Real Irish


Patrick was a student, temporarily living in Canada to complete a Master’s degree in Environmental Sciences. He had a lilting brogue that made me want to fuck him the moment I saw him behind the counter of my favourite local café, Baristas and Beans aka B&B. My friends and I nicknamed it Boys & Booty because the servers were hot.

The food was decent too. It didn’t hurt that they served breakfast all day. The café was a Mecca for artists, hipsters, and n’er do wells, which meant it was the perfect place for me to pilfer sound bites for my stream of consciousness novel, which I’d been working on for seven years and counting without any plans to finish it any time soon.

I frequented the café Wednesday afternoons, when young Patrick was working, mostly just to gaze into those coal black eyes and fantasize about giving his dark ponytail a tug or two in bed. Indecent thoughts for a middle-aged spinster, I know.

I’d made a coffee date with my good friend, Serene, on a day other than Wednesday. Can you blame me for wanting to keep Patrick to myself, even if I was too shy to do anything more than worship him from afar?

Serene’s name didn’t match her personality one wit. The woman was feisty, sexy, and somewhat mad, staying up all hours smoking her Gauloises and reading Beckett. The ghosts and demons of that Irish writer certainly haunted her. She thrived on dystopia. Her bouts of insomnia were legendary. She could go for days without sleep, only to collapse for a week after. Somehow the sleeplessness engendered amazing creativity. Occasionally Serene would query me about a line or two, so I had hints at her genius, but she was also a perfectionist who kept most of her writing to herself.

As for me, my mother, being an avid reader of Greek mythology, had named me Daphne, as daffy a name for a short curvy brunette as could possibly be. And if my father was a river god, I never knew because he died when I was ten.

Serene and I had two things in common. Not the sleeplessness, I sleep like a champion. I can sleep all evening, through the night and still have a nap in the daytime. No, it’s that we’re both fiends for whiskey and devilishly good-looking scoundrels. The difference was, while she acted on her temptation to both, I succumbed only to my desire for liquor, too shy to attempt liaisons with the satyrs of my dreams. We’re both in our forties, but she’s on the right end and I’m on the wrong end.

So it was with some trepidation that I discovered Patrick working on the day I’d arranged to meet Serene at the café. Not his usual shift at all. He’d been flirting with me for the last few weeks, as waiters tend to do with mousy ladies, attempting to get large tips. I’d enjoyed it and was under no illusion that it was anything more. But I didn’t want him to supplant me in his attentions with Serene.

Serene is drop dead gorgeous. Imagine the flowing locks of Botticelli’s Venus as she steps out of the sea, the long graceful neck, the perky breasts and never-ending legs, the willowy yet slim form. Serene is Venus come to life. And men appreciate that about her, I say in understatement. Once she’s in a room, no other woman is seen. We might as well be signs on the wall or doors to walk into.

In walked Serene and sat across from me at my favourite table for watching the handsome baristas, the one nearest to the front counter. Patrick came over and you could see he was already smitten. We got free Bailey’s in our coffees that day, more than one as he kept coming over to refill our cups, breaking all kinds of rules, which only made him more attractive to Serene and me.

Eventually he confided that the boss wanted to change the menus to say “Real Irish Coffee” when describing all their various coffee and Bailey’s concoctions. He told us that real Irish meant whiskey in your coffee, not fucking Bailey’s, which he pronounced in that sexy way, “fookin.”

Real Irish alright. I wanted ‘real Irish’ right then and there. Gazing over at Serene, I could see she wanted the same. She had that glint in her eye, the determined one that said the man didn’t have a chance. Or rather was soon going to have the best damn night of his life. I don’t know whether she was just shy in front of me or distracted, but she didn’t make a move.

We walked out of the café and said goodbye. I wandered along home, which was nearby. I figured Serene would be back the next day or so to give young Patrick her number.

