cock ran up my thighs until the head rested against the entrance to my vagina. It was huge and, as it pushed patiently through my drenched lips, the walls of my hot pussy were expanding and contracting, pushing back, the giant cock greased by my orgasm sliding slowly, inevitably, like a landslide up inside me, breaking my hymen. Iâd finally lost my virginity and it was a little thrill that the Laird didnât even know.
My mouth fell open. I closed my eyes. I was a woman. I was making love, and it was like nothing Iâd ever known before because Iâd never done it before. My hips bucked and rolled. I pushed back, thrusting out my thrashed bottom, absorbing every inch of the monster. I was impaled, skewered, his big balls like church bells chiming mutely against my thighs, his coarse hair chafing my soft skin as he rammed into me harder and harder, faster and faster.
It grew more intense, more ferocious. He held me in one big hand and with the other started slapping my hips and sides as if urging a race horse to take a high fence, and I took the fence, and the next one, pushing back against the Laird and taking everything he had to give.
He started to groan, his voice emerging from far away, from deep down in the depths of his immense body. He was vanishing inside me, withdrawing almost entirely, then plunging back between the drenched walls of my pussy with great ardent thrusts, my thighs locked, my back arched in a bow, my arms stretched out until both Binky and I rose clean off thetable and I felt like a bird flying through the air. I was being split apart like a length of wood, the Lairdâs cock a sharpened axe, and then he exploded, roaring, pumping into me, and his semen was an endless gush like oil from a well, like lava from an erupting volcano, like a tidal wave, like a soft warm sea.
Byron was mutely wailing in the background. So was Binky. So was I. I was climaxing again, my body hollowed out. The contractions felt as if I were giving birth, and I was, to a new part of myself, to my future. The Laird kept pumping away, but already he was growing softer and already I sensed a woeful absence as his giant penis slipped from me on a torrent of steaming sperm. I could smell it, rich like fresh milk, thick as cream.
Now that it was over, I felt drained and, I had to admit, indecently satisfied. Binky was panting, her eyes staring without seeing, her cheek resting on the tabletop, the ridge of her bottom rising and falling. My ribs were bruised. My breasts hurt. The lips of my pussy were opening and closing, quivering like a sea anemone as the Lairdâs sperm oozed from me like syrup in bubbling slurps, vulgar and sensuous. The Laird caught his breath. He gave my backside a playful slap.
âYouâre a good girl, lassie,â he said and, absurdly, I felt proud.
Byron straightened his kilt, then released the bindings at our wrists. We slid apart and I came shakily to my feet. The Laird took me by the arms and stared into my eyes.
âNow, is that better?â he asked seriously, and I bit my lips and nodded.
Binky was still lying across the table, the tips of her toes just touching the floor. Byron was examining herand, when the Laird joined him, I followed, the sap and semen turning cold as it trickled down the insides of my legs.
Binkyâs swollen vulva was pressed between her thighs and Byronâs emissions put a gloss over the inflamed pattern that covered the entire surface of her bottom. I stared and it was hard to turn my head away. I was transfixed, mesmerised. Binkyâs bottom was fiery red, glowing like the flames in the fire, the six livid stripes from the crop the same African violet as the trim on Binkyâs pink car: the same colour as the lines running down the Lairdâs kilt.
My mouth dropped open. My heart skipped. I stared at his kilt, then up into his eyes. He smiled, nodding his head warmly.
âAye, lassie,â he said. âYouâre a
My mouth fell open. I closed my eyes. I was a woman. I was making love, and it was like nothing Iâd ever known before because Iâd never done it before. My hips bucked and rolled. I pushed back, thrusting out my thrashed bottom, absorbing every inch of the monster. I was impaled, skewered, his big balls like church bells chiming mutely against my thighs, his coarse hair chafing my soft skin as he rammed into me harder and harder, faster and faster.
It grew more intense, more ferocious. He held me in one big hand and with the other started slapping my hips and sides as if urging a race horse to take a high fence, and I took the fence, and the next one, pushing back against the Laird and taking everything he had to give.
He started to groan, his voice emerging from far away, from deep down in the depths of his immense body. He was vanishing inside me, withdrawing almost entirely, then plunging back between the drenched walls of my pussy with great ardent thrusts, my thighs locked, my back arched in a bow, my arms stretched out until both Binky and I rose clean off thetable and I felt like a bird flying through the air. I was being split apart like a length of wood, the Lairdâs cock a sharpened axe, and then he exploded, roaring, pumping into me, and his semen was an endless gush like oil from a well, like lava from an erupting volcano, like a tidal wave, like a soft warm sea.
Byron was mutely wailing in the background. So was Binky. So was I. I was climaxing again, my body hollowed out. The contractions felt as if I were giving birth, and I was, to a new part of myself, to my future. The Laird kept pumping away, but already he was growing softer and already I sensed a woeful absence as his giant penis slipped from me on a torrent of steaming sperm. I could smell it, rich like fresh milk, thick as cream.
Now that it was over, I felt drained and, I had to admit, indecently satisfied. Binky was panting, her eyes staring without seeing, her cheek resting on the tabletop, the ridge of her bottom rising and falling. My ribs were bruised. My breasts hurt. The lips of my pussy were opening and closing, quivering like a sea anemone as the Lairdâs sperm oozed from me like syrup in bubbling slurps, vulgar and sensuous. The Laird caught his breath. He gave my backside a playful slap.
âYouâre a good girl, lassie,â he said and, absurdly, I felt proud.
Byron straightened his kilt, then released the bindings at our wrists. We slid apart and I came shakily to my feet. The Laird took me by the arms and stared into my eyes.
âNow, is that better?â he asked seriously, and I bit my lips and nodded.
Binky was still lying across the table, the tips of her toes just touching the floor. Byron was examining herand, when the Laird joined him, I followed, the sap and semen turning cold as it trickled down the insides of my legs.
Binkyâs swollen vulva was pressed between her thighs and Byronâs emissions put a gloss over the inflamed pattern that covered the entire surface of her bottom. I stared and it was hard to turn my head away. I was transfixed, mesmerised. Binkyâs bottom was fiery red, glowing like the flames in the fire, the six livid stripes from the crop the same African violet as the trim on Binkyâs pink car: the same colour as the lines running down the Lairdâs kilt.
My mouth dropped open. My heart skipped. I stared at his kilt, then up into his eyes. He smiled, nodding his head warmly.
âAye, lassie,â he said. âYouâre a
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