tagGay MaleA Cycle Holiday to the Hebrides

A Cycle Holiday to the Hebrides

byScotishGuy©

My Cycling Holiday to the Outer Hebrides

Yes! Five o'clock on Friday at last. I finished work and quickly cycled home. I was going on my holidays in the morning to the Outer Hebrides. A long train journey, a cycle run and then catch the ferry to North Uist. My plan was to cycle right down the islands and catch the ferry back to the mainland from South Uist.

All my gear was ready; my bicycle serviced and ready. Pannier bags front and back, installed and ready. One man tent, stove and spare gas, an assortment of dried camping foods, tools and spares, midge net all packed and ready. I even had a small first aid box including vaseline, packed and ready. I was confident that there was nothing I had overlooked. Whatever could go wrong, I was prepared for it. I was prepared for anything.

I could hardly sleep for excitement. This would be the longest cycle trip I have ever made and I was so looking forward to it. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day with many miles to cover. I just hoped there wouldn't be a train strike. That was the only thing I wasn't in control of. I knew the ferries were reliable but the train was not reliable. I would just have to take my chances and hope they were running normally.

I had a quick breakfast and cycled off to the train station. I was going to be on several trains until I got close enough to cycle the last part of the journey to the ferry terminal at Uig. I was hoping there won't be too many bikes on the train. They don't charge you for taking a bike but they can refuse you travel if there are too many cycles. To my pleasant surprise, the train was bang on time and I had the only bike. I secured my bike on the rack and took a seat where I could keep an eye on it.

The train should be a pleasant experience. You have no congestion and you travel through some stunning scenery. It was great to sit back in my seat and admire the views as we travelled to Glasgow. From there, I got another train north to Inverness and then another train to the Kyle of Lochalsh, an eight-hour journey. I was intending cycling from the Kyle of Lochalsh through the Isle of Skye, to Uig where I would get the ferry to North Uist. I had planned my journey well. I would either stay in bed and breakfast accomodation or sleep in my one man tent. It was going to be great fun.

I arrived at the Kyle of Lochalsh in good time and got my bike off and looked around for signs. Ten minutes later I was on my way. It was late afternoon and I wanted to get some miles under my belt. It was a fifty mile cycle to Uig and I wasn't going to make it before dark. The weather was still fine so it wouldn't be a problem to pitch the tent and save some money. I reckoned on covering ten miles and then I would make camp in a suitable place.

I was glad I had the midge net, the air was thick with the biting insects and I would be suffering if I hadn't brought the net. I stopped near Broadford and erected my tent. There was water nearby which I used to make a curry. I watched the buzzards and a sea eagle which flew past my tent. They were stunning birds to see in flight.

Next morning I washed in the stream and took down my tent and got it loaded back on the bike. It was an early start and I was expecting to get to Uig around lunchtime. It was a hard cycle, the wind was coming from the north-east and was in my face for most of the route. To make it worse, there were some very long hilly stretches. I did not make good progress but I got there in time for the two o'clock ferry. A two-hour ferry crossing and I would be on North Uist, where my holiday really begins. It had been a long day yesterday with all the trains I needed to catch, but now it should get much more enjoyable.

We sailed right on time, no delays at all. I was concerned about the wind, it was very blustery. I hoped it wouldn't get worse. In fact it did, barely half an hour into the sailing and the ferry was getting tossed about the high seas. We were told to stay indoors because of the weather although common sense prevailed. It was awful. I sat with my head between my knees. I was sick, badly sick. I made it to the toilets which were full of other passengers being sick. I don't have much of a stomach for sailing at the best of times but this was terrible. I wanted to go home, I wanted off, I wanted something for the nausea. There was nothing to help and no chance of getting off. For at least another hour I just had to put up with it. It was a very long and unpleasant hour.

Lots of yellow-faced, dizzy and sick looking passengers gathered ready to disembark at Lochmaddy. I couldn't believe we had made it. I still felt really bad so walked my bike to the hotel along the road. I checked in for the night and lay on my bed. I didn't move until morning at which time I felt an awful lot better. A full Scottish breakfast would set me up for the day.

