Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2014 07:10:26 -0400
From: Carl
Subject: Cock Tale for Two (Irish Creme)

Cock Tale for Two (Irish Creme)

The party slowed down considerably after it's second hour. People were
leaving. I hung around because a guy in a group across the room caught my
interest. What tweeked me was his nifty beard. Exceedingly black and well
trimmed, it stood out in powerful contrast to an otherwise pale, well
shaven face. For some reason, I thought he looked Irish. I wasn't sure if
the woman at his side was a wife or girl friend until he held up his drink,
showing a gold banded finger. He smiled a lot while he chatted, but his
eyes darted about the room when he listened.

The beard was sort of Van Dykish, without coming to a point beneath his
chin. Instead, it followed the underside of his jawline, and around his
mouth, perhaps half an inch deep, with not a single hair out of place. I
tried to imagine how it would feel to have those soft whiskers caressing my
bare lips - a downy cushion, no doubt, probably scented with some nice
cologne.

As I passed closer on my way to the men's room, our eyes met briefly.
Nothing special. A little later, as I finished up at a urinal, he entered
and took a space a couple bowls to my left. I stood quietly for a moment,
hoping for a quick glimpse. He used his right hand to unzip, pulled out his
penis with the other, and held on to it. He then put the right back on his
hip, providing an excellent view. Whatever he wore for underwear must have
had a generous front opening, for he was clutching a bunch of black cock
hairs as well as the shaft, some about as long as the dick. When his urine
began to flow, I felt like warning him that his cock hairs could get wet,
but decorum prevailed, and I tucked myself in and stepped to the wash
basin. In the mirror, I could see his trousers quiver as he shook off the
last few drops. He followed me to the wash basins. Drying my hands gave me
a another chance to study his rather nice profile, without the penile
distractions.

He must have noticed my looking, because he extended a just dried hand.
"Hi, I'm Colin," he said flashing a broad smile.

"And I'm David," I answered, than added, "...Dave.."

"Well.....I'm just Colin. Nothing shorter."

"That's not so bad," I said. "Less chance for people to get phony
friendly."

My comment seemed to gather notice.

"Wow!" he said. ....."remind me, if I ever start slapping your back – to
stick with 'David'."

We laughed together, and left the john. "You know,' I said. "I had you
figured for an Irishman. I mean, even before you mentioned your name."

"Through and through," he answered, with hardened 'T's', and an exaggerated
Irish brogue. " 'Me mither' was named Coleen, and 'me pap' was Patrick
Muldoon." The 'doon' got stretched out and accented. "It's just luck they
didn't name me Colic!"

"And a good catholic boy, I'll bet - circumcised and all." I said, and
waited for a reaction.

"Aahh! So you did notice!," His face brightened, but then quickly clouded.
"I'm not so sure about the 'good' though. Kind of lost faith early on. Our
priest, God bless him, was into giving me blowjobs every week for a couple
years."

"Holy God!" I said, genuinely surprised. "Looks like you survived pretty
well, though."

"Survived? Are you kidding? I thrived! That old cocksucker gave such great
head I sailed right through puberty without jerkin' off! 'Masturbation was
sinful', he'd say, then suck me completely dry. I was the perfect altar
boy, but not for reasons people would normally expect. We had our private
communions in the sacristy, usually before early mass, when I was all
rested, and usually showered . They always ended very happily for me. Piety
was not my strong suit. Being horny was. The Bishop visited our parish a
couple times a year. I guess they were buddies, because the good Father,
knowing how keen I was for blow-jobs, offered me to the Bishop as well.
Those double headers in the rectory were great times, but pretty much
erased whatever faith I might have had left."

"So why are you telling me – a complete stranger – all this?" I
asked, feeling a definite thickening below.

"I thought it was kinda obvious, don't you?

"You're asking me for a blow-job?"

"Bingo!"

"Your wife doesn't, I take it."

"She knows the situation. Why I love getting blowed more than anything.
I've given her three nice kids to look after, but steady blowjobs aren't
part of her marriage vows. One good fuck a month seems fine with her, and I
make sure she gets it. In turn, she lets me prowl."

"That's amazing! I'm sorta glad I hung around long enough to talk. This
bullshit beats everything I've ever heard. You got one helluva line, even
for an Irishman."

