Poldy & Molly

"River, run!"

The first time I saw her she was running to catch a bus, wearing a long, salmon pink, Edwardian dress with a lace bodice, and a wide brimmed hat, supposed to look like Molly Bloom.

She looked beautiful, I thought so straight away. She was tall and elegant-looking, with long, graceful legs under her skirts and petticoats, a plait of red hair that hung out from under her hat and swung from side to side as she ran, holding up her skirts so I could see her Doc Martens pounding the pavement.

Charlotte had pointed her out to me when she saw her walking towards the bus stop, then called to her friend from the open window of the bus as we drove past her. River had ran when she heard Charlotte shout, and she had got on the bus just in time.

It was mid-morning on a sunny June day, and it was already getting hot. The heat was made worse by our costumes. I was wearing a black three-piece suit with a shirt and tie and a bowler hat. The two girls were both wearing big, lacy dresses and hats. We must have looked quite unusual as we sat on the bus, but that is all part of the fun of Bloomsday.

I had never met River before, but Charlotte had told me about her. I was always interested when she talked about her beautiful, crazy friend from uni. What I found particularly fascinating was that Charlotte said River was a big fan of Joyce. Charlotte didn't care for Joyce much herself, she said she had never got passed the first chapter of Ulysses, but she liked dressing up and making a scene.

The plan was that we would catch the bus to the city centre, then walk to Cathedral Green to meet with the other members of our group. Some of them were planning to have a traditional Bloomsday breakfast, but Charlotte is a vegetarian so we decided to miss that. There was to be a walk around town, with the group stopping at various locations to read aloud from Joyce's masterpiece, Ulysses.

The Bloomsday celebration had been organised by the library book club that I used to be part of. I left last year after I had a falling out with one of the other members, Colin. We had had a heated argument over the use of stream of consciousness in modernist literature. I had made some off-the-cuff remarks that I later regretted, and I had been too embarrassed to go back to the group afterwards. However, Charlotte had messaged me a few weeks ago to let me know that Colin had moved back up north to be closer to his mother, and that the book group was planning to mark Bloomsday, and asking if I would like to join. I leapt at the opportunity.

It was easy to spot the group, they were all in period costume, huddled together at one end of the green and listening to Caroline reading from Lotuseaters.

The tour took in the graveyard of St Anne's, the central library, the bridge by the harbour, the old opera house, the corner of King Square (to represent Nighttown), and there were also several stops along the way at various public houses for pints of Guinness or other refreshments. It was a good day out.

Along the way, the group took turns giving public readings from the book. I did the reading from Lestrygonians stood on a bench outside the McDonald's in the shopping centre, starting at: 'His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant.' Several passers-by stopped to watch and listen. I had already had a few pints so I felt confident and read loudly.

River's hat blew away and fell into the harbour, so I let her wear mine instead. She looked incredibly cute with the big bowler hat on her head. The walk finished at Malloy's, an Irish bar in the old city. There was a folk band playing, and lots of stout and whiskey to drink.

River, Charlotte and another girl called Sara, who has really big jugs, read extracts from Molly's monologue while we were in the Irish bar. River had a well-thumbed paperback copy of Ulysses which she read from, Charlotte and Sara read from their phones. It was a very dramatic recital by all three of them, they all did really well, especially River. At that moment, it seemed like she was Molly Bloom.

After the girls finished reading, the whole pub applauded loudly. I watched River as she went to the bar and then came back to the table holding two pints of Guinness. She set one down in front of me, saying, "Here you are, drink up!"

I thanked her. There were no chairs free at our table, the whole group was crowded around, so River decided she would sit on my lap instead. I did not try to stop her. Having her weight on me and feeling her firm bottom pressing against me was very exciting, but I played it cool. I felt I was becoming erect, and River apparently noticed she was sat on a bulge too, as she wriggled about and gave me a naughty wink. I was happier than I have been in a long time. I sipped my stout, and chatted to River.

I asked her if she had ever read My Brother's Keeper by Stanislaus Joyce, she said she hadn't. She asked me if I had ever read Joyce's love letters to Nora. I said I hadn't. "Oh you should, they are amazing. Incredibly dirty!"

