The Lucky Leprechaun - Sex Stories

The Lucky Leprechaun

... Northern Ireland and left for America during the Potato Famine. She also told me she was a Protestant. I cautioned her, that after The Troubles up north, she best not go around saying so in these parts."

I took a sip of Guinness and watched as a dribble of the creamy white foam slid back down inside the half-full glass. My mind became lost in my own story, and I drifted back to the memory of that day, and to that special place.

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Orla turned her head to look at me, then smiled. Then she rolled over onto her side, turning her back to me, before ending up facing my feet. I felt her dainty fingers run over my trousers and brush over my cock. I already had the beginnings of an erection just from watching her. Undoing my zip, her fingers slipped inside my trousers and I gasped. She began rubbing her hand slowly and gently along the length of my shaft, fingers on one side, thumb on the other. As my blood rushed to meet her presence, she wriggled my cock free and out into the sunshine. Unconfined, her fingers curled and squeezed and teased me.

As a devout Catholic, I had never gone this far with a woman. Her fingers danced along my shaft as her thumb traced the base of the head. Shifting slightly, her hand moved away, and it was replaced by her warm soft tongue, moving in semi-circles around the tip of my cock. Her fingers re-entered my trousers, cupping my ball sack. This was all new to me, and I was unsure of what to do. Should I start to thrust into her, ...

... or just let her remain in control?

In one smooth motion, she rolled over onto her stomach, taking half my cock into her mouth. Lifting her head, she turned and looked at me. Our eyes met, and she winked at me. She was already well beyond any need to seek my permission, but I smiled in confirmation. Her tongue began licking my shaft, not straight up and down, but rather in constant motion, mixing quick laps with kisses and slow circles. I had never felt anything so wonderful in my life, and precum gushed from me.

She cupped the tip of my penis with her palm, then spread the slippery fluid along my shaft, adding a dribble of her saliva. Her hand stroked up and down, and she owned my cock. Internal pressures mounted, tingles coursed through my whole body, and I yelled to her I was going to erupt. She pulled her head back but kept rubbing with her hand, and strings of white cream jumped into the air, landing on the front of my trousers. Orla slowed her pace, then gripped the base of my cock. Squeezing it tightly, her hand slowly moved up the length of my cock, milking even more white cream from the tip. I watched as it dribbled down her hand.

Orla leaned closer, extended her tongue, and lapped at it, picking up a large glob on the tip of her tongue. Pulling back, she stretched it thinner and thinner, and it grew to several centimeters in length before breaking away. Part of the string snapped back onto my cock, and the rest snapped onto her lips. But she didn't wipe it ...