Holy Fuck... Ch. 01

Author's note: This is another Melanie piece, an enchanted few days on a Scottish island.

My thanks to my muse for her inspiration, and help with editing. Profound thanks also to raconteuse, who painstakingly edited, and smoothed away the jaggy edges. I'm deeply indebted to both of them. Thanks also to my loyal readers, who have stayed with me through my sometimes erratic posting history.

The second and last part of this story has been written, edited, and will be posted in the next few days.

Melanie fans should know that the fourth and fifth chapters of 'Journey into Melanie's Reality' are also complete and edited, and will be posted soon. The sixth and final chapter is in progress...

Oh, and back to the present piece: you'll understand the point of the title when you've read the second part.

*****

Sunlight flittered on gentle waves as they stood by the car at Kennacraig, watching the ferry draw into the linkspan. Cormorants stood on rocks, wings outstretched as if crucified, drying in the warmth. Members of Strathclyde Constabulary stood by a police van, two leashed dogs sitting patiently by them. She pointed to them, wondering:

-I wouldn't have thought there's a lot of crime on an island like Islay darling?

-No, very little. Most folk in a place like Islay never lock their houses or cars. But drugs get smuggled in on the west coast. Thousands of secluded bays with no living being but sheep and deer for miles. That's what the dogs are for, to sniff it out.

They got in the car as several whisky-laden artics rolled off the boat, followed by a dozen or so smaller vehicles. Not a lot of traffic midweek in April. The police pulled in one Transit van, and the dogs leapt into the back, but with laughing apologies the vehicle was allowed to proceed.

It was lunchtime, so they headed for the bar once the car was secure on the vehicle deck, found window seats on the starboard side, and ordered sandwiches. He scanned the bar:

-Look sweetness, Islay Ale on draught. Want to sample it? I've never heard of it, but micro-breweries are springing up all over. They usually make good ale.

She joined him to choose, the barman watching appreciatively as she moved in her short summer skirt:

-Hope ye brought something warmer than that fer yer stay on the island lass. The weather's not usually as kind as it is today.

-Don't worry, - nudging her man – he's warned me!

-This yer first visit?

-Yes, first trip here. We wanted to visit somewhere completely new for both of us, and decided on Islay because it was the nearest island. Something about islands – the boat trip makes it a special adventure.

There was no other custom at the bar, and the man spent time helpfully explaining the range of ales. They made their choices and retired to their stools by the window, watching birdlife on the shoreline as the ferry picked up speed down West Loch Tarbert.

-He's very friendly darling.

-Most islanders are, love: not much room for anything else in a wee community. And of course he's interested in you...

She slapped his arm playfully:

-Sandy! Don't start that nonsense again, please.

He laughed:

-It isnae nonsense darling. What man could resist you?

His hand slid up her naked thigh. She drew breath at the unexpectedness of the sensation:

-Please love, not here. We'll share many new things on this holiday, but I don't want to start with public sex on the ferry. I'm not ready for that. But this I need...

She slid from the stool and stood beside him, arms encircling him, and drew him into a long kiss:

-My first kiss on a ferry – her face was pensive for a second – ever, I think.

He stood, pulled her into his loving embrace, kissed all over her face, then drew back:

-Jesus darling, I can't get enough of you. What a beautiful start to our wee holiday. Let's finish our sandwiches, eh? My hunger isn't just for you. But first, I must visit the shop. We don't have the Islay OS map, and they'll have a wee guidebook too.

When he returned with map and guidebook, she was at the bar sipping a new pint, chatting with the smiling barman:

-Did you find what you were looking for my sweet? Ah, I see you did. We're all set for our adventures then? Willie's been very helpful, telling me his favourite places. Maybe you could show us them on the map?

Willie beamed with pleasure as the fifty thou was spread on the bar, and spent some time pointing out his recommendations. When he excused himself to serve other customers, they returned to their stools to finish their sandwiches.

-Willie suggested we move to the other side soon, so we can watch the shore of Islay passing. What a lovely man.

God he adored everything about this remarkable woman. The sparkle in her eyes, her joy in the freshness of the new. She utterly entranced him; had from the first moment they met, a year-and-a-half previously. He was constantly surprised and flattered that she'd chosen him. His woman. His Melanie. He felt his years drop away when they were together.

