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I'm Duncan Murtaugh, thirty years old plus a little, current Laird of Murtaugh Castle. Sounds romantic, but Laird doesn't mean a damn thing more than owner anymore. The bitch of it is I can't afford to live in the castle and can't by law sell it.
The Fief of Murtaugh used to pay taxes to the Laird, now I have to pay taxes to the Fief. Years past the castle owned four thousand acres of land, now it's only ten. I can't live in it, because if I did, I'd have to pay taxes that I can't afford. Unoccupied it's a landmark, occupied it's a freaking monkey on my back.
I live and work in a carpenter's shop on the grounds. I build fine, handmade furniture.
It started as a hobby when I was a teen, then became my job. My living space is somewhat sparse, but I'm comfortable. Used to be the caretaker's home. Most of my space is the woodshop, used to be the tool barn. I sell my furniture in Murtaugh.
One afternoon a knock came at my door. I answered.
"Laird Murtaugh?"
"Oh, shit, I so fucking hate that, it's Duncan!"
"Duncan, I'm here to change your mind. I want to lease the castle."
"Can't afford it."
"I'll take care of that."
"Do you want to see inside?"
"Yes."
I dug out the keys I hadn't used in years.
Bottom line the travel agency conglomerate turned the property into a two-meal overnight accommodation, they did all the work and paid for it. They got the Fief of Murtaugh to wave taxes because of the potential income for the community and got the country to waive structural modifications to bring the castle into code as a hotel. The only attraction in Murtaugh is the castle, and it was just an archaic drive-by.
Me, I had to host as Laird, but got paid nicely for it. I had all the regalia, including the Murtaugh tartan kilt and such. Not a shabby job for doing really nothing.
They were way high end, never ate so well in my life. All of this was taken care of by the now several agencies that booked the castle. I had to cut back, I was putting on weight. I'm a big guy for a Scott, six foot three. I'm a ginger and pretty hairy in the body, with a short trimmed beard. I'm in good shape because of the work I do.
Often people asked, "What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt, I'd show them (me, nothing, though maybe half of men wear some kind of underwear), women got the backside, men the front, my front ain't to shabby, and I've got a nice firm ass. The visit always ended with a tour of the castle. It was one hundred steps to the turret, but the view of the low lands and the loch was amazing. After climbing the turret (dangerous, originally no hand rail and steps two feet wide and a seven story three foot wide well in the middle, the agency put in a protective hand rail. Visitors always climbed back to their bus after the descent, up and down was wearing. The woodshop was on the grounds, but not technically on the tour. One woman came in anyway and was surprised I was working in there.
I was wearing a leather kilt (my shop apron), and no shirt, with wood shavings stuck in my chest hair. " I didn't expect visitors, madam, but a tour of the castle is a tour of the castle, and this is part of it. It's a hobby, ma'am."
"These are beautiful, do you sell them?"
"You can buy them in Murtaugh, maybe two or three, but they don't come cheap, the wood detail on the thistle and ball and claw legs is all hand carved".
"I don't come cheap, either, sir" she said somewhat indignant. "How much for twelve?" I practically collapsed. Four thousand pounds plus shipping. We closed the deal and I got the money up front. "How long," she asked.' "I'll ship them in fours, you'll get them all before Christmas"
Didn't know how I was going to do it, but the tourist season was winding down so I'd have more time. When the bus left, I followed in my truck to recover the chairs I had in Murtaugh; only two, but a head start. I could live in the castle now, but the shop was just more convenient. It had been my home for years. Scotland is beautiful in fall and winter but isn't a great place to tour, cold and wet. I needed help. I wanted a journeyman carpenter, but the odds I'd find one out here were zip, I'd have to train an apprentice as I worked. I posted an add; one respondent, Angus Bruin.
"Do you have any experience with woodworking?"
"Yes and no sir. I know all the tools and how to use them and have made tables and chairs, but nothing like those."
"Are you willing to learn?"
"Yes sir."
"When can you start?
"Give me a chisel and a mallet he replied." I liked the sound of "mallet." He knew what he was doing.
"You can live here if you want. I'll provide you a room and meals. Your wage will be a percentage of the work you do when it sells, right now it could be good, as you get more skillful it could be a lot better."
"Do I have to wear one of those?" he said, pointing to my kilt.
"You can wear anything or nothing for all I care, but this is protection. The tools in here are as sharp as razors, if one bounces the wrong way you could get a serious cut where you wouldn't want it. See these slashes?"
"Do you wear anything under that?"
I just lifted the front up. He showed more than passing interest so I held it up for a while.
"I've got another that you need to wear."
"Do I have to wear it like that?"
"Wear what you want, but you have to wear the kilt, three layers of leather will keep you protected." I dug out a second kilt and handed it to him. "This is your room, go put this on."
