My European Summer Vacation

"You were full of malarkey before," said Sinead once we were by ourselves. "You're going to be even worse now."

I bowed. "And all the Irish girls love malarkey. Or at least the only one I care about does."

* * * *

Sinead and I hiked along a trail through the castle grounds while holding hands, stopping regularly to take pictures. My legs were a little sore from all the walking yesterday, and it felt good to stretch them out. A beautiful day to be in a beautiful place with a beautiful girl.

"What's with the you're-the-one-in-charge bit?" I asked.

"The fella is always in charge. It was fun to be in charge in bed for once."

"But there's more to it than that."

Sinead shrugged. "Yesterday, I had planned to be your friendly tour guide for only a few hours. Then I wanted more." Sinead blushed a little. "But I knew nothing about you. If you had demanded that you be able to tie me up and have anal sex with me, I wanted no problems when I refused."

"I'm not into weird stuff. I just want to have fun, and I have a lot more fun if you're having fun too." We continued down the path, the dirt crunching under our feet. "Has somebody demanded that of you?"

"Na, na. He didn't demand it, but he did pressure me hard and then offered me a lot of money to do it. It was a scary, unpleasant time."

"I can see that."

"But the everyday things can be almost as bad. I'm very organized. I have a list in my head of all the things that need to be done. Do you know how long we have to walk around here before we have to catch the bus to get me to work on time?"

"No clue."

"I do. When we did the tour yesterday, I had a list of places to go in my head, how long each would take, and a rough map of where everything was located. I got you through the sights most efficiently."

"I kind of noticed that. You did a great job. Thanks again."

"So when I tell a fella it's time to go, and he shows me he's in charge by saying there's time for another pint, it makes me angry. I feel disrespected."

"I'm easy, Sinead. If you want to be in charge, you're in charge. If you want to sing me lullabies at night, sing away. The happier you are, the happier I am."

Sinead squeezed my hand. "That's good to hear. I need easy right now. I hate feeling out of control, and I've felt that way since I graduated."

We walked in silence down the path to a fork. We were at a small triangle-shaped lake. We took the left fork which was longer but had more trees. I kept smiling all the time. The grounds were lovely, and the flowers in bloom were pretty, but I knew I was so happy because I was holding hands with Sinead. Normally, I didn't like big silences, but I was floating on a cloud and didn't feel like struggling to come up with something to talk about.

"I need a programming job," said Sinead. "I'm a programmer. Programmers get a lot more respect than waitresses. The last couple of fellas I've gone out with couldn't accept that I was a programmer and kept treating me as a waitress."

"Well, they were stupid. You haven't gotten paid yet for your programming, but that doesn't determine the quality of your code. What matters with programming is solving the problem in an efficient, robust manner, and it sounds like you've done that twice." Sinead squeezed my hand. "How are we doing for time?"

"We're doing fine."

"Do we have time to stop at the gift shop for a postcard?"

"If we pick up the pace a bit," said Sinead. Then she shouted, "Race you!" as she took off running down the path.

* * * *

One thing I enjoyed about Sinead was that she never asked about "us" or "the future". I didn't know how long I would be in Cork - it depended on how my mission went. I could be ready to go somewhere else tomorrow evening. Most of the girls I had gone out with would be pestering me now about how much longer was I going to be with them and what would happen when I left. What was the point of worrying about questions that had no answers? My favorite Bible verse is the one about worry not about tomorrow, for today has enough troubles of its own. With Sinead, I just wanted to enjoy being with her now.

We went back to Sinead's apartment for her to change for work. Sinead gave me a list of places to visit while she was at work. I had intended to spend my second day in Cork working on my mission, but it was too late in the day to start. I stopped at the first few places on her list, but touring Cork wasn't nearly as fun without her. I gave it up, found a park where I could sit in an area with wifi, and did stuff on my tablet. What I really did was think about Sinead.