That night I had a lurid fantasy featuring Patrick and me and wouldn’t you know, Serene. Now I’ve never had sex with a woman before, but in this dream, we were all lying on Serene’s king-sized bed. Serene was stroking the Irish lad’s dick, while I munched away on her tits. Her perfectly round 36Bs with their sweet little rosebud nipples. While she gave the boy a good hand job, I licked away at her neck, nuzzled my nose into the crook of her Pachouli-scented shoulder, tangled my fingers in her flowing brown locks, pressed my lips against that high white forehead and rubbed my fingers over her eyebrows. I woke up with a soaked cunt and a completely blown mind.

The next few days, being around Serene was an awkward and intimidating proposition, but we had a standing dinner at her place every Friday, so I went over and we chit chatted. Or rather, she talked and I listened, trying not to let myself be distracted by her beauty. When she’s nervous, she takes her untameable hair in her hand and bunches it into a makeshift ponytail. It’s endearing and sexy. We had pie for dinner on her overstuffed green velvet couch.

To spend time with Serene was to be wrapped in her decadence. Over Gauloises and Jameson’s Irish Whiskey the talk turned to Patrick.

“Why didn’t you go after the boy?” I asked her.

Serene shrugged and took a deep drag of her cigarette.

“I thought you wanted him.”

“What a delightful friend you are,” I said and reached over to pat her on the shoulder. She gave me a wee peck on the cheek, and I blushed.

“Are you going to make a move on him?” she asked.

“You know I’m too shy for that, Serene…not on my own anyway.”

I looked at her and smiled. Despite being stuffed with pie and triple distilled whiskey, I was still capable of thought, not the most rational thought, but thought it was.

“But I think I know how to facilitate things, if you’re willing…”

Serene tilted her head to listen. I thought of how easy it would be to lean over and kiss her right then, the last of the apple pie crumbling into bits of fruit and pastry, her grandmother’s good china smashing into shards of pink and yellow.

“Don’t leave me in suspense, woman,” she said, impatiently tapping her ripped up fingernails against the arm of the couch.

I took a deep breath and plunged in.

“What if we both fucked him…you know…made it a threesome? All guys love those and it could be fun. Have you ever had one?”

I was babbling now, so nervous, my words popping like champagne bubbles.

Serene picked up the plates and moved to the kitchen.

I worried that I’d offended her and didn’t know whether to follow her in or stay where I was. I sat awkwardly on the couch, my legs crossed over my cunt, which despite or possibly because of the tension and the idea of fucking both Serene and Patrick at the same time, had become sopping wet.

“I thought we needed more Jameson’s for this,” Serene said as she waltzed back into the room with the bottle and topped up our tea cups. A drop of whiskey had spilled onto the edge of my cup and started its way down. Serene reached over and trailed her finger along the edge of the fine bone china, then raised the whiskey-covered fingertip to her mouth and sucked.

“Wouldn’t want to waste it,” she said.

My cunt clenched in agony. This was one hell of a sexy wench.

“I think…your idea has merit,” she said. “Let me arrange things, Daphne.”

That was Serene all over. When she wasn’t haunted by demons and insomnia, she didn’t analyze, she didn’t agonize over men, she just took things in hand, or cocks in hand, if what she’d told me about her past adventures was true, and I had no reason to doubt it was.

I knew she’d have his phone number as quick as a bunny. I walked home that night bleary-eyed with booze, high on sugar and horny as a succubus. I was also timid as a lamb. I wondered what I had done by setting this whole thing in motion. It was probably the most brazen act I had ever committed, and it was about to become more brazen.

Some time went by. I returned to my safe little world of researching Joycean gems to plunder for my novel. I was too nervous to contact Serene. I didn’t want her to think I was too eager or desperate. I visited B&B once that week, on the day I hoped Patrick would be there because I couldn’t resist taking a peek at those sexy dark eyes again and fantasizing about him, Serene and me all snuggled up in bed together.

Sure enough, Patrick was there. He came over and took my order, a glint in his eye.

“I’ll take a real Irish,” I said, and he smiled as he poured a double whiskey into my macchiato.

“I hear we’re going to have some fun later…aren’t we now?” he said quietly to me as I sipped my drink. The heat of his words, combined with the whiskey and coffee concoction, scalded my throat.

