A Scottish Prize
- 3 years ago
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Red’s Scottish Trip Ch. 04 free porn video
Author’s note: As with any story in several chapters, it will help you follow this if you have read Chapters 1-3. I hope you will find it worth the reading.
1.
Sandy turned restlessly, glanced at his alarm. Six-thirty. He buried his head under the bedclothes and tried to get back to sleep, but he knew as he did so that it wasn’t going to work. Red’s holiday proposal was churning through his brain and he couldn’t switch it off. There was no reason in principle why he shouldn’t go with her. She had booked him for another two days tour-guiding, then she had planned to hire a car and tour herself.
He had clients booked for three days after that, a couple of middle-aged American women. His dairy was thereafter flexible until Red’s flight back to Toronto. He had a few things to work on, but if he decided to go with Red, he could take his laptop and deal with his business whilst they were on holiday.
His engagement the previous evening had gone smoothly. It had been a dinner with his agent and publisher, to discuss the new book he was near to completing. This was a pretty arcane piece of literary history, as his few previous publications had been, in this case a reappraisal of the Scots novelist Neil Gunn. It had taken him two years so far, and would of course never be a big-selling volume. But he was pleased with it, and so, more importantly, were his agent and publisher. It was high time Gunn got his place back in the literary firmament, and Sandy hoped his book would help that rehabilitation along. The long-dead man deserved it, he was an amazing writer.
Sandy really relished the opportunity of Red’s company for another two weeks or so. Too much, that was the problem. She wasn’t just a casual fuck for him, whatever he might be for her. She was getting under his skin and he knew it could never work out. He knew himself well enough to understand he was heading for a hard fall.
On the other hand, he reasoned, she was already under his skin. He couldn’t undo that. To turn down her holiday proposal would just be a bit of harsh self-denial. He liked her, loved her vivacious company. And her delicious sex. So why not go with her? He wasn’t rich, but he could afford to take an unplanned break. And she was obviously keen for him to be with her.
He touched his cock. He resisted the temptation to masturbate: he knew that whatever they did today – they had made no firm plans – they would have sex somewhere. He was pushing sixty and didn’t have the sexual stamina he’d once enjoyed. And he most certainly didn’t want to disappoint her.
So, smiling, he got out of bed and peeked through the curtains. It looked like another lovely day. He showered, dressed, and made a pot of Darjeeling. He’d do a bit of work for an hour or so, picking up on a couple of points that had arisen over dinner last night. Then think about a programme for the day with Red, whilst he made breakfast.
He met Red at Ma Docherty’s at nine sharp and they hugged warmly on the doorstep. So tourguide, what delights have you lined up for me today? she asked, gently biting his earlobe.
Mm, he squirmed: It’s a gorgeous morning and the forecast’s good. Another day in the country maybe? I packed a picnic, just in case. He ushered her to the driver’s door. If you’re OK driving, madam?
Yeah, I’m getting the feel of it, that’s fine, and she turned to him as he climbed in. He melted under her smile. Red, you just have no idea what you do to me, he murmured, leaning to kiss her. Now, I thought we might head northwest a bit, have a look at Loch Lomond, and maybe a mansion by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. How does that sound lassie?
She hugged him and licked his throat: Sounds great Sandy. But I have something terrible to tell you…
His face clouded: What darling? The word was out before he realised it. Shit, he hadn’t intended to use that endearment.
She kissed him softly and fingered his cock through the kilt: I’m real horny today, goof. Horny for you. And I expect you to deal with it sometime soon. Client’s instructions!
He returned her kiss, fingers stroking her breast: I think I can deal with that OK, lass. So let’s get moving, I can’t do it here. Unless you want to visit my flat first?
Mmm, tempting…But hey! It’s a lovely morning, let’s go al fresco again, huh?
As she drove, they gave each other edited versions of their adventures the previous evening. Presently they were out of the city and leaving leafy suburbs behind, moving up into rolling sheep-clad hills As the car neared a wooded summit Sandy said: There’s a viewpoint here Red: the Queen’s View. Bear left into the carpark.
Once she parked she could concentrate on the stunning view ahead: rolling moorland down to an island-studded lake (loch! she reminded herself), with high mountains around and beyond. At this time on a weekday morning, no other cars were parked here.
Hey Sandy, that’s some view!
