The Craftsman

One day, after Lady Elizabeth and I had what I will euphemistically call 'made love' and we were both left a quivering mess, sweating, and exhausted, we were talking as she got dressed again.

'I'm having some friends over for next weekend,' she announced casually. 'It would be really lovely if you could join us.' She looked at me as she said it, then paused, as she pulled her panties up. I must have looked surprised if not downright dubious because she added. 'Don't worry, my husband is off in Dubai, or somewhere equally Arabic, adding to his millions, and it will all be very discreet. No one will know we're lovers. I'll just introduce you as a family friend from Scotland.' Well that was no problem, since I'm Scottish, and most English people, especially the upper classes, can't tell one Scots accent from another, and therefore can't figure out what our social class may be.

So, I thought, 'why not?' and it would be a different experience for me. 'You'll have your own bedroom of course,' she added, 'but I'll make sure it's close to mine if you wish to partake...' she trailed off, her strange quirk of becoming embarrassed taking over. It was one of the little things I loved about her. She could be as brazen as it was possible to be in the throes of sex, but in everyday conversations she often seemed quite embarrassed and shocked by things she said and did. I found it quite endearing, but then, I found everything about this woman endearing.

Before accepting I only had one question to ask, 'Am I the only guest who will be invited to your bedroom, or who's bedroom you will be sleeping in?' I knew she occasionally had other lovers, as did I, but I wanted to be sure there would be no dramas or complications to spoil my time with her. She actually looked shocked and hurt before she answered most emphatically that I was the only one on the guest list who would be sharing 'sleeping' arrangements with her. She added that she wanted

me,

and she emphasised

me,

specifically

me

, to be there, and she's rather it was just me and damn the rest of the guests.

As she said it she came to me and took me in her arms affectionately as if to reassure me. However, she explained, considering her marital status, having just me there wasn't a sensible option, so she was taking this opportunity to use the other guests as a smokescreen; an excuse to be with me during this weekend. I felt like shit for saying what I said, and took her in my arms again, holding her tightly and apologising, adding by way of explanation that the plain simple truth was, I'd hate to be vying for her attention with someone else when I wanted her all to myself. She kissed me then, a tender, loving kiss. Invitation accepted!

Lady Elizabeth's place turned out to a very grand house in the country, set in beautiful parkland. It was like something you would see in one of those historical TV dramas, like 'Downton Abbey.' The driveway alone must have been a mile long, twisting and turning between mature trees and woodland, opening up to show the lake and various Neo-Classical 'follies' which I knew were all the rage back in the 18

th

century. This wasn't just 'money' this was what was known in the upper echelons of British society as, 'old money,' in other words, those with an aristocratic ancestry, and despite my egalitarian leanings, I have to say I was impressed.

Lady Elizabeth had asked me to be there between 3-4pm, and I was there right on time as she suggested, and was met at the door by of all things, a butler. I knew they were well off, but I didn't realise until I saw the house, the grounds, and the butler, that she was quite this rich and well connected. I was shown up to my room, and asked if I needed help to unpack, which I politely declined, but thanked the maid for her offer.

I was looking around the bedroom, which was big enough to play tennis in, or five-a-side-football, (soccer, to my American friends) when there came a light tap at the door, and Lady Elizabeth popped her head round the door.

'Are you decent?' she asked as she came in, smiling that devastating smile of hers, which if the truth be told always made my heart beat a little faster. I confirmed that I was indeed 'decent,' adding that I hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed. 'Later sweetheart,' she promised smiling at me, taking me in her arms, then kissing me and rubbing my cock through my trousers so I would be in no doubt as to what, 'later,' would bring. 'We're just meeting in the library for drinks in five minutes or so, if you're ready come down with me now, and I'll introduce you to everyone. One last thing before we go down, I did tell you that we'll be dressing for dinner, didn't I?' she asked, and I assured her that she had, and I had the appropriate attire pointing to the suit bag hanging over a chair. 'Oh good,' she laughed, 'I only asked because it may have proved embarrassing for you otherwise, and I would really hate that because I want you to have a really lovely weekend.'

