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Another hot summer’s day and as always Petey my faithful 2-year-old English Mastiff was excited to go for his daily swim in one of the irrigation ponds on a 500-acre farm in our small town. Petey at 180 always looked forward to cooling off by wading in the ponds, and today being over 90 degrees he was especially ready. Being so hot and humid, Petey was very prone to overheating, so I decided to walk along the edge of the tree farm to where the nearest pond was.

The pond backed off of a large old farmhouse perched on a hilltop: (the type of place that I as a kid would try and avoid) It was well off the beaten path, most of the wind-stripped shutters were falling off the windows. The house was partially hidden behind sparsely leaved oak trees; having grown old well beyond their prime, their crippled limbs eerily creaked with each gust of wind.
As we approached the pond I let Petey off his leash and predictably he immediately sauntered in and plunked himself down into the water. As is his custom, he started “grazing” on the Duckweed floating on top. I sat down and watched him splash around and frolic in the pond trying to catch any bug that was large and close enough to warrant his attention: I loved watching his sluggish attempts at this, most times the bug would win but that didn’t keep Petey from trying, what a dope!

Suddenly, a yelping bark came from the house on the hill, Petey immediately froze with muzzle wrinkling, trying to catch a whiff of the source. His head anxiously cocked toward the sound, with his tail curling up like the top of a soft-serve ice cream cone.

“Staaaaaay,” I warned. Damn! Too late! Petey was off like a shot, uncharacteristically running at high speed up the hill.

“Shit,” I thought to myself; the last thing I wanted to do was negotiate my way through that jungle to retrieve him, even at 42 years of age I wasn’t too keen on trespassing onto this creepy property.

I reluctantly trudged through the tall grass of the hill leading up to the home; negotiating through a regiment of spindly overgrown shrubbery, their spiny tentacles grabbing constantly at my jeans and shirt, making it a much more harrowing ordeal than it did for Petey. A good 5 minutes passed before I entered the vast, relatively trimmed front yard: I wasn’t overly surprised to see it littered with junk; old window frames, rusting appliances and other refuse, being slowly consumed by the grass the mower clumsily left behind, was strewn all over the place.

A short and sturdy older woman was struggling to keep her excited Doberman from approaching Petey, who was now conveniently just out of reach. Being the Ass he was; Petey lay on the stomach and tormented the poor animal by leisurely stretching out his paws, only inches away from the snarling Pinscher’s gnarling teeth at the business end of his 20 ft lead;

The woman was feverishly tugging on the cable, desperate to pull her excited dog toward her, it was obvious her dog was overpowering her… she was running out of steam.

“Soooory!” I hollered, picking up the pace to help out this poor woman.

Between laboured breaths she was finally able to pant out;

“Is ‘e friendlay?”

Hurriedly I snapped on Petey’s leash, pulling him to a less intrusive distance away;

“Oh Petey, No worries, he’s a big suck! A bit of an ass mind you, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“What’s your boy’s name?” I asked;

“Shamus, ‘es a bit protective of meh, it may not be a guid idea to let him off his lead. E’s a bit of a rogue; ‘es had it out with the dog down the road way too many times.” She blew out, seemingly with her last breath.

“Awww, he looks harmless enough.” I crouched down and let Shamus sniff my hand, his stubby tail started wagging as I started petting and rubbing him under his chin.

“Brave Lad,” she smirked, maintaining her iron grip on Shamus’ lead. Petey started submissively rolling on his back with all fours upward and limp.

“See, Biiiiig Suck,” it’s embarrassing really.” I quipped looking up at her, tugging on the leash trying to get Petey to sit up and be a man;

“Let’s see if they can get along, I suggested, and then slowly led Petey toward Shamus. They began with a timid Mexican stand-off; with both tails pointed at attention, they slowly nosed in closer to each other taking in each other’s scent. Shamus started growling, posturing dominance so Petey obediently backed off and wagged his tail. Having acknowledged this Shamus slowly relaxed and the raised hair on his back returned to its natural position, I knew then, that they’d be OK with each other.

Seeing that the dogs were getting along the woman slowly relaxed her grip and crouched down to speak to her dog, I couldn’t help but take at peek her cleavage;

“Noow, you be a guid boy and PLAY NICE” she commanded, finally freeing Shamus from his tether…

Her sturdy 5’2″ frame straightened up, an older woman probably somewhere in her mid 50’s, her face although a bit worn and sweaty was ‘handsomely’ peeking from underneath her wide-brimmed hat. Her bright green eyes were piercing and obvious, easily managing to upstage the thick pattern of reddish brown flecks that heavily stained the ghostly white of her face. She was wearing a sleeveless tank top; which nowhere near covered her sunburned chest and shoulders, nor did it hide the bright orange tufts of thick hair growing out from under her arms. Her large and cone shaped breasts, highlighted by nice semi-erect nipples were unhampered by a bra and set neatly over a slight belly. Her belly didn’t appear flabby, but it did protrude outward, thanks to a nicely arched back. Her waist was not small but flowed into a very wide pelvis, making it appear to be tiny; accentuating an almost cartoonish-curvy look.

She bent over momentarily, inspecting a crocus that managed to grow between the weeds. The light sun dress that initially fell slightly above her knees was being stretched shorter by thickly saddle-bagged hips, and now failed to completely hide her deliciously plump butt. The apparent firmness of her ass cheeks quickly faded into pale opulent thighs, somewhat flabby and deliciously pocked with shallow dimples of cellulite. Her skin stretched firm again as it surrounded a nice pair of stoutly-thick calves, which squeezed into a small pair army boots, seemingly too small to prop up her wide and sumptuous frame.

Standing back up, the woman momentarily removed her straw sunhat, revealing tightly crimped and fading red hair, its mid shoulder length framed a stern and ruddy, yet virtually unwrinkled face. She reminded me of an old hippy that had spent too much time in a van trying to find herself, as it was obvious she was making no attempt to keep nature from taking its course.

“A’m fair puckled.” She giggled; “Been trying to make a silk purse out of this sow’s ear of a garden all mornin’, then your wee coo of a dog comes along, heating meh up an’ exciting my Shamus. To wit, dae Ah owe th’ pleasure?”

I nervously laughed; having visited Scotland many times I recognised the accent and dialect immediately;

“You wouldn’t happen to be a Scottish Las would ya, Glasgow perhaps”? I asked facetiously,

“Aye, Glasgae,” she confirmed, arching her back placing her hand on her hip in pride;

“What’s it to ye?” She challenged, giving me a full up and down check out, unimpressed, her stare quickly dismissed me with a feigned look of disgust;

“You are NOT from Glasgae.” She gave me a look – making me feel I wasn’t worth her time.

“Tough town” I knowingly nodded.

The women looked over at the dogs; Petey had his nose in Shamus’s butt which remained there for an awkward amount of time;

“Aye can be,” she breathed, then added;

“Yer boy Petey there wouldn’t last a day there be’avin like that.”

