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===================


 

Irish Girls

by Gingerfred Man

 

Chapter One – The Flynn Sisters

 

Everyone in our Ohio town knows the Flynn sisters. There are five of
us, named alphabetically so Mom and Daddy can remember who’s who. When
I was finishing up my seventh grade year, fifteen years ago, Mary
Alice was 17, Mary Beth 16, Mary Clare 15, Mary Denise 14 and Mary
Ellen, that’s me, I was 13.

We’re pretty close together in age, you see. Mary Denise and I are
even "Irish twins," which means we were born to the same mother in the
same calendar year, from different pregnancies.

When someone pointed that out to Mom, she told Daddy that he had
better have things "taken care of" or she would take a butcher knife
to him and do it herself. Daddy was about to point out that what she
was asking was a sin against the Holy Church, but Daddy hadn’t lived
all those years with Mom not to know when she was serious. So after
me, Daddy had things "taken care of." Poor Daddy. He wanted to go all
the way through to Mary Zelda, but Mom didn’t even want to have a Mary
Frances or a Mary Grace. Instead, he’s been "firing blanks" at Mom
ever since.

A lot of blanks. Mom and Daddy still acted like teenagers around each
other. And they were ancient! Almost 39 and 38 when I was ending
seventh grade! But they still went to bed early every night. And it
wasn’t because they liked to watch Johnny Carson. My sisters and I
always giggled at the noises behind Mom and Daddy’s door every night.
And every morning. And sometimes during the night. 

I hoped I would still like sex when I’m was an old lady of 38 like Mom
was.

Mary Alice said they were so "horny" because being around us so much
always got Daddy all excited. He certainly had a lumpy lap when each
of us sat on it to give him a sweet, goodnight kiss in our nighties
before we went to bed. Right after the last kiss, Daddy would rush Mom
upstairs and close the door. But who knows if Mary Alice was right?
Although she has always thought she’s right about everything.

Everyone in town said we were lovely girls and they were right. There
weren’t five sisters as beautiful on either side of the Atlantic. And
men and boys have always noticed.

Daddy tried to keep the male population at bay. Whenever one of us
girls brought a boy to the house, Daddy always made sure he was
cleaning a rifle or a shotgun as he was explaining how he wanted the
boy to behave. But serious threats of mere death or dismemberment were
never enough to discourage nice boys who lusted after us Flynn girls.

What made us special, you ask? We were and are all heartbreakingly
pretty and sweet. We’re intensely feminine and dress like sexy angels.
We all have C or D-Cup titties on our slim, girlish bodies and we have
pretty, tight little bottoms to die for. We’re very friendly to boys
and try very hard to keep the boys "happy." We’re interesting
conversationalists and have great personalities. All the girls like
us. And we all have pretty cocks and pink bags filled with balls and
swishing with hot cum.

 

Chapter Two – How it all happened

Mom and Daddy were married 18 years ago before this story began in a
huge Irish-American wedding with 500 thirsty guests. Both were
virgins, thereby avoiding the sins of the flesh. But they caught on
fast. Mary Alice was born almost nine months to the day after the
wedding.

Everyone told Mom that she would have a boy because Daddy was the
youngest of twelve Flynn boys and Mom was the only girl of eleven
Sweeneys.

But Mom and Daddy knew that they would have a girl, no matter what
anyone said. Before or after the birth.

They were of like mind in that they only wanted to raise girls. Daddy
was the smallest of his family, only five-six, and was picked on by
his platoon of larger, all-older brothers. Mom was tired of being
around all those men in her family.

They didn’t check with Father O’Reilly, their pastor at the time, to
see if raising a boy as a girl would be a sin. They didn’t care what
their parents and siblings said. They just took the baby that the
hospital said was a boy (Mary Alice) home and raised her as a girl.
Mom kept thinking succeeding babies would be born girls, but when they
weren’t, she and Daddy were undeterred. They just kept raising us as
girls.

After a very brief time, the families, the neighbors and the whole
town, just accepted us lovely, sweet children as girls. Mom found an
excellent doctor who gave us the hormones we needed at an early age
and ever since then, so we would develop four-star, girlish bodies.
And Mom, with 40-D boobs and an hourglass figure, and long, sexy legs
despite her five-five height, passed on excellent genes. It was our
good fortune that the tallest of us, Mary Clare, was only five-seven.

I was the beneficiary of those genes too, and at 13, I was on my way
to "having the body of a porn star," as Mary Beth said about me. I was
at my full height, five-six and already sporting 38-Cs. I could tell
my sisters were jealous. Goodie!

Daddy took tons of pictures of us growing up, and still does. He has a
whole corner of the basement filled with albums of us doing all kinds
of things, including just looking cute. In the pictures, we’re wearing
our frilly dresses with petticoats and our Mary Janes with frilly
socks. We’re cuter than speckled puppies in every picture and anyone
who saw us or the albums would know what a horrible waste it would
have been to raise us as boys. Ick!

Did I tell you about the one boy area of our bodies? As I mentioned,
Mom passed on the genes that gave us sexy girlish bodies. Daddy
apparently had a pretty good set of genes in him too, because all the
Flynn girls have very healthy cocks!

Mary Denise has the smallest cock in the family – only seven inches!
Mary Alice and Mary Clare’s are half an inch bigger and Mary Beth’s
and my ticklers are slightly bigger than that. <Giggle>

All of us Flynn girls have big ball bags too. And despite all the
hormones we gratefully take every day, we make tons of cum and have
never have a problem getting stiffies. All it takes is one impure
thought and my panties are crowded. And I have a lot of impure
thoughts.

You’re probably saying, how can we know all this about each other’s
bodies? Well you can just forget those impure thoughts about the Flynn
girls "doing" each other. We’re good girls!

We have always gossiped about boys, and we are very competitive,
though. So we told each other everything. And of course, we told
Father Murphy everything in confession every Saturday. Father Murphy
always seemed very happy when he saw the five of us lined up for
confession. After the last one of was given our penance, he would run
back to the rectory very quickly to do something urgent.

OK, well, we did touch and kiss each other a little now and then. But
only in times of sexual duress. Or in an instructional mode. You know.

Anyway, we don’t mess around within the family. Although I have
confessed to my sisters about impure thoughts regarding Daddy. He’s so
sweet and masculine and I love him so much. But I would never actually
do anything. To my surprise, my four sisters all said they had dreamed
about daddy too. Hmmm.

