Aprons For Gayle Ch. 14

"Yes, yes. That's it."

Pushing her head down, he tested how much she could take. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt the tip press just in the back of her throat. Not gagging, he could see her visibly relax and tried to take more, though that time she did gag. Pulling back a little, she teased his entire length with her tongue before her lips reached the base of his cock.

"Shit. That feels good. Don't stop. Don' ... stop," he growled. "Use your hand."

A shiver went through her as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and worked it up and down as she continued to suck and tease his cock.

Another minute passed before he grabbed her head and forcefully, yet gently pushed it back. "No. I'm too close to coming."

He patted his thigh, and she knew exactly what he wanted. He put his legs together, and with his help, she wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was well aware of his hard cock pressing against her saturated pussy, but she didn't allow it to enter her.

When he didn't set her down on his cock, she thought he was angry. "Is this alright, Sir?" she asked shyly, though her voice was raspy.

"Oh, yes," he replied.

He got a firm hold of her hips and slipped his hand between them until his thumb pressed against her clit. "Hmm. Sir, fuck, please. I want to feel you inside me. Please. PLEASE?"

"How much do you want to feel me fill you, little dove?"

"I'd give up chocolate to fuck you right now." He laughed, and she shook her head. "I can't believe I said that."

"Stop. As you wish, my little dove," he cooed.

With his hands on her ass, he pushed up until her pussy opened up for him, and he let her fall onto his rigid, throbbing cock. Both moaning, she took all of him without any hesitation.

"Your cunt is so hot. You are ready for me, aren't you?"

Nodding, she moaned, "Oooh, fuck, yes. I ... You ... You feel sooo good."

Both getting a grip of the other, she gyrated her hips back and forth, allowing his pubic hair to rub up against her clit, adding friction that made her whimper.

For the next several minutes, she took control of the speed and how deeply she took him, and she knew he liked it from the sounds he was making. Wanting more of him, she smashed her breasts against his chest, crushed her lips against his and kissed him hungrily, which he returned two-fold.

Their breathing in sync, he started to pump his hips as she ground into him, both quickly reaching climax. Needing to cum badly, she tightened her grip of his cock with her PC muscles, holding it a moment before letting go.

"Yes. YES! FUCK ME!" he screamed, his body tensing. "Your pussy is mine, bitch."

It took her a second before she realized what he said. Her head flew back, but she kept pumping her hips. When she felt her pussy pulse against his rod, she knew she was close to the edge.

Breathlessly, she put her forehead on his and whispered, "I am your bitch, Sir."

It was a shock to hear him call her a bitch – a no-no for her – but to hearher say it was a completely different story.

Not being able to hold back the orgasm any longer, she screamed, "Master, I'm coming. I'm ... COMING!"

"Give it to me! NOW!"

With the last word, she buried her face in his neck as her pussy pulsated, and her orgasm exploded through her from the inside out. Realizing he hadn't come with her, still riding the welcomed relief, she whimpered loudly in his ear, "Come with me. I need to feel ..."

And with that, his cock burst inside of her with a loud moan from him. They held onto each other for the longest time as they tried to control their breathing, their hearts pounding furiously against the others.

"Mmm," she whispered, pulling back and sliding her hand to his shoulders. "Wow."

"Use your words," he teased.

She giggled as he fell on his back, and with his hands behind her she landed on top of him, his cock still inside of her. Resting her head on his collarbone, she panted, "That was an 8-1/2."

"What the fuck, lass! You'rerating me?"

"Yep. On a scale of one to five."

Her body shook with his laughter. Looking up at him, she cupped his cheek and ran her thumb over his chin. "Your skin is so soft."

"Thank you. I use a special manly moisturizer."

"Oh, god. I asked for that, didn't I?"

He kissed her forehead. "You most certainly did." He hesitated a moment. "Gayle, did I offend you by calling you a bitch?"

"It shocked me at first, but I think I was a little ... gone. In the heat of the moment, no, it didn't bother me."

And it was the truth. She never talked dirty like that before, but she sure did like it now.

"Yes, you were gone. Do you remember what you called me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean ... I don't remember what I called you."

Brushing her damp hair from her temples, he replied, "You called me Master. Would you like to address me as such?"

