Lizzy moaned slowly and deeply as she wrapped all her limbs around him and pressed her face against his shoulder. Her tight embrace slowed his strokes... even her cunt seemed to be clasping his member tightly, as if not wanting to ever let it go. Patrick found it harder to hold back as the feel of her long curly hair, her smell and her taste were nearly overwhelming him. He was teetering on the edge and the one push that sent him over was the feel of his earlobe being clenched between Lizzy’s. She looked stunning. A genuine Scot’s kilt with the obligatory sporran, long socks with knife tucked in, a white frilly-fronted and cuffed shirt and a black, short jacket with brass buttons. She wore a black bow tie. ‘How do I look?’ ‘Sumptuous.’ ‘Good enough to eat?’ I smiled and she lifted the front of her kilt to reveal that she, at least, followed the alleged tradition that nothing should be worn beneath it. Her eyebrow lifted and I knew what was expected of me. Hitching up my dress as she. More

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