It’s called Queen’s View because allegedly it was a favourite of Queen Victoria, he said. That’s Loch Lomond down there, and the start of the Highlands beyond. Fancy a wee walk? He glanced at her shoes. Today she was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and trainers.
Uh, yeah. Where’re we going? He pointed to where a path led up a gentle hillside to their left: Just up to that wee summit to get a better view, he said: Are you game? It’s only half-a-mile. Better grab your jacket, it might get windy.
Hey, old guy, you sure you can make it? He slapped her knee lightly: I’m at least as fit as you are girl, now come on! They climbed a stile over a stone dyke and wandered up the path. Scots bluebells studded the lower reaches of the path.
He put his arm companionably round her waist. Course I do want you to get a better view from up there, he said, but I have an ulterior motive. He pulled her to him for a kiss, hands firmly on her arse. His fingers massaged her muscles.
As their lips parted she asked innocently: Oh Sandy! An ulterior motive? Now what could that be honey? He kissed her again, with uncharacteristic aggression, and bit her lobe not-so-gently.
I have something to tell you Red. When we get to the right spot. Now, let’s get up this brae, and he took her hand and strode up quickly. She almost fell as he pulled, but caught her balance and moved fast till she was leading him. Turned and blocked his way, looked coyly at him from under her eyebrows: Have you decided if we’re going to have a holiday together Sandy?
He put his hand under her shirt and pinched her left nipple: You’ll find out in due course Red. The other hand went to her jean-clad groin, roughly. This was a new Sandy, or at least one she hadn’t seen before. Now, he growled, come on. I need to fuck you. Soon.
A few minutes later they breasted the summit. He waited whilst she took photos. Now girl, we’re going down here, and he pulled her off the path, down a rough heather-strewn slope, into a wee valley. He was clearly going somewhere in particular and she followed, getting aroused now.
She knew what this was about. The twig-like heather scratched her through her jeans and he pointed as a big rabbit rose before them, a strangely-coloured one. It louped lazily off out of sight. Mountain hare, he turned and said: Just moving from winter white coat to summer blue. They’re rare this far south, we’re lucky to have seen it.
He moved behind an outcrop of rock and she followed. A patch of sunlit grass lay beside a stream. It was so sheltered that not a leaf stirred. She was sweating from the walk and felt the sun on her face.
He spread his jacket on the grass and turned to her: Ohfuck I need you Red. He kissed her hard as his fingers went to the zip of her jeans and unfastened her. He knelt to plunge his face into her crotch, scenting her through her panties. He unlaced her trainers and slipped them off, then slid the jeans and panties over her thighs and helped her step from them. He stood and pul
led her jacket and shirt off so she was before him, naked and vulnerable. He quickly stripped. Pulled her down onto the jacket on the ground. She complied: she was very aroused now.
He knelt between her legs and eagerly licked her wet cunt out, roughly, insistently, moustache and beard scraping her softness.
Red you are turning me into a sexanimal, he said, lifting her thighs to her shoulders and licking into her anus. Are you sure you can cope with another fortnight of me? He rose on his knees now, eyes drilling into hers. She shuddered as his finger entered her vagina.
I think – she squirmed a little – I already asked you to be with me Sandy?
You’re quite sure? He smiled into her, something new there she couldn’t measure. He had three fingers in her now, stroking softly, a thumb rubbing her clit.
Sandy, of course I’m sure…ahhh
Good. Because I want to be with you Red, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. But.
She glanced a question: But?
But, he said, raising her knees to her ears again, wet finger gently probing her arsehole now. But I need to fuck your arse darling. Not often, but sometime. He released her legs and knelt back, looking straight into her eyes. But he saw fright and confusion.
Shit, he thought, that was mad, I’ve blown it with her.
Red propped herself up on her arms, all confusion gone now. She glared at him, in sorrow as much as anger, he thought. But anger there was.
So let me just get this right Mr. Sandy Tourguide. You will agree to holiday with me only if I give you my ass? Just what sort of a deal is that Mr Niceguy?
Nobody ever had my ass willingly, and I already told you, it’s not available. To you or anybody. Full. Fucking. Stop. And I was really getting to like you, to respect you. She was pulling on her clothes.
Well fuck off, right out of my life, she said. Is there a bus service on that road down there? I’ll pay you for your two remaining days as I’ve booked you, but I’ll be fine on my own from now on.
