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Red’s Scottish Trip Ch. 02

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Thanks to you all for your kind words, but especially to my friends in: Anonymous, Arizona, Galway, Glasgow, the Hebrides, and Ontario. In strict alphabetical order.

For new readers, you might find it would help if you read Chapter 1 first. All comments, public or private, most welcome. I’ve a thick enough skin to take criticism.


She didn’t call that afternoon, or evening, and he assumed she was catching up on sleep. At 10pm he called Mrs Docherty to tell her he would be round at nine after breakfast: Oh, she’s out now, said she might be late so I gave her the key, he was told.

In bed that night he thought about her…It was a mistake, a moment of madness, I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen, and it won’t again. Too much to deal with in my life just now. And I’m too old to have holiday flings…but he couldn’t erase the image of her arse spread invitingly on the castle window…of her masturbating with the vibrator on Ma Docherty’s bed. His cock was rigid and he played with it, thinking of her with the toy up her cunt, wanting her. He reached for a Kleenex and wanked hard till his cock erupted, imagining her…wiped himself clean and waited for sleep.

But it didn’t come straight away. His life was a mess right now and he wasn’t trained to avoid things. The divorce was in process and it was hard going. For him at least, he thought ruefully. He still missed his wife Jean, and couldn’t blame her for what had happened. He had messed around and wasn’t surprised when she wanted to play, she must have known. But instead of just having an affair with the man, she had fallen in love and moved out. He hadn’t touched a woman since, until yesterday, almost scared to, after the mess he’d made of his marriage; the awkwardness it had brought between him and his family.

Money wasn’t the problem, so at least he didn’t have that worry, and she couldn’t clean him out as she had left him. Or so his lawyer assured him. But he was alone now and he had to deal with that, sort out a plan for the rest of his life. He was sixty, but he didn’t feel old, he had lots of mountains still to climb, figurative and real. Then yesterday Red had exploded into his life, re-awoken his lust…made him come twice in one day, now how long was it since THAT had happened? Just as well he had come again just now, it should reduce his libido tomorrow. But he was booked for another four days with her before she went off touring on her own…

She awoke to her alarm at 7.30, pulled on her sweaty tracksuit, and drew the curtains on a grey wet morning — so much for Scottish spring! Then sat on the floor to lose herself in yoga and collect herself for the day. Started her routine, but couldn’t focus, mind and body still recovering from her overnight flight and first day in Glasgow. Gave up and sipped tea for a while, thinking about the previous day. Her toy hadn’t worked its magic, she hadn’t orgasmed after Sandy had left, and she had eventually drifted off for a bit. Came to at eight hungry, showered, slipped into a dress. Decided not to phone him, she was annoyed that he could reject her when she had ached for him, performed for him like that. So Mrs Docherty had given her directions to find a meal, and had given her a key. Bugger you, Mr Alexander, I’ll taste Glasgow myself tonight.

It was fifteen minutes walk to Byres Road, bustling with bars and restaurants. She noticed a sign for a curry house up a lane, followed her nose, left well-satisfied after a fine Punjabi meal. Paused after rejoining the street, asking directions to the place Mrs Docherty had mentioned: a bar where a single woman could feel OK. It was a converted church on a busy corner, folks still sitting outside smoking though it was dark and cool now.

Inside was richly and rather strangely decorated, elaborate edgy murals on the walls. She felt comfortable and entered, no music, just a low buzz of conversation. She asked for a good pint of Scottish beer and retired to a corner where she could just watch, between dipping into the guidebook Sandy had sent her in Ontario. ‘Scotland the best’, hmmm. Well, it mentioned both the restaurant and this bar, but what about tomorrow? She skimmed through the Glasgow attractions, was just getting into the architecture of CR Mackintosh when she became aware of someone standing by her table, a smartly-dressed older woman.

Excuse me, d’you mind if I sit here? Red smiled acquiescence; the woman set her drink on the table, sat down. Thank you. I’d rather not sit down at a tableful of men! A disdainful pout.

Yeah, they get ideas about a woman on her own, don’t they? Red said. They exchanged introductions, the woman was Alison, a librarian. She was a very well-preserved fifty-something. Red warmed to her as they spoke. Alison had a brother in Gravenhurst, just down Hwy 11 from Red’s home, and visited regularly. They talked about airlines, Toronto, stuff.