Mary Beth said one day when she was eleven, Daddy had to discipline
her. Daddy did spank us now and then, but only when we REALLY deserved
it. To tell the truth, I kind of liked getting spanked by Daddy. He
was so masterful!

Anyway, Mary Beth had sassed Mom, called her a name, and said she
hated Mom. Nobody does that to Mom and avoids Daddy’s wrath. So Daddy
was going to give her the strap! That was the only time Daddy ever
used anything but his hand on us, but he was flaming mad and Mary Beth
was in for it. Daddy dragged a screaming, crying, begging-for-mercy
Mary Beth to the master bedroom, pulled her panties down and off and
pulled his belt off. Mary Beth knew she had better submit to the
spanking and knew she deserved it. But they were both in for a big
surprise. 

When Daddy took his belt off, his pants fell down. Mary Beth gasped to
see that Daddy’s cock had escaped from the fly of his boxers and was
standing skinned and proud in Mary Beth’s full view.

Daddy’s cock was apparently enflamed by his anger or the prospect of
spanking Mary Beth or both. Mary Beth fixed her gaze on Daddy’s big
boy and, she told us all, was amazed at its size. Of course Mary Beth
was young, so any cock looked big. But Daddy, it seemed, made up for
his lack of height in other ways. 

Daddy was so embarrassed that he covered up, pulled his pants up and
gave Mary Beth the standard, bare-bottom, over-the-knee, hand
spanking. Mary Beth didn’t even cry. All she could think about was
what a hunk Daddy was.

Mom agreed. Mom and Daddy were really in love. Like almost every Irish
family, Mom was the boss, but allowed Daddy to think he was. 

Daddy was the dreamer. Mom was sensible.

Daddy thought we were all virgins. Mom knew better. 

Daddy did things like put iron bars on our bedroom windows. Not so we
couldn’t escape. So boys couldn’t climb in. Daddy didn’t consider that
while the boys couldn’t slip between the bars, their cocks could.

Mom gave us a lot of practical advice about boys and men and sex. She
knew that we had girls’ bodies and boys’ sex drives, the absolute
worst (or best) combination. So she tried to help us negotiate the
unique minefields of being a Flynn teenage girl.

Mom knew that we couldn’t get pregnant, but our hearts could be broken
by mean boys, so she taught us to be nice to nice boys and nice boys
only. "Leave the bad guys to the girls with two pussies,’ Mom would
always say.

Mom called other girls, "Two-pussy girls." She said they had one more
pussy than us, but didn’t have our glorious cocks. Most of them never
even used "the best pussy God gave them," the wise woman said. She
said that those girls used the pussy that got them pregnant and wasn’t
as tight and satisfying to men. It was clear to us that Mom had used
both of hers to best advantage with Daddy.

She told us all about satisfying boys and men, but rejecting the ones
who are too selfish to care about our pleasure.

We taught each other a lot about sex too. Sex was a very big topic of
discussion with us. And we had a lot to discuss.

Sometimes I think that it must have been difficult for Mary Alice,
being the trailblazer and everything. But I know Mom helped her and
they’re very close. She’s always had the privileges of the eldest.
Mary Alice gets her own room in our four-bedroom house, while Mary
Beth and Mary Clare share a room and I’m roomies with Mary Denise. It
must be nice to be Mary Alice, Queen of the May and Daddy’s Darlin’.
But being eldest has its drawbacks too. I know Mary Alice has caught
h-e-hockey sticks from Mom and Daddy when the other four of us have
been unruly. She’s kind of like an assistant parent.

So that was how we lived in the Flynn house. I had very few
complaints.

 

Chapter Three – A Day in the Life

On Mother’s Day, when I was finishing seventh grade, I was 13 and
still a virgin. Technically. I had sucked several male cocks. Several.
And I had had lots of sex with my girlfriends. But no cock had
penetrated my pink, perfect, heart-shaped bottom.

There were plenty of applicants. The boys in our town had figured out
that they could only expect "oral" from a Flynn girl until she was in
eighth grade. It was a good rule, which bossy Mary Alice said was
Mom’s idea. Maybe not, but we all observed it. There was some
discussion about whether the restriction ended when we were promoted
to eighth grade or when we actually began it. But Mary Clare and Mary
Denise assured me that they had applied the more liberal
interpretation. 

As we dressed for 11 a.m. Mass at Saint Immaculata’s that Mother’s
Day, it was the usual frantic rush. Our home had only two-and-a-half
baths, which was child abuse as far as we were concerned. Mom and
Daddy hogged one bathroom all to themselves; so instead of the two
hours bathroom time we each needed every morning, we had about ten
minutes.

Somehow we all managed to get ready and the results were, as always,
spectacular. Pretty dresses, stockings and heels on incredible,
beautiful bodies. Big, perfect hair and lovely make-up on gorgeous
faces. We all gave Daddy a dazzling smile as we entered the minivan
and, as always, his heart was filled with joy. What man doesn’t want
beautiful daughters? It’s the greatest wealth on earth.

Father Murphy stood outside and greeted us as we came in. I had never
seen a priest greet people as they entered church, only as they left.
But he seemed to have a particular affection for us girls.

Of course we Flynn girls had an…ahem…particular affection for Father
Murphy too. The poor man had a lonely life and we had a giving nature.
It’s funny how none of us discussed Father Murphy among ourselves, but
we were all kind enough to help a good man now and then.

It was a pleasant Mass. I always enjoyed it because Father Murphy
talked about love and forgiveness and acceptance of people who are
different. I guess we Flynns had had a positive influence on Father
Murphy.

We were so proud of our Mom, on that Mother’s Day and every day. She
was beautiful and smart, a great wife and perfect mother. We loved her
deeply and forever. And told her so several times every day.

That day, after Mass, we stood in the church courtyard and chatted
with lots of boys and their Dads, who never seemed to have anything
better to do. Mary Denise would graduate from Saint Immaculata’s
School in a few weeks and I would be a big-time eighth grader. My
three oldest sisters were a freshman, sophomore and junior at Saint
Patrick’s High School across town.

Dad had made reservations for us all at a restaurant Mom liked a few
miles away. We all piled in the minivan to go. About 40 boys and men
looked ready to give up everything to climb in the van with us.
Including Father Murphy.

Every head turned when Daddy escorted the six prettiest women in Ohio
into the restaurant. And we felt the hot stares of boys and men every
moment of the meal.

In other words, an average outing for our family.

We got home about four p.m. and Mom thanked and kissed us all. Then
she told us to "go get some fresh air in your lungs."

