Underneath by DChatterly 1997

It was new years eve 1992 when I chose the man who would consummate
my infidelity. My husband had been right. I was a pure woman with
desires running far beyond that which could be offered within the
confines of marriage to one man. At twenty nine years old: I felt
incomplete, sold short, and consequently nave in the physical
aspects of sex that were exalted so much in modern culture.

Derek - my husband - was forcibly loud mouthed at times, and, in
company, displayed the sickening signs of an over-baring false
bravado. Not true to his quite submissive nature when alone in my
clutches. If his similarly moulded friends knew of his lack of
ability when it came to 'seeing to' his wife, he'd most definitely
be on the wrong end ridicule, of that I am sure. Something I'm
certain he could never live down. I on the other hand, exhibited
obedience, sweetness and a quiet compliance to his every command. If
only people knew of his wish for me to have my cunt worshipped by
somebody deserving, somebody that could do for me all that was most
obviously beyond him.

It was watching him on this New Years eve that forced me into taking
the initiative. We attended a dance with a group of friends, of the
traditional sort for here in Scotland. As you would expect, on this
special occasion, many gentlemen adorned kilts, proudly displaying
their family colours, enjoying the country dancing, twirling to the
pipes and fiddles. 

We sat in a corner table, a group of us, drinking and chatting over
the musical cacophony. Derek and his bunch of tumultuous
acquaintances jeered uproariously at the men dressed in their
traditional costumes. They pointed and heckled as the line of
dancing figures swaying past our table. 

'Have you got your knickers on?' I heard him yell, in an
embarrassingly loud fashion. Hoops of laughter ensued from amidst
our table. I had to conceal my face in discomfort at this
unnecessary exhibition. One or two of the other females agreed with
me and tried to quieten their partners down, but this seemed to
impel them to make more of a show. The drunken hollering seldom
ceased for a moment. One of the men raced from his chair and joined
the line, screeching, 'Donald where's yer troosers,' and tugging at
the kilts as they passed him by. I sat with Derek, as he literally
exploded with laughter at his friends antics.

'Stop it for Christ's sake,' I told him, but he screwed his face up
mocking my visible annoyance. 

As the evening wore on, myself and some of the other wives started
to join in the traditional dancing. It was fun, shuffling down the
middle of the two lines of smiling cheering people, genuinely
enjoying themselves, clapping hands outrageously; the males linking
your arm in turn, twirling you around and  criss-crossing back and
fourth. 

When the dancing finally ceased, I slumped back into my chair
exhausted, and determined that Derek was not going to alter my now
cheerful mood. He continued knocking back copious amounts of drink
along with his dubious mates. The other women at the table chatted
about this and that, and as the time approached midnight, I found
myself hopelessly merry.

At the bells, everyone, except Derek and his mob, took once again to
the busy dance-floor. We arranged ourselves into a boy-girl circle
and started the countdown. I had two men on either side, one holding
each of my hands, swinging arms, and enjoying the fun of the moment. 

"I'm Ian," one of them hollered into my ear. It was the same lad
whom Derek had been ridiculing earlier on for wearing a kilt. I
smiled, excited by the anticipation of the rapidly approaching New
Year. 

"Hiya," I managed to reply over the countdown. "I'm Jane." He
grabbed my hand tighter and joined in with the final numbers.

"FIVE, FOUR THREE TWO ONE"

The cheering began along with an array of voices singing Auld Lang
Syne. As the lights flashed, I was kissed on the cheek by one of the
men who held a hand, then Ian turned from pecking the woman on his
other side and bent down to take his turn in the traditional kiss
with me.  Admittedly, I did have my cheek positioned to receive a
simple kiss, but as his face approached, I turned to meet his lips
with my own. The kiss merely lingered for a second, but his eyes
fixed on mine for moments after we broke off. It was a serious look,
a flirtatious flash, revealing a lot more than words can here. I
eventually allowed a smile to surface, which Ian reciprocated
instantly.  

