my kilt and starting to pull down my underwear. I was speechless, helping me into clothes is one thing, but removing my underwear…that was a bit much.
But he was right, instantly I felt so much more comfortable and feeling the kilt against my bare skin was amazing. But George wasn’t finished. He put my underwear onto the chair in the corner, then had his hands back up there in an attempt to again pull my shirt down. Only this time… I was butt naked down there. Admittedly, his hands were a bit warmer this time, but I didn’t know what to do or say. His hands brushed past my dick more times than I thought was necessary and each time he’d mumble a little apology.
I wasn’t sure how I completely felt about all this. But….when in Rome….or Scotland, as the case was. We made our way back out to the store.
“How does that feel now, good?” he asked.
“Yeah, really nice actually.”
“Oh, excuse me, will you? Be right back, just need to serve this customer,” he said as he indicated to a woman standing near the front counter. “Feel free to pick out a sporran, I think you would look great with one.”
He pointed to a shelf nearby with a large range of sporrans and chains. As he made his way to the counter, I was left to look around, not unaware of the fact that I was wearing nothing under my kilt. I have to admit, it felt good, and a little naughty walking around a shop with people everywhere, knowing that I had nothing on under my kilt.
I picked out a black fur sporran with a silver chain and having no idea how to fit it, waited for George to return. When he did, again apologising, he helped me fit it to my belt and adjusted it until the sporran sat centrally on the front of the kilt. I had to admit, I looked pretty dapper. George picked out another style kilt, this one was your typical red tartan style. “Try this one on so you can compare the different styles.”
So it was back to the change room yet again. He removed the sporran for me and then helped me remove the belt and then my kilt. All too aware that this time I was not actually wearing any underwear. Luckily, however, the shirt was long enough that it covered things up. He wrapped the new kilt around me and fastened it and then as before, slipped his hands up to pull my shirt down.
Again, I could feel his hands moving around my body gently brushing against my arse and then around to the front where several times he would brush up against my cock. Occasionally, his hand would go between my cock and balls. By this time, I was starting to feel less nervous and my cock was starting to react to his touch more than before. I’m sure he could feel that I had gotten harder since the last time, especially when he went to pull his hands back out and brushed against it.
By now I was starting to put two and two together, with the excessive brushing up against my junk and the semi I could see him getting in his pants… my mate George here wasn’t straight. I knew nothing about him, though I could see he was wearing a wedding ring. Whether or not he was married to a man or a woman, I had no idea. Nor did it really matter, I was curious to see how far this would go, so I played along.
At first, I took his actions to be simply good customer service, but now I realized that it was more than that. If he was in a straight marriage, then perhaps he’d never done anything like this with another man before and if that was the case, I didn’t want to do anything to direct and scare him off. On the other hand, maybe he was in a gay relationship and had done this kind of thing before, in which case I didn’t want to play dumb for too long and make him think that I didn’t want this... well, whatever this was.
We got talking a bit more and I mentioned that I had just recently broken up with my boyfriend. I wanted him to know that I was, A, single, and B, very much into guys. He had no reaction to this. Whether it was because of our accents and he didn’t quite understand me, or he was just preoccupied with other things, it was hard to know where this was going, if anywhere at all. But I was enjoying myself and the possibilities.
It was getting quite late, I had no idea how long I’d been here for. George went to serve the last of the customers and then locked the doors and put up the ‘Closed’ sign. It was just him and I now. No more interruptions.
“I’m sorry if I’m keeping you, I’m sure you have to get home.”
"No, no, not at all,” he said, picking up another kilt for me to try on.
He got me to try on about three other different coloured kilts to see what I preferred. Each time he would help me in and out of them and each time he’d get his hands up there and pull my shirt down and each time he’d touch me in his little discreet ways.
Standing there in front of the mirror in a purple and green tartan kilt and my white shirt, an idea popped into my head. I said to George, “What do you think about a black shirt with this kilt.”
As I expected, he was all too eager with the idea. Making our way back to the change room, not bothering to close the curtain now that we were the only two in the shop and we were blocked from the front shop windows from the shelves. He removed my white shirt and helped me with the black one.
Of course, this now had to be completely tucked into the kilt, now didn’t it? So on to his knees, George got and his hands went up. My heart was beating faster than normal, just as it had been all night, but the blood was also flowing a lot faster… in a downwards direction.
I could feel myself getting harder. Harder than I had been all night. He started at my back, poking his fingers up out of my kilt and pulling my shirt down with them. This caused his face to be so close to my crotch that my semi-hard cock was touching his cheek. I was pulsing at the thought of him just lifting up the kilt then and there and taking me in his mouth. It would have been so easy. And I certainly would not have stopped him.
