Folks, if the formatting has gone to hell in the transition, my apologies…

July 1st.

Molly Malone’s Irish pub, Helsinki.

I was there with someone I had met on msn – we were (are) both in our (then early) 40s. We met at 5p.m. on Dubliner’s terrace in Kaivopiha after having been chatting for a few weeks on the ‘net. Although sex hadn’t been mentioned during our conversations it felt like both of us knew exactly what we wanted without even saying it.

By the time the band started its last set at about 1a.m. we were trying to swallow one another’s tongues, only stopping to come up for air and a drink from time to time, and our hands were wandering on and under clothing. Like I said, we both knew what we wanted.

A couple of hours earlier in the evening, when we’d moved from the terace to Molly’s I’d been standing at the bar to get a drink when a group of youngsters, a few boys and girls, obviously out for a good time, came in. One of the girls was wearing a pair of underwear over her jeans, and was drapped in a huge flag. If I say, “Red and White + Maple Leaf”, I think you’ll get the idea (check the date again…).

The group had to move apart to let me move away from the bar, and I smiled at Supergirl (did she wear hers outside as well, or was that just Superman???) and said “You missed the National Anthem – you’ll have to sing it at the end of the night, now”. She laughed and said “No problem – if you’ll get on stage with me!”. I said of course I would, and complimented her on her underwear.

That was it. A bit of banter. Food for the ego of a 40-something man that a young girl will still flirt back. Forgotten. I had more mature fish to fry.

As the band finished, and the lights came up, my date disappeared. I assumed she’d gone to the loo, so I was just hanging around near our table when I realised Supergirl was standing next to me. She said “Well, come on then, we have an anthem to sing”. There was no way on earth I was getting up on the stage, and I said it was already July 2nd, so it was too late, and I turned to the stage to point out that the band was packing away when…

Oh, the things we do.

On stage, hanging all over one of the band members like some pathetic groupie, was my date. Nothing had been said, but I thought it was pretty much a done deal as to what was going to occur at the end of the night. Seems I’d been mistaken. Fuck it.

I’d been drinking fairly solidly for almost eight hours. Dutch courage is a wonderful thing, sometimes.

I turned to Supergirl and said, “I hope you won’t be offended, but when I said I liked your undewear earlier, what I really wanted to say was, “I like what’s in your underwear”. She looked at me all askanse – you know the “oh, really??” look – and said, “yeah, right, of course you did”.

I said to her, “Yes, really I did. For fuck’s’ sake, you’re a gorgeous, young woman, who laughed at my joke, of course I wanted to – but I was still too much of a gentleman at that point, the beer hadn’t taken hold. And besides, a pretty 20 year old hardly wants someone old enough to be her dad hitting on her”.

She looked at the stage, and back at me, and moved in close. Touching close. “I thought you were too busy to look at a nienteen year old girl like me – and I think older men are fucking hot”, she said, looking over my shoulder. It was obvious what she meant – she’d seen the tongue wrestling going on. I figured my date was no more, I figured why the fuck not, so I put my hand up to the back of her head and moved my face toward hers. She leaned in and started kissing me.

It was drink-fuelled lust, pure and simple. She was a much much better kisser than my date, and my body responded in appropriate fashion very quickly. She was leaning against me, so could feel it, no question. She put one of her hands down between our bodies and squeezed my cock through my jeans. I put one of my hands on her breast and mauled it. She was moaning through the kiss, my cock was so hard it hurt, and my date was forgotten.

She pulled her hand away from me, put both hands to her shoulders, and pulled the flag around us. Our upper bodies, from the neck down, were shrouded in silk and completely hidden from the hordes in the bar. Who were probably too drunk to care anyway.

She put her hands back between us but this time didn’t grab me thorugh my jeans. Looking me straight in the eye she undid my belt, pulled the fly buttons open in one yank, stuck her hand into my boxers, and wrapped her fingers around my shaft. She leaned into me, our foreheads together and she said, moaned, “Oh fuck I want this inside me tonight”, and started kissing me again. Fuck, she kissed incredibly. I thought it only fair to return the favour, so I unzipped her jeans, and slid my hand into her (proper) underwear. When my fingers found her slit, she was hot, and wet.

We spent no more than a minute, mutually stroking and fingering and kissing – it was incredible. She was working my cock with her hand as if her life depended on it, and I was finger fucking her soaking wet cunt with three fingers. And she was the one who came first. She started to “MMMMMMMM MMMMMMMM, MMMMMM” through our kiss, and bucked her hips against my hand.

When she stopped kissing me, started jerking against my hand, and bit my lip, moaning “UUNNNNHHHHHH” into my mouth, I lost it too. She bit me so fucking hard my lip bled. But it was more than worth it. I came hard, fucking her through her orgasm as she wanked me through mine.

She pulled back from the bite as our orgasms subsided, smiled beautifully up into my face, milked me dry with her hand, and moved back ever so slightly from my hand, so I slowly withdrew my fingers from her pussy. We kissed, gently, smiled at each other, and re-fastened each other’s jeans. She pulled the flag closer to us and I could feel her wiping her hands on the material. I wasn’t going to waste what I had, so I pulled my hand out of our shroud and licked my fingers, one at a time. She tasted superb, and I knew I was going to spend a lot of time that night getting more of the same.

When she was suitably composed, she unwrapped us, kissed me again, said, “see you soon”, and headed off in the general direction of her friends.

I nipped into the gents, took a leak, and headed back to my table.

To find my date waiting for me.

“I thought you’d fucked off with Bon Jovi” was my comment. And “Fuck, this could turn awkward” is all I could think. “Yes, he offered, but I know what I want tonight. If you want to go with Miss Canada, I can still go back and find him, but I want to go home with you”.

We only met twice after that evening, and what went on between the youngster and I was never discussed, so I don’t know what she saw, but now here I was with a HUGE dilemna. On the one hand I had a nineteen year old soaking wet and dying to be fucked, but she was a tourist, it would be a one-off. I liked my date. We had spent more than eight hours talking and we hit it off brilliantly. If I said I was going with the girl, I might blow my chance there. While I was mulling this over in my drink-addled brain, my date came over and started to kiss me again. Just as my new admirer came back.

She just smiled, said “oh well, it would have been fun, thank you anyway”, turned and wandered off.

I went home with the date. And we spent the next six hours fucking each other senseless.

But that’s another story…

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