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Mura turasóir thú thabharfainn abhaile thú, stóicfinn thú agus líonfadh mo choileach thú go dtí go screadfá m’ainm: If you weren’t a tourist, I would take you home, strip you and fill you with my cock till you screamed my name.
Is tusa an grá a cheap mé nach bhfaighfinn choíche agus an grá nach scaoilfidh mé as: You are the love I thought I would never find and the love I will never let go of.
“Okay, fine. Then just find some sexy ass man with a huge dick and get railed six ways from Sunday while he whispers dirty things to you in his panty melting accent.”
Who am I kidding? I want to jump this man’s bones so hard they break. I want his number, so I can convince him to let me take that body for a spin. Conor is a big man, with big hands, and we all know what that means . . . Big dick. I’m talking about his dick.
“Eyes up here, Love. Although I do love it when a woman checks out my package, you’re makin’ me a little self-conscious here.”
“Mura turasóir thú thabharfainn abhaile thú, stóicfinn thú agus líonfadh mo choileach thú go dtí go screadfá m’ainm.” If you weren’t a tourist, I would take you home, strip you, and fill you with my cock till you screamed my name.
“It means Little Moth. Because like the moths you love so much you are beautiful and entrancing. Only here for a short while before you’re gone. And when you do leave, my life will have a little less beauty in it.”
“Is tusa an grá a cheap mé nach bhfaighfinn choíche agus an grá nach scaoilfidh mé as.” You are the love I thought I would never find and the love I will never let go of.
“Fuck eloquence,” she scoffs, laughing lightly. My best friend and life advisor everyone.
