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04 Temmuz 2022, 18:41
It was a cold blustery evening in remote Inverness, the cultural capital of the Scottish Highlands. It was my last night here before moving on and I?d just finished eating dinner at a local pub. I figured that as this would be my last night in Scotland, I wanted something to remember it by, and what better way than with a traditional Scottish kilt? I certainly didn?t have trouble finding a shop. Basically, every second shop along the main street sold every manner of Scottish souvenirs and clothing.I chose one of the larger shops I knew to be just around the corner from where I was staying. After reluctantly leaving the warmth of the pub, I headed out into the icy cool breeze and made my way up the cobblestoned laneway out into the main street. It was still fairly early in the evening, so locals and tourists alike were still roaming the streets shopping or making their way home from work as the sun was beginning to set.I walked into the large brightly lit shop and out of the cool breeze. There were only a handful of customers in the shop. I made my way down to the back of the shop where the kilts hung. There were hundreds of them, all lining the back wall, four rows high.After seeing the exorbitant prices of these, I moved back towards the center of the shop where there was a rack of cheaper kilts, and what I assumed were of lesser quality. I found a couple of patterns and colours that I liked and after picking out my size, made my way to the changeroom. I found the small changing room in the far back corner of the store.After some time, I decided on a black utility-style kilt and a white shirt. I took them up to the front of the shop and handed them over to the man standing behind the counter. He was an older man, maybe in his early forties, with jet black hair, but was starting to bald on top and wore a beard. I assumed he was the owner of the store.He asked in a very strong accent*if I needed any help. I asked him if he had a belt that might go with my new outfit. He led me down one side of the shop where there was a range of leather belts and asked me to choose a belt buckle to go with it. He also went and got me some black woolen socks with a red dragon on the side. After making my choice, he suggested that isvecbahis (https://isvecbahisguncel.com/) I try the whole outfit on with everything together to see how it all looked. I agreed and he led me to the small change room.I walked in and to my slight surprise, he walked in behind me and pulled the curtain closed. I proceeded to change out of my jacket and shirt and put*on the new one. Then I undid my jeans and slid them off and as I did,*he grabbed the*kilt that I had purchased and knelt down on the floor in front of me and helped me into it. This, of course, isn?t the first time I?ve had someone help me get dressed, but certainly the first time in a long while.I felt a little awkward being almost half-naked in front of a complete stranger, but figured he?d be used to it working in a clothing store. I don?t know if you?ve ever worn a kilt, but basically, it?s a skirt that wraps around your body and overlaps on itself at the front. It has an internal strap on the left side and an external strap on the right where you secure the overlapping section. Fairly straight forward and a one-person job. But I guess you couldn?t fault his customer service skills.He then placed the belt and buckle on and then the helped me into the socks. He then looked up at me and mumbled something that I didn?t quite catch and before I knew what was happening, he had his hands up the kilt and started pulling at my shirt from the inside in an attempt to make it look like it was tucked in. As he was doing this, he was explaining that it was difficult to tuck your shirt in once the kilt was on and fastened and that pulling it down like this was the only way.Thinking about this now, I?m not sure if that is truly the case, but at the time I was a little too preoccupied with*having a stranger?s cold hands roaming around, far to close to my junk. On several occasions, I could feel his arm brush my cock. I was glad I chose to wear underwear this morning.Once he was happy that I looked presentable, he stood up and asked me to follow him out to have a look in the mirror. As we were walking out of the changing room something caught my eye. I looked down at the shop owner's*pants and noticed he had a clear bulge going on down there. I wasn?t sure what to make of this and isveçbahis giriş (https://isvecbahisguncel.com/) the next thing I knew I was standing in front of a six-foot-tall mirror leaning against a dark green couch with a round tartan rug laid out on the floor.The shop owner complimented me on how good I looked. He walked over to the back wall where the top quality (and out of my price range) kilts were hanging and picked up a similar black kilt with a silk cross-hatched pattern in it and suggested I try this on. I said to him that I could not afford this one.He*insisted that if I liked it, he would give it to me for the same price as the one that I was currently wearing. Well, I couldn?t turn down that bargain. He apologised and said that he had to go serve some customers that were lined up at the front counter and that he would return shortly to see how I was getting on.I made my way back to the change room and tried on the new kilt. It certainly looked and felt a lot better quality. After changing, I made my way back to the mirror and was checking it out when the owner returned, again apologising and saying how he was the only one working tonight. He introduced himself as George and we got talking about where I was from and what I was doing up here in the highlands and if I was enjoying myself.Directing our conversation back to the new kilt I had on, he explained how this was the best quality of kilt you can buy. It was then that he explained how most Scottish people don?t wear anything underneath when they wear kilts. Suggested to me that I should go and take off my underwear so that I could,*?truly appreciate the quality and the feel of the material.?I thought about this for a second, but then thought, hell, why not. So back into the change room I went, and George again followed me in. But before I could do or say anything, he?d closed the curtain behind us and was down on his knees again with his hands up my kilt and starting to pull down my underwear. I was speechless, helping me into clothes is one thing, but removing my underwear?that was a bit much.But he was right, instantly I felt so much more comfortable and feeling the kilt against my bare skin was amazing. But George wasn?t finished. He put my underwear onto the chair isveçbahis yeni giriş (https://isvecbahisguncel.com/) in the corner, then had his hands back up there in an attempt to again pull my shirt down. Only this time? I was butt naked down there. Admittedly, his hands were a bit warmer this time, but I didn?t know what to do or say. His hands brushed past my dick more times than I thought was necessary and each time he?d mumble a little apology.I wasn?t sure how I completely felt about all this. But?.when in Rome?.or Scotland, as the case was. We made our way back out to the store.?How does that feel now, good?? he asked.?Yeah, really nice actually.??Oh, excuse me, will you?*Be right back, just need to serve this customer,? he said as he indicated to a woman standing near the front counter. ?Feel free to pick out a sporran, I think you would look great with one.?He pointed to a shelf nearby with a large range of sporrans and chains. As he made his way to the counter, I was left to look around, not unaware*of the fact that I was wearing nothing under my kilt. I have to admit, it felt good, and a little naughty walking around a shop with people everywhere, knowing that I had nothing on under my kilt.I picked out a black fur sporran with a silver chain and having no idea how to fit it, waited for George to return. When he did, again apologising, he helped me fit it to my belt and adjusted it until the sporran sat centrally on the front of the kilt. I had to admit, I looked pretty dapper. George picked out another style kilt, this one was your typical red tartan style. ?Try this one on so you can compare the different styles.?So it was back to the change room yet again. He removed the sporran for me and then helped me remove the belt and then my kilt. All too aware that this time I was*not actually wearing any underwear. Luckily, however, the shirt was long enough that it covered things up. He wrapped the new kilt around me and fastened it and then as before, slipped his hands up to pull my shirt down.Again, I could feel his hands moving around my body gently brushing against my arse and then around to the front where several times he would brush up against my cock. Occasionally, his hand would go between my cock and balls. By this time, I was starting to feel less nervous and my cock was starting to react to his touch more than before. I?m sure he could feel that I had gotten harder since the last time, especially when he went to pull his hands back out and brushed against it.