I cleared my throat.

“So…Serene talked to you?” I asked, well, it was more of a squeak.

“She did that,” he said, giving me the once over, his eyes taking in my curves and more cleavage than I usually showed. I was randy, ok? I had dressed a smidge more revealingly than usual.

I blushed and tried to stir my coffee alluringly, ending up spilling it all over the god damn table. Patrick swiftly cleaned up my mess with a rag, his hand brushing against mine as we both reached down to pick up the spoon that had fallen to the floor.

I could feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering, all ready to soar when set free.

“Later, darlin’,” he said to me in that delightful brogue that sent shivers down my spine.

I wondered when later was exactly and did I have time to shave my legs, get a Brazilian, have a full mani-pedi, go on a diet and grow at least three inches. All this was going through my mind when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Serene:

“All set for 8. I’ve got whiskey, lube & a boatload o condoms.”

My hand shook as I dropped the phone on the table with a smack. Patrick looked over at me and my whole body flushed rose. Soon he was going to see this body, put his hands on it, put his hands on Serene’s gorgeous body…

And then my mind stopped. In horror. Thin piercing horror movie horror. What if he compared us and found me lacking? What if I wasn’t as good a cock sucker as Serene? What if he liked her tiny firm tits better than my larger ones, which had started to sag? What if he was put off by my belly? What if Serene was? What the HELL was I thinking…

I texted Serene back and my fingers trembled as I typed:

“Can’t make it, sorry. Migraine.”

My phone rang. I ignored it. Gathered up my stuff as best as I could, my cheeks flaming with shame and embarrassment. I stumbled out of the café and into the street, running smack dab into Serene.

“I knew you’d be here. I knew you’d have second thoughts. Forget it.”

She grabbed my arm and pretty much frog-marched me over to the bus stop.

“We’re going shopping.”

Shopping was another of Serene’s cure alls: men, whiskey and shopping.

There’s no point trying to protest or stop the juggernaut that is Serene. Once she sets her mind on something, it is done. I had hoped to sneak away like the coward I was, but once in her firm grasp, I had no choice but to acquiesce. And of course, there was a part of me, the libido part, that didn’t want to retreat, that wanted to find myself at the foot of the bed, worshipping the god and goddess as they made love, licking their feet, being treated like a worthless slave. Actually the whole Egyptian scenario was started to turn me on.

Serene’s idea of shopping is to sit at a fancy boutique and have clothes brought to her while sipping bubbly. I had neither the money nor the time for such nonsense normally but I went along with it all, the champagne having removed the last of my abilities to say no.

God she was beautiful, her lips wet with high-priced champagne, her shoulder strap alluringly dropped over a shoulder as she squeezed into one dress after another. It was a tight fit in the dressing room, but she insisted we go in there together. As I was standing in my oldest bra and panties, she stared at me for a moment.

“We’re going to have some serious fun tonight, my girl,” she said. I flushed beat red.

Suddenly her fingers trailed along my arm and she leaned in. My heart raced and my mind raced even faster. Surely she wasn’t going to…

And then she did. She pressed her lips to mine, giving me a deep long hungering kiss. I opened my mouth. Her tongue slid in, tasting of smoke and champagne.

“You ladies alright in there?” the saleswoman asked.

We immediately broke apart.

“Send us some lingerie, dear,” Serene said. “Breast size: 38C,” she added, as her hand slid over my tits.

My knees went weak. I thought I was going to faint. This was Serene, feeling me up, for god’s sake. I was breathing heavily, which only drew more attention to my chest. Serene put her hand inside my bra and gently stroked my nipple until it was hard as iron beneath the flimsy bra. She moved closer and I couldn’t help thinking, I should stop this, but I didn’t want to, I wanted her lips on my tits and elsewhere. I didn’t care that we were in a dressing room with other shoppers nearby or that the saleswoman would return at any moment. I wanted those hot wet lips on my tit. I wanted to the draw of her mouth on my nipple. Hell, I wanted more. I wanted to kneel down and press my tongue to her cunt. I wanted to taste it, to worship it, to make her come.

