Ireland Romance

For those who came in late:

Blue Gill has been called to Ireland to housekeep a castle for a former lover called Brendan. She has explored the castle and finds herself fascinated with a picture of an ancient Irish warrior called Culchainen. She decides that it is time to get ready for dinner…………..

There was an en suite running off the bedroom. Someone had obviously updated the plumbing quite recently; at least in this part of the house. Like the bedroom it was enormous in size and again elegantly finished. The floor and far wall were marble. Huge mirrors covered the other three walls and Blue could see herself as a million marionettes disappearing to infinity. In the middle was a huge bath on pedestals. If it were filled she could luxuriate in water right up to her chin.

She started running the taps. The AGA was doing its job well. Warm water flowed out almost immediately.

As the water flowed into the bath, Blue slowly got undressed. She was proud of her full figure. O.K. so Kate Moss wouldn’t have liked her broad hips and large bust and her stomach wasn’t as flat as a fashion model’s. But the men in Blues life had admired the soft curves of her body. The way her belly curved graciously to the inviting recess between her legs. The way her full cheeks of her buttocks mirrored the firm curves of her breasts. Her body was soft like the summer breezes that blew cross the rounded hills of Wisconsin.

“Earthmother” Brendan had called her when he first saw her naked. “Thank God you’re not skinny me darlin’. I love a woman who is easy to hang on to.”

When the bath was filled to a level that to Blue seemed almost reckless extravagance she turned off the taps and let herself slowly sink into the deep warm water. Oh it was good to luxuriate in this all encompassing softness after a day riding the Honda over rough country roads! If only Brendan were here to soap her back.

In a cupboard, behind one of the mirrors, she found some white fluffy towels and two large natural sponges. They conjured up visions of the Blue Aegean Sea and naked divers risking their lives just to give her this moment of luxury. Well if they worked that hard for it she was going to enjoy the fruit of their labours.

She closed her eyes and filled the soapy sponge with water. She held it above her body and let the water trickle over her face, her mouth, her shoulders and her breasts. For some moments she let it drip gently teasingly on her left nipple. She loved that sensation of initial arousal. It promised so much.

She could feel a thousand tiny mouths caressing every part of her sensuous body as the warm water soaked into every intimate crevice. She moved the other sponge down to her private place of pleasure and gently worked it back and forward. It felt so good.

In her mind she could see the picture of Cuchulainin; his hard muscles; that strong savage smile; that pagan look of lust in his eye. She knew just how to pleasure herself; knew just the right amount of pressure to cause maximum enjoyment. Not too hard. Not too soft. She could stimulate and arouse herself with just the right intimate touches. She knew her body better than any man and her body responded avidly.

She imagined herself in Cuchulainin’s strong arms; encased in limbs of pliant steel. She moaned slightly as she imagined the strong Irish king invading her with his pagan lust. Her mouth invaded by his tongue, her other lips parting to accept his strong turgid maleness. His body filling hers in delicious union.

Her hand moved faster to enrich her imagination as she let herself succumb to the unstoppable sensation of primal lust.

From her centre of pleasure waves of enjoyment spread through her until she had no control over her body and it arched of its own volition causing waves of warm soft water to caress every pore. The fire flared to white hot intensity as the first wave of an orgasm sent her into paroxysms of delight. She was flying though mists of ancient Eire in the arms of her pagan lover to adventures and pleasures, undreamt of since those ages when the earth mother and mortal men became as one to create a force so great that not even death could conquer it.

Slowly her body ceased to tense and finally slumped into a relaxation so peaceful that she lay there floating, not moving except for her breasts which rose and fell as she gasped for air to satisfy her recent exertions. Then gradually, as her body became satisfied, they too ceased to heave and she lay there in blissful relaxation, staring at the pure white of the ceiling which seemed now to be miles away partly obscured by the thin tendrils of steam rising out of the bath.

