A Proper Scottish Wife

Finally, for all those who may have been hoping for more erotica in a Literotica submission, several parties get their bells wrung. This submission contains oral sex as well as regular intercourse. If you are offended by such things, don't read any further, but hopefully, that's why you're on this website and not some other. Things are starting to heat up.

Chapter 16

At 5:00, the ladies disappeared to put on their new dresses, the men already dressed in their best kilts. The three of them came down the stairs together, to the stunned looks of their men. Teárlag was in a pale yellow, semi-translucent shift which more than hinted at the treasures beneath it. A lemon yellow bodice was cinched tight at her small waist putting her assets on prominent display. Thorburn wanted to pull the shift down and nibble on the bumps exposed by the fabric.

Ailene wore a green brocade that would have been daringly low but for the lace filling the center of the dress. While the lace did a good job of hiding the valley between her breasts, it hinted at the mounds on either side. Stuart let out a low whistle.

"A rather daring dress, wife. I wonder what the priest will say when he sees it," Stuart whispered in her ear when she reached him.

"Nothing I hope. The pattern had no lace at all in the center. I can't imagine what French women are thinking by exposing themselves so. I wonder if they're not all trollops. I added the lace myself so my breasts wouldn't be falling out of the dress. I know it's still scandalous, but I wanted it to be special for you."

Isobel's dress was the most modest of the three. Red brocade, laced up tight, squishing her breasts so they squeezed flat, but the mounds created pushed up to create a hint of the soft flesh beneath. Frang took her hand and kissed her fingers.

"Do you feel prepared for the Festival?"

"I'm so nervous. I've never attended anything this grand before. I hope I don't look like a fool in this beautiful dress."

"You look enchanting, Isobel. Your dark red hair is set off by the fabric. If you're not the most beautiful woman here, you're definitely a close second. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

By 5:30, the guests were seated at their various tables with platters of meat piled high on each one. Bread laden bowls were placed readily at hand. Beets, turnips and carrots steamed in their serving dishes. Wine, whiskey or beer had been poured in each glass. Pitchers of cold well water stood at each table. Dried apples and pears were available to all. The three Cameron brothers were at the head table with Isobel, Teárlag and Ailene seated beside them. The Lord Mayor of Dervaig was there with his wife as well as the village priest to bless the food and guests. Thorburn stood to get everyone's attention and asked to priest to say grace. Everyone stood.

"Bless us, oh Lord, with Thy bounteous blessings. We thank Thee for the food You've given us, and the comfort of a warm hearth. Bless the friends and guests You've gathered here to enjoy thy bounty, secure in the love and fellowship of our hosts and neighbors. We ask Thee to bless the ground and crops we've sown to ensure a bountiful harvest. Grant us peace and prosperity, all powerful Father, in the name of Saint John the Baptist and all the saints, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen."

A thunderous "Amen" rose from the gathered guests.

Thorburn shouted, "Please attend," to attract their gaze before they all sat down again.

"As most of you are already aware, my brother, Frang, has asked for the hand of Lady Isobel McTavish, which she has granted. Since we are all gathered together for the Midsummer Festival, we have decided to hold the ceremony tomorrow at 3:00 PM. You are all invited to stay, or return if you must leave, to attend the wedding. Another feast will follow the nuptials. I'd ask all of you to raise your glass to toast the impending wedding. To Frang Cameron, and his intended, the lovely Isobel McTavish, here is my wish for you.

Wishing you always walls for the wind,

A roof for the rain,

Tea beside the fire,

And the love and laughter of those you hold dear."

He raised his glass to cries of "Slàinte!"

Frang and Isobel thanked him.

Thorburn continued, "To all my guests who join us on this joyous occasion, I wish to propose a toast to lying, stealing, cheating and drinking."

The priest looked at him askance. This was certainly nothing he'd preached at Sunday services.

"If you're going to lie, lie for a friend.

If you're going to steal, steal a heart.

If you're going to cheat, cheat death.

And if you're going to drink, drink with me."

Thorburn drained his glass and sat down. The priest, relieved, said a quick 'Amen' drowned out by the sounds of raucous laughter and more calls of 'Slàinte'.

Cups, goblets and glasses were drained and servants hurried to refill each of them.