Food and drink inside them, they moved to port, stepped out on deck. Dappled sunlight lit the slopes of Beinn Bheigier as their arms slid round each other. He sighed and drew her into a kiss:

-God, I love my wee country darling. But not as much as I love you.

His fingers moved to her breasts, small and firm, exquisite. He felt the nipple hardening under his touch and she moaned into their kiss:

-Oh sweetness, please don't start me. I'm on a hair-trigger, wanting you.

He smiled and dropped the teasing hand to her knee, slipping it up her muscled thigh:

-I want you soaking by the time we get to the hotel darling.

-Oh love, please don't. I'm soaking already...

But her legs shuffled apart. Glancing around to check nobody else was in sight, his fingers drifted up under the short loose skirt till he was stroking her sex through wet panties. He drew her back into a secluded corner, pressed her against the steel superstructure, and his hand slid under the flimsy silk.

-Darling, please, I'm ready to burst, but not in public...

-Wheesht lass, we're quite alone, and you need this.

Her clit was engorged, her labia swollen, and his fingers worked her need. She panted and moaned into his mouth:

-Oh god love, yesss...

His movements quickened and she convulsed in his arms. He loved watching her face in orgasm, the most beautiful sight ever. His hand was soaking:

-More darling mine?

-No love, not now, please? I want your mouth for the next one, and you can't do that here. Anyway – she shivered slightly – I'm getting cold.

-Can't have that then. Let's get you inside.

They spent most of the rest of the crossing in the bar, he learning the map, she studying the guidebook. She giggled at one point, kissed his cheek softly:

-Look sweetness, here's an interesting church. Maybe we can complete what was interrupted in Dunblane last week?

-Which church love?

-Bowmore Parish Church, look, here:

-Ah yes – glancing at the guidebook – it's quite famous. It's in every architectural guide to the country. Not many circular kirks in Scotland. And it'll be open to visitors... but very quiet midweek at this time of year. So we may be in luck. I'd visit it if I were here alone. But with you...

His cock, already tumescent from the excitement of playing with her cunt earlier, stiffened at the thought. She noticed, and stroked it surreptitiously through his jeans. It was his turn to protest:

-No sweetness, please, not here. I'm on a hair-trigger too... but I need to save it for you, when we get to our room.

She laughed and withdrew her hand. She knew from long experience that he could seldom orgasm more than once a day, though it had happened on a few memorable occasions:

-Just getting you back for teasing me. Yes darling, naked in our room in – she glanced at her watch – less than an hour. We should be arriving soon?

-Aye, about fifteen minutes. You up to going on deck again?

-Yes love, let's. I'm very warm now.

-Starboard deck first. I've never seen the Paps of Jura up close.

-The what?

-Jura's the adjacent island, and has three fine mountains. From their shape, they're called paps. Scots for a woman's breasts. Jura's other claim to fame is that George Orwell wrote '1984' there when he was dying of TB. Stupid place for a man with TB to stay – it must be one of the wettest bits of Scotland. Let's have a look.

They stepped on deck to see the mountains of Jura rise above to the right, but something else caught Melanie's attention:

-Look darling, seals!

-Aye, grey seals, Atlantic seals. You'll see a few on this trip love, much closer than this. They're everywhere on the west coast.

Her excitement was infectious, though he'd seen seals aplenty. He took her precious face in his hands, watching the almost childlike joy in her eyes. Kissed her parted lips. The engine-throb beneath them changed and he drew back:

-Very nearly there love. Let's go to the other side and see Port Askaig.

He watched her face as the wee ferry port drew closer. A pier, a small cluster of houses and shops, a hotel, fishing boats bobbing at anchor, sentinel cormorants on the rocks. The call came for drivers and passengers to return to their vehicles. She turned to him, eyes gleaming:

-What a beautiful place to bring me to darling. Thank you so much.

They kissed softly before returning to the vehicle deck. When they drove off the ferry a few minutes later, he looked for space to pull off out of the light traffic. Got out of the car. She followed suit:

-Why did you stop love?

-First Islay kiss is why darling. Come here.

She was against a wall, his body shielding her as they kissed. His fingers moved up her thigh, stroked her wet pantiless cunt:

-My beautiful dirtygirl. You got ready for me?

-Had to sweetness, took them off when I went to pee. They were too soaked to wear, and I didn't want to waste time in the hotel. Now – pushing him away gently - let's get there as quickly as is safe.