I thought she and Daddy had plans.

We went to our rooms and changed out of our pretty dresses into our
everyday clothes. I put on a plaid, pleated micro-mini that showed my
tan-stockinged legs off to perfection. I switched from my five-inch
stiletto fuck-me pumps to my three-inch strappy red sandals. Over my
head, I slid a tight white blouse that showed off my heartbreaker
titties to full advantage. 

Did I have a date? No. That was how I always dressed, Silly.

Flynn girls did not dress like homeless men. We dressed to thrill all
the time. Except when we were in our school uniforms.

I left the house and turned left, then walked two blocks to my friend
Erica's house. Every man in every house along the route was watering
his flowers as I walked by. And some of them didn’t even have flowers.
They all greeted me by name and I gave them the Flynn girl smile.
Which should have given them at least a month's worth of masturbation
fantasies. <Giggle> 

I arrived at Erica’s house and her Dad greeted me warmly. Too warmly
for Erica's Mom, who appeared and stood between me and her husband.
She smiled and said, "Erica's in her room, Mary Ellen."

I smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Kane. And happy Mother’s
Day to you."

Mrs. Kane smiled. We Flynn girls are known for our politeness.

And our randiness. I hadn’t cum all day and was desperate for relief
when I knocked on Erica’s door and was asked to come in.

Erica was my classmate and best friend and she was very pretty. Not
Flynn-pretty, but who is? She had long, dark hair, a sweet face and a
very nice body.

She was very happy to see me. I could tell because she ran to me and
threw her arms around me. She kissed me, sticking her tongue down my
throat, and reached under my skirt to stroke my big cock. 

We had been having sex for about six months and the poor girl was, I
thought, helplessly in love with me. I told her about girls like me
needing to share ourselves with several people, but she had it bad for
me.

She had been stroking her enflamed clitoris in anticipation of seeing
me and her panties were already sopping wet with the results of at
least two cums. 

We were both very aroused as she shimmied down her panties and got on
her back on her girlish bed. I pulled my panties down and off, freeing
my cock for some good work. The love-struck sweetheart was squealing
softly and begging me to put it in her. I did. It slid in as if it
were made for the enclosure.

Oh, her front pussy was slick with her cuntal juices and she massaged
my cock very nicely with her vaginal muscles. We kissed with glossed,
hungry lips as I gave her long, deep strokes, telling her how sweet
and pretty she was.

The poor girl came with great force in less than a minute, then again
two minutes later. I wished we were both naked, as we were on our
frequent sleepovers, but this would do.

The third time her front pussy convulsed, I joined her, thanking her
mother in my mind for having the sense to put the little angel on the
pill. 

My poor, deprived-for-hours balls pumped girlish cum up and out of my
tingling cock and into my friend's wet canal. She was crying with joy
and love. 

I seem to have that effect on people. 

We couldn’t do all the things we wanted to for risk of discovery, but
Erica seemed to be beyond caring. She fell to her knees, licked my
balls and sucked my big girl to another hardstand. Then she lay down
on her stomach and offered me her rear pussy, which she had
thoughtfully lubed for me before I arrived. 

Erica had a lovely bottom and I was struck by the fact that in a few
short weeks, I would be the one offering my pink treasure to the boy
or man of my choice. Mmmmm.

I kissed the soft globes of her ass, making the angel purr with
pleasure. Then I placed the wet tip of my leaking cock at her rosette
and pushed, gently but firmly.

Erica always seemed surprised when she first felt my cock enter her
rear pussy. She adored being fucked there and had entertained my
little friend dozens of times. I was grateful that she had a sense of
hungry wonder about it all.

My big rammer felt so good in her bowels, that I joined Erica in
making little, girlish squeals. I loved being a big-cocked, pretty
girl.

We made it last a long time, but when I saw Erica getting close, I
reached around her waist and found her inch-high, red clit. I twirled
it between my fingers as I fucked her pretty bottom and made her cum
as if she were having a seizure. Then I filled her tight hole with
another big load of sticky cream. 

When it was over, I withdrew and watched my cum drool from her bottom
onto her marvelous thighs and down to her pretty white stockings. I
was getting hard again thinking of how nice it would be to have Ben
Venutto’s cum oozing out of my bottom like that.

Yes, he was my choice. A year older and Mary Denise’s classmate. Very
handsome and very nice. We had been in student government and the
yearbook together. Always nice to me and never asking for anything in
return. I had never even kissed him or touched his cock. I decided
then that Ben would be my first. If he would have me. 

Yeah. Like he would turn me down. Unless he was gay. Which that trampy
Mary Denise assured me he was not. She claimed she didn’t know from
experience, but had heard that he liked girls a lot.

Erica noticed my Ben-induced stiffie and she wanted it. That time in
her mouth. I thought about Ben as Erica sucked me deliciously and
milked my balls to a very satisfying conclusion.

Erica licked me clean. We kissed a lot. Then we sprayed the
cum-scented room to smell like wildflowers. In a field of cum.

I freshened my make-up, straightened my clothes, said goodbye to the
Kanes, and went home for a light dinner.

I wiggled home, my balls drained for the nonce, and giggled to myself
at the men who were watering and waving hello to me.

There was a rumor going around that the family who lived next door to
us on the side that faced our bedrooms had been offered three million
dollars for their house. And turned it down. Maybe it was just a
rumor.

I got home at six-thirty and Mom and Daddy had finished their
"business" upstairs. Mom was humming happily as she made tuna salad
for dinner. My sisters came in one-by-one over the next ten minutes
and I could tell that they had all had deeply satisfying carnal
experiences over the past two hours.

That was pretty easy if you were a Flynn girl.

 

Chapter Four – Flashing Back to a Big Day

The first cock I ever sucked was Anthony Rizzo’s. We were both twelve
and were just finishing our sixth-grade year.

The funny thing was, Anthony didn’t even come on to me. He was young
and innocent. And Italian. Irish girls can’t resist Italian boys. It
must be nature’s way of spreading out Catholic genes or something. Did
you ever notice how many of those matches there are?

Lots of other boys had come on to me, though. Lots. 

I remember going to a boy-girl, tenth birthday for Erica. It was the
last year we all wore those pretty, girlie party dresses with all the
fluffy petticoats. I had those cute frilly socks and had my hair in a
barrette. I have pictures. I was adorable. Trust me. Anyway, even
then, boys went crazy when they saw me. Billy Evans tried to kiss me.
I let him. It was very nice. Then he pressed his luck, reaching under
my dress and trying to put his hand into my panties. I was sorry Mrs.
Kane had to take him to the emergency room. But not sorry I put him
there.

