Authors note: It has been said many times that I was an excellent ambassador to my country while in Ireland. Bartenders still call me on Christmas to this day 😉
PART 1- The Stranger
It is no secret that I am infatuated by Latino men having grown up in Puerto Rico. However, after moving back to the continental U.S for college, I discovered a deep fetish for the Irish accent.
The correlation is this; I was 18 and wanted to know more about my ancestry. I am Czech, German, and Swedish but discovered there were at least two Irish women in my immediate bloodline. I dove head first into researching them and like every other American upon the same discovery, I acted as though I was full blooded Mick.
It was settled. I was off to the Motherland.
My best friend at the time was just as horny as I was. We were the perfect travel buddies.
As soon as my foot stepped off the plane I was ready to fuck. Dublin was a melting pot though. Finding actual Irishmen was more challenging than I thought.
Our first night we went to a massive three story venue with an Opera style theatre playing Monty Python movies. The golden architecture was breathe taking. On each side there were three rooms (one on each level). Each room had a DJ spinning different genres of music.
We danced all night long but I couldn’t find anyone I was attracted to.
When the night ended hundreds of people were leaving at the same time. I had an idea- I waited at the exit and sized up every dude that walked by me. I kept thinking I can’t believe I’ve been in this country for 12 hours and haven’t scored yet.
I finally saw one that was…doable.
I approached him and grabbed his wrist. I looked him in his eyes, smiled and said, “Do you wanna hang out with me for a little bit?”
He had me pressed up against a cold stone building. The entire back alley was dark and wet. There was no one else around. It was quiet.
We made out heavily as he pulled my pants down. The building was REALLY cold against my bare ass. My pants fell to the wet pavement while I took his nice sized cock out and gave it a kiss.
I looked up and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Fay-lem.”
I licked the head of his cock like a lollipop.
He hoisted my legs around his hips and fucked me in that dark wet alley against the stone building.
“Fuck the pussy, fuck the pussy, fuck the pussy…” he kept repeating each thrust in that heavy Irish accent.
“I’m gunna cum, love!” he panicked.
“Faylum Pull Out!”
He came on my stomach as it dripped to my feet.
I never saw him again.
PART 2- The Ghost Tour and The Virgin
I woke up in our hostel next to my best friend.
“You have a good time?”
“Oh yeah!” I pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
“Pheighlyhm?”
“Pronounced ‘Fay-lem’.” I said. He wrote his number down, country code and all.
“You gonna call him?” We giggled and then hit the showers.
I was an amateur boxer at this time and had a fight coming up in a few weeks. I jogged around the River Liffey to sweat out the hang over each day we were in Dublin. My friend had all the night activity planned as I did the day stuff.
We lived off of baguettes and nutella from SPAR so we could afford our weight in Guinness every night. At the actual brewery we met a group of Swedish guys who were as funny as they were hot. But they were not the target.
Of course we had to do the spooky Ghost Tour on a Double Decker tour bus. We slammed some beers and hopped right on.
The tour guide was dressed as a Vampire and was incredibly theatrical. We drove by Bram Stoker’s actual house on the way to a graveyard. My friend leans over and says, “I have to pee.”
I could see her eyes welling up as she had her hands in between her knees, shaking a bit.
“This tour is 2 hours long!” I whispered nervously. There were no bathrooms on the bus.
The tour guide was hilarious and extremely animated. I felt so bad for my friend because one more laugh and she was going to piss herself. I didn’t know which part was funnier. I was crying I was laughing so hard at her misfortune. I couldn’t help it!
Then the tour guide decides, out of EVERYONE on that bus that he was going to sit on her lap and tell his next story. ALL EYES WERE ON HER.
She cupped her mouth with her hands and looked at me and said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do!”
The tour guide Vampire started bouncing up and down on her lap talking about safety and how we should stay together as a group while making jokes. I was in stitches. Tears were streaming down my face I was laughing so hard.
Then the bus came to a stop.
“Did you pee yourself?” I couldn’t breathe. I was still laughing.
We heard the bus driver open the door and my friend BOLTED! I ran after her. She sprinted left.
I saw her up ahead. She had dropped trou in some neighborhood on a random suburban lawn.
“I’m coming!” I shouted and sprinted over to her. I flung my pants off with a fury and peed right next to her.
“Why are you peeing so close to me?!!”
“What?”
“Your ass is touching mine! Do you have to pee so close?” Pee was jetting out of us!
We were laughing so hard we both farted at the same time.
“You could have peed ANYWHERE else!”
“I don’t know why I got so close!”
She was laughing and peeing so hard, she farted again which made me pee even harder.
“You’re peeing all over my shoes!” She wheezed.
Some guy walking his dog strolled right past us.
“It’s safer this way.” I said.
“What way?”
“With our butts touching.”
“You girls alight?” His dog sniffed my friend.
“Oh my god people can see us!” We were peeing and farting out in the open. We flung our pants back on and ran, hoping the bus didn’t leave us behind. We were sure it did.
A sigh of relief was had as we heard our tour guide, “All right everyone! After you’re all finished up at our private restrooms, onto the Graveyards!”
He looked at us. “Where did you two run off to?”
I was doubled over laughing again as my friend just stared at the ‘Toilet’ sign completely dead pan.
After the tour we discovered PUBS. Pub life was way different than bar life. Everyone age 18-95 just socialized at a pub after work. Live music was performed every night. We met actual Pirates, tons of Australians, traveling bands from Spain you name it.
Then I saw HIM. One of the four bartenders. He looked like John Cusack. Everything moved in slow motion.
The pub door suddenly flung open and very tall drunk man came barreling in.
