Tales of Bearach C. O’Floinn 01

Well, there is Colleen quite knocked back by her fuck, oh, she came alright, she doesn't deny she came really well—and that's from a friend of hers so it's not just Bearach's boasting. It's lucky he was holding onto her because, she says, otherwise she'd have fallen on the floor but when he falls out of her, all limp like, he says,

"We'll do that again, three times is good for a leprechaun and one for luck."

He settles himself back in a chair and pulls her to sit astride him. Colleen thinks she's got to say something,

"Four times, how long are we going to be here? I've a bed to go to?"

"And who is waiting for you?"

"Why, no-one."

"No hurry then is there?" And he smiles his wide smile and touches her pointy nipples with his fingers.

She swears they got even longer as he did that. Then he sucks them, I'm surprised he hadn't done that already, you know what us men are like. Sucks them good and proper. Colleen liked that, they tingled something fierce. She makes a joke about there being no milk.

"Ah," says Bearach with his great grin, "would you like that, I expect if I try hard enough I can make them flow."

"Oh no, no."

He pulls her closer to him on the chair, her thighs sliding along his and she gets a shock for touching both her tummy and that wild coppery bush is as hard a cock as any wan could want.

"Already?!" Colleen says in puzzlement but it is she that lifts herself up and pushes it in and she rides the leprechaun as he sits comfortably in his chair letting her do all the work.

Well Bearach had carried her all the way around the room on the first go so he just sits there smiling as she bounces up and down. You can imagine the squelching noises in the quiet of the room with not even the clock ticking and just the crackling of the fire, Colleen being so wet and all what with her excitement and the leprechaun's earlier contribution. I bet old Bearach let her do that for a long time; there is a laziness about the leprechaun and I am sure he was quite happy to let her do the work. I know I would have been. Do you think he lifted his pint pot whilst they fucked? I can imagine that, a perfect combination for Bearach Candlestick O'Floinn—a pint and a fuck.

So obviously that does not go on all night though with the clock stopped I expect it was difficult for Colleen to know how long she rode but she was fair wacked by the whole business, aching limbs, tired muscles and, so he says, a deep contentment at the second orgasm he had given her. She can barely hold on to him, so he gets up and lays her out flat on the table on her front and she just lies there completely shattered.

Colleen, as I said is even more knocked back by the second bout but, lying sprawled in the beer over the table, after a time she looks round at him and he's rising again already. Her friend says she swears it's true. Colleen doesn't have the energy to move and he takes her on the table, he between her opened thighs, she, bottom in the air, lying flat and sliding in the beer up and down the table at his thrusts, yes sliding in the spilt beer, her nipples pressed flat against the table pulled first one way and then the other as she goes up and down the table. Imagine that, Colleen's sweet breasts all wet with the beer pressed flat against the table and old Bearach pounding away with his big cock between her white thighs, hee, hee, still with those stripey green socks on! It might be this very table.

No energy to move, just being taken but, her friend says, she came yet again and of course so did Bearach. The sight of that white bottom in front of him and the easy pushing between her thighs no doubt helping him on. I, for my part, like the thought of those pointy nipples and young breasts all covered in the beer but there again I have always been partial to a drop... well, if you are offering again I wouldn't say no.

Colleen can barely think straight, she's been fucked three times already and had a right fierce coming each time. Great crack it had been but she's not really up to a fourth time! Even old Bearach's obviously a bit weary for he's shrunk right down to his usual size. She slides off the table onto the floor.

"It's best you drink this," he says, "keep out the chill."

Well Colleen can just about get on her knees and she takes Bearach in hand, well I can't imagine he can have been as hard and proud as he was when this started but Colleen's friend says it was not as limp as you or I'd have been a long time before. So, there it is in front of her face, all damp with her own scent and his, er, exertions and she sucks it in. I bet old Bearach liked that, what man doesn't like to watch a pretty young wan's lips at work and stroke her red hair whilst she sucks. Can't imagine he came very quickly and I expect she had to work quite a bit for it.

Of course Bearach was right, one for the road does keep out the chill and as she sipped and swallowed—it wasn't going to be a glassful by now—she felt re-invigorated.

"Well, closing time I suppose," he says and gets her to her feet and as she's standing, swaying a bit, Bearach Candlestick O'Floinn goes down on his knees and, to her surprise, measures her feet ever so carefully, lifting up first one then another foot as gentle as anything. His small hands feeling them all over and all the while he is nodding to himself. How very peculiar.

"Yes, that will do."

And all at once Colleen found herself in her coat with her friends all ready to go out the door of the pub as if it was hours before. "Come on," they'd said, "before Bearach Candlestick O'Floinn does any mischief to you. What did you think you were doing, saying things like that, making a right hames of it and all." And she'd turned to look back and he'd winked and Colleen'd gone out in the cold feeling all, well all... squidgy down there as if she had been...

'Course the trouble with the leprechauns and their magic is they leave a girl all unsatisfied. Not that they don't squeal, come and all but they want more. So poor Colleen gets home still as lit up, randy if you like, as she'd been when dancing in front of the fire. Had she a husband he'd have been in for a busy night but there's just her girlfriend and well, that could have been odd. Anyway she gets back to her room feeling all safe now and glad she did not upset the wee folk more than she did and can't wait to get her clothes off and get into bed to touch herself when she catches sight of herself in the mirror and stops dumbstruck. Oh yes, a sight to see for, whilst her locks cascaded around her head are all red as before, her bush had turned as green as the water meadows in spring and instead of the unruly copper tangle there were tight curls so neatly shaped, as if by deft razor work, into the form of a Shamrock. Now I've not seen this wonder, more's the pity, but I've spoken to those who have. Shave as she might, trim as she wishes, dye any colour she chooses or wax at the shop but it will be back as green as spring in the morning and in that particular shape.

Even so she tumbles into bed and her hand is playing with her clitty and rubbing all around. What with old Bearach coming thrice and (and once for luck) plus her own lubrication that must have been like stirring a pot o'soup don't you think, hee hee!

So Colleen from the town learnt about the leprechauns the difficult way. Best not to mock or offend, even unintentional like. Mind you Colleen had a pair of sensible shoes out of the affair that fitted her perfect and never hurt her feet. On the doorstep in the morning, there they were. Himself had been busy. Rain or shine they would do the business. Not fancy but not plain. Fitted like a glove, ever so comfortable. Men and women would actually remark on what a good pair of shoes she had. She tried throwing them away the odd time but that was as futile as the shaving; they would be back in the morning. So it was not all bad really. Emerald green snatch and well shod. That's our Colleen.