Glass & Brush

(Wee Hours Of The Morning / ERIN GO BRAGH)

There is an isolated sandy cay along a stony inlet on the Emerald Island,
south of Bantry Bay, still unknown to tourists,
Sharp rock strewn beaches beg rubber sandals to save bloodied soles
The tavern bar has an upstairs room that look out on the foggy seaside
The pub is well known to locals, who drink their pints,
throw their darts and wile away eternity
After a few days you’d think you were in Brigadoon

I sat in the pub, drinking Irish whiskey with a Guinness chaser
watching red haired Brigitte, a strong fair country lass.
Large breasts like half moons arose from her bodice,
Skin as white as a lily touched with pink porcelain
A face filled with red freckles
Enchanting, her medium length hair swept back
Tall on long strong legs showcased by her short apron

Not just her beauty attracted me
but her sexy saucy manner as she cleaned the wide beer glasses
Pressing them onto a device with a rotating bristle brush
as soapy water sprayed into them
Immediately I knew there was something lewd going on
The way she licked her lips smiling mischievously at me
as she pressed each glass onto the swirling rotating bristles,
her red tongue flicking across her swollen lips
She knew exactly what both of us were thinking
Fascinated by her play, I tried unsuccessfully to hide my erection

After a few days we became friendly
By the time the week had passed
we were making love twice a day
Bar maids are not permitted to fraternize
with guests in their hotel rooms, but no matter
In the wee hours of the morning
she’d tiptoe barefoot to my small room
grabbing me by my cock as soon as I opened the door
Pulling me towards her as she fell back onto the bed
Spreading her limbs, waiting to be impaled

The bed springs added an acoustic note
to every thrust a metallic guitar twang
She was insatiable, in love with cock,
in love with my cock, making too much noise
fucking with zeal, entering, exiting, kneeling,
my legs straddling as she lay beneath
She held me throbbing inside lest I pull out
I was the glass, she the brush
Eyes open, she watched me penetrate
Her vagina closed around me,
I reentered her wet and moist
She reached the zenith of excitement
Biting my shoulders, biting the pillow
attempting to silence her orgasmic excitement
Our bodies complemented each other
meeting, rising in rhythm,
a symphony of sounds, energy,
a palpable radiance filled the room
We completed our bliss
Exhausted I laid my head on her puffy nipples

We slept until noon, being her day off,
Naked under white sheets
until sunlight from the little window stuck our eyes
We awoke, showered and went downstairs to the pub
to devoured chocolate filled croissants,
strong coffee with a shot of Irish whiskey
a small glass of orange juice
Then it dawned on me,
“We never took any precautions”,
“I’m a strict Catholic, don’t believe in birth control,” she intoned.

Vacation time was over, I left her my address,
I wrote her several times
but I never heard from her, two years passed,
Does she still thinks of me?
Was I one of many?
To me she was special, one of a kind.
I wrote to her a fortnight ago.
She responded, but no written message,
only a picture of a healthy baby girl
with the face of my mother.