Charmaine knew that she turned boys on from the start of her adolescence. It took her far.
Her friends had set her up with a guy named Angus. His friends called him wee Angus, and she was expecting to see a guy who was barely 5 feet tall.
When she realised that he was well over 6 feet tall and built like the proverbial brick shit house, she started to moisten in her panties. As a bet, he was wearing a kilt. The tartan was in deference to his forebears.
Now Charmaine had been used to the dirty raincoat brigade trying to peek up her skirt when she was wearing one. She therefore decided to manufacture a situation where she could peek under Angus’ kilt to see what she was looking forward to having inside her.
“Oh! I dropped a contact lens” she exclaimed.
While pretending to look for the non-existent lens, she found herself gazing up at his wedding tackle. She very much liked what she saw, then proceeded to light up.
She saw that she gave him wood. She wanted him inside her spurting heavily