common people, if the formatting has gone to hell in the transition, my apologies ...


July 1st.

Molly Malone 's Irish pub, Helsinki.

I was there with someone I had met on msn - we were ( are ) both in our ( then early ) 40s. We met at 5p.m. on Dubliner 's terrace in Kaivopiha after having been chatting for a few weeks on the 'net. Although sex had n't been mentioned during our conversations it felt like both of us knew exactly what we wanted without even saying it.

By the time the lot started its terminal set at about 1a.m. we were trying to swallow up one another 's tongues, only stopping to come up for air and a drink from metre to time, and our men were wandering on and under clothing. Like I said, we both knew what we wanted.

A couple of time of day earlier in the evening, when we 'd moved from the terace to mollie 's I 'd been standing at the bar to get a crapulence when a grouping of youngsters, a few boys and little girl, obviously out for a estimable metre, came in. One of the little girl was wearing a pair of underwear over her jeans, and was drapped in a immense flag. If I say, `` Red and Patrick White + Maple Leaf '', I think you 'll get the mind ( check the date again ... ).

The radical had to impress apart to let me move away from the bar, and I smiled at Supergirl ( did she wear upon hers outside as well, or was that just Superman ? ? ? ) and said `` You missed the subject Anthem - you 'll have to babble it at the end of the Night, now ''. She laughed and said `` No trouble - if you 'll get on stage with me ! ''. I said of course I would, and complimented her on her underwear.

That was it. A bit of banter. solid food for the ego of a 40-something man that a young girl will still flirt back. Forgotten. I had more mature fish to fry.

As the band finished, and the igniter came up, my date disappeared. I assumed she 'd gone to the loo, so I was just hanging around near our table when I realised Supergirl was standing following to me. She said `` fountainhead, come on then, we have an anthem to sing ''. There was no way on ground I was getting up on the stage, and I said it was already July 2nd, so it was too late, and I turned to the stage to point out that the isthmus was packing away when ...

Oh, the matter we do.

On stage, hanging all over one of the band phallus like some silly groupie, was my date. Nothing had been said, but I thought it was pretty often a done deal as to what was going to occur at the end of the Night. Seems I 'd been mistaken. Fuck it.

I 'd been drinking fairly solidly for almost eight hour. Dutch courage is a terrific thing, sometimes.

I turned to Supergirl and said, `` I hope you wo n't be offended, but when I said I liked your undewear earlier, what I really wanted to say was, `` I like what 's in your underclothing ''. She looked at me all askanse - you know the `` oh, really ? ? '' look - and said, `` yeah, right on, of grade you did ''.

I said to her, `` Yes, really I did. For roll in the hay 's'saki, you 're a gorgeous, young woman, who laughed at my joke, of course I wanted to - but I was still too a great deal of a gentleman at that point, the beer had n't taken hold. And besides, a pretty 20 year old hardly wants soul old enough to be her dad hitting on her ''.

She looked at the degree, and back at me, and moved in conclusion. Touching close. `` I thought you were too busy to look at a nienteen year old girl like me - and I think older men are fucking hot '', she said, looking over my shoulder. It was obvious what she meant - she 'd seen the tongue wrestle going on. I figured my particular date was no more, I figured why the fuck not, so I put my hand up to the back of her headway and moved my boldness toward hers. She leaned in and started kissing me.

It was drink-fuelled lust, pure and simpleton. She was a much much expert visage than my escort, and my body responded in appropriate fashion very quickly. She was leaning against me, so could feel it, no interrogation. She put one of her hands down between our dead body and embrace my cock through my denim. I put one of my men on her tit and mauled it. She was moaning through the kiss, my pecker was so hard it hurt, and my appointment was forgotten.

She pulled her handwriting away from me, put both mitt to her berm, and pulled the flag around us. Our speed bodies, from the neck down, were shrouded in silk and completely hidden from the host in the bar. Who were probably too booze to care anyway.

She put her hands back between us but this time did n't snaffle me thorugh my jeans. Looking me straight in the eye she untie my belt, pulled the fly buttons open in one Yankee, stuck her hand into my boxer, and wrapped her fingers around my shaft. She leaned into me, our foreheads together and she said, moaned, `` Oh fuck I want this inside me tonight '', and started kissing me again. Fuck, she kissed incredibly. I thought it only fair to turn back the party favour, so I unzipped her jeans, and slither my mitt into her ( proper ) underclothes. When my digit found her slit, she was hot, and wet.

We spent no more than a minute, mutually stroking and fingering and kissing - it was incredible. She was working my cock with her hand as if her life story depended on it, and I was fingerbreadth fucking her soaking wet cunt with three fingers. And she was the one who came first. She started to `` MMMMMMMM MMMMMMMM, MMMMMM '' through our kiss, and bucked her hips against my hand.

When she stopped kissing me, started jerking against my hand, and bit my lip, moaning `` UUNNNNHHHHHH '' into my mouth, I lost it too. She bit me so fucking heavily my lip bled. But it was more than worth it. I came hard, fucking her through her climax as she wanked me through mine.

She pulled back from the raciness as our orgasms subsided, smiled beautifully up into my face, milked me dry with her hired hand, and moved back ever so slightly from my manus, so I slowly unsay my fingerbreadth from her pussy. We kissed, gently, smiled at each other, and re-fastened each other 's blue jean. She pulled the flag closer to us and I could sense her wiping her hands on the stuff. I was n't going to waste what I had, so I pulled my hired man out of our shroud and licked my fingers, one at a metre. She tasted superb, and I knew I was going to spend a lot of metre that night getting to a greater extent of the same.

When she was suitably composed, she unwrapped us, kissed me again, said, `` see you soon '', and headed off in the world-wide direction of her friends.

I nipped into the Ghent, took a wetting, and headed back to my table.

To witness my day of the month waiting for me.

'' I thought you 'd fucked off with Bon Jovi '' was my comment. And `` piece of tail, this could call on awkward '' is all I could intend. `` Yes, he offered, but I know what I want tonight. If you want to go with girl Canada, I can still go back and find him, but I want to go dwelling house with you ''.

We only met twice after that evening, and what went on between the minor and I was never discussed, so I do n't know what she saw, but now here I was with a HUGE dilemna. On the one hand I had a nineteen year old sousing wet and dying to be fucked, but she was a tourist, it would be a one-off. I liked my date. We had spent more than eight hours talking and we hit it off brilliantly. If I said I was going with the girl, I might blow my hazard there. While I was mulling this over in my drink-addled brain, my date came over and started to kiss me again. Just as my new admirer came back.

She just smiled, said `` oh well, it would hold been fun, thank you anyway '', turned and wandered off.

I went home with the date. And we spent the next six minute fucking each other senseless.

But that 's another tale ...