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Kilted Pleasures

So... what does a true Scotsman wear under his kilt?

Tom Harding stood outside enjoying the cool evening air. Inside the hotel function room the air was stifling but with two hundred wedding guests it wasn’t any wonder. Suddenly he heard a female voice behind him. He smiled. He recognised her from among the guests. “Nice and cool out here isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It’s quite hot in there wearing this outfit.”

She smiled. “You quite suit a kilt,” she said referring to the Royal Stewart tartan outfit he was wearing.

“Thank you,” he responded shyly. “You look good too,” referring to the figure hugging dress she was wearing.

She smiled. “I hate weddings,” she said. “Never know what to wear. Glad I don’t go to many of them.”

“It’s much easier for guys,” he said. “It’s either a suit or a skirt.”

She laughed before looking thoughtfully at him. “Can I ask a question?”

“Go on.”

“You know what I’m going to ask don’t you?”

“If I had a tenner for every time I’ve been asked that tonight I would be able to afford a nice break in the sun.”

She laughed.

“And the damn thing is that its bloody women who ask,” he said with a smile. “It’s so unfair. If a guy asks a woman what she's wearing under her skirt at best he might get a slap but he’s also likely to get a hiding from her boyfriend or husband and quite possibly get done for sexual harassment.”

She laughed too as she stepped closer. “Yes, I agree with you,” she responded. “But if you ask this woman you might get an honest answer.”

He turned to her. He was tempted. She was very attractive and around his own age. He glanced down at her left hand and noticed that she was married too. “Okay then, what are you wearing under your dress?”

She smiled. “Well I always the wear the same coloured underwear as the outfit I am wearing.”

“Purple bra and panties?”

“Mauve actually.”

“Mauve then.”

“Silk and lace.”

He felt his cock stir under his kilt.

“And matching suspender belt.”

He was erect now as he glanced down at her legs.

“Lacy top ones.”

He sighed.

“And before you ask the other question that guys always ask I would need to see yours first.”

He felt his knees wobble.


Her laughter broke off his speech. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I shouldn’t tease like that.”

“No you shouldn’t.”

“Actually, I am serious,” she told him. “Do you have a room here?”

He felt like slapping himself to see if he really was awake. “Fourth floor. Room forty-three,” he told her.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Is... isn’t your husband here too?”

She smiled. “He’ll be propping up one of the bars telling dirty jokes.”


“I’ll just go and check on him and then... then I can check what a true Scotsman wears under his kilt.”

He smiled. “I’m not a true Scotsman,” he told. “Well, half really. Dad’s Scottish but mum is Irish.”

She laughed. “Well, I’ll still be checking anyway.”

He wanted to hold her and kiss her there and then but this was not the time or the place for that so he turned and left repeating, ‘Forty-three’ as he disappeared.

Upstairs Tom rinsed his mouth with mouthwash and dabbed some aftershave on his cheeks and sat on his bed waiting for the knock on his door. It came exactly on time and he got shakily to his feet to open his door. They stood and kissed for a few moments and then she sank down on her knees and took hold of the hem of his kilt. “May I?” she asked with smile.

“Do you think I would actually say no?”

She smiled again and lifted up the hem. “Fuck,” she exclaimed. “It’s huge.”

Tom reached down and grabbed the hem of his kilt as well so that she could free her hands to hold him. He cried out as her lips enveloped his thick cock while one hand gripped his manhood and the other cupped his testicles. He swayed momentarily as her hand began to move back and forth and then he let go of his kilt.

The reflection in his mirror showed him standing there looking dazed with a women kneeling in front of him with her head and shoulders covered by his kilt. But what the mirror couldn’t show were the waves of pleasure running through his whole being. Her gentle squeeze of his balls; her firm handling of his manhood as she masturbated him and the suction of her lips drawing his seed slowly from him was heavenly. As his moans grew louder her hand moved faster. His knees soon began to buckle and he had to rest his hands on her head to steady himself. Then suddenly he came with a loud cry.

It was many minutes later when she emerged from under his kilt. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; turned to the mirror and touched up her hair and then turned back and kissed him before heading for the door.

“Y... your promise?”

“Shaved,” she said with a smile.

“But... “

She turned raising her left hand and sticking up her ring finger. “Only my husband gets to check that out.”

Tom stood there stunned as the door closed behind her.




A couple of hours later they found themselves together again standing with the departing bride and groom. The bride gave him a hug and a kiss. “Thanks for everything, Dad,” she said before turning to her mum to hug and kiss her.

The groom held out his hand to Tom but he brushed it aside and gave him a hug instead. “I hope you’ll both be as happy as we are.” He told him.

The groom hugged and kissed the bride’s mum and then they left.

“Well Mrs. Harding, I think it’s time for me to check you out?”

“Room forty-three.” She smiled.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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