"I agree -it is a good thing you hung. But it's really the truth. And I
just happen to be totally at peace with it. So what'd'ya say....Dave."

"You mean here.....now?"

"Sure. Back in one of the toilet booths. I'm game if you are."

We crammed into a booth, locked the door, and both dropped our pants and
underwear to the floor. I sat down, bare-assed on the stool and spread my
legs in order to allow him closer. As his naked torso neared my face, I
thought – no wonder the priest was so infatuated. If his crotch looked
anything like this at puberty, I'd be breaking my vows too!

The cock hair was so dense it totally hid his balls. There was damn near a
square foot of it, climbing up his abdomen, and spreading wide, and down
the insides of his thighs.. The hairs nearest the gleaming shaft were the
longest. His crotch looked so wild and macho, in contrast to his perfectly
trimmed beard, that I almost swooned. I pressed my forehead into his fuzzy
abdomen, so that my nose could penetrate the black forest below, and
inhaled. The scent was utterly captivating, I began licking my way down one
side, around the hairy balls, and up the other.

"Nice." he murmered, rubbing his stiff dick along the side of my
face. "Suck it, Dave!"

He grasped the top of my head with one hand, and his penis with the other,
and guided them together, toward my waiting mouth. As I opened wide, he
pressed inch after inch inside until it clogged my throat. He let go of his
shaft and added a second hand to my head, impaling me further.

"I can come quick, or take my time. Which do you want?" he announced.

With my mouth so full and nose buried in his bushy thicket, I was unable to
say anything intelligible. So I shook a pointed finger back and forth, like
I was likely to pass out if he didn't let me gulp some air.

He grabbed both ears and yanked me off his dick.

Between gasps, and drooling a bit, I answered him. "It doesn't make much
difference," I said. I wanted his cum – every fuckin drop -- no matter
when he came.

"Oh man!" he said, "You have no idea how happy that makes me. Too many
cocksuckers have all these rules and conditions before they'll do the
deed. I'm gonna fuck your face silly."

Before I could manage a reply, he shoved back in as deep as he could go. I
cupped both his cheeks, and began signaling when to ease out, and when to
go deeper. He caught on to my signals, and began following them nicely.  I
felt around for his hairy crack, and found enough moisture there to dampen
my fingers.

I worked my middle finger into his hole. He groaned in response. I added
two more and poked deeper. The moaning swelled. As my plunges increased in
speed and depth, he came quickly, with enough force to feel him coating my
tongue and throat. In the fifteen seconds or so it took for the orgasm to
subside, I vacuumed up every creamy drop.

He watched me lick him clean. "Would you believe, that's the first time in
years – since the Bishop, I think – that I allowed anyone's finger up
my ass. Consider yourself' special."

"Naah," I said, "I'm just a guy turned on by nice beards. I watch a
commercial with a guy that looks just like you, and he does it for me every
time."

He chuckled. "My wife sees all the attention I give it, and says it's my
real pussy – y'know, like I'm always fussin' over this hole with hair
around it. She might be right."

I imagined him regaling her with details of our encounter, how his
"pussy-beard" just snagged him another nice blow job. Maybe even a steady
cocksucker. Who knows? ...What the hell: If it went on for years with an
old suction mouth priest, with extras tossed in from time to time... why
not?

This hot little reverie ended when he reached for his pants, and hauled
them up.

"You wanta try this again, and maybe get it right next time?" he asked,
with a twinkle in his eye.

I told him I would, but only if he was willing – just once – to let
me kiss those well-coiffed pussy lips.

"As a rule, I don't kiss cocksuckers, but in your case, I'll consider it --
Shit, you've already been at my ass, so why the fuck not!"

"I'm so sorry about that."

"Like hell you are," he said, leaning in, closing his eyes for the kiss. It
turned into another mini orgy, with his busy tongue echoing the action of
his dick a few minutes earlier. When I started to shake, due to rather
vigorous masturbation on my part, his tongue and hairy lips lingered until
my full load popped.

It dawned on me, as the exit door slam slammed, and I was cleaning up, that
I probably just kissed the Blarney Stone, and hadn't even gotten a phone
number!