I trekked towards the exit in Edinburgh Airport, newly returned from another adventure watching the Scottish football team playing in some far flung European outpost. Estonia, Latvia, San Marino, Croatia; I'd visited them all and more besides in the last few years. Life was for living now and nothing was more appealing to me than donning the kilt, strapping on the sporran and heading for some less than exotic location that I'd only ever heard of in my geography lesson at school. Off to see my beloved Scotland play with some good mates and a few like-minded souls from across the country.
This had been a good away trip with Scotland winning on the Saturday and then managing a creditable draw in the second match on the Wednesday evening. After 10 days of non-stop drinking and partying I had arrived back in Scotland that Friday afternoon looking dishevelled and exhausted; but not out of place in the slightest with my fellow Tartan Army supporters. We were in good spirits and full of stories of our various mischiefs on foreign soil as we headed for the taxi rank. The party hadn't quite finished for me however, as I was headed straight to the centre of Edinburgh to meet up with some work colleagues heading out for a birthday celebration.
As I stepped out of the taxi just after 7pm that Friday night, I was adorned in traditional Tartan Army attire: blue tee-shirt, kilt, sporran, knee length woollen socks and walking boots. In the normal Scottish tradition, no underwear was worn below the kilt and the September breeze was a welcome refreshment to my nether regions as I marched towards the pub, my rucksack of limited travel supplies slung over one shoulder.
The pub was mobbed, full of the suits and skirts that had recently fallen out of the city-centre offices in Edinburgh and straight into the pub for after-work drinks. I stood out like some novelty entertainment in fancy dress, there to be mocked by everyone. I didn't mind, I'd only fleetingly reached sobriety for most of the last 10 days and a steady flow of beer at the airport and on the plane home had kept my confidence high and my swagger strong. I acknowledged the various comments and whistles as I fought my way through the crowd to the bar, keen to get a fresh pint of lager on order and find my friends. As I shouted over to the serving barmaid, I felt a warm hand rise up the back of my kilt and firmly squeeze a buttock. I turned round to see Louise, one of the admin assistants from work smiling broadly at me and winking. She moved forward to hug me tightly and welcome me home. Louise, in her normal way, was already showing signs of serious tipsiness after leaving the office at 5pm and spending the last 2 hours in the pub without anything to eat yet.
Louise was 23, pretty and very buxom. Tonight her ample breasts were brilliantly displayed in a slightly too-tight white blouse with 3 buttons left undone so that an inappropriate amount of cleavage was on show. She was wearing a navy blue skirt that finished just above her knee and a pair matching blue high heel shoes that showed off her legs, still beautifully tanned from her recent holiday to Spain with her fiancé. I admired her bronzed skin and soaked in her smile. She'd been away to Malaga in the 2 weeks before I'd gone off to watch Scotland. It was fully four weeks since we'd seen each other and she was looking fabulous after her holiday. More than could be said for me after 10 days of too little sleep and too much alcohol.
Louise and I didn't really flirt with each other in the office. I'd throw the odd cheesy chat-up line at her but she rarely responded. From a few previous nights out though, I'd quickly worked out that her inhibitions dropped quickly after a few drinks and she was a keen to flirt and always accepted compliments enthusiastically.
The rest of the office gang had spotted me and made their way over. I greeted each of them in turn and then spun back to the bar to retrieve my pint of lager whilst ordering more drinks for my colleagues. Formalities over, we headed away from the busy bar area to a quieter spot where we could chat and I could amuse them with stories of my recently completed adventures in Eastern Europe. There were 8 of us out that night including Ali, whose 29th birthday we were celebrating. I was delighted to be centre of attention in my kilt and the 5 girls in our group were all playfully enquiring as to whether I was being a "true" Scotsman that evening. Louise blurted out that she had already checked very thoroughly as soon as I had arrived at the bar and that she knew the answer. The other 4 girls rounded on her for being so forward and decrying her proclamation until they had each personally confirmed the presence of my under garments or otherwise. The night look set to continue with great fun and hilarity as round after round of drinks were ordered and consumed.
By 9.30pm we were all suffering from the effects of our drinking. The other 2 guys from the office, Alan and Neil, headed away when Babs' husband arrived to collect her. Babs was the oldest of the girls out that night. In her late 30's, she run the main reception and was mother hen to all of us in the "young squad". She could party hard though and was always there on nights out, creating some new crazy drinking game that would leave everyone drunk. However, that weekend she had a wedding on the Saturday so she'd arranged for her husband to collect her before it got too messy and he was happy to drop Alan and Neil off as they both lived in the east of the city, not far from Babs. I think both boys were a bit out of sorts that night with all the attention focused on me and my kilt.