I'd always thought 'love at first sight' was a myth, a literary shortcut to get two characters in love without wasting time showing them actually falling in love. It wasn't love at first sight with Sinead, but it was close. I hadn't felt anything special about her when I first saw her, and I wasn't in love, but I had fallen for her in record time. She made me happy like no other woman had ever had. She was everything I wanted in a woman and more. I was trying to keep my feelings for her in check as I knew I'd be leaving her and Cork soon. Once I was traveling, I'd hopefully find another girl, preferably a tourist like me. However, my mind kept coming back to how I could extend my relationship with Sinead. Maybe she could come visit Boston once I went home? I wouldn't have any vacation time to spend with her for a year. Could she come over for Christmas and New Years? She'd certainly want to spend Christmas with her family. Maybe she'd like to come to the US for a week-long vacation with me once I had some? That would be fifteen months from now - both of us would probably be dating someone else by then.

I went back to the apartment in a sour mood and waited for Sinead. When she got home, she wasn't in the mood for lovemaking. "I'm never fit company when I finish work." I guessed she got a lot of unwanted attention at work, guys who'd leave her a big tip and then ask her out to dinner. Instead, we sat on her couch and did stuff on our tablets until we were ready for bed.

Once we were under the covers, Sinead sat up and sang softly:

Lullaby, lullaby,
Sweet little baby,
Don't you cry.

I had laughed after the first line, but I listened quietly to the rest of the lullaby. Sinead had a good singing voice. When she was done, she gave me a soft kiss on my forehead before snuggling into my shoulder.

"You're a silly goose," she said softly, "but you make me happy."

I felt a delicious glow as I fell asleep.

* * * *

The next morning, we made love. We finished with me sitting up on the couch while Sinead rode me while facing me. I loved watching her tits bounce as we fucked. It was a position I had seen many times in porn, but neither of us had tried it before. We seemed to bring out the adventurous in each other.

"I'm going to my other job today," announced Sinead. She seemed embarrassed. "Twice a week, I'm a toilet attendant." She rushed on. "It's an easy job that pays decent and without it, I couldn't afford this flat."

"But you didn't grow up dreaming of being a toilet attendant?"

"Na, na. But you have to take life as it comes."

I was fine with being on my own today as it was time to work on my mission. All I knew about my mom's life before she came to the US was her date of birth, her maiden name of Margaret Murphy, that she was born in Ireland, and that she had had a Cork accent. She had refused to discuss her life in Ireland. My mission was to find out about it.

In January, Dad had suggested I go to Cork and find out about my mom's Irish life. I was beginning to come out of my depression, and the thought of having a mission helped pull me all the way out. My mom's death had been so meaningless. She had been a chemical technician at a small chemical company. Somebody had stored some chemicals incorrectly, and the subsequent explosion had killed her. The coroner had said chemicals had sprayed all over her body and then burnt her to death. When Dad suggested the trip, he pointed out that Mom would have never tolerated me going to Cork to poke around. We both had felt that if I could find out her history, why she left, and maybe meet her family; it would give some meaning to her death.

I hadn't mentioned my mission to Sinead because I believed Mom had left because of some scandal. I wanted to find out why she had left without stirring up the scandal again. It was probably stupid to keep my mission a secret, but I didn't see how keeping it a secret could hurt.

My mother had been nineteen when she arrived in Boston. Schooling in Ireland is similar to the Harry Potter books in that children go to a primary school and then, when they turn thirteen, a secondary school - the equivalent of Hogwarts. It takes six years to finish secondary school, though it is common to skip the fourth year and finish in five. So Mom would have been a recent secondary school graduate or possibly one year out of school when she came to the US. Sinead had graduated from college one year before me even though she was two years (and two days) older than me because she hadn't skipped her fourth year.

Mom had met Dad three months after she arrived, and I was conceived two months later. My parents married when Mom was seven months pregnant. As I was now 22, which meant Mom had finished primary school 23 or 24 years ago.

I had copies of three of Mom's engagement photos. She had been very attractive then with light brown hair and brown eyes. The pictures were only of her face as Mom and Dad hadn't wanted her pregnant belly in the pictures. Based upon my short time in Cork, she looked like she came from the Cork area with hair, face type, and body style similar to a lot of the people I've seen. Her Cork accent had almost disappeared before her death, but her accent when I was a kid was like Sinead's.

My plan was simple - go to the secondary schools in the Cork area, look at their yearbooks from 23 to 25 years ago, and search for pictures of Margaret Murphy that were similar to Mom's engagement photos. I would say I was looking for a friend's dad's picture. No one should notice that I was digging around into Mom's possibly scandalous past. Once I knew her school and the names of some of her classmates, I would figure out what to do next.

