by Simon Bourke
“Ah, they have a big mortgage to pay off. It’ll take them years.”
“Still, though.”
“What do you want to drink?” she asked, opening the fridge.
It was an Aladdin’s cave of alcohol, full to the brim with something to suit all needs.
“Jesus,” he repeated, eyeing the array of cans and bottles. “I don’t suppose they have spirits as well, do they?”
“Course they do,” she answered, crossing the kitchen and opening up a press. “That enough for you?”
More booze: whiskey, wine, vodka, schnapps and other stuff he didn’t recognise.
“Oh, they have schnapps,” he said matter-of-factly. It was a drink he still enjoyed, despite its unpleasant associations.
“Want some?”
“Yeah, go on.”
She poured him a glassful and opened a bottle of wine for herself.
“Now,” she said. “Why don’t we take these drinks somewhere more comfortable?”
He followed her up the stairs, taking in the view as he went. They passed a kid’s bedroom and a bathroom bigger than his entire house before reaching the guest bedroom. It had an en-suite, which was a relief; he didn’t want to be walking around an unfamiliar house in a state of semi-undress.
“Look what I have,” Danielle grinned, holding out her hand.
It was a pill; a Speckled Dove.
“Halfies?” he enquired hopefully.
“Of course,” she said, biting it in half and handing him his share.
He wolfed it down with the schnapps and looked at her expectantly. What next? Was it too early to strip off?
“Let me just freshen up and I’ll be with you in a sec,” she said and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with the schnapps and his thoughts.
Those thoughts immediately turned to his groin and whether the potency of these pills would prevent him from performing. Pegs had told him stories of struggling to get it up while on Ecstasy, how he’d wept in frustration as his flaccid member stubbornly refused to co-operate despite the presence of a ready and willing partner. Seán prayed that he wouldn’t suffer the same fate.
He peered down into his boxer shorts. It didn’t look promising. His penis had never been smaller; it rested upon his testicles like a tiny worm bedding down for the night, curling up into itself for extra warmth. Well, it had better wake up soon; this was no time for sleeping. She was in there now, freshening herself up for him and his penis. He was about to get full, unfettered access to that arse and those legs, but he couldn’t focus. He knew what was in there and what it meant, but his penis wasn’t listening; it just carried on snoozing away, glad of a night off. He put his hand down his boxers and played with it a bit, attempting to rouse it into life; it barely stirred, however, flopping about limply like a fish out of water. His only hope now was that the sight of Danielle in her naked glory would spur the fucker into life.
At least he had a condom; he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. A few months back, after a prolonged drinking session in Forde’s, he’d found himself walking a girl home; someone he’d fancied for months. He’d hoped for a kiss and maybe a sneaky feel before she disappeared into her parents’ house, but to his amazement he was invited in and led upstairs. Everything was going fantastically and he was just about to seal the deal when she stopped him in his tracks.
“Have you got – y’know?”
He didn’t know, so he ignored her and carried on with what he was doing.
She persisted.
“Have you got any protection?”
He’d had sex on three previous occasions with three different partners, and not one of the girls had been bothered about ‘protection’, but this one was, and she wasn’t letting him go an inch further without it. He cajoled and coerced, begged and beseeched, but the lady wasn’t for turning. In the end he’d sullenly accepted a hand-job and made his way home immediately after.
A valuable lesson had been learned, though, and from that night on he’d always carried a condom on his person. Because you never knew, did you? And when he pulled a girl at a festival up the country a few weeks later he merrily brought her back to the tent, safe in the knowledge that he was prepared for all outcomes. The next day he replaced the departed prophylactic with a fresh one. He was a modern man now, a carrier of contraception, a participant in safe sex.
Despite that, a condom wouldn’t be much use to him if he had nothing to put it on. He decided to strip down to his boxers and see if that helped. Perhaps it would send a message to his brain. Hey, we’re having sex here, would you tell your man below? As he undressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He didn’t look like a man about to have sex; he looked like a child. There was a tuft of hair on his chest and a thin, narrow strip from his bellybutton to his midriff, but those were the only signs of masculinity. He stood there looking at himself, at his thin, pale frame with its skinny legs and puny arms, and wondered whether he should turn off the light and hop into bed. Wasn’t it usually the woman who insisted that the lights were kept off? Leaning in close, he took a proper look at himself, at his face, at his eyes, with their huge dilated pupils. He stared at himself and told himself everything was going to be all right. Danielle was going to emerge from that bathroom and they were going to have a night of amazing sex, and that’s all there was to it.
“What are ya doing, ya mad yoke?”
He hadn’t heard her come out.
“Ah, just looking at meself,” he said, distracted by what stood before him.
She’d freshened up, all right. She hadn’t been wearing much to begin with, but now her sole item of clothing was the little red thong he’d been clawing at all night.
“Well, you can look at me now,” she said, coming over and kissing him gently on the cheek.