"Please, eat your fill," Thorburn added. "We have plenty to share. We'll have good music and dancing to follow and we'll light the bonfire at midnight. God's blessings on all of you."

People filled up their plates and dug into the plentiful food. There was a pleasant buzz of noise, dishes clattering, hearty laughter, whispers and low conversation.

Stuart leaned over and whispered, "I thought the priest was going to have apoplexy when you proposed a toast to lying, cheating and such. His face was almost purple before you said the actual toast."

"It was a lovely toast, Thorburn," Teárlag said. "Quite humorous while remaining heartfelt and true. I did not know you were so talented with words. One of your many talents, I might add." She whispered while squeezing his leg near his cock, "I'm looking forward to some of your other gifts later."

"You can't travel as much as I have without picking up a few useful things," he replied.

She left her hand there, much to Thorburn's consternation, for the balance of the meal.

When all guests had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared, the planks and benches were taken away, and the musicians began to warm up. Bagpipes, drum, fiddle and whistle and when they started with a Highland Fling, near everyone got on the floor to dance away the meal. The music was fast and lively and anyone not dancing was tapping their toes or slapping their legs, clapping their hands, or otherwise keeping time to the music.

Isobel got up to dance and Frang asked, "Dancing will not hurt the bairn, will it?"

She laughed and said, "Nay, Laird Cameron of Lady Luck Farm. A wee bit of exercise at this point will not harm the child. Later on, perhaps, if the pregnancy is difficult, it could be bad, but it'll be fine for now. Let's see if all that time in France has spoilt your ability to dance a reel."

"Lead on, then Lady Isobel, mistress of Lady Luck Farm. I'll see what you've got on the dance floor."

The dancing went on until midnight, with the three brothers dancing with each of their women and many other ladies besides. During one particularly vigorous dance, Thorburn swung Teárlag around like she was no more than thistle down in his brawny arms and you could hear her laughter as he swung her around the room in exaggerated movements lifting her feet from the floor more than a few times. The priest felt it prudent to retire before he could throw a damper on the celebration, and the drinking, dancing and music was legendary.

******

Outside the Keep, Blackthorne's captain, Ian, observed the Keep from the surrounding woods. He took note of the number of guards still standing watch on the walls, the weapons stacked closely to hand.

"Does the man never let down his guard?" He complained to his lieutenant. "The man is throwing a bloody party and his walls have more guards than usual."

"Aye, the man is a canny commander. He knows when he might be vulnerable and moves to counteract any weaknesses."

"I don't even see signs the guard is drinking. It's a waste of time to be sitting here. The Keep is way too strong to attack when they're prepared for an attack. Let's get out of here. I could use a whiskey myself."

******

The dance broke up shortly before midnight. The guests refilled their glasses with their preferred beverages and drifted out to the courtyard for the lighting of the bonfire. Thorburn offered the torch to the Lord Mayor to light the bonfire. He touched the torch to the wood and it slowly caught. He passed the torch to Stuart who touched it to the wood in front of him. Stuart passed the torch to Frang who handed it to Isobel, who lit the section in front of her and soon the entire pile of wood was ablaze. She tossed the torch onto the pyre. The guests sang a couple of their favorite folk songs about love and life and Scotland, many of them holding hands as they did so. Soon, the older guests drifted off to bed wherever that may be. Some of the younger folk snuck away from the watchful eye of their elders and found time to grope each other in the dark. Thorburn left with Teárlag and Stuart with Ailene, leaving Frang and Isobel to watch the embers floating up in the sky with the others who remained.

"You're not seeking your bed, Isobel. Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

She leaned her head against Frang's shoulder, holding his arm.

"Less so than the first time I was married. I know more of what I'm getting this time, and expecting fewer problems. My sole regret is my inability to come to you as a wife should. You've been kind and considerate of me in all ways, yet I cannot rid myself of the fear McTavish gave me for the marital bed. I would be paralyzed with fear had you not promised to give me time to find my love and accept yours. It's a splendid thing you do; marrying me while I carry another man's child. I wish I could give you all that you want, for your nobleness of character, if not for the love you express for me."

"It would be harder for me if I didn't understand the reason for your fear and apprehension. You have promised to do your best to love me and that is sufficient for now."

