Irish Girls
by Gingerfred Man
Chapter One – The Flynn Sisters
Everyone in our Ohio town knows the Flynn sisters. There are five of us, named alphabetically so Mom and Daddy can remember who’s who. When I was finishing up my seventh grade year, fifteen years ago, Mary Alice was 17, Mary Beth 16, Mary Clare 15, Mary Denise 14 and Mary Ellen, that’s me, I was 13.
We’re pretty close together in age, you see. Mary Denise and I are even "Irish twins," which means we were born to the same mother in the same calendar year, from different pregnancies.
When someone pointed that out to Mom, she told Daddy that he had better have things "taken care of" or she would take a butcher knife to him and do it herself. Daddy was about to point out that what she was asking was a sin against the Holy Church, but Daddy hadn’t lived all those years with Mom not to know when she was serious. So after me, Daddy had things "taken care of." Poor Daddy. He wanted to go all the way through to Mary Zelda, but Mom didn’t even want to have a Mary Frances or a Mary Grace. Instead, he’s been "firing blanks" at Mom ever since.
A lot of blanks. Mom and Daddy still acted like teenagers around each other. And they were ancient! Almost 39 and 38 when I was ending seventh grade! But they still went to bed early every night. And it wasn’t because they liked to watch Johnny Carson. My sisters and I always giggled at the noises behind Mom and Daddy’s door every night. And every morning. And sometimes during the night.
I hoped I would still like sex when I’m was an old lady of 38 like Mom was.
Mary Alice said they were so "horny" because being around us so much always got Daddy all excited. He certainly had a lumpy lap when each of us sat on it to give him a sweet, goodnight kiss in our nighties before we went to bed. Right after the last kiss, Daddy would rush Mom upstairs and close the door. But who knows if Mary Alice was right? Although she has always thought she’s right about everything.
Everyone in town said we were lovely girls and they were right. There weren’t five sisters as beautiful on either side of the Atlantic. And men and boys have always noticed.
Daddy tried to keep the male population at bay. Whenever one of us girls brought a boy to the house, Daddy always made sure he was cleaning a rifle or a shotgun as he was explaining how he wanted the boy to behave. But serious threats of mere death or dismemberment were never enough to discourage nice boys who lusted after us Flynn girls.
What made us special, you ask? We were and are all heartbreakingly pretty and sweet. We’re intensely feminine and dress like sexy angels. We all have C or D-Cup titties on our slim, girlish bodies and we have pretty, tight little bottoms to die for. We’re very friendly to boys and try very hard to keep the boys "happy." We’re interesting conversationalists and have great personalities. All the girls like us. And we all have pretty cocks and pink bags filled with balls and swishing with hot cum.
Chapter Two – How it all happened
Mom and Daddy were married 18 years ago before this story began in a huge Irish-American wedding with 500 thirsty guests. Both were virgins, thereby avoiding the sins of the flesh. But they caught on fast. Mary Alice was born almost nine months to the day after the wedding.
Everyone told Mom that she would have a boy because Daddy was the youngest of twelve Flynn boys and Mom was the only girl of eleven Sweeneys.
But Mom and Daddy knew that they would have a girl, no matter what anyone said. Before or after the birth.
They were of like mind in that they only wanted to raise girls. Daddy was the smallest of his family, only five-six, and was picked on by his platoon of larger, all-older brothers. Mom was tired of being around all those men in her family.
They didn’t check with Father O’Reilly, their pastor at the time, to see if raising a boy as a girl would be a sin. They didn’t care what their parents and siblings said. They just took the baby that the hospital said was a boy (Mary Alice) home and raised her as a girl. Mom kept thinking succeeding babies would be born girls, but when they weren’t, she and Daddy were undeterred. They just kept raising us as girls.
After a very brief time, the families, the neighbors and the whole town, just accepted us lovely, sweet children as girls. Mom found an excellent doctor who gave us the hormones we needed at an early age and ever since then, so we would develop four-star, girlish bodies. And Mom, with 40-D boobs and an hourglass figure, and long, sexy legs despite her five-five height, passed on excellent genes. It was our good fortune that the tallest of us, Mary Clare, was only five-seven.
I was the beneficiary of those genes too, and at 13, I was on my way to "having the body of a porn star," as Mary Beth said about me. I was at my full height, five-six and already sporting 38-Cs. I could tell my sisters were jealous. Goodie!
Daddy took tons of pictures of us growing up, and still does. He has a whole corner of the basement filled with albums of us doing all kinds of things, including just looking cute. In the pictures, we’re wearing our frilly dresses with petticoats and our Mary Janes with frilly socks. We’re cuter than speckled puppies in every picture and anyone who saw us or the albums would know what a horrible waste it would have been to raise us as boys. Ick!
Did I tell you about the one boy area of our bodies? As I mentioned, Mom passed on the genes that gave us sexy girlish bodies. Daddy apparently had a pretty good set of genes in him too, because all the Flynn girls have very healthy cocks!
Mary Denise has the smallest cock in the family – only seven inches! Mary Alice and Mary Clare’s are half an inch bigger and Mary Beth’s and my ticklers are slightly bigger than that. <Giggle>
All of us Flynn girls have big ball bags too. And despite all the hormones we gratefully take every day, we make tons of cum and have never have a problem getting stiffies. All it takes is one impure thought and my panties are crowded. And I have a lot of impure thoughts.
You’re probably saying, how can we know all this about each other’s bodies? Well you can just forget those impure thoughts about the Flynn girls "doing" each other. We’re good girls!
We have always gossiped about boys, and we are very competitive, though. So we told each other everything. And of course, we told Father Murphy everything in confession every Saturday. Father Murphy always seemed very happy when he saw the five of us lined up for confession. After the last one of was given our penance, he would run back to the rectory very quickly to do something urgent.
OK, well, we did touch and kiss each other a little now and then. But only in times of sexual duress. Or in an instructional mode. You know.
Anyway, we don’t mess around within the family. Although I have confessed to my sisters about impure thoughts regarding Daddy. He’s so sweet and masculine and I love him so much. But I would never actually do anything. To my surprise, my four sisters all said they had dreamed about daddy too. Hmmm.