He responded by nuzzling her breasts – breasts he had initially written off as insubstantial but was now quite taken with. They might have been small, but they were delightful in their own little way. She moaned with pleasure and began stroking his chest, slipping a hand inside his boxers as they moved towards the bed. He flinched. But as he looked downwards, following her hand as it moved toward his groin, he saw that somewhere along the line his penis had got the message. Maybe it had been the sight of her in that thong, or the feel of her breasts against his lips, but something had awoken it. It had never been so awake. He’d been foolish to think it would do anything else in these circumstances. As she gently massaged it it became harder still, jutting out from his child’s body like a proud soldier ready to go to war. She yanked down his boxers and began wanking him off with a dexterity and skill which reinforced his belief that her experience far outweighed his.
“Lie down,” he said, suddenly infused with confidence.
He’d read something in a men’s magazine the other day, something about letters of the alphabet while going down on a woman. He was going to put into action, right here and now. It would be impress the shit out of her. She did as she was told, arching her back so he could relieve her of her underwear. Bald. Completely shaved. Or waxed. Who knew? He’d never seen anything like it, not in the flesh. All he wanted to do was plunge right in, bury his head there, press his mouth up against it, smear her juices all over his face. He held off, however. He had to savour it; stuff like this didn’t happen every day of the week. Slowly placing his head between her legs, he positioned his lips over her labia. Moving his tongue to where he hoped her clit was located, he began ‘writing out’ the alphabet. He flicked the tip up and down, over and back, finishing each letter with an artistic flourish: A, B, C, D. He got a bit stuck with G and had to start again from scratch. But, judging by the groans of pleasure coming from up top, it seemed to be having the desired effect.
Growing in confidence he continued, imagining himself a modern-day Casanova, the Don Juan of Dooncurra. M was an absolute nightmare; he kept r
unning out of space but eventually he nailed it, and before long he’d made it all the way to Z. Somewhere around T she’d begun bucking her hips, forcing herself against him, and now her movements became more urgent and needy. Was she really about to reach orgasm as a result of his alphabetic skills? It appeared so. If he could pull this off, it would rank as one of the greatest achievements of his life. Having reached the end of the alphabet he was loth to start all over again, so he started spelling out words, just random stuff, anything to take his mind off the enormity of what was about to happen. He spelled out D-A-N-I-E-L-L-E and S-E-A-N M-C-L-O-U-G-H-L-I-N and still she bucked and moaned. His mouth was getting dry; he couldn’t keep this up much longer, but he daren’t stop now.
He decided to do a complete sentence, and if she hadn’t come by then maybe it wasn’t to be. On he went: T-H-E-S-E S-P-E-C-K-L-E-D D-O-V-E-S A-R-E-A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. The letter A seemed to be a particular favourite, and the proliferation of these at the end of his sentence sent her over the edge. The bucking became more forceful, the moans loader. She grabbed him by the head, clenching her thighs around his ears as he spelled out his sentence.
“Mmm. MMM. AAH, OOH, YEAH. FUCK, FUCK, FUCKIN YEAH. YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, FUCKIN HELL, YEAH, AAH, OOH, YEAH. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck yeah, yeah.”
He’d done it, he’d fucking done it! He’d made her come. He’d made a woman come with his tongue and the alphabet, of all things.
He lifted his head, a smug smile playing over his lips. She smiled back contentedly.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes I even surprise myself,” he said sincerely.
She took hold of his penis again. “I think it’s time we gave this fella what he wants, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said, reaching for his jeans, pulling out his wallet and plucking out the condom. He opened the packet and slid it on where it was supposed to go. A pro, that’s what he was.
“Let me get on top,” she said, pushing him back on the bed.
He was more than happy to accede to her wishes, and happier still when he saw that she meant on top with her back to him; reverse cowgirl style, with him as the bull. The view was bound to be incredible. He watched as she lowered herself onto him, shuddering with pleasure as he went up, and inside, her. She began slowly moving up and down, sliding along the length of his penis until it almost popped out and then driving it deep back inside. He grabbed, mauled and smacked her buttocks, kneading the cheeks with his hands, spreading them so he could take a look at her arsehole. He wondered if he should stick a thumb inside it. That’d be kinky, right? But you couldn’t just go around sticking thumbs in people’s arseholes without asking them first, so he left it. Removing his hands completely, he just enjoyed the show. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes in this situation; the sight of that arse, coupled with the velvety warmth of her pussy would have had him blowing his load after a couple of thrusts. The Ecstasy, though, was acting as a deterrent. In the same way he’d been unable to get an erection at will, he was now incapable of reaching orgasm. The lines of communication between his brain and penis no longer worked; she could have ridden him until flames erupted from his balls and still there’d be nothing. This, of course, was great; not only had he made her come with his magnificent feats of cunnilingus, he was now displaying the staying power of a stallion. He’d love to be a fly on the wall when she recounted their fun and games to her friends.
“Do me from behind,” she said, dismounting.