He handed her a small bouquet of Scottish Bluebells.

"Do you know of the tradition of maids sleeping with flowers under your pillow on Midsummer's night?" Frang asked.

"Aye, a maid will do so to dream of the man she will eventually love. I'm no longer a maid. Do the legends speak of what happens when grown women sleep with it under their pillows?"

"Not that I've heard."

"And if I should stick it under my pillow and not dream of you, shall we call off the wedding?"

"I would hate for my future happiness to depend upon a dream, especially one portending primarily to lasses. I'm committed to you, dreams or not."

"For your sake, I hope to dream of you, Frang."

"Let's hope your dreams are sweet and not nightmares."

"Goodnight, Frang."

"Goodnight, Isobel."

She went upstairs, undressed and sought her bed, sliding the flowers beneath her pillow. If she did not dream of him, neither did she have nightmares of their future together. Her sleep was untroubled.

******

Stuart's hand trailed down the lace of Ailene's bodice.

"It's so tantalizing," he said. "On the one hand I want to uncover what is suggested by this dress and on the other, I want to enjoy the brief suggestions and glimpses I have of your breasts. My God! Whatever made you decide on this lovely gown?"

"Teárlag showed me some of the newest fashions from France. Some were so scandalously provocative, I could never imagine anyone but a whore ever wearing one, though she insists that even the finest ladies are wearing gowns that leave their bosoms uncovered. That might be all right for France, but I couldn't envisage anyone in Scotland wearing anything so revealing. I saw this and realized that a bit of lace in the neckline would tease the eye, but not leave me feeling naked. I was hoping you'd like it. I've never worn anything like it before."

"I've wanted to eat you up since you came down the stairs."

"Lord Cameron;" she said in mock shock, "You would eat me?"

"All night long, Lady Cameron."

"You make me melt, Lord. I shall hold you to your word. We must remove the dress first. I would not wish it ruined in your passion."

Stuart slowly undid the many buttons down the back, looking over her shoulder for peeks at the treasures the increasing looseness of the dress revealed. Finally, enough of the buttons were undone to start sliding it off her shoulders. He turned her to face him as he slowly lowered the dress. Her hands went to her breasts as he uncovered them.

"No," he ordered. "Show yourself."

Her hands slowly came off her bosom and she revealed herself to him.

"You're so beautiful, my love. I can't contemplate anyone being more lovely than you are at this moment."

"I've never seen such hunger in your eyes, Lord. I shall have to dress provocatively more often if this is the result I can expect by doing so."

"Now that my brothers have found their own women, I imagine you could do so without rousing their blood to take you, though I may have to worry about every other red blooded male in the Keep."

He lowered the dress more to expose the delta of dark curls guarding her womanhood and Ailene could see his cock pressing against the heavy material of his kilt. The dress dropped to the floor and he picked it up and laid it over the bed.

She reached beneath his kilt and ran her hand up his cock and it twitched in her hand.

"It seems that you like what you see, my husband."

"Every inch of you from the tips of your toes to the top of your bonny head."

Ailene unfastened his kilt and let it drop to the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt and raised it over his head, staring at his hard body. A drop of his precum beaded on the end of his prick.

"Hmm!" She said. "If I were to take him into my mouth now, how long would you last I wonder?"

"Not long. I swear I've been at least half hard all night long. I'm ready to pop at the least bit of stimulation."

"Then my little man will have to wait and you shall have to do as you promised and eat me."

"Shall I start with your toes, my Lady?"

"To hell with my toes, my Lord. You may begin right here," Ailene said, lying back on the bed and spreading her legs, inviting him to touch her liquid core, already wet with desire.

"Mmmm. Your wish is my command."

His mouth found her nether lips, parted in her arousal, hot and damp. He tasted again the musky sweetness of her, ripe and piquant with her particular flavors. His tongue licked up the heady honey leaking from her slit. His mouth moved up her slick folds, to nibble lightly at her clit, wringing a languid moan from her mouth, teasing lightly before returning to gather more nectar. His tongue pushed inside, laving the pink flesh guarding her womb. He heard another soft moan escape her throat and knew he was responsible for her pleasure.

