Let's Talk About Sex

It's quite popular in Keighley, too. Maybe our local lads were holed up in an adjoining trench.

Enough of the latest digression, let's get back to the yarn.

Chapter Five

After the distillery tour we were more in the mood for alcohol than sightseeing. Consequently we went into a pub just down the road. Although it was not . . . as far as I'm aware . . . in any way a gay bar we were approached by a spectacular-looking woman almost as soon as we sat down with our pints.

'Shinny,' she gushed, 'how delightful to see you.'

"Shinny" seemed perplexed by the recognition. While she frowned and thought about it I took stock of the woman. Around my height, she had jet-black hair and modelled her wardrobe on the same colour. In fact she modelled her make-up on the same colour, too. Outrageously punkish as the theme was, it suited her down to the ground.

She was wearing a low-cut T-shirt that revealed rather large breasts, more or less restrained by a lacy black bra. She was also wearing skin-tight black leggings that revealed shapely legs and an ass to die for. Chalk-white "blusher" and lots of kohl and charcoal lippy completed the image.

It's easy to suggest she was a throwback to the 1970s, but something about her was here and now.

In all honesty I wished she was happening to me here and now. That was instinctive, of course. There I was, out with Sinead, I shouldn't be sparing anyone else a passing glance . . .

But it was impossible not to.

Not when the diversion looked like Lisbeth Salander . . . except taller and maybe less malign.

'I'm sorry,' Sinead ventured after looking my way, finding no help at all, 'but do I know you?'

'It's me,' the spectacular vision said, evidently delighted, 'Cathy from Our Lady of Victories, then Holy Family.'

Sinead had a closer look at her. 'Cathy McGuire?' she ventured.

'For sure I am, one and the same.'

'Feck me, girl, I'm so sorry. I should have known. But you've changed. And didn't you leave school as soon as you could?'

'You bet I did,'

'It must have been half a lifetime since I last set eyes on you.'

That passing comment made me ponder a little. Sinead was only a few years older than me but, if her old friend had left school at sixteen, it really would be as good as half her lifetime ago.

Omigod, didn't time fly! It only seemed like a blink since I'd been sitting my A-levels. Another three or four blinks and I'd be ready for retirement!!

'I know, I know,' Cathy gushed back at Sinead. 'Our paths haven't crossed since, and all that. Except in a way, they have.'

Sinead frowned again.

'Aileen told me you'd found yourself at last,' Cathy amplified. 'And thank God for that.'

'You keep in touch with Aileen?'

'We were out Saturday night. It's a regular thing for us. And she told me all about Friday.' She turned to me and grinned, super-sexier than ever. 'And you must be Davina. Thank you for showing Shinny the error of her old ways.'

'I prefer being called Dave,' I said instinctively. 'And I don't need thanks, the pleasure was all mine.'

'Yeah, I can see it was.'

Cathy held out her hand; ever the conformist (as if I was anything such in any way!), I duly shook. She returned my shake then raised my hand so she could kiss the back of it, fleetingly, but with meaning.

'Thanks anyhow,' she said. 'From what Ail told me, the Sisterhood will be forever indebted.'

'Exactly what did Ail tell you?' Sinead cut in, 'and when you say you were . . . out with her . . .'

'We've been feckin' each other for years,' Cathy said gleefully. 'It's a mutual convenience. We don't want commitment but our bodies work well together, so why not? As for what she tells me . . . Well, if I believe her, she tells me everything. And she certainly told me lots about Friday. If there's more, I'd do anything to find out.'

'Feck,' said Sinead.

'Yes, feck definitely came into the equation. Multiply, you might say . . . and why not?'

'Why not indeed,' I agreed, patting Shinny on her knee and ogling her old schoolmate's tits.

*****

Cathy left us after another pint each . . . pints she insisted on buying herself, demonstrating to me the sheer generosity of the Irish. Or perhaps she reckoned that was the sure way for her to get a hold of Sinead's mobile number.

And get this; she asked for mine as well.

Obliging, I warned her I would soon be away home to tight-fisted Yorkshire and a return to Eire would not exactly be imminent.

'Talking can cross oceans, can't it?' she replied cockily. 'And I can easily work out the time difference between Bradford and here.'

'Please,' I winced, 'don't class me as Bradford; Keighley or Bingley, but never Bradford. And I thought the times were the same.'

'There are minor variations and don't hedge.'

'Never suggest I'm from Bradford again and I promise I won't.'

'I won't pursue the Bradford angle,' she said with a laugh. 'Is nine in the evening good for you?' Or would you prefer it after ten, GMT?'

*****

Back in our original twosome, Sinead shuddered theatrically. 'My street cred is trashed,' she said.

I laughed. 'Ask me and your street cred is established for all time. Out of the closet for one week and already involved in threes and fours. Ask me and Aileen is painting you as the biggest heroine that the Sisterhood has ever had. And if you need proof, Cathy is Exhibit A.'

Then, seeing a shadow flit across Shinny's brow, I intuitively went on.

