Being honest with myself, I had known it was coming for a while. For close to a year he had been distant—almost cold—and the sex was infrequent, perfunctory, and deeply unsatisfying. Still, the inkling that the end was near didn’t really help to cushion the blow when I arrived home from an academic conference to find all of Drew’s things moved out of the home we had shared for more than three years.
Thus, it was the chance to escape my empty house—and empty life—that drove my decision to accept a semester-long post in Dublin. Lord knows I didn’t harbor any real desire to teach Irish and Irish-American literature to undergrads more interested in lifting a pint than cracking open Joyce or McCourt.
At least I had found an inviting pub near my sublet where I could go to drown my sorrows. The bartender had come to recognize me as a regular, but generally allowed me to sit quietly in a corner, nursing my whiskey, and polishing off what surely were the finest fish and chips in the city.
One night I stopped in after a faculty reception. Because the dean had been in attendance, I was dressed far better than I ordinarily was—fitted suit and heels, hair and makeup done—as I looked around, trying to find a seat. The pub always did a brisk business, but that night it was packed to the rafters. I glanced at one of the TVs and immediately understood why. I had forgotten Ireland was playing a World Cup qualifying match. No wonder so many of my colleagues had been grumbling and scheming to leave the reception as soon as possible.
I had almost given up when I finally spied an open seat at the far end of the bar. I quickly made my way over to the unoccupied spot next to a nerdy-looking man fiddling nervously with the napkin under his glass. Amazingly, he seemed as uninterested in the fate of the “Boys in Green” as I was.
“This seat taken?” I asked as I sat down.
He jumped as if I had zapped him with a taser, then replied, “Um, no. I was, uh, saving it for you.” With that, he again dropped his head and resumed ruffling the edge of his napkin.
I had to think about that one for a second. From a typical guy I would have assumed it was a misfire of a terrible pick-up line in the vein of, “I saved a seat for you all right . . . on my face,” but this guy didn’t seem like the overly-assured macho type. It was awfully loud in the pub. I thought maybe I had simply misheard him.
I tried again to make conversation. “Busy tonight, huh?”
He turned to me like a deer caught in the headlights. “Er, I guess so.”
I attempted to flag down Jonny, the bartender, with no success. I turned my attention back to my seat-mate. “So . . . what’s your name?”
“No mistaking you’re Irish, huh?”
“I guess not.”
Declan looked miserable, as if he just wasn’t quite sure what to do with human contact. But I caught him glance furtively at my cleavage, like so many men before him, so maybe he wasn’t a poorly-programmed automaton after all.
“You know,” I said, “in normal, polite conversation, you would generally ask what my name is now.”
“Oh, uh, right. Um, what’s your name?” He fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Tiffany.” I extended my hand, which Declan left hanging.
“Yep. No mistaking I’m American, I guess.” I dropped my hand.
That admission finally seemed to spark some interest. “You’re an honest-to-God American?” he asked.
I occasionally attracted some attention with my foreignness, but Dublin was a pretty cosmopolitan city, so I was a bit puzzled by his reaction. “Yep. California girl, born and raised.”
I tried again to summon Jonny, and was eventually successful. “What are you drinking, Declan?” I gestured to his empty glass, accidentally grazing his hand as I did so. “Maybe I’ll have the same.”
“Oh, God,” he said, pulling at his collar. “I thought I was ready for this, but maybe I’m not. So what do I do? Do I give you the money now, or later?”
I was confused. Did he think I was going to order him another drink? Was he offering to pay for mine? “Money?” I asked, quizzically.
“Yeah, you know . . . the fee.” He was barely whispering, and he looked like he was about to pass out.
“For the . . . sex.”
I waved Jonny off, just as he had finally reached us. “Whoa,” I bristled. “You’ve definitely got the wrong idea, pal. I’m not a working girl. I was just trying to be nice.” I stood up to storm off.
“Wait!” He sounded desperate. “You mean the agency didn’t send you?”
I stared at him blankly.