“Ya Lageeeerrrrrrrrrrrsssss!!!!” he belted, stumbling to the bar with a raised arm and finger.
All four bartenders started screaming at him. Their accents were soaking my panties. Apparently being drunk in public is a major no no in Ireland. (Good to know.) And the guy waltzing in had already been kicked out at least once already.
They screamed at each other for two minutes then served the guy! Talk about squashing it! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry I was terrified of the altercation. Apparently that’s normal there. <<shrugs>>
I locked eyes with the bartender and flirted a bit but it was so busy I didn’t want to be a nuisance.
My friend and I ended up hanging out with the group of Swedes from the brewery earlier, a few Pirates and this one Australian guy, Cameron, who was around my age. Not Irish but he’ll do.
We went out back for some fresh air and privacy. It took me a second but I recognized where we were. It was the back alley from last night!
“HEY! **hiccup** havent I seen you before? **hiccup,**” t
he super drunk guy was asking, wobbling right behind me. I turned bright red. He must’ve seen me last night.
A door flung open and two goon looking guys dragged the drunkard out by his neck.
It was just me and Cameron. “Lets go somewhere.” I said.
He got us a really cute Bed and Breakfast with a stunning view of a popular Dublin street.
My bra never came off during sex. “A virgin!” I thought to myself.
We actually just made love. A bunch. Face to face, slowly, and safely. The room smelled of old wood, linens, and baked goods. Dublin looked beautiful from our window.
In the morning we had tea and cakes and kissed each other good bye.
We kept in touch.
Part 3- The Bartender
William O’Connell. Or as I like to call him, John Cusack.
We flirted every night but he never advanced. Probably married. I kept my distance.
I visited Ireland three more times after this trip to see the rest of the country. I’d always land in Dublin and swing by to say hello.
One day, he found himself divorced and very shy as usual. I think he finally got tired of watching guys flirt with me. The pub was PACKED! He came out from behind the bar, grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me away.
He was pulling me behind the bar, passing all the other bartenders who were giving him a standing ovation.
He plopped me right on a bed of coats and grabbed my face and kissed me. Live Irish music was bellowing and the entire pub stomped their feet to the beat.
Years of transatlantic flights finally landed me cozily nestled in a coat nook with my arms and legs wrapped around him.
We went to Rugby matches, Hurling, Disco Techs, dinners, and always back on a bus to his flat.
We kept in touch for years.
Part 4 – The Musician
Ireland is just MAGIC. I have endless stories. Like staying with an ex catholic priest in his flat with 25 other travelers, the punk rock and garage music scene, castles, Cork, Galway, couch surfing, Temple Bar, and the People! OMG THE PEOPLE!
Back to my first trip. Roscoe McGee. The sexiest man I had ever seen in my life.
It was our last night in Ireland. I ended up spending the previous night with those Swedish guys. Like all of them. In one room. I made out with one but that was it. Keep in mind I was incredibly young and inexperienced. Making out was good enough for me. I am biased though. I still think making out and getting fingered is better than almost anything else.
Roscoe.
Roscoe was in an incredible band. Probably still is.
My best friend and I had successfully gotten shit faced every night for over two weeks. We decided to go out with a bang. She had her eyes on a guy in a priest costume (it was Halloween). I told her to have fun and I’d figure things out. I always did. It was 9pm and we needed to be at the airport when customs opened at 6am.
I had a blast listening to some of the best 60’s garage style music I had ever heard. Girls were visibly mad at me for attracting the bass player of one of these bands. He looked like a young Benicio Del Toro mixed with a young Brad Pitt. Long hair and all. He was INCREDIBLY polite.
I had my luggage with me.
“I have to leave tonight.”
“Come stay with me for a bit before you go.” I can still hear that accent.
He hailed a cab, stopped at a corner store for condoms where he mumbled his order shyly, with me shit faced right next to him, and took me home.
I rode him for as long as I could.
He shouted what I was thinking, “I can’t believe this is foocking happening!!”
That accent combined with my clit pressing into his pelvis made me cum SO HARD it is forever ranked in my top 5 best orgasms of my life.
We kept in touch for over a decade.
Customs BARELY let us through in the shape my friend and I were in while she talked about “fucking the hung priest.” I’m still laughing about that.
Part 5- The Viking
Yohan.
A few years later my best friend and I were at a Flogging Molly concert (in the United States). They were good friends of ours (still are).
My friend comes running over to me with a shit eating grin and says “TAAAA DAAAHHH!!!!”
In her arms was a 7 foot tall Viking man named Yohan.
Yohan was half Swedish, half Irish and alllll mine.
My bestie was fucking the singer of one of the opening bands and Yohan happened to be his friend. They both stayed the night.
Yohan needs to be studied by science. He gave me over 6 hours of straight up foreplay.
HOURS. OF FOREPLAY.
The only rule he had was he didn’t want to cum. He just wanted to play with my body and make out for as long as possible.
It just so happened he was going back to Ireland in a few days, and I was going back in a week!
It is a strict rule that there are no guests allowed in hostels. So there I was again in Dublin. We found a public restroom and made it ours for the evening. I am not sure how a seven foot tall man and I managed to squeeze into this stall but we did and we fore played for 8 hours.
Eight. Hours.
This was in Temple Bar (the night club district in Dublin) so we heard girls come in and out for the whole 8 hours. Some were wasted, some just had to pee, some took a shit, some even puked. We heard it all. And they heard us.
He licked my pussy for hours. He sucked my tits and neck for hours. He fingered me for hours. We fucked a little here and there but like I said, he didn’t want to cum. Anytime he got close we took a break and made out. He was rock hard the entire time.
I regret not keeping in touch.
Shortly after that trip, however, I discovered motorcycles.
