Dreich, dreich and more dreich, the weather was like my mood as I wended my way north, further into the wilderness. My 70’s camper van was struggling. Both with the inclines and the onslaught of the relentlessly determined rainfall, each long mile was accompanied by a periodic screech of the wiper blades battling bravely to clear the screens. And to think this was August!
I had a long and tough period at work, and I’d called a halt to take myself off for a mental and physical reset in the most beautiful part of the British Isles (hey, my opinion), Wester Ross and the north-western Highlands of Scotland. I’d been driving most of the day as I’d set out early from Yorkshire. It had been like this since Perth.
After a stop for lunch and a refuel in Dingwall, I rejoined the road west towards Ullapool. This was where it got interesting as the roads got more twisty and turny so caution favours the brave in something like a ’73 camper. About 30 minutes later, I turned left towards my final destination, the area surrounding Gairloch. I’d not yet decided on a place to pitch up. Thanks to the wild camping rules, you could usually find somewhere remote and not be bothered by anyone.
As I headed towards Achnasheen, the weather took a turn for the worse, and what had just been a heavy form of drizzle became a sustained downpour. The wipers went into overdrive and were still struggling to keep up. Nearly an hour later, I trundled through Kinlochewe at the start of the normally glorious Loch Maree, but there was no view - just misty murk.
Then out of the gloom, I saw a lone figure, hand out more in forlorn hope than expectation. I pulled up to offer the poor soul some salvation from the misery of the weather. This is traditional and expected behaviour this far north and in remote communities. It takes some getting used to as a city dweller where we all keep ourselves to ourselves, but I guess being in the scene maybe makes you a bit more open to new people. Either way, I wasn’t going to leave this poor sod to get even wetter.
“Act, thanks so much for stopping. It’s awful out there” I was assaulted by the soft timbre of a female Highlander. Having a real thing for soft Scottish accents, my interest was immediately piqued. “It’s nae bother. Looks awful out there”, I replied. Once firmly inside, my new passenger divested herself of her hood and looked at me. A tangle of dark curls, soft befreckled face, fulsome lips and the most arresting glacial blue eyes. “I’ve been oot there an hour. I’d almost given up hope. Thought I might have to walk to Poolewe!”. Poolewe was another 20 or so miles away, and there isn’t much of a bus service out this way.
“Happy to help. So Poolewe?” I inquired. “Uhhuh, if that’s OK? Where were you headed?” My stunning stranger-passenger asked in return. “Gairloch, most likely. But I hadn’t decided where to stop, to be fair. Hopefully, somewhere quiet. I need some downtime, so a view of the water would be ideal. Any ideas? I’m Mark, by the way”. “Fiona. Do you know the area?” my Gaelic companion asked. “Aye, I’m usually up here at least once a year for the last ten or so”, I replied.
I could sense her eyes on me. Studying me. I looked across, “Have I got something on my face?” I asked, worried I’d been talking whilst having remnants of my food stop back in Dingwall on me.
“No, I was sussing you out”, Fiona replied with a wry smile on her face. “Actually, I’ve got a croft on the far edge of Poolewe on the way out to Firemore. You know it?”. “Not the croft but the area? Yeah, it’s beautiful out that way.”, I replied. “Well, I have a piece of hard standing overlooking the loch, which you’re free to use for a few days if you like.”. A little too quickly, I responded, “That’d be great. Thanks so much”.
We drove along for a wee bit longer in amiable silence as we wove our way down into Gairloch and then out the other side towards Poolewe. As we approached the small village that sat on Loch Ewe, Fiona said, “Do you fancy grabbing a coffee? There’s a great little cafe in the village. We could stop off, pick up some supplies and then get you to your new home for the next few days?”. I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to spend more time with this beautiful face in close proximity, “Sure, I said.” Desperately trying to play it cool and no doubt failing.
