Buzzing Easter Bunnies Page 5

  It's amazing how much time you can waste sat on a veranda in the Spring sunshine while someone brings you mojitos ...and more salted caramel & chocolate pudding.

  By the time Sunday morning rolls around I am so relaxed there's every danger my brain is about to trickle out of my ears.

  Matt however, is feeling rather restless it seems. My job has me on my feet all day, whereas his keeps him bound to a desk most of the time. No surprise then, that after two days of doing bugger all, he's feeling a tad fidgety.

  'Do you fancy going for a walk?' I ask him, noticing how his leg is twitching up and down on the recliner next to me.

  His eyes light up. 'Yeah! That'd be great. There's a good one that winds up into the mountain behind us. We can start it right here.'

  I look down at my pampered and soft feet. 'How long is it?'

  'Oh, a couple of miles... I think.'

  I don't necessarily like the sound of that 'I think' but I'm willing to give it a go. This is as much Matt's trip as it is mine, and he did pay for it, so it's only fair to do something he fancies. Besides, I have to walk off all that bloody salted caramel & chocolate pudding at some point, don't I?

  'Okay, let me finish my coffee, and we'll get dressed and go.'

  'Great!' Matt is up like a shot and heading back towards the hotel before I've had chance to say anything else. I really do hope this walk calms him down a bit. I fully intend to spend my last evening here in the sauna until my bodily fluids drop to dangerously low levels, so I want him nice and content beforehand.

  I am extremely proud of my walking ensemble. I definitely think I look like someone ready and prepared to ramble their way around the peaks and valleys of the Scottish Highlands. Like every soft southern tourist who thinks this though, I am completely deluded. Fat Face combat trousers, a Republic hoodie and Caterpillar boots are entirely unsuitable for the kinds of weather and terrain Scotland can throw at you. But I look cute as a button, dammit.

  Thankfully, the mini-heat wave has extended right through the weekend, so I should just about get away with it.

  Matt might well be even worse off, given that he's wearing ordinary blue jeans, a pair of crunchy Doc Martins and an Avengers t-shirt. He looks happy as we set off though, so I don't choose to point out that if a change comes in the weather, there's nothing Robert Downey Jnr and The Incredible Hulk can do to stop him freezing to death.

  The walk begins on a gentle uphill slope from the hotel's car park. It wends its way between the trees and beside the Loch for a good five hundred metres, before turning left and continuing upwards on a pleasantly shallow incline. As we walk, butterflies flutter around our heads, the birds sing in the trees, and the midgies (thanks to the repellent we've just slathered ourselves in) stay out of arm's reach, knowing what's good for them.

  I am in rambling heaven. The hustle, stress and exhaustion of the A&E department feels a world away.

  I smile broadly at an elderly couple who pass us going the other way. They are both dressed in neat Highland tweed and have a portly, huffing Beagle dog with them, who comes to investigate my legs. I give him a friendly pat and a tickle behind the ears. My Disney-like levels of Zip-dee-doo-dah contentment obviously translate down to the chubby dog, as he gives me a gentle, happy lick on the fingers before ambling back to his owners - who issue Matt and I with a friendly hello, before continuing on their way.

  'Enjoying yourself?' Matt asks a few minutes later, noticing my broad, indulged smile. We've just come round a corner of the path and can now look right across the Loch, which still dazzles in the sunlight.

  'Oh God yes. Thanks for bringing me here,' I say and give him a kiss. He snakes an arm around my waist and presses into me. The kiss becomes a lingering one that lasts a full minute.

  This makes me more horny than a rhino playing the trumpet.

  When we get back to the hotel room, Matt will be receiving my attentions to a leg trembling degree.

  Sadly, this new found rampant horniness rather puts me off my stride. Where I was previously enjoying the pleasant scenery around me, now all I can think about is sex. The glorious Highland countryside is now completely lost on me. I might as well be walking through the centre of Middlesbrough. I want to be back at the McInnish spa, removing that silly Avengers t-shirt from Matt, and showing him what's under my Republic hoodie.