I bought us both a large Jameson's, she had Coke in hers and I just had mine with ice. As we sipped our drinks, she talked about literature. "Think about it, Ulysses is the only truly realistic novel; it is the only real classic that has anyone who farts, poohs or wanks. Human beings do all of those things all of the time, but when it comes to literary representations of humans, everyone is silent. Except Joyce. Tolstoy, the great realist novelist, wrote War and Peace and Anna Karenina, epic stories that are thousands of pages long and span generations, and not one of the characters, not one of them even once, farts or has a wank."

I agreed that she made a good point. The pub was becoming increasingly rowdy. The band played loudly and everyone drank merrily.

Before we left, the group sang Danny Boy together.

Me, Charlotte and River walked home together. We stopped at a kebab shop on the way. I bought a lamb doner, and the two girls both had portions of cheesy chips. We ate as we walked through the park, still occasionally singing snatches of Irish songs, River and me quoting Joyce to each other.

I remember River seemed drunk, she kept telling me: "I can be Molly to your Leopold."

"I'm not sure I want that. He was a cuckold and she was a slut."

"Really?" River laughed. "You've read Ulysses four and a half times and that's what you got from it? It's about a cuckold and a slut!"

"I got more from it than that," I said. "But you have to admit, it is a fair summary of their characters."

"OK, then I can be ALP to your HCE," she said.

"I don't know; he's some kind of pervert and she's a river."

"I'm a River, too."

"No, I mean a river made out of water."

"That's me, the human body is sixty percent water or something. OK, OK," she said. "I can be Nora to your Jim."

"Now that I like," I said.

Suddenly, River grabbed me, hugging me around my neck and planting a big, wet kiss on my mouth. I was taken by surprise, but I kissed her back.

"Get a room, you two," Charlotte said sarcastically.

River was meant to sleep at Charlotte's house, but after we kissed in the park she said to me she was coming home with me instead. She said it was because I lived closer to the railway station so it would be easier for her to get home in the morning from my place, but I suspected she had other reasons. I was so happy I almost cried.

We went into my flat and she asked if I had anything to drink. I got us both a bottle of Stella from the fridge and we went into the living room.

I wanted to show her my collection of Joycean literature, particularly the biography by his brother I had mentioned to her earlier, but River had other ideas. She pulled me over to the sofa and kissed me passionately. I helped her undo her dress and she stepped out of it. We canoodled together on the squeaky, old sofa. I remember thinking how very beautiful River was.

She was stripped down to her underwear, so I felt I should take my clothes off too. I undid my tie and then unbuttoned the first few buttons of my shirt and pulled it off over my head. She purred appreciatively as she rubbed her hand against my chest, feeling the hair.

"Oh, you're so strong and manly looking, you have a gorgeous body," she sighed.

"You do too," I returned the compliment. "Take your bra off."

She giggled, then undid her bra and pulled it away, baring her beautiful breasts to me. Those full, succulent puppies I had been stealing sidelong glances at all day as we walked around the town were now naked in front of me. Soft but firm-looking, heavy and hanging down, but not saggy. Sumptuous, teardrop-shaped breasts with very defined nipples, rosy pink on her pale flesh.

"OK," she giggled. "Now you have to take down your trousers."

I was a little nervous about this. My penis did not feel fully erect yet, despite my excitement, perhaps because of my excitement. I had a little bit of stage-fright, maybe. But I had got a hard-on earlier when she was sat on my lap in the pub. I thought that I would get hard soon enough once we were both naked together. I stood up, unbuckled my belt and boldly pulled down my trousers and underpants.

River, rather callously, burst out laughing when my limp penis flopped into view as my boxers came down. I was taken by surprise by her loud hoot of laughter and her cry of "Oh my goodness!" and I instinctively tried to cover my manhood with my hands. "No, no! Don't cover it up, I want to be able to see it!" She pulled my hands away so she could look at my privates and laughed even louder. "Oh wow! Oh my life! I've never seen one so... so cute before!"

I don't know if it was because it was cold in the flat, or because of the seven pints of Guinness I had drank earlier, or because of my nervousness, but when I looked down I saw my dick and balls had shrivelled up to almost nothing. Now, I admit I am not the world's most well endowed man. But, when I have an erection my penis is just about average in size, I think. Unfortunately, I was no way near erect at that moment, and it looked rather small. In fact it looked like my cock and balls were trying to retract all the way into my abdomen. What was left looked like a little, shrivelled chantenay carrot. River, obviously very amused, prodded and poked my small, flaccid penis and said, "It's like a little sleeping dormouse!"