We Flynn girls like sex on our terms. 

I know I digress a lot when I’m telling a story. But it’s interesting,
isn’t it? I’ll bet you’d like to sit me on your lap and have me tell
you in person. That would be nice, but remember what happened to Billy
Evans.

Back to Anthony. He was very cute. Dark, with clear blue eyes. I was
just really getting my titties then, and they were almost a B-cup
already. Anthony was nice to me and talked to me in school as if I
were a real person and not just some fuck bunny.

Most of the boys in my class were always getting their knuckles
cracked or ears pulled by Sister Agatha Perpetua or the other teachers
for ogling me or acting like fools to get my attention. Boys sometimes
just don’t get it.

One day, I had brought my science project to school. It was big and
Mom drove me to school that morning, but told me I would have to make
my own way home with it since she would be visiting Grandma that
afternoon.

Mom was pretty sure that I could get a boy to carry it for me.

Anthony was the boy.

He was happy to help, but didn’t drool all over me. I liked that. So
much that I asked him to carry the project into the house and up to
the room I shared with Mary Denise, who, thankfully, had glee club
that afternoon. 

Daddy was at work, Mom with Grandma, and my sisters didn’t care who I
brought in that afternoon or ever. They were off getting their ashes
hauled elsewhere.

It appeared it would be Anthony’s lucky day. And mine.

He huffed and puffed a little, but got the science project into my
closet. When he turned around he got a very nice surprise.

I was standing there in just my bra and panties. And smiling sweetly.

Anthony was innocent, but could add two and two. The fine young man
said, "You’re beautiful, Mary Ellen!"

A polite boy. I let him take the lead. I nodded, thanked him, smiled
shyly, batted my long lashes and pouted my glossed lips for a kiss. 

We kissed. And kissed. And exchanged tongues. Mmmmm.

Anthony caressed my back and wanted, I could tell, to unhook my bra,
but didn’t want to offend me. I moved matters along by unhooking it
myself, freeing my delicious pair for his adoration.

And adore them he did. I had never had my nipples kissed and licked
and I was in erotic heaven when he loved each pointy jewel in turn.

I was very surprised that just that nipple stimulation was making my
tee tees (testicles) rumble. Anthony could tell that I liked it, but
wasn’t sure what to do next. I guess he understood me when I moaned
and begged that he stroke my cock. Or he just took a chance.

Anthony became the first boy to successfully reach into my panties. He
stopped licking my nipples a moment to admire my Amazon warrior. She
was big even then and drooling large amounts of sticky sperm. He
looked at my beautiful face and took a very big leap. 

Anthony Rizzo abandoned my nipples and began to lavish equivalent oral
adoration on my gooey cockhead! His hand was caressing my balls much
more nicely than Mary Denise did when we would cuddle some nights and
talk about sex. 

He was driving me wild! I began to squeal and that scared him, I
thought. But he resumed when I assured him he was doing quite nicely.
He was the first boy to ever suck my cock (although my girlfriends had
been doing so since I was eleven.) He was very good at it, because as
a boy, he knew what felt good.

I was close to the edge of the cum cliff when his forgotten other hand
entered the fray. His middle finger lightly teased the tight sphincter
of my "pussy." No one had ever touched me there and I reacted as if I
had been cattle prodded with love.

I screamed like a banshee (an Irish term, you know) and began to hurl
cum into the poor boy’s loving mouth. Glob after glob burst from my
balls and spurted from my red peehole. I was reciting prayers of
thanks for the glorious gift of sex. Anthony was gagging but smiling
too.

"Oh, you marvelous boy," I said. And drew him to me for a deep, cummy
kiss. I thought I would be the one sucking his cock, but the lad took
the initiative away from me.

I grabbed it back. Kissing Anthony sweetly, I said, "Sit up, please,
Anthony. On the side of the bed here."

The lad complied eagerly. Moments later, I was on my knees in carnal
subjugation to my first male. I felt as if I were made for the role. I
pulled his pants and boxers down and saw his very fine cock. Not as
big as mine, but I was to find that almost no one’s was. I kissed it
sweetly and Anthony moaned. I licked each ball, slowly and sloppily,
as my friend Cindy did for me at our last pajama party at her house.
Anthony really liked that. I thought his balls were delicious. I had
eaten lots of pussy, but cock was my destiny.

Keeping eye contact, I took the whole head of Anthony’s cock into my
mouth and swirled my tongue around it, paying particular, loving
attention to the underside part where the pink head comes to an arrow
point. Anthony was standing on the same cummy cliff where I had been
minutes before. I began to move my head up and down on his cock like a
piston. His cock was slick with my saliva and his tasty drippings. The
poor boy was overmatched. He grunted manfully, said, "You’re
beautiful, Mary Ellen," and spurted his boyish cream into my hungry
mouth.

Six thick globs of what he later swore was his virgin cum. And the
first I had tasted.

I LOVED it!!!!! I loved everything about cum. Its texture. Its creamy
color. Its gooey sliminess. Its taste. But most of all, I loved the
fact that boys gave it in tribute to my beauty and sexiness.

I swallowed it all and wanted more. I wanted a lifetime of cum down my
throat, in my bottom, on my face and all over my tummy. Between my
titties and all over my nipples. On my feet and between my pretty
toes. But not in my hair. Big hair is a lot of work, especially in a
bathroom-challenged family.

In my life, I’ve always had all the cum I needed. And I’ve needed a
lot.

But not with Anthony.

We were only able to have ten more love sessions after that wonderful
day. His father was transferred to California and the family left.

I cried for a whole 20 minutes when he left. Then Mary Alice said, "Do
you really think you’re going to sit home alone because your boyfriend
moved? You’re a Flynn for Pete's sake. Snap out of it.

So I did.

I had too much to give to the men of the world to crawl into a shell.
I mean, I did cry for 20 whole minutes. That was pretty long, right?

 

Chapter Five – Saint Immaculata’s

The day after that seventh-grade Mother’s Day, I was up a 6:30 and
fighting for bathroom space with my hoggy sisters. The rule was,
everyone got to pee, but everything else was survival of the fittest.
Mary Alice was the pushiest and usually got the whole, big bathroom
while Mary Beth hogged the half bath downstairs. Mary Clare, Mary
Denise and I would usually go downstairs in our nighties for breakfast
with Mom and Daddy while they primped. 