Irish secondary schools were in session in May. I dug out a folder from my backpack which had Mom's photos, a list of Cork secondary schools, and a map of where they were located. I found the closest one and figured out how to get there. I then made my lunch, put everything I needed in my daypack, and set off.

* * * *

I entered the secondary school and went into the school office.

"Hello, my name is Noel Vaupel," I said to the school administrator who greeted me, a woman who looked to be around sixty. "I'm an American visiting Cork. The father of a friend of mine is from Cork, and he would have graduated from secondary school 23 or 24 years ago. I promised my friend that I'd try to get some pictures of his dad from his yearbook. Could I please see your yearbook from 24 years ago?"

"A yearbook?" she asked with a confused look on her face

"Yes, your yearbook. Do you have your yearbooks from back then?"

"What's a yearbook?"

We were off to a bad start. "It's a book published by the school which has a picture of every kid who attended that year. It has pictures of teams and clubs too. You have something like that, right?"

She gave me a look which made it clear she I thought I was spouting gibberish. "Na, na," she said very slowly. "We don't have anything like that."

"You don't have something you give the kids as a memento of their year here?"

She continued to look at me with total incomprehension. "Na, na. We don't give them any mementos."

"Would other secondary schools have yearbooks?"

Another blank stare. She slowly shook her head before saying, "Na, na. Not that I'm aware."

"Well, thank you very much."

I went outside, not knowing what else to do. My plan had seemed so clever back in Boston. It had never crossed my mind that Irish secondary schools wouldn't have the equivalent of yearbooks.

Maybe other secondary schools did. I didn't have any other plan, so I decided to continue with my old one and hope for better luck at the next school.

At the next secondary school, I got the same look of total incomprehension. I went to a third secondary school and got the same response. I got the feeling that I would have had better luck if I had asked about what druidic rituals the students had done 25 years ago.

I went to a library and tried to think of an alternative plan. Could I call up people named Murphy and ask them if they knew of a Margaret born 42 years ago who had moved to Boston when she was 19? How common of a last name was Murphy? I asked my dear friend Google and found out "Murphy is the most common and widespread name in Ireland, especially in County Cork."

Fuck!

I should have known all this before I came here. I should have asked people in Boston if my plan made any sense. But I had been so smart, so secretive.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

There was no point in worrying about it now. It was almost three, and Sinead would be home a few minutes after five. I wanted to have a great dinner waiting for her. My favorite Weight Watchers recipe was for Steak Diane, and I had made it numerous times for my parents to celebrate their birthdays and anniversaries. I was going to make it tonight for Sinead. I had to figure out a couple of sides. Perhaps a bottle of wine to go with it. Sinead didn't want me to take her to an expensive restaurant, but I could make her that quality of a meal. After dinner, I'd ask her for ideas on how to find Mom's past.

* * * *

"That was incredible," said Sinead after she finished the last bite of steak. "I don't think I've ever had a better meal."

I smiled, pushed my chair away from the table, and leaned back into it. I felt satisfied - the meal had turned out as I had hoped, and Sinead had raved about it the whole time we ate. "Well, I think you are incredible and wanted to make a meal that would make you happy."

"Happy?" Sinead pushed her chair back and stood up. "You don't make me just happy, you know." She walked around the oval-shaped dining table. "You make me crazy." She sat on the edge of the table in front of me. "Do you know who I thought about all day today?" She started doing something with the top of her dress.

"The Pope?"

Sinead snorted. "You. I have known you for three days now, and I can't stop thinking about you." Whatever she had done had loosened the top of her dress and she pushed it down. "Let me show how happy you make your crazy woman." Sinead unhooked her bra and tossed it across the room. "Come suck your crazy woman's tits."

"You're in charge," I said as I stood up.

"That's right," Sinead said as she guide my mouth to her right tit. "And don't you ever forget it."

As I sucked on her right tit, I cupped her left. I loved the feel of her tits. Her tit perfectly filled my hand.

"Oh God, Noel. You get me so hot."

I took that as a challenge to get her hotter.