We pulled up into the small parking area in the centre of the hamlet cum village. The weather was starting to clear. Not quite four seasons in one day, but not far off. We wandered over to the cafe and found a table by the window. Fiona shrugged herself out of her soaking jacket. Underwear the weather protection was a woman in her prime, maybe mid-30s, possibly as old as 40, with average body shape, gorgeous, pert bum and a generous bosom being restrained by a blouse. Which was a little wet where the waterproofing of her jacket had been overwhelmed. “Oi, my face is up here”. Clearly, I’d been mesmerised, and Fiona’s playful tone woke me from my reverie. “Sorry. But it’s been a while”, I offered by way of apology. “You and me both, pet”, Fiona returned with a coy smile. I wonder, I thought…
To avoid it becoming awkward too early, I studied the menu with studious intent. With drinks and some amazing-looking cake ordered, we talked about work, mine, the need for this break, what I intended to do whilst up here etc. Fiona told me about her life, her wish to lead a simpler life and therefore taking on a croft with some sheep, and how lonely life here could be. I understood the attraction of the wilderness and remoteness, hell, I sought it out often enough. But I could also sense how that might be counter-productive if you were on your own here, permanently.
After a very enjoyable hour chatting, Fiona suggested we make a move, pick up some supplies at the nearby McColls and then head back to hers. Supplies collected, we headed by to the van and drove the final 6 miles or so to Fiona’s place. We pulled onto her property, and Fiona directed me to the hard standing that sat off to the side of her croft.
“Give me a half hour to square up, and then why don’t you come in for a brew?” Fiona said. “Thanks, will do,” I said. As she left the van, the sun broke through the clouds and cascade sun rays across the sea loch. Today was going to be a good day.
I started to tidy the van, making the bed up for later, always better to tackle that in daylight, and then I went for a walk to assess my new home for the next few days.
As I let the Highland air fill my lungs, I roamed, letting nature assault my senses and scrub my cares away. It truly is a transformative place, the peace, the solitude with nothing but birdsong and the wind for company. And perhaps a stunningly charming Scottish lass? Time would tell.
After a brief walk, I made my way back to the croft and politely knocked on the door. “Come in”, came the soft burr from within. I entered the croft into the kitchen, where Fiona was busy boiling a kettle on her stove. “Take a seat”, she offered, and I pulled up at the table. Over the next hour or so, we extended the easy conversation we’d had at the cafe. Fiona was an only child and had always been happy in her own company. She had a love of animals, so being a crofter was likely the most sensible occupation for her once she’d decided against studying to be a vet.
I’ll be honest; she could have been talking about drying paint, and I’d have been hooked. The combination of her accent, her wild hair, blue eyes and freckles was hypnotising. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” I asked. “Not really,” she replied. “A bit more sex wouldnae go amiss, mind”. I choked on my tea. “Don’t forget to swallow. I never do”, she teased. My mouth moved, but I couldn’t get any words out, nor a suitably cool retort…
Silence descended. I wasn’t sure what to say. Without missing a beat, Fiona’s said, “Pay nae mind to me, pet. You get used to saying what’s on your mind up here”. “It’s cool”, I managed, “I understand chances for encounters can be sporadic at best for some of us”. “How do you mean?” She cocked her head to one side like an inquisitive dog does. We then talked about my journey on the scene and compared scorecards, so to speak. Time marched on, and it was early evening by now.
“I’ve hogged enough of your day, and I’m pretty knackered, so I best call it a night,” I reluctantly said, but I was dead on my feet. Fiona looked a little disappointed but said, “Aye, I’ve got an early start myself. Feel free to come in and use the facilities if you need them, and I’ll see you in the morning.” With that last utterance, she winked at me.
I retired to the camper and settled down for the night. Sleeping like a baby, I was awoken the next morning by movement beneath my duvet. I felt a hand sneaking up my thigh and squeezing my morning glory through the trunks that constrained it. I blearily opened my eyes to see Fiona, a look of concentration on her face, feeling her way under the duvet to see what lay beneath. “Morning?” I uttered sleepily. “Morning, you.” She replied. “I figured you wouldn’t take the hint unless I took action, so here I am, finding out what you’ve got for me!” God, I loved how forward Scottish women were.
I lifted the duvet as an invitation for Fiona to join me. She clearly didn’t need much encouragement as she kicked off her wellies and clambered in, and snuggled up next to me.
I leaned in, and we softly kissed, that tentative exploratory type of kiss as you both find out what each other wants. This soon developed into something more earnest as I took her head and fingerfuls of tangled curls in my hands and pulled her soft and full lips towards mine. She probed my mouth with her tongue, and I responded in kind. She traced her fingers through my chest hair and came to rest on my enclosed cock, again. There wasn’t much doubt about Fiona’s expectations.