I often wondered if Daddy didn’t add bathrooms because he wouldn’t
have seen us in our nighties as much. But he wouldn’t do that would
he?

That morning, Mom was cooking rashers of bacon, thick, greasy sausage
patties, fried eggs, home fries and toast. We Irish love our
breakfast. She also had put together huge lunch bags for each of us.
We Flynn girls ate a lot and never gained a pound. Mom always says
that sex burns up a lot of calories. She and Daddy have always been
very slim.

Daddy read his paper and took little peeks at his three youngest
girls. I loved sitting next to Daddy and letting my nightie ride up
almost to my pink package. He’s so much fun to tease!

When Her Majesty Queen Mary Alice arrived in her high school uniform,
maroon plaid jumper, white blouse, white knee socks, black and white
saddle shoes, I thought for the hundredth time that only a Flynn girl
could look good in that outfit. 

The uniform was so drab and sexless, just like the Church’s whole
attitude. Why did the Church fight sexual human nature so fiercely?
The Church has wasted billions of megawatts of spiritual energy over
the centuries trying to keep everyone from having sex except for
massive procreation. Imagine if that energy were redirected to matters
of love and acceptance.

Sitting next to Daddy also put me closest to the door by the kitchen,
so when I saw Mary Alice. I tore up the stairs and got the big
bathroom all to myself. It was almost as good as sex.

I hogged the big bathroom much longer than was fair, then got dressed
in the Saint Immaculata’s School uniform – a white blouse and black
and red plaid skirt, white knee socks and penny loafers. No make-up
except for a hint of lipstick.

I played it straight, even wearing my skirt at regulation length, but
still managed to look like every guy’s fuck dream.

School was fun for me. I loved to learn and I was wildly popular. I
was a good girl and the teachers liked me. Even the nuns. The two male
teachers in our school, Mr. O’Leary and Mr. Fagan, were extra nice to
me. And my sisters before me. 

Mr. Fagan taught English to the 6th, 7th and 8th grades. Mr. O’Leary
taught science to all grades. 

I often wondered why two smart guys like them would teach for Catholic
school wages. I figured it out a year later when I realized that they
started teaching when Mary Alice was in fifth grade and both left the
day after I graduated. 

Like a lot of men, they were happy to be breathing the same air as the
Flynn girls.

Like the other girls in school, I fantasized about having sex with Mr.
O’Leary and Mr. Fagan. Other than Father Murphy, our Dads and our
friends’ Dads, the male teachers were really the only men we saw a lot
of. I remember daydreaming sometimes during English class about Mr.
Fagan licking out my "pussy" then putting his big thing into me. We
were always in some beautiful hotel suite on a tropical island and the
trade winds were blowing the curtains as Mr. Fagan ripped off his
shirt and "took" me. I thought about Mr. O’Leary too, but he was never
as forceful as Mr. Fagan. He and I would just be like, dating or
something and then we would be in the movies and he would take out his
thing and I would sit on it. I couldn’t even muster up a good fantasy
for Mr. O’Leary.

Anyway, I was having my usual wonderful day until IT happened.

I stayed after school to help sister Margaret Patricia get some of her
stuff straightened out and all was well until we were finished and she
asked me to take a box of books to the library. It was about 4:30 and
the school was deserted. I didn’t expect to hear the unmistakable
sounds of two people fucking when I walked into the library stacks.

It was clearly none of my business and I was backing out to leave them
alone when the girl squealed in orgasm.

I would know that squeal anywhere. It was Erica. What the….? Then I
heard her scream, "Bennnnnnnn!!"

That little tramp. She was fucking the boy I had picked out as my
cherry popper. And I had shared my intentions with her, my former best
friend.

I didn’t confront them, but I stood in the hallway and surprised the
two slimeballs as they slithered out of the library. I didn’t say a
word, but they knew I knew it all about them. And I knew that I needed
a new best friend and a new gentleman to pluck my flower.

Mr. Ben Venutto would also be blacklisted by all the Flynn girls. No
one breaks one of our hearts and gets another sister in the sack. That
mutt would be limited to two-pussy girls for the rest of his miserable
life. Hmmppphhh.

 

Chapter Six – Grand Opening

Flynn girls look forward, not back, but as I turned and walked away
from the library and down the hall, I was crying. Not in front of
Erica and Ben, may they be inflicted with subdermal leeches. Oh no. I
wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. But I was sobbing audibly when I
turned the corner and bumped headlong into – Mr. Fagan.

What was he doing there? Well, of course he was a teacher and he was
doing after-school teacher stuff.

He was visibly concerned to see my distress.

"What’s the matter, Mary Ellen?" the nice man asked. "I hate to see
you crying."

Flynn girls’ tears turn men into globs of putty.

I didn’t say anything; I just sobbed harder and buried my wet face
into his chest.

We were standing by the door of his room, so we went in. He sat and
offered me a chair.

I chose his lap. 

Mr. Fagan held me closely and listened to my tale of teenage betrayal.
Being on a roll, I told him about the inadequate bathroom situation at
my house and the bossiness of my four older sisters. I really didn’t
have one other thing to complain about in my life, but he listened the
way a man is supposed to – with unquestioning sympathy and no
suggestions about how to resolve anything.

Which is the most powerful aphrodisiac we ladies have ever
encountered.

You hear that baloney about "it just happened" all the time. "I didn’t
mean to cheat on my wife with 61 women over 26 years. It just
happened." Or how about, "I didn’t mean to shoot my husband 73 times
with my Uzi, your honor. It just happened."

But what happened next with Mr. Fagan, just happened. Really.

I don’t even know who started it, but I found myself naked except for
my white socks, sitting on a naked Mr. Fagan’s lap stroking his big
cock and sticking my tongue down his throat. It just happened.

That wasn’t the way I wanted my fantasy to happen. Where were the
trade winds? And I didn’t even have my make-up or lingerie on. Not
even stockings. If I didn’t have my titties and my beautiful face, he
would have rejected me, I’ll bet.

Mr. Fagan seemed to be really accepting as I stroked his very nice big
boy. I was just about to tell him that I would suck his cock but
couldn’t have any s-e-x until after the term, when he stood me up,
turned me around and buried his face in my girlish bottom.

I screamed. Thank goodness no one was around. I was so embarrassed. I
hadn’t even bathed that morning and had made number two at lunchtime.
I didn’t think I was very clean back there. I was so embarrassed. And
hugely, erotically excited.