“Oh, God, I’ve made a mess of everything again,” he sighed. “But now you can see why I need to pay for it. I’m hopeless around beautiful women.”
Something in the way he said it stopped me in my tracks. “What?” I said, turning back toward him.
“Or any women, really,” he stammered.
“Gee, thanks a lot.” I rolled my eyes and prepared to leave again.
“See, that’s what I mean. Trust me to always say the wrong thing in any situation.”
I had to know. “Just out of curiosity . . . what situation did you think we were getting into a moment ago?”
“Today is my birthday,” he mumbled.
“Congratulations. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I mean, everything. You see, I decided that thirty-two is just too old to be a . . . a virgin, and I made up my mind to do something about it.”
I began to put two and two together.
“So you hired an escort to relieve you of that burden?”
“Yes.” He hung his head again.
“Well, good luck with that. Just one more thing . . . what possibly made you think I was the woman in question?”
“Oh, Christ,” he began. “I asked for a blonde. A beautiful blonde. A beautiful, American blonde.”
I cocked my eyebrow at him and shook my head.
“It’s just a fantasy I have, okay? I watched a lot of TV as a kid. Listen, beautiful American blondes don’t typically just come up to me and chat me up, so you can understand why I was confused.”
I still wasn’t sure I appreciated being mistaken for a sex worker, but I didn’t sense that Declan was being anything other than truthful. He also seemed genuinely sorry. I sat back down.
“You’ve really never done it before?”
“Who’d do it with me?”
I gave him a quick, but thorough, appraisal. Awkward and shy as he was, he was also pretty cute—in an absent-minded professor sort of way. He had a handsome face hidden behind his Coke-bottle glasses. His hair was thick, wavy, and nearly black, although he was several months overdue for a haircut by the look of things. He was trim, and he seemed tall, although I had admittedly only seen him from the waist up. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal what were apparently muscular, masculine forearms, which were a particular weakness of mine.
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” I said finally. “Let me buy you a birthday drink while you wait for your lady friend.”
I got Jonny’s attention yet again and asked for two whiskeys. When they were delivered, I clinked my glass against Declan’s and said, “Here’s to a night of firsts. The first time you get laid, and the first—and hopefully last—time I’m ever mistaken for a lady of the evening.”
While I sipped my drink, Declan slammed his back in two gulps. “Take it easy there, sailor,” I joked.
“I’m just so nervous.”
“Well, alcohol isn’t generally known to improve things. There’s a reason performance issues are called ‘whiskey dick,’ you know.”
Declan slumped and knocked his forehead against the bar. “Just like me to make a hames of it even when I’m paying for it,” he groaned.
“Hey, why don’t you just relax, and talk to me until . . . you know . . . your ‘date’ arrives. What do you do? When you’re not subsidizing the world’s oldest profession, that is?”
It turned out my instinct had been correct. Declan was a professor, of mathematics, at the same university I was currently teaching at. He tried to explain just exactly what it was that he taught, but I had barely made it through calculus, so I was hopelessly lost from the outset. Still, he strung together more words, more enthusiastically, than at any other point in our conversation, so I tried my best to be attentive and ask cogent questions. Finally, he sensed that my eyes were glazing over, and he stopped short. “I’m sorry. You see, this is what I do. Drone on and on about topics that interest maybe ten people on the entire planet, instead of asking about you.”
“It’s okay,” I said gently, placing my hand on his arm. My instinct had been correct about that, too. His forearm was solid and strong, just the way I liked them. “We can talk about me when I get back.”
I carefully wended my way through the crowd toward the ladies’ room, availed myself of the facilities, and started to make my way back to the bar. When I got close, I could see that she was there, so I changed course and crossed the pub to the exit. Declan’s companion was indeed a blonde, and she appeared to be very beautiful. It was unclear if she was also American, but I supposed two out of three wasn’t bad. I wasn’t sure if I really condoned how he was going about it, but I hoped that night Declan would find what he was looking for.
