James Scott

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Scotland was a long way away, but the pull on him was as tangible as the wool of  his kilt he felt on his knees. 

He knelt on one knee in the cool grasses and picked a clover from the dewy lawn. His love would appreciate the gesture. She was easy to please.  He smiled as he rolled the stem between his thumb and finger just as he had her nipple this early morn. He'd woke her with this touch and she arched her back and rolled to him. Fixing her mouth to him she mounted him before even opening her eyes. Her eyes, small slits, opened slowly as she undulated her hips on his cock. 
By the time she was in full stride her eyes were wide open and shining in desire. The guttural sounds from her throat made him harder and swell as he let loose in her. The cry mixed with the sound of the flesh slapping in pleasure and joy. She felt the heat and threw her hands back on his knees thrusting her clit against  his pubic bone her head thrown back as well. She internalized her orgasm with a halted breath reaching her peak in as still a silence as his was loud. The contractions eased and she collapsed on his chest with a breathy, "Good morning, my love."
He looked down at the lawn cooling his knee and the clover in his hand and smiled. 
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