She thought about it a moment, a very quick moment. "No Sir. I wouldn't."

Kissing her nose, he said, "It's quite alright. Thank you for being honest with me."

Suddenly, Bessie let out a furious barking, her nails scratched at the door.

"Crap. I would have liked to stay here with you a bit longer," she moaned as she pushed herself up.

Giving her a quick kiss, he said, "As would I. But we'll have plenty of nights we can hold each other. Would you like that?"

Carefully slipping him out of her and standing on her wobbly knees, she said, "I would, my kind Sir, Master Hamish."

Sitting up, he narrowed his eyes at her but wore a crooked grin. "Don't push it."

Bowing, she teased, "Oh, forgive me, my King. I'm allergic to the guillotine!"

"Oh, hush, now, and let Bessie out, please." He chuckled and shook his head.

Wednesday, August 21th, 2013

"Drive on the left. Drive on the left. Drive on the left."

Gayle had just gotten on the main road on her way to Cupar just after one o'clock for her first shopping spree after cleaning up Hamish's bedroom, the kitchen and straightened up the drawing room. She was excited, it being her first day of freedom in weeks, but she was also unbelievably nervous. She just knew she wouldn't make it to town without hitting another car after she looked left instead of right for oncoming traffic. Her stomach churned at the thought of getting in a bad accident, not to mention possibly hurting someone else.

"Get a grip. Pay attention. Drive on the left."

By the time she arrived in town and parked in the lot, her knuckles were white and very sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Turning off the ignition, she shoved the GPS under the passenger seat and grabbed her purse.

"I did it!" she cheered and planned to have a glass of wine with lunch to celebrate.

Regaining her composure, she headed down St. Catherine Street, leisurely looking around in awe. The first thing she saw was a beautiful Greek statue of an angel in a beautiful flowing gown, her arms outstretched with wings that seemed to spread to the sky forever. Reading the plaque, it was a War Memorial for soldiers from WWI and WWII. She made a mental note to take a picture of it on her way out.

Expecting the downtown area to be ancient, she was surprised to see how modern it was, instead, though she was sure it was because of the names of the stores that lost its antiquity. Coming to another street, she glanced at the names for a store that would sell cameras but kept going down St. Catherine to see what else was down there. She hoped there would be some restaurants or a pub because she was already hungry when she left the house. She passed a hairdresser's shop, and across the two lane, narrow street was a lingerie store, giving her some wicked ideas for her next trip.

Taking her time and looking around, she came across a small courthouse of a small church building next to a bigger church. It was gray brick with two narrow sections with windows and a section in the middle with a steeple. Reading the sign for St. John's Parish Church, it was only built in 1878, but to her it should have been several centuries old from the looks of it.

The bigger church was Bonnygate Baptist Church, built of sandstone, only in 1866, and just as narrow as the first but the sanctuary went back, meeting with another parallel section. The front double doors had a beautifully carved archway, and above that was a rose-shaped window. On either side were spires, the left taller with a bell tower; the right shorter with three small arched windows on street level and two tall, narrow windows with another smaller rose-shaped window over that. Something odd was jetting out from a corner on the very top, and at closer inspection it was a gargoyle, seemingly half dragon, half monster. Knowing she'd be back, she decided to check out the chapel on another day.

The shops ahead didn't seem to have any restaurants or pubs, not to mention a camera store, so she headed down a narrow alley. Luckily, the alley opened up to a small square with plenty of restaurants, many with tables set outside, which were pretty full since it was lunch time. Walking around and checking out each menu, she settled on Ostlers Close, which seemed to have an upscale seafood menu. Already knowing what she wanted – a salad with wild mushrooms and red onion marmalade that came with locally made bread – the hostess sat her at a table on the outside of the eating area.

The waitress arrived quickly and was very cordial when she realized Gayle was American. She gave her directions to Frye's Camera shop which was only a block away.

While she waited, she received a text from Hamish. 'did you make it here or are you in ireland?'

She chuckled. 'no Sir. sweden is lovely this time of year'

'good one!'

'i'm here. getting lunch right now. gotta get the camera'

'ok. good. don't be late tonight'

'i won't. my ass won't let me'

'ha ha. See you then'

Just then the waitress brought her salad, and it was more than she expected it to be. For some odd reason she assumed Scots, and Brits, for that matter, always ate a light lunch.