She moved to the edge of the bed and got on all fours, looking back at him impatiently. Seán wasted no time, bending his knees and guiding his throbbing cock inside her.
After pounding away for a few minutes she began to moan loudly again, backing into him and meeting every thrust with one of her own. How easy is this, he thought; get up on the stage, pull a stunner, quick snog, back to her mate’s and multiple orgasms all round. Not a bother.
“Harder,” she instructed. “Harder, Seán.”
He redoubled his efforts, really giving it his all, determined not to disappoint her. She began playing with herself as he assaulted her with increasing force, his balls smacking rhythmically against her, the sound spurring him on. And once more she came, with more ferocity this time. Instead of the dainty groans and moans that had accompanied her first orgasm there were screeches, feral grunts, guttural emissions and throaty, quite frightening, growls. It was all very unbecoming, he thought, and yet so very, very enchanting. He slowed down and then pulled out altogether, needing a break. These marathon sex sessions were hard work.
*
“Tell me about yourself, Seán.”
They lay on the bed, naked and drenched in sweat. He’d serviced her for another hour, until she’d complained of saddle-soreness and they’d called a halt to affairs.
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything,” she said. “Tell me about your family; your mam and dad, brothers and sisters, whatever.”
“I don’t really have a family.”
“What, are you an orphan or something?” she joked, then seeing his solemn expression, she panicked. “God, you’re not an orphan, are you?”
“No,” he smiled. “Not quite.”
“Phew, thank fuck for that. So what, then? Why don’t you have a family?”
“Well I have a mother and she’s great, I love her; but I also have a stepfather.”
His expression changed; his face clouded over. There was an edge to his words. Danielle, feeling like she’d said something she shouldn’t, laid her hand on his arm in concern. “I’m sorry, Seán. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
“No, no,” he said dismissively. “I was just thinking about how to phrase it, my relationship with him.”
“We can talk about something else if you like.”
“No, I’m happy to talk about this.”
“Okay, then, if you’re sure.”
She waited for him to continue, fearing the worst.
“He bullies me,” Seán said finally. “He always has, ever since I was a child.”
“Does he...” she paused. “Beat you up?”
“Nah, nothing like that; there’s never been any physical abuse.”
Danielle couldn’t understand how someone could be bullied without a finger being laid on them.
“I don’t get it, Seán,” she said. “What does he do?”
“He picks on me, verbally abuses me, I suppose. Constantly puts me down, belittles me, tells me I’m nothing, that I’m not wanted there with them.”
“With who? With your mam and him?”
“Yeah, and my brother. They’ve a child together.”
“And he makes you feel like you’re not a part of the family?”
“He doesn’t just make me feel like that; I’m not a part of the family.”
“But what about your mam? Doesn’t she stick up for you?”
“She doesn’t really know about it, to be honest. She obviously knows we don’t get on, but I don’t think she’s aware of the extent of it.”
“Well, tell her, Seán. Tell her!” Danielle urged, sitting up and looking at him earnestly.
“I’m not a rat,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “Anyway, I can fight my own battles.”
“But if he’s treating you like this, she needs to know.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, “but she chose to marry him and bring him into my life.”
She took his hand and held it tightly. He saw pity in her eyes; he didn’t like it.
“I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me, y’know.”
“I know that, Seán.”
“I just think it’s good to talk about stuff like this, get it out of your system.”
“I agree.”
“But there’s people much worse off than me. I
should be glad I have at least one parent who loves me.”
“Yes,” she said, holding his hand tighter. “And what about your real dad? Do you see him?”
“No. I don’t even know who he is.”
“Does your mother know who he is?”
Seán laughed suddenly. “I flippin’ hope so!”
She flushed with embarrassment, realising what she’d insinuated. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
But he didn’t seem to notice, and showed no sign of being offended by the suggestion that his mother had had so many lovers that she couldn’t tell which was his father.
“I’ve never asked her about him, and she’s never brought up the subject, so I suppose we’ve both kind of avoided the issue.”
“Do you not know anything about him?”
He shook his head.
“Is he from around here?”
“I haven’t a clue. All I know is that my mother went to England to have me adopted but then decided to keep me at the last minute. Then a few years later she came back here, took up with Daryl and my life has been a misery pretty much ever since.”
“Oh, Seán,” she said wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.
She began kissing him on the top of his head, whispering words of consolation in his ear. He wasn’t in the slightest bit upset, but he accepted her comfort nonetheless; it was the least he could do.
“I’m all right, Danielle,” he said, “honestly.”
She let go of him and scanned his face for signs of emotion, certain he was hiding his true feelings.
“I bet your mam’s glad she didn’t give you away, anyway. Look at how lovely you are.”
“I am, yeah,” he said in self-deprecation.
“You are,” she insisted. “You are!”
He looked at her, with her pupils still dilated, her jaw still jerking involuntarily, and smiled. She was off her head, out of her mind on Speckled Doves, but her heart was in the right place.
“Thanks, Dani. You’re not bad either.”