It was St Patrick’s Day in Dublin and my best friend and I had flown in from London for the weekend. It was a spur of the moment trip, and we’d booked so last minute that the only accommodation left was at the airport hotel.
Dressed in green from head to toe, we hopped on the airport shuttle bus to the city centre to watch the parade.
Joining the crowds that lined the streets in the cold, we cheered on the floats, bands and Irish dancers. It wasn’t long before we realised the three guys standing behind us were Aussie. After overhearing them cracking jokes, we joined in the conversation and hit it off straight away.
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Keen to get warm, the boys invited us for lunch, and we all piled into the nearest pub and ordered a hot roast with a Guinness.
Pulling my coat off as I squeezed into the booth, the cutest guy’s eyes fell to my cleavage, popping out the top of my short green dress. Biting my bottom lip to hide my grin, I sat down beside Marc ready to flirt.
By the time we’d finished our food, we were several pints in, and as loud and rowdy as the rest of the pub.
Pushing past patrons, we stumbled back on to the street, Marc’s hand catching me as I fell out the door.
Making our way down cobbled streets, we walked into the next bar and headed straight to the dancefloor as live Irish music belted out from the stage.
Carrying another round of Guinness, Marc handed me a glass with a very sexy smile and a wink.
As the traditional tunes roared over the audience, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in. Lifting my chin up, his lips enveloped mine as his hands slid down my dress, over every curve of my body.
The crowd around us swelled in the dark, paying no attention to what we were doing, as Marc’s tongue explored the inside of my mouth and his fingers inched closer to those other lips. With his body pressed up against mine, his hand disappeared under my hemline and into my tights.
Hidden from view, Marc pushed aside my lace panties, tantalising my clit.