Enjoying it tremendously, she was about halfway through eating when a tall, very attractive woman with short-cropped, strawberry red hair walked passed her on her cell phone and stood within hearing range. The woman had a very heavy Irish accent and started talking loudly, so it wasn't like she was trying to keep her conversation very private.

"Sharon, I'm still at lunch. It's looking good! I'm putting on the charm. He's already putty in my hands. With his money, I'll have it made. Cheers."

Suddenly she walked away, and in a way Gayle wanted to hear more but was a little disgusted that she was having lunch with a man simply for his money.

Thankfully she found a reasonably priced camera, and on her way back to the parking lot at a major intersection, she saw a sign on the second story of a building. "McDougal, Duff & Gordon."

Huh. I wonder if that's Hamish's office. Would he mind me popping in?

Looking at her watch, she grimaced when she saw it was already three thirty, and she was cramping from being on her period. She decided since she was meeting up with Jessie to make cranachan, a desert from raspberries she pulled from her garden, it was a good time to leave. As soon as Jessie mentioned it the day before, her mouth had been watering, made from toasted oatmeal, soaked overnight in a little whisky, served with a mixture of whipped cream, honey and the raspberries.

Heading back to the car park, she turned a corner and ran into a woman on the phone with red hair carrying several shopping bags – the same woman who was on the phone outside the restaurant. Gayle couldn't avoid her, and the woman bumped into Gayle's shoulder pretty hard.

"Get out of my way, you stupid cow," she spat, giving Gayle a long, hard, nasty look before stomping off.

Well so much for the Scots being a friendly people.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Hamish and Gayle had just finished breakfast, and he told her to go upstairs and change into the clothes he'd set out for her on her bed. They were having their bowling battle this morning, and she'd already thought of her reward when she won –if she won, and only if she cheated.

Walking into her bedroom, she cringed at the worn out, tattered, much-to-small t-shirt with huge red lips and long tongue. Picking it up, she smiled when she saw 'Rolling Stones.' Taking off her apron skirt, she put on her underwear and bra then the t-shirt, and it was exactly what she feared. It actually fit fine in all the right places, except the breasts. She felt like they were balloons.

"You've got to be kidding me," she sighed heavily.

"You use that phrase a lot, don't you?" Hamish asked as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin on his face.

Looking down on her chest, she replied, "When you have me wearing ho clothes, yes." She chuckled as she slipped on her jeans.

"Ho clothes? How's your situation?" She looked at him very confused. "Your curse?"

"Huh?" Then she got what he was trying to say. "Oh. Eve's curse. Yeah, I'm done."

He smiled wildly. "Brilliant! I already know what I'm going to do to you when I win."

"With the fifty pin lead you are going to give me, it is I that shall beat you ... Sir."

"Fifty?! I don't think so."

"I don't have my own ball or my shoes. I'm playing at a disadvantage."

"Ten," he offered.

"Nope," she said, hanging her apron up.

"Fifteen," he counter-offered.

"Okay," she said approaching the door. "Twenty-five."

"Deal ... Wait!"

Gayle burst out laughing as she went to the bathroom.

"I'll let Bessie out. Meet me downstairs," he said.

A few minutes later when they were on the road, he said, "Now, while we're out, I want you to call me Hamish. And I also want you to relax and enjoy yourself. Think you can do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Working for you has left me a bundle of nerves," she said seriously. "I find it awfully hard to relax around you."

His eyes flew open as he looked at her sharply. Seeing her hard face, he asked softly, "Gayle, are you serious?"

She burst out laughing. "No Sir. I'm just playing with you."

Shaking his head, he reached out and tweaked her nipple hard. "OW!" From that point on, her nipples stayed erect and sensitive, and that would play nicely to her advantage, knowing he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of her chest.

As they drove into the Cupar Bowling Club complex, it wasn't exactly what she was expecting. It was far from being big enough to hold forty lanes like the States have, but because there seemed to be more space behind it, maybe there was another building in the back.

After he turned off the engine, Gayle reached for the door handle. "Oh, no you don't, Ms. Boyce. Won't you allow me the honor of showing my chivalry?" His tone was light and playful.

