I sawr 'em first, ye slatterns! Heehee! They're mine! All mine! Heehee!
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Not a half minute after Paddy finds a seat, another sweet-smelling young wench plops down a bit tipsily in his lap and not-too-gently nips his neck--not quite hard enough to draw blood, but Paddy is surprised to find it ferociously erotic and arousing.... Hello, my 'ansome lad.... she purs, her breath smelling of alcohol.... Did it 'urt much when ye fell from 'eaven, my angel? |