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It was 1958, I was 18 years old and I had been staying with my cousins Megan and Morag in their cottage at Cairncarron over the summer. My Aunt had left us alone for a couple of weeks to look after a sick friend.
On Tuesday Morag asked me to deliver a letter to Colonel McAllister’s widow who lived in a big Edwardian house on the edge of the village. I had to arrive there promptly at 2pm. I reached her home and rang the door bell. From inside I heard the clatter of high heeled shoes crossing a wooden floor and as the door opened I was greeted by a smart, tall lady, probably in her early forties, who was clearly dressed as if she were expecting guests.
She spoke with an air of superiority and authority in a loud Edinburgh accent. “Is it Davy?” she said and I told her it was, and that Morag Shaw had sent me over with a letter. She opened it, read it quickly, smiled to herself, and placed it on the hall table. “Do come in,” she said “and sit you down here by the door”.
She looked me up and down noticing that I was quite short and skinny for an eighteen year old and at least four inches shorter than she was, despite her high heels.
“Mmmm” she said, and stroked her chin.
I noticed that both her hair and makeup were immaculate and she wore an expensive fragrance. I felt aware that I appeared disheveled, untidy and that my clothes were specked with mud from my walk from the cottage.
She asked me if I’d like some tea, then turned smartly on her patent leather court shoes and clattered off towards the kitchen. She had quite a large curvaceous bottom above exceptionally long shapely legs. She wore a black woolen sweater over an expensive green and navy tartan pleated full skirt which ended just below the knee. I wondered what was in Morag’s letter so grabbed it and read its contents before putting it back hurriedly. She had written the following.
“Dear Mrs. McAllister. This is Davy, my cousin. As I mentioned recently, he is skilled with his tongue and doesn’t mind being between a lady’s legs or under her skirts. He may need a bit of encouragement as he is quite shy for an eighteen year old boy but he is clearly an expert in providing oral pleasures for ladies as my sister and I have both found out. I hope you all find him satisfying. Kind regards, Morag Shaw.”
When she returned with the tea Mrs. McAllister told me that I could call her Mary and smiled condescendingly. She sat opposite me on another old chair in the large hallway. She slowly crossed her exceptionally long legs and I saw something delicately edged with lace peeping out from under the hem below her knee which then disappeared as she smoothed her pleats down again. She noticed that I was looking at her and glanced at me and at a small bulge in my trousers. The atmosphere was electric.
She enquired whether I was enjoying my stay in Craigcarron and I smiled and said that I enjoyed the peace and quiet. “It can be too peaceful,” she remarked, particularly after her husband had died, almost ten years previously. She looked at my trouser bulge again. She complained that there were few gentlemen in the village of her age and she had to make do with the company of other single ladies.
She smoothed down her skirt picking off a speck of fluff. I heard the ticking of a large clock on the mantel shelf and I was aware of the sound of laughter and ladies voices coming from somewhere in the house but it may have been a radio.
“Davy, can I ask you to do something for me?” My heart skipped a beat as I wondered how she was going to bring up the ‘delicate matter’ mentioned in Morag’s letter. “Yes,” I said going red in the face. “Would you mind looking at my chair leg? It appears a bit loose whenever I sit on it.” She said smiling at me.
The hallway chair did look a bit wobbly and I got down on my hands and knees to take a closer look as Mrs. McAllister slid her knees to one side. I moved forward so my head was almost touching her seat cushion, and at the same time felt the bracing on the chair’s underside. She got up and leaned over me to inspect what I was doing. Standing against my shoulder her skirt rubbed against my face. I moved to one side, brushing against her tartan pleats so I could see under her chair more clearly.
“It may need a steel brace to strengthen it”
“Really?” she said smiling down at me, this time leaning heavily against my shoulder and moving her lower leg firmly against my upper arm. She stared canlı bahis intently at my mouth and nose, and also my trouser bulge and I could tell she had other things on her mind. She leered at me wickedly.
“Really Davy, well I never,” she said with an almost predatory expression. Her hand slowly rubbed her knee under her skirt and exposed a very deep delicately crisp white lacy petticoat hem which vanished instantly as she dropped her skirt down again. Her hem was tantalizingly close to me and my mind raced as I wondered what were the rest of her underthings like, hidden under all those delicious pleats? My heart was thumping with excitement as I visualized running my fingers up her legs under her skirt.
She turned and positioned herself in front of me so that my head was pushed firmly against her plaid-clad knees. She nudged my head downwards with her left knee so I was left staring at the hall floor between her feet. Her long legs moved apart slightly. I felt her plaid skirt moving sensually over an underskirt which in turn slid against her stockings making a froufrou sound as she eased herself against my head.
