The Lucky Leprechaun - Sex Stories

The Lucky Leprechaun

... it'll be something you regret for the rest of your life."

Johnny replied, "You're right, Da. I've been a fool. I'll start making travel plans tomorrow."

"Before you go, I have a couple more things. Rory has some flats in Dublin that he set up for short-term lettings. He said you're welcome to stay at one with no charge. You won't need a travel visa to Ireland, so ye can just get on a plane and go. And don't worry about a car rental, you'll be in Dublin and a car will be more hassle than it's worth. All ye have to do is pack yer bag and buy yer airline ticket. Here, I want you to have this, too." I reached into my pocket and handed Johnny a check.

"Thank you, Da. Did you already have the check made out?"

"I did. I can be very convincing, Johnny. After all, I convinced your mother to marry me. Now get yerself going!"

Johnny smiled and said, "Thank you for everything, Da."

I watched as Johnny got up and left the pub. It was good to hear Johnny call me 'Da' once again. He had stopped doing it years ago. To us Irish, 'Da' is more than just another name for father. It symbolizes the connection between generations and the passing down of family traditions. The love, laughter, and shared memories of spending time together. It's me taking Johnny to his first game at Fenway Park. Riding the Swan Boats. Walking the Freedom Trail. Taking him to play ice hockey. Showing him how to eat a lobster. And now, helping Johnny find the woman he loves is one of those things a ...

... father has to do. I only hoped I had enough time left on this green earth to see Johnny walk her down the aisle.

I took a sip of my Guinness and watched as a dribble of the creamy white foam slid back down inside the half-full glass. My mind once again became lost in my story, and I drifted back to the memory of St. Patrick's Day in 1992.

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After Orla said 'Yes', I went over to our booth and we kissed. She was smiling and crying at the same time. I took her hand and told her how much I loved her. We stayed like this, whispering Yeat's love poems to each other in between our kisses. It got to be right around closing time, but I knew there would be a mess in the kitchen, and I needed to stay to clean up. Big Sean chased the last patrons out and said Orla could stay as long as she wanted and help herself to anything in the bar. After Big Sean left, Orla took me by the hand and we stood. There was a special twinkle in her eye, and as we kissed, I could tell she was feeling passionate. One of her hands reached behind my head, and her fingers slipped through my hair. Our lips and tongues melted together and refused to separate. My nose drew in the sweet scent of her perfume, and I fought to keep my eyes open so I could just look at her and watch her every movement. I reached my hands behind her and gently ran them over her back, feeling the soft flesh through her clothes. Green Shamrock lights were blinking, and the flashes alternately lit up her face before ...