Mary Beth said one day when she was eleven, Daddy had to discipline her. Daddy did spank us now and then, but only when we REALLY deserved it. To tell the truth, I kind of liked getting spanked by Daddy. He was so masterful!
Anyway, Mary Beth had sassed Mom, called her a name, and said she hated Mom. Nobody does that to Mom and avoids Daddy’s wrath. So Daddy was going to give her the strap! That was the only time Daddy ever used anything but his hand on us, but he was flaming mad and Mary Beth was in for it. Daddy dragged a screaming, crying, begging-for-mercy Mary Beth to the master bedroom, pulled her panties down and off and pulled his belt off. Mary Beth knew she had better submit to the spanking and knew she deserved it. But they were both in for a big surprise.
When Daddy took his belt off, his pants fell down. Mary Beth gasped to see that Daddy’s cock had escaped from the fly of his boxers and was standing skinned and proud in Mary Beth’s full view.
Daddy’s cock was apparently enflamed by his anger or the prospect of spanking Mary Beth or both. Mary Beth fixed her gaze on Daddy’s big boy and, she told us all, was amazed at its size. Of course Mary Beth was young, so any cock looked big. But Daddy, it seemed, made up for his lack of height in other ways.
Daddy was so embarrassed that he covered up, pulled his pants up and gave Mary Beth the standard, bare-bottom, over-the-knee, hand spanking. Mary Beth didn’t even cry. All she could think about was what a hunk Daddy was.
Mom agreed. Mom and Daddy were really in love. Like almost every Irish family, Mom was the boss, but allowed Daddy to think he was.
Daddy was the dreamer. Mom was sensible.
Daddy thought we were all virgins. Mom knew better.
Daddy did things like put iron bars on our bedroom windows. Not so we couldn’t escape. So boys couldn’t climb in. Daddy didn’t consider that while the boys couldn’t slip between the bars, their cocks could.
Mom gave us a lot of practical advice about boys and men and sex. She knew that we had girls’ bodies and boys’ sex drives, the absolute worst (or best) combination. So she tried to help us negotiate the unique minefields of being a Flynn teenage girl.
Mom knew that we couldn’t get pregnant, but our hearts could be broken by mean boys, so she taught us to be nice to nice boys and nice boys only. "Leave the bad guys to the girls with two pussies,’ Mom would always say.
Mom called other girls, "Two-pussy girls." She said they had one more pussy than us, but didn’t have our glorious cocks. Most of them never even used "the best pussy God gave them," the wise woman said. She said that those girls used the pussy that got them pregnant and wasn’t as tight and satisfying to men. It was clear to us that Mom had used both of hers to best advantage with Daddy.
She told us all about satisfying boys and men, but rejecting the ones who are too selfish to care about our pleasure.
We taught each other a lot about sex too. Sex was a very big topic of discussion with us. And we had a lot to discuss.
Sometimes I think that it must have been difficult for Mary Alice, being the trailblazer and everything. But I know Mom helped her and they’re very close. She’s always had the privileges of the eldest. Mary Alice gets her own room in our four-bedroom house, while Mary Beth and Mary Clare share a room and I’m roomies with Mary Denise. It must be nice to be Mary Alice, Queen of the May and Daddy’s Darlin’. But being eldest has its drawbacks too. I know Mary Alice has caught h-e-hockey sticks from Mom and Daddy when the other four of us have been unruly. She’s kind of like an assistant parent.
So that was how we lived in the Flynn house. I had very few complaints.
Chapter Three – A Day in the Life
On Mother’s Day, when I was finishing seventh grade, I was 13 and still a virgin. Technically. I had sucked several male cocks. Several. And I had had lots of sex with my girlfriends. But no cock had penetrated my pink, perfect, heart-shaped bottom.
There were plenty of applicants. The boys in our town had figured out that they could only expect "oral" from a Flynn girl until she was in eighth grade. It was a good rule, which bossy Mary Alice said was Mom’s idea. Maybe not, but we all observed it. There was some discussion about whether the restriction ended when we were promoted to eighth grade or when we actually began it. But Mary Clare and Mary Denise assured me that they had applied the more liberal interpretation.
As we dressed for 11 a.m. Mass at Saint Immaculata’s that Mother’s Day, it was the usual frantic rush. Our home had only two-and-a-half baths, which was child abuse as far as we were concerned. Mom and Daddy hogged one bathroom all to themselves; so instead of the two hours bathroom time we each needed every morning, we had about ten minutes.
Somehow we all managed to get ready and the results were, as always, spectacular. Pretty dresses, stockings and heels on incredible, beautiful bodies. Big, perfect hair and lovely make-up on gorgeous faces. We all gave Daddy a dazzling smile as we entered the minivan and, as always, his heart was filled with joy. What man doesn’t want beautiful daughters? It’s the greatest wealth on earth.
Father Murphy stood outside and greeted us as we came in. I had never seen a priest greet people as they entered church, only as they left. But he seemed to have a particular affection for us girls.
Of course we Flynn girls had an…ahem…particular affection for Father Murphy too. The poor man had a lonely life and we had a giving nature. It’s funny how none of us discussed Father Murphy among ourselves, but we were all kind enough to help a good man now and then.
It was a pleasant Mass. I always enjoyed it because Father Murphy talked about love and forgiveness and acceptance of people who are different. I guess we Flynns had had a positive influence on Father Murphy.
We were so proud of our Mom, on that Mother’s Day and every day. She was beautiful and smart, a great wife and perfect mother. We loved her deeply and forever. And told her so several times every day.
That day, after Mass, we stood in the church courtyard and chatted with lots of boys and their Dads, who never seemed to have anything better to do. Mary Denise would graduate from Saint Immaculata’s School in a few weeks and I would be a big-time eighth grader. My three oldest sisters were a freshman, sophomore and junior at Saint Patrick’s High School across town.
Dad had made reservations for us all at a restaurant Mom liked a few miles away. We all piled in the minivan to go. About 40 boys and men looked ready to give up everything to climb in the van with us. Including Father Murphy.
Every head turned when Daddy escorted the six prettiest women in Ohio into the restaurant. And we felt the hot stares of boys and men every moment of the meal.
In other words, an average outing for our family.
We got home about four p.m. and Mom thanked and kissed us all. Then she told us to "go get some fresh air in your lungs."