By nine o'clock I was in the saddle and heading south. I was in no rush at all, I wanted to see as much of the countryside as I could. It was stunning. I stopped several times to take pictures and reached Benbecula late in the day. There are not many hotels on the islands so I was glad I had the tent and plenty dried food with me. I picked a nice spot, right beside a small loch and pitched the tent. It was a pleasant evening and I read my kindle while listening to the water lap against the banks of the loch. It was very peaceful.

Next morning I travelled further south although I did detour a few times. There was so much to see. I saw groups of men cutting peat. I'd never seen that before. It was like going back in time. In Edinburgh there are not many houses with coal fires, it's either gas or electricity for fuel. However on the islands, it's cheaper and just as effective to use the plentiful supply of peat. Even the roof of the scattered houses on the island were made out of turf from the moorland.

I came to a downward hill and was delighted. It was the first downhill stretch I had encountered. It just felt like I was going uphill all the time. I sat up in the saddle and freewheeled downhill, a big grin on my face. I looked at the scenery whizzing by. Sadly, I didn't spot the pothole and lost control, crashing to the ground. It really shook me. I spent a moment assessing the damage. I had a cut head and bad grazing on my hands and knees. Nothing too bad but it will sting for a while. I had vaseline in my kit which would help. I looked at my bike. The back wheel was buckled and had three broken spokes and a puncture. The puncture I could fix but a buckled wheel I couldn't. I had no spare spokes with me. I didn't expect broken spokes, they were supposed to be strong wheels, built for touring and carrying weight. I was stuck.

I couldn't even push my bike, the wheel was so badly buckled. I took the wheel off and tried to straighten it between two rocks. I just needed to be able to make it turn and then I could wheel my bike to the nearest house.

Benbecula is a very remote island. There are no big towns or cities. There are no bicycle shops, nobody who could repair a wheel. My best hope was to try to get my wheel turning, walk and ask at the nearest house for help. If I was lucky they might have a bike and sell me the rear wheel. I wasn't optimistic, I hadn't seen anyone on a bike since I set foot on the island.

I persevered and finally managed to fix the wheel so it would turn. I had to unclip the brakes but it worked. I couldn't pedal it but I could push it and that's what I did. For mile after mile until I came to what looked like a farm track. It was a long track and I was beginning to think there was nothing at the end of it. There was another track, cutting to the right and I took it following it for about a mile. There, at the end, was a dilapidated farm. For the first time since the accident, I was smiling. Hopefully, and I was praying, they would have a bike.

I knocked on the blue door that had the paint peeling off it. As I knocked, flakes of paint fell to the ground. I was thinking nobody was at home. I wondered if I should wait, but for how long? I took a drink of water and as I was putting the bottle away, the door opened, only an inch or so. I wondered if it was the wind. A voice spoke, 'what do you want?'

There was someone there but he didn't look too keen to let me see him. I explained my predicament and he grunted then shut the door with a bang. Weird. I had just picked my bike up when the door opened again and he stepped out. He was a small, older man, difficult to gauge how old because he had one of those weatherbeaten faces you see on deep-sea fishermen and farmers. He studied me for a moment and then asked me to come in. 'Would you like a cup of tea?' he asked. I didn't want to go in with him, he didn't seem friendly at all. But there was nobody else to help me. Reluctantly, I followed him into the house. It was a real mess, clutter and rubbish littered the place. Something also smelled off. A peat fire was sending clouds of smoke throughout the house, the chimney must be blocked or something. He led me into the kitchen and I sat down at a filthy, old oak table. There was more mess in the kitchen. It was a dump. Who would want to live in a place like this?

The old man, because he looked like an old man, smiled, revealing dirty and missing teeth. I wondered if there was a dentist on the island, maybe not. He was dressed in a filthy blue boilersuit and had long straggly hair. There is probably no barber on the island either.

He busied himself making a pot of tea. I had been walking some distance and could do with a refreshing cold beer. I could hardly ask him for a beer. He passed me a cloth. It was dirty. Did he mean for me to use that cloth to clean the blood off my face. I asked if I could use the toilet and I wished I hadn't. It was filthy. I couldn't bring myself to use anything he had to clean myself. Even the water from the tap was brown, from the peat. There was even torn up newspaper for toilet paper. I licked my handkerchief and did my best to clean the worst of the blood off. I had some baby wipes in my kit, I'll use a couple of them later. I went into the kitchen, just as he placed a cup of tea down on the table. I thought I should be polite and drink it.