I was busy grading papers for the rest of the week, so it was several days before I found myself at the pub again. I was just finishing my chips when I looked up to see Declan come through the entrance. He clearly saw me as well, as he immediately reversed and tried to flee.
I was too quick for him, though. “Hey, Declan!” I called. “Come here and have a drink with me.” I patted the stool next to mine. Unable to slink away, he reluctantly joined me at the bar.
“So . . ." I said, curious, ". . . how’d it go?”
“It didn’t?” I was incredulous. “What happened?”
“I took her back to my place, but we just talked.”
“You just talked.”
“We just talked. It didn’t feel right. She was so nice, I didn’t want to take advantage of her.”
“You didn’t want to take advantage of an escort by paying to have sex with her? Isn’t that kind of the point?”
“Yeah, but I just couldn’t. She’s someone’s daughter, you know.”
I smiled. Poor, shy Declan was also apparently too decent for his own good. “Did you at least pay her for her time?”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how much?”
“Six hundred Euros? Man, I should have gone home with you that night. I didn’t realize that was the going rate for not having sex with you.” I laughed.
Declan didn’t find my joke very funny. “You must think I’m pathetic. I’m six hundred Euros poorer, and I’m still a virgin.”
“Oh, Declan, no. I’m sorry. I actually think you’re pretty sweet.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling at him, “I do.”
He looked down at the floor for a while, then seemed to screw up his courage and blurted, “You’re pretty great, too. You’re so easy to talk to. And, you didn’t even slap me when I thought you were a prostitute.”
We both laughed, then sat together in companionable silence as I finished my beer. I sighed, not quite believing what I was about to say. “Declan, I have a proposition for you. How about I take your virginity off your hands?”
I looked at the clock on my phone for what felt like the hundredth time in just ten minutes. Maybe he chickened out, I thought as I waited for him in the hotel suite I had checked into for the weekend. It was a bit of a stretch on my salary, and Declan certainly seemed harmless enough, but in case he was secretly a stalker, I felt safer meeting him away from my sublet. Besides, I wasn’t sure the fusty, bitter old lady who lived downstairs would appreciate the ruckus likely to be created as I deflowered Declan. Just walking around in my stocking feet was sometimes enough to set her off, and the springs on my bed were old and squeaky. Yikes. What if he’s a screamer? Somehow that complication had just now crossed my mind.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. I rose from the couch and crossed the room to peer out the peephole. Outside was Declan—finally—bearing an enormous bouquet but looking like he was about to run away.
I hastily threw open the door. “There you are!” I gushed. “Come on in.”
To his credit, Declan made it through the doorway, but he stood frozen just inside as I turned and locked the door behind him. “Hi,” I said. “You made it.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“Is that for me?” I asked, pointing at the bouquet.
“Um, sure. I mean, yes. They’re for you.”
As I stood waiting for him to hand me the flowers, I noted that Declan had undergone a mini-transformation since I last saw him. His hair was trimmed, his clothes unrumpled, and his thick glasses were nowhere in sight. Without them, I could see that his eyes were a uniquely beautiful color, caught somewhere between blue and green. His demeanor hadn’t changed, though. He stood rooted in place, eyes downcast, waiting (hoping?) for the floor to swallow him up.
“Do you want to give it to me?” I prompted.
“What? Straight away? I thought we’d kiss or something first.”
“Oh, Declan.” I tried hard to suppress a giggle. “The bouquet . . . do you want to give it to me?”
“Oh, of course.” He blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I mean, I can’t believe this is really going to happen.”
I moved to take the bouquet from him, kissing him on the cheek as I did so. I laid the flowers on the small table in the kitchenette, then took his hand and led him to the couch.
“Shall we get started?” I leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. When he didn’t object, I moved closer, running one hand along his jaw and turning his face to mine, while using my other hand to lightly stroke his chest. I moved my mouth harder against his, attempting to open his lips with my tongue, but Declan remained unresponsive, his hands in his lap.
I sighed and broke away. “It’s okay to touch me, you know. You’re going to have to eventually if you want to accomplish what you’ve set out to accomplish.”
