1. Deryk (2) - If Kilts Are Your Thing.......


    Date: 9/1/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, Ass to mouth, Domination/submission, Extreme, Gay, Hardcore, Monster, Violence, Author: Bulge Voyeur, Rating: 25, Source: sexstories.com

    along the lines of his feeling cooler if I were to divest him of his Arran sweater and heavy kilt but I thought the better of it – for now at least. Instead, I simply nodded and got up to follow him, as the pleats of his kilt swayed seductively from side to side and he headed for the door. He was right; it was a beautifully clear, romantic night as we stood in the cold night air, gazing up at the stars and pointing-out to each other the constellations and their major stars; the unmistakable “W” of Cassiopeia high in the north-east; the brightness of Arcturus in the west and above us, Deneb, Vega and Altair, the stars of the “Summer Triangle”; and of course, the “Plough”, Ursa Major, the “Great Bear” and its pointer to the Pole Star, Polaris. He seemed to recognize just as many of them as I did, and I was impressed by his knowledge and interest; it made me feel even closer to him. A full moon glowed low in the sky from behind a few wisps of thin cloud. An owl hooted. “What are you planning tomorrow?” he asked, “Have you seen the Old Man yet?” He was hoping I would misunderstand his ambiguous reference to the “Old Man of Storr” but I spoiled his attempt to tease me as I went on to tell him of my own plans. He nodded his approval and thought for a moment. “The guys I was talking to in the bar earlier,” he said, “told me that the ridge behind the Old Man rises to more than two thousand feet. It’s a longer trek of course but if it’s clear, the view’s well worth the effort - or so ...
    I was told.” He went on to describe the rather hazardous path they had told him to take from the road instead of following the established tourist path up to the Old Man. He dismissed my protestations that it sounded treacherous. “Well, that’s what I thought I would do, at any rate,” he finally asserted. The full moon bathed the surrounding heather and the distant glen in a soft bluish light, while our breath made little clouds of vapour against the night air. A shooting star tore across the sky and disappeared behind the hill above the little hotel and I sighed and shivered in the cold. My Scotch was now gone and I was only wearing a cotton shirt. It was at that moment that he moved closer to me and slid his arm around my shoulder, turning me towards him and enfolding me with his other arm. Willingly, I fell against him and put my arms inside his sweater to hug his warm body, clad underneath only in a tee-shirt. Once again, I was enveloped in his masculine scent which, enhanced by his subtle use of a familiar musky cologne, seemed to enwrap me in the safety of a warm blanket. My face found a home against the soft comfort of his shoulder. “I missed you,” I whispered. “I think it’s time we went to bed, don’t you?” he said. He went on ahead up the stairs and I followed behind, mesmerized by the tantalizing treat of his kilted rear. His strong hairy legs clad in chunky woollen socks disappeared into that unknown region beyond the swaying pleats of his Skye Tartan and I couldn’t ...
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