The dancing went on well past the hour before Ian suggested we stop
for a refreshment. Whilst we waited at the bar for service, Derek
staggered up to me and announced he'd had enough and was going to
our room. He slurred and stuttered his words as he attempted to talk
me into going along with him. My refusal was greeted with mild
indignation, brought about solely by the amount he had drunk. 

"Oh what the hell," he finally spurted out. Just as he was about to
turn and leave, he spied Ian standing in front of me. "Hey look
everyone!" he yelled. "It's the man with the dress on. What have you
done with yer troosers mate?"   He proceeded to grab the back of
Ian's kilt and lift it up. Ian tried to muster a laugh, but the fact
he was minus any underwear was revealed for a brief moment. I
grabbed Derek's arm and hauled him away. 

"God I'm so sorry about this Ian" I held onto Derek's arm and
ushered him away. "I'll just take this cretin up to the room and be
back down in a minute." Ian didn't seem embarrassed or bothered
about the incident, and I smiled and stepped hurriedly away. 

I obtained the room key from reception and assisted Derek upstairs.
Once in the room, he slumped heavily on the bed, and I went into
toilet to pee and check my makeup. 

Sitting on the toilet seat, I realised straight away that I was
decidedly wet between my legs. My mind swirled to what the reason
for this could be. I had been enjoying Ian's company, but no illicit
thoughts had entered my head even whilst we had danced closely. Then
the image of what had been revealed under his kilt came to me.
Surely that couldn't be the reason for my current state. It was just
a quick glimpse, and I am never one to be visually aroused in any
way. But what I had seen had definitely fired up my curiosity.
Although his cock had been in a limp state, there had been so much
of it, that it must be the reason. I think that the fact I knew he
had been paying me special interest despite all the attractive
single women who were present downstairs, combined with the fact I
now knew he was free from underwear must be it.

When I finished peeing, I decided to remove my panties completely. I
didn't put any thought into this act, it just felt the right, and a
sexy thing to do to match my mood. Before pulling my skirt back down
over my lap, I viewed my legs and pubic area in the full length
mirror. God I was feeling horny - there was no doubting that now. I
couldn't recall the last occasion I felt like this. As I lingered a
look at myself, I adjusted my stockings higher up my legs, and
gently ran a finger down between my dark patch of pubic hair. It
eased inwards, and entered the wetness in the centre. One finger -
that was all it was - but I tingled all over from the feeling the
simple touch evoked. Rather than wash my hand, I wiped the digit
clean on the top of one stocking - suddenly aware of the sweet scent
that arose. I repositioned my skirt, paused to retain my composure
and went back into the bedroom. 

Derek was moaning about not feeling well; lying on his back, he'd
removed his shoes, but struggled to undo the belt on his trousers.
He looked vacantly at the ceiling then gave up on any success with
the belt. 

"Oh God, you're pathetic," I whispered under my breath, and moved to
help him undress. I undid his shirt and he tried to help me pull it
over his shoulders. I left him to finish pulling it off his arms,
and unbuckled his belt quickly. He moved about in order to make the
task of removing his trousers easier. With both hands, I grappled
with them, and finally pulled them over his raised ankles and feet.

"I'm going back down," I told him, then waited for a response. The
boxer shorts he wore were twisted about, and his thin cock poked out
the side. My mind visualised it next to the Ian's. Without doubt,
Ian should be the one laughing at him, not vice versa. I continued
to stare, suddenly aware for the first time, the reason why I didn't
get much satisfaction from his poor attempt at lovemaking. Six years
of marriage, six years void of satisfaction, six years of kidding
myself on. In the early days of our marriage, he would constantly
state that I was the one unable to relax sufficiently in order to
climax. The fact I didn't feel any friction as we fucked I had
always viewed as my own fault. No one ever told me that the size of
the man would make any difference - in fact the opposite was always
quoted; 'it's not the size that counts, but what you do with it'.
Maybe that was true, in which case Derek did not know what to do
with it. Simple logic. But I had noticed that in recent weeks, he
had showed signs of his submissive side surfacing - acknowledging
our incompatibility whilst he pointlessly slid his thin cock into me
- observing how expressionless I remained throughout.