I was introduced to her friends, most of whose names I promptly forgot, and made polite conversation with them in the magnificent surroundings of the library. Mostly stockbroker types and minor local aristocracy. Two or three of the women were most fuckable, very classy, but fuckable all the same. One in particular seemed to take a shine to me, and her name was Theresa, pronounced Ter-ay-za. I forget her surname, but it doesn't matter. She was medium height, about five'5" tall, with long black shiny hair, and a flawless, but slightly olive complexion. I learned later that she was of Spanish origin, which accounted for the black hair and skin colour. She was very slim, but busty too, and had a nice bottom with slim, shapely legs.

Her eyes were a very dark brown, clear and shiny, and although her nose was a little bit on the big side, it suited her face, giving it that little bit of character that I find attractive and essential for true beauty. I have a 'thing' about hands and teeth, and her hands were very elegant and artistic looking just as I like them, and she had a full lipped sensuous mouth and white even teeth. In short, she was beautiful, and a complete contrast to Lady Elizabeth. She stood very close while talking to me, her generous breasts occasionally brushing my arm, her lovely hands, constantly in motion as she talked, often came to rest on my forearm too - she was very tactile. I wanted to lay her down on the huge leather couch and fuck her, but decided it may be best to stay within the normal bounds of appropriate behaviour on this occasion.

When she asked me what I did, I told her I was in fashion, but unfortunately, being a woman, she wanted to know more. I just told her that I worked mainly in leather, trying to be as vague as possible, so she asked me which shops I supplied. I explained that I didn't supply shops, mine was more of a very exclusive, bespoke, made to measure business rather than mass market. Lady Elizabeth must have sensed I was struggling and came to the rescue.

'That was close,' I confided, as she dragged me away, and smiled conspiratorially.

'I'll have to watch her,' she whispered, 'she loves cock, and her stinking rich hubby can't cope with her. She's a lovely woman really, one of my best friends. She was the one who said I looked as if I were fucking the saddle when riding. The bitch,' she whispered affectionately with a smile, so I knew she didn't mean it, 'we can't all have been trained in horsemanship at a top Spanish riding school. She sits the horse very elegantly.' I winked at her and wondered out loud if she would sit on my cock very elegantly too, and Elizabeth burst out laughing. Everybody turned to look, but we just smiled back mysteriously.

We mingled and chatted for about an hour, but eventually my fellow guests began to drift off, and very soon, we went up to dress for dinner. It was still two hours away yet, so I had a little nap on top of my bed first. I thought I may as well conserve my strength for later - it may prove a gruelling evening and night if things went the way I hoped they might.

Waking sometime later, I dressed for dinner and had just finished when I heard what I presumed was the dinner gong. I left my room, and descended the grand staircase, and as I reached the last three or four steps, lady Elizabeth swept hurriedly out of the drawing room, obviously going to check on something with the staff in the kitchens or wherever, and stopped dead in her tracks. Her smile lit up the hallway as she looked at me. I assumed she was looking with approval, and then she quickly glanced around the hallway to make sure there was no one within hearing distance. I had descended the last few steps and she came into my arms for a quick embrace.

'You... you look fucking magnificent,' she exclaimed joyfully, as I stood there in my full Scottish highland dress. Kilt, sporran, formal black dress jacket, white 'wing' collared shirt, bowtie, and waistcoat, with white knee length socks and cross laced highland brogues completing the ensemble.

'It's not too much?' I asked uncertainly, and she shook her head vigorously, still smiling. 'Only, this is what we wear for formal occasions in Scotland,' I explained.

'No, no, you look wonderful, a little unusual for this part of the world perhaps, but perfectly appropriate.' She kissed my cheek, and said quietly, 'and so fucking sexy, I'm wet already.' Realising what she'd just said, she blushed again, then laughed once more. 'I bet that fucking bitch Theresa will be soaking her panties too when she sees you.' On that note she escorted me to the dining room and we took our places.

My kilt and highland outfit seemed to meet with universal approval as we sat down to dine, and I found myself seated next to the lovely Theresa. I looked at Elizabeth and she gave me a smile and a little nod, just so I would know she had arranged the seating like this deliberately. As the dinner progressed, and a few glasses of wine were consumed Theresa became quite flirtatious, and I played up to her for all I was worth. After all I reasoned, I may get the opportunity to fuck her at some point this weekend, and I would never turn down that opportunity if I could possibly help it.