They barely noticed the interior as they waited impatiently for the hotel registration to be completed. Rushed upstairs with their luggage to find their room. Dropped everything when they entered. Stripped each other in afternoon sunlight through the window. Fell on the bed in tangled urgency.

-Need to taste you, Melanie.

His head went to her smooth wet cunt. Lapped feverishly, couldn't get enough of this, the most beautiful cunt in the world. All his. He stilled when she twisted round, swallowed his cock:

-No darling, need you so much, and our first on this island will be in this... gorgeous... needy... cunt...

She moved obediently, lay on her back. He watched her face as the orgasm overtook her, the beatific smile which followed. Pushed her back on the bed. Thrust into her:

-God how I adore you my darling. Everything about you. But... right... now... this... beautiful... cunt... needs... spunked...

-Oh jesus yes lover, right now...

She groaned as he stuffed a pillow under her bum to alter his angle of entry, lifted her knees over his shoulders...

-Yess, my sweet, right there... ohhh...

-Yes darling, you own this cock, pure lovefuck... jesus, so close...

-Oh god ohgod ohhhhh

And they grunted and whimpered together as the orgasm hit them, hung suspended from reality as they fused, juddering in frenzy at their completion.

*****

Later, after they'd unpacked, they decided to go exploring before dinner. Port Charlotte Hotel was lovely, a nineteenth-century stone building right on the water's edge, and their room looked east over Loch Indaal. It was pricier than they'd normally have gone for, but this was a very special holiday, so the wee bit extra was worth it. They booked a table for dinner at eight, and headed southwest to the end of the single-track road and the most westerly village on the island, Portnahaven.

Their crossing earlier had been in the lee of the island. Portnahaven faced west across the open Atlantic: next landfall was Nova Scotia. Huge waves broke on rocks beyond the sheltered harbour, around which crowded a few terraces of fisherfolks' low stonebuilt cottages.

-Just as well I changed into trousers. This wind would have torn my flimsy skirt off.

-Ach yes. I thought it might be like this. That's why I encouraged you to change, though it'd deny me easy access. You know I always put your welfare before mine darling.

-That so? That'll be why you brought the crop then? Putting my welfare before yours...

-I brought the crop because you need it sometimes. Stop being coy. I don't have to remind you that you've got off several times having your cunt beaten with it. In fact – his cock stiffened at the thought – maybe you require that tonight.

-I don't think so.

But her eyes were sparkling mischievously. He kissed her nose and took her hand:

-Time to explore darling. But first, I need to pop into the shop. Something I forgot to bring. Just in case.

Puzzled, she followed him into the wee village shop, just as the owner was ready to shut for the evening:

-Packet of Durex please.

She shivered. They never used condoms. She knew why he'd bought them, and was scared. Maybe a little excited, but mostly scared...

They were walking past a row of cottages facing west over the wee harbour when her hand tightened in his:

-Darling, what on earth's that?

-What's what love?

-That sound? It's unearthly, scary, but very beautiful.

His hearing wasn't as sharp as hers, but when he cocked his left ear to the harbour, he detected it. A high ululating keening, a bit like the whine of insects approaching and retreating, but more sonorous. He'd heard it before, but couldn't place it...

-Look! I didn't see them at first, but one just moved... grey seals again, yes?

He got the binocs out, scanned the harbour. There must have been twenty of them, mostly lounging immobile on rocks, but one was swimming, only its nose above the surface, its grey-spotted body a shadow below the water.

-Oh darling, how beautiful! I've only heard that a handful of times. Maybe it's a mating call, I'm not sure. But they're singing for you tonight.

He gave her the binocs and watched as she stood entranced, his eyes moving between her face and the sources of the weird sounds; her eyes glued through the glasses on the mammals. Eventually she sighed and looked at him. He'd never seen quite such wonderment on her face before:

-D'you know love, it's so magical I can almost believe they're doing it for me?

He took her in his arms and kissed her mouth gently:

-They are darling. Like me, they've never seen anyone so beautiful in their lives. There are lots of legends about them. In Orkney and Shetland they're called selkies, and in myth some selkies are part-human. Maybe that's where mermaids came from, I don't know. But I do know that tonight, they're singing to welcome you to their island.

