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This story takes me back a little, to a stay I had arranged in Scotland a couple of years back. My client had booked me for an overnighter one Saturday at the end of January - some nice dinner, a few drinks and more than a little dalliance, I hoped! - so I duly dug out my tartan, to make the experience more authentic.
Then the week beforeI got hit with a double whammy. To begin with the company I was working for at the time threw a spanner in the works, by asking me to travel to the South West for a meeting on the Friday morning, and just as I was coming to terms with how I'd tackle the drive from Bristol to Dundee my booking rang up, asking if I could postpone until the following month. He was and is a good regular, not to mention a very considerate lover, so even though it wasn't a great deal of notice and I had already packed for the trip I knew he wasn't letting me down lightly and I forgave him.
The early start for the meeting meant I had to stop over the night before, so Thursday afternoon saw me crawling down the usual heavy traffic on the M6, so I could join the usual heavy traffic on the M5. As the rain fell and the glare of tail lights stretched into the distance I couldn't help thinking of my favourite Scotsman and his imaginative and slightly kinky lovemaking.
I got to the hotel in the late afternoon, checked in, and found that there was a Burns Night dinner that night. Amused by the coincidence, I let the receptionist sell me a ticket, and trotted upstairs to break out my tartan. I came down to the restaurant a little early and was pleased to see that my outfit meant I fitted in completely with everyone there.As part of the pre-dinner entertainment the master of ceremonies announced there was to be a little fun quiz about Burns and Scotland, with a prize of a rather fine bottle of malt for the winner. As I'm not averse to a nice scotch I picked up an answer sheet and started playing along.
I saw quite early on that I was at a bit of a disadvantage in one respect - nearly everyone else was part of a group or at the very least a couple, while I was playing by myself. Fortune smiled on me, though, as just as I was wondering which famous Scot was on the back of a particular banknote, my table suddenly got darker, and a very north-of-the-border accent asked if I minded him joining me.
I looked up and saw the broadness of the accent was matched by the broadness of the shoulders. He was dressed in an immaculate jacket, paired with the full kilt and stockings and with a little too much haste I found myself inviting Robert to sit next to me. I could tell straight away that he was a good bit younger than me, but not to the point where I could have been his mother Not thatI worry too much about age within reasonable limits, you understand - I have one particular client who views me as his rather naughty auntie! , and before long I found myself flirting a little with my new friend, and quite clearly getting some back in return.
His fine brown eyes flicked over the answers I had written down so far, and he nodded his patriotic approval to most of them.One or two he corrected, then he got one or two that I hadn't managed to did you know the actor who played Scotty in the original Start Trek TV series was from Canada and things were looking promising for the first prize when we came to the last question.
'What English word is derived for the Gaelic for water of life'
It was an answer I knew straight away, so I wrote it down and sat back smiling, expecting a little praise. However, when I looked into Rob's face he seemed stern for some reason. He stood up held his hand out to me and just said coldly, 'Come with me, Lorna.'
I was a little startled at his words, but as it happened a little thrilled as well. He took my hand and led me from the bar, silently. My heart gave a leap as he used his swipe card to unlock the door to the ground floor residents corridor, and I followed him silently to his room.
He sat on the bed, looking up at me.
The voice was quiet, but the sense of authority couldn't be ignored. I took a step towards him. He put his arms a little behind him, leaning back slightly.
'Over my lap, Lorna.'
I really didn't know what to say. I do know what I wanted to do, though. Slightly clumsily, I put myself across those large thighs, lying on my tummy. His sporran poked rather awkwardly into my left breast and I squirmed a little to get comfortable.
'Lift up your skirt.'
I thought of it as a kilt, but I did as I was told. The panties that I revealed were sensible, plain white and hardly any thickness at all, but apparently, they were still to be objected to.
'Panties down, please.'
I wiggled them down my thighs, to half mast, then dropped them to the floor. I could feel something pressing into my body that I was sure wasn't sporran. A large left hand came down slowly between my shoulder blades, pressing me into his groin and holding me tight as he pressed up into my tummy. I knew exactly what the large right hand was about to do, and I was dying for it to happen. The bastard made me wait for what seemed like an eternity, before the first cupped-hand smack came. It was delicious, just hard enough to tingle. The rest followed as he explained where I had gone wrong.
'Do not' SPANK
He then spelt it the Scots way, his hand falling once for each letter. I couldn't help but notice that his fingertips were gradually slipping in between my reddening, tingling cheeks, and I squirmed a little more, so that he was touching my pussy lips with each blow. There was no way he could miss how wet I had got.
After the spelling lesson there was a short pause. I wondered if hefelt he had gone a bit too far with a near total stranger, so I moaned a little to let him know he hadn't gone nearly far enough. He took his hand out of my back and I stood up, reached down, and lifted the hem of his kilt.
'Just checking!' I smiled. His cock was pleasingly stiff. And pleasingly fat. I reached down to take it in my hand and within five seconds its head was inside me. His hands came up to hold my ribs, so I could concentrate on getting all of him into my cunt.
That first fuck didn't last too long, but it didn't have to. As I rode him I put my head to his neck, tempted to give him a love bite as if I was a schoolgirl. I was still wincing a little when I came, flushing and hot and wishing I had taken more clothes off. I looked at him as I moved, and saw his eyelids close and his mouth drop open. I pushed down onto him and stuck my tongue as far into his mouth as I could as he pumped his load into me.
We sat together getting our breath back. His sperm started running out of me, down the side of his cock and making a small puddle in his kilt. I lifted myself off him, wondering whether to get on my knees and suck him back to life for round two.
'Christ Lorna, that was fantastic.'
I had obviously made an impression!
'Sorry I went and got all masterful there, but as soon as I saw you I knew I wanted to fuck you. I got the feeling you might be up for it as well, but I didn't think I could wait till after dinner. That last question was just an excuse really.'
'Well, there's a coincidence!'
His puzzled expression was a joy to behold.I started to stroke his cock and was pleased to see signs of life. I carried on.
'It's the twenty first century, Rob, women are allowed to want to fuck a charming, attractive stranger as well, you know! But as you say, how to get the ball rolling Then question twenty came to my rescue.'
He smiled, but still looked a little lost.
'What I mean is, you don't spendfour years living with a guy who runs a Speyside distillery without getting to know how to spell whisky correctly. And how spelling it wronglymight get a proud Scotsman a little fired up...'
He could tell he'd been had, but in the nicest possible way. I teased him a little.
'Perhaps we should be getting back. I think we might have won the quiz, and that first prize was quite a good malt too. '
'I know. My company makes the stuff. We don't have to dash though, I have another eleven bottles in a case in my car. On the other hand I do draw the line at paying for a dinner I don't get to eat..'
'Quite right too! OK, so it's downstairs for the haggis dinner, then out to your car to pick up the nightcap.'
'Then round two Sounds good to me! And dessert'
'I have something rather edible I hope I can tempt you with.'
We both stood up, our kilts dropping and rendering us instantly respectable once more.
We had a marvellous dinner, with a tremendous serving of anticipation on both fronts, as I teased him under the table throughout the meal. Afterwards I insisted we go back to my room. I managed to set up a couple of naughty selfies proving that there was nothing worn under his kilt, then we settled down to a dessert course of 69, followed by a lovely creamy finish over the cheeks of my arse!
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