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Afterwards, I retired to the comfort of the lounge, after first ordering a good 20 year-old malt whiskey from the bar – making sure that I did not give the locals grounds for offence by adulterating it with anything like ice, even though I would have preferred it that way! Slumped in a deep arm-chair by the fire, filled with my meal and warmed by the scotch, I began to feel mellow and rather sleepy. As I dozed, I became conscious of the figure of a kilted young man half-sitting on the arm of the sofa next to me. My eyes travelled upwards over his young, slightly hairy legs and tanned bare knees. He was wearing typical Highland hiking clothes: walking boots, thick woolly socks and an appropriate Skye Tartan kilt, complete with a rather worn leather sporran which now lay in his lap. He had on a chunky Arran sweater and he had a large tumbler in his hands with about half-an-inch of what looked like Scotch in the bottom. He raised Nipples the glass to his lips. It was Deryk – or rather, the somewhat elusive, mysterious and handsome young guy I had met months before in London and who seemed to have assumed the role of my erstwhile fantasy younger brother from childhood. “Hello,” he said, looking directly into my eyes with his piercing gaze. Then with that winning crooked smile of his he continued, “Glad to see we share the same tastes.” He cocked his head on one side, winked and raised his glass, as if to say a silent ‘Slangevar’ before sipping his scotch appreciatively. His eyes were deep-set beneath soft black eye-brows and against the fire glow they seemed almost lustrous, while the blues and greens of his tartan kilt seemed to reflect in their rich blue colour. Just as when I saw him months ago, he had the same short, wavy black hair which Natural tits flopped boyishly forward over his forehead and he had a soft facial complexion that included a carefully cultivated shadow-beard. He had lovely, kissable lips; a little weather-worn but plump and tasting slightly salty, I recalled, as I gazed back at him. Of course, years ago when I was pre-adolescent, he had been my younger brother and was always getting into trouble and scrapes from which I had to rescue him; rescues which usually, and significantly as it turned out, involved getting his clothes off – as well as various other naughtinesses of childhood. In those days, he would have been just a few years younger than me but he was now unaccountably still only in his mid-20’s while I was nearly 40. Evidently, the years had been kind to him! However, since the only brother I had known was the one of my young and fertile imagination, the mystery of who this guy really Big Boobs was still eluded me. After our last encounter in London a few months ago, he had disappeared again, leaving me none the wiser; his reappearance now would, you might think, have provoked a deeper investigation on my part but for some reason, this time I just accepted his being there. He was after all, fucking gorgeous and I fancied him like no-one else I had known. And in view of what happened last time, my mind was alive to the possibilities the night might have in store. “I was wondering when you were going to reappear,” I said, and returned his ‘Slangevar’ with a gesture and a sip from my own glass of scotch. The warmth of the malt nectar seemed to percolate through my body, as I gazed back into his blue pools of delicious and forbidden lust. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask what actually happened back at the park toilets that night – you know, after you vanished?” I said. His eyes narrowed as he screwed-up his face in an expression of pretend embarrassment. “Hmm – best not to really,” he affirmed, promptly changing the subject. “Fancy slipping outside for a breath of fresh air? It’s quite hot in here by the fire and it’s a lovely tittyfucking clear night out.” I was tempted to make a remark 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 big 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. Inspire them!” Pretty soon I saw white goo leaking out of her nostrils and running down over her pretty lips. Kevin’s reaction told everything. I came so hard. Or you can click to my profile and leave feedback through there. For the Nipples first time the man on the other side of the wall spoke "I dunno who Mark is but I'm sorry hun, theres a guy in here who I'm sure will be happy to finish you off though" he Big Boobs says with a laugh. “Thank you.” “When you are done with your shower, go through there,” he pointed to an adjoining room. “ Well Christy I know tittyfucking it unfair but has Jackie Grandma told me the law is the law. I thrust myself up to meet his thrust as he pushed his way into me. I knew that I was acting like a total whore, but I needed another orgasm. Can you believe that?” After a couple of minutes we started kissing and I turned sideways and sat on Ryan’s lap so that we Natural tits could still kiss and Ryan could have easy access to caress my tits and pussy. Don’t be afraid to big ask your ole mom for help with that great rod when you need to get off son. A few of the sisters clearly had “man issues,” most likely the result of some abusive male in their history. “Sweetie” she said. The other two men moved away to sit on the bed and watch.