"It surprised me so much when you first did this, my husband. I couldn't anticipate how much ecstasy I would feel as you tongued me there. My mother prepared me to expect your cock to penetrate me, but she never prepared me for how good it would be for your tongue to penetrate me. I cannot envision a life without your lips caressing and sucking me as they are now. How incredibly good you make me feel."

To validate her words, her legs spread wider, her hands reached for his head and pulled it against her, rolling her hips upward with her mounting pleasure, grinding her sex against his lips and tongue. To accompany his lips, he inserted his middle finger deep into her core, bringing a quick inhalation of breath as she felt her excitement mount. His lips played with hers, lightly licking and sucking the tender folds, brushing against her clitoris multiple times without giving her the pressure or stimulation to send her over the precipice. He withdrew his finger which had been doing marvelous things to the inside of her sheath, slippery and well oiled in the fluids her overstimulated senses were releasing. She gave a slight sigh of disappointment, which rapidly turned into a deeper moan as it slid across the sensitive nerves around her puckered rosebud before sliding into her dark hole, the sphincter dilating to admit his finger.

"You naughty boy, Stuart. You should warn me before putting things in there," she whispered rapturously.

He laughed deep in his throat, the vibrations doing wondrous things as his tongue replaced the void left by the withdrawal of his finger from her well oiled sheath. He began to saw his finger back and forth in her fundament as he drank the dew seeping from her body.

"I'm so close, Stuart. So close. Please, give me release."

One more swipe of his tongue from her the finger penetrating her backside to the stiff nubbin at the top of her cleft and his lips suckled on the hardened flesh as he was so wont to do with her stiff nipples and the dams within her burst and her legs quivered as they tightened around his head. Mewling cries of pleasure muffled by her thighs clasping his ears in fevered embrace. He felt her stomach vibrating under his left hand as her spasms consumed her body in twitching contractions of satisfied need. He kept up his stimulation, letting her have no surcease to the delightful waves washing over her, bringing her to a second, then a third climax before easing his attentions.

She gave a satisfied sigh as the last of her orgasm finally washed away under his relaxed stimulation, though she was still giddy from the sweeping euphoria of it. He slowly kissed his way up her sensitized body, paying especial attention to the stiffened peaks of her nipples on round breasts still flushed from her climax. She felt the stiffness and tension of his cock as the head rubbed across her clit. Reaching between them, she grasped the steely shaft and guided it to the entrance of her cunt, dripping wet with arousal.

He gave a little push and the thick head pushed into her, parting the swollen, blood engorged flesh. He teased her with the head, sliding it back and forth into her opening until she thrust her hips up off the bed, capturing the full length of his manhood in the molten inferno of her flaming tunnel.

It was Stuart's turn to moan as she contracted around his turgid prick, heavy with need. She drew her legs up towards her chest, opening herself more to his heavy thrusts.

"Fuck me, Stuart. Give me your seed. It's time we make a child together. I want our own bairn to share with you. Plant your seed deep within me, Stuart. I love only you and I want this proof of your love growing within my womb. Fuck me hard."

Stuart did exactly as Ailene requested, plunging deep with every stroke, their groins colliding together in violent impact as he sought the release she demanded. He'd been so excited all evening; the dress, her beauty, the dancing, his pleasuring of her, all bringing him to the cusp of this moment. They'd had no time together since she'd refused Frang and kicked him out of the bedroom and every frustrating moment he'd been apart from her, unable to atone for his stupidity. Every moan, every word of her panting request, every slide of his cock into her core, every contraction of her sheath as she accepted his shaft contributed to the mounting tautness in his balls. It kept building and building until he felt he must burst from the unbearable pressure.

"I'm climaxing again, Stuart. It feels so good. I love you, Stuart. You fill me so."

With those words, he did. He rammed one last time into Ailene and with a heavy grunt, felt his prick swell as jet after jet of heavy cream rocketed from the crown of his cock to fill her welcoming womb. His pulsations continued for uncounted ticks of the clock, completely draining his balls of every precious drop of fluid. Stuart panted, winded from the exertion expended in his efforts.

He looked down at Ailene, awash in the glow of her own orgasm, her legs parted and bent up towards her chest. His cock snuggled within the depths of her cunt, both twitching still.