But I’m being thoughtless, said Alison. Do tell me what you want to see in Glasgow, maybe I can help?

Hey, kaçak iddaa that’s very kind. I’m only in the city for four days, then off touring. For some reason Red didn’t mention Sandy.

Well, you can see a lot in four days, and I see you have the best guide. Looks like rain tomorrow, I suggest you start where the city’s history starts: with the cathedral and Provand’s Lordship. That’s the oldest house in the city, fourteen-something.

Well, I gotta go there!

Yes you must. Alison glanced up, smiled. Now I must leave, my date’s arrived, but here’s my number, looking Red straight in the eye, something in her smile. I hope we can meet properly before you go? Ring me, please, maybe we can have a meal? Bye for now, and enjoy your evening.

Alison moved off to greet a much younger woman, who kissed her on the mouth. Red lingered in her book, finished her drink. Left with a wave at Alison, whose arm was around her young date.

A gong sounded through her reverie, and she realised it was time for breakfast.

Over the food she thought about Sandy. Christ she had lusted for him yesterday! Quite out of character…well, maybe not completely. But with a wet day today there would be no picnic, no alfresco fun, so she would dress demurely. Besides, she hadn’t forgiven him for his rejection. But a skirt rather than pants, maybe suspenders. She needed to remind him she was a woman…

He rang the bell at 9.00 sharp and she was waiting at the door. Took in his jeans and casual top, kissed his cheek lightly: Hey, I thought the deal was, you wore a kilt!

Oh, sorry Red, I thought that was just the first day. Would you rather I changed, I don’t want to disappoint you?

She called a parting to Mrs D, pulled him out the door: Yeah, I’d like that Sandy. Would you please, you look really distinguished in it, and remember, your client is always right!

Um, well…I suppose you could wait at my place while I change, it’s just round the corner. This way.

He didn’t say anything about last night — or anything else. Neither did she. I was thinking about the cathedral today Sandy, and some old house nearby. You OK with that?

That’ll be Provand’s Lordship? Yes, sounds like a good start on a dreich day. This is my street right here.

Grey stone four-storey Victorian apartments, small gardens at the front, a wide street with huge trees on grass in the middle. She knew enough about property to know these weren’t slums, but she was still surprised someone like Sandy lived in an old apartment block. She told him so cautiously.

Red, in Canada half the population of the UK has the second largest country in the world to spread around in. You have lots of room to build big homes on generous plots of land, except downtown in the biggest cities. In the UK we have twice the population of Canada in just a bit more than the area of Nova Scotia. Land is really expensive, property and room sizes are mainly wee, and the tiniest house costs an arm and a leg. I reckon I’m lucky to live here. Wait till you see inside my flat, the amount of room I have, and remember we are less than a mile from the city centre. And wait till you see inside other Scots homes before you pass judgement!

OK Prof, I guess it’s a different world in quite a few ways, she laughed, following him up a stone staircase, then into his apartment. Now, go get yourself decent before you lecture the morning away – client’s orders!

He was right: even the entrance hall was long and wide, maybe twelve feet tall, delicate plaster cornices, elaborate stained glass on and above the door: Is this all original Victorian?

Oh yes. Sometimes it has been replaced, but this all looks original to me. Now, I need some guidance from you, Ms Clientboss.

He had decided on a strategy for dealing with her today: this would be the first step. She followed him into what was obviously his bedroom. Please sit over there, Red, indicating a fine upholstered fin-de-siècle armchair in rich art nouveau fabric. She barely dared sit on it, perched on the edge, legs demurely together.

Now, I want you to tell me how to dress to please you best today. He drew the curtains, switched on a spotlight and, standing under it, removed all his clothes. He spun almost balletically, bowed, and smiled at her. His cock hung gently at ease, but even then it caused her to catch breath. She crossed her legs deliberately, showing stockinged, gartered thigh. Noted with satisfaction that the cock twitched.

Now Red, you have tabula rasa. Tell me what to wear, and I will dress just as you wish. But the deal’s off if you try to touch me. Only I can do that — and his hand circled his cock and stroked it to erection.

We-ell now! she whispered. Now there’s a sight to wake a girl up! What are the options…dress-wise? She manoeuvred to lean forward a little so he could see the top of her breasts under her demure blouse. He continued to stroke his cock, as it quivered upright.