Slightly embarrassed I moved between the dogs desperate to break a tenacious Petey away from Shamus’s backside, having little success, I could only manage an uncomfortable chuckle, and then a feeble verbal attempt to try to lighten the mood;

“I think humans could learn a lesson from dogs, maybe we would all get along better if we would greet each other their way; rather than with just a simple handshake.”
My face reddened, given that we only just met, I realised how overly familiar that statement must’ve sounded. I extended my hand to her, in an attempt to recover;

“My apologies, my name is Bill, I hope a handshake will do!”

Demurely turning her head toward the frolicking dogs, the woman studied them as they chased each other and teared around her yard. Finally, she responded, putting my nervous anxiety at ease;

“No apology needed, there might be something to it, look how well they’re getting on now.”

She extended her uniquely pale and peppered with dark freckles arm out to me;

“Guid tae meet ye William, m’name’s Katherine but you may call meh Kate, Aye – a handshake will dae fer now.” she added with a nervous giggle.

Being a big fan of freckles, I proceeded with the standard small talk;

“Hot day.”
.
Kate lifted up her hat and wiped some sweat from her brow with her hand, then unceremoniously flicked it to the ground;

“Aye ’tis at that, for the life of my Ah cannae git used tae it, Ah dinnae ken howfur ye Canadians put up with the humidity, look and meh, A’m gey sweaty… care for a pint William?”

I attempted to impress her with my rendition of a Scottish accent;

“Aye, Ah cuid uise a heavy, but please… call me Bill.”

Kate lilted; “Oooh very guid ‘William’, sounds lik’ yer familiar with our Scootlund, have ye been?”

Having accomplished my mission to impress her, I smiled smugly;

“I have, many times, I love it there! As a matter of fact, and Glasgow was a favourite stop of mine.”

Kate smiled and looked me straight in the eye;

“Well then, there may be hope for ye yet.”

She then turned her attention to the dogs, and placed her thumb and index finger between her lips, producing a sharp whistle; within seconds Shamus came bounding around the house, Petey not far behind, they obediently sat next to her, tails wagging.

“Guid boys, Guid boys,” Kate sang out, giving them a rough scratch chin. To my horror, a big glop of Petey’s slobber drooled onto Kate’s hand – Not swayed in the very least, Kate simply shook it off, and wiped whatever was left off with her skirt, then got right back to business: I was beginning to like this woman!

“Right, let’s get yehs a nice cool drink of water then.” She spoke to them as if she expected them to fully understand, then with a wave of her hand she commanded;

“Get yehs to the barn where it’s nice and cool, Goo on noow!” Shamus instantly started trotting to the barn, Petey in tow.

“Come along William.” She instructed; using the same tone on me that she used on the dogs.

Man, she was a spitfire; all 3 of us obediently complied without a single hint of protest, this woman was in control! Well, she sure knew how to handle us ‘boys’ anyway. I was immediately attracted to this woman, not only because I’m a sucker for freckles and a Scottish accent, but also by her shy, yet saucy confidence. Her aloofness and for the fact that she seemed completely at ease with herself – despite meeting a male stranger in such a dishevelled state, gave me the impression that she could take men or leave them – perhaps she was married for too long, or preferred the company of women.

Regardless, I was intrigued by her ‘Glasgow charm’; whatever her status was I couldn’t help but be titillated sexually. Winning her over, if only in friendship (at worst) would still provide me quite a challenge! I was really looking forward to digging in and finding what made this unique woman tick.

Dogs put away, my eyes were fixed on Kate’s generous backside, as we started back toward the house. Her every step caused each cheek to lift the hem of her skirt, the sheer fabric flowed up and down, jiggling along in unison by the fleshiness underneath. By the time we got to the door, I was practically salivating and needless to say there was significant activity going on in my pants!

We entered the house and the first thing I noticed was the clutter. By no means am I a neat freak, but I was somewhat aghast by the chaos.

The decor was that the 70’s with a paint job to match, accentuated by the heat it had that old house smell. Many improvements were started but none finished, it had about the same decorum of the yard outside.

“Mind the Mess.” Kate chirped, “A’m quite certain the kitchen’s around here somewhere.”

I followed her through the maze of boxes and entered into an unorganised yet relatively clean kitchen. On top of black and white checkerboard tile was classic tubular chrome white with red metal flake laminate table. The chairs; with their fire engine red vinyl upholstery flecked with silver, matched the exact set I ate cereal on as a boy. The fridge was another classic, a round edged Kelvinator complete with a buzzing overly-loud compressor. I had almost the same model in my garage; put out to pasture long ago to store and cool my beer – WOW the memories! The cupboards were painted white over 1950’s contractor grade wood with chrome knobs. I felt like I was in a soda shop in some kind of Norman Rockwell painting commissioned by my Mom.

Wasting no time Kate tugged on the handle and opened the Kelvinator’s sticky old door, Yup – it had to be the twin sister of the one in my garage. She bent down spreading her legs slightly apart, her light dress again raised this time almost climbing halfway up deliciously wide and prominent butt. Instinctively I adjusted my neck downward to sneak a look: Bright red panties strained to appear between her thick thighs, a hint of red-orange hair peeked out of the sides, it was obvious that her bikini line had not seen a razor in months, and to my delight, shorter and curlier hair ran from them into the back of her thighs, then thickened over her calves and into her boots – Awesome!!

“Ah keep the good stuff in the crisper.”

She grabbed a couple of bottles and suddenly turned; ” ‘Ere we goo,”

I quickly straightened up, but I knew it was too late for her not to notice;

“See anything interesting down there William?” She smirked.

Shamelessly I lied;

“Umm, I was admiring this table; my parent’s had one just like it… You know: Retro- geeks would pay big bucks for this set.” I bent down again in another useless effort to mask my deceit;

“Even still has the original rubber feet stoppers – NICE!”

“Well that’s a shame, for a moment there Ah thought ye wur stealin’ a keek at mah bahookie, are ye willing tae make meh an offer William?”

I stammered not quite knowing what she meant; “Eh, Excuse me?”

She turned and grabbed the bottle opener from the side of the Kelvinator expertly popping open the bottles without even looking, she slowly walked toward me then leaned her freckled face into mine;

“Are ye willing tae make meh an offer?” She paused looking straight through me with her luminous green eyes, along with her pursing her lips it was clear that she enjoyed watching me squirm;

“Well I, hmm”… (I had nothing.)

She slyly smiled; ” Yer none tae bright are ye? Fer the table, ye dope. A’m in the process of clearing out some of this ol’ junk, so A’m askin’ are ye willing to make meh an offer fer it?”

“Oh,” I nervously laughed, relieved;

“Oh no…no I’m no retro-geek – besides, I know better than try to get a good deal outta a Scot, that kind of negotiation would outta my league, and that’s saying something given my Dutch heritage.” I woefully admitted.