I thought she and Daddy had plans.
We went to our rooms and changed out of our pretty dresses into our everyday clothes. I put on a plaid, pleated micro-mini that showed my tan-stockinged legs off to perfection. I switched from my five-inch stiletto fuck-me pumps to my three-inch strappy red sandals. Over my head, I slid a tight white blouse that showed off my heartbreaker titties to full advantage.
Did I have a date? No. That was how I always dressed, Silly.
Flynn girls did not dress like homeless men. We dressed to thrill all the time. Except when we were in our school uniforms.
I left the house and turned left, then walked two blocks to my friend Erica's house. Every man in every house along the route was watering his flowers as I walked by. And some of them didn’t even have flowers. They all greeted me by name and I gave them the Flynn girl smile. Which should have given them at least a month's worth of masturbation fantasies. <Giggle>
I arrived at Erica’s house and her Dad greeted me warmly. Too warmly for Erica's Mom, who appeared and stood between me and her husband. She smiled and said, "Erica's in her room, Mary Ellen."
I smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Kane. And happy Mother’s Day to you."
Mrs. Kane smiled. We Flynn girls are known for our politeness.
And our randiness. I hadn’t cum all day and was desperate for relief when I knocked on Erica’s door and was asked to come in.
Erica was my classmate and best friend and she was very pretty. Not Flynn-pretty, but who is? She had long, dark hair, a sweet face and a very nice body.
She was very happy to see me. I could tell because she ran to me and threw her arms around me. She kissed me, sticking her tongue down my throat, and reached under my skirt to stroke my big cock.
We had been having sex for about six months and the poor girl was, I thought, helplessly in love with me. I told her about girls like me needing to share ourselves with several people, but she had it bad for me.
She had been stroking her enflamed clitoris in anticipation of seeing me and her panties were already sopping wet with the results of at least two cums.
We were both very aroused as she shimmied down her panties and got on her back on her girlish bed. I pulled my panties down and off, freeing my cock for some good work. The love-struck sweetheart was squealing softly and begging me to put it in her. I did. It slid in as if it were made for the enclosure.
Oh, her front pussy was slick with her cuntal juices and she massaged my cock very nicely with her vaginal muscles. We kissed with glossed, hungry lips as I gave her long, deep strokes, telling her how sweet and pretty she was.
The poor girl came with great force in less than a minute, then again two minutes later. I wished we were both naked, as we were on our frequent sleepovers, but this would do.
The third time her front pussy convulsed, I joined her, thanking her mother in my mind for having the sense to put the little angel on the pill.
My poor, deprived-for-hours balls pumped girlish cum up and out of my tingling cock and into my friend's wet canal. She was crying with joy and love.
I seem to have that effect on people.
We couldn’t do all the things we wanted to for risk of discovery, but Erica seemed to be beyond caring. She fell to her knees, licked my balls and sucked my big girl to another hardstand. Then she lay down on her stomach and offered me her rear pussy, which she had thoughtfully lubed for me before I arrived.
Erica had a lovely bottom and I was struck by the fact that in a few short weeks, I would be the one offering my pink treasure to the boy or man of my choice. Mmmmm.
I kissed the soft globes of her ass, making the angel purr with pleasure. Then I placed the wet tip of my leaking cock at her rosette and pushed, gently but firmly.
Erica always seemed surprised when she first felt my cock enter her rear pussy. She adored being fucked there and had entertained my little friend dozens of times. I was grateful that she had a sense of hungry wonder about it all.
My big rammer felt so good in her bowels, that I joined Erica in making little, girlish squeals. I loved being a big-cocked, pretty girl.
We made it last a long time, but when I saw Erica getting close, I reached around her waist and found her inch-high, red clit. I twirled it between my fingers as I fucked her pretty bottom and made her cum as if she were having a seizure. Then I filled her tight hole with another big load of sticky cream.
When it was over, I withdrew and watched my cum drool from her bottom onto her marvelous thighs and down to her pretty white stockings. I was getting hard again thinking of how nice it would be to have Ben Venutto’s cum oozing out of my bottom like that.
Yes, he was my choice. A year older and Mary Denise’s classmate. Very handsome and very nice. We had been in student government and the yearbook together. Always nice to me and never asking for anything in return. I had never even kissed him or touched his cock. I decided then that Ben would be my first. If he would have me.
Yeah. Like he would turn me down. Unless he was gay. Which that trampy Mary Denise assured me he was not. She claimed she didn’t know from experience, but had heard that he liked girls a lot.
Erica noticed my Ben-induced stiffie and she wanted it. That time in her mouth. I thought about Ben as Erica sucked me deliciously and milked my balls to a very satisfying conclusion.
Erica licked me clean. We kissed a lot. Then we sprayed the cum-scented room to smell like wildflowers. In a field of cum.
I freshened my make-up, straightened my clothes, said goodbye to the Kanes, and went home for a light dinner.
I wiggled home, my balls drained for the nonce, and giggled to myself at the men who were watering and waving hello to me.
There was a rumor going around that the family who lived next door to us on the side that faced our bedrooms had been offered three million dollars for their house. And turned it down. Maybe it was just a rumor.
I got home at six-thirty and Mom and Daddy had finished their "business" upstairs. Mom was humming happily as she made tuna salad for dinner. My sisters came in one-by-one over the next ten minutes and I could tell that they had all had deeply satisfying carnal experiences over the past two hours.
That was pretty easy if you were a Flynn girl.
Chapter Four – Flashing Back to a Big Day
The first cock I ever sucked was Anthony Rizzo’s. We were both twelve and were just finishing our sixth-grade year.
The funny thing was, Anthony didn’t even come on to me. He was young and innocent. And Italian. Irish girls can’t resist Italian boys. It must be nature’s way of spreading out Catholic genes or something. Did you ever notice how many of those matches there are?
Lots of other boys had come on to me, though. Lots.
I remember going to a boy-girl, tenth birthday for Erica. It was the last year we all wore those pretty, girlie party dresses with all the fluffy petticoats. I had those cute frilly socks and had my hair in a barrette. I have pictures. I was adorable. Trust me. Anyway, even then, boys went crazy when they saw me. Billy Evans tried to kiss me. I let him. It was very nice. Then he pressed his luck, reaching under my dress and trying to put his hand into my panties. I was sorry Mrs. Kane had to take him to the emergency room. But not sorry I put him there.