First Red, kaçak bahis you are going to watch me masturbate till I come. I want to do that so he is less interested in you today. His voice was tight. You can do anything you want but you can’t touch me. Then I will dress, on your advice.

Well that’s a hard call Sandy, a little hard for me. But two can play at that game, she thought…

So; she stood up now, I’ll just have to follow your example — unbuttoning her blouse — so I don’t have any problems today either. Shucked it off, unzipped her skirt, stood before him in her underwear and garters. She slid her hand down the front of her panties. Mmm, she murmured: seems to be a bit wet down here, certainly needs attention. His cockhead was slick with precum as he continued to masturbate. She turned her back on him, unhooked her bra and bent right over the chair to slip her panties off. Sandy, I need to be on your bed, and she slid onto it on her back, knees bent and legs wide.

He turned to face her, moving beside the bed as both her hands went to her groin. His hand had slowed down now, precum dripping from the eye as his fingers stroked gently. Red, I don’t know what you are doing to me, I have …his fingers speeding up … never…behaved like this…before.

Her right fingers were a blur in her crotch and he watched closely as her left fingers spread her cuntlips wider. Between her legs was the most beautiful spreading pink flower and he was tingling with electricity as he watched her pleasure herself, luxuriating in her vibrant moans. I need to watch you orgasm Red — whispered — I have never watched a woman masturbate to orgasm…

Ohfucksandy you will I promise. Hips writhing now as she watched his hand moving on his cock, ohh then you can cum too, need to watch you cum man…she spasmed and moaned hard and ohfuckohfuckman screamed low as her pussy exploded and his spunk spattered her tits under his guttural groans and he fell on her, mouth in her softly pulsing pussy and his cock jerking weakly on her face.

Well I guess nobody touched till after the orgasms she giggled; ohfuck you sure light my fire Sandy.

I thought I was, err… punishing you somehow, for tempting me – muffled in her pussy, her nerve-ends registering his breath – but it didn’t seem to work.

Naah, hon, ya musta known what would happen soon as you pulled your cock on me?

It really never occurred to me that you would react like that. I think I wanted to disgust you or something, so you wouldn’t want me, wouldn’t want to play with me. And of course relieve myself!

Oh man, you sure gotta lot to learn about women: where have you been all your life? But I loved watching you jerk off for me!

Christ I loved watching you masturbate too Red: I was so turned on by you yesterday…

So why didn’t you stay, silly? I was aching for you then. But, hey, more later, huh? It’s ten and I gotta lot of other things to see in this city. Let’s move, pulling him back from his warm attention to her pussy. Guess I’m sated for now, aren’t you?

Er, yes. Now, you want a shower?

No, I want to smell you on me all day, don’t wipe it off. And I want to breathe my smell on your mouth too, so don’t you dare wash it off. But maybe I should lick your spunk off your cock first, then you can get dressed, and she bent her head to the task. NOW, go get your kilt on, except, NO underwear today, client’s rules!

She pushed herself up, started dressing — but slipped her panties into her purse. Who knows? Then, looking in his wardrobe, told him which shirt to wear with his kilt.

A coffee in his kitchen (not so strong, she noted), and they were off. He wasn’t taking the car into town, so they got a bus, and twenty minutes later she was standing on a sort of square, in front of an ancient large green-roofed church, in a grey drizzle.

One genuine medieval cathedral, he whispered into her hair, his lips brushing her forehead. Been a church on this site for over a thousand years, but the earliest bits remaining are nearer seven hundred years, and most of it’s fifteenth century.

That’s the fourteen-hundreds, right? She murmured, awestruck…Sandy, I’ve never seen a church so old. Or any other building.

Wait till you see inside Red, and remember, as European cathedrals go, this is second-division. Scotland was a poor country, so there is no ancient architecture to compare with England or France…except the castles of course!

They entered by a side-door, and she was surprised that she didn’t have to pay. This is a living Church, not Disneyland, numpty! he smiled. It was huge and, atheist as she was, she caught a humbling aura that this was no ordinary building. There were few visitors, and no sign of staff, other than at a stall selling guidebooks.

It’s gorgeous Sandy, she whispered, and look at the glass!

None of that’s old, he responded: all nineteenth century and later. Stained glass didn’t survive the reformation. It was part illegal bahis of the austere Scots brand of Presbyterianism that it went. If you want medieval glass you have to go to England.