Of course, the banter round the dinner table soon came round, as it inevitably does to what a Scotsman wears under his kilt. In Scotland, the stock answer to the question, 'is anything worn under the kilt?' is, 'No, it's all in good working order,' which got a few laughs. Theresa pressed me for a better answer, and I answered her like this.

'Theresa, do you remember when you were a little girl at school?' and she replied that she did, so I continued. 'When you wanted to ask the teacher about something, a question, what did you do to catch her attention?' Without thinking, she replied, that she put her hand up of course. There was a moment's silence, then everybody laughed. Theresa blushed and playfully slapped my arm, laughing too, and that was the end of the kilt jokes. The conversation moved on and I thought that was that. After dinner we returned to the library for a few more drinks and pleasant conversation. It transpired that most of the party were going out riding next day, so the evening ended quite early.

As I made my way to my room, Theresa caught up with me.

'I'm still curious about what a Scotsman wears under his kilt,' she said smiling at me. 'Won't you please tell me?' I just smiled and shook my head.

'I can't tell you that Theresa,' I said, seemingly reluctant to divulge the secret and, "hamming it up," for all it was worth, 'we Scots are sworn to secrecy from an early age never to reveal what the answer is, but remember the story I told you about the little girl in school?' She nodded, looking slightly shocked. I think I even detected a little blush there.

'I can't do that,' she said emphatically, shaking her head. 'I just couldn't.'

'Well my dear Theresa,' I said, caressing the side of her beautiful face lightly but affectionately, 'you'll never know the answer, will you?' She smiled up at me nervously, shaking her head, looking up and down the deserted corridor.

'Really?' she said, sounding breathless now, and I nodded. She looked up and down the corridor again, making sure we were alone, then tentatively slipped her hand under the hem of my kilt. Her hand gently caressed my inner thigh as she reached higher and then she made contact with my naked balls and erect cock. She made a tiny squeal, and snatched her hand away as if scalded, blushing madly. I reached for her and took her into my arms and kissed her, and she kissed me back. The hand crept under the kilt again, and began to stroke me, a long and lingering touch this time. I let her play with my cock for a few minutes, before lifting her skirt higher and caressing her pussy in return. Elizabeth was right, her panties were soaking, and she was most definitely, 'in heat,' before I stopped. She was desperately disappointed when I stopped, but I told her, I wasn't going riding with the rest of the party next day, so if she stayed behind, made some excuse, I would come to her room, and we could conclude this unfinished business to our mutual satisfaction. She thought for a moment, obviously giving it some consideration.

'But I love to go riding,' she said unhappily, so I laid her possible choices before her.

'Well, do you want to ride a horse tomorrow, or do you want a man between your legs?' I asked her, quite crudely. I could see she was torn, so I left her to think about it, and made my way to my room and the delights of my lovely Lady Elizabeth.

I was sitting in an armchair in my bedroom, jacket and bow tie off, shirt collar unbuttoned, wondering how we were going to manage this. Would Elizabeth come to me, or did she expect me to come to her, but my questions were answered almost immediately when she unexpectedly appeared out of the bathroom.

'There's a connecting door silly,' she said smiling at me, explaining that the bathroom was accessible from both her room and mine. 'I'd never arrange it so we could be seen moving from room to room in the corridor. What took you so long?' she asked as she came and sat beside me, snuggling in real close.

'Theresa waylaid me in the corridor, asking about what's worn under the kilt again, so I let her have a feel.' She laughed, putting her hand under my kilt too, lifting it up waist high, just like I had done with her skirts on so many occasions, and without further preamble bowed her head low and sucked me into her beautiful mouth. It felt simply sublime as she gently stroked me with those educated hands of hers, while her mouth seemed to worship my hardness.

'Mmm... was she excited to find this?' she asked when she came up for air. I confirmed that she was if the wetness of her pussy was any indicator. 'Are you going to fuck her?' she asked me, all the time gently rubbing me up and down.