We Flynn girls like sex on our terms.
I know I digress a lot when I’m telling a story. But it’s interesting, isn’t it? I’ll bet you’d like to sit me on your lap and have me tell you in person. That would be nice, but remember what happened to Billy Evans.
Back to Anthony. He was very cute. Dark, with clear blue eyes. I was just really getting my titties then, and they were almost a B-cup already. Anthony was nice to me and talked to me in school as if I were a real person and not just some fuck bunny.
Most of the boys in my class were always getting their knuckles cracked or ears pulled by Sister Agatha Perpetua or the other teachers for ogling me or acting like fools to get my attention. Boys sometimes just don’t get it.
One day, I had brought my science project to school. It was big and Mom drove me to school that morning, but told me I would have to make my own way home with it since she would be visiting Grandma that afternoon.
Mom was pretty sure that I could get a boy to carry it for me.
Anthony was the boy.
He was happy to help, but didn’t drool all over me. I liked that. So much that I asked him to carry the project into the house and up to the room I shared with Mary Denise, who, thankfully, had glee club that afternoon.
Daddy was at work, Mom with Grandma, and my sisters didn’t care who I brought in that afternoon or ever. They were off getting their ashes hauled elsewhere.
It appeared it would be Anthony’s lucky day. And mine.
He huffed and puffed a little, but got the science project into my closet. When he turned around he got a very nice surprise.
I was standing there in just my bra and panties. And smiling sweetly.
Anthony was innocent, but could add two and two. The fine young man said, "You’re beautiful, Mary Ellen!"
A polite boy. I let him take the lead. I nodded, thanked him, smiled shyly, batted my long lashes and pouted my glossed lips for a kiss.
We kissed. And kissed. And exchanged tongues. Mmmmm.
Anthony caressed my back and wanted, I could tell, to unhook my bra, but didn’t want to offend me. I moved matters along by unhooking it myself, freeing my delicious pair for his adoration.
And adore them he did. I had never had my nipples kissed and licked and I was in erotic heaven when he loved each pointy jewel in turn.
I was very surprised that just that nipple stimulation was making my tee tees (testicles) rumble. Anthony could tell that I liked it, but wasn’t sure what to do next. I guess he understood me when I moaned and begged that he stroke my cock. Or he just took a chance.
Anthony became the first boy to successfully reach into my panties. He stopped licking my nipples a moment to admire my Amazon warrior. She was big even then and drooling large amounts of sticky sperm. He looked at my beautiful face and took a very big leap.
Anthony Rizzo abandoned my nipples and began to lavish equivalent oral adoration on my gooey cockhead! His hand was caressing my balls much more nicely than Mary Denise did when we would cuddle some nights and talk about sex.
He was driving me wild! I began to squeal and that scared him, I thought. But he resumed when I assured him he was doing quite nicely. He was the first boy to ever suck my cock (although my girlfriends had been doing so since I was eleven.) He was very good at it, because as a boy, he knew what felt good.
I was close to the edge of the cum cliff when his forgotten other hand entered the fray. His middle finger lightly teased the tight sphincter of my "pussy." No one had ever touched me there and I reacted as if I had been cattle prodded with love.
I screamed like a banshee (an Irish term, you know) and began to hurl cum into the poor boy’s loving mouth. Glob after glob burst from my balls and spurted from my red peehole. I was reciting prayers of thanks for the glorious gift of sex. Anthony was gagging but smiling too.
"Oh, you marvelous boy," I said. And drew him to me for a deep, cummy kiss. I thought I would be the one sucking his cock, but the lad took the initiative away from me.
I grabbed it back. Kissing Anthony sweetly, I said, "Sit up, please, Anthony. On the side of the bed here."
The lad complied eagerly. Moments later, I was on my knees in carnal subjugation to my first male. I felt as if I were made for the role. I pulled his pants and boxers down and saw his very fine cock. Not as big as mine, but I was to find that almost no one’s was. I kissed it sweetly and Anthony moaned. I licked each ball, slowly and sloppily, as my friend Cindy did for me at our last pajama party at her house. Anthony really liked that. I thought his balls were delicious. I had eaten lots of pussy, but cock was my destiny.
Keeping eye contact, I took the whole head of Anthony’s cock into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, paying particular, loving attention to the underside part where the pink head comes to an arrow point. Anthony was standing on the same cummy cliff where I had been minutes before. I began to move my head up and down on his cock like a piston. His cock was slick with my saliva and his tasty drippings. The poor boy was overmatched. He grunted manfully, said, "You’re beautiful, Mary Ellen," and spurted his boyish cream into my hungry mouth.
Six thick globs of what he later swore was his virgin cum. And the first I had tasted.
I LOVED it!!!!! I loved everything about cum. Its texture. Its creamy color. Its gooey sliminess. Its taste. But most of all, I loved the fact that boys gave it in tribute to my beauty and sexiness.
I swallowed it all and wanted more. I wanted a lifetime of cum down my throat, in my bottom, on my face and all over my tummy. Between my titties and all over my nipples. On my feet and between my pretty toes. But not in my hair. Big hair is a lot of work, especially in a bathroom-challenged family.
In my life, I’ve always had all the cum I needed. And I’ve needed a lot.
But not with Anthony.
We were only able to have ten more love sessions after that wonderful day. His father was transferred to California and the family left.
I cried for a whole 20 minutes when he left. Then Mary Alice said, "Do you really think you’re going to sit home alone because your boyfriend moved? You’re a Flynn for Pete's sake. Snap out of it.
So I did.
I had too much to give to the men of the world to crawl into a shell. I mean, I did cry for 20 whole minutes. That was pretty long, right?
Chapter Five – Saint Immaculata’s
The day after that seventh-grade Mother’s Day, I was up a 6:30 and fighting for bathroom space with my hoggy sisters. The rule was, everyone got to pee, but everything else was survival of the fittest. Mary Alice was the pushiest and usually got the whole, big bathroom while Mary Beth hogged the half bath downstairs. Mary Clare, Mary Denise and I would usually go downstairs in our nighties for breakfast with Mom and Daddy while they primped.