His hands slowly moved around to my front and with just the front of the shirt left to be tucked in, his hands moved and touched my cock. Instantly I pulsed. Surely he felt it. He apologised and slipped his fingers up my front to grab my shirt. All the while I could feel his arm against my cock, which was no doubt dripping with precum by now. He took longer than usual to pull the front of the shirt down, paying particular attention to it to ensure it looked right.
Just grab my cock already and go to town on it, I thought to myself. It was driving me crazy. Eventually, he pulled away and helped me with the belt and other accessories. The whole outfit looked great. He got me some matching tartan flashes (small fishtailed ribbons connected to an elastic band that wraps around the top of the socks) to complete the look.
DAMN, did I look good! Even George was smiling, though now that I think back, he was probably thinking about the fact I’d need to get undressed eventually, and after finally deciding on what I wanted, that is exactly what we did. Making our way back to the changeroom he undid my sporran and belt. Then he pulled my shirt off me.
Finally, he again knelt down and unfastened my kilt. The nerves were coming back. He’d only ever felt my cock. He hadn’t actually seen it yet. I had no idea what was about to happen. Maybe nothing, maybe he’d just help me get dressed in my clothes and I’d go up and pay for the items and I’d be on my way.
As the kilt fell away, I found myself standing there in nothing but socks and flashes in front of a man who I hardly knew, on his knees staring at my now hard cock. He looked up at me, and then started telling me a story.
A story about how when the men used to return from battle, “and their wives would help undress them and they would take one of the flashes,” as he was telling me this strange story, he undid one of the flashes from my sock, “and they would place it around the man’s penis like this,” which is exactly what he did, wrapping the elastic band around the base of my cock and balls just like a cock ring and then spread the two fishtailed ends of the ribbons apart so that they fell either side of my hard member.
"Then they would stroke him just like this,” and there he was, my cock in his hand slowly stroking it.
He was still staring at me with those dark coloured eyes and then, in that moment, he took me in his mouth. Ooohhh, my. It felt amazing. I’d waited so long to finally feel his warm wet mouth on my cock. He sucked me as one hand massaged my balls and the other hand grabbed my arse and pulled me closer to him.
He took all of me and held it there. I grabbed the back of his head and made sure he took every last inch of me and held him there until he couldn’t take anymore and pulled away. Saliva dripping down his beard and onto the floor. He continued to take me, I was moaning, my knees felt weak and shook.
Eventually, he stopped and stood up, “hang on, I’m just going to go and turn out the lights.” I waited a short time for him to return. Thinking to myself as I was waiting, is this really happening right now?
He quickly returned and guided me out to the couch that was in the middle of the store. The store was now dark, the only light coming from the streetlights outside. If someone was to look in, they might very well get a show. I sat down on the couch and George got on his knees and took me again.
“Oh fuck, yes,” I moaned as he took all of me. It felt amazing. My question had been answered though, this guy knew how to suck cock. This most certainly wasn’t his first time. I grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head revealing a muscular hairy chest. I ran my hand through his hair and grabbed one of his nipples and lightly pinched it.
I wanted to taste him. I motioned for him to stand and I grabbed at his cock now clearly straining his pants, I pulled them down revealing a nice thick cock. A bit shorter than me but tasted amazing as I took him. I sucked and licked and moved my tongue over the head of his cock. After a short time, he pulled away saying that he was close. I was a little disappointed and not getting more, but knew I’d get my chance.
He went back down on me. Stroking me at the same time as he sucked me. I could feel his saliva dripping down my shaft and off my balls to the floor. He was moaning, I was moaning. Fuck, it was hot. Eventually it all got too much and I told him I was close. He quickened his pace, I couldn’t hold it any longer.
“OMG, I’m cumming, FUCK!” I blew load after load into his mouth. I could see him struggling but like a true gentleman he swallowed it all, every last drop. My balls had truly been drained.
But now it was my turn. He stood up on the couch with his hard dick directly in my face and I took him. I instantly tasted his sweet juicy precum on my tongue. I took him just like he had me. He was moaning as I deepthroated him, as I played with his balls as I reached up into his hairy chest and grabbed his nipple, lightly pinching it. It didn’t take long and he was ready to blow.
I pulled out and jerked him off, then he moaned loudly, and he shot his hot white cum all over my chest. I continued to stroke him even after the last drop came out and then licked the head clean. He tasted great.
He jumped down off the couch and directed me to a side door where the toilet was and, dripping with his cum and my sweat, I went and cleaned up. After getting dressed, I took my items up to the front counter to pay for them. He gave the lot to me for nothing.
“No, please, it’s on the house.”
“Oh, cheers mate, thanks very much.”
And with that I walked out the door and into the cool night, most satisfied with the customer service I received, and with what was a very fitting end to my last night in Scotland.
Dottie
- 30.09.2022
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