As I got dressed that morning I started to wonder what I had let myself for. I had volunteered to act as a Marshal in a Kiltwalk charity fund raising marathon walk from Glasgow and ending in Baloch Park.
I had already attended a training session where we learned the course route, where the choke points were and the food and water stations. We also learnt what the safety precautions were and how to use the communications system, in case we needed help at our waypoint, I also met a number of other volunteers on the day.
I had bought a new kilt for the event, my old one had to be retired. It was a red tartan sports kilt that I chose this time from a US company. It was made of light weight composite material and was made with five yards of material Vs the traditional nine yards heavy wool weight.
I also had the drop reduced from the traditional twenty four inches to twenty one inches to give a more comfortable and waist positioning fit for me. The main disadvantage being it could be blown about, although a kilt pin would help to contain it, I had forgotten to buy a suitable one, my existing one had to be pensioned off too. O'well onwards and upwards as the say.
As I was flexible in the location's I could cover I had pulled a last stage shift where the sponsored kilted walkers ended their marathon, exhausted and often wet and sometimes not too steady on their feet. We were to give them encouragement to do the last 500 yards, although it did feel like 500 miles to them.
I appeared that day on YouTube many times, as the runners posted selfies of themselves arriving at the final stage, with me cheering them on the background with my red kilt which was precariously swinging about.
My partner at the waypoint was Shane, as he preferred to be called, whom I had met at the training day, we seemed to get on very well together. He was about five foot eight, a bit taller than me, although we were about the same age and build, his build was very much toned than mine; that's life.
He also had a red sports kilt on too, from the logo on it, he must have purchased it from the same company as I did and he looked stunning in it with his colorful charity logoed rain jacket with muddy boots, socks and legs. We both wore utility belts to carry our mobile phones etc.
It was starting to get dark as the last of the runners arrived at our waypoint, it had rained that day and parts of the course were wet and muddy; as they were too. We were wet and muddy also, and cold standing there for almost six hours, when the tail-end Marshalls signaled to us that the last of the runners had arrive home. We were pleased that we could finish our shift and go home to get something hot to eat and drink.
As Shane and I walked back to the Marshalls tent to sign off, we overheard someone saying there was something wrong with the trains back to Glasgow and that the last volunteer's bus had already left. I was ok as I had my car but Shane didn't, I offered him a lift back as I could go that way. He was very gratefully accepted the offer.
We walked back to where I had parked my car, passing a café I suggested we have a warming coffee and something to eat, he said no lets go back to my place. I said ok. As we continued our walk to my car, he added that, I should tell you that I am gay and a lot of people are uncomfortable being with me because of it. I was intrigued by his statement and curious about him, I think I may have thought he may have been gay. I said ok no worries.
We arrived back at his apartment about a half an hour later. Prior to going in we both removed our wet, muddy boots and socks and left them on a shoe rack just inside his door. Our feet and legs were now muddy and cold, Shane showed me where his bathroom was where we could wipe off the mud from our bare and now very cold legs.
As we both stood there washing the mud off with nice warm water, he noticed that I had missed some of the mud on the back of my legs and leaned over and wiped it off. It was quite sensual having someone rub the back and inside of you cold legs with a soft warm wet cloth. Restoring the circulation in my legs and warming them up, if I am honest felt it a bit erotic and arousing.
As I looked at his legs I saw he had also missed some mud on the back of his legs too, I lifted a warm wet cloth leaned over to him and wiped the mud off. Which he encouraged me to do, by turning the back of his leg to me, opening his legs to allow me to rub up and down their inside too. When we had dried our legs Shane led me into his living room and turned on a gas fire. We stood there together in our kilts warming the back of our legs in front of the fire.
Once we had warmed up, he invited me to sit on his couch opposite the fire and went into the kitchen to make some coffee and warm toast for us. After about five minutes he arrived back with warm coffee and toast. Although they were other chairs in the room he sat next to me on his two seater couch.
After finishing our coffee and toast we sat their talking about the day and how it had went. He noticed the scar on my left leg calf and asked what happened. I explained an accident and subsequent operation to remove some metal that was lodged in it. Side effect was that part of my leg below the calf had limited feeling, quite weird when you touched it, without really feeling anything.
I skewed round talking to face him, crooked my left leg over resting it on my right knee and touched where the scar was. Shane seeing it as an invitation, maybe it was, leaned over and touched it too, he ran his finger along my scar ever so gently. It was quite an exhilarating and arousing feeling, to have someone do that to you.
I didn't object, perhaps I should have. He then moved the palm of his hand over onto my right inner leg and rubbed it gently where it was exposed. When I had crooked my leg over my kilt front, not having a kilt pin holding it place had loosened and exposing my inner leg, with hindsight inviting. But I was very relaxed about it, he then crooked round on the couch to face me.