“Oh!” she thought with wry amusement as she looked at her left hand... “Thank God you’re a good lover.” and she kissed her hand with mock gratitude. “Bloody awful conversationalist though!”

She smiled and looked as a thousand images of a satisfied lady got dripping out of the bath. “This bathroom could do a lot for your ego” she thought.

Now for the dress. She put it on and admired herself in the mirror. She really did look magnificent. The creamy tops of her breasts were thrust up invitingly contrasting with the deep Blue of the velvet. The dress was long but clinging, suggesting and thereby enhancing her luxuriant body.

She brushed her hair up away changing her normal bangs into a mass of curls piled high on her head in regal display.

“Wow Brendan,” she thought. “I hope that whore you’re with is really something Babe. Just look what you’re missing out on!”

And she made her way slowly down the stairs, feeling for all the world like Scarlett O’hara, to where her dinner was laid out in the dining room.

She had to go through the hall to the formal dining room and as she did a wave of loneliness suddenly overcame her.

This was a moment to be shared, surely. It was about now when if this was a romantic novel and she was the heroine there would be a knock at the door and there would be a rich Frenchman, a millionaire who had lost his way in the wilds of Ireland and had come to seek directions. A man of impeccable breeding and taste, whose conversation would help her pass a pleasurable hour or two at the dinner table. He would be dressed in original Yves St. Laurent with Bally leather shoes, reeking of money. Of course he would ravish her and leave her in the morning wanting more. But her beauty and personality would overcome his normal devil-may-care attitude to women. After many misunderstandings which were inserted by the author just to fill out the book, he would return and be faithful to her after he had discovered that, beside her, all others paled. Then he would take her to his Chalet overlooking the Loire and they would live happily ever after in a houseful of servants which looked after their progeny (conceived in breathless passion and delivered with no pain at all) and visit Monaco just to lunch with Royalty.

Blue was just thinking she had gone right off the planet when the door knocker sent a deep thud through the castle.

She jumped with surprise, but went to the door with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

She opened it to find a man covered in mud, looking totally dishevelled and bleeding profusely from a cut above the right eye.

He looked at her grinned shyly and said with a broad Australian accent. “Oh God I’m sorry. Have I just busted up a fancy dress party or something?”

Blue burst out laughing. The vision before her could not have been further from her fantasies.

“Crikey lady. I know I look a flamin’ mess but it wasn’t really my fault.”

“No sorry a private joke. You’d better come in and clean up. What happened?”

“Well I had a sort of an accident.. Fell off me bike” he smiled ruefully. “People keep tellin me not to get of me bike ...Just didn’t listen I suppose.”

The guy entered the castle and looked round. He was obviously impressed with the size of the place and even more impressed with Blue.

“Where is everybody?” It was only natural for him, thought Blue, to expect some sort of function in progress. She suddenly felt very embarrassed at how overdressed she was.

Then she thought suddenly that she had been foolishly trusting in letting in a stranger at this time of night. She was after all on her own. Perhaps it would be wise not to let him know that.

“Oh they’re about....It’s a big place.” The white lie seemed to her to be very hollow. However let’s not worry about that. I’d better look at your injuries.”

Blue gave him her critical eye. He wasn’t half bad looking underneath that mud. His face was lined and tanned, but his skin was pretty smooth so it was difficult to guess his age. He had a strong face. You wouldn’t call it handsome. Not the Cary Grant kind of handsome anyway. His nose was definitely too large, but there was a humorous sparkle to his eyes and his grin was boyish...almost innocent, and he had a wry way of making a moue when he commented on things as if you weren’t to take him too seriously.

He wasn’t a muscle man either. But he looked pretty fit and naturally endowed with large torso slim hips which gave him overall a pretty good mark in Blue’s books. He managed, she thought to herself an 8.5.

And she liked the flat twangy accent and the way he had of making light of what could have been a serious accident. He looked in control and that was something that Blue could use right now.