“Davy, put your head up my skirt if you’d like to… I’d like you to very much,”
In a state of unbelievable excitement I lowered my head to her feet and kissed her shoes, becoming aware of strong female aromas above me. Clearly Mrs. McAllister was pleased to having an eighteen year old boy at her feet. I became conscious of a gradual stiffness in my penis as it extended fully. My head pushed upwards between her stockinged ankles running my cheeks against the exquisite smoothness of her fine nylon hosiery. I slowed down my progress under her skirt, savouring every second of being between those very long and beautiful legs. The heat from her skin, and from beneath her skirt, was intense. I was intoxicated at being under a well groomed woman’s skirt. The hem of her pleats began to caress the nape of my neck as her shoes and slim ankles slid away below me. She squeezed, and then released, my face playfully with her legs as I continued my ascent. My head, under the zigzag concertina shapes of the skirt pleats, pushed further upwards. Her nyloned knees made swishing sounds as they arrested my progress.
“Davy, try and push your head under my underslip now” My penis became rock hard and was straining inside my trousers.
I saw, and then lifted, her loosely gathered white lacy petticoat hem using my head. I nuzzled my way upwards, feeling the starchy scratchiness of the deep lace edging passing over my head and hair as I ducked under. It was warm between the layers of white slippery nylon. My hostess appeared satisfied and happy with the situation, having her young guest under her skirt and also under her control.
Looking upwards, in the confined space, there was a truly erotic sight. Her stockings were help up by clips attached to silky white nylon suspenders delicately ornamented with fine lace. The suspenders contrasted starkly with the darker band of reinforced nylon stocking encircling both thighs. They brushed my face as I nibbled the soft exposed skin just below her knickers. Her odour was overpowering as I lapped at her upper thighs. The legs of her delicate silky white French-knickers had a wide lace edging which obscured the flesh above her stockings. The gusset was very loose and I could see soft hair peeping out as I moved my tongue under the stiff frilly hems between her legs.
“Davy, we must stop now so that we can save your energies for the other ladies.”
“What other ladies Mary?” I said, feeling both cheated and as if I, and Mrs. McAllister, had suddenly become partners in crime.
“The one’s who arrived earlier today and are waiting for you in the east wing.” I gasped and asked whether we just couldn’t finish our activities in the hall and then I could leave. Mrs. McAllister said that if I agreed to do what she said she would have a special treat for me later. I got out from under her skirt, stood up and said I would do whatever she or the ladies asked. She hugged me, smiled, and then put her arms around me leading me along a passageway across a lounge towards a pair of large double doors which led to the east wing.
“You had better get undressed here Davy, we don’t want them to see you in those muddy clothes do we?” I got undressed down to my underpants which were only just containing my erection. “I think we’ll take those off too.” She said and helped bahis siteleri me step out of them caressing my penis lovingly with her well manicured hands. My penis sprang out almost horizontally. She smiled at it licking her lipsticked lips.
Mary opened both doors and I was led into the room feeling very nervous, vulnerable and rather embarrassed. “Ladies, this is Davy, he’s Jenny Shaw’s wee nephew and has agreed to keep us ‘entertained’ for the rest of the afternoon.”
I looked round the room and saw six ladies probably the same age as Mrs. McAllister or slightly older. They all smiled and greeted me amiably, clearly pleased to see a young male. They stared at my penis which was bobbing around as I stood awkwardly. One lady who was much older than the rest, and had grey wavy hair shook me by the hand and then shook me by my penis saying with a big smile, ‘what a big willy for such a wee laddie’. They wore cardigans and sweaters over plaid, cotton or tweed pleated skirts with dark stockings as was the fashion in 1958.
Some were drinking tea by the window. A roaring fire and the two large sofas filled one end of the room. Most of Mary’s friends were taller than I and were told to sit by the fire where the sofas had been positioned. A large blanket and pillow lay between them.
The ladies sat down where their handbags were next to their seats. Mary told me to lie on the blanket, face up, with my head on the pillow. I was very embarrassed that my swollen erection seemed to be the centrepiece of the tableau. Mary stood over me smiling down, straddling my face, so that I had a clear view up her skirt and petticoat. My erection started twitching wildly.
“Ladies,” she said, “Davy here, as I mentioned on the phone yesterday, is a wee expert in providing pleasures with his tongue. He’s a bit shy just now, but I have had his head up my skirt and he is raring to go. Jean dear, do you want to go first as I know you need to leave early?”
“Aye.” said the older lady. She stood up and I could see her thick ankles in dark wrinkled brown stockings walking towards me. She looked very old and I wondered what she would smell like under her large skirt. She stepped over my head and placed her feet firmly each side of my head so I was lying with my face between her shoes. “Don’t worry laddie. She may be a bit wet and smelly down there but she certainly won’t bite!” “Oh my goodness, “I thought and prepared for the worse. My penis began to shrivel at the notion of my head being up an old lady’s skirt.
