Irish Poetry

Devnit has a fabulous body. Three days a week I sit in Creative Writing class with her and I fantasize about what I want to do to her 38-29-39 body. I dream about her long, curly red hair bouncing around as she rides me. I imagine her jade eyes staring at mine as I take off her clothes. I can almost hear her whispering to me in her flowing Irish accent. I want her.

Then I leave class. She goes her way and I go mine. I go to my dorm room and jack off thinking of her. I don’t think she even know my name.

When I’m done abusing myself, I sit at my computer and write poetry to her. My roommate, Noah, tries to console me. “Kent, just give her one of those poems you’re always writing. She’ll either fall madly in love with you or think you’re a creep. Either way, you’ll know what she thinks. You’ll never get with her if you never talk to her.”

“You’re right. I just hope it’s not the creep alternative.”

So the next day, I walked over to Devnit after class was done. I said, “Hi.”

She turned around. “Hey, you’re Kent, right?”

I was shocked. She knew my name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.” I cleared my throat. “Say, I was writing a poem and I wanted to know what you thought of it. You know, a woman’s point of view.”

“Sure. I’ll take a look at it.” She smiled.

“Thanks,” I blushed as I handed her the poem. “My phone number is on the bottom, if you have any comments or anything.”

“Okay.” She turned and walked away. I watched her ass shake as she went down the hall. I could just see myself grabbing that ass.

I told myself to snap out of it. I grabbed a bite to eat. Then I went to me evening class, but for some crazy reason, I couldn’t concentrate on statistics. All I could think about was whether she liked my poem or not.

After class, I raced back to my dorm. Noah was mindlessly playing some computer game. I threw my backpack on the floor and dropped onto my bed.

Without tearing his eyes from the computer screen Noah said, “Hey, some chick called for you. Some Devin or something. She had a thick accent and I couldn’t really tell.”

“Yeah? What did she say?”

“She said something like, ‘Tell Kent to meet me by Wood Hall at 9 tonight.’”

“Nine? I have, like 15 minutes!”

“You’d better run!”

I was at her dorm faster than a cheap whore. What a coincidence that she lived in Wood Hall. As I approached the building, I saw her flaming red hair. She was wearing a short skirt and a tight blouse. I had a feeling that she didn’t think I was a creep.

“Devnit, I–” She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me to her lips.

When she finally broke the liplock, I said, “So you liked my poem.”

“I loved it. And I want to make love with you. Come with me.”

While we walked up the stairs to her dorm, she told me that her roommate was out for the night. Even on a Wednesday night, her roommate was out getting drunk. I didn’t listen much. I stared at her ass through the skirt. My cock was straining against my silk boxers.

As soon as we were both inside her room, she slammed the door shut. “Fuck me,” she said as she tore her clothes off. I ripped mine off in the same manor. Soon we were both naked.

“Ooh, big boy!” she said, wrapping her hands around it 8" member. She pressed my cock against her pussy and whispered in my ear, “I want it in here.”

That was all I needed. I threw her on her bed and mounted her. Her silky pussy wrapped around my cock like a glove. I pounded away, feeling her cunt convulse around my dick. My balls slapped against her ass. I watched her fabulous tits bounce as I slammed into her. That was heaven.

She moaned and writhed. She said something to me in Gaelic. God, that’s a sexy language. The she said the only English words since I mounted her. “Big boy, I’m there!”

And her pussy violently squeezed my cock. I blew all my spunk into her pussy, as I fell on top of her. We kissed and kissed.

Then she whispered to me, “Write me some more poetry.”

Gentlemen--I decided to challenge myself with this story, so I wrote from the man's point of view. Please send me feedback and let me know how accurate I am and/or what I can improve on. Thanks, Gents!