Posted 20030725 to alt.sex.stories.moderated. 
After St. Paddy's Day (MF,rape)
by Philip Harris

I got a phone call from Kelly, asking me to come down to 
Boston and play a St. Paddy's Day gig with him at an 
Irish bar.

"I can hear all the drunken singing I want to up here," I 
told him.  "Even a quiet Vermont college town has Irish 
pubs on St. Paddy's Day."

"But there's going to be a real Irish singer," Kelly said.  
"She's a college friend of Catlin's (Kelly's daughter), and 
she's from Ireland and has sung real Irish tunes all her 
life.  You and her can reminisce about Dublin."

"None of the Boston drunks are going to want to hear real 
Irish songs," I told him, "They're only going to want us to 
play The Unicorn Song fifty times."

But I went down to Boston anyway.  The gig was even worse 
than I expected--the bar was even darker than a real Dublin 
pub.  

But the Irish girl, Megan, she was hot!  Like all good 
Irish lasses she showed miles of cleavage.  Now that's a 
sight I really miss from Dublin: the cum-catching open 
blouse-fronts of good Irish girls.

After the gig, Kelly, the two girls, and I went back to 
Kelly's house, to his basement, where at 1 o'clock in the 
morning we started playing some of the true Irish songs.  
Megan did have a good Irish voice.

Everybody was drunk except for Megan and me.  I was sober 
because I don't drink, and Megan was sober because she was 
used to Irish beer, which is much stronger than American 
beer.  Anyway, that's what she claimed.  She complained about 
American beer being weak.  I started getting her beers for her, 
and she stopped calling them weak.  After drinking about six 
more beers in two hours she was good and plastered.  Eventually 
she dropped off to sleep on the basement couch.

Catlin had gone upstairs to her bedroom at about 1:30 AM.  At 
3 AM Kelly decided to turn in.  He stumbled up his basement 
stairs slowly, not even telling me where I was supposed to 
sleep.

And there was Megan, passed out on the couch in the 
basement, her cleavage an inviting pillow.

I sat quietly for half an hour, watching Megan's slow breathing 
and listening for the house to quiet down.  I wanted to 
make sure everybody was soundly asleep.  I'd been planning 
this ever since I put the first shot of Jack Daniels into 
Megan's beer.  

It's tough being a college professor--all the hot young 
pussy around campus, all desperately wanting to be seeded.  
I should have stayed on the road, playing in touring bands, 
fucking the easy sluts who spread their legs in every town.  
But I'd decided upon an academic career and now those young 
legs were closed to me.

But Megan was a college girl, and not from my college--so 
there'd be no conflict about this.

I put my two hands on her breasts, right at the open part 
of her blouse.  Oh that felt good!  I squeezed them.  They 
were very full, and not too firm.  I like breasts that have 
a "sloppy" feel.  When the bra comes off I like them to 
sag.  When a girl lies down I like it if her breasts fall 
in separate directions.  Megan's would be like that, I 
thought.

I reached inside her bra, feeling downward with my 
fingertips until I touched her nipples.  Oh, yeah!  Plenty 
of give.  Big breasts in big cups, but with room for 
groping.  Oh the darling--her areolas were different sizes.  
I could feel that.  The right one was bigger than the left.  
God that's gorgeous!  I wanted to see them.  I rolled her 
over on the couch.  

She rolled heavily, dead drunk.  Her blouse unbuttoned down 
the back, and soon I laid her back bare and unhooked her 
bra.  Nice, white, Irish skin.  She was passed out so drunk 
that I felt like an undertaker stripping a dead body as I 
pealed her blouse and bra the rest of the way off.  Soon I 
had her lying on her back again, bare-topped, snoring heavily.  
Man what a sight!

She was plump, which I liked very much.  Her breasts did 
just as I wanted, they flopped and sagged and filled my 
hands and filled my mouth.  My boner was so hard it hurt 
within my pants, so I had to strip my pants off, and then 
for ten nice minutes I tit-humped her lovely, jiggly, 
college-girl breasts.  I almost came, but I was painfully 
saving that.

Taking off her sneakers, jeans and panties took quite a 
while.  Early morning daylight was peeking through the 
basement window by the time I put one of her feet on the 
floor and draped her other leg on the back of the couch.

I licked my fingers and began frigging her pussy.  No 
reaction.  It was closed like a clam shell, and she was 
drunk beyond feeling.  I rubbed harder and faster. 

"You've got a pussy like leather, girl, if you're not 
feeling this," I said.  "I'll bet you masturbate for hours."
I was giving her a vigorous pussy rubbing, and she was just 
snoring heavily.

I frigged right on her clit, spreading her pussy lips open with 
my other hand to get through her meatiness and rub right on her 
sensitive Irish girlhood.  Eventually she started showing wet, 
and then she really started to juice.  I put two, then three 
fingers into her pussy and finger-fucked her like mad.  She was 
gasp-snoring in her sleep now, having one hell of a wet dream.  

"Who are you dreaming of fucking?" I asked her sleeping 
smile, "Maybe one of your nice college professors?"  I was 
twisting my fingers in her pussy.  She was hard to make 
cum; I was beginning to think I'd have to fist her.  When 
she finally came, she gushed like a fountain, grunting a 
little sex moan that was half like a snore.

"That's a good Irish girl," I said, very pleased that I'd 
finally gotten a climax from her.  Her whole breathing changed,
and I could tell that in her drunken sleep she was very happy.

Now I got my cock into her easily; fucking this little Irish 
college bitch was pure pleasure.  She didn't fuck back, but 
I enjoyed her thoroughly just the same.  I came a huge amount
inside her, and she took it all without leaking.  She was a
girl made for carrying cum.  After I came, I stayed lying on top 
of her for a while just because I wanted to feel her nice breasts 
against my chest.  I was very tired by this time, and nearly 
fell asleep in that position.

Now, how to get her dressed again?  It was getting toward 6 AM.  
Her panties would go on easily, but there was no way I could get 
her jeans back on her.  I was just going to have to bluff this 
one out.  I climbed onto the couch beside her, pulling her body 
around mine as if we'd made consensual love.

We both awoke about the same time later that afternoon.  
She looked at me very bleary-eyed; she was still half 
drunk.

"Fuck!" she said, her speech was slurred and slow.

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," I answered as 
casually as I could.

"My boyfriend's gonna fuckin' kill me," she said.

I helped myself to a playful squeeze of one of her breasts, 
teasing at her nipple, and then comparing her areola sizes
between my thumbs and forefingers.  "I don't hear anybody 
else up yet," I said, "your boyfriend doesn't have to know."

We said few other words to one another during the rest of 
the day, and soon afterward I packed up my stuff and drove 
back to Vermont.

"Catlin said that you made a big hit with that Irish 
singer," Kelly wrote me in an email later.  "She said she 
came downstairs in the morning and you and the singer were 
sleeping off a real good time together."

"Yeah, well, I guess she just liked me," I wrote back.

-end-

More stories by Philip Harris can be found on http://www.asstr.org/~pharris/.