My big girl was red, stiff and throbbing as Mr. Fagan licked and
kissed and sucked out my world-class, but dirty, bottom. He was
incredible! And the feelings were driving me crazy with pleasure.

I squealed in girlish desperation as the wonderful man ate my pussy
with skill and wild abandon. I groaned that I was going to cum, but
all he did was keep eating, cover my cock with his manly hand, milk me
to a glorious cum, then lick his hand clean.

Wow!

It appeared that my schedule had been moved up a bit. Rules are made
to be broken, Mary Clare likes to say. And so are "cherries."

If we were caught, I had the perfect excuse. It just happened.

Mr. Fagan moved me over to his desk and had me grip it and bend over.
I was scared. His cock looked so big for my little pooper. But I was
wet and loose. Soaked in fact. And stiff as pure alcohol.

I whimpered in fear and lust, which excited my beau all the more. He
aimed his weapon and pushed slowly into what future generations of men
would describe as a holiday in heaven. And he landed there first.

It was so big and hot and hard. It hurt a little and I felt as if I
needed to poop really badly. But that passed. I was a woman! Or so I
thought. Growing up involves a lot more than fucking. But it felt like
something I wanted to do every day for the rest of my life. 

I seemed to be quite good at fucking. At least Mr. Fagan thought so.
My internal heat and little muscle movements, combined with my beauty,
innocence and the total illegality of the act, had the poor man
cumming too quickly for my liking or his. He was very nice, though,
turning me around and sucking my cock to two delicious ball-buster
orgasms. Then kissing me very sweetly.

We realized that it was after six and panicked briefly. But we got
ourselves together and he drove me home by dinnertime. It appeared
that no one was the wiser.

Appearances were wrong.

After we did the dishes that night, Mary Alice quietly said, "So you
got fucked today, did you?"

My face turned white. Was it that obvious?

Mary Alice smiled. "I’m the eldest, remember? And I’m not blind. It’s
written all over your face. And don’t worry. You’re not in trouble.
None of us made it to the end of seventh grade. Not even Mom."

My blood raced. "Does Mom know?"

Mary Alice hugged me and said, "She’s the one who pointed it out to
me. Now tell me. How was it? And, oh, yeah, who was it?"

I love being a Flynn girl.

 

Chapter Seven – Prom Night and the Wallflowers

In the next couple of weeks, I came to love my new, ahem, offerings I
had for the luckiest of Ohio’s males.

I didn’t enjoy sneaking around so Mr. Fagan could fuck me. But I did
enjoy the fucking. Mr. Fagan said I had a body made for love. He was
always telling me I was a perfect angel. I found a way to slip into
his apartment at least once a week and we always fucked for hours on
his king-sized bed. He said he bought that bed hoping that one day I
would be in it with him. Wasn’t that a nice thing to say? If it was a
lie, it was a very sweet one.

I was much more comfortable teasing and pleasing Mr. Fagan in my sexy
clothes and pretty lingerie, but he would have made love to me if I
had showed up dressed to play football. He would have kissed my
shoulderpads and massaged my cleats. The poor guy had it bad for me.

He and I both knew that we wouldn’t last long. At my age, such an
affair was instructional. So he was enjoying it while he could. And I
learned a lot from him.

He was a gentle but hungry lover. A little scared of exposure, but if
he knew he would be exposed if he had one more love session with me,
he would have taken that session.

A girl has to admire such devotion.

He also knew that I would be offering my sweet pussy to boys closer to
my age, including Rico Grazzi, a ninth-grader who lived five houses
west of us and had been "interested" in me since he was 12 and I was
ten. Rico’s devotion deserved a sweet reward and he and I shared some
lovely exchanges of bodily fluids.

Mom, I’m sure, had this all figured out. And if I had hooked up with
multiple felons or woman beaters, she would have pulled me away by the
ears. But, thank goodness, I had the Flynn sense in men and my sisters
kept an eye on things as well.

I was feeling pretty good about things until my annual night of envy
arrived. The senior prom at Saint Patrick’s High School.

Mom had another one of her silly rules about us actually being in high
school before we could go to the senior prom. 

That is so lame. I was only five years younger than the 34 seniors who
asked me to their prom and Mom made me turn them all down! Seniors had
been asking me to the prom since I was eleven.

And poor Mary Denise was only two weeks from being promoted to high
school and she couldn’t even go that year.

Arrrrrrrgggghh!

Mary Clare, of course, was strutting around, lording it up over us
younger girls, because she was now old enough to accept one of her 54
(she said) invitations. 

Hmmph. If that’s all the invitations I get when I’m Mary Clare’s age,
I’ll become a nun!

Mary Alice, Mary Beth and Mary Clare had all gotten beautiful dresses
and, yes, I’ll admit it, they all looked like princesses. Princesses
any heterosexual man on earth with a palpitating testicle would want
to fuck until they both passed out. 

They were, in fact, delicious! 

Mary Clare and Mary Alice and I are blondes, although we all get a
little help from Mr. Andre at his salon. Mary Beth is a heartbreaking
brunette and Mary Denise has dazzling red hair. We all have lots of
hair too. Mary Alice always said long hair looked best on a pillow and
I finally figured out what she meant by that about a year earlier. I
liked long hair because it was very feminine and I loved anything
girlie. I had it done in ringlets, which is another reason I needed
more bathroom time!

The three princesses’ hair was perfectly styled. Their prom dresses
accented their sexy curves. Their make-up made them beyond beautiful.

I hated to admit it, but my looking at them made my cock stiff and
drippy. My own sisters.

Anyway, poor Mary Denise and I had to admit to the three of them that
they looked beautiful. Mary Alice was so sweet sometimes. She took me
into the bathroom, reached under my skirt and into my panties and
racked me off to a beautiful cum. She kissed me and said, "We all get
that way sometimes looking at each other. It’s nothing to be ashamed
of. As you leave, please send Mary Denise in here."

She was a pretty good sister. For a bossy dictator.

I was so envious. They would be the queens of the prom. Every boy
would be ogling them and wishing he had a Flynn sister instead of his
date.

And I wouldn’t even be able to go for two more years!

Mary Denise left the bathroom, followed soon by Mary Alice. She seemed
a lot more mellow. Mary Alice had an excellent stroke.

At 6:30, three boys who were still reeling with joy at their selection
arrived at the house.

Daddy wouldn’t allow any of us to ride in cars with boys, so the boys
pitched in for a limo. 

