An Irish Fancy

Written for Patrick, mo gra geal

We've agreed to do it, and I know there's no backing out of it, not that I would want to, not with you. It's been a fantasy of mine forever, but right now I'm all nerves. I can't believe this is actually going to happen, I think to myself.

It's been a sensual, sexualized day, as you requested. Although I never do such for myself, you insisted that I get my hair done, eyebrows waxed and shaped (feels so nice and GROOMED), get a facial, a pedicure plus some cute pink polish for my toes (so girly!).

You also insisted I get a full hour deep tissue massage with a male masseuse, preferably someone I was attracted to, so I would keep myself juicy, even if Mr. MassageGuy was all business.

And you insisted that I buy an outfit that hugs all my curves and nets me a bit more attention than I'm used to. Hard for me to do, since I'm modest, but I did. I feel like everyone is looking at me, like all the men are checking me out, some women, too. I feel exposed and vulnerable. My cleavage is showing and quite a bit of leg in a skirt that's shorter than I'm used to.

Finally, you insisted on one more thing: that I get a high colonic. Fingers in my ass, with me begging and panting last night for more, more, more, you insisted that I get all cleaned out for you, for the fantasy.

We talked about it long into the night, and agreed on when, where, how, plus a safe word just in case. I trembled in your arms with excitement, fear, anticipation, wetness and above all, lust. And then we fucked again, hard, in anticipation.

All today you were at work, with the promise of meeting up later. So ironic, and I smiled as I got ready to go out and get my fantasy fulfilled: you had insisted that I get treated and pampered like a lady, just so I could be used tonight as your slut, in a hot, nasty, slightly dangerous fantasy that we would enact for real. So, as I lie here on the table, slowly feeling my most inner, vulnerable parts get cleaned out, I smile, thinking about tonight.

We had agreed to a slut scene, one that would end in forced, rough sex. We agreed that I should send you a lot of mixed signals, which you would, of course, interpret as a sexual green light. I'm thinking of this as I walk down the Dublin street, night falling, the neon coming on, in my new, hot, tight outfit. I'm cognizant of the stares and a few smiles I'm getting, and just as you told me, I return a few.

One guy, as I'm stopped waiting to cross the street, comes over and puts his arm around me and starts coming onto me, and I let him, but as his girlfriend rounds the corner, shopping bags in tow, he lets go of me, but still pats my ass and winks at me. I feel flirty, sexy, slightly slutty. His girlfriend is oblivious (he's quite deft and subtle, such an Irish charmer -- the only person I see who notices is an old man on a bench who grins and leers at me noticing him noticing me)!

As my street boyfriend walks off with his pretty girlfriend, arm around her waist, he looks back. I get looked up and down and he blows me a kiss. I can feel my nipples harden and my pussy get wet.

I walk down the street with a smile on my face, and go into the pub where we agreed to meet. I go to the bar, order a drink, and stand there enjoying my ale... and sure enough, within moments, I'm being chatted up in a RATHER friendly way by some regulars plus a few others who've come in to quench a mighty thirst. We laugh, talk, crack jokes; the craic is lively and fun.

Then you walk in, and stand beside me, order your drink, and we begin to talk, as if we've never met before.

This is where it gets hot, because I'm instantly attracted to this hot, handsome, older, bearded Irishman who's chatting me up. Your looks appeal; you're a nice height; you even smell good. And I can tell that you're witty and knowledgeable and well-spoken, and that clinches it for me. I'm a goner. ;) And I can tell that you like what you see, too, because although not overt and never insulting, you sneak a few looks at my cleavage. Occasionally for a witty remark, I lean forward and reward you with a closer look, too. ;)

As we drink and talk, the others at the bar fade away, and we get more animated and freer with our gestures, and begin to solve the problems of the world. How has the world coped without us in charge? This surely is a mystery! You lean closer and at one point, I'm not sure how, we wind up touching, and the spark is electric. Want to get out of here, you say, and I say, sure, and smile like a lazy, contented cat. You take my hand and we walk out of the bar. Your touch is electric against my skin. I look back and see all the guys at the bar looking at you in envy and me in lust. ;)

We turn the corner and you push me up against a wall and kiss me, your tongue exploring in my mouth, and your hands all over my breasts. You cup my ass as you explore my mouth hungrily, and I give back to you just as passionately, opening my mouth, Frenching you with an equally passionate, exploratory tongue, my hands all over you. Suddenly I feel your hand up under my skirt, past my panties, fingers suddenly penetrating my sopping wet pussy. I moan and throw my head back, and I hear you unzip. Fuckkk, I think, this is so nasty and hot... I am such an easy piece of ass.