“Dutch, Aye, well, if not only fer that – ye may have given meh a good run on a deal!” Her face tightened; “But we all know Ah would ‘ave left ye mooch lighter in the end.” Kate’s face loosened as her finger poked sternly into my chest;

“Sooo, yer a dyke plugger! Wooden shoes, wooden head, WOODEN LISTEN!” She snorted, slapping my shoulder, quite proud of her barb; (Like I haven’t heard that one before.) In my standard smart- assed fashion, I could not allow such an insult without rebuttal;

“Well, I’ve heard many married Scottish women have plugged a few dykes in their time, no doubt to pass the time while their husbands take comfort from tending the sheep.”

A sobering shock of anxiety suddenly pierced through me; that was a tad boorish even from a lug like me. I could feel my ball sack harden and my penis retracting deeply into its foreskin in embarrassment. Kate let out a belly laugh, thankfully un-phased, and then chuckled;

“A cannae argie that, there’s triple the sheep than women in Scootlund and all!!

We both laughed heartily at that, it was funny because it was true as flocks of sheep still freely roam everywhere throughout much of rural Scotland.

Over drinks we continued our conversation, I learned that she was 52, and raised by her father in a small hamlet on the Isle of Skye. She left home at age 17 and made do by taking odd jobs, then by tending bar in several working class Glasgow pubs. She moved here 5 years ago to take care of her Father, who suffered from later stage Alzheimer’s. He eventually passed away 2 years ago leaving her the sprawling 150-year-old house on 6 acres of land. She paused, her sedate manner now moved to that of frustration;

“Ah dinnae ken where to start, the place is in sooch a state, frankly A’m a bit overwhelmed…” She looked down at the table, her first crack of vulnerability emerged. I tried to be supportive;

“I’ve been to a few Glasgow pubs in my time, surely you’ve dealt with a big mess or two, and I’m sure a spirited gal like as yourself could manage. Just take it one step at a time. Besides, if you need help I’m sure you can wrangle up a man or two who can use a hammer and help.”

Kate lit up, her previously contained fiery side made a grand entrance;

“Pugggh! Yer aff yer heid! All the men Ah know would rather swing a bottle of whisky than a hammer! Look at meh mahn, A’m a pure nick – haven’t had a proper wash up in over a week, what mahn would give me a second look.”

Looking uneasy she nervously started picking at her nails, it seemed obvious that she opened up a little more than she wanted to.

“My Dah was all Ah had…and Ah him,” she solemnly whispered, then quickly straightened up in her chair, I couldn’t help being distracted by the hard nipples that pressed against her shirt, and felt only mildly ashamed for it.

“Aaugh look at me boring ye with meh life’s story,” she brightened up her demeanour, flipped her hair and folded her hands on the table then asked;

“Soo you say you’ve been Scootlund, wit pray tell brought ye there.”

“Sorry about your Dad, both business and pleasure,” I responded, then explained to her that I was a marketing executive/broker for a large liquor store chain and have visited many distilleries throughout Scotland and Europe, my job involved extensive testing and sampling wares in the guise of due diligence.

I further explained that being a history buff, I especially enjoyed the slam-bang rich history and castles of Scotland, so I vacationed and travelled her homeland all over: Through the Highlands, Orkneys, Inverness, Edinborough;

“I especially love Scotch so, naturally I have tippled a few whiskies and witnessed a few good old fashioned bar fights in Glasgow.”

Kate interrupted, straightening up exultantly in her chair;

“W’ur kent fer that ye know!” Oh aye, A’ve thrown many whisky soaked men out in meh time; an’ as fer the dugs putting the moves any of the th’ gals or meh, to wit – boot to their arse …then off they went awaaay… back to their wives!”

“I bet you ran the place with an iron fist.” I laughed, charmed by her tough ‘lady-like’ exuberance.

“Aye, iron fist mostly, boot at times with a velvet glove, depending on the amount of drink involved. Once they understood that A’d have none of it, they behaved as gentlemen soon enough… All men are dugs, boot with a wee bit of training and some gentle persuasion, most can become guid an’ loyal dugs.”

Kate threw out a long, almost seductive look, her eyes once again penetrated through me, then they looked me up and down again; this time with boldness that begged me to notice;

“Ah prefer dugs of the four-legged type, loyalty is then guaranteed. Old Shamus is actu’ly Shamus the 5th.” She then broke her gaze – dismissing me like used Kleenex.

“I’m not entirely sure but I think I have just been insulted.” I chuckled then lifted my beer;

“To Shamus 5, and to the Scots, may Kate live long to boot arse first and live to negotiate later.”

Kate let out a rather untoward chortle and clinked my beer;

“AYE! Boot, actu’ly we are a peaceful lot at heart, an’ we are willing to negotiate…th’ trouble only starts if terms dinnae go our way – entirely that is….CHEERS!” She nodded her head exuberantly, and then threw back the rest of her beer slamming it down; I followed suit basking in the camaraderie.

There were now 4 empties on the table and we were both loosening up a bit; Kate’s street demeanour was now explained; on her own at 17, and tending the bars of Glasgow (at best) would be a bumpy ride. It all fell into place; it wasn’t the least bit hard for me to picture Kate throwing unruly men twice her size out of ‘her’ bar, especially if they became fresh with her. I was fascinated by this woman, no doubt being predominantly raised by her Father, she grew up a Tomboy and used those skills successfully handle herself.

Kate got up and went back to the Kelvinator;

“Last two, what is one tae do?” Kate announced snapping the heavy door shut with a flick her hip, empty handed;

“Sooh, ye like whisky do ye, Ah may have a wee bottle around here somewhere…Wid ye lik’ a dram?”

“You may twist my arm on that.” I eagerly accepted. Kate went to the cupboard grabbed a bottle and a couple of glasses, she carried all in one hand and plunked them on the table, I instantly recognised the label and picked the bottle up, bewildered;

“That’s an unopened bottle of 44 year Speyside, you can’t be serious!”

“Sorry ’tis all Ah can manage at th’ moment” She lilted.

“That’s a $5000.00 bottle of Scotch – at least!” I almost shouted.

Kate corrected me;

“3500-pound actu’ly – to some,” she winked, then added;

“Boot ye don’t tend bar fer over 25 years without making a friend or two.”

“Wow! I would love to know what you did to get that,” I prodded.

Kate got up and drew her finger down my cheek, and teased;

“That William is none o’ yer business.”Right, let’s open this.”

“Really, I couldn’t,” I protested – but only to appear polite;

“Why waste a fine whisky on a virtual stranger?”

Darling Kate shot me a look of disgust, making it clear that had insulted her. She paused and placed her hand on her chin as if deep in thought, finally she resigned;

“Yer right, We dinnae ken each other overly well, boot that can be remedied easily enough.” Her face exuded a seductive seriousness as her kush- green eyes locked into mine. Not surprisingly ‘Point blank Kate’ made the first move;

“So tell meh William, would ye like tae know me better?” Her directness slightly knocked me off balance;

“I…Well…I suppose I wouldn’t be sat here drinking all your beer if I didn’t.” Kate laughed, amused by my nervous stammer;

“Indeed, only here fer the beer eh? No big surprise, given meh craggy state. Now stand up an’ let meh have a keek at ye then,” she commanded, her tone was that of a scolding headmistress.