She raised her black tweed hem, and her cream coloured lacy underslip came into view. Her skirt smelled of mothballs. She lowered her heavy bottom and squatted over my face spreading her legs widely. The other ladies made encouraging comments. I was faced with deliciously flabby white thighs above thick brown stockings which were held up by cream coloured suspenders. These disappeared under cream coloured long lace-edged loose knickers. She smelled wonderfully of lavender but this was lost amongst the overwhelming odour from between her legs. She arranged her thick skirt at the back so that my head was invisible to the rest of the ladies. She shifted herself forward over my head so her knickers were pushed firmly into my nose. Instantly I could feel my penis stiffen again and heard the lady guests commenting on its size. Jean smiled down at me as she pushed herself further onto me. I breathed in her natural scent and eased my tongue enthusiastically into her crevice. I couldn’t believe my luck in having a real woman in front of me and within licking distance. All I wanted was to taste her juices. She pulled her knicker leg to one side and I started licking her outer lips and clitoral hood with enthusiasm. She flinched slightly then relaxed. She said laughingly that I was a good laddie and don’t stop until she said so.
The other ladies were chatting away in the background and I could hear one talk of marmalade, and another on houseplants. I heard Mary ask whether more tea was required. I could imagine how we must have appeared to them. Jean above me facing the fire, her pleated tweed skirt and petticoat over my face and upper body, grinding her genital area into my face, my penis on full view, twitching and straining, glistening with pre-cum and my legs bent, bucking up and down. I stroked my penis and started to wank slowly but someone grabbed my wrist and told me to keep that for later. I then felt several shoes on bahis şirketleri my arms pinning them down so I could not relieve myself.
Meanwhile Jean’s vaginal juices flowed onto my nose and into my eyes. She rocked on her heels holding onto my head for support. I closed my eyes my tongue concentrating on her inner lips and clitoris. She bucked and thrust her pubic area almost violently over my face which was drenched and smelled strongly of hot vagina. Then I felt her muscles tighten as she spasmed and had a loud orgasm which seemed to last for ages. Sweat was pouring off her and she climbed off me her knees cracking from the effort. “You’re a fine wee man Davy. My panties are drookit so I’ll have to clean myself up.” She smiled down at me almost in tears as she stepped over me.
“OK ladies who’s next? How about you Yvonne?” enquired Mary gleaming with pride.. Someone threw me a flannel and I wiped my face and picked out pubic hairs from my mouth. “Yvonne sat up and shook her dress out. She was much younger than Jean and had long black hair. She wore a pale blue cotton dress gathered at the waist which flared out and ended at her knees.
Towering above me she smiled sweetly and put both feet adjacent to my shoulders so I could clearly see up her dress. Her black-stockinged legs disappeared into a lacy mass of white stiff net petticoats. This was the fashion for younger women in the late 1950s. She then turned round so that her bottom swung over my face at the same time kneeling down, placing her shoes to either side of my head. She was wearing a very delicate pair of white French-knickers with deep edged lace decoration all over. Her knickers were semi-transparent and I was treated to a fantastic view of luxurious suspenders supporting very fine denier hosiery. Her perfume partially masked her natural womanly smell and she was clearly aroused. She backed over me on all fours and lowered her bottom onto my face her vagina facing me. She then shook all the multi-layered underskirts over me then smoothed down her dress to maintain her modesty in front of the others. My penis rolled around and then pointed vertically towards my navel, ramrod tight.
Someone passed her a cup of tea which she hurried finished before bending forwards again. I tried to grab hold of my penis but her legs blocked my approach. “Davy there’ll be no wanking now. You have to wait until later or else you’ll lose interest in us.” Said Yvonne. She came quickly and her underwear was soaked, as was my face again with more hairs stuck between my teeth.
Jean popped her head round the door just as I emerged from under Yvonne’s dress and waved a smiling cheery goodbye.
Next to stand over me was Betty; she must have been in her late fifties and had a long pleated plaid skirt over an expensive looking black lace edged petticoat. Her loose knickers were black and her suspenders too. In the firelight I could make out little detail as I stared up between her legs but as she lowered herself onto my upturned face I could see a thick bush of red pubic hair which stank strongly of vaginal juices. Clearly she had been worked up for some time. I tried to wank myself off but various hands gripped my wrists and held them firmly while Betty slid her pubic region vigorously over me nose and tongue for ages and ages. After what seemed like fifteen minutes a large volume of slimy juice gushed out and once again my face was drenched.
Following another face wiping with the flannel I was ready for Mary’s fourth guest. Her name was Maggie and she looked gorgeous. She had exceptionally thin features, very long legs with short blonde hair in a bob. Her legs disappeared under a thin pleated plaid skirt which covered a crisp white petticoat. Under this she wore tan stockings held up by a white plain no-nonsense suspender belt. She eased herself off the chair and stood over me. My eyes savoured every detail of her underwear until I noticed she was not wearing any knickers and I could make out beads of glistening moisture dribbling slowly down her inner thighs. ” Oh my goodness!” I gasped staring fixated while she swayed her skirt to and fro. My erection once again was straining and the other ladies were clearly ready to stop me from wanking myself into oblivion. Maggie smilingly teased me for some time before lowering herself onto me. My tongue went straight between her inner lips and licked her clitoral hood and exposed her clitoris to her evident satisfaction. Her warm juices flowed into my nostrils, across my chin and into my mouth. We set up a steady rhythm and she slowly orgasmed as she wiped her slippery inner lips across my tongue and nose.
(To be continued in Part Four)
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