They walked down to the headland, watched Atlantic rollers crash on the rocks in the approaching gloaming. She shivered in the sharp wind, hugged him:

-Let's get somewhere more sheltered love?

He glanced at his watch: they had over an hour before dinner:

-Mm, maybe check out the village pub, for future reference? Sometimes in places like this you can get the most beautiful seafood, just hours out of the water.

The place was wee and busy. Typical fishing pub; no fancy concessions to tourists, just the basics: food and drink, and unpretentious furniture upon which to consume them. They bought Laphroaigs to warm themselves up, and studied the menu. Not much studying required: there were few items on it. A family, and two couples, were eating various seafoods and steak pie – about the extent of the menu. All were clearly enjoying their food. She squeezed his hand:

-What d'you think darling?

-It feels right. Maybe we'll eat here tomorrow evening?

-Yes, tomorrow then. Now – draining her whisky – we should be getting back. The hotel restaurant looks a bit formal. I'd like to change before we eat. And – glancing at his jeans – maybe you should too?

There were a handful of other patrons in the hotel restaurant when they entered. No likely candidates for what he had in mind, she noted with relief. They were shown to their table by their waitress, a bored-looking lass. From the island, judging by her voice. Dinner was fine, but not worth what they paid for it. They settled the bill, and keeked in the bar. Very quiet. She tugged at his hand, not wanting him to drink anything more:

-Let's go up darling. There's more pleasure and entertainment in our room than there is here. And I'm getting tired. It's been a lovely eventful day. I want to lie down. And I want to be with you, alone. Just to be together a bit, before we sleep?

He followed her up the stairs, his eyes on her shapely arse swaying under the dress. Wanting her again. In the room she said:

-I'd like to soak in the bath for a bit love. It's narrow: there's not room for two comfortably. D'you mind having yours after me?

He read the island guide as she bathed. She emerged from the bathroom naked, brushing her long brown hair. God, she was beautiful... and more than beautiful: the best mate in the world. His soulmate. He kissed her as she slipped into bed, then he stripped, and went for his bath.

When he returned, she was asleep. She stirred as he climbed in beside her, though he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. Leaned over and kissed him:

-Lie down sweetness. I need something. I'm refreshed and hungry after my little nap.

He obeyed. She reached under the pillow, drew out the eyemask. He lifted his head and blackness descended upon him. Felt her fold the duvet back, till it fell off the bottom of the bed. Her fingers on his soft cock. Then it was in her mouth. Oh jesus, he loved her mouth on him. Tongue swirling him softly, teasing. He was glad she'd drawn him upstairs from the bar. Every nerve in him was tingling from her ministrations.

-Know why I'm doing this my sexman?

-Why?

-Touch my arse and you'll know love.

He stroked down her spine as she renewed her devotion to him. Feathered the fine down he loved in the small of her back. Fingered her muscular arsecheeks, feeling her shiver at his touch as his penis hardened in her mouth. She shifted position so her arse opened to him and his fingers traced down her crack, teased her hole.

She trembled, and he pressed his forefinger into her. Hot and greasy arse, the arse he adored. Pressed all the way in, his cock fully erect now, knowing where it was going. His finger withdrew, and on the next entry was joined by the middle one. Her arse was wet now, not just greasy. His other hand felt for her dangling breasts, nipples hard and needy. The fingers in her arse moved faster as she took his length in her throat. Then she pulled away and removed the eyemask. Her face was glowing into his as she kissed him, a hard wanting kiss:

-You know what I have to have, my love. Give me.

She lay on her back:

-This way. Want to see you.

-Oh my sweet...

He pushed three pillows under her and her legs lifted over his shoulders. His cock pressed into her slimy arse. She tensed, and he felt her muscles grip his need:

-Fuck me. Fuck your dirtygirl's arse. Hard. Ohhh...

-Need you darling, need this. Most beautiful arse in the world. Mine... as this... cock... is yours...

He hadn't expected this, after their sex just a few hours previously, but he was gripped in frenzy for his wonderful woman. Her fingers went to her cunt as he slid in her wetness. His mouth sank to her breasts, suckled one, then the other, teeth tugging her nipples, twisting, his cock driving into her relentlessly. She groaned one of her most delicious sexsounds and he knew the start of her orgasm... he was hanging on the edge now, legs trembling with the pleasure her body was giving him, the closeness, oh jesus...