He had obviously never worn a kilt, though the Bruins had a tartan.
"Let me fix that for you." In trying to adjust it, it fell to the floor and I was face to face with his stuff in a too tight red mini-brief. I'm pretty well endowed, but Angus had apparently as much as I did. I showed him how to adjust it. It rode well on his hips. He reached under the kilt and slipped his briefs off. This could get interesting.
I gave him a mallet and a chisel. "Make this 5 cm cube of oak into a ball, minding the grain."
So, who is this guy? He's in his very early twenties if just barely that, with no future right now. That was the way with all the youth in Murtaugh until the castle opened. It was a dying city, if not dead already, barely able to sustain itself. Mostly sheep farming on what used to be Murtaugh land.
A fit young man, this is not a job for anyone else. Working large pieces of oak is a demanding job.
I worked the lathe while he did his task.
"Done sir!
"Not sir, it's Duncan, Angus." He did have a sphere of oak with the grain able to support weight. I use a micrometer, and it was round. Couldn't have found any better help. Way better than I expected.
"It's been a long day, Angus. Clean up the shop while I get us some dinner, (lots of leftovers from the castle freezer, could last us a couple of months at least.) I served shepherd's pie with cullen skink (a fish chowder.)
"Angus, work day is over. Come and eat." I threw my kilt on the work bench then he did the same. We were both naked. I obviously invited it,
but didn't expect it.
I'd got a shot of it before, but now I saw the whole thing. Though five inches shorter than me in height and much less stocky, he was a handsome young man, blonde, blue eyed and smooth with little body hair. He was equally equipped as a man as I was.
After dinner we cleaned up and we said goodnight. Angus kissed me.
"Why did you do that?"
"I wanted to. Do I have to sleep in there?"
"No, you can sleep in the castle, Angus, but you'll have to build a fire."
"Can I sleep in there?"
"My room?"
"Yes, with you."
"I guess so!"
"He hugged me close, totally close, as close as two naked men can get."
"Want to catch a shower, Angus."
"Yes, and you kind of need one too, Duncan."
"Room for two?" "Not really, but we can work it out."
We enjoyed a very intimate joint shower.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I was just grabbing at a loose string, Duncan." Angus replied. "You lifted your kilt, you held it up a bit longer than needed, and when you were face-to-face with my cock you took a while there too. When you took your kilt off, I followed. I just hoped. Here goes nothing, I said to myself.There's no place in Murtaugh for a gay man like me. I pick-up part-time jobs here and there. Most young people leave or now work at the castle when it's open. I have nothing but a room in a cheap boarding house. No friends, no family."
"I think that may have just changed, Angus."
We climbed in bed together.
"Is there something you want to do, Angus?"
"Honestly, Duncan, I don't know what to do with a man other than maybe touch hymnlike we did in the shower."
"Good place to start, Angus."
I lay on the bed naked. "Have at me," I said. He was hesitant at first, but was soon all over me. He was clumsy, but in time he'd get better. He especially liked playing in my body hair. He had virtually none. He liked playing with the swirls of fur on my pecs and around my nipples and navel. I'd soon teach him there was more to do there.
I hadn't had a man in months. Had to go to Merchant City in Glasgow, more than a full day's trip over and back. There is a gay health club, The Steam Works, there that has little to do with health and a lot to do with gay sex. It was a heck of a trip, but a couple or three times a year it was well worth it.
Our tours either came from or went to Glasgow.
"Having fun, Angus."
"Yes, and I can tell you are. Duncan." He said, grabbing my boner.
I hadn't touched him yet, but I grabbed his cock. Felt a lot like mine. His may be a little longer, but I'm thicker. I checked, he had nice, but slightly smaller balls.
All we did was kiss and cuddle the first time, exploring each other's bodies. We'd get there eventually.
"Duncan, this has been the fucking best day of my life. Can we do it again?"
"The shop or the bedroom?" I asked.
"Both."
"Every day in the shop and every night in here," I answered. We wrapped ourselves in each other's arms and fell asleep.
Angus became more skillful in the shop and in the bedroom. I slowly expanded our sexual repertoire.
"Want to do something new?"
"Yes, I guess, we'll see, Duncan."
"Do with me like I do with you, Angus." He did, but still clumsily.
We started with a deep kiss, then I worked my way down his body with my hands mouth and tongue. I nipped and sucked on his nipples. He was moaning like an animal in a trap.
"Your turn." He was still clumsy, but a clumsy man is still a man. He'd get better.
We toyed with each other's bodies and ended with a 69.
"Ouch! Teeth on the nipples, are okay a bit, Angus, but not down there."
"If you cum, what do I do with the stuff?" asked Angus.
