A Scottish Tale

It was that clatter of dishes that woke me, however.

I opened my eyes and realized I wasn't in my own bed. I had fallen asleep with Eithne in my arms and had slept the sleep of the dead. Never had I felt so comfortable, even alone in a bed. And I'd been with women before, but never as much more than a diversion.

There were women in the village who occasionally liked to endear themselves to a prosperous landowner and I had never been particularly good at spurning such advances. So I had experience.

But this was different on so many levels.

What struck me first was that she had invited me into her bed and I had willingly accepted. There had been no discussion, no bartering, no expectations. It seemed that neither of us had anything else on our minds.

Not only had this woman willingly given herself to me, I had given myself to her. I realized that there was nothing I wouldn't do for this woman -- to please her, to keep her safe, to fulfill all her desires.

As I lay there thinking about how I felt, she roused. She arched her back, stretching like a cat and lightly dragged her fingernails across my chest, raising gooseflesh on my body and facilitating an obvious rise in my desire. I swung my legs out of bed and started to dress, wondering how I would escape detection.

It certainly wouldn't do to have me coming out of a young boy's room in the morning. Even Molly wouldn't contain her displeasure with me for forcing myself on an innocent boy. And that's how it would have to appear.

As I was wondering, Eithne got up and slipped on her trousers. I watched as the baggy woolen garment slid over her hips and concealed the lovely curve of her arse. I would never be able to look at her in those pants again without dreaming of the feminine beauty contained within.

She shook out the long strip of muslin, flipping it out in front of her to untwist it. Then, holding on end across her chest with left hand, she executed a half-pirouette that took the cloth across her back and into her right hand.

She pulled the cloth snugly across her chest, flattening her beautiful, firm breasts and responsive and tantalizing nipples. A few more twists and tugs and she was tucking the end of the wrap in to secure it and then slipping on a large baggy shirt that tied at the neck and wrists.

She ran her fingers through her radiant hair and somehow, with a slight mussing, she transformed from an elegant and beautiful woman to an unkempt boy with a shock of unruly locks. The statuesque grace she normally exhibited was replaced with a dismissive slouch and suddenly she was a sullen youth. She put on her black leather boots that gave her somewhat of an elfin quality. Then she turned to me and put a finger to her lips and slipped out the door toward the kitchen, leaving it cracked just slightly.

I continued to dress, peeking through the door to wait for some sort of signal. I heard her in the kitchen talking with Molly and then heard Molly laugh. She had always loved to laugh and her when she found something truly amusing, she rumbled with a decidedly unfeminine guffaw. It made her rather voluminous body shake and ripple and it always amused me to amuse her.

I saw Eithne's shadow against the wall and then her hand came around the corner and with a 'come hither' motion, she waved me past. I dashed as silently as I could down the hall and to my own room. A few minutes later I entered the kitchen and found the two of them sitting at the battered old table having a cup of tea. I poured myself a cup and sat down beside Molly, across from Eithne.

"How did you sleep?" I asked my young charge.

"Great. I've never slept in such a soft bed. I think it was the best night's sleep I've ever had," she said, giving me just a slight twitch of her eyelid, a sort of half-wink.

"I'm glad you were pleased," I replied. Two could play this game. "Of course it's always a better night's sleep when one is completely spent. So I'm going to work you today."

I felt the toe of Eithne's boot brush against my bare leg as she sipped her tea. Damn, she was good at not giving anything away.

"Molly, ma'am, I've heard that you know lots of remedies for ailments and conditions. Is that true," she asked nonchalantly.

"Aye, I suppose I've got a fair knowledge of what works for most folks," she said, nodding.

"Can I ask you a question about it?"

"Certainly, lad."

"I've a cousin who wants no more children and I fear that some of the salves or tinctures she uses may do her harm."

"Ahhh. That's a problem older than me by far. When I was a lass, my gram told me, as her gram told her, how to keep the wee bairns at bay. She told me that a lass who drinks a tea made from leaves of bog myrtle and pennywort at each full moon will never have to worry about becoming with child. I never tried it but I'm told it gives a lass such a bellyache and churns up those nether regions and keeps her barren."

I knew what Eithne was thinking. Obviously she could not become pregnant and continue our ruse.

But I couldn't imagine not making love to her again. In fact, I couldn't imagine not making love to her every night for the rest of my life.

"And pennyroyal," Eithne continued, "that's a common plant, isn't it? I'll wager we have all the needful at hand in your excellent herb garden. You wouldn't stop a lad from helping his cousin, would you? If you show me how to make the mixture, I can send a sample and write careful instructions."

Eithne looked momentarily dutiful. Then her eye twinkled.

"And it would be a sight useful if ever a young lady takes an interest in my humble self."

Molly cackled and called her wicked spawn of Satan. It was clear that she was taken with David. She promised to investigate the herb garden later that very morning. Eithne looked to me with mock supplication.

"May I have time from my duties to educate myself in the ways of such convenient herbs?" she asked.

