Underneath

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 naïve 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 friend’s 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 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 patches 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 passed too fast. Our eyes never left 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 bedclothes 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 my saving grace - he wouldn't need my attentions later on, or ever again.