Sandy shrank before her, head in his hands. He’d blown it beyond rescue. Hadn’t left any room for either of them to come back. Stupid, stupid fucker.
She was dressing now, still livid. He moved to gather his clothes, pulled them on hurriedly. When they were dressed they stood apart uneasily, looking into the distance as a buzzard soared above. He moved to face her, deep shame crumpling his face. Her eyes were stone.
Red, I realise we maybe can’t come back from there, but I am a deeply deeply sorry and stupid man. She turned and headed up the bank towards the path. He’d seen the tears in her eyes.
When they reached the summit of the path she turned to him, shaking. Sandy, you are one totally fucking stupid old man. I do not give myself to just anyone. I gave myself to you because you captivated me as a human being. As well – she smiled wanly at him through her tears – as well as feeling your sexual attraction. Intensely, in case you hadn’t noticed. Now, in a few stupid words, you’ve destroyed it all. Please take me somewhere I can find a bus or train back to the city. She turned and strode off down the path. He slowly followed, rolling himself a cigarette in a vain effort to help himself concentrate.
When they got to the car she turned to him and he held her, kissed her gently. Red, my darling, he whispered, please forgive me. There is something deep between us and I’m a bit scared. And somehow you just drive me daft. But there is no excuse for what I just said, wanted to do. I know that.
She slapped his face hard: OK bastard. Now this woman’s paying you to show her Scotland. So show her. But please understand, I am explosively angry at your stupidity and total insensitivity. Now let me get into the right frame of mind to drive, please.
He recognised her deep-breathing exercises as she de-stressed herself, and once again admired her composure and self-confidence. She was a rare and wonderful woman, and he was consumed with regret and shame at his stupid lust-driven lapse.
2.
As she started the car he tried to pull himself together and get into tourguide mode again. Turn left onto the road Red, keep going the way we were heading. A few miles along the road it forks and we have a choice.
Turn right there and we head up the quiet side of the Loch. The road narrows and becomes single-track after a bit. There are lovely secluded lochside beaches, interesting woodland paths, and easy hillwalks if you’re feeling energetic.
Turn left and we’re heading for the tourist trail up the Loch. It offers boat cruises, and a very pretty old estate village called Luss which features in every Scottish calendar ever printed. Some gorgeous mountain panoramas, and lots of tourist shops. Take your pick. I’ll warn you when the junction’s coming up.
The road dipped from the high moorland, through deciduous woods, and onto wide flat meadows. The junction’s coming soon Red, which way do you fancy? Sandy asked.
Uh, right is quiet and secluded, left is the tourist trail? I’m for quiet and secluded, Red said. And they headed up the east side of the Loch. When they were entering the village of Balmaha, Sandy said: After this the road becomes single-track, and there are a few blind summits which need a slow approach and fast reflexes, in case a vehicle’s coming the other way. Want me to take the driving now?
She gave him a withering glance: I know what a single-track road is, goof. I think I’ll manage. He shrugged, smiling at her now. He felt something of their easiness together returning. That’s OK Red, he grinned: I just thought I should warn you.
The road curved round a bay with small yachts at moorings, wee wooded islands rising behind them. She pulled in to park at the kerb so she could look properly, and noticed a small red motorboat with ‘Royal Mail’ emblazoned on it.
That’s how the postman gets to the islands, Sandy said. Quite a few of them are inhabited. One’s a naturist resort.
Nice work for the postman, she smiled. Have you visited the naturist island Sandy?
Not yet lassie. Fancy a trip?
Uh, no. Can’t we just make do with a secluded bay? she teased.
He was so glad that she was recovering her usual sense of humour, after his stupid breach of her trust. She started the car again, slowed sensibly as they passed the sign warning: ‘Single-Track Road. Please Use Passing Places’. The car climbed up a steep wooded hill and she hit the brakes as an ancient Land-Rover zoomed over the summit in front of them and flurried to a halt in the ditch. After the farmer eased his vehicle past, Red slipped from the driver’s door and moved round the car.
She kissed Sandy as he emerged from the passenger seat, hugged him: OK tourguide, maybe you better drive this bit after all. That did shake me a little.
Sandy pottered gently up the lane for a couple of miles till Red grabbed his knee: Now just stop right here please, Sandy. What on earth are these beasts? A herd of long-haired Highland cattle lowed in the field, some with their heads probing curiously over the dyke. Large fly-buzzed eyes regarded the humans balefully from under long golden fringes.