I complied, knocking the chair over as I stood, Kate rolled her eyes as she stood back, again those eyes looked me carefully up and down, she then raised her hand waving it in a twirling motion;

“Now turn around ye Plonker, let’s see if yer worth mah time”

She certainly was direct, and I liked it, I liked it enough that I could feel a tightening pressure build in my pants. Kate’s her rank scent thickened, telling me she was coming in closer. Although I didn’t mind the natural smell of a woman I wasn’t used to it so initially, I was mildly repulsed by its overpowering and stark muskiness. I did enjoy being unable to see her movements, however, as it initiated a curious anticipation of what was to happen next.

At 6′ 2″ I had 12″ on her, so even standing up her nose could only reach me mid-back; just below my shoulders. Her small hands slid under my shirt and struggled to wrap around me; being broad and at 210 lbs, it was little wonder, however, her small fingers did manage a fairly comprehensive exploration; as they lightly brushed through the hair covering my chest and torso. Kate slowly squatted down, running her hands over my hips then down to my thighs then – without warning and with a familiarity that caused me to flinch; she cupped my package through my jeans. With a gentle tweak to my groin, Kate breathed softly and then ran her hands back across my belly.

“Ooo, it has to be said yer a furry dug William, the question is: Are ye an able an’ furry dug.”

I started to tremble a bit, hoping she wouldn’t notice my nervousness as her fingers began to fumble with the button on my jeans. I placed my hand on hers for a moment, feeling that I was being graded like a piece of beef, then quickly came to my senses and helped her by pulling my zipper down. My pants quickly fell down to my ankles. Kate snickered, having realised I was riding commando;

“Dead brilliant!” Kate exclaimed, approving of my lack of underwear; “William ye ARE a true Scot at heart, there may be some hope to this an’ all.”

She placed each of her hands on my ass cheeks and then moved to my inner thighs indicating to me to spread my legs. I opened up as much as my crumpled jeans would allow, as her hands ran over my calves, her nose lightly touched small of my back then tracked down and over my ass crack. I stepped back, more-so in surprise than protest;

“Bear oop now William, A’m not gonna bite ye,”

Her nose was so close I could feel her light sniffing as it slowly moved down my now goose-bumped ass. I felt a discernible shake in Kate’s hands as she lightly touched my inner thighs – Surely she wasn’t nervous too? I felt her hair hit my shaved scrotum, her sniffs light and short, dotted up my balls, her chin brushing between my thighs. Her nose fell to rest at the back of my manscaped sack; I felt her tongue barely tipping at them, causing me to quake;

“Ooo, what ‘ave we here, bare baws, my aren’t ye th’ prissy laddie.” She cooed, then inhaled deeply and rested there for what seemed to be forever. She then softly blew, her hot breath gently exhaled over my scrotum instantly pulling it up, my cock however answered with a semi-full salute.

“Not exactly a fresh laddie tho, but who am Ah to say!” Kate giggled then ran her flattened hand back up my belly, and to my chest; “A’ll wager a good one tho, sit yersel back doon William.”

Before turning around; I bent over to pull up my jeans, hoping to conceal my thickened cock, WAACK! A sharp slap instantly stung my buttock.

“Nooo, leave the trousers on the floor, an’ while at it, th’ shirt can goo too.”

Having liked been scolded into stripping down, I kept my back to her as I disrobed, so excited that I had trouble unbuttoning my shirt. Her strong aroma was now wafting into the room carrying with it an odd sensuality that I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. My growing cock knew what the turn-on was, however; the muskiness may have been overly strong, but as far as my dick was concerned; it was definitively female, compelling my brain bound to be obedient to Kate’s commands.

I finally turned, too distracted to fully remove my pants and shoes I fumbled for the chair and started pulling it up to the table; Kate grabbed the chair and turned it sideways to the table, her wide cleavage drawing in my eyes. What was she up to now?

Kate patted the cushion of the chair;

“Go on noo… Sit doon.”

I must’ve looked like a real winner scuffling toward the chair, jeans still around my ankles, hiding my stiff cock under my hands. Dutifully I sat down, feeling as though I was waiting on the bench outside the principal’s office in my middle school.

Kate’s ass cheeks wobbled as she turned around, her skirt twisted, fighting to follow the large orbs that now settled only inches from my half opened jaw. She lifted her skirt, revealing her bright red panties, long orange hairs were peeking out the elastic buried deep into the fleshiness of her groin.

“Allow meh tae introduce masell.”

I froze squeamish, although I half knew what to do, I was not absolutely sure. Her head turned so she could see my discomfort, and with an impish grin she patted her ass;

“Go on Big Mahn, to it!” She then sniffed loudly to throw me a hint I shouldn’t have needed.

I put my hands on her fleshy saddle bags and brought my nose towards her ass, I didn’t need to sniff hard, the multitude of tangy smells that flowed from her slapped into my face with a tantalisingly thick aquatic reek. The heady smell of sweat and urine emanated viciously from her genitals – yet stiffened my cock to an all-time high, defying all logic. I brushed my nose slowly up and down the panties wedged deeply into her crack, and as I got closer I could see a dark line of faeces staining them as they opened to cover her expansive crotch. Smelling her crusty shit made it quite a feat for me to want to move in closer for a closer look, but the reward was well worth it; her panties were also soiled a thick line of eggnog shaded dried cum, with noticeable wetness feeding the smear for future growth. I was very happy not to be the only one leaking from the experience, and ecstatic that Kate seemed to be getting off on it too. She had guts, that’s for sure, putting that mess on display without a hint of shame.

I became oddly motivated to push my nose more deeply into her panties, the reek of stale urine heavied, and now combined with her fermenting anal and vaginal secretions, it released a kick similar to that of leftover Gouda cheese sweating out in the sun. It was so sharp that despite my craving for a stronger hit, and efforts to be tactful, I couldn’t help to gag a little.

Without a hint of sensible warning, I imagined that she was a bitch in heat and I was the dirty dog sniffing at her in preparation to knot her, making sure she couldn’t pull away. Her hygiene was medieval at best, so why was it was attracting me in a most primitive way? My brain was telling me to stop, but my achingly stiff cock continued me to go on.

I buried my face into the squishy softness of her vulva and inhaled deeply, taking a direct full frontal assault of the alluring stench into my sinuses. Unfortunately, I wasn’t completely prepared for the ferocity of the attack and involuntarily gagged again, hoping my repugnance was not loud enough for ‘the enemy’ to notice.

“Ye had enough then?” Kate giggled, then quickly stood up, looking down at me like an ant;

“Fer a moment Ah could’ve sworn that ye were enjoying th’ weather down there!”