'Do you want me to?' I asked, 'because I wouldn't touch her again if you preferred me not to, or if it upset you?' She thought about it for a little while.

'Yes, I think that might be fun, but you must treat her exactly as you treat me, call her a slut, a whore, smack her bottom, pull her hair, be her master in every way. Will you do that for me?' and I assured her I would.

'But in the meantime, m'lady, and more importantly,' I said, turning my attention to her, 'is there anything worn under

your

beautiful dress?' She hoisted it waist high to reveal sheer black stockings and nothing else. 'That's lovely, now just lie down on the bed like the slut you are, and spread your fabulous legs for me.' Without hesitation she stood up and walked the few short steps to the bed and did as I asked, while I got undressed. As she lay back on the bed, the silky material of her dress slid back up around her waist as she bent her knees and spread her legs. She was a glorious sight, an erotic dream, and once again I realised just how lucky I was to be the lover of this fabulous woman.

'Oh, hurry please, I need you inside me. I've been thinking about this all day; my pussy has been soaking wet for hours, I'm literally aching for you. I worried that I may soak my dress, I was leaking so much.' I told her just to rub herself while I was undressing and she immediately set to work, eyes closed, but knowing I was watching her, rubbing frantically at her lovely shaven pussy, spreading her juices all over. Before I got my kilt, and sporran off, I heard the familiar announcement.

'Oh god, oh yes, I'm coming,' and I paused to watch her fingers delving into the spectacularly wet pussy and her hips moving up and down fucking her own hand. She came for ages, what with all that pent-up sexuality released at last, but I knew she wasn't finished just yet. There was a lot more coming to be done on this bed before the night would be through.

'Just leave your dress on m'lady, but get on your knees like one of your favourite horses,' I ordered, and she got on her knees, still wearing that fabulous dress but pulled up over her arse, exposing the exquisite bottom and pussy for me. I went to my suitcase, and came back with a little surprise for her. 'I've brought a gift, made especially for you,' I announced. The leather straps fitted around her head perfectly, and she laughed realising what it was, and then I pushed the bit between her teeth.

'Are you going to ride me?' she slobbered excitedly, the, 'bit,' curtailing easy speech.

'Ride you? I've entered you for the fucking Grand National, and The Ken-fucky Derby. It's going to be a long hard ride if you can stay the distance.' She made a little whinnying noise, laughing and getting into the spirit, and then I slid my cock into her. I showed her the riding crop I'd also made specially for her, and she tossed her head as it slapped across her buttocks. She pushed back, fucking me. 'And they're off,' I exclaimed, just like they do at the start of a horse race. Twice she came so violently that she almost threw me off, but I managed to stay with her, thrashing the delectable bottom harder when she came. Eventually, I couldn't hold out much longer, and announced that we were coming up to the finishing line, and as I came, I announced that Lady Elizabeth was first over the winning line, with, 'My-Cock,' very close behind. We both collapsed, laughing on the bed, both of us well and truly fucked.

After a while, she slipped off her dress and we both got between the sheets, just enjoying each other's company, touching and caressing.

'It's nice to be in bed with you after all the times we've made love in your shop,' she said. I knew what she meant, this was much more leisurely, and not so rushed as our usual love making sessions, and all the more enjoyable because of it. It gave me more time to see her as the woman she was, study her beautiful face and hair, touch her soft skin, talk to her for a change, and just be more... intimate, I suppose was the word. We eventually fell asleep in each other's arms, but she woke me very early by the simple method of sucking my cock into hardness again. Needless to say, it led to a full-on morning fuck, but this time we went at it a lot more tenderly and lovingly than normal. She seemed to enjoy it and came just as often.

After breakfast, when I had returned to my room, she knocked and came in dressed in her full riding gear.

'Poor Theresa can't come riding this morning, she's not feeling well it seems, but I suppose that just means she's decided to do her riding in the bedroom,' she laughed.

'Are you sure you don't mind?' I checked again, and she said it was fine, but just make sure I used her, and used her really hard she added. She wanted to see her look, 'distressed,' when she sat down to dinner that evening. She kissed me again, and wished me good luck Theresa, and then she was gone.