"Little?" I said, sounding considerably more upset than I had intended to.

"Sorry, not little. Big! Enormous! Huge! Like a big pink anaconda!" She tickled and flicked my tiny willy while she continued to mock me. "Come on, up you get. Time to wake up."

I sat back down on the sofa and sighed.

"Oh come on, I was only joking." She leaned over and kissed me. "We can still do it if you can get hard."

"OK, cool, just give me a minute."

"I don't mind that it's not the biggest I've ever seen. It's not the smallest either."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she grinned. "I used to have a pet hamster and yours is definitely bigger than his was."

"Yeah, very funny," I said. "I've never had any problem getting hard before."

"It'll be OK, just try to relax."

We kissed and cuddled on the sofa. I caressed her pert but soft breasts, squeezing them in my hands, and making her moan by pinching her nipples gently. She fiddled with my soft penis with her hand, but unfortunately it did not stir. It showed no sign of becoming any harder or larger.

"Maybe if I suck it?" said River. She knelt on the floor in front of the sofa. I spread my knees wide apart and she leant in closer to my crotch. I thought she was about to put my dick in her mouth, but she suddenly burst out laughing instead. "I'm sorry!" she managed to say while still laughing at me. "It just looks so funny!"

Eventually her laughter subsided enough for her to lean forward and suck my floppy penis into her mouth. She sucked on it, nibbled it with her teeth, ran her tongue over it. I really thought I might get a hard-on now, but sadly, my dick had other ideas. It stubbornly stayed soft, despite River's best efforts. For that moment, impotence was a nightmare from which I was trying to awake.

"Maybe if you lick me instead?" She stood up and peeled off her knickers. I was surprised by the large, luxuriant bush of red hair that sprouted from between her legs. She led back on the sofa, and I crouched over her. I buried my face in that astonishing growth of pubic hair. It smelt sweaty, and slightly fishy. She had been walking around in the hot sun all day. I nuzzled my face in between her legs until I felt my mouth come into contact with the lips of her clunge. I licked her enthusiastically, determined to give her the best tonguing and the biggest orgasm she had ever had, to make up for my inability to shag her. I was enjoying her smell and the taste of her juices, but sadly I still could not achieve an erection. I tugged at my soft willy angrily while I licked her, willing in vain for it to become erect. She seemed to be enjoying my attentions, sighing and moaning, and her pussy got quite wet and juicy, so my face and her bush became soaked with her excretions.

But, after a while, she said, "Stop, that's enough."

"But I want to make you cum," I complained.

"I'm too tired, it's not going to happen. I just want to go to bed."

I felt heartbroken.

So, we gave up on having sex. "Never mind," she said. "I've still had a lovely day with you."

We got into bed together, both still naked. We cuddled and kissed a little more, and she soon fell asleep. I lay awake for what seemed like an hour, cursing the floppiness of my penis. After months without having a chance of being with a woman, I had finally met one who was willing to have sex with me but I had not been able to perform. I was so frustrated I felt like my brain was going to explode. Eventually, I fell asleep.

I am not sure how long I slept. When I woke up, it was starting to get light outside. I was led on my side and River was cuddling me from behind, her arms were around me and I could feel her lovely, squishy breasts pressing against my back. She was snoring softly. I remembered with chagrin my failure to satisfy her sexually last night. However, I noticed that my penis was now quite hard. The miracle of morning wood.

"Where were you last night?" I muttered crossly at my erection.

I considered climbing on top of her and sliding it into her while she was still asleep, but I thought this might technically be considered rape, so I decided not to. I just lay there instead.

I felt very bloated. The large doner kebab I had eaten on the way home from Malloy's combined with the large quantity of stout I had drank had apparently caused quite a build up of wind within my bowels. I carefully, and as quietly as possible, released some of this pressure, a gentle burbling sound and a long sigh of wind from my twitching bumhole gave me a pleasant feeling of deflation and relief.

"Poldy, did you just fart on me?" River's voice said in my ear.

"My name isn't Poldy," I muttered in reply.

"Never mind that. Did you just fart? I could feel it blowing on me." Then she whispered, "Do it again."