His response finally surfaced, "Don't be long honey," he whispered,
far from complete consciousness. "I think I need some attention. Do
you want it baby?"

"Yes I want it Derek, " I responded. "But, I wouldn't mind it a
little better fitting tonight. Feel how wet I am." I took one of his
hands and directed it between my legs. His eyes instantly sparked
back to life.

"Oh God Honey it is." He unfurled a finger and it slid so easily
into my body - suddenly aware of that fact I was free from any
panties. "Are you going back down like that?"

I nodded, a slow exaggerated motion that I'm sure got my message
across better than any words. His planted finger began to revolve
inside me, the fact that I was soaking down there didn't change how
obvious his skill at this lacked something. Surely any woman in this
high state of physical arousal, could be brought off by any man with
a little know how. But it wasn't happening here, and I had to remove
his hand to ensure that I wouldn't dry up. "I'm off downstairs
again, to apologise to Ian for your vulgar behaviour, and I'm taking
my wet cunt with me."
   
As soon as I was back in the down in the party, I found Ian
patiently waiting for me, holding the drinks he'd bought.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come back or not," he said, smiling as I
greeted him. He handed me a drink. "I got you a double."

"Thanks, I need it," I replied. "Being married to that idiot takes
its toll sometimes. I'm so sorry about before."

Ian nodded. "That's alright," he began. "Some men don't like kilts
at all."

"Oh don't dare refer to him as a man Ian, he's shown full well that
he's not that." He laughed, and lifted his glass towards mine.

"Here's to the New Year," he said. "Hope it's a good one, and brings
all you desire."

Suddenly all my desires came into focus. Suddenly my focus was
apparent. I clanked my glass gratefully against his.  
 
The next half hour past too fast. Our eyes never last one and other.
I found myself succumbing even further to the charms of the man
whose I company I'd found myself in. But the call came for those
guests who were not residents in the hotel to leave. Ian lifted his
jacket from the back of his char, all the time keeping me entranced
with a deep luring smile. 

"Well it has been a nice evening, but all good things" he started
to say.

"Oh no Ian don't go, please."

"It's chucking out time it seems," he replied.

"I know it is, " I replied with a sigh. "But does it have to be for
you?"

"I don't have a room booked in the hotel," he replied with an equal
amount of dejection. "You do but I don't"

"Your welcome to stay in mine." 

The pause said it all, the pause that turned to an inquisitive
frown. Ian's eyes never left mine. "What do you mean?" he asked,
knowing full well what I meant. 

"Time to get your own back on Derek." I casually remarked and
outstretched a hand towards him.

Not requiring a second invitation, my open gesture was received with
a hand placed on my own. We weaved between the departing guests,
silently but hastily towards my hotel room.

Ian wasn't embarrassed when confronted with Derek turning around and
facing us after I tapped his shoulder. He had managed to get himself
under the bed clothes and was asleep or feigning sleep when we
approached through the dimly lit bedroom. I still held Ian's hand.

"I brought Derek up for you to apologise in person," I told him as
he viewed us through semi shut eyes. 

"Sorry mate," he stammered right away.  Derek shrugged his shoulders
but didn't speak back.

"Have you got a problem with men in kilts?" I then asked, not happy
with the sincerity of his apology. I sat down on the edge of the bed
and pulled Ian towards me. "Look honey."