"When you do, and you will, I'll swallow it. You can either get me out of your mouth before I do (I'll tell you.), spit it out or swallow it, Angus." He came first and I swallowed it and kept sucking, so he did the same.
"That was great, Duncan. I guess we're going to keep doing that?"
"Yes, and more," I answered. Things progressed.
We finished the chairs in record time and delivered by December tenth. I gave Angus his share. "I've never seen so fucking much money," he replied.
Tourist season was beginning soon and I wanted Angus to benefit. I sent him in to Murtaugh to a tailor shop to get outfitted as a Bruin. Bruins were green, Murtaugh's were red. The travel agencies wanted to upgrade. Okay by me, but I told them they had to hire Angus too, but I said no to a tourist shop and no haggis ceremony. There were plenty of places to get those on the tour. I wanted to keep what little dignity the castle had.
"Lookin' good, Angus." I said before the bus arrived. They hired a piper now, who arrived before the bus. Actually, I hate the sound, but tourists expect it. Angus and I greeted the bus. I was wearing a Tam, Angus a Glenngarry, traditional for a Bruin with all the other stuff. I trained him for the welcome. It was more than bit of a theater act.
When the piper stopped, Angus and I made deep bows together. We doffed our caps and I recited, "I'm Duncan Murtaugh, welcome to my castle. This is my nephew Angus Bruin. We are your hosts tonight and tomorrow monging. Your agency will place you in your rooms, we'll join you later in the pub for drinks and savories before dinner. The pub was an old storage area that the agency converted without any structural modification other than lighting. The only major modification was the kitchen, total, but the agency got a variance.
I'm very good with names and I helped Angus learn. With cocktails and beers and such we spent about twenty minutes before dinner in the pub.
After everyone was seated, Angus and I stood up. We had practiced a joint greeting, including a gracing on the meal in Scottish.
Our dining table was huge and sturdy, eight feet by fourteen feet, solid oak, used to seat twenty Barons, elbow to elbow.
As the help was clearing the dinner dishes, Angus and I removed our sporrans, you'll know why.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please move your glassware close to you on the table." Angus and I stepped on our chairs and up to the table to do a highland reel the length of the table (We'd practiced a lot over the winter.) Highland reels are variable, some involved no contact with the co-dancer(s), some virtual constant contact. Constant contact is what we did, hand to hand, shoulder to shoulder, back to back.. Our kilts, exposed a lot of leg and a quick bit of what was under them, nothing.
When we were done with the dance we asked if anyone would like to learn, usually no takers.
"I'll dance with you, Duncan, and you don't have to teach me." It was Stewart Black, wearing the Black Clan tartan (which is black) and speaking Scottish.
I speak four languages, not all equally well, which helps in the hospitality business. Scottish, English, French, and German. You can't speak Scottish without the accent, it's part of the language, but I can feign it in all of them. Angus speaks English and Scottish, both well.
Speaking in Scottish, I answered. "It would be my pleasure, Stewart," I said, "Choose your dance." He was maybe forty or a bit more, but quite fit.
We did a fling instead of a reel, not much difference actually, but a fling is more energetic and the dancers dance around each other without touching.
When the piper stopped, so did we. I gave Stewart a warm masculine hug and thanked him, still in Scottish. The rest of the guests were thrilled. Dancing didn't up our income, but it helped tip-city.
"Dear friends (speaking in English), the hostesses have arranged your dessert buffet with a variety of sweets and beverages. Please over indulge."
Stewart came up to me and began to speak in Scottish. "English, please Stewart. I don't want to be rude to the other guests." I found out that he was a stage entertainer in Edinburgh at a dinner club, and part owner. His show/restaurant was being renovated after a fire, and he was on leave for a month, bad timing.
"Got to slip into Scottish, Duncan. Are you interested in sleeping with me tonight? I've noticed there is no Lady Murtaugh, and I'm traveling alone."
"I manage my needs, Stewart. I'm terribly flattered, but no."
"I have to ask, what about Angus, is he gay leaning?"
"Don't know, Stewart, never asked him. He's his own man. We work together as business partners, that's it. You can approach him. He will be polite, yes or no. Don't offer him money. If he wants you, he wants you; but a tip I think would be appreciated if he says yes."
I cornered Angus and told him that Stewart was going to hit on him.
"What should I do?"
"Whatever you want. I'm okay with it. But if you decide to have fun with him, change out of your tartan. You can't spend the whole night, we have work in the morning."
We milled around eating dessert and chatting. Stewart did approach Angus.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Angus and I will be leaving you now, we will rejoin you in the morning. We both bowed and said good night, saying sweet dreams in Scottish. As we left, Stewart walked with us, speaking to Angus in Scottish, "Will you be coming back?"