I asked him if he had a bicycle. A simple question but he burst out laughing, cackling away to himself. I wondered what I said to get a reaction like that. It was difficult to get much sense out of him. I tried to explain what happened to my bike and every time I said 'bike' he would cackle again. This was futile. Has he got a fucking bike or not? Probably not and I'm just wasting time. I drunk the remainder of the tea and got ready to leave. I thanked him and stood up. I felt really dizzy, the room seemed to spin. I felt as nauseous as I did on the ferry. And then everything went black.

I had no idea how long I was out for. I felt groggy. The old bastard, he must have spiked my tea. I've been drugged. As I came round I noticed I was naked and tied up. I was in a barn or something, there was hay on the floor. At least it was cleaner than the house. The old fucker, he's tied me up. Why was I tied up? I just realised, there were shackles on my ankles. Metal shackles attached to each leg by a short chain. The short chain was attached by a longer chain to a metal ring on the wall. My hands were bound tightly with rope. I was completely immobilized. I shouted for the old man. No answer. I tried to use my teeth to chew the rope but it was no use. I looked around for anything I might be able to use. Again, nothing. The barn was empty except for a few hay bales stacked up at the back of the barn. I shouted again. Silence.

I sat on the hay, wondering why he had done this. Was he mad? This is imprisonment or kidnapping, whatever it was it was illegal. I lay down on the hay floor, I was cold and tried to cover myself with the loose hay. I had just settled down when the door banged and the old man walked in. Three other men followed behind him. They were an odd, scary bunch. They were three different sizes but looked very similar to each other. I named them Small, Medium and Large. I presumed they were the old man's sons. They looked like in-bred simpletons. All three of them were dressed pretty much the same in filthy jeans and a thick jumper. They had bizarre looking hair.

They were chattering to each other with manic arm gestures. What the fuck is going on? The small son edged nearer to me and poked me with a walking stick. He laughed as he poked me. I swore at him and the old man smacked me. The bastard. Just wait until I get out of here. You'll get it.

The three sons continued to communicate in their manic gestures and unintelligible words. What were they planning? I soon found out. The four of them took their clothes off, looking at me. I was really frightened now. All four of them were muscled and in good shape, even the old man. The medium son walked up to me. He was wanking his cock. Fucking hell, I'm going to be raped by these mad fuckers. He came up and slapped his cock against my face. No way am I sucking that. He punched me and laughed, turning round to his family as if he was expecting a round of applause. He slapped me another twice with his cock, grabbing my head and forcing my mouth open. I had no choice. I could only hope he comes quickly.

The other brothers crowded round as I took the medium son in my mouth. At least I couldn't wank him with my hands tied up. He wanked himself as I sucked him. The small brother was poking me with a stick again. I glowered at him. What happens after Medium has come? Are they all going to abuse me? Why would all four of them strip off? This was not looking good. The best I could hope for was to make him come quickly. I put all my focus on to his cock and sucked him, licking his head with my tongue. He was moaning and then he shrieked as he shot his spunk into my mouth. I let it dribble down my mouth, I wasn't going to swallow it. He smacked my face as I spat his spunk out. He seemed to be satisfied and stood back, letting Large take over. He was the biggest son in more ways than one. He had wanked until he had a seriously big cock for me. Fuck, he's wanting sucked off too. There was nothing else for it, I wasn't wanting punched or smacked again. I took his big cock in my mouth, hoping it would be over quickly. I shut my eyes, trying to imagine myself somewhere else. Finally, he shuddered as he spunked in me and he grabbed my face, making me swallow it. The dirty bastard.

I was ready for the next one. I had accepted I wouldn't be left alone until all four of them had spunked in my mouth. I wanted it over as quickly as I could. I nodded my head at Small, beckoning him to come closer and I let his cock slip between my lips. He wanked furiously, urged on by his brothers. All I could do was suck his cock as best I could. I wished I could have used my hands, I would make them come a lot quicker. Finally, he did a dance of some kind as he spurted in my mouth, squealing like a lunatic. I swallowed it and that avoided a smack. That left the old man.

