Swinging in a Kilt

24 Oca

Swinging in a Kilt



It was about 11 pm, after dinner and a long day of work I felt like going for a walk in the neighborhood of my hotel in Paris. Ambling out with nothing special in mind, I suddenly realised that I was pretty close to a club that I had been to several times, the Cupidon, and the idea began to grow in me that it would be fun to pay a visit. Within minutes, my legs had found the right direction and had placed me in front of the door.

At the reception the attractive and smiley mini-skirted young woman asked me with a glint in her eye if I would like to wear a kilt. Huh? Why? Well, she explained, it was kilt night. So on kilt night there was a special game which most people joined in. Did I want to try? Well, sure, why not?

The first thing was to put on the kilt, and that was a lot of fun in itself because she helped me to put it on. At her instigation I took off my trousers, and then my boxers, which revealed that my cock was semi-erect – how could I help it, her smile was so enticing?? Of course the kilt had to be worn Scottish-style, with nothing underneath. She then wrapped the kilt around my waist, helping to adjust the fit, and giggled at my mixed-up state of embarrassment and excitement. My kilt was tenting by then, and there was not much I could do to hide it.

She was also wearing a little kilt and of course I couldn’t resist asking if she was going Scottish as well. She giggled and flashed me her lacy black panties. But we weren’t finished yet. So I had my kilt on, its misshapen state giving away my hard-on none too subtly, and she pointed to a set of dishes, each containing a different colour of elastic hair-bands.

“Choose your colour” she said, “which do you prefer? Take four from any dish.”

So I took four orange elastics and then came her next instruction:

“Now put them around your dick. Our women guests are collecting hair-bands tonight, and they want to complete the full set of different colours. They are trying to collect all ten colours, so I am sure that some of them are going to be interested in your orange elastics.”

She grinned and sent me on my way to the main room downstairs.

As for me, I was grinning all the way down the stairs into the main room. Looking around, the place seemed quite well populated. Not busting at the seams, but quite a few people were spread around, couples mostly. The atmosphere was friendly rather than throbbing. And then I noticed the guys. Well I don’t usually notice the guys, that’s not my thing, but in this case what drew my attention was that the guys were all wearing kilts, just like me. Like me they seemed to be enjoying it, and the women were also looking amused.

So I settled in, I fetched a drink from a bar and found a place to sit near a blonde forty-something woman. She was smiley, quite large without being fat and we started chatting. Angela was her name. I soon realised that she was American and we switched to English. She was with her French husband.

I confessed to her that it was the first time that I was wearing a kilt, but I was quite enjoying the new experience. She gave me a loud laugh and said that was what happened when guys wore a skirt for the first time.

“So what colour are your elastic bands?”

“Orange” I told her.

“Oh, cool, I don’t have that yet.”

She showed me half a dozen elastics on her wrist, none of which was orange.

“Well maybe I can give you one,” I said.

I could feel my dick perking up as though he knew we were talking about him. She didn’t hesitate a second before putting her hand under my kilt, gently feeling up my cock and then removing an elastic while always looking me in the eye.

“Thank you,” she said, as she adjusted her new orange elastic to her wrist.

“Oh, so that’s all?” I asked, “No kiss, no nothing?”

“Oh, of course” and within a second her tongue was playing with istanbul travesti mine.

“There you go, thanks!”

I laughed. That had felt great. The whole interaction. The chat, her hand on my stiff cock, the warm wet kiss, the relaxed attitude. The moment was over but I was still grinning when I got up, with one elastic less on my cock, to have a wander around.

The music was great and I felt like dancing. There were several couples and a few women dancing alone on the floor and i joined them nonchalantly. I hadn’t really thought about it but I soon discovered that of course dancing with a kilt on, with my cock and balls freely swinging underneath, was a wonderful feeling. I really enjoyed that for several minutes, just concentrating on the music and on the feeling of freedom under my kilt, that sense that there was just a thin layer of cloth covering up my cock as it throbbed gently.

One song later and the music changed to a salsa, and so I took advantage of a lady who ahd been dancing near me by putting an arm around her waist and inviting her to dance. She was about my age, a bit over fifty perhaps, with short black hair, very elegant, and her eyes smiled warmly, as much as her lips did. Even though by that stage we were both swaying to the music, she expressed some reluctance.