"Wouldn't I have to be swept away by a knight, or something?"

He grinned as he walked to her door, and as he opened it, he said, "If you find a knight, I shall kill him outright and spank you until you can't walk for a year."

She took his outstretched hand and let him pull her out. After he closed the door, she replied, "If you are looking for a princess, then it is only fair I find my prince."

The expression on his face stopped her cold. To her it was like she'd stabbed him with a sword. But she wasn't about to explain herself or play it off as teasing him because she was serious. She was a little put off that he appeared to be jealous – yet again.

And jealous Hamish was. It was innocent enough her teasing him, but still he had to reign in his big, bad, green monster.

She walked toward the front doors, but Hamish took her hand and tugged her to the side of the building to a double-door gate, not letting go of her hand. "I want to show you something, first," he said as he opened the gate.

Following him, she was correct in that there was more space in the back – alot more space. In fact, there was a small stadium with about ten rows of long bleachers on either side of three lawn greens, all in the middle of a match.

"There's been a little change of plans," he told her as they approached a smaller building. "We're not exactly ten-pin bowling. I will teach you the ancient Scottish tradition of lawn bowling."

Letting go of his hand, she stopped. "Sir ... Hamish, I don't know how to lawn bowl! You tricked me!" She was afraid she overdid her tone to give her away, but from his reaction she was safe.

"No worries, lass. I will teach you everything you need to know," he told her as they entered. "I've taught teenaged boys how to fly gliders, and they didn't crash."

A man helped Gayle choose bowls, a cylindrical 'ball' that was just barely oblong and put them in a sack. "Here you are," the man said as he handed it to Hamish. "Your green will be ready shortly. They're just finishing up, I think."

"Right. It'll give me enough time to go over the rules with Gayle. She's ... visiting from Washington, D.C., and she doesn't –"

"Oh!" the man interrupted. "My ex and I went there last year. Lovely city."

As he spoke, she noticed his light blue-gray colored eyes that shone brightly with his dark brown hair. She had to fight back stuttering like an idiot and nodded shyly. "It is, but I live just outside the city in Maryland."

"Tell me, have they finished repairing the Monument? I was looking forward to the view from the top," he said, moving from behind the counter and standing next to Gayle. "That earthquake did a lot of damage, eh? I sure wouldn't have wanted to be on top when it hit."

"It really did. The National Cathedral had more damage. The scaffolding on the Monument is still up, but it's pretty lit at night with the lights they put up."

Suddenly she noticed Hamish shuffling his feet, so she didn't say anything more.

"Cheers, Luke," Hamish said curtly as he led them away.

Walking back outside, Gayle whispered, "That was kind of rude."

"No more rude than him blatantly flirting with you."

"Oh, he was not!"

"A normal conversation with any Scot is a pick up line. Jack met Lily when he claimed he couldn't unlock his new cellphone."

"No way," she chuckled. Walking toward the bleachers and after they sat down, she turned to him. "Sir, me talking to a man doesn't mean anything. And whether they are flirting or not doesn't matter. I've already told you I'm not going home with them."

That seemed to do the trick, and he visibly relaxed. "Don't mind me. I guess I'm a little ... overprotective."

Putting her hand on his forearm, she replied, "And I appreciate it, but you have nothing to worry about."

It took him a moment before he shook his head. He wasn't used to anyone being so open and honest about their feelings. It had always taken him a while before he could ever open his heart, and here she was – creaking the door open inch by inch every single day.

Clearing his throat, he turned to the players on the greens and began to explain the rules of the game. "The player stands on the rubber mat on one end, and the white ball, referred to as the jack, stays at the far end. The bowls are thrown to get as close to the jack as possible."

"So why aren't they aiming for the jack straight on?" she asked.

"There are ridges on the outsides of the bowls that make it curve, also known as bias. It's all strategic planning and how hard or soft you throw the bowl. The curve allows the player to get behind bowls that have already been played. Each player has four bowls. I'll toss the jack to the opposite side of the green, and I'll allow you a few practice shots to get used to the 120-feet distance. The goal is to get as many of your four bowls closest to the jack."

Studying the green and watching the players, she asked, "The blue one hit the yellow one. Is that allowed?"