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MIK : Men In Kilts – Hooray!

MIK : Men In Kilts – Hooray!

by The CaptainOctober 25, 2011

*** This post is meant for ADULTS ONLY! ***
Kiddies, if any of you are reading this, step away from the screen and go tell Mom to come translate it for you.
GT is not responsible for any occurrences of Flaming Cheeks.  *grin*


Muscular, shirtless, in a kilt, and grinning like he’s
up to no good.  I’d love to know who this delicious man is.  🙂

What is it about a man in a kilt?  There they are, a guy you’d normally see in jeans (which, if worn correctly, allow a gal a nice unimpeded view of some delicious man glutes) walking around wearing a plaid -well don’t hit me okay- pleated skirt that comes down basically to their knees with a belt, knee high socks, and some big ‘ole boots.

What is it that turns a normally sane, rational woman into a drooling peeping tom?  Is it the mystery of not being able to see the aforementioned glutes?  Is it the boots?  Is it the accompanying swagger that is inherent with kilt-wearing?  Could it be the plaid?  Perhaps plaid sends out some kind of hypnotic signal to our brains that makes us want to drop trow, flip up that piece of cloth and get busy.  Could it be the knowledge that somewhere in the wearer’s ancestry there is a mighty Highlander with a giant claymore, perhaps some long hair held back by a bit of cloth tied in a messy knot, blue body paint, eating slabs of meat with their bare hands and (best of all) the Scottish brogue.  *shiver

Man in Kilt

Hello Gerard Butler, you sexy beast, you.  Rawr!

(l loves me a man with a brogue. I told a salesman once, who had an Irish accent, that I would sit around and let him read me the phone book.  He grinned and turned that brogue up even higher.  Damn being in public and that pesky thing I did twelve years ago in a church.  I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg him to order me around.)

Have I hit on it yet?  No?  OH, I know what it is.  You’re all a bunch of pervs!  (heehee, me too!)

They’re goin’ commando under there.  That’s right, I said it.  All the dangly bits are free in the breeze.  Makes a girl tempted to find a set of bleachers to stand under and watch them walk up and down.  Or perhaps hide behind trees and buildings with a long stick and flip that kilt up.  Hell, Jenny Breeden of The Devil’s Panties (online web comic, quite funny) does a “Kilt Blow” every year.  It involves some very good natured fellas, kilts and a leaf blower.    You can even buy a calendar of the pictures taken for your viewing pleasure.  Think I’d get kicked out of the local Ren Faire for carrying around a leaf blower and randomly blowi—(oohh, that would have been a naughty thing to put down, eh?  But only ‘cause you’re all sooo in the gutter.  What’s that?  I’m in the gutter too?  In fact I was here first?  Well, yeah, but still….)

Think the phrase “pop a tent” comes from wearing a kilt?  A man with an erection while wearing one might have a hard time concealing it.  And it would make quite the “tent”.  (Oh wait, I did a little research.  Apparently the kilt is made so there’s a double layer of fabric in the front so it is weighed down and won’t – generally – be flying up.  Although the research also turned up several men who seemed to be happy to be flipping things up all by themselves.  Naughty, naughty, boys. *wink)

So maybe our lovely Scots in their kilts have developed good coping mechanisms for the random stiffie.  Or perhaps they have really satisfied partners who keep them at a low level hum of arousal so that tent pitching is kept to a minimum when in public.  Who can say?

Goddess of Erotica save me if I ever make a trip to Scotland and see a bunch of hotties in kilts and they start speaking to me.  If the hubby isn’t with me, all bets are off. Now that I think about it, she probably invented kilts. She’s really smart like that.

There’s also a problem if I ever have a fire and these guys show up:


I think they might need to bring their special hoses….  😉


What's your reaction?
Love it, have it!
Sounds fun
Thinkin' 'bout it
Bleh, no.
About The Author
The Captain
When not in pursuit of two small children, a sausage shaped black lab, workaholic husband, crazed hermit crab, bachelor's degree, Jensen Ackles, or editors, I spend time writing and reading PNR/UF as fast as my overtaxed eyes and fingers can read and type. I'm busily writing a series with plenty of Smex Beam deployment and the occasional short story. I am susceptible to bribes involving chocolate, peanut butter, and interesting combinations of the two.

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