Well it happened like this - there I was, alone in Melrose after dark and reconciled to making my way home when I bumped into a guy in a KILT! there are a lot of them around, especially after weddings, and this guy was a bit unsteady on his feet. Oh, I know I could never have pulled him if he'd been sober and it was in the light of day, but on a damp dark night he was mine for the taking. I took his hand and led him to a quiet secluded corner. He couldn't stop talking - this was his first time in the Borders, he'd had a soft spot for the Bride, but his mate had won her and someone else got off with the Bridesmaid, which had left him like a lemon. "Well, let me suck it and see," said I.
At least he'd worn nothing under the his kilt, so it was just a matter of slipping my hand under it and feeling his cock swell under my fingers.
Down on my knees, up with the kilt and soon I was sucking on the biggest Sherbert Lemon I'd tasted for a while.
Mmmmmmm when he came it was sweet and juicy and his knees trembled but not from the cold.
He said afterwards that his name was Ivor and if I was ever in Wales I should look him up.
I won't do that, because my Bus Pass wouldn't take me there - but a Gurrrl canb dream, can't she!
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10:31 pm Friday, 2nd September, 2011
My Goodness! So I'm not alone in finding the Kilt a "handy" item of male dress - it allows easy access and if worn properly, I can sit on the Gentleman's lap with his penis emerging by the fold and entering me to the hilt and none the wiser for any observers - except for my ecstatic - if not beatific - smile on analloyed pleasure. Oh and the look on the Gentleman's face as well - The Cat Wot Got The Cream. |