I often wondered if Daddy didn’t add bathrooms because he wouldn’t have seen us in our nighties as much. But he wouldn’t do that would he?
That morning, Mom was cooking rashers of bacon, thick, greasy sausage patties, fried eggs, home fries and toast. We Irish love our breakfast. She also had put together huge lunch bags for each of us. We Flynn girls ate a lot and never gained a pound. Mom always says that sex burns up a lot of calories. She and Daddy have always been very slim.
Daddy read his paper and took little peeks at his three youngest girls. I loved sitting next to Daddy and letting my nightie ride up almost to my pink package. He’s so much fun to tease!
When Her Majesty Queen Mary Alice arrived in her high school uniform, maroon plaid jumper, white blouse, white knee socks, black and white saddle shoes, I thought for the hundredth time that only a Flynn girl could look good in that outfit.
The uniform was so drab and sexless, just like the Church’s whole attitude. Why did the Church fight sexual human nature so fiercely? The Church has wasted billions of megawatts of spiritual energy over the centuries trying to keep everyone from having sex except for massive procreation. Imagine if that energy were redirected to matters of love and acceptance.
Sitting next to Daddy also put me closest to the door by the kitchen, so when I saw Mary Alice. I tore up the stairs and got the big bathroom all to myself. It was almost as good as sex.
I hogged the big bathroom much longer than was fair, then got dressed in the Saint Immaculata’s School uniform – a white blouse and black and red plaid skirt, white knee socks and penny loafers. No make-up except for a hint of lipstick.
I played it straight, even wearing my skirt at regulation length, but still managed to look like every guy’s fuck dream.
School was fun for me. I loved to learn and I was wildly popular. I was a good girl and the teachers liked me. Even the nuns. The two male teachers in our school, Mr. O’Leary and Mr. Fagan, were extra nice to me. And my sisters before me.
Mr. Fagan taught English to the 6th, 7th and 8th grades. Mr. O’Leary taught science to all grades.
I often wondered why two smart guys like them would teach for Catholic school wages. I figured it out a year later when I realized that they started teaching when Mary Alice was in fifth grade and both left the day after I graduated.
Like a lot of men, they were happy to be breathing the same air as the Flynn girls.
Like the other girls in school, I fantasized about having sex with Mr. O’Leary and Mr. Fagan. Other than Father Murphy, our Dads and our friends’ Dads, the male teachers were really the only men we saw a lot of. I remember daydreaming sometimes during English class about Mr. Fagan licking out my "pussy" then putting his big thing into me. We were always in some beautiful hotel suite on a tropical island and the trade winds were blowing the curtains as Mr. Fagan ripped off his shirt and "took" me. I thought about Mr. O’Leary too, but he was never as forceful as Mr. Fagan. He and I would just be like, dating or something and then we would be in the movies and he would take out his thing and I would sit on it. I couldn’t even muster up a good fantasy for Mr. O’Leary.
Anyway, I was having my usual wonderful day until IT happened.
I stayed after school to help sister Margaret Patricia get some of her stuff straightened out and all was well until we were finished and she asked me to take a box of books to the library. It was about 4:30 and the school was deserted. I didn’t expect to hear the unmistakable sounds of two people fucking when I walked into the library stacks.
It was clearly none of my business and I was backing out to leave them alone when the girl squealed in orgasm.
I would know that squeal anywhere. It was Erica. What the….? Then I heard her scream, "Bennnnnnnn!!"
That little tramp. She was fucking the boy I had picked out as my cherry popper. And I had shared my intentions with her, my former best friend.
I didn’t confront them, but I stood in the hallway and surprised the two slimeballs as they slithered out of the library. I didn’t say a word, but they knew I knew it all about them. And I knew that I needed a new best friend and a new gentleman to pluck my flower.
Mr. Ben Venutto would also be blacklisted by all the Flynn girls. No one breaks one of our hearts and gets another sister in the sack. That mutt would be limited to two-pussy girls for the rest of his miserable life. Hmmppphhh.
Chapter Six – Grand Opening
Flynn girls look forward, not back, but as I turned and walked away from the library and down the hall, I was crying. Not in front of Erica and Ben, may they be inflicted with subdermal leeches. Oh no. I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. But I was sobbing audibly when I turned the corner and bumped headlong into – Mr. Fagan.
What was he doing there? Well, of course he was a teacher and he was doing after-school teacher stuff.
He was visibly concerned to see my distress.
"What’s the matter, Mary Ellen?" the nice man asked. "I hate to see you crying."
Flynn girls’ tears turn men into globs of putty.
I didn’t say anything; I just sobbed harder and buried my wet face into his chest.
We were standing by the door of his room, so we went in. He sat and offered me a chair.
I chose his lap.
Mr. Fagan held me closely and listened to my tale of teenage betrayal. Being on a roll, I told him about the inadequate bathroom situation at my house and the bossiness of my four older sisters. I really didn’t have one other thing to complain about in my life, but he listened the way a man is supposed to – with unquestioning sympathy and no suggestions about how to resolve anything.
Which is the most powerful aphrodisiac we ladies have ever encountered.
You hear that baloney about "it just happened" all the time. "I didn’t mean to cheat on my wife with 61 women over 26 years. It just happened." Or how about, "I didn’t mean to shoot my husband 73 times with my Uzi, your honor. It just happened."
But what happened next with Mr. Fagan, just happened. Really.
I don’t even know who started it, but I found myself naked except for my white socks, sitting on a naked Mr. Fagan’s lap stroking his big cock and sticking my tongue down his throat. It just happened.
That wasn’t the way I wanted my fantasy to happen. Where were the trade winds? And I didn’t even have my make-up or lingerie on. Not even stockings. If I didn’t have my titties and my beautiful face, he would have rejected me, I’ll bet.
Mr. Fagan seemed to be really accepting as I stroked his very nice big boy. I was just about to tell him that I would suck his cock but couldn’t have any s-e-x until after the term, when he stood me up, turned me around and buried his face in my girlish bottom.
I screamed. Thank goodness no one was around. I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t even bathed that morning and had made number two at lunchtime. I didn’t think I was very clean back there. I was so embarrassed. And hugely, erotically excited.