She turned away and tries to provocatively step out of her dress, unfortunately, her boots got tangled up in it, causing her to wobble when she impatiently bent down to release it. She stumbled back, her soft ass again threatened to hit full me with another dose of her muggy scent. I instinctively recoiled upward to protect myself, and in doing so, my cock was now able to fully extend, which was the first thing Kate eyed as she regained her balance and turned around.

“Oh my sorry ’bout that.” Her eyes fixed on my 8″ fully erect package and teased;

“Ooo, keek at that! Full mast and all. Joost as Ah suspected, Ye dae lik’ if greasy ‘n’ ripe – Sooch a dirty boy!

“Thanks to Jesus he’s a big ‘n’ fat one too!”She playfully flicked at my piece, her eyes remained fixed on my embarrassed (and now quickly) shrinking rod as she sat down;

“Right! now that we have been properly introduced, William – you may open up the bottle.”

With that, she suddenly stood up and left the room. I was only half believing what just occurred; my fingers struggled to cork the bottle. She was all over the place – little seemed to govern her candidness of both speech and actions. And I, well… I was having trouble believing how much I wanted the rancidness of her hairy cunt in my mouth. I was pretty content with the well groomed and fresh clams I have eaten in the past, but for reasons unknown, to me, I was helplessly fixated on Kate’s woeful and body-wide lack of hygiene. Now knowing she was neither married or solely lesbian, and the fact that she left me so unbalanced and curious; I had no choice to fight the urge to draw myself into her ‘foreign’ world further.

I listened to her bumping through the boxes and going up the stairs. The floorboards creaked; she was clearly rummaging around for something. I had just finished carefully pouring a shot into each glass when Kate came down with what seemed to look like a hung skirt under dry cleaning plastic. She looked down on me and started to laugh in a way that shrunk me into my chair;

”This wull nae do, not by a mile.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval while shaking her head.

I was confused, what won’t do? I looked down at my now flaccid cock; could that be was the cause for her disappointment?

She giggled and pointed to my jeans, still rolled up at my ankles;

“Ye look like a right young school laddie waiting fer the switch… Put this on, mah dowie laddie.”

Grabbing the garment from the table, she removed the wrap and produced a crisply pleated kilt and handed it to me.

“It was mah Dah’s, are ye mahn enough to wear it? At least then Ah can pretend that yer a proper Scootsmahn – if ye can somehow manage.”

“I am, and will do with honour.” I placed my hand on her cheek before taking dressing acknowledging the significance. She seemed uncomfortable with my sign of affection and quickly sat down. As I began removing my shoes to finally rid my ankles from my crumpled pants, Kate eyed the drinks I had poured, snorted, then grabbed the bottle and tripled the portions as if the rare libation was a cheap department store brand rot-gut. Satisfied she slid one over to me, then raised her glass, and threw me a cheeky wink;

“Bottoms up then” Her eyes never left mine as she took a gulp of the aged smooth single malt, I followed suit, slightly shaking my head as the fumes overwhelmed my sensitive pallet. I meant no disrespect, I just haven’t had a hit of scotch for ages, the first gulp would be the hardest;

“Smooth” I gasped. “So how does it look?” standing while thrusting my hips towards her showing of my pleat action;

“Aye, ’tis at that,” Kate agreed; “Ah truly believe all real men should wear a proper kilt when sipping on a fine whisky.” She raised her glass again;

“To a proper Jimmy; wearing a proper a kilt, sharing a proper whisky – with a proper by half wifie.” She toasted then drained the rest of the glass without a flinch. I laughed then raised my glass back;

“And to you Kate, a half proper Las, sharing her RIGHT proper bahookie, with a seemingly proper Jimmy – having totally improper thoughts.”

I suavely took a sip of the rare whisky, I could now savour the flavour, the fumes failed to dilute the odorous scent that had now fully permeated the room. We carried on talking all but naked for over an hour, discussing different versions of Scottish history, often getting into spirited discussions on which of our versions were more historically accurate. The Scotch was dealing out its inevitable effect, as we were getting a tad tipsy, very rowdy and totally animated. Aggressively we started to argue, trying to convince each other of our opinions;

“Kate really, everyone knows: The Bruce was a momma’s boy pussy! He simply ate from the table Wallace set for him!” I announced slightly slurring my words. Kate got up, raised her hand and gave me a swift slap to the head… I had zero time to defend myself.

“Thar wull be nae bad-mouthing the Bruce in my ‘ouse!” She challenged; “Wallace, Auggh, one hit wonder if you ask me!” She hissed.

I stood up and felt like a giant towering over this spirited woman, and then countered;

“I’m not asking for your opinion – The Bruce was up the King’s ass before Wallace stepped in, that’s the truth of it.”

A now obviously tipsy Kate almost jumped out of her boots, winding up to cold-cock me again;

“Prepare yersel fer a bollocking!” She cried, then wound up to let fly, but I grabbed her arm and strong-armed her cheek into the table, twisting her, attacking arm behind her back. I leaned into her ear and whispered ominously;

“Robert the Bruce was a Pansy!” Now say it Kate, be a good gal and say The Bruce was a Pansy! Then -and only then, will I consider letting you go.”

Kate started to buck trying to kick me below the kilt I backed up but kept my full weight over her, her reddening face and cheek remained glued to the table;

“Cannae and WILLNAE!” She defiantly yelped, let meh up – YE TOSSER!”

Being a ‘David and Goliath’ mismatch, I opted to show her mercy; “Promise to be a good girl then…” I offered, only slightly loosening my grip.

Kate was in no mood to back down;

“A make nae promises,” OOF NOOW!” she spat, making another feeble attempt at my nads with her little boots.

“To be clear, I do so only because I CHOOSE it” I growled, vexing her. Eventually, I felt safe enough to release her, but not before licking my finger and sticking it in her ear, to further peeve her off.

Kate not pleased, stood up red faced, pulling at her tank top and straightening her hair then wiping my stink from her ear. She puffed up then poked her index finger into my chest, sweat dripping down her neck, and then her eyes fixed on mine;

“It has to be said, William, if that’s the best ye can do, it leaves meh sorely disappointed – YE NOOK!!”

With that she then delivered one last poke to my sternum, showing me her back as she feigned disgust as and turned, I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She tried to slap me again but I stopped her easily as her small arms were no match for mine. I fought my lips towards hers as she continued to writhe in protest.

“A’d rather winch a coo’s arse!” She defiantly spat out.

“Moooo, Mooooooooah! I pestered, like a 5-year-old; “Who’s the disappointment now?”

I gruffly pushed her arms back forcing me into her closer. She broke her arms from my grasp, once free, her resigning demeanour took the lead as reached out and gently grabbed my face, squishing my cheeks;

“Big bad Mahn…beatin’ on an ole lady!” Her look of disgust although false still felt like a punch to the face;

“Sorry ’bout that, how else can I be of service.”