He was obviously more experienced and knew what he wanted. He pulled down two hay bales and forced me to lean over them. Fuck, he's going to shag me. I struggled but it was no use. He stood behind me and the three sons gathered round, squealing excitedly. This was mad, this depraved, sorry bunch of genetic misfits. Fuck it, just get it over with. I tried to relax as much as I could. Fortunately he didn't have a big cock. He spat on his hand and rubbed it over his cock. Then he took me. Fuck, it was sore. I cried out as he fucked me. Hurry up you old bastard, hurry up and fucking come. It took him ages before I could feel his cock stiffen inside me. He shuddered as he shot his spunk inside me. Thank God, the four of them are finished.

The kept jabbering away at each other. I still couldn't make out what they were saying. Then they got dressed. It's over. I wondered if they would let me go. I asked the old man and he spat at me. He walked out followed by the three degenerates. They left me bent over the hay bales. I had spunk all over my face and more dribbling down my legs. I felt dirty. The bastards. There was not a thing I could do about it. I could only hope they see common sense and let me go. I'll even promise them I won't go to the police. I'll even let all four of them fuck me if they will let me go. I had an awful feeling inside me that they could not afford to let me go. I wondered if I was the first traveller they had caught or whether other poor souls have suffered in this barn. They will kill me before they let me go. I'm fucked in more ways than one.

I needed to think. I didn't have my watch, they had taken it off me when I was stripped. I wondered if they still had my clothes, my bike and my kit. Surely they wouldn't have destroyed them. I had to be smart if I was going to get out of this alive. If the four of them are going to sexually abuse me the best I could do was take the initiative, use my hands, let them see I'm excited. Maybe they will let me come into the house, if I'm good.

It was a long cold night. I dozed and woke up several times. My face was painful where they had punched me. It could have been much worse. A LOT worse. What is still to come? The door rattled as it opened. It was the small son and he was on his own. I wondered if I could get him on-side. I smiled at him, encouraging him to take his clothes off. I didn't know if he understood me or not so I used my hands to try and communicate. 'Come here and give me your cock, let me take it in my mouth, let me feel you come in my mouth, come on you little fucker, give me your cock.' He got excited and pulled his jeans down. 'Yes, come on, let me have it.'

My hands were tied in front of me. I reached for his cock, gripping it and I tried to wank him. I couldn't do it properly. 'Take the rope off and I'll wank you.' I gestured with my tied hands and he seemed to get the message. He untied the rope, freeing my hands. They hurt as the blood flowed back into my hands. He stood there, right in front of me, his cock against my lips. I reached for him, gripping his cock, licking it with my tongue. I've had more than my share of cocks and I had to apply everything I knew to get him off quickly. And it didn't take me long. The little fucker screeched as he filled my mouth. I looked up at him, trying to smile as I showed him his spunk in my mouth. I closed my mouth and swallowed it.

He was gentle as he tied my hands again. Well, at least I was still alive and he hadn't punched or smacked me. Maybe, in time, I could manipulate him into helping me escape. He had untied my hands. He saw for himself that I wasn't trying to escape. Maybe next time I can talk him into releasing me from the ankle shackles. He looked at me and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Later on, the other three came into the barn. I tried to encourage them to untie my hands. That I can wank them better if my hands weren't tied. It didn't work. Just like last night, Medium and Large wanked into my mouth and I swallowed it. I tried to ask them questions. How long am I here for? Will they let me go? My pleas fell on deaf ears. The old man, like last night, wanted to fuck me. I was silent as he bent me over the bales and fucked me. At least he came quickly this time.

It was a long day, wondering who would come in wanting serviced. I needed to be smart. I need to, somehow, get them to trust me and take the shackles off. They must have a van or a car, living somewhere remote like this. That was my only plan, encourage them to untie me, get their confidence and then fuck off in their vehicle. I needed to make them like me, to feel sorry for me. I need to make it look like I'm enjoying what they are doing. I wished Small would appear. He was almost friendly towards me, he could speak on my behalf.

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