The foursome gathered around me. I sat on the couch with Linda on one side and Sue on the other. Pat nestled in her husband's lap in the big chair facing us.
I don't doubt that my eyes grew misty and far away. I wasn't seeing the room, but rather the soft rolling green hills and dales of Ireland. I knew that the faint traces that remained of my Irish accent grew stronger the longer I talked.
************
I was born the eighth and final child to my parents, Michael and Mary O'Brien. Five brothers and two sisters all towered above me in my childhood. My father owned and operated the local combination inn and tavern, with of course, the assistance, advice and direction of my mother. Along with my siblings, I worked there from the time I was old enough to help. I started mopping the flagstone floor, washing dishes, and finally graduated to serving drinks and food.
Generally I didn't have to think twice about the customers. After all, with the exception of a traveling bard or tinker and the very rare patrol of English soldiery, our village was generally left to us. An uneasy peace existed in the country. In not too many years there would be the earth-shaking revolt of Hugh O'Neill amd "Red Hugh" O'Donnell that came within a breath of casting the English out of Ireland. Alas, that was not to be.
In the meantime though, I could generally wiggle my hips or cast a wink at the men in the tavern without fear of any liberties being taken. Most customers were friends of my family. Furthermore my father was well known as a strong man and a famed wrestler throughout the area. He was pretty choosy about who got fresh with his Bridget. The young men learned quickly that if they wanted to steal a kiss, it would have to be done away from my father's watchful glare.
I should have been married by now. Twenty-one was definitely an old maid in those times. But so far no one had shown up to match both my eyes and my father's expectations. So I was still waiting for the dashing man who would sweep me off my feet. Too many romantic tales I'm sure.
One visitor to our place was Dominic. Everyone was suspicious of him. Not from anything he did, but rather because he was a "foreigner". In those days that term would have been applied to anyone, Irish, English or whatever who was not a local, but in his case it was true. He was dark, actually not that peculiar in Ireland. He told us he was from Spain. Another Catholic country, Spain and Ireland had a continual, if quiet commerce so his being here was not unusual.
From the first, he captivated me. Up till then, my sexual experiences had been limited to an occasional kiss and some hurried fumbling in a quiet place like the barn loft. Only twice had a boy even touched my breast. Both times the inexperienced touching had left me longing for more.
Once, just once I had touched a boy in a forbidden place. Seamus McManus, the youngest son of one of our neighbors, and I had slipped away from a village celebration and taken refuge in a haystack. We had kissed and daringly run our hands over each other's arms and leg. A sudden shift of the straw beneath us had brought my hand in contact with a rigid bulge between his legs. We froze. Almost involuntarily I rubbed my fingers against it. Then realizing what we were doing and knowing that, according to the Parish Priest, that final damnation was upon us, we had sprung apart and shot back to the festivities.
From Dominic I wanted more. So much more. His words were always friendly and innocuous, but the fire that seemed to burn in his eyes occasionally came through. I knew he wanted me as a man wanted a woman. And I wanted him. I wanted to feel his dark, smooth skin. I wanted his hands upon me. I trembled as he once brushed his hand over my bottom as he squeezed past me one evening.
Several times we managed to find hurried moments alone. His first kiss was so thrilling I could have given myself to him right then. I had never known a kiss went beyond the touching of lips. When he whispered that he loved me, my heart nearly stopped. I promised that very night to meet him outside of the village.
Late that night I slipped out of my bed. Afraid even to breathe, I tiptoed to the doorway and slipped down the stairs. I hugged the wall to avoid the tread that I knew squeaked. Then I unbarred the top of the Dutch style doors and clambered out. I eased them closed behind me, hoping that no one would notice they were open before I got back and bar them against my reentry.
I flew on swift feet to the grove of trees where I had agreed to meet Dominic. The moonlight lit my way and I caught my breath as I saw him standing in its rays. Running to him I launched myself into his arms.
"Ah my love, you came!" The moonlight glinted in his eyes, almost making them glow. He kissed me again, holding my small body to him. Once again his tongue slipped into my mouth. His hands rested on my bare shoulders and he drew the simple dress down until it dropped below my breasts. Murmuring in my ear, his hands took them and caressed them. My nipples grew harder than I could have ever imagined. I was wet between my legs, a wetness such as I had never felt before.
He scooped me up into his arms. Still kissing me, he carried me through the trees to a small grassy knoll. He set me down gently.
"Such beauty should be knelt before." He fell to one knee and caught my dress, pulling it down over my hips and to my feet. I stepped out of it, as nude as the day I was born.
My dress cast aside, he stretched my body out on the cool grass. I shivered but the heat of my passion overcame my body, and my doubts. He threw aside his clothing and fell on top of me.
I gasped as I felt his manhood press against me. He caught my wrists in an unbreakable grip and pinned me under him. He bent his head and caught one of my breasts in his mouth. At first he was gentle, running his tongue over the stiffening nipple, urging it to harden to his touch. His mouth slid to the other breast, treating it the same. His body pushed against me. I groaned in anticipation and fear as I felt his hard cock slide between my legs.
"Yes, oh yes, Dominic." I was on fire with excitement
Then his lovemaking changed. As though he had become some wild animal, he took my nipple in his teeth and bit. He wrenched it with a sharp pull of his head. The pain became deeper as I felt two points dig along the softness of my breast.
Even as I called out to him to stop, his knees forced my legs apart and the head of his cock launched itself against the wetness of my pussy. One massive heave of his hips drove him up inside me. I tried to scream, only to find his mouth completely covering mine. My hymen ruptured and then he was fucking me, his hips pounding my small body into the turf with every movement of his body.
What he was doing to me brought mixed feeling to me. After the initial shock, my body was responding to him. The pressure of his cock inside me made me feel good. Somehow it was not the "rapturous excitement" I had expected from eavesdropping on the talk of other women. My breasts hurt from his teeth. He had finally let go of them and was licking my neck, which I found much more pleasurable.
Still in all, I could feel something building inside my body, a fire burning deep between my legs. I was meeting his down thrusts with my own movements and I began to moan loudly. He must have felt me building, for he suddenly picked up the pace of his hips. The he was very tight inside me, as though he had swollen. I cried out, my body shaking under a force stronger by far than my own fingers had ever aroused.
His lips were next to my ear. He whispered in his accented Gaelic, "Now, my love, we will be together always." His head dropped to my neck. I spasmed in the first throes of my orgasm. He released into me, a hot flood filling my pussy. Then I felt a sharp pain in my throat. I became dizzy, the world spinning wildly around until I sank into darkness.