She smiled softly, her tiny hands slowly reduced their grip, one actually lightly stroked my left cheek. With both hands, she held on to and steadied my head. I could see the hesitation in her eyes, but with a resigning sigh, she started to guide her mouth to mine. I opened up to accept her.

Her tongue entered me, in no time her hands moved to the back of my neck roughly pulling it into her to probe me deeper. She hungrily swirled and danced her tongue over my teeth and gums, which relentlessly pushed into me deeper, trying to reach my throat. We slobbered over each other, non-stop for over 10 minutes, breaking only to catch a gasp of air. I swabbed her face hungrily mixing our saltiness into our saliva; she was voraciously doing the same, tonguing me and tiptoeing to nip at my ears. My balls were aching, my cock smashing up against my kilt. Finally, we forced ourselves to stop, I hated having to do that, but I was literally breathless.

Equally worn, Kate straightened up, her sticky top rolled under her breasts, now looking like a wet sports bra. Her breasts looked firmer now, much younger than their years; even when sadistically caged in by the thin fabric of her shirt her large, hard nipples were standing up proud and beautiful. Beads of sweat glistened from the insulating hair under her pits, her tussled tank top was now completely soaked, clearly couldn’t keep up with the heavy flow perspiration.

“Oooo Aye, she panted collecting herself,” waving her hand to cool her face;

“A think that calls for another drink, Wheeew!”

She poured another scotch from the emptying bottle and drank it down in one shot, then walked over to the cupboard below the sink. I shamefully fixated on the magnificent shimmy of her ass – yet again.

Now, what is she up to? Surely it wasn’t another bottle of Scotch if so there would be no doubt she could drink me under the table.

“I like you, Kate,” I slurred out as she produced an old porcelain basin and sea sponge.

“Do ye now William, are ye sure it’s not only meh bahookie you like?”

I looked up pouring the last of the scotch into my glass.

“No, you, and yes your lovely bahookie too.”

Kate placed the basin into the sink, the tap squeaked as the water drained into it.

“Yer oot your face,” she scorned.

“No argument there,” I agreed.

“A’m right filthy, surely t’is th’ whisky doing the talking,” she added;

“I like your stink, whisky or no” I blurted, not thinking the crass wording entirely through. Kate smirked almost approvingly and looked down at her disgraced panties, snapping the waistband.

“Oooo dae ye noo, well, aren’t ye a clatty laddie.” She took the basin out of the sink, grabbed a tea towel, then looked at the empty bottle on the table.

“Daft, Droonk and Dirty,” her eyes squinting; “Ah think a prize like ye should be tossed home to yer wife.”

“No wife, just Petey – so, for now, you’re stuck with me.”

Kate smiled; “Guid.”

She picked up the basin placed it on the table, her eyes were studying me as if she was sizing my honesty up, trying to be demure she smiled again, giving me an assuring pat on the head. Seductively she began to slowly pull her shirt up, but being so damp her shirt remained stuck under her breasts. She struggled to lift it up and over and quickly became frustrated. She contorted herself in almost every way possible before it relented and was slapped angrily to the floor. I tried very hard not to laugh but one ended up coming out through my nose with an unflattering snork.

Out came Kate’s finger again;

“Yoo shut yer gob, or ye’ll feel this! She pointed to the back of her hand and then demonstrated by comically cocking her arm and backhanding it through the air. I put my arms up and waved my hands in surrender as her breast’s made their first naked appearance.

“They’re very lovely” I offered.

“Sooch the sweet talker, aren’t ye.” She looked down at them and placed her hands beneath, and then lifted them up slightly, squeezing them together. Her demeanour was as girl-like as the breasts between her hands;

“Ye really think so?”

She stood in front of me; her tits were very much my liking, her scorched red skin paled between spread firm cleavage. Even though full, their conical shape pushed more away from her chest than down, barely avoiding contact with her belly. They were beautifully dotted with her trademark dark freckles, which faded and disappeared altogether mid-breast, revealing firm and translucent orbs. A web of veins fed her large areolas darkening the tips only by shade or two. They were capped by hard and alert pale pink nipples, about the size of those mini-marshmallows that make your hot chocolate such a joy to drink.

“I do, in fact, they’re bahookie lovely,” I answered truthfully, adding an confirming nod.

Kate smiled, letting her breasts back down to perch above her belly. Her stomach was roundish and firm, smooth, and starkly white, probably shaped that way due to being well nourished by a ‘few’ pints over the years. It seemed to suit her, complimenting her lower end which was extremely disproportionate to the relatively firm upper. Her hips were very broad, all her excess weight seemed to settle around her hips and thighs; orange peeled skin sporadically dotted almost all the way down to her knees, unable to smooth over the areas where the fat congealed most. I found this particularly fetching, having to quell a sudden and nagging urge to shove my face between them!

By far, Kate was the largest woman that I had been this close too, and I was beginning to realise that I was missing out on something good. What really caught my eye was that fuzzy thick line of bright orange, that fell out of her navel and disappeared into her waistband. For a guy who liked hirsute women, (the hairier the better), Kate was a not only a rarity – but a 10 in that regard.

Kate took the basin and pushed the table away, she squatted own in front of me placing the basin down on the floor. The tart scent that impregnated my nose was not repulsive now, but seductively sexy… Perhaps the scotch had burned out my senses – more likely my desire intensified by the presence of her nice set of tits… All I knew now was the closer she got to me the more soiled with pre-cum poor Dah’s kilt became.

My feet hit the warm water and felt nice, despite the urge to pee that came over me! The beer was long overdue to be recycled, good thing I was hard or things could have gone ugly.

“Tell me William, other than mah fine arse, what more, t’is it that ye like?” she asked, knowingly putting me on the spot;

“Well, I like the fact that you don’t fish for compliments like the younger girls,” I dryly responded.

She stopped her washing – my foot abruptly dropped into basin, her voice went up an octave, maybe two;

“OH YER SOO clever, well let meh tell ya soomthin’! EH, BIG MAHN – any bloutered bastard can tell meh he likes meh, ya…” She picked up my foot and lightly swabbed it with the sponge then flirtatiously softened her tone;

“But if he can convince meh, well then maybe Ah could find him some of mah time”.

I took my time to respond, stalling my thoughts on purpose; I liked her fire and wanted her to steam a little;

“Hmm let me think” What do I like about Kate, hmm… how much time do I have to think about it?”

“Oooo, Trust meh little mahn, not mooch,” She playfully scolded, so I teasingly threw out a couple of my more of my less than shallow thoughts;

“I like your accent for one, and oh ya, and your freckles.”

Kate cracked a faint smile; “Pathetic n’ weak… but go on!”

“I like your spunk, and the fact that you are open and can directly communicate candidly without really caring about being judged one way or another.”

“Now yer joost being daft!” She then shot me another wicked smile; “Ye ‘aven’t even tasted meh spunk yet.”