'Are threes and fours totally new to you?'

She visibly gulped before responding.

'Yes and no,' she confessed, encouragingly.

'So please enlarge.'

Sinead dithered a while before expanding. 'A very good friend was involved with a regular boyfriend,' she said 'The four of us used to go out on double dates . . . Me and my friend, and the two guys . . .

'And . . .'

'One night we had been out clubbing. We went back to mine and my supposed boyfriend told me that they wanted to swap. That wasn't entirely unusual. Us going back together, I mean.'

'And then? I pressed.

'My friend was very persuasive. And I was pissed. The next thing I knew I was being well screwed by a guy I hardly knew.'

'Are you crying rape?'

'No,' she said after a pause. 'I was stupid but I wasn't raped. Too drunk, know what I mean?'

'Don't do yourself down, girl.'

'I'm not. Believe me, I'm not.'

'I did something similar,' I admitted. 'There was this regulation couple that came in my local. Kat got to feck the guy; I got to feck the stupendous blonde.'

'Surprise, surprise,' said Sinead.

'I fell lucky,' I protested, 'and she really was stupendous. One of the best I've ever had.'

'Well, if you say so . . .'

Her eyebrows scrunched. 'Was this a one-off?'

No, it happened regularly.'

'And did you ever . . .'

'Did I ever feck the guy? No, I certainly did not.'

'You're solid in your principles, then?'

I dithered a while before speaking again.

'You class yourself as straight, right?' I challenged.

'No, I don't class myself as anything at all. Although just lately I'm definitely veering in a girly direction; as if you haven't noticed.'

I thought of Cathy's relatively pale tits as I studied Sinead's deeply tanned chest. 'Cathy fancies you,' I said out loud.

'She fancies you as well,' Sinead replied smartly. 'As no doubt you will discover one night next week.'

'Talking sex is all well and good,' I insisted, 'but having it is infinitely better.'

'Hear, hear. Finish your drink and let's get back to mine.'

'It's not eight o'clock yet.'

'Feck statistics and protocol, it feels like bedtime to me.'

Two seconds of careful consideration and I nodded. It suddenly felt like bedtime to me as well.

Chapter Six

After a somewhat adventurous and very enjoyable night we passed Thursday by visiting several more cathedrals and calling in at the Guinness Storehouse. Now I'm not TripAdvisor but I know a good deal when I see one. So too did Arthur Guinness. He only signed a 9,000 year lease on the site. That must have given him the best part of 8,700 years still to go . . .

Clever, or what!

Both of us fascinated by the history of brewing, fortified with food and pints of the black stuff, realizing we'd outstayed our welcome, we retreated to a nearby pub. Well, maybe it wasn't so nearby but it was near enough for us.

Yes, we were back in the Front Lounge . . . or Flounge . . . a celebrated gay bar.

Or not so celebrated on a late midweek afternoon. When we arrived there were maybe a dozen other drinkers scattered about, mixed-sex, none of them in any apparent way amorous.

'No sign of Cathy,' I observed as Sinead delivered two pints of you-know-what to our table.

'I never expected her,to be here,' Shinny replied, depositing our brimming glasses and taking a pew. 'I suppose she'll be a work, wherever that is. And I still can't believe I didn't recognize her, massively changed or not.'

'What was she like at school,' I wondered.

'Quiet and withdrawn . . . and showing no interest in Aileen at all. And she didn't have the tattoos and piercings and what have you. Trust me, she was a different person altogether.'

'What are you going to do when she calls you?'

'She probably won't.'

'Feck off, Shinny, she'll be calling you, sure as eggs are eggs. So what will you do?'

Sinead shrugged. 'I dunno,' she confessed. 'She's a bit . . . Well . . . a bit masculine.'

'I'm a bit masculine,' I countered, 'and you soon jumped into bed with me.'

She laughed. 'You look masculine on the surface but not in a threatening way. And deep down you're as tender as heck.'

'Maybe Cathy is as well,' I said, trying to hide exactly how flattered I was at Shinny's opinion of me.

Me, as tender as heck!!

'I'm still unsure,' Sinead went on, 'I honestly never considered girl-in-girl until I started talking to you. It took a while for me to progress.'

'Too bloody true it did,' I said with feeling. 'I had to use very trick in the book.'

'You were very persistent.'

'And thank God it worked out. A year or more and I thought you'd never come across.'

'It was more like two years. And coming across was a big deal for me.'

That rang a bell.

'I know it was,' I conceded, 'and it was a big thing for me. I wanted you from the very first moment that I heard your lovely, lilting accent.'

'Sound bites aren't everything.'

'Sinead my darling, it wasn't sound bites. We conversed, didn't we?'

'Yes, I suppose we did, albeit over a period of time.'

'And we connected, didn't we?'

Her serious expression cracked into a smile. 'Didn't we just!'

'So here we are,' I concluded, 'me living life as per always and you converted. And forget that crap I gave Cathy about not coming back to Dublin anytime soon. I'll be back next month . . . assuming you will put me up for a long weekend.'