  I'm so lost in my own sexual reverie that I barely notice how the track has started to steepen as we ascend further up the side of the mountain. We're now walking through a heavy pine forest that is as silent as the grave.

  'Wow. It feels really isolated in here,' Matt points out.

  'Yeah, it does,' I reply, looking up and down the path and not seeing another soul. 'Nobody else about.'

  Matt nods. 'We're completely alone. What a strange feeling.' He looks up. 'Shame the trees are blocking out the sunlight.'

  'Not over there, they're not,' I say, and point to an open glade about fifty feet off the path to our left. It's ringed by trees, so a lot of it is obscured, but I can see that the open grass area is sun dappled, and extremely picturesque. 'Looks beautiful, doesn't it?'

  Now, I'm sure you are one step ahead of me here - especially those of you who have entertained yourselves with a little outdoor sex in the past.

  The setting is perfect, I am hornier than a sixteen year old girl, and I have a man with me who is ready, willing and able.

  These three very important facts are all crowding themselves at the front of my brain, and any second now I'm going to connect the dots.

  Wait for it...

  Wait for it...

  'Matt!' I exclaim, eyes widening.

  'What?'

  'Er... why don't we go stand in the sunny bit?'

  'What for? It looks a bit undergrowthy over there. I don't want to get muddy.'

  'I'm sure it'll be alright.' I take his hand and start pulling him towards the secluded glade.

  'Christina! What's got into you?'

  I roll my eyes and decide this is no time for being coy. With one hand placed firmly over Matt's crotch I look him square in the eye. 'We're alone Matt, and that kiss you gave me has turned me on. I want to go over into that glade and have sex with you under the Scottish sun.' Now his eyes are the ones going wide. 'You said you were up for trying new things. This just might be the way you get me screaming and digging my nails into your back.'

  The lad doesn't need telling twice.

  Within moments, we're in the glade and lying down on a bed of soft, dry grass, kissing and fumbling with each other's zippers. Matt pulls my combat trousers off in such a manly way, I nearly start to salivate. I start to pull his jeans down, but he stops me with a firm hand.

  'Not yet. Let me... let me do some stuff to you first.'

  That either sounds sexy as hell, or deeply disconcerting, depending on your frame of mind. 'What kind of stuff?'

  He blushes red, as is the norm when discussing new sexual opportunities. 'Well, I've been on the internet again...'

  'Oh, good God.'

  He waves a hand. 'Just, just trust me. This is something you'll like.'

  'How do you know if I'm going to like it, before you even - oh my!'

  Matt's head has disappeared between my legs.

  I have never been much of a fan of the world wide web, to be honest. I've always found it to be a bit too complicated for my liking, and all that social media rubbish passes me by completely. As far as I've been able to make out, the internet is full of useless information, horrible people hiding behind fake identities, and has done far more harm than good when it comes to meaningful human interaction.

  Over the next few minutes though, I am forced to totally reconsider my position.

  I now firmly believe the internet to be THE GREATEST INVENTION IN HUMAN HISTORY.

  My head falls back against the soft warm bed of grass as Matt continues to dot com the hell out of my clitoris.

  This is a stupendously excellent way to spend a late Sunday morning.

  Above
my head, I see striking blue skies ringed by branches of proud, strong pine trees. A few wisps of cloud float across the azure expanse, and a gentle breeze caresses my face.

  This.

  Is.

  Fucking.

  Bliss.

  My eyes close as Matt changes tempo slightly with his tongue, to send me riding off on a fresh wave of pleasure. I clamp my legs around his head as my brain starts to rocket skyward to join the clouds.

  With a gasp, my eyes fly open again, expecting to see the blue sky above me, the perfect visual accompaniment to my oncoming orgasm.

  There is no blue sky though.

  There is only portly Beagle head.

  The chubby dog is looking down at me quizzically, his long snout nearly touching my forehead.

  I am transfixed with immediate horror.

