I'm a curvy black girl with a love of all things Irish --not surprising given that my dad's last name is Reilly and my mom's maiden name is Callahan. The fact is that back in the Old South, the Irish overseers went a bit mad for the dark lasses and sired a lot of half-African, half Gaelic kids. My great grandmother on my dad's side had brick red hair, freckles, and green eyes. I think she would have fit right in on any farm in County Cork.

Anyways, recently, there was this holiday you may have heard of --Saint Patrick's Day. Some friends and I went to a bar and whooped it up. After my third Irish Car bomb, I found myself on the dance floor with a guy who looked a lot like Colin Farrell. Yummy accent to boot. He was quite flirtacious and well, I was drunk which is why I ended up going home with him. Well not home exactly, but to his motel room which looked as if the IRA had bombed it recently.

I didn't care. I'd had 5 star hotels. I'd never had an Irishman. And I said as much.

He said he'd never had a black girl before and lavished a shameful amount of oral attention on my booty. Which is why I shrugged when I felt his rather substantial Irish banger at my virgin back door.

I can't describe how exciting it was. He pulled out at the end and I came just feeling his thick Irish cream spurt onto my coffee colored ass.

We're meeting up tonight and I'll see if he tastes as yummy as the foam on Guinness.