My big girl was red, stiff and throbbing as Mr. Fagan licked and kissed and sucked out my world-class, but dirty, bottom. He was incredible! And the feelings were driving me crazy with pleasure.
I squealed in girlish desperation as the wonderful man ate my pussy with skill and wild abandon. I groaned that I was going to cum, but all he did was keep eating, cover my cock with his manly hand, milk me to a glorious cum, then lick his hand clean.
Wow!
It appeared that my schedule had been moved up a bit. Rules are made to be broken, Mary Clare likes to say. And so are "cherries."
If we were caught, I had the perfect excuse. It just happened.
Mr. Fagan moved me over to his desk and had me grip it and bend over. I was scared. His cock looked so big for my little pooper. But I was wet and loose. Soaked in fact. And stiff as pure alcohol.
I whimpered in fear and lust, which excited my beau all the more. He aimed his weapon and pushed slowly into what future generations of men would describe as a holiday in heaven. And he landed there first.
It was so big and hot and hard. It hurt a little and I felt as if I needed to poop really badly. But that passed. I was a woman! Or so I thought. Growing up involves a lot more than fucking. But it felt like something I wanted to do every day for the rest of my life.
I seemed to be quite good at fucking. At least Mr. Fagan thought so. My internal heat and little muscle movements, combined with my beauty, innocence and the total illegality of the act, had the poor man cumming too quickly for my liking or his. He was very nice, though, turning me around and sucking my cock to two delicious ball-buster orgasms. Then kissing me very sweetly.
We realized that it was after six and panicked briefly. But we got ourselves together and he drove me home by dinnertime. It appeared that no one was the wiser.
Appearances were wrong.
After we did the dishes that night, Mary Alice quietly said, "So you got fucked today, did you?"
My face turned white. Was it that obvious?
Mary Alice smiled. "I’m the eldest, remember? And I’m not blind. It’s written all over your face. And don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. None of us made it to the end of seventh grade. Not even Mom."
My blood raced. "Does Mom know?"
Mary Alice hugged me and said, "She’s the one who pointed it out to me. Now tell me. How was it? And, oh, yeah, who was it?"
I love being a Flynn girl.
Chapter Seven – Prom Night and the Wallflowers
In the next couple of weeks, I came to love my new, ahem, offerings I had for the luckiest of Ohio’s males.
I didn’t enjoy sneaking around so Mr. Fagan could fuck me. But I did enjoy the fucking. Mr. Fagan said I had a body made for love. He was always telling me I was a perfect angel. I found a way to slip into his apartment at least once a week and we always fucked for hours on his king-sized bed. He said he bought that bed hoping that one day I would be in it with him. Wasn’t that a nice thing to say? If it was a lie, it was a very sweet one.
I was much more comfortable teasing and pleasing Mr. Fagan in my sexy clothes and pretty lingerie, but he would have made love to me if I had showed up dressed to play football. He would have kissed my shoulderpads and massaged my cleats. The poor guy had it bad for me.
He and I both knew that we wouldn’t last long. At my age, such an affair was instructional. So he was enjoying it while he could. And I learned a lot from him.
He was a gentle but hungry lover. A little scared of exposure, but if he knew he would be exposed if he had one more love session with me, he would have taken that session.
A girl has to admire such devotion.
He also knew that I would be offering my sweet pussy to boys closer to my age, including Rico Grazzi, a ninth-grader who lived five houses west of us and had been "interested" in me since he was 12 and I was ten. Rico’s devotion deserved a sweet reward and he and I shared some lovely exchanges of bodily fluids.
Mom, I’m sure, had this all figured out. And if I had hooked up with multiple felons or woman beaters, she would have pulled me away by the ears. But, thank goodness, I had the Flynn sense in men and my sisters kept an eye on things as well.
I was feeling pretty good about things until my annual night of envy arrived. The senior prom at Saint Patrick’s High School.
Mom had another one of her silly rules about us actually being in high school before we could go to the senior prom.
That is so lame. I was only five years younger than the 34 seniors who asked me to their prom and Mom made me turn them all down! Seniors had been asking me to the prom since I was eleven.
And poor Mary Denise was only two weeks from being promoted to high school and she couldn’t even go that year.
Arrrrrrrgggghh!
Mary Clare, of course, was strutting around, lording it up over us younger girls, because she was now old enough to accept one of her 54 (she said) invitations.
Hmmph. If that’s all the invitations I get when I’m Mary Clare’s age, I’ll become a nun!
Mary Alice, Mary Beth and Mary Clare had all gotten beautiful dresses and, yes, I’ll admit it, they all looked like princesses. Princesses any heterosexual man on earth with a palpitating testicle would want to fuck until they both passed out.
They were, in fact, delicious!
Mary Clare and Mary Alice and I are blondes, although we all get a little help from Mr. Andre at his salon. Mary Beth is a heartbreaking brunette and Mary Denise has dazzling red hair. We all have lots of hair too. Mary Alice always said long hair looked best on a pillow and I finally figured out what she meant by that about a year earlier. I liked long hair because it was very feminine and I loved anything girlie. I had it done in ringlets, which is another reason I needed more bathroom time!
The three princesses’ hair was perfectly styled. Their prom dresses accented their sexy curves. Their make-up made them beyond beautiful.
I hated to admit it, but my looking at them made my cock stiff and drippy. My own sisters.
Anyway, poor Mary Denise and I had to admit to the three of them that they looked beautiful. Mary Alice was so sweet sometimes. She took me into the bathroom, reached under my skirt and into my panties and racked me off to a beautiful cum. She kissed me and said, "We all get that way sometimes looking at each other. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. As you leave, please send Mary Denise in here."
She was a pretty good sister. For a bossy dictator.
I was so envious. They would be the queens of the prom. Every boy would be ogling them and wishing he had a Flynn sister instead of his date.
And I wouldn’t even be able to go for two more years!
Mary Denise left the bathroom, followed soon by Mary Alice. She seemed a lot more mellow. Mary Alice had an excellent stroke.
At 6:30, three boys who were still reeling with joy at their selection arrived at the house.
Daddy wouldn’t allow any of us to ride in cars with boys, so the boys pitched in for a limo.