I threw back the duvet to be able to move myself. Taking the opportunity to view this vision of Scottish resplendence, Fiona had come to me in just a t-shirt. Her buxom breasts pushing at the soft material, I let my hands wander down her back in a move to remove it. Pausing as I hit her bum and realising she was totally naked underneath. “Interesting”, I murmured. “Hey, we’re pretty free up here, you know! Why wear more than you need to?” She retorted. “I’m not complaining,” I returned and relieved her of the t-shirt. Finally, she was naked in front of me, and I was blown away. Yes, she had curves, but she was toned. Clearly, crofting kept you fit.
I leaned down and kissed her lips again before making a haphazard route down her body, curves and freckles with my mouth, kissing, licking and nibbling at various points. All this with her fingers clamping my head and playing with my hair. I eventually ended up between her legs. Her labia slightly parted already, framed by a shock of dark curls mirroring the unruly cover of her head. Greedily, I sucked on her lips, using my tongue to explore her. Introducing a couple of fingers as I continued to lick and tease, I felt Fiona’s bark arch in time to my fingering. Her soft Scottish accent made her moans sound hornier than they normally do with English women. I was so turned on just by her moans I was having a hard time not coming in my pants!
As I continued, building up the pace, I felt her grip on my head become stronger and more forceful as her moaning and writhing became more insistent. Her moans were in real danger of tipping me over the edge, so I figured now was the time for her to come and continued building the pace working her soaking wet pussy with my fingers. Fiona bucked and writhed as her whole body shook with an orgasm. I stopped but left my fingers inside her, letting the body shakes subside, and then slowly started up again. “No, no, no more”, she whimpered, but I continued, and before long, she was trembling again as she came in a ripple slowly, then more forcefully, nearly breaking my wrist as she clamped her thighs together.
I removed my hand and let her lay there.
She grabbed my hand that had been inside of her and took my fingers that were coated in her juices in her mouth. She licked every last drop from my digits. Eventually, she propped herself on her side and looked at me. “It’s been a while she said” slightly blushing. “Nae bother”, I returned with a pish poor attempt at her accent. I got a playful punch for my trouble. She leaned in, and we kissed again. Slowly then more insistent again. With her free hand, she went roving again, falling back onto my cock.
“I fully intended to suck this, but not now. Now I want you inside me. Is that OK?” She asked. “Of course”. Who was I kidding? Here was a wild Highland woman, a Gaelic vision, wants me to fuck her? And she was promising at least another encounter. Only an idiot would say no.
She shuffled into the centre of the bed, opened her legs and said, “Come on then, what have you got hidden in there?”. I hopped off the bed to remove my trunks, and as I stood back up after removing them, the old lad sprung to attention. “This’ll be interesting,” she said, “Could be a snug fit! Come on, big lad, let’s be having ye”
I got back on the bed and rubbed my cock against her pussy testing the waters. Fiona slapped my hand away and said, “Don’t you be teasing me, you twat. I want your cock. Now!” She took me in hand and guided me into her. Jeez, she was a tight fight, but she was wet enough to lubricate us both, and we soon got into a rhythm. She inclined her pelvis so I could get fully into her. I tried to alternate between long and deep strokes, but she kept pushing against my cock, seemingly desperate to have of much of me in her as possible.
On the next stroke, she grabbed my shoulders and said, “Stop”. Doing so, I felt her push me sideways, and in one fluid movement, she rolled us over till she was astride me. “I’m not done with you yet, laddie”, she teased. Slowly she ground against the base. Of my cock, her double D’s swaying in my face. With one hand, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into her awesome cleavage. I could have happily died and gone to heaven at that point, but then she picked up the pace and started to ride my cock in earnest.
Building up a rhythm, Fiona rode me like no woman ever had. She had an intensity and purpose like I’d never experienced before. All the while, she loomed over me and maintained my attention with those ice-blue eyes. I played with her awesome boobs in my hands. She ground and ground her clit against the base of my cock. “I can’t hold on for much longer, Fiona”, I breathlessly said. She grinned at this, knowing she had me on the edge. Then she climbed off.
“Don’t you dare finish yourself off. I want that spunk later, down my throat”. She winked, got out of bed, threw on her t-shirt and wellies. “Brew for you inside in 10”. And with that, she was gone. I’d never been so turned on.
To be continued.