Ian stood above me, I positioned a leg on either side of his legs
and, placing a hand on each of his ankles, slowly moved them upwards
until they disappeared under the sides of his kilt. My skirt had
dragged up over my lap to display the flesh above my stocking tops.
Ian's thick legs felt good to the touch, solid and rough where the
hair was abundant. My eyes closed as my hands reached his waistline,
both of them simultaneously moving back until contact was made with
his tightly clenched buttocks. I continued to allow my hands to
circle each one, lingering upon the tight muscle upon them, taking a
moment to get to know the curve and firmness every area offered.
Ian's arms linked around my shoulders, his body motioned forward and
I could feel each minute thrust by the way his rear tightened in my
hands.  The kilt was lifted slightly at each side but still
restraining an obvious obtrusion at the front. I parted my legs
further and allowed his forward momentum to bring him in closer.
From underneath his kilt, I directed my hands to lift the material,
slowly uncovering more of his bare legs. Expecting to catch sight of
his manhood momentarily, my breathing instinctively increased. To my
surprise, as I lifted the kilt material further, It didn't
immediately come into view. Strongly muscled thighs appeared, but my
hands, still concealed underneath, moved into the last remaining
concealed area. Another of my senses was introduced to what yet was
unseen. The touch of my warm hands met an equally warm presence.
Not sure as to the extent of solid object they had found, the
fingers of each curled around it. The circle they moulded into
wouldn't meet - the firmness they encountered wouldn't deflect. I
didn't need to see anything to know what I now knew.  Here was the
introduction to infidelity that I craved.

Something I always believed that didn't come naturally to me is the
desire to take a man in my mouth. How completely wrong I was. My own
in-built rules didn't seem to register, it suddenly seemed the
natural step to take. With the kilt up as high as possible, I could
finally understand why women felt it necessary to perform this act.
With a fair amount of force I used both hands to direct the object
of attention towards my blood filled lips. In one easy movement, I
tightened them over the glistening head. My mouth watered as I
tasted the scent of his sex. My head was instructing me just to
tease and play with the end, but I couldn't resist taking it deep.
My hunger grew as I sucked, my patience faltered as I heard Ian moan
in delight of my action. I wanted so desperately to flood my mouth
with his fluid. My hands assisted, working at the base, feeling the
veins pulse as more blood rushed and managed to harden the area
further. Between moans of my own, stifled by what delved close to my
throat, I allowed my eyes to briefly wander to my husbands lust
filled face. He could never have imagined his wife enjoying such a
moment. I was concerned that if Ian came now, I may have to make do
with Derek's quick lived lovemaking and so could end up unfulfilled.
If Ian got embarrassed he may disappear before recovering
sufficiently to finish what he'd started.

My worries gave way as I felt his body tighten evoking turbulent
rippling spasms; he was ejaculating, and I concentrated on making
the joyous moment last. The warm liquid came up against the back of
my throat, each spurt making it further and coating it completely. I
wanted to swallow, but needed to keep sucking until I had every
drop. Ian groaned above me, and his arms pressed into my shoulders
where they had remained throughout. When my mouth was finally
separated from his cock, I closed it to ensure I never lost any of
the beautiful liquid he'd deposited there. In one gulp I had
ingested every last drop.

"Now my love." I heard Ian whisper.  His hands were upon my legs,
gliding over the thin stocking material. He gripped a hand on the
back of each thigh and pulled me upwards. Surprised, but grateful to
him for taking control, I relaxed and allowed him to position me
over the tip of his cock. He teased me with a wide mouth kiss,
placing his tongue where moments before had been full of the residue
of desire. I was more than surprised when he eased my weight down
and gently let gravity join us together. A surge of adrenaline leapt
around my insides.  The feeling of being filled, a new experience,
overwhelmed my entirety. My vaginal walls greeted the feeling with
gratitude, thanking me by setting free pulses that undulated to the
tips of my fingers. This was an orgasm, I instantly knew. I
recognised the alien feeling that should be familiar to every woman.
Despite this climax, I craved more, and knew I would never again
make do with  Derek's poor imitation of sex.

Ian continued to lift and drop me, controlling each movement with a
thrust of his own making. It quickened, along with my panting
eventually turning into shrieks. The rough material of his kilt
brushed my bare rear, the coarse fabric adding a sensation to the
increasing, frantic coupling. My own skirt was up around my waist,
my legs were locked around him. He lifted me up still in this
position and we bucked for a few minutes. I saw Derek lying
motionless, his cock, now limp on his lap with a string of semen
still joined to the end. He had brought himself off whilst watching
us, that was a saving grace - he wouldn't need my attentions later
on, or ever again.                        
   