  The Beagle, who - as a dog - thinks nothing of having sex in front of others, is obviously unaware of my immediate distress, and gives me a friendly lick on the nose. He then makes a deep huffing noise and licks me again, this time right across my left eye.

  'Matt!' I screech, scaring the dog away.

  Bunion looks up from his administrations. 'What's the matter? Am I doing something wrong?'

  I don't have time to explain. I just push his head away from my vagina, and go scrabbling for my combat trousers.

  Matt looks forlorn. 'Shit. I'm sorry! I thought I was doing it right, but I must not have read the web page correc - oh Jesus Christ, there's a fucking dog watching us.'

  'Yes, there is Matt!' I wail, yanking on the combats. 'He belongs to that old couple. They must be over there too!'

  The Beagle is now regarding us with curiosity from a safe distance. His head is cocked to one side.

  'Shoo!' Matt cries and flaps his hands in the dog's direction. The Beagle ignores this, of course. He's a dog, not a small budgerigar.

  I get my Caterpillars on in short order and am on my feet again, head whipping around, looking for signs of the dog's owners.

  'We should get back to the path,' Matt suggests.

  'Yes. We should,' I reply in a rather strained voice.

  The Beagle, finally convinced the show is over, makes off back towards the path. We follow, hoping and praying that his owners are still far enough down the path that they don't see us as we reappear from the woods.

  Nope.

  There they are, right in bloody front of us.

  'Good morning to you,' the old boy says in a thick Highland accent.

  'Morning!' Matt and I say together, a little too quickly.

  'Sorry if wee Bonneville scared you,' the woman says. 'He's a nosy old fool sometimes.'

  'Oh, no trouble,' Matt tells her. 'We were just... we were just...'

  Great, his mind's frozen. I'll have to come up with an excuse. 'We were just examining some interesting moss formations,' I hurriedly interject.

  The old woman's eyebrow shoots up. 'Were you now?'

  'Yes.'

  'I see. Well, some of the moss appears to have gotten into your hair there, lass.' She points at my head. 'You must've been examining it very, very closely.'

  I reach up and pull the small thatch of moss out of my hair, issuing a smile of ingratiating stupidity as I do so.

  'I think we should be getting back to the hotel,' Matt says, all in one breath. 'It was nice to meet you both!' He looks down at the Beagle and gives him the stink eye. 'And you too Bonneville.'

  The dog replies with another deep huff, before trotting back into the undergrowth.

  'Nice to meet you too,' the old man says.

  His wife smiles knowingly. 'Good luck with your moss investigations,' she says, evidently trying to suppress a chuckle.

  'I think we got away with it,' Matt says as we tramp back down the hill.

  'Only if they were both brain damaged. They knew what we were up to.'

  Matt's face twists. 'Eww. But they were old.'

  'Yes, but once upon a time, before Bonneville the Beagle, they were young. If she believed we were looking for moss, then I'm Billy Connolly.'

  'I can't believe that dog found us like that.'

  I let out a sigh that speaks volumes. 'I can. We seem to suffer from a severe case of coitus interruptus on a frighteningly regular basis.'

  'Hmm,' he says thoughtfully. 'Maybe that's why you've developed your little problem. Something always pops up before your eyeballs roll back into your head.'

  I let out a derisory snort. 'I wish. Trust me, there have been times when I wished for something to come along and interrupt proceedings before I either fell asleep, or had to go to the hospital for friction burns.' I catch sight of Matt's forlorn expression. 'Not with you.'

  'Well, we'll just have to keep trying until we succeed!' he exclaims, pointing one purposeful finger skyward.

  Bless him, I know he's only trying to help, but this may end up putting unnecessary pressure on me, which isn't exactly the right frame of mind you want when you're trying to have sex that ends with a proper climax. I'm willing to keep supporting Matt's crusade (after all, I have a great deal to gain if he's successful) but if it reaches the point where it starts to cloud our relationship, I'll have to take steps...