My cheeks felt hot as I put my hand on her head and drew her nearer, getting her mouth as tight and close as possible to my breast. The bra had slipped down. Serene’s tongue was licking at one nipple while her fingers plucked at the other. A sharp pang of desire surged from the tips of my breasts down into my cunt.

We heard footsteps. Serene moved away and put her hand out for the lingerie.

The saleswoman placed several pairs of panties and bras into her hand.

Serene picked out a silky black set and told me to try them on. She turned me around and undid my bra, her fingers hot on my back. For a moment I stood there topless and Serene sighed.

“You’re delicious, Daphne. Can’t wait to get you naked in my bed.”

And with that she gathered up her clothes and left the room.

By the time I managed to compose myself, redress and leave the change room with a small shred of dignity, she was gone. Just like that. Leaving me with the bill for both her lingerie and mine, my legs quivering like jelly and a clit so hard and swollen I could feel it through my pants. Jeezus fuck I wanted this woman. And now I understood. She wanted me too. She’d made me feel beautiful and desired. I understood now that this was her plan all along. I was no longer nervous about our ménage-à-trois with the beautiful Patrick. It was going to be just fine. It was going to be better than fine.

I went home and jumped into the tub for a good long soak and fantasy session about Serene. I painted my toe nails and fingernails scarlet to match my scarlet mood. I pulled out a tight red dress with a zipper. I hadn’t even worn it. I’d bought it one day against my better judgement, seduced by the compliments of the salesgirl who told me I looked hot in it. Of course, I had thought at the time she was just trying to charm me out of my change, but now I looked at my full red slinky self in the mirror and decided she had a damn fine point. I did look hot.

I stood outside Serene’s door for a full minute, trying to catch my breath, my jugs jiggling as my heart battered hard inside my low-cut dress. I was crazy nervous. My hands quivered as I lifted the brass knocker and clacked it against the door one…two…and three. Serene answered the door wrapped in a black silk peignoir with matching boa around her neck.

“C’min darling. Join the party.”

She handed me a tumbler of Scotch and I took a deep draught before I removed my coat. The heat of the booze warmed right through me and down to my gut, fortifying me with liquid courage. I removed my coat.

“Hubba hubba,” said a voice, in lovely Irish brogue.

Patrick was there already, a towel around his waist.

He looked over my red curvy body with a leer.

“I feel like the big bad wolf and you’re my little Red,” he said.

Serene laughed.

A frisson of jealousy ran through me.

“So you two have started without me? Should I leave you alone?”

“Not on your life, honey pie,” Serene said, her voice throaty with desire as she reached for me and gave me a deep kiss, her tongue thrusting into my mouth. Patrick started caressing my back, kissing along my shoulders. In the background I could hear Dinah singing “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.”

“Time we got you out of that dress,” he said as his fingers found the zipper at the top of my spine and slowly lowered it. He kneeled and kissed the dimples above my ass while Serene pulled down the top part of my dress.

“Give us a hand, Patrick, undo Daphne’s bra. I want to lick those fine tits. Wait until you get a gander; they’re beauties.”

“Mmmmm,” Patrick murmured as he reached up and expertly undid the clasp at my bra. I blushed red as the cool air hit my nipples and made them hard.

Serene leaned down and took a nipple in her mouth. Patrick came round the front and caressed my other breast. He’d removed the towel. His cock was cut and hard. I reached for it, letting go of my inhibitions and yielding to the hunger coursing through me.

Serene’s teeth ran along the outside of my nipple while she kissed me. I was bent forward, my tit in Serene’s mouth, trying to reach far enough to grab hold of that beautiful cock when Serene let go.

“I think we need the bed,” she said, grabbing my glass and hers, and leaving Patrick and me while she scampered down the hall.

Patrick pulled off the rest of my dress, leaving it in a pool on the floor.