The boys made obeisance to Mom and Daddy and we checked them out. I
was proud of my sisters. Those guys were not the best-looking,
studliest seniors in school. They were the nicest, sweetest and most
loving. We Flynns care about what counts.

But the boys were human and Mary Denise and I couldn’t resist wiggling
around the living room a little, teasing them with our pretty bottoms
and killer smiles. We were the appetizers.

They ignored us and popped to attention when the main courses arrived.
Mary Alice, Mary Beth and Mary Clare ignited the room.

Daddy’s pants were lumpy and his heart was full as he watched his
girls head off to a night of dancing and chaste fun. As far as Daddy
knew. Mom knew better.

So there we were. It was 7 o’clock on a Saturday night in May and the
only company I had was my wallflower sister and parents.

There was only one thing to do. Something almost as good as sex. I was
going to hog the bathroom. For hours.

I was going to draw a hot bath and lie in it for an hour. Wash and dry
my hair. Paint my toenails. Maybe even give myself an enema to be
really fresh for Rico Grazzi, who was meeting me in the park the next
day after Mass.

Oh the decadence of two complete hours in the bathroom.

Mary Denise saw I had a plan. I didn’t want her stealing the bathroom.
But she was sharp and figured me out.

"Unlimited bathroom time sounds great, Mary Ellen. Mind if I join
you?"

Now that presented interesting possibilities.

Mom and Daddy were watching some old Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie
on TV, so they hardly heard us when Mary Denise and I excused
ourselves. 

My sister and I saw each other naked all the time. We roomed together
for goodness sakes. And all of us Flynn girls enjoyed a "cuddle" with
each other now and then. We had massive libidos to match our pretty
cocks and boobies. So we needed to cum a lot. I mean a lot. The
attention we got from boys and men was wonderful, but we often needed
some "supplements." We would either bring ourselves to sweet
conclusions or get a little help from our sisters.

Nothing nasty, mind you. We certainly didn’t fuck each other, if
that’s what you’re thinking. And we didn’t suck each other’s cocks
either. Or eat each other’s pooties. 

We just cuddled and kissed and rubbed and stroked and all the cares of
the world seemed to disappear.

That night, I knew Mary Denise was having naughty thoughts and so was
I. We were so envious of all the adoration that would be heaped on our
sisters that night that we needed a cuddle to ease our girlish pride. 

Mary Denise and I went to our bedroom to get ready for our bath. Our
beds were pushed against opposite walls, Mary Denise’s to the right of
the door, mine to the left. It was a big bedroom, but not lavish. Mom
and Daddy didn’t believe in lavish. Lavish didn’t build character.

I was giggling a little shyly as I teased Mary Denise’s libido a bit.
I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and slid off my miniskirt. I loved being
in just my bra, garterbelt, heels and stockings. That seemed to
enflame every male I had ever met. And it was doing a pretty good job
on my sister that night. She ran the same game on me, stripping down
to her Kelly green panties and bra and black stockings. Mary Denise
didn’t just like green because it was patriotic for a Flynn. Green set
her red hair off stunningly. 

She was a dish, my sister, and we giggled to note how stiff our big
Flynn cocks had gotten from looking at each other’s ripe young bodies.

Mary Denise unhooked her bra and showed me her warm puppies. They were
spectacular! And so were mine. I couldn’t wait for the bath. I clacked
over to her in my big heels and kissed her, rubbing nipples and gooey
cockheads. Embracing and rubbing hands on exquisite bottoms. Licking
the insides of each other’s mouths. Deciding that if we couldn’t be
the belles of the prom ball, we would empty each other’s balls.

And that was what we did. We came hard before we even got undressed,
gooeying each other’s tummies up as we squealed like the little
sillies we were. Somehow we managed to draw a bath and get in it
together. 

We had a lovely cuddle in the tub and fondled each other lovingly as
we exchanged sweet kisses and sisterly love. Mary Denise and I, as
roommates and the two youngest, fought like alley cats some times. But
we loved each other deeply too. 

The Flynns were the only functional family I’ve ever met. 

 

Chapter Eight – Summer Fun

Prom really signaled the end of the school year, which was kind of
disappointing in some ways. It meant that we didn’t get to go
somewhere every day and get worshiped by a legion of boys.

It was kind of sad too, because all my sisters would now be in high
school and I would be soldiering on alone at Saint Immaculata’s. Oh,
well.

Since Mary Alice was a high school senior that summer, Daddy talked
one of his friends into giving her a job as a receptionist for his
firm. That was incredibly lucky for Mary Alice.

She wore her beautiful, femmy, summer clothes, showing lots of leg and
skin, with stockings and pumps some days and others just five-inch
stiletto sandals and painted toesies. Daddy even bought her a lot of
new clothes for work so she "wouldn’t look frumpy." As if that were
possible for a Flynn! Mary Alice of course had plenty of room for her
clothes in her palatial room that she hogged all to herself while her
poor Cinderella sisters had to elbow each other for space.

But what was really great for Mary Alice was the men she met at work.
Daddy had this big sign made up for Mary Alice’s desk that said, "Hi,
I’m Mary Alice Flynn, I’m only 17 and my father is a life member of
the National Rifle Association!" She was so embarrassed, but the sign
didn’t deter even one male. The threat of a prison term or bullet
wound seemed trivial compared to the reward of a date with Mary Alice.
And she had lots of dates. Visits to the broom closet. Rides home
after work. Long lunches with daddy’s friend who hired Mary Alice.
Shame on him! <Giggle> 

Mary Beth got her job back as a lifeguard at the town pool. She was a
great swimmer and the most athletic of us all. It was amazing how many
boys she had to rescue in a given summer. Her only complaint was that
she had to wear that darned lifeguard one-piece bathing suit and
didn’t get enough of her skin tanned. She tried to make up for it in
our backyard pool on her days off.

Did I mention that we had a pool? Daddy put one in when I was little.
I don’t think he wanted us going to public pools and having men look
at our half-naked bodies. Of course Daddy had to build a huge privacy
fence around the pool or it would have been the most popular show in
town. 

The day Daddy finished the fence, the man next door, who lived with
just his wife, had a contractor put two additional floors on his
house. His wife didn’t think it was a coincidence. She walked out on
him. But he didn’t seem to care. He spent the whole summer on the
fourth floor, behind a curtain, with his binoculars.

I guess spying on us was worth it. 