Ach, they’re just Hielan Coos lassie, he laughed. I think the Tourist Board subsidises farmers to keep them, so visitors can take photos of them. They’re rather curious-looking, aren’t they?
Red was out of the car with her camera, and the charismatic-looking cattle gazed imperturbably as she focussed on them. OK Sandy, I take it ‘Hielan Coos’ is Highland Cows? He nodded. Well, whatever they’re called, they sure are cute. Her face dimpled. A bit like you Sandy – on a good day.
Now, as she returned to the car: Where are those secluded beaches you told me about? This girl’s getting hungry.
Sandy hoped that after his earlier shameful outburst, Red might still be hungry for him, but he knew in his heart the chances were against it. He drove
another mile up the road, then turned left onto a rough track that had the car bumping in first gear over rocks and tree-roots as they wound between silver birch and willow. After half-a-mile he drew to a halt by a wee cove.
The loch lapped gently on the small beach and a flock of colourful small birds flittered through the waterside alders, reds and yellows flashing in the sun. Just back from the lochside there was a patch of fine sunwashed greensward beneath a stand of Scots pines. Rounded heather-clad hills rose to the west, miles away on the other side of the loch. No people, no picnic-tables. Just solitude and quiet, soft birdsong apart.
He turned to Red: Will this do you my dear?
She leaned to kiss his lips: Hey honey, this is just perfect.
He stretched a blanket on the soft grass beneath the pines, fetched the rucsac containing the picnic. Red stretched on the blanket, wriggled to get comfortable, turned to him as he sat by her.
Sandy, she whispered, what on earth made you say what you did back there?
Red, I wish I knew, he replied. I was swept by lust. You know I care deeply for you, my dear? You know you’re not just a casual opportunist fuck for me?
I think I realise that Sandy.
I was, well, I was very excited by your invitation to be with you for the rest of your holiday. I felt intensely flattered and privileged that you wanted me to be with you on that basis. In our couple of days together I have learned to respect you deeply. Not to mention what you do to me sexually. He looked her straight in her eyes, bent to kiss her gently. But…
She groaned: Ah, there’s always a ‘but’.
But I can’t help wanting your arse Red. You know that, and I know you’ve told me it is not available to me. I don’t know why I spoke like that, back at Queen’s View.
I suppose…well, maybe I was trying to be dominant. That isn’t how I really am, I hope you know that. I’ve repressed my sexual feelings for so long, and maybe I thought you and I had reached a stage when I could say that to you. I know I was totally wrong, that I misjudged you, my sweet. Please forgive me, if you can?
She reached up, drew his head down to her face: Honey, I know you’re a good and complex man. All the best human beings are, complex that is. Her arm was around his neck and she pulled his mouth to hers, kissed him with care.
Let me tell you something honey, she said. Something I’ve never told another human being. When I was a teenager, just fifteen, my uncle raped me. Not in the pussy. He raped my ass. I had loved him, trusted him. I don’t need to tell you any more than that. It was agony and I hated every second of it. He forced me, it was total rape. Can you begin to understand how I feel about the idea of anyone in my ass?
There were tears in Sandy’s eyes as he kissed her tenderly. I am so sorry darling, he said. I have no words to express to you how sorry I am. About what he did to you, and about what an insensitive bastard I’ve been.
She quivered in his embrace for a moment: I’ve been learning to trust you Sandy, she said. You are truly such a lovely man. Let me trust you honey? Could we please have a lovely holiday together?
He raised his head and they gazed unblinkingly into each others’ eyes for what seemed like an aeon. You can trust me Red, he whispered. You can trust me absolutely darling.
Good. She wriggled from his arms, mischief now in the twinkle of her eyes. So where’s my picnic, tourguide?
3.
He drew the picnic from the rucsac and they ate in the wonderful tranquillity of the setting. He poured French Chardonnay for them both, had even brought wine-glasses this time, she noted. He must have got it really cold overnight, she thought, it was chilled just right now.
She had quite recovered from her anger. She recognised contrition when she saw it, and knew he wouldn’t ever try and press her into anything she didn’t want. After his one glass of wine he was sipping tea, she noticed, but he had filled her glass with wine again.
Huh, tourguide, are you trying to get me relaxed so you can have your evil way with me? she smiled, sipping the fragrant wine.
Fawn
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