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance to this music.”

“That’s ok” I told her, “I don’t either.”

She smilingly accepted my hand, while with my other hand I pulled her waist towards me. That was the point at which my cock decided to become alive again, as it felt the warmth of her body pressing against mine. I confessed that I was surprised at my cock’s eagerness and it was too late to hide it.

“Oooh la la!” she exclaimed, which is a wonderful French way of expressing surprise and delight.

We both had a good laugh as I explained that I was not really used to dancing with a kilt on and that it had unexpected effects.

Just as we had told each other, neither of us were very knowledgeable about the right steps, but we both had a lot of fun trying to make our bodies follow some kind of order while at the same time being distracted by my cock bulging inside my kilt. I held her tight to me as we swayed as best we could to the salsa rhythm, and caressed her back whenever the occasion appeared. Feeling a pantyline at the bottom of her back, I commented that unlike me she was not following the Scottish tradition.

“Oh no, you’re wrong” she said, “I left my panties at home. What you are feeling is the girdle that is there to keep my stockings up.”

Again I could feel my cock throbbing against her, but it seemed to me that the best way to udnerstand the situation properly was to put my hand up her skirt, and I was delighted to find that she was absolutely right. No panties! Gently I stroked her lightly hairy cunt with my finger, feeling her moist slit as she looked into my eyes with a vindicated expression and I disguised my delight with feigned shock.

When the music changed we hugged and I led her back to her seat where her husband was waiting for her. She introduced us and he shook my hand in a friendly way. That was good. I didn’t feel like dealing with a jealous husband. Not that you find so many of them in swinger clubs. We chatted a bit about this and that, and then of course I asked her if she was also collecting elastic bands.

“Oh yes”, she said, opening her little handbag to reveal several elastics that she had knotted together.

“Up to now I have already conquered all these!”

“Nice, but I see that you are missing an orange one.”

“Yes, I need an orange one. Do you know where I can find one?”

“Well, maybe I have one for you, how about if you check?”

She grinned, and as at that point I was standing and she was sitting, it was very simple for her to lift my kilt and to check out my cock, istanbul travestileri which of course was hard again, having heard the conversation.

She took no further encouragement. In a second she had my cock in her mouth, right there in front of everyody, including her husband, who smiled at his wife’s delicious sluttiness. This went on for a few minutes, but then I thought we had better stop because she was good at what she was doing and I did not want to cum just yet. Too much else to do, the night was young! So she pulled an elastic off my cock and smiled at me

“One more trophy, merci!”, she said.

I kissed her long and tenderly on the mouth and went off for another wander around.

The atmosphere was increasingly warm and friendly, and I chatted with various fellow swingers, managing to lose my other two orange elastic bands into the hands of the ladies who had become eager collectors. The kilt and hairband combination was transformative for normal modes of behaviour. The women had become emboldened and with a glint in their eyes they would lift my kilt, or allow their wandering hands to explore underneath it in order to check if my cock had anything for them. Being polite, they would then give me a kiss or a quick suck of the cock as a way of saying thank you. It was becoming one hell of a night!

So by then I was out of elastics around my cock, and decided to head to the bar for a drink. At the counter I joined a small group that was exchanging small talk, but I was mostly intersted in a woman that I had managed to squeeze a place next to. She wasn’t young, early forties maybe, but she was very pretty with sparkly green eyes, and a delectably elegant body, with long legs, perfectly hand-shaped boobies, and her slim form was very sexily encased in a black lacy body suit. I understood that she was English – from Birmingham, she told me – but she was married to a Frenchman and had lived in France for many years. Apparently she came often to Cupidon. I don’t know anything about what she did in life, but to my mind she was probably an executive, maybe a CEO, quite upper-class, and she appeared to be very competent and decisive.

So, since I am decent-looking but not drop-dead gorgeous, I find that the best thing about chatting to a woman you want to fuck is if you can get her to laugh, and fortunately with Jane, for that was her name, this was easy. We talked and laughed and laughed and talked, while I appreciated the way that the transparencies of her body-suit showed off her total sexiness, with her boobies almost spilling out of the top. As we came round to the theme of the evening, I lamented to her that I had lost all of my elastics, and would have to go back upstairs to fetch some more.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll suck you off anyway” she replied cheerily.