“I’m sorry. This is all new to me.”
“You’ve never even kissed a girl before?”
“Declan,” I said, trying to be delicate, “do you at least know where all the parts go?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’m very familiar.” He tried to sound confident, but I remained unconvinced.
“So you’ve watched porn, then?” I wondered what kind and what myths I was going to have to dispel.
“No! I mean, I’ve tried, but I get too embarrassed for the people with all their bits hanging out for everyone to see. I like to read about sex, though.”
Well, that was something, I thought. I only hoped it was actually erotic literature and not clinical textbooks.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of the stories you’ve read, and what you liked about them.” I leaned in again, and whispered, “You know, especially anything you’d like to try.”
“I like stories about people losing their virginity.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I purred into his ear. “Such as?”
“There are these stories about a cowboy who loses his virginity with a much more experienced woman. She’s really patient with him, and they get up to all sorts of sex once he’s finally done it.”
“That sounds promising. You mean like lots of different positions? Anything in particular?”
“He rides her all over the place, but I think I’d just like to do it the normal way, at least the first time.”
“The normal way? You mean you want to be on top?”
He looked at me shyly and nodded.
“Okay. I think we can manage that.” I kissed him again. “But, Declan, you’re going to have to loosen up. I’m giving you permission now to touch me when and where it feels natural, as long as you’re not rough about it, and stop if I tell you to stop. Don’t overthink this, and just do what feels right. Do you think you can do that?”
He reached out, put his hands around my waist, and pulled me to him. Apparently he could.
We began kissing again, this time with Declan as an active participant. His tongue slipped into my mouth as his hands slid downward to my breasts. It was hard to imagine that a man his age was just copping his first feel, but his reaction was so pure that it must have been true. “God, that’s amazing. I didn’t realize they’d be so . . . heavy.”
I started unbuttoning my blouse to give him better access, and was mildly surprised when Declan took over the task for himself. He pushed the fabric off of my shoulders, kissing my collarbone as he did so, sending a lovely shiver through me. Nice touch, Declan, I thought to myself.
I quickly shimmied out of my shirt, and reached behind me to unfasten my bra, when Declan again took matters into his own hands. He fumbled for just a second, then undid the hooks and lowered the straps from my shoulders. “Wow,” he said softly as he uncovered my breasts and took them into his hands, gently stroking with his thumbs as his fingers cupped their weight.
I found myself wanting to feel his mouth on them—sucking, teasing, nipping with his teeth—so I placed my hand on the back of his head and carefully drew him closer, hoping he would take the hint. Clearly starting to get the hang of things, he took my nipple into his mouth, exploring it with his tongue, while simultaneously pushing me backward into the corner of the couch. As his attention to my breasts began to warm other areas of my body, I moaned, and he looked up momentarily for reassurance. I nodded and mouthed, “Yes.” He smiled and continued his ministrations.
I hadn’t had sex since Drew left me, and only sporadically in the year before that. It felt so good to be touched again, especially now that Declan was finding his sea legs. I wanted more—more of his warm skin against mine, strange yet entirely familiar all at once.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I said, pushing him up so he was sitting again. I straddled him and began to remove his shirt, kissing my way down his chest with each undone button. I could feel the swelling in his groin trapped between us, and I knew my own jeans were getting soaked with my arousal. I kissed him hard, grinding against him, and felt him grow even stiffer. Moving my hand to stroke his erection through his pants, I was intrigued by just how much of him there seemed to be. Declan, you little devil, I thought.
Curious to see exactly what I was working with, I got up from the couch then pulled him up to join me. As I fumbled with his belt, Declan nuzzled my neck, temporarily distracting me from my work, but I was determined, and eventually I had him nearly unwrapped.
“Declan!” I gasped as I finally unzipped him, and eased his pants and shorts to the floor. “It’s criminal you’ve been keeping this cock from the women of Ireland for all these years.”
I wasn’t just being nice. Declan had been endowed with a dick that was not only longer than average but also thicker, with an upward curve that promised to make for some very pleasant sensations when we actually got down to business.
