Some of my stories are complete fiction, others are based on stories told me by others as true experiences, but this one is a story that actually happened to me. The personalities are accurately portrayed to the best of my ability. I've added a little kink to make it more interesting for me and hopefully for you the reader, but fundamentally it was real and happened.
Boy, was I a basket case. I had tried clumsily to kill myself over a girl whom I was mildly obsessed with. It was just short of stalker on my part, but I didn't let myself take it that far. I gave her space, and we stayed friends. Heather, another American in my college exchange program, had a boyfriend and did have feelings for me, but it never got beyond making out. I was a virgin and 21.
It was the summer of 1986, and I had finished my year abroad. Heather was gone, so I decided to do a week of traveling before I ambled my way back to Heathrow and a return home. Because I had some Scottish heritage, Edinburgh was at the top of my itinerary. After I arrived on the train, I stowed my bag in a station locker and went in search of hotel, hopefully nearby. I consulted a tourism kiosk, selected a hotel that sounded reasonably priced for my student budget, grabbed a quick lunch, retrieved my bag and took a cab to the Glenora Hotel, which was near the big park and a couple of miles from the castle.
The middle-aged lady running the place told me two rooms were available. I paid her and went up. To put it nicely, the place was a bit "careworn" at the time, but it looked clean and at 21 and being on a budget it would do ... until. I discovered the door would not lock, so I went down politely to complain. The manager and I went up to look at it. She told me gently the other room already was taken and I would have to lump it. By this time, we were back at the desk and the woman who had taken the other room was handing in her key. It was Morag. She overheard the tail end of our conversation and offered to let me keep my bag in her room. The manager thanked her and asked if that would be OK. I was pretty poor and I had nothing but clothes and toiletries so I decided to risk it for the piece of mind. The manager promised to let me in to get it later if I needed to.
Morag was a tan, well-built woman a few inches shorter than my five-nine. She had curly, dirty blonde hair and a great smile. I would guess she was about 30. We exchanged pleasantries and information about what we planned to see. I mentioned the park and castle.
What is a shame now is I remember almost nothing I did in Edinburgh. I know I never made it to the castle, and I think I did an Underground Edinburgh tour but I can't say for certain. I did cool off in the park in the shade at some point. I must have grabbed dinner somewhere, gone back and gone to bed early.
I do remember breakfast in the morning. UK food is famously bad, but the British and Scottish do a pretty decent breakfast in my book. I was seated alone at a small table in the hotel dining room. Morag took a seat at the small table near me. We chatted, and I think we spent the day together after that, saw the sites and finished up with dinner at a nice Indian restaurant. We hit it off and I discovered she was Canadian and engaged to be married to a British doctor she had met while she was working as a nurse and he was doing a fellowship in Winnipeg where she lived. When I heard that I abandoned all hope we would be a romantic pair. Maybe that's why we got along. I didn't awkwardly make a play, and I am sure at that time in my life it would have been awkward.
After dinner, we bought a couple of bottles of wine in a place on the way to the hotel and she invited me back to her room. It was the last night in Edinburgh for both of us, and innocently I thought nothing of the invitation other than we both were hungry for simple companionship, I thought.
At this point, I should paint the full picture. I was pretty damn cute at 21. No, I wasn't an athletic type. I was more of what some folks might term a 'twink' today. I was slender but not skinny, my hair was a dark brown and I was told I had great eyes and, oddly enough, legs.
I remember sitting on the floor with Morag and getting progressively drunk. Looking back, I think Morag stayed deliberately one or two drinks behind me the whole time. She talked about her fiance, and once I was under the influence, I talked about Heather and her lousy boyfriend Philip. Despite being shy about sex, I was a pretty good conversationalist even then, and the wine sure helped.
"You sure are cute," she said right before she leaned over and kissed me. I was surprised and she laughed gently at my face when she pulled back. "Oh, come on. Surely you've been kissed."
"Yeah, Heather and I kissed, but we never did anything more," I mumbled. "I'm a virgin."
Now, it was her turn to express shock.
"Wow, really?" I was terrified she was about to mock me for that, but she didn't. Instead, she said, "That's a relief" with a big, bright smile.
At the time, the statement just impacted on the surface. Later, I realized what that meant in the AIDS era. It meant I was safe sex. Morag was a nurse so I am sure she knew all the risks otherwise. Being a virgin was a major plus for me and at any other time, it might have been a negative.
With that same smile, she pulled her top and bra off in one motion and threw both on top of her suitcase in the corner. Her breasts were quite enticing, not huge but very well shaped with half-dollar size nipples. Morag had a full body tan. I was sitting on my ass with my legs tucked to the side. She lowered a nipple to my lips, and I acted on instinct, licking and then sucking one then the other.
She sighed saying, "That feels so good, Bob. So good. ... I've been so fucking horny."
Still somewhat drunk, I probably was not terribly artful in my sucking, making loud noises now and then. I murmured a complaint about being thirsty, and without a word, Morag popped up and returned with two glasses of tap water, one for her and one for me.
"You drank more than me, but we both should hydrate," she said, handing me the glass, which I downed in two or three gulps. Morag sipped hers. I must have looked forlorn and worried because she chuckled and said, "Don't worry. I'm not done with you."
She laid down on her bed and patted the top of it beside her.
"Get up here, Bobby boy, and keep sucking my tits," she commanded.
I did as she said and laid next to her on my front, resuming the sucking. At some point, I managed to find myself between her legs continuing with the same thing. It was easier to alternate between breasts and nipples in that position. I licked and kissed down her chest and abdomen toward her crotch, and then I started to pull her pants down. I remember they were black with an elastic band, somewhere between sweatpants and Capris in style. Morag stopped me.
In a plaintive voice, I said, "I just want to lick you," and she smiled slightly and said, "OK."
Now, if you were a virgin male in 1986, or maybe it was just me, that first glimpse of pussy felt like the treasure of treasures. Neither of us had showered and each of us was a little sweaty, but in the situation, this seemed to only enhance my arousal, probably hers, too.
Her panties were plain, a solid black and as I pulled them and her pants down she lifted her ass to help. When I glimpsed the dark patch of hair between her legs, I paused. Morag had to give me a fake cough to continue and soon she was naked except for her fluffy ankle socks, which she pressed against my back as I kissed her inner thighs and breathed in her scent, which was strong but enticing.
Finally, I kissed her vulva and started licking. She gasped at the contact and let out a little moan. I was naturally tentative and hyperaware of her reactions, trying to use them as a guide. My tongue traveled from the cleft between her thigh and vulva, through her bush and gradually toward the lips of her pussy. That first taste was amazing to me, salty, wet and slightly bitter. What amazed me was the combination of different scents. Maybe it was the wine, but one second she smelt of the ocean, and the next of something like smoke. Slowly, I licked deeper and deeper, and she got wetter and wetter. Her breathing became heavier and faster. My nose bumped the base of her clit and she moaned.
"You're doing great, Bob."