Mary Clare, Mary Denise and I were too young to have jobs, but Mom
kept us busy doing housework, laundry and cleaning, as part of her
campaign to keep us from "getting too full of ourselves.’

Daddy was nicer. He didn’t make us do any yard work. That wasn’t for
his princesses he said, which made Mom gag. Mom’s father used to make
her shovel a 50-foot driveway before she walked five miles to school
in the snow. Or so she said.

Besides not having to do the work, we had an added bonus. Daddy hired
a succession of hunky teenage boys to do the yard work for us. Daddy
couldn’t understand why they said they would work for only a dollar an
hour, but he thought that was admirable. That summer, Daddy hired two
neighborhood boys – Patrick and Kevin Mahoney. They were juniors at
the Catholic high school, very sweet and very cute. They seemed to
find a task that needed to be done every day that summer, but at their
hourly rate, Daddy didn’t complain.

I remember the first day of vacation that year was very hot. Mary
Denise and Mom went off to visit Grandma, so Mary Clare and I had the
pool to ourselves. Patrick and Kevin were trimming hedges or
something, so we had privacy. 

I put on my micro bikini and checked myself out in the mirror. I would
have to get changed before Daddy got home of he would have a fit. The
top barely covered the nipples of my very large boobs. My boobs were
beautiful! The bikini bottom was really just an electric blue
cache-sex pouch that covered my pink goodie package, with a thong in
back that covered my anus, but exposed my glorious globes. I was
getting all stiffied up just looking at myself, so I left my room.
Mary Clare was leaving her room at the same time and she looked HOTT!!
Her long, straight, white blonde hair was halfway down her creamy back
and her suit was even briefer than mine.

I couldn’t resist showing off just a tiny bit, so I stood on the front
porch and said to Kevin and Patrick, "We’ll be in the pool, boys. Help
yourselves to a cold drink or something." Then I couldn’t resist
saying, "And let me know if there’s anything else you need."

The boys were working with their shirts off and I could see their
nipples erect as they looked at me. Ah, the power of pussy.

I didn’t figure the boys would actually take me up on my offer that
day, because they would be around us all summer. I joined Mary Clare
at the pool.

I loved sunning myself. But I hated tan lines. I also hated burning. 

So the first thing I did was remove that top. It weighed about two
ounces, but it was blocking the sun. My wet-nosed puppies were free in
the open air. The sun felt wonderful on them, but I didn’t want
sunburned titties. How awful.

So I got out the sun tan lotion. There was no such thing as sun block
in those days, but the old stuff worked pretty well. I squirted some
in my right hand and rubbed it slowly on my left boob. It felt
wonderful. My bikini bottom was getting very full. I was thinking
about being very naughty and taking it off when I saw Mary Clare
considering me with a stare filled with erotic need. 

"May I help you with that?" my grammatically correct and
large-chested, large-cocked sister inquired.

"That would be peachy," I said. And I giggled.

Mary Clare slowly, erotically applied lotion to every square
millimeter of my body. Including what was under my bikini bottom,
which had miraculously disappeared and was hiding in the same place
Mary Clare’s top and bottom were.

So there we were, two naked, writhing Flynns, covered with slippery
lotion, panting with desire, stiff-cocked and dripping with spermy
goo. And wouldn’t you know, that the boys picked that very moment to
venture back to the pool to ask us where the kitchen, which they had
just walked through, was?

It was the luck of the Irish.

For the boys and us.

Patrick and Kevin knew that their golden moment had arrived when Mary
Clare and I separated and smiled at them. I stayed put, on my back on
the lounger. Mary Clare ran, didn’t walk, to a nearby lounger and
"spread herself out."

They looked at each other, then at us. Patrick moved first, toward me.
I took that as meaning that I was more desirable than Mary Clare,
which I knew anyway, but was happy that it was reinforced.

Kevin ran to Mary Clare. I mean ran. I’m sure that was a boost for her
ego, but I was still the first selected.

Anyway, I was already naked and slick, and Patrick had his shirt off.
I suggested that he remove his shorts and shoes and rub up against me
a bit. He did. Oh my, he did. 

It was the first time I had been having sex while other people were
having sex nearby. I mean Kevin and Mary Clare were in a deep clinch
as Patrick rubbed his excellent body against mine. I loved the feel of
cock to cock, and apparently he did too, because he rubbed my big girl
against his big boy and mixed our flowing juices. The poor lad was
overcome when he kissed me and he blew his sticky goo very quickly. He
was really embarrassed, but I kissed him and told him it was all
right. I stroked him to another erection, then turned away from him,
lying on my left side. For a moment, he thought I was rejecting him.
Then I groaned, "I need lotion inside me too."

The lad quickly added two and two, grabbed the lotion bottle and with
two loving fingers, opened me up for both our pleasures.

Mmmmm. It was so naughty. About to be fucked in broad daylight.
Outside. In my own yard. With my sister and the fourth-floor neighbor
watching. What if I were caught? "It just happened, Daddy" was one
defense. Or, "<Sniffle> I didn’t want to, Daddy. He charmed me and
seduced me." Or, "The devil made me do it, Daddy."

The worst that would happen would be Daddy spanking me. Hard. Bare
bottom. On his lap. Masterfully. With his thing all hard. My thing
rubbing against his leg on each spanking stroke.

Back to reality, Patrick paused, his nice cock at my anus, to ask,
"OK?"

Polite boy. "Yes please," I said. "Fill ‘er up!"

And he did. It was wonderful. The boy was grateful and erotically
generous. He kissed my neck, caressed my nipples and skinned my cock
the whole time as he fucked my sweet pussy. Since he had just come
once, that was 30 glorious minutes and two teeth-rattling cums for me.

We were drenched with sweat and cum and suntan lotion, so we jumped
naked into the pool, joining Mary Clare and Kevin, who had finished
moments before we did.

We goofed around like the kids we were, then Mary Clare and I put our
suits back on, kissed the boys goodbye and sent them home.

I think we forgot to give them the money Mom left to pay them. Oh
well.

We saw those nice boys a lot that wonderful summer.

 

I’ve had a great life. I’m proud and happy to be an Irish girl and a
Flynn. And I’m only 28 in 2002. So much has happened and it’s all been
wonderful.

I would tell you more about us, but I know you readers don’t like long
stories. If you want to hear more about my life, drop me a line at
gingerfred99@yahoo.com. Or I’ll just keep my stories about the Flynns
to myself.

Wouldn’t you like to know more about us?

 

 

 

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