  Our final day in Scotland is something of a wash-out, given the fact that even unseasonably warm weather doesn't hang around for long in the Scottish Highlands, before getting bullied out of the way by gusts of forty mile an hour wind, and cold, stinging rainfall. We spend the day reading books and taking advantage of the free wi-fi. I also take the chance to spend another hour in the sauna, followed by an equal amount of indulgent time in the jacuzzi.

  All good things must come to an end though, and by 5pm we're driving back towards Glasgow, and I'm already mourning the salted caramel and chocolate pudding. I look for some in the airport - it gives me something to do in the three hours we have to wait before our flight takes off. I am wholly unsuccessful, you'll be amazed to learn. The nearest I can get would be to melt a Mars Bar over a Cadbury's Caramel and a pile of salt with a butane lighter - which really wouldn't be quite the same thing, I'm sure.

  The 8pm flight is sparsely occupied. This is no bad thing, as even on short flights, it's always nice to know you won't be breathing in the farts of lots of other people. There is also less likelihood of catching a skin disease or the flu. Matt and I find ourselves right at the back of the plane, where we have at least four rows in front of us entirely empty.

  We've been in the air for less than twenty minutes when Matt leans over and suggests we join the Mile High club.

  'What?' I respond in mild disbelief.

  'It's quiet. The toilets are just behind us...'

  'Oh well, you are Captain Romantic, aren't you?'

  'I just thought it might be sexy. Lots of people do it. I read it on the internet.'

  'Rich people Matt. On private charter planes. On flights that last for hours. We're on an hour long public flight, on a plane owned by a budget airline. It sounds about as erotic as drinking a pint of Cillit Bang.'

  He shrugs his shoulders. 'Okay... just an idea. Don't worry about it.'

  Matt returns to reading the in-fight magazine with a slight sigh.

  But now he's put the bloody idea in my head, hasn't he?

  I contemplate the notion for a few minutes, watching for any signs of movement ahead of us. There isn't much. The few other passengers that are on the flight are either sleeping, on their iPads, or staring out of the window.

  'Alright, come on then,' I half whisper. 'Let's give it a shot.'

  'Really?' The look of cosmic delight on his face is quite something to behold.

  'Yes. What we did in the forest yesterday was hot as hell... until Bonneville showed up anyway. Maybe I've got a thing for sex in public places.'

  'Blimey. Right then.' Matt actually looks a little shocked - despite the fact that this was his idea. 'Really?' he repeats, staring at me quizzically.

  What is it with men sometimes? It's perfectly natural and normal for them to be the ones acting
all adventurous and a bit dirty, but if a woman feels the same way, they get uncomfortable.

  I grab his hand and haul us both to our feet, my eyes locked on the front of the cabin. There is still no-one watching us.

  Backing up the aisle like two secret agents hiding from the enemy, we make our way to the toilet door. I open it as quietly as possible, and we both sneak inside, locking the door behind us carefully.

  The toilet is unsurprisingly tiny. So much so that our noses are almost touching.

  'So how do we do this?' Matt asks.

  'I don't know. This was your idea. Didn't you see anything on the internet?'

  'Not about the specifics like this, no.'

  I sniff. 'In case you haven't noticed, it does smell of poo in here.'

  'Try to ignore it.'

  'Okay...'

  Now, I don't know about you, but trying to ignore the smell of poo is not something I want to be doing when contemplating sexual shenanigans. But we're here now, so I'll try to make the best of it.

  'Maybe if I turn around and lean against the sink?' I suggest.

  'Yeah, yeah, let's try that.'

  I oblige by shuffling round an awkward one hundred and eighty degrees, and unzip my jeans. From behind me, I can here Matt fumbling about. I look into the rather tiny mirror in front of me to see him looking down, his penis held in one hand. He is thrusting his hips forward in an awkward jerking motion. 'You're not going to get very far doing that out there, you know,' I point out.

  He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder. 'My belt has got caught on the little coat hook thing. I can't get it off.' He thrusts his hips forward again, looking like he's presenting me with his penis in some kind of prehistoric mating ritual. It stabs me in the bottom a couple of times, which is incredibly sexy, as I'm sure you can imagine.