That afternoon, I led Eithne out past the meadow, to help him see to the pasture fence. The weather was warm, and she'd changed to a kilt which swung jauntily above her knees in a way that provoked at least a mild distraction. The moment we were out of sight, she began making noises of disgust.

"That pennyroyal potion is DISGUSTING. Euch! Feh! Why do the lasses always have to take the hard road? Why has nature not arranged things so that I could dose YOU? You are, after all, the one that -- ahem -- produces the difficulty."

She smacked me disrespectfully and ran ahead, laughing, relieved, in fact, that there was a way to prevent the worst from happening. Why nature had to ordain that the way tasted so nasty was beyond her, however. Just another instance of cosmic unfairness. Something would have to be done, she muttered, turning around and walking backwards while speaking and almost falling over the stile.

Eithne apparently thought she was staying just out of arm's reach and teasing me with playful verbal jabs and a swing of her hips that made her kilt swish back and forth alluringly.

I lengthened my stride and made up the distance between us. I reached for her arm as she walked backwards in front of me and she tried to twist away. Tangling her feet just as I got a hold of her arm, she crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, taking me with her.

Suddenly we were together on the ground. Her kilt had ridden up and I was between her widely splayed legs. My knees sank in to the soft loamy earth, the ground still wet with the morning's dew.

Eithne released my arm and for a moment I thought about standing up, but instead I found my hands running up her legs, over the taught firm muscles of her calves and up the back of her thighs.

I slid my hands up her legs and found her bare bottom seated on the cool wet grass and I was overcome with desire. The touch of her flesh sent a charge of lust coursing through my body.

I hiked the front of her kilt up and then lifted the front of my own. I pushed her back onto the grass and felt my rigid shaft slide along her thigh. The red and swollen head searched out her moist folds and I felt her lips part as I pressed against them.

She sighed as she felt me begin to enter her and then her back arched and she bit her lip to stifle a moan.

Partly to protect those beautiful lips, I pressed my mouth hotly to hers, pushing my tongue past her teeth and feeling that moan rush into my own mouth as I slipped deeper inside her.

I withdrew slowly and then pressed forward again. I kissed her deeply as I penetrated her. My hands sought out the tightly bound swells of her breasts and I could just barely feel her hard nipples through the layers of cloth.

She raised her knees, opening herself to me even more and I began to thrust myself into her powerfully. She pulled my face down against her bosom, her fingers wound in my long hair.

She twisted her bottom on the grass changing the angle of my thrusts into her and I felt the throbbing tip of my shaft nudging against the mouth of her womb.

I thought for a moment that I had never been more glad that Molly knew so much about tinctures and potions. Surely, had she not known about such things, this beautiful young woman would soon be unable to carry off her ruse and her swollen belly would doom our plans.

But now I slid myself into her with renewed vigor. I felt her muscles quiver and heard her moaning beneath me. I put my arms behind her and hugged her close, my hands behind her head as hers were holding mine.

She shuddered and squeezed her legs together and I felt her fingers curl more tightly in my hair as a rush of pleasure washed over her.

I felt her lips at my ear and in a throaty whisper she rasped, "I love you."

The combination of her words and the feeling her body wrapped around mine gave me a shudder and I felt myself swelling inside her and with a final lunge I buried myself deeply inside her and erupted, sending my charge of seed deep within her fertile belly. My breath caught in my throat and I rumbled the same low growl that had surprised even me the last time I heard it.

I held her against me and it felt as though my spasms and shuddering climax would last forever. I filled her with my gushing charge and then held us there in a tight and impassioned embrace.

All too soon, she lifted me head and looked me in the eyes.

"I think we'd best get up before someone spies us in this position," she said with a smirk. "After all, you wouldn't want to be seen taking advantage of an innocent young boy, would you?"

With a subdued and somewhat melancholy sigh, I slipped out of her and stood up, offering her my hand and pulling her to her feet.

"I guess I have a weakness for boys such as yourself," I told her, watching her smooth her kilt and run her fingers though her hair.

We looked around and, seeing no one, continued on our journey to retrieve that foul-smelling herb, which had assumed great importance in our lives.

I marveled at myself as I watched her walk and began to feel stirrings deep inside me again.

"Already?" I thought as I envisioned myself lifting the back of that kilt and penetrating her again. I wondered how it was possible that I could feel so completely satisfied by the physical act of making love with this woman and still be wanting more almost immediately.

Eithne began to talk again and I tried to listen to her words, but I caught about one of every three as my mind kept drifting to images of her leaned over a low stone wall with me behind her. I saw images of me penetrating her and imagined myself looking down to see my shaft disappearing inside her. More images flashed through my head as I imagined that view and realized that I wanted to also see my hard shaft stretching her tender arse open as I plowed it deep into her rear opening.

"I wonder what she'd do?" I asked myself. "Would she reject me or would she push her rear back against me, urging me deeper into the recesses of her bum?"

I realized I was hard again and was almost frightened to realize that we were coming upon the low stone wall that surrounded the garden and our quarry of pennyroyal.