"What?" I was shocked. "Seriously?"

"Yes, please," she said. "Fart on me again."

"Well, OK then. I'll see what I can do."

I strained, grunted a little, and squeezed out a second, slightly louder fart, my bum resting against her belly.

"Ooh!" she squealed with delight as she felt me farting on her. "Oh yes, that's nice." Then, she pulled up the duvet and ducked her head under it and I heard her take a long, deep sniff. "Oh my goodness! That smells incredible!" she exclaimed and she inhaled through her nose again. "Oh you dirty boy, do it again. Oh my strange, wild lover, blow-off on me again."

Slightly baffled, but not wanting to disappoint the lady, I farted again for her. She cupped her hand over my bum crevice while I farted, then put her hand to her face, eagerly smelling the scent that lingered on her fingers.

She was becoming very excited by these flatulent goings-on, and she suddenly said, "Sit on my face and do it. Come on, I want you to fart on my face."

Again, I asked if she was serious, she assured me she was, she demanded I do it, she practically begged me. So I did it. What would you do if a beautiful woman asked you to fart on her face? She's crazy, I thought, but if that's what she wants she can have it.

I crouched over her, feet either side of her torso, and sat with my arse resting on her face. I strained for a few moments, then forced out a loud, honking fart directly on her nose which was snuffling in between my bum cheeks. It was a powerful, angry-sounding fart that was incredibly satisfying for me, and for her too, apparently, as she whooped with joy as she felt me fart on her. A great expulsion of unwholesome gas that blasted in her pretty face as she enthusiastically sniffed my bum.

"Oh wow, oh my days!" she gasped, enraptured. "Do it again! Keep doing it. Are you always this windy in the morning? I think I'm in love."

I felt her hands resting on my buttocks, pulling them apart, and then to my surprise and delight I felt her warm, wet tongue licking against my asshole.

My erection was absolutely raging now, harder than it ever had been before.

I leaned forward, my knob resting on her chest as she licked my bumhole, and I licked her fanny, probing around until I felt my tongue make contact with her fleshy clit. Her crotch was stinkier than it had been the previous evening, the fishy odour of her female parts now quite smelly and distinct.

"Come on!" she panted in between licks of my bum. "Do it! Fart for me!"

I tensed my guts, and squeezed out a long, wet-sounding fart that blew against her tongue as she licked my asshole.

She moaned loudly, sounding overcome with pleasure. "Oh my! The taste!" she gasped. "That amazing taste!" I licked her faster, my tongue lapping feverishly at her frothing pussy.

I felt her lips pressing to my anus, inviting me to fart into her open mouth. Who am I to decline a lady's request? I did the biggest, loudest, grossest-sounding fart. I'm sure the noise of it was amplified by her mouth. It seemed I farted for ten seconds straight, a long, loud, rasping, splurging sound, that slowly rose in pitch until it finished with a melodious squeak. River held her mouth to my asshole the whole time, gratefully drinking in the foul wind I produced for her. I tongued her faster. She was holding her breath, keeping the fart in her mouth as long as she could. Suddenly, she let out her breath in a huge gasp, and as she inhaled again, I farted once more, a stinky, spluttering, stifler. It felt like there was more than just gas passing out of my asshole, liquid shit splattering on her beautiful freckled face. This was too much for River, she came mightily, shrieking so loud I'm sure the neighbours must have heard.

"Oh my stars!" she gasped happily. "That was amazing. You are amazing."

I rolled over and led on my back on the mattress. She was led the other way round to me, so her feet were by my head. I heard her light a cigarette and saw smoke drifting up into the early morning sunlight which shone through a gap in the curtains.

I sat up. "River," I said. "Do you want to do it now?" As I looked at her, I saw there was a brown smear on the tip of her nose.

She looked back at me, and saw my stiff penis as if for the first time.

"Oh wow!" she said, and breathed a cloud of smoke over my erection. "The little soldier is finally standing to attention."

"Put your fag out. Let's do it," I said urgently.

She sat up, the cigarette in between her teeth. "Lie back down, it's your turn first."

She clambered on top of me, still smoking her cigarette, and I led back down on the mattress. I saw her stately, plump bottom hovering above me for a moment and then she slowly lowered it on to my face.