The boys made obeisance to Mom and Daddy and we checked them out. I was proud of my sisters. Those guys were not the best-looking, studliest seniors in school. They were the nicest, sweetest and most loving. We Flynns care about what counts.
But the boys were human and Mary Denise and I couldn’t resist wiggling around the living room a little, teasing them with our pretty bottoms and killer smiles. We were the appetizers.
They ignored us and popped to attention when the main courses arrived. Mary Alice, Mary Beth and Mary Clare ignited the room.
Daddy’s pants were lumpy and his heart was full as he watched his girls head off to a night of dancing and chaste fun. As far as Daddy knew. Mom knew better.
So there we were. It was 7 o’clock on a Saturday night in May and the only company I had was my wallflower sister and parents.
There was only one thing to do. Something almost as good as sex. I was going to hog the bathroom. For hours.
I was going to draw a hot bath and lie in it for an hour. Wash and dry my hair. Paint my toenails. Maybe even give myself an enema to be really fresh for Rico Grazzi, who was meeting me in the park the next day after Mass.
Oh the decadence of two complete hours in the bathroom.
Mary Denise saw I had a plan. I didn’t want her stealing the bathroom. But she was sharp and figured me out.
"Unlimited bathroom time sounds great, Mary Ellen. Mind if I join you?"
Now that presented interesting possibilities.
Mom and Daddy were watching some old Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie on TV, so they hardly heard us when Mary Denise and I excused ourselves.
My sister and I saw each other naked all the time. We roomed together for goodness sakes. And all of us Flynn girls enjoyed a "cuddle" with each other now and then. We had massive libidos to match our pretty cocks and boobies. So we needed to cum a lot. I mean a lot. The attention we got from boys and men was wonderful, but we often needed some "supplements." We would either bring ourselves to sweet conclusions or get a little help from our sisters.
Nothing nasty, mind you. We certainly didn’t fuck each other, if that’s what you’re thinking. And we didn’t suck each other’s cocks either. Or eat each other’s pooties.
We just cuddled and kissed and rubbed and stroked and all the cares of the world seemed to disappear.
That night, I knew Mary Denise was having naughty thoughts and so was I. We were so envious of all the adoration that would be heaped on our sisters that night that we needed a cuddle to ease our girlish pride.
Mary Denise and I went to our bedroom to get ready for our bath. Our beds were pushed against opposite walls, Mary Denise’s to the right of the door, mine to the left. It was a big bedroom, but not lavish. Mom and Daddy didn’t believe in lavish. Lavish didn’t build character.
I was giggling a little shyly as I teased Mary Denise’s libido a bit. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and slid off my miniskirt. I loved being in just my bra, garterbelt, heels and stockings. That seemed to enflame every male I had ever met. And it was doing a pretty good job on my sister that night. She ran the same game on me, stripping down to her Kelly green panties and bra and black stockings. Mary Denise didn’t just like green because it was patriotic for a Flynn. Green set her red hair off stunningly.
She was a dish, my sister, and we giggled to note how stiff our big Flynn cocks had gotten from looking at each other’s ripe young bodies.
Mary Denise unhooked her bra and showed me her warm puppies. They were spectacular! And so were mine. I couldn’t wait for the bath. I clacked over to her in my big heels and kissed her, rubbing nipples and gooey cockheads. Embracing and rubbing hands on exquisite bottoms. Licking the insides of each other’s mouths. Deciding that if we couldn’t be the belles of the prom ball, we would empty each other’s balls.
And that was what we did. We came hard before we even got undressed, gooeying each other’s tummies up as we squealed like the little sillies we were. Somehow we managed to draw a bath and get in it together.
We had a lovely cuddle in the tub and fondled each other lovingly as we exchanged sweet kisses and sisterly love. Mary Denise and I, as roommates and the two youngest, fought like alley cats some times. But we loved each other deeply too.
The Flynns were the only functional family I’ve ever met.
Chapter Eight – Summer Fun
Prom really signaled the end of the school year, which was kind of disappointing in some ways. It meant that we didn’t get to go somewhere every day and get worshiped by a legion of boys.
It was kind of sad too, because all my sisters would now be in high school and I would be soldiering on alone at Saint Immaculata’s. Oh, well.
Since Mary Alice was a high school senior that summer, Daddy talked one of his friends into giving her a job as a receptionist for his firm. That was incredibly lucky for Mary Alice.
She wore her beautiful, femmy, summer clothes, showing lots of leg and skin, with stockings and pumps some days and others just five-inch stiletto sandals and painted toesies. Daddy even bought her a lot of new clothes for work so she "wouldn’t look frumpy." As if that were possible for a Flynn! Mary Alice of course had plenty of room for her clothes in her palatial room that she hogged all to herself while her poor Cinderella sisters had to elbow each other for space.
But what was really great for Mary Alice was the men she met at work. Daddy had this big sign made up for Mary Alice’s desk that said, "Hi, I’m Mary Alice Flynn, I’m only 17 and my father is a life member of the National Rifle Association!" She was so embarrassed, but the sign didn’t deter even one male. The threat of a prison term or bullet wound seemed trivial compared to the reward of a date with Mary Alice. And she had lots of dates. Visits to the broom closet. Rides home after work. Long lunches with daddy’s friend who hired Mary Alice. Shame on him! <Giggle>
Mary Beth got her job back as a lifeguard at the town pool. She was a great swimmer and the most athletic of us all. It was amazing how many boys she had to rescue in a given summer. Her only complaint was that she had to wear that darned lifeguard one-piece bathing suit and didn’t get enough of her skin tanned. She tried to make up for it in our backyard pool on her days off.
Did I mention that we had a pool? Daddy put one in when I was little. I don’t think he wanted us going to public pools and having men look at our half-naked bodies. Of course Daddy had to build a huge privacy fence around the pool or it would have been the most popular show in town.
The day Daddy finished the fence, the man next door, who lived with just his wife, had a contractor put two additional floors on his house. His wife didn’t think it was a coincidence. She walked out on him. But he didn’t seem to care. He spent the whole summer on the fourth floor, behind a curtain, with his binoculars.
I guess spying on us was worth it.