“Sweet Jeezus, Daphne, you’re beautiful,” he said. He planted a big kiss on my lips and his cock rubbed against my silk panties. He put his thumb below the waistband of my panties, and yanked them down. I kicked them off. They landed on the green couch. I smiled and he smiled right back at me, his dark coal eyes wide with desire.

He pressed his body back against mine and rubbed his cock over my freshly shaven mound.”

“That feels so good, girl. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

I could barely breathe. I gulped air as he took my hand.

“Let’s join Serene on that bed of hers,” he said.

Serene had removed all her clothes and was taking a drag of a joint.

“You two have time to get acquainted yet?” she said, her wavy brown hair flowing over the pillow, making her look like some goddess come to life.

“Yes, your highness,” I replied. I was getting into the spirit of the whole adventure.

She swatted me with a pillow.

“I’ve been wanting to slap that gorgeous ass for some time now, Daphne,” she said as she reached up and pulled me down onto the bed. “Roll onto your stomach.”

I complied, loving the commanding tone of her voice. From the speakers Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” began to play. Serene had choreographed everything, even the music.

Serene reached into a box by the side of the bed and pulled out what I recognized as a flogger. Not that I had any experience with such, but I’d heard of them.

I looked over my shoulder as I felt a jiggle on the bed as Patrick sat down.

“Go ahead, ladies. I’ll watch the show,” he said as he spread his legs and began stroking his cock.

Serene chortled, stood up, went to the side of the bed and pulled apart my legs. I felt the cool kiss of suede trail along my back and then a sudden snap as she whipped my bottom, a small lick of fire.

I didn’t think Serene would hurt me. From our conversations I knew she enjoyed the sensuality of whips, wax, fire, feathers and ice. I placed myself in her hands.

As she flogged me, my hips automatically thrust downward to the beat of the heavy thud of the flogger on my ass.

“Look at our little girl, Patrick, I think she’s getting turned on. Want to check?”

Patrick moved closer and caressed my inner thighs. His hand was cool on my hot flesh. He parted my cunt lips with his fingers and sighed.

“She’s fucking soaked,” he said and inserted one finger, then another.

“Finger fuck her while I flog her ass, Patrick.”

I moaned as Serene proceeded to unleash a volley of short, sharp whip strokes on my ass and Patrick shoved another finger inside me. Is it weird that I was still very much aware of my surroundings, even though I was lost in the moment? The music, the incense, Serene’s measured strokes, Patrick’s frigging of my cunt with his fingers, the smell of weed, the soft silky sheets, the creak of bedsprings all blended together to drive me into a sexual frenzy.

“I want…” I heard myself say…

“What do you want, Daphne?” Serene whispered. “Tell us.”

“I want…Patrick’s cock inside me.”

Serene laughed and rolled me onto my back. She kneeled in front of Patrick and took his cock into her mouth.

Patrick groaned.

“Make me good and hard for her, Serene.”

I smiled as I watched Serene lick along Patrick’s shaft and let her lips press over his cockhead, sucking him into her mouth. Serene’s fellatio skills were renowned. At least she’d told me about her adventures and I had no reason to doubt her abilities. She wasn’t prone to hyperbole.

I took a hit of weed, reached down and touched my swollen clit. Patrick put his hand on Serene’s head and she groaned. Patrick rocked his hips harder and faster, face fucking Serene. It was hot watching the two of them.

“Stop, Serene or I’ll come right now,” Patrick said.

Serene let go, reached into a drawer.

“Glow in the dark, studded or regular?” she asked Patrick as she held out her hand, which contained a variety of condoms.

“You choose,” he said to me.

I picked the regular one. This was already damn adventurous for me. I didn’t think I could handle any more new experiences. Although I thought about asking for the studded one if we had another round.

Serene rolled the condom over his erection, kissed him deeply and positioned herself beside me, prone on the bed. It was a big bed, thankfully.

He climbed on top, entering me slowly as Serene rolled onto her side and kissed me. I moaned. Serene caressed my breasts while Patrick thrust into me. I reached over and stroked Serene’s lips. She took my finger into her mouth and sucked. It was all so erotic. I humped against Patrick’s cock. His pubic hairs rubbed against my clit.