The courseness of her language struck a contrast with her elegant demeanour. And no sooner had she said that than she came through on her word, lifting up my kilt and fulfilling her promise right there as I leant against the bar counter.

She absolutely knew what she was doing, licking the shaft of my cock up and down, swallowing the head in her warm wet mouth, sucking my balls. Wonderful! A few minutes later she came back up, saying that it was time for a refreshing sip of her drink.

“Sure, enjoy your drink” I said, “but maybe I can also give you some tender loving care.”

And with that I went down on my knees, lifted the short skirt of her body suit, and pulled aside her string panties, penetrating her moist pussylips with my tongue. With her hand on the back of my head she encouraged me to pleasure her while she resumed conversation with our neighbours, and I indulged myself, exploring all the contours of her lips and her clitty and enjoying the sweet scent and flavour of her pussy juice.

A little while later she urged me to travesti istanbul rise, saying “Come”, and taking my hand and that of another guy she led us to a large vinyl-covered red bed in an open alcove in the passageway between the two main areas of the club. The other fellow was around 40, and quite athletic and handsome, but his most notable feature was a large cock, which had already been hanging out of his pants (no kilt in his case) as we stood at the bar. The three of us stripped off quickly, and I could see that his body was completely shaved. It was obvious that he was proud of his cock, which was fair enough, so he should be. She rolled him onto his back and knelt down to take the large phallus into her mouth, lifting her bum for me to slide my head under her and reach the depths of her pussy with my tongue. That is one of my absolutely favorite things to do, eating pussy, playing around with my tongue, discovering the secret spots that are different for each woman. We maintained this position for quite a while, and I learned how to pleasure her, where she most liked me to caress and how, occasionally pushing my fingers into her soaking puss, sometimes rubbing my thumb on the rosebud of her little asshole, constantly sucking her clitty and running around it with the tip of my tongue.

After some time the guy with the horse-cock had become involved with a woman from another couple that had joined us on the bed and so my English girl, Jane, was left all for my enjoyment. Actually, to be accurate, she was dedicating herself entirely to being pleasured by me. She moaned shamelessly as I explored each little nook and cranny of her widely displayed cunt, lying on my back as she sat on my face. By this stage my kilt had risen up, and my cock was resting on my stomach, sometimes lifting up with excitement, exposed to the full view of passersby. My view was entirely taken up by Jane’s open legs, but I could hear the people walking by, sometimes stopping to enjoy the view and to comment.

We must have been twenty or thirty minutes like that, but the biggest surprise of the night was yet to come. Or cum, as you prefer. Jane was moaning continuously, but there was a point when suddenly there was a burst of intensity in her sounds and with no further warning I felt a gush of hot sweet liquid flowing over my lips, my cheeks, and down over my neck.

“Oh my god, oh my god”, she kept repeating.

I could feel her orgasm coming closer and closer but when it finally arrived it was massively wet. With her orgasm she squirted a massive load, such as I had never experienced. I kept licking her, gently, until her shuddering stopped and she fell over onto her side, with her legs spread wide to show her red and swollen cuntlips.

I could now see the people who had been watching, and who were enjoying the spectacle of her open legs as she lay there with closed eyes, recovering her breath. I kissed her on the mouth once she was able to breathe again, and playfully gave her some soft little slaps on her soaking pussy, enjoying the sound of her wetness.

“I wasn’t expecting that one” I said, smiling at her.

“Nor was I” she exclaimed, with a mischievous grin.

It was getting pretty late by then, and after cuddling for a while I said that I was going to have to leave soon.

“No, wait” she said, “we haven’t finished.”

Taking my cock into her experienced hands she quickly made it hard again, and wrapped her warm mouth around it.

“I want you to cum in my mouth just like I did to you.”

Well, she didn’t have to wait long. I was so excited at everything that had happened that night, and she was sucking my cock with such wonderful talent that within a couple of minutes I was ejaculating against the back of her throat. Instead of pulling away she kept sucking the juice out of me, ensuring that she could taste all of the very last drops of cum, while the folks passing by could enjoy the scene of my legs trembling.

One hell of a night, that was! I am soooo looking forward to being able to enjoy another kilt night, but somehow I suspect it will never be as good as this memory.

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