As Erin's lips slid down over my length I gasped and lay back on the couch. Relief suffused me: the only sound apart from her wet murmuring and my groaning was the distant noise of traffic. There was no hint at all of that hideous fluting which had dogged me for so long.
The curse had finally been lifted!
A few drinks after work had led from one thing to another and I'd finally got Erin to come back to my apartment for a coffee.
I'd spent the entire evening in tormented horniness at all her teasing. After starting this new job, I'd been approached by several of my female colleagues, but fear of the curse made me rebuff them all. Since I didn't give off any gay vibes, word got around I was some sort of religious type who was saving himself for marriage, so of course the older women I worked with made it a competition to try and break me.
I'd finally succumbed to temptation and let Erin, my manager, 'seduce' me, if pushing her boobs in my face could really be called seduction. It was three weeks since I'd returned from Ireland and there'd been no sign of the curse during all that time, so I decided either the curse was localised to that country or I was finally been shown mercy after so many months of suffering.
As Erin really got to work on me I felt a sudden attack of paranoia and glanced about the room. No, the curse must really have been lifted. It always appeared well before anything like this happened.
"Oh god, you're so hard," Erin gasped. I pulled her off and she giggled with schoolgirlish delight as I turned her onto her tummy, lifted the hem of her skirt up, pulled her pants down and covered her curvy pale butt with hungry kisses. I let my hand slip up inside her blouse over her tummy and to her hanging boobs and teased her hardening nipples between my fingers.
She moaned and wriggled and I held onto her. I knew I should take things slow - it'd been months since I'd had any kind of sexual release - but when Erin began to push her butt up at me, I decided there was no point wasting any more time and mounted her.
I slid into her sticky heat, making her gasp and myself tremble at this long hungered-for sensation. I ran my hands along her ribs and down her smooth stomach as I started fucking her in earnest. I paced myself, but even holding back I was soon eliciting frenzied gasps from her that echoed my own.
"Oh god, more!" she moaned, tossing her long dark hair.
It was then that I heard the tin flute start up.
No. No, no no. No, not now!
The thin notes of the unseen instrument capered through the air and after a cheeky and arrogant trilling it reached a crescendo before falling away.
And then I saw it, sitting on the kitchen bench on the other side of the room and watching me with cruel humour in its dark, glittering eyes. It took the flute from its lips and grinned.
The curse.
So it hadn't been lifted. It had just been biding its time, waiting for me to be lulled into a false sense of security.
'The curse', as I called it, was about three and a half feet tall and dressed all in green: moss green trousers with a gold buckle, a little green velvet vest with glittering buttons worn over a light green blouse trimmed in white lace, and last of all a hat, a tall conical hat of the same moss green as the trousers with a superfluous buckle on it as well for good measure. Dark eyes and an upturned nose set in a pale, pixyish face with a long red beard completed the picture.
I'm sure you've seen this sort of thing before: on the sign of a plastic-paddy Irish pub or a St. Patrick's Day Party flier or on the front of a cereal box.
Yes, I called it 'the curse', but anyone who didn't know how evil it was would laugh and say it was 'just a leprechaun'.
With a wink, the leprechaun hopped onto its feet, brought the tin flute to its lips once more and began to play a rousing jig.
At the first sound of the flute my previously eager strokes had slowed, but now at the appearance of the creature and its spirited dancing I came to a complete standstill.
"What's the matter?" asked Erin, looking at me over her shoulder. She pushed her hips back against me and groaned lustily, but it was no use. I rapidly lost hardness as all desire drained from me at the sound of that diabolical flute and the spirited and ridiculous dancing of its diminutive owner.
Who doesn't know what happened next? Erin, her pride wounded by my inability to get hard again, grabbed her handbag and stormed out, muttering about gay men in denial. I lay there with a terminal case of soft cock as the leprechaun finished its little jig and took the tin flute from its lips. It swept the hat from its head and bowed with an arrogant flourish.
You had to give it to the creature, it was a consummate showman.
I stared at the thing balefully as I put my clothes back on, wincing at the frustration that wracked my body.
"Ah, now that t'was a pretty lass," said the leprechaun in its high, girlish voice. It sat down on the counter and kicked its legs back and forth, considering me with a malicious smile on its lips. "A pretty raven-haired beauty and no mistakin'."
"Shut up," I said.
"Aye, t'was a dreadful thing to leave such a pretty one unsatisfied and pantin' for more..."
I slumped back on the couch. "Just shut up."
"Now, now," said the leprechaun. "T'was no charm of mine that unmanned ye, but yer own subconscious guilt. Maybe next time ye'll be more careful before ye offend the Fair Folk."