Serene drew my nipple into her mouth and sucked hard. I cried out.

“Let’s all move further down the bed,” Serene said. “I want to sit on Daphne’s face.”

With his cock still inside me, Patrick lifted up a bit and I moved my bum downward. It was ridiculously awkward and we all laughed. Serene took another drag of the joint burning in the ashtray by the bed, passed it over to Patrick who then shared it with me.

Eventually we resumed position. Serene straddled my head and lowered her cunt carefully down onto my mouth.

“Now suck,” she said.

I’d never ever touched a woman before, never been this close to another woman’s cunt. I smelled the heady scent of her arousal. Christ, I was so turned on. I tentatively licked the lips of her cunt, felt a surge of power as she moaned and spread her labia apart with her fingers for me.

Her clit was small and sensitive. I licked it gently. Patrick moved inside me. It was fucking glorious. Serene was so wet. I lapped at her cunt, sucking it into my mouth, drinking her juices. She grabbed onto my nipple and pulled it hard. My cunt gushed against Patrick’s cock. He groaned.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he said. He thrust harder against me. My cunt felt open, swollen, hot and ready. I rubbed my clit against his pubes as I lapped up Serene’s fuck juices. The pull on my tit sent me over the edge and I let out a huge moan as I reached my climax. Serene humped my mouth, harder, harder, harder until I felt a rush of sweet come fill my mouth.

We all lay down on the bed, Patrick in the middle, Serene and I on either side, and kissed, our bodies covered in sweat and sex. As we kissed, our hands roved over one another’s bodies, exploring. I nuzzled Serene’s rosebud tits. Patrick fondled my ass. Serene pulled on Patrick’s cock until it was hard again.

She rolled on top of me and kissed me, kissed me, kissed me. Her tits felt hot against my breasts. Getting up on all fours, she nodded to Patrick. He grabbed another condom and entered her from behind. They fucked on top of me, their bodies forcing me into the mattress, Serene’s cock-filled cunt rubbing against mine, sending me over the edge once again. Patrick reached below Serene and put his fingers inside me. We moved together, humped each other. I couldn’t tell where my body ended and Serene’s began.

Later on unsteady legs we sought sustenance from Serene’s kitchen. Over tea and brioches, we chatted. All of us, including Patrick, wrapped up in the flimsy silk robes we found in Serene’s bedroom. It was all too silly to feel awkward. I fed forkfulls of brioche to Serene and Patrick, licking honey from their lips.

Soon we’d managed to get ourselves over to the couch, Patrick kneeling on the floor and taking turns lapping at our cunts while Serene and I kissed. Patrick standing up and placing his cock between our kiss, our tongues running along his shaft and then licking each other’s lips. We all ended up on the floor eventually, trying to dodge crumbs of brioche as we kissed, stroked, sucked and fucked.

In the late morning, Patrick jumped in the shower while Serene and I cleaned up the wreckage from our debauchery. He kissed us both as he left.

“If you’re ever wanting more of the Real Irish, give me a call,” he said.

We both collapsed into gales of laughter as we shut the door.

© 2013 Amanda Earl. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

About the Author Amanda Earl

Amanda Earl is a Canadian poet, publisher and fiction writer who lives in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband, Charles. Her books include “A World of Yes” (DevilHouse, 2015) about a woman who falls asleep during her thirty-fifth birthday party and misses an orgy; “Kiki” (Chaudiere Books, 2014), a poetic celebration of Montparnasse between the wars; and “Coming Together Presents Amanda Earl (Coming Together, 2014), a collection of short, erotic tales edited by Lisabet Sarai, all proceeds going to GMHC, worldwide AIDS/HIV health organization. Amanda is the managing editor of and the fallen angel of AngelHousePress. Amanda is an ardent fan of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, even though she is no longer a member. The editing help, mentoring and guidance she received from members was invaluable, as was the friendship. More information is available on her site:

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