"I think so," Angus replied, "but I'm not sure. I need to talk with Duncan"
"I really hope you do," said Stewart.
Back in the shop I asked Duncan, "What should I do?"
"Whatever you want to do, and nothing you don't. There is a lot to gay sex we don't do and will never do. Make your own choices. Do you find him attractive, does he turn you on. He's old enough to be your father."
"Yeah, that's part of the attraction, but what about you?"
"I've slept alone for years, a night or two alone won't kill me. He hit on me first. If I had said yes, how would you feel, Angus?"
"I'd be alright with it."
"Fish or cut bait, Angus." He kissed me, changed into a t-shirt and sweats and went back to the castle.
Stewart answered his door totally naked. His body was very much like Duncan's, totally fit, but closer to my size. He was hairy, but not a ginger, it was all black (that's not a pun.) He was twice my age but still a very attractive man. That he was old enough to be my father (but my father would have been years older). Age rests on healthy older men better than younger I felt. A twenty and a forty year old could wear the same thing, it would look better on the older man.
"I'm glad you came back."
"I hope I will be, too. Stewart."
"You will. You've had sex with men before, Angus?"
"Not much, some in high school and trade school. Murtaugh is not friendly to gays, but I have no place else to go."
"With Duncan?"
"Ask him."
"I did."
"Then you know."
"What do you want me to do, Stewart?"
"Anything you want, and nothing if you don't. I can take care of it all. Just slip those things off and climb in bed."
"I guess I'm ready for most anything, Stewart, but no kissing on the lips." I just felt that was Duncan's territory.
"When we're done, you'll be happy, Angus."
With his hands and mouth, he explored pretty much all of my body. He knew what he was doing. He did a number on my nipples I had to remember for Duncan; didn't know a tongue and nipple could do that. I put my hand on his head so he would keep doing it for a while.
He saturated my pubic muff with spit while pulling on the hair with his lips and teeth. Needless to say, I already had a boner, but he hadn't touched my cock. He moved down to suck my balls, one at a time, they're big. His technique was very good, had to remember that for Duncan. He rolled my legs up and tongue fucked my ass, I think he got two inches in me. He finally grabbed my cock. I almost came when he did.
"You going to fuck me, Stewart?"
"No, I'm still just playing, but you are going to fuck me."
He rolled my legs back down, sucked a bit on my hard cock. Duncan gives a very satisfying blow job, but this was better. He spit a lot saliva on his hand and lubed himself, then straddled me. "You're a big man, Angus," he said as he forced my cock into his ass, grimacing a bit. I am and it had to hurt a little.
While he rode me, I finally touched him. I grabbed his cock and beat him off with the rhythm of the ride he was doing on my cock.
"Oh yes, Angus."
When he came on my chest and abs I exploded inside of him myself. He fell on my chest and we enjoyed the afterglow for a few of minutes.
"Can you stay the night and we can do that again. Angus?"
"No, Stewart, but I wish I could. In seven hours, I have to be downstairs in costume."
I dressed back into my t-shirt and sweats, bent over to kiss him. We exchanged a traditional Scottish farewell and he put something in my pocket. I bid him good night.
On the way back to the shop I asked myself why was that different. I realized it was all his tongue. The tongue is all muscles, I had to figure out how to exercise mine for Duncan. As I entered the shop, I was thinking that I missed an opportunity when I told him no kissing.
Back in the shop, I found Duncan in bed with the tour guide. Didn't miss me much, I thought, then felt guilty. I had just spent two hours fucking another man. I undressed and emptied my pocket. There was a hundred-pound note in there. That' a week's work for two hours of total fun on my part. If I was a whore, I wasn't a cheap one. I lay nude on the in bed in my room playing with my balls and popping another boner.and reminiscing about Stewart; my room but never used it. I missed Duncan, but not for long.
Duncan came in wearing boxer shorts. I didn't even know he owned any. "I missed you, Angus, are you okay?"
"Totally," I answered. "Stewart is a sweet, handsome, and gentle man."
"I suspected as much. I would have accepted him, but I knew he would move to you instead. It was good that you expanded your horizons. The tour guide, it is nothing but a bed," he said snapping the waist band on his boxers, "He needed a bed, couldn't give him yours." Duncan crawled in bed with me and kissed me. "We don't have time for this, I wish we did, he said."
Angus stayed with me for three years. Between hospitality at the castle (with tips) and the woodshop, which burgeoned, he became a wealthy for a man his age. He was probably the most eligible bachelor in Murtaugh, except he wasn't. I took him to Glasgow for fun a few times, I couldn't keep him forever and didn't want to. He eventually moved to Glasgow, bought half interest in a woodshop and got a real home for himself. You'll meet Brian Murphy, his business partner in chapter two.
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