The universe might be playing tricks on me, for all I know. I’m half expecting to wake up. To realize that my
imagination has fabricated this girl out of thin air and that she’ll suddenly disappear into the hazy mist of some
desperation-induced daydream.
But I know for a fact my imagination could never have created such a sublime creature as Lucky Irish.
Her breasts are full and creamy-smooth, her pink nipples taut and rosy. Her stomach is graceful and feminine,
not overdone in an abs-of-steel or overworked-gym-bunny kind of way, but natural and womanly. It’s a detail that
undoes me. All that talk of babies and surrounding herself with magical little children has shifted something inside
me. You hear it on the internet all the time and the phrase might as well be a flashing neon sign inside my brain.
When you know, you know.
I want to be the one to do it. I’ll do it right fucking now if she’ll let me. I want to plant my seed right here in
this perfect girl, with a ferocity I’ve never experienced before.
I’m slayed by the fucking magnitude of her gorgeousness. And by how perfect she is for me. I want her, it’s as
simple as that. Not just tonight, but all of it. The knocked up Irish dream girl. The magical babies. A full-to-the-
brim home full of laughter, something we both missed out on. I’m never letting this girl out of my sight. I need to
convince her to let me give her everything I have.
I almost wish I’d fucking taken care of myself before the date. I’m on fire. My heart pounds against my ribs,
like it’s grown too big to fit comfortably in there. And it’s not the only thing that’s uncomfortably fucking big. My
cock is hot and painfully engorged.
Lucky Irish somehow makes this whole experience very new. Finally. Sex with a woman I want to ke ep. All
my life, I’ve gone with the flow. I’ve allowed relationships to happen because it’s what you do when you’re
young, in demand and you don’t want to be alone. But the romantic in me always held something back, because I
always knew I wasn’t with the person I wanted to end up with.
I take her nipple into my mouth like it’s my very first time—and it might as well be for the overload of
obsession-fueled lust coursing through my veins. I suck on her slowly, worshipfully, in awe of the silky softness of
her.
I usually consider myself an easy-going guy. I’m the diplomat in my family. The mediator. The one my
brothers come to when they need something handled with a level head.
In the bedroom it’s a slightly different story. I’ve been told I’m a “beast,” an “animal,” “the Superman of
orgasms,” and “the best fuck in New York”—among others. By women who were placeholders. I don’t sle ep
around so I tend to get pent-up from time to time. And I happen to have won the lottery in the well-hung
d epartment. It is what it is.
Now, with Lucky Irish in my bed, I’m fucking feral. She tastes like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Sweet.
Almost floral. Like milky honey blossoms in the garden of Eden. I suck on her like I’m trying to drink this essence
from her. I’m demanding. It’s perverse, almost, the need and greed I feel.
Little moans of pleasure es cape her, getting me even harder. I take my time, licking, feasting, peeling off her
panties with my teeth. I ease her legs wider and position her so her legs are wrapped around my shoulders. I hold
her thighs apart. “Look at you, baby girl, so wet for me. I’m going to taste you now. And eat you until you come so
hard you’re going to see stars as you scream my name.”
“Eat...?” she breathes, like she’s shocked I would suggest such a thing. Her gasp comes out sounding like,
“Oh, fuck.”
There’s a smile on my face when I take my first taste of her. I’m literally in heaven. I feast greedily on her
sweet softness and she moans, her
hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair.
I don’t hold back. I couldn’t if I tried. I eat into her like a man possessed, zeroing in on her clit, licking and
sucking her in soft pulls as my fingers tease and explore.
She starts to quiver. Her hips sway gently in a back-and-forth rhythm. She cries out my name.
I fucking love that sound like I’ve never loved anything. Of her dreamy exhale, calling to me, like I’m a
mythical god she’s already in love with. Like I’m too good to be true.
Her pussy pulses around my tongue and the taste of her as she comes becomes the most feverish addiction I’ve
ever known.
She’s mine. I want to marry her and give her ten babies and spend the rest of life doing this.
Mine, mine, mine.