I released her tit and kissed her, ramming my tongue into her mouth. I put my arms around her to support her back as I slowly tilted her backward. She fought me at first, then relaxed. I kept one arm around her back and used the other arm to clear the table behind her the best I could. Sinead kept pushing her dress top down until it was bunched up around her waist. I broke off the kiss and started nibbling on her neck while grinding my crotch into hers. She was lying back far enough that she could support herself on the table using her elbows. I kept one arm around her back to support her while using my other hand to steady her as I dry-humped her crotch.

"This is so crazy," she said. "So fucking crazy."

I had no plan in mind. All I knew was that I wanted this sexy woman here and now.

"Stand up for a sec," Sinead told me.

I stood up while keeping my crotch pressed into hers. Sinead twisted while continuing to mostly lie on the table and grabbed the bottle of red wine. She poured a little wine over her right tit. "I've spilled, Noel. Would you lick that up please?"

The wine was running down her chest and heading towards the dress bunched around her waist. I intercepted it with my tongue and then slowly licked up her chest until I reached her tit, which I sucked into my mouth.

"I feel another spill coming on."

I released her nipple and pulled back to watch her pour some wine on her left tit. I watched it run down her chest until it got close to her dress, where once again I intercepted it and followed it with my tongue back to her tit.

"My dress is going to be such a mess. Let me take it off."

I backed away from the table. Sinead stood up and stripped off her dress and her panties. As she got back onto the table, I took my clothes off.

"I see another wine spill about to happen," said Sinead as she grabbed the wine bottle again. This time, she guided the bottle downward and poured a small amount of wine between her pussy lips. "Lap that up, won't you?"

I dived in like a man desperate for something to drink. Sinead was sopping wet. The wine and her juices made for an interesting flavor combination. I licked and sucked, licked and sucked while removing glasses and dishes from the table the best I could. Sinead was fully stretched out on the table with her butt right at the edge of the table and her legs bent sharply at the knee. With my arms, I supported her legs the best I could.

After a couple of minutes, she grabbed my ears and pulled me up. "Fuck me. I need to be fucked right now."

I stood up, lined up my cock, and plunged into her. She was so wet that I easily slid all the way in.

"Oh, God!" she moaned.

Sinead arched her back and reached above her head to grasp the edge of the table. She was the perfect combination of beauty and animal lust. I grabbed her hips with both hands and slammed into her. The table squeaked beneath us. I pulled back and slammed, pulled back and slammed. I quickly fell into a rapid rhythm of fucking.

"Oh! Oh! My God, aye! Oh!"

I moved her legs into different positions as bending them sharply looked uncomfortable. I slipped my arms under her knees and spread her legs out wide. I let her feet hang down below the table top as I supported her legs with my arms. I eventually raised her legs straight up so that her feet were above my shoulders. The table squeaked, squeaked, squeaked as I continued to pound her hard.

"Oh God! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

This fuck was the wildest and most intense in my life. I hoped it was as awesome for Sinead as it was for me and that she would be coming soon as I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

Thankfully, Sinead's moans rose in pitch. "Oh! OH! OH! OOOOOHHHHHHH!"

I felt her pussy tighten on my cock. At the same time, I felt my balls tingle and then I was coming too. Squeak, squeak, squeak went the table in time with my spurts.

With my cock still buried in Sinead, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her. I lifted her off the table and staggered the few feet to the couch. I flopped down on my back as slowly as I could with Sinead above me.

"That was the craziest thing I've ever done," said Sinead.

"It was the most memorable meal I've ever had."

Sinead gave me a small punch in my chest. I continued to hold her in my arms. She felt so good next to me. She burrowed in a bit, putting her head on my shoulder.

"These last few days have been so crazy," said Sinead. "Noel...I want to ask you...Well, I should tell you something first. I didn't meet you by accident in the English Market."

"You didn't?"

"Na, na. Let me back up. When I didn't get the job at Apple, I decided to move to Boston as soon as I could save enough money. I know it's very expensive to live in Boston, and I was worried about how I could afford to stay there. So I came up with the idea of trying to befriend Yanks, hopefully from near Boston. Take them round, be friendly with them. Then I'd ask if I could stay with them when I moved to America."