“See that’s precisely what I mean, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, you don’t load me up with false airs, I find it both beguiling and refreshingly unique. Quite frankly most women I meet bore me, they doll up like a department store mannequins, making me wait only to present themselves without a hair outta place. Then they open their mouths spewing out predictable politically correct drabble, being safe, trying to say what they think I may want to hear.”

I was on one of my infamous rolls; talking to her in the same manner as I would speaking to an old bud;

“It’s infuriatingly wearing – Squeaky clean, politically correct, no individuality, just another one of the herd, God I’ve really come to hate that,” I added with a sneer;

“Wouldn’t it be nice to throw away what society has programmed us to be, what’s acceptable, no peer pressure or judgment, to be free to be and do whatever we feel like, not having to worry about what the rest feel appropriate? – Embrace the freedom, I say!”

“Well William that certainly was a far cry from the ‘Ah like yer tatties too’ Ah was expecting – it has to be said, A’m duly impressed!”

“Oh did I forget to mention your tits, they suit me just fine as does the rest of the way you’re put together.”

Kate shot me a piercing sneer…

“OK, now yer really having meh on! Oh aye, sooo put together,” she spouted out sarcastically;

“A’m not stoopid William, Ah known A’m full dowdy… perhaps it’s your heid that needs a soakin’.” Kate looked down at herself then back up to me, her eyes suggested she wanted to believe me;

“I’m serious; you’re a very desirable woman. You look – and dare I say – smell as a woman should and you don’t seem to be bothered by it. It seems to come naturally to you, which gives you a sexy self-assurance that’s very dignified and seductive.”

“Go over!” Dae ye honestly think A’m that gullible? A’m as furry an’ smell worse than th’ sheep comforting the men in the fields – that makes meh sexy ya?” Dignified right – right, mah ruddy arse!”

I strongly interjected, then lifted up my kilt; hoping that my hard-on was all that was needed to convince her;

“I’m dead serious Kate!” I think there’s a certain individuality and eroticism to it, don’t you? I sunk my eyes into hers and after a pregnant pause, I covered up my stiff cock with the kilt then suggested;

“I think you do.” I tilted my head to strain a confirmation from her. Kate broke our glance, and looked into the basin;

“Now soak em fer awhile,” she whispered then got up and slowly walked to the fridge. She grabbed the last of the beer, and then stumbled a bit on return, using the table to regain her balance… She handed me the bottle – and placed the other one between her breasts;

“This heat will be the death of meh,” she moved in so close I could see the bumps on her areolas rise and nipples harden as she rubbed the cold bottle over her them.

“Never this hot in Scotland.” she teased, unfortunately, she couldn’t fully see my reaction, thanks to Dah’s kilt, it was hot alright!

She sighed then took a gulp of the beer, set it on the floor and squatted back down; my eyes couldn’t help but glare at her hard nipples tipping the paleness of her tits. Her demeanour supported my feeling that she got the gist, and agreed with what I was trying to say.

Her hands began to caress my feet, she stroked my instep and scrubbed my heel with her palm, I closed my eyes as the cooling water washed up to my ankles. Her chubby fingers began to work carefully between each of my toes, causing me to flinch so violently that I almost kicked her in the face. My feet are very ticklish and sensitive, rarely – if ever have I let any woman near my feet. Kate took it in stride and continued with her washing, humming a familiar Scottish tune.

She lifted my feet from the basin and gave a gentle kiss the top of each, a sweet smirk appeared on her face;

“Ye know William; it’s an old Scot custom fer a Lady tae wash a man’s feet before asking him tae bed”. She then applied pressure with her thumb on my instep causing another involuntary twitch, causing her to giggle.

“Really, I haven’t heard of that one.” I gasped, now lifting my feet from the basin, unable to take any more.

Kate gently put them back in and continued, ignoring my obvious discomfort;

“Well, noow ye have,” her soft sexy Scottish lilt almost made me blow the load building up in my balls.

“Bear up now, almost done.” Both her thumbs were now massaging my insteps. I felt a warm tingle cascade through my legs and soothing my now throbbing balls, I could feel a spurt of pre-cum leaving the burning head of my cock, despite being chafed raw from the wool of Dah’s kilt.

“Ahh,” I groaned in delight, Kate smiled;

“Really? Hmm, Ah think ye’ve had enough.” She reached back for the towel and lifted my feet from the basin. She took great care drying them off, and then kissed each of them again before allowing them back onto the floor, I let out a sigh, and half glad it was all over.

“Coomalong noo William, and bring yer beer – it’s hot as the devil’s bullocks up there.”

Kate offered me her hand to help in leading me through the maze of junk that littered the steep stairs leaving a narrow path that (in our state) was a feat to negotiate. I slipped and slid down a couple stairs, taking a few items down with me, almost taking Kate down as well. Thankfully she still had some of her wits and made no attempt at trying to save me – releasing my hand at the first sign of trouble. I looked up, to ‘army boot’ level and began to laugh;

“I think the war is over, ever take those things off?” She looked cute clad in only panties and her heavy boots; I stumbled back to my feet, trying to regain some dignity.

“Aye, once A’m up these stairs, safer that way you noo.” She replied matter- of – factly.

“Point taken,” I grunted, standing up to continue the harrowing journey upward.

Down the hallway led up to a large room in the back of the house. I was pleasantly surprised: It was beautiful: perfectly exuding the era in which it was built. The room was loaded with antique bedroom furniture in original condition, narrow and gleaming honey-pine floorboards with a large, old oval thick eastern carpet. Atop was al king size bed supported by beautiful ivory coloured wrought iron head and foot rails.

The mattress was covered with plush lace pillows and crisp white linen. The floor and ceiling were framed by original moulding, the baseboards in a tasteful bone with 14 inches high anchoring the light grey walls. Thick, ornate moulding lined a beautifully plastered white ceiling which expressed the workmanship of the day. The oversized French doors were slightly open, leading out to a large deck that overlooked a wooded “jungle” below. Lace sheers were gently blowing inward and fuelled the room with a welcoming breeze. However it was still at least 10 degrees hotter than the floor below, but a far cry less chaotic in respect to the decor.

“It’s lovely,” I stated.

“My Dah managed to finish it, mah last piece of home,” She sighed and walked out to the deck, her back to me, she stretched out her arms, and rested her hands on the rail, trying to expose as much of her body to the cool fresh breeze as possible. She began rolling her head as if she had a crick in her neck and tilted her head into her shoulder, and then unexpectedly jerked up;

“Oy, what a reek!” she gasped,” she tilted her head to the other shoulder and teasingly took another sniff for confirmation;

“Oy, Aaugh, flies to shite, meh oxters are hummin’.” William, would ye mind? Ah, need to freshen up.”

Her inflexion suggested that she was only testing me, she had no intention of freshening up, and it was nothing more than a transparent attempt to discredit my ‘I like your stink’ claim.