You see an abandoned mattress in the alley, and you lead me in my new high heels, skirt hiked up, tits exposed, to it, and I get down on my knees and look up at you with soft, warm brown eyes. You unzip and I open my mouth as you thrust in, my need to suck as urgent as your need to get sucked. I feel your hand come round the back of my head and moan deeply in my throat as you exert your arm muscle and force your cock down the back of my throat. You're not gentle. I am forced to open my throat NOW and suck you.

My heart is pounding; I've never done this before, met some hot guy in a pub then gone out and fucked him in the alley, but that's what this is. I'm just a hot Yank slut looking for a good time with some hot Irishman who needs to blow his load. You let me suck for a few minutes and I can feel you struggling to keep control. I know my sucking is driving you crazy, with my relaxed throat and slurping tongue and warm, wet mouth that you're using like a cunt. I know you want so bad just to let loose in my mouth and make me swallow every drop of your jizz.

"On your knees, bitch, now," you growl, and I comply eagerly. In moments, I feel my skirt flipped up to my waist, panties ripped, and you RAM your cock straight into my sopping wet, tight cunt with a loud groan. I let out a low, animal moan and wetness pours out of my sopping fuckhole. Your fingers dig into my hips as I feel you really put it to me with hard, nasty, sharp thrusts. You are fucking hard, so passionately, so intently. Such a hot one-night stand in an alley with a willing slut... both our fantasies cum true.

You can't control yourself, and I feel your thrusts settle into that hot cum-groove, getting harder and sharper and deeper. I hear your moans get louder, more guttural, more animal, and I know you can't stop, that I have to take it up my cunt. You moan louder. All the time, I'm working my ass, pushing back every time you thrust forward. My tits hang down, exposed, nipples hard and engorged, and I feel my skirt bunched up around my waist. I am getting it just like I deserve.

To make this fantasy even nastier and hotter, I play with my clit and really start cumming even harder, because I'm a cum-loving fuck slut who's a cheap, easy lay. And then I feel the pressure building in you. There's no stopping your avalanche of orgasm, ripping through you, up through balls and spine to shoot out the end of your cock, jets and jets and jets of oozing, sticky white cock cream, deep in my hot, sticky, wet, creamy cunt folds. You're moaning and groaning loudly now as you take me, and I feel you explode inside me, your balls high and tight, almost hitting my clit with every ramrod thrust up my slick tight pussy.

You take a moment to recover, then slap my ass playfully and tell me what a good girl I was. I feel your hand in the waistband of my skirt, then feel you stand up, zip up and walk off, whistling jauntily into the night. I stand up a little shaky, still buzzing with such a powerful hot fucking and so many orgasms. I pull my rumpled skirt down, realize that my panties are lost somewhere in the alley.

I burn with embarrassment, thinking of walking home filled with cum and having it drip down my thighs if I can't find some panties, and soon. I see that two of the buttons on my shirt are gone, so I'd have to walk down Dublin streets with my breasts nearly exposed. I can't seem to find my bra, either. Fuck that was hot.

I grin and laugh to myself as I picture myself walking down the street that way, a sore temptation all over again to any hot-blooded Irishman. Hmm, another fantasy, I think, and then think, shit, girl, you are such a damn slut. Europe on two guys a day? Yeah, that's doable.

I grin to myself as I realize you've put a bit of money into my skirt. I feel cheap, dirty, used... and so incredibly fucking sexy I think I'm going to burst. My fantasy has been enacted... I was a sweet, flirty, easy slut who got taken out in an alley and banged hard, then was given money like a common whore. ;)

I straighten myself (we hid some extra clothing behind a nearby trash bin), dress myself more appropriately, and walk back along the streets of Dublin, feeling exposed, vulnerable, like any man could tell I had just been picked up and fucked. I feel like if any man stood near me he could smell the sex on me in a second. I feel like somehow anyone who looks at me with the right sort of eyes could tell, this is a woman who just got fucked and who loves sex. And you know, they'd be right.