“So it’s all right then, is it?”
“Yes, Declan, it’s more than all right. You have a gift, and you haven’t been using it. You can give a woman a lot of pleasure with this thing if you use it wisely.” I used one hand to stroke his prick, which surged and twitched beneath my fingers, and the other to gently massage his balls, which were respectable in their own right.
“Are you about ready to go see what this can do?” I leaned down and gave the head of his cock a light kiss, then took his hand and started to lead him to the bedroom.
He swallowed hard and nodded, then seemed to have second thoughts, “I am, but are you?” It was as if he still couldn’t believe a woman would want to have sex with him.
“What do you think I need to be to be ready?”
“Wet,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Are you wet?”
I turned back toward him. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” I undid my belt, then lowered my zipper. I reached for his hand and slid it down the front of my panties. “What do you think? Am I ready for you?”
He drew in his breath as he touched my sensitive flesh, and I pressed my hips into him. “I . . . you . . ." The poor boy was tongue-tied at touching his first pussy.
“I’ll give you the answer, Professor. The answer is yes, Declan, I am so wet for you.” I leaned in and nibbled on his ear, saying, “I want you. Come and make love to me.”
In the bedroom, I quickly removed my jeans, then lay down on the bed, slowly spreading my legs so Declan would get a good look at where his cock was headed. I beckoned for him to join me. “Come on. It’s time.”
As he knelt between my legs, I stroked him again, just to make sure he was hard enough to penetrate me. Tilting my hips upward, I positioned the tip of his penis so it was poised to enter me whenever he was ready. I looked into his eyes, smiled, and nodded subtly.
An instant later, Declan became a man. He pushed into me — one thrust burying his shaft so deep I felt his balls nestle against my pussy. “Oh, that’s good!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea it would be so warm . . . or so tight.”
We lay like that for a bit, enjoying being so intimately intertwined, until I prompted him, “Declan, one of us is going to need to move, and since you’re on top . . ."
“Oh, right,” he said, sheepishly. “It’s okay?”
“It’s marvelous.” I grabbed his backside and pulled him in as deep as I could, hoping he would get the idea.
From that point forward, nature took over. Declan may not have known what he was doing, but his body clearly did. And my body enjoyed how his was doing it.
I didn’t expect to come—how long could a virgin possibly last, after all?—but come I did, and it was glorious. As Declan continued to thrust, he began to hit just the right spot, and I felt my climax build until it became inevitable. I couldn’t help moaning and calling out his name as the sensation burst forth, drenching my pussy in warmth that radiated outward to the rest of my body. And I had worried about him being a screamer.
I wanted to clench around his cock and savor the feeling for as long as I could, but I also wanted him to finish, so I forced myself to remain relaxed. My patience was soon rewarded as his strokes became deeper and more frantic, and I felt his release flood me. He collapsed onto me for just a moment before he propped himself up again.
“My God, that’s what sex is?” he said excitedly. “No wonder everyone wants to do it all the time.”
Then he realized I had tears in my eyes. Drew had ceased to care whether he gave me an orgasm when he had ceased to care about me, and I hadn’t realized how deeply I would be moved by the experience of a man giving me pleasure again after such a long time.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Declan was genuinely concerned.
“Oh, Declan, no. These are happy tears. I just . . . you know that euphoria you just experienced? I haven’t had that for a really long time, and you made me feel it again. Thank you.”
“I did that?”
“Yes. Who knew you would go from virgin to red-hot lover instantaneously?” I sighed deeply.
He rolled off of me and onto his back, then drew me in to his side, kissing me deeply. “Red-hot, huh?” There was a gleam in his eyes I had never seen before.
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, stud,” I said. “That was probably just beginner’s luck. You have a lot left to learn.”
“I guess I’ll need someone to further my education, then. Someone patient, and kind, and very beautiful.” He caressed my cheek. “Do you know anyone like that?”
“I think some additional tutoring can be arranged.”
Copyright GWinterbourne 2019.