“As a matter of fact, I do mind.” Tersely calling her bluff, not giving her the opportunity to protest. I walked up and placed my hands around her waist and placed my lips on the nape of her neck, gently sucking the saltiness of her sweat into my mouth. Kate relaxed and tilted her head back to provide easier access; I gently sunk my teeth into her, her body momentarily stiffened as light moans escaped from her lips.

“Mmmm feels so nice, boot go harder,” She breathed, I bit into her as hard as I dared, a louder moan came out.

“Harder” she whispered, stretching her neck even more.

Her soft ass began to roll into me, prodding me on. Her hands tightened their grip onto the rail, her breathing (as mine) became more voluntary and laboured. I began to suck on her neck like a lamprey, and then broke my hold to flick my tongue over and into her ear. Now totally uninhibited I started to wildly chew on her lobe, Kate giggled and tried to cover up by turning and squinching her head into her neck. I roughly corrected her by pulling her hair, then continued to chew her raw lobe even harder. Kate gave in and relaxed as I moved to tongue her hot saliferous neck savouring it’s swarthiness along the way, insatiably lapping up the film behind her other ear. Its waxy taste drove me to an almost primitive fervour. I sank my teeth into her neck with a savagery that convinced me I went too far. Kate yelped in pain but, had no intention of pushing me away, instead, she stretched, sacrificing her neck fully to me.

Her steady moaning egging me on, I bit in harder, deeply sucking in the salty skin. Kate moved in closer and released her grip on the rail and turned facing me. Her hand pushed my head back into her neck, I bit her even harder and applied full suction. Kate’s hand pressured me in even more directly, this woman was thriving on the pain!

“YES! Harder, GO HARDER,” Kate hissed angrily;

I continued until the musky scent of her exposed underarm hit my nose beaconing me in. I released my grip, broken blood vessels produced a large purple-red welt between my teeth marks. Kate relaxed her grip on my head blowing out a sigh of relief. I began to nuzzle my nose under her shoulder breathing in the gamy essence of her sudorific pit. I stuck my tongue over the matted hairs flicking at them lightly at first, then kissing then gently, pressing my lips more directly as the in harder sampling a taste they’re vile bawdiness. Kate seemed delighted that it was now confirmed I meant what I said, she lifted her arm in encouragement and quietly moaned;

“Guid boy” Eat mah mingin’ oxter! Tastes guid ya?”

The fierce aroma and taste radiating from such a hairy pit, forced a primal urge for me to clean her. I roughly kissed then ravenously tongued into it. Eventually, her moans got me so worked up I pressed my tongue in hard, vigorously lapping at her almost as heartily as Petey (in the way most men can only dream of) did while licking himself! My tongue broadened, applying more pressure to my swiping, then I used my teeth to pull and comb her hair, digging out the sweaty sebum from the root. I couldn’t stop until every particle of her skank impregnated my tongue, and salivated its way down my throat.

Kate continued moaning softly, her other hand left the rail to rub her pussy. I quickly put a stop to that by grabbing her arm and spinning her around, I cautioned her with a wag of my finger and put both her arms over her head clasping her fingers together locking them there. Bleary-eyed she submitted. I kissed her nose then moved into her second rancid pit, kissing it lightly, Kate watched intently as I began to suck in the slurry from her hair. Kate dropped her other arm and gently stroked my ear and cheek, in what I can only describe as a maternal way.

“Dirty, clatty boy,” she whispered, as she took her hand off my face and parted her pit hair so that my tongue could reach her sour milky skin underneath. She placed a finger into my mouth in witness of my tongue hard at work spit shining her underarm clean.

Enraged by the eroticism that splashed over my tongue, my testosterone level demanded a show of dominance. I pinned her back against the rail and dug back into her neck as my cock lanced at her belly against the wool of the kilt. Kate’s lips clenched together blowing out a stifled moan. I quickened the pace and pressure of my tongue to her underarm, Kate stiffened, arched her back, and grasped at the rail, her breasts pumped outward, and I straddled my knee between her legs. Kate instantly responded, opening her legs pressing her now wet panties into my thigh. She slowly began riding it, and then progressively quickened the pace as her excitement grew.

“Mmmm…Muauh…Mmuah,” she hummed between every laboured breath.

Man, this ‘ol’ gal’ is insatiable I thought as I lifted my face from under her arm, I had to break to watch as her self-control sheared away from her – I was pretty sure she was no longer feeling my cleaning efforts anyway!

Kate seemed to be in a trance, her loud moaning was totally turning me on! I encouraged her by straightening up and tensing up my quadriceps, giving her more room and a harder surface to slide her greasy panties over. Kate released her grip on the rail, beads of sweat ran from her face and dripped down between her tits. To steady her, I placed my arms around her waist and took hold, my arms flowing with her as she ground her pussy into me;

“Go, baby, Oh ya, good girl – wet me,” I growled.

Kate’s hips started to thrust at a tremendous speed, my leg slickened wet by her foul juices, the friction released her strong sexual vapours between us, which even the steady breeze couldn’t hide. I breathed her in greedily, God, her smell was sexy!

Kate’s hips lifted, then came crashing back down with a force that caused me to momentarily buckle, she slid down lifted and came down hard again. Her pubic bone pounded into my leg so violently I was certain it was going to leave a bruise. She repeated this action over and over; hammering my leg, her loud anguished moans broke the silence in unison with every hit. My thigh now shined under her greasy panties and my cock hardened to the extent that I seriously thought it would split. I knew that if I wasn’t careful the cauldron of semen inside would soon boil over from my throbbing balls, wasting into the kilt.

She howled, as her entire body released a massive shudder, her legs started to shake, as she convulsed through an intense orgasm. She lifted and thrust hard into me again, then stiffened up completely;
“OH, OH MMMMmmm, AAAAAAYYYYEEEE!”

A powerful spurt of hot cum squirted through her panties, so fierce it dripped from my leg. She twisted as the aftershocks came, then continued riding my leg – bucking into it over and over… Her breasts heaved as she desperately gasped for a full breath of air, her guttural moans indicated that she was approaching the recovering end of her climax;

“Mmmm…Muauh…Mmuah, ” she moaned as she continued to glide over my thigh further soaking it with each slow and rhythmic stroke.

Finally, she took me by the waist to steady herself, her sopping panties pressed into my thigh in an
failed effort to stem her pulsing pussy, uncontrollably wracked in tremor.

“Holy fuck”… she blew as her body froze stiff with rapture.

After a moment of stillness, her pelvis bucked for a final time and her head dropped into my chest – exhausted. Her hot breath warmed my nipple, and her arms that wrapped around me warmed my heart. Her gentle fingers ran up and down my sweat-soaked back, She held me tight for several moments saying nothing. With a final shiver, her respiration settled down to a steady purr.

She looked up at me, if I didn’t know any better I would say she seemed slightly embarrassed as she stood up;

“Come to bed William,” she softly said, her voice barely audible as the breeze wisped through the trees.