Celtic Games

It was a terribly hot summer afternoon the day of the Highland Games. 8 yards of wool pleated around 19 year old Renee's lithe frame was becoming most uncomfortable. All that lace and velvet on her jacket was even worse.

Renee had just finished the last dance of the day, the Hullachan, and was dying to get to a shady spot, strip to her tank style black body suit and cool off. They called the numbers, she placed in a few, got her medals and went in search of a cooler location to get relief.

All around her were bright flashes of tartan kilts. Other suffering Scots being tormented by the sun's merciless rays. So many pipers and drummers were there for the competitions and all were milling around the parade ground that Renee was crossing. She caught a few long glances from some of the men who were tuning their bagpipes, and she blushed. Making all that wool and velvet even more intolerable. Whether it was the extreme heat, or the fact that she hadn't eaten all day due to nerves before the competition, Renee felt a strange sinking sensation as everything before her got blurry.

The last thing she saw before sinking onto the dusty ground, was the concerned face of a handsome, rugged looking piper.

The rugged looking piper, was Dan. He quickly came forward and caught her in his arms. Daft girl, he thought. He thought he recognized her as one of the dancers he piped for in the competition. She probably didn't eat all day. He carefully cradled her in his arms and brought her under the shade.

Damn, now what do I do with her? He furtively looked around for someone who might be looking for her. He saw the crumpled competitors number on the front of her kilt. He checked it against the games Agenda. Ah, Renee Ferguson. He had played for her. And he knew her from other competitions.

He'd never seen any family there before to cheer her on. Odds were, there weren't any here this time either.

He looked down at her pale face. Long dark lashes dusted her cheeks. A few scant freckles played along her nose. Christ, she was cute. Didn't weigh more than a feather either. He then realized she'd passed out from the heat. Knowing that most dancers had tank suits on under their gear, he began to undo her jacket to allow her to be more comfortable. He felt almost like a mauler. This young, vulnerable female, under his care, unaware of what was going on. This idea made him hard. very hard. This was difficult to hide under a kilt. Thank god for the sporran! He reached the last clasp and opened the jacket, sliding it gently off her slim white shoulders. In doing this, the twist her hair was in undid, and tumbled down in dark auburn curls. He swallowed hard. She was hot! Like a small celtic fairy, she lay in his broad arms as though she was waiting to be woken with a kiss. He looked about. No one was near by, everyone was over at the booths and the competitions, and they were secluded under the branches of the big tree. He moistened his lips lightly, with his heart pounding as the big base drum in the band, he bent his head down and kissed Renee ever so softly on her beautiful pink mouth. He felt immediately bad. It was wrong for him to have taken that from her. For all he knew she'd never kissed a man before. He started to move away. Maybe get some water for her...until she grabbed the collar of his uniform, pulled him close, and kissed him as though she were sucking the very soul out of him. He was helpless, he felt a burn in his stomach and a great desire to rip every inch of wool off of her and fuck her right there under the tree.

She released him, and looked up dreamily into his dark brown eyes. How does one thank a piper for rescuing her from the heat? She batted her eyelashes at him. With a growl, he crushed her to him, devouring her mouth, sucking her tongue with a fiercness. He wrapped her long hair in his hands, kissing her over and over. She arched her back, pressing herself to him, she ran her hands up his bare legs, to his thighs, and under his kilt. It was true!

She began to stroke his cock to the granite state. It was perfectly shaped. Thick, throbbing and slightly moist at the tip. He let out a soft deep moan as he kissed her ear. His hand trailed down her shoulder to her breast. He slid his hand inside the strap of her tank, and slid the strap off. Cupping her round plush breast, he felt the full weight of it. Warm, soft, inviting, God, like her mouth. He began rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, feeling it harden like a bud of a flower. He bent forward and began to suck on her nipple. He kissed, licked, flicked, and sucked like he had never had a meal in his life. Renee threw her head back and sighed long and softly. Dan lowered her to the grass, putting one leg over hers. His hand glided up her silken thigh, and under the coarse wool of her kilt. The heat of her guided him directly to her sweet, loving nethermouth. He found the snaps to the tank suit, and undid them. He slowly slid his middle finger into her slit, while covering her mouth with his. She squirmed slightly, and her breasts rose and fell to his ministrations. She felt lost in his grasp. He had a hard time to keep from climbing on top of her and driving his beast into her. But she wasn't quite ready yet.

His thumb found her clit, and began to circle around the tiny nub. Her hips began to follow his lead. If he pulled his thumb away, she arched. If he lightly brushed against the clit, she'd thrust forward. She ached for a release. He wouldn't give it yet. On and on he teased her pussy.

Circling, stroking, making her whisper dirty little desires with anguish for him, for his cock. Sensing she was so close to the edge, Dan roughly shoved her kilt over her hips, exposing all of her, He turned her onto her knees, facing away from him doggy style, and shunted his aching, steel cock deep into her, at the same time, he wiggled her clit with ferocity, causing her to buck her lovely white ass against his stomach. His balls slapped against her with a soft smacking sound. And he came. He came hard. Spurt after spurt deep into the dancer. She collapsed onto the ground, giggling. He gasping for breath, withdrew. She rolled onto her back, straightned her kilt. He pulled his own kilt into place, and pulled her to him. Kissed her, pushing a few tendrils of her dark curly hair from her face. She smiled into his eyes. It was a good day for games!