I was left with Louise, Ali, Gillian and Ali's friend Lisa. We decided to finish this round of drinks and then head for something to eat before we all became too drunk. We headed out of the pub into the dusky evening light of Edinburgh. It wasn't that warm but we were all immune to the cold by then. Down the road we skipped, arms linked together, like Dorothy and her friends in the Wizard of Oz. "We're off to see the wizard..." we sang and giggled to each other as we imitated the dancing step.
Round the corner we headed in to a pizzeria, in look of salvation and some food to absorb our alcoholic intake so far. I don't remember what pizzas we ordered but we washed them down with 2 bottles of house red wine, which ensured that our food didn't provide chance of causing an outbreak of sobriety. The waiter returned to ask if we wanted desert and a couple of the girls expressed an immediate desire for something sweet and indulgent. The waiter was dispatched with an order for 4 trifle deserts, which duly arrived a short time after. They were presented in a tall, narrow desert glass with the cream climbing above the rim and topped with a red glacier cherry. Lisa immediately complained that she didn't like cherries and I took my opportunity to ask "could I take her cherry?"
She smiled, acknowledging my intended innuendo and slowly picked the cherry up, clenched between her teeth and covered in white, sticky cream that had spilled around her mouth as she bit to collect the cherry from the top of her desert. She turned towards me with the cherry still secure in her mouth and leaned forward to let me suck it from her toothy grasp. Our lips locked together as I took the cherry and the surrounding cream disappeared from her face as we kissed. After a few seconds we broke away from each other's embrace and I sat back triumphantly as the other girls clapped and cheered our impromptu show. Lisa didn't work beside us but was Ali's best friend and always turned up at our work nights out so we all knew her fairly well. I really fancied Lisa and always tried it on with her when she was out with us. My success rate in chatting up Lisa, however, was zero. She always seemed to knock me back in a pleasant and polite manner without upsetting me (or putting me off trying the next time!). Maybe tonight my luck with Lisa was about to change due to her inebriated state?
Louise, however, was not to be outdone and was already spooning a large dollop of fresh cream onto her extended tongue. She topped it off by balancing the cherry on top of the cream and carefully leaning forward over the table to allow me to steal her cherry. I stole the cherry from the tip of her tongue and swallowed it. She stayed forward with her tongue still pushed out, the diminishing pile of cream dripping off either side and running down her chin, dripping onto the table. I unavoidable gazed down her blouse at those magnificent breasts as she wobbled precariously trying to keep her balance. The invitation was obvious and I leaned forward again to kiss her and lick the messy cream from around her mouth. Our tongues probed each other's mouths back and forth as we kissed. Again as we separated the other girls applauded. It was 10.30pm and fortunately our area of the restaurant, which was tucked round a corner from the main area, was now empty. We'd obviously been placed there intentionally on our arrival as it was clear we were drunk and loud and likely to disrupt fellow diners if we'd been placed in the main pizzeria.
Birthday girl Ali was next to load up with desert ready to share it with me. However, before she had walked round the table to reach where I was sitting, Louise and Lisa dared her to swap her cherry with Gillian rather than me. I wasn't disappointed to see the two girls lock lips as the fruit and cream swirled between them and their tongues. We all sat back down and giggled to each other in our drunken haze. I excused myself and headed for the toilet, needing to relieve myself of some of the lager and wine consumed over the evening so far.
The toilets were across the main part of the restaurant and through a door, which led up a stair to the first floor. I swung my sporran round to the side and lifted my kilt to take hold of my cock and enjoy the release of emptying my alcohol-filled bladder. I smiled to myself thinking about the desert-filled snogging with my female friends and started to imagine what it might lead to later that night. I finished up, washed my hands and then headed back out. As soon as I exited the Male Toilets I was accosted by Louise in the corridor at the top of the stairs. She pulled me in tightly towards her and locked her lips onto mine. Our tongues twisted around each other and we stumbled back against the wall as we kissed. My hand reached up to start massaging one of her impressive breasts through her taught blouse. I then felt her reach down and under my kilt to wrap her warm hand around my cock. She squeezed and pressed at my shaft and then cupped my balls, gently rubbing each one in turn between her fingers. My knob responded to her touch and started to grow. She returned her hand to wrap it back around my extending shaft and began to rub her hand up and down my now erect penis.