Mary Clare, Mary Denise and I were too young to have jobs, but Mom kept us busy doing housework, laundry and cleaning, as part of her campaign to keep us from "getting too full of ourselves.’
Daddy was nicer. He didn’t make us do any yard work. That wasn’t for his princesses he said, which made Mom gag. Mom’s father used to make her shovel a 50-foot driveway before she walked five miles to school in the snow. Or so she said.
Besides not having to do the work, we had an added bonus. Daddy hired a succession of hunky teenage boys to do the yard work for us. Daddy couldn’t understand why they said they would work for only a dollar an hour, but he thought that was admirable. That summer, Daddy hired two neighborhood boys – Patrick and Kevin Mahoney. They were juniors at the Catholic high school, very sweet and very cute. They seemed to find a task that needed to be done every day that summer, but at their hourly rate, Daddy didn’t complain.
I remember the first day of vacation that year was very hot. Mary Denise and Mom went off to visit Grandma, so Mary Clare and I had the pool to ourselves. Patrick and Kevin were trimming hedges or something, so we had privacy.
I put on my micro bikini and checked myself out in the mirror. I would have to get changed before Daddy got home of he would have a fit. The top barely covered the nipples of my very large boobs. My boobs were beautiful! The bikini bottom was really just an electric blue cache-sex pouch that covered my pink goodie package, with a thong in back that covered my anus, but exposed my glorious globes. I was getting all stiffied up just looking at myself, so I left my room. Mary Clare was leaving her room at the same time and she looked HOTT!! Her long, straight, white blonde hair was halfway down her creamy back and her suit was even briefer than mine.
I couldn’t resist showing off just a tiny bit, so I stood on the front porch and said to Kevin and Patrick, "We’ll be in the pool, boys. Help yourselves to a cold drink or something." Then I couldn’t resist saying, "And let me know if there’s anything else you need."
The boys were working with their shirts off and I could see their nipples erect as they looked at me. Ah, the power of pussy.
I didn’t figure the boys would actually take me up on my offer that day, because they would be around us all summer. I joined Mary Clare at the pool.
I loved sunning myself. But I hated tan lines. I also hated burning.
So the first thing I did was remove that top. It weighed about two ounces, but it was blocking the sun. My wet-nosed puppies were free in the open air. The sun felt wonderful on them, but I didn’t want sunburned titties. How awful.
So I got out the sun tan lotion. There was no such thing as sun block in those days, but the old stuff worked pretty well. I squirted some in my right hand and rubbed it slowly on my left boob. It felt wonderful. My bikini bottom was getting very full. I was thinking about being very naughty and taking it off when I saw Mary Clare considering me with a stare filled with erotic need.
"May I help you with that?" my grammatically correct and large-chested, large-cocked sister inquired.
"That would be peachy," I said. And I giggled.
Mary Clare slowly, erotically applied lotion to every square millimeter of my body. Including what was under my bikini bottom, which had miraculously disappeared and was hiding in the same place Mary Clare’s top and bottom were.
So there we were, two naked, writhing Flynns, covered with slippery lotion, panting with desire, stiff-cocked and dripping with spermy goo. And wouldn’t you know, that the boys picked that very moment to venture back to the pool to ask us where the kitchen, which they had just walked through, was?
It was the luck of the Irish.
For the boys and us.
Patrick and Kevin knew that their golden moment had arrived when Mary Clare and I separated and smiled at them. I stayed put, on my back on the lounger. Mary Clare ran, didn’t walk, to a nearby lounger and "spread herself out."
They looked at each other, then at us. Patrick moved first, toward me. I took that as meaning that I was more desirable than Mary Clare, which I knew anyway, but was happy that it was reinforced.
Kevin ran to Mary Clare. I mean ran. I’m sure that was a boost for her ego, but I was still the first selected.
Anyway, I was already naked and slick, and Patrick had his shirt off. I suggested that he remove his shorts and shoes and rub up against me a bit. He did. Oh my, he did.
It was the first time I had been having sex while other people were having sex nearby. I mean Kevin and Mary Clare were in a deep clinch as Patrick rubbed his excellent body against mine. I loved the feel of cock to cock, and apparently he did too, because he rubbed my big girl against his big boy and mixed our flowing juices. The poor lad was overcome when he kissed me and he blew his sticky goo very quickly. He was really embarrassed, but I kissed him and told him it was all right. I stroked him to another erection, then turned away from him, lying on my left side. For a moment, he thought I was rejecting him. Then I groaned, "I need lotion inside me too."
The lad quickly added two and two, grabbed the lotion bottle and with two loving fingers, opened me up for both our pleasures.
Mmmmm. It was so naughty. About to be fucked in broad daylight. Outside. In my own yard. With my sister and the fourth-floor neighbor watching. What if I were caught? "It just happened, Daddy" was one defense. Or, "<Sniffle> I didn’t want to, Daddy. He charmed me and seduced me." Or, "The devil made me do it, Daddy."
The worst that would happen would be Daddy spanking me. Hard. Bare bottom. On his lap. Masterfully. With his thing all hard. My thing rubbing against his leg on each spanking stroke.
Back to reality, Patrick paused, his nice cock at my anus, to ask, "OK?"
Polite boy. "Yes please," I said. "Fill ‘er up!"
And he did. It was wonderful. The boy was grateful and erotically generous. He kissed my neck, caressed my nipples and skinned my cock the whole time as he fucked my sweet pussy. Since he had just come once, that was 30 glorious minutes and two teeth-rattling cums for me.
We were drenched with sweat and cum and suntan lotion, so we jumped naked into the pool, joining Mary Clare and Kevin, who had finished moments before we did.
We goofed around like the kids we were, then Mary Clare and I put our suits back on, kissed the boys goodbye and sent them home.
I think we forgot to give them the money Mom left to pay them. Oh well.
We saw those nice boys a lot that wonderful summer.
I’ve had a great life. I’m proud and happy to be an Irish girl and a Flynn. And I’m only 28 in 2002. So much has happened and it’s all been wonderful.
I would tell you more about us, but I know you readers don’t like long stories. If you want to hear more about my life, drop me a line at gingerfred99@yahoo.com. Or I’ll just keep my stories about the Flynns to myself.
Wouldn’t you like to know more about us?
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