'I'll put my cousin on standby. There will be a flight available whenever, with no notice at all, and with no charge at all, if I've anything to do with it.'

'Then expect several long weekends.'

'What does a long weekend mean, exactly?'

'It means Friday afternoon up until Monday morning, with sleep not an option.'

'Sounds like my sort of a deal.'

'Are you up for it?'

'Am I up for several long weekends?'

'Yes, that's the question.'

Still smiling, Sinead assured me her door would always be open for me.

I kissed her on the lips.

She responded big-time.

Someone in the background, a million miles away, cheered ironically.

As if we cared!

*****

That night I tied Sinead to her bed, using the same dark blue scarves she'd used to secure me. And didn't I give her a seeing-to that will be remembered for all time!

Even without my inherent exaggeration, I was superb that evening. In fact I was superb for six whole hours, determined to beat the mere five hours she'd spent fecking me in similar circumstances. Yes, I managed six revolutions of the clock-face, every last second memorable and treasured by both of us.

(We talk about it even now, usually in hushed tones, wide-eyed and excessively self-lubricating as we mutually masturbate.)

Knots passing my inspection I paused and studied my lovely Irish lover. Naked and defenceless, she was a sight absolutely anyone would have appreciated.

That tan and those tits! Never mind "anyone", everyone seeing that particular sight would have been inspired; literally everyone on planet earth.

Dismiss political correctness; some girls have it beyond all reason.

Defence rests.

Being no real exception to the norm I drooled in anticipation as I debated whether or not to blindfold her with another scarf (one of her silky black pair). Balancing the excitement of the unknown with the wish to see the thrill in her so-sexy peepers was a close-run thing. In the end I decided not to bother, telling myself I could always change the rules later . . . much later . . . and only then if I felt like it.

For a long time I feasted on those glorious, stupendous breasts, hands, fingers, lips and tongue busy here, there and everywhere. Then, unable to contain the need any longer, I went down on her.

And jinkies! Familiar as the taste had become, my head instantly swirled. How scrumptious!

How truly, truly scrumptious!!

The best six hours of my life flew by with me sticking to the basics but performing them with skill (so I sincerely hope) and great gusto (an area where I'm sure I had no shortcomings whatsoever).

What's that? You want more info?

Okay, here goes . . .

In truth I relied on that gusto I mentioned, allied with lots of repetition. More accurately I kept switching from simple pussy munching to straightforward strapless fucking, with lots of fingering thrown in along the way. As a combination it worked well, if I say so myself. I got to pleasure Sinead again and again and then drink the evidence; She got to bump and bounce on her mattress, sighing, wailing, groaning and moaning as she did her best to avoid dislocating her shoulder blades.

Additionally she got to frequently wrap her legs around me. Untethered, I permitted her legs to do just anything they liked, giving them free reign until I was ready for my next tipple. Then I'd release myself and reposition her widespread.

Well I had to, didn't I? Wrapped tight and widespread go with my three main activities, no?

Not simultaneously, obviously, but as I eagerly flitted from one treat to another.

Ultimately . . . after an endless torrent of approval and encouragement . . . Sinead called a timeout.

Already aware I'd hit my six hour target, I rolled off her and, after having another playful go at her tits, I unfastened her bonds.

'I think I've pulled every muscle in my body,' she said cheerfully. 'And nobody has ever had pins and needles like I've got right now.'

Then, chuckling, she asked: 'Can I have a go at you? Or do I have to wait until morning?'

Here's a confession. During my mouth's most recent visit to her groin I'd yawned . . . through fatigue, I hasten to add; boredom did not enter any of my equations.

(As if anyone could ever find boredom within Sinead's heavenly well!)

I'd disguised it as best I could, pretending I was changing from external to internal, straining the roots of my tongue as I pushed in as deep as humanly possible . . . demonstrating renewed enthusiasm . . .

Yet even so, I wasn't the world's greatest actor.

Or should I say, actress . . .

'It's technically morning already,' I replied, stifling another yawn and blinking in surprise. 'But perhaps we could wait until . . . I dunno; seven o'clock, maybe? Or even eight?'

'Tell me we're still on for several long weekends and I'll wait.'

'We're still on.'

Moving on top, she hugged me, kissed my snub of a nose and, after burying her face in my sorry lack of tits, almost immediately fell asleep.

Personally I couldn't extol her any higher. What a soulmate was she!

And how rapidly had she reacted! A fortnight ago she was reserved. Now she was into . . .

Well nowadays she was up-to-date with everything.

Yes, nowadays she was up for simply everything . . . that splendid punk most definitely included.

In my imagination I could still sweetly taste Sinead. Maybe it wasn't my imagination; perhaps my snub of a nose was clogged with the essential scent of her.

Maybe we weren't simply "us" anymore.'

Perhaps I was even luckier than I'd ever wished to be.

As relaxed as I'd ever been, I snuggled ever closer and joined Sinead in the land of dreams.

And all in the world was well.