You mean, it used to be here and was REMOVED? For religious reasons? What sort of religion is that, that destroys beauty?

You might well ask, Red. But you have to remember that by the time of the reformation, mid fifteen hundreds, the established church, what is now called the Roman Catholic church, was widely viewed as corrupt. And folks knew that in a poor land, ostentation in church buildings was paid for by the sweat of poor people.

So yes, the reformation here destroyed many of what we see now as beautiful cultural artefacts. I interpret that as being a kind of political retribution by the people, for the corruption of the old church, and its exploitation of the local community.

Umm… bit hard to get my head round that right now, it still just seems like vandalism to me. But show me round, Sir Sandy and remember — laughing, bending her head to the top of her blouse — I’m smelling your spunk with every breath I take! And her fingers went surreptitiously to the front of his kilt.

Well, maybe in the context of this discussion that isn’t inappropriate — his fingers rested lightly on her breasts and she felt his stirring. Part of the church’s corruption was certainly sexual. They were even reputed to do it in churches. Hands by their sides now, they were walking down one side of the aisle, when she noted a wide stair down to the right.

Hey, let’s see what this is? She stepped down to emerge into a white-painted chapel. It was empty. She ducked behind a thick column and grabbed him as he passed. She hugged him and whispered: Sandy, it is so gorgeous, but d’you wanna know something? Her fingers were up his kilt now, stroking his cock. He mumbled something. Her fingers teased round the cockhead and she felt him stir.

Finger my pussy Sandy. As she kissed his mouth he caught a whiff of his own sperm from her top, and his fingers dropped to her knee, slid up her thigh, into her dampness. Her fingers closed on his cock, felt it swelling. I always wanted to have sex in a church Sandy …masturbating him now, and pushing her pussy down onto his fingers…and I never have yet.

So here’s your client’s order…oh fuck, she was hot now, beginning to drip. Let’s be as corrupt as the medieval churchpeople. I wanna quickie now Sandy, just fuck me. She turned and leaned forward on the column, bent at the waist, and lifted her skirt so her ass was presented to him. Reached behind and pulled him to her by his dripping cock. He grunted and thrust it hard into her wetness.

Christloveyourcunt Red, thrusting hard. Then steps on the stairs.

He pulled out abruptly, smoothed her skirt and his kilt as the steps got louder. She straightened, as if examining the texture of the stone column, he staring at an inscription on the wall.

An elderly gentleman in a dog-collar smiled at them: Good morning. Isn’t it a fascinating chapel?

Yes indeed, Reverend. Red’s Canadian. She was just telling me she has never been in such an ancient building before.

Ah well, of course this isn’t the oldest part of the building. In fact this is quite new, sixteenth century, an extension that was never completed. It was really the foundation for a new transept, but the extension was, ahem, interrupted by the reformation, never built. The oldest part of the cathedral is the crypt under the east end, where St Kentigern was buried.

Thank you so much, now I must go see that, and she grabbed Sandy’s hand and pulled him up the stair. Christ that was close hon.

I could have fucked you whilst he watched, he growled. If that’s coitus interruptus, I don’t want it again!

Mm, fraid he cooled me off quite a lot, maybe I’ll wait for a quieter venue for my first churchfuck. She shivered. I think I’ve had enough cathedral for now Sandy, what about the old house?

OK, Provand’s Lordship, its right across the road: this way Madam.

An ancient stone-built three-storey house, the doorway so low she had to stoop. Folks didn’t grow so tall six hundred years ago, Sandy remarked. And remember, this was the house of a rich man, this was the high life in medieval Glasgow. They explored the house, full of ancient heavy wooden furniture and hidden stairways. The bedroom was huge.

Guess from what you told me there was some corrupt sex in here too, eh?

Aye, nae doot, and he pushed her against the wall, her back to him, fingers on her tight arse. And now there’s going to be some more. Bend and open your legs wench. A new sense of command in his voice.

She wriggled her legs apart obediently: but Sandy, I’m not so hot now, that guy in the cathedral kinda dried me out.

He was spreading her bumcheeks with his fingers, touching her anus so she involuntarily clenched tight. That’s a fine arse wench. The senior churchman who lived here would have been careful how he fucked his lassies. Pregnancy wasn’t on the agenda — he put his finger in his mouth, probed her asshole wetly — so often buggery was their way. So I need to bugger you Red. He was panting.

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