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The wind was out of the north-east at about Force 4 as I walked down the dock at Greencastle Harbour and stepped aboard Jeannie, my Nordic 26 cruise tug. It had cost me a chunk of money to have her carried here as deck cargo on a freighter, but the sale of my recording studio in Texas had made it possible for me to retire long before I deserved to and enjoy six months of the year in County Donegal, Ireland. Nobody was ever going to confuse my bank account with Warren Buffet’s, but I was able to enjoy the lifestyle and the wonderful people of the Emerald Isle without worrying about finances.
I could never give up my home state of Texas, but when the temperature starts climbing in the Lone Star state I get on a plane and head for latitude 55N where the mercury rarely exceeds 72 degrees. Or, as they measure it here, 22 degrees Celsius. On my first visit here, I couldn’t help but laugh when the temp hit 75 one day and the locals were complaining about the heat. It had been 114 the day I flew out of DFW.
“I’m leaving out a week after Wednesday,” I told them. “Y’all come on back to Fort Worth with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Today was a comfortable 65 degrees and the wind was kicking up waves about a metre high on Lough Foyle. I checked the fridge for a suitable supply of Guinness cans and gave the boat a quick check before throwing the master switch and starting the engine. The Perkins 4-236 diesel started on the first revolution and I let it tick over slowly as I stepped out on deck and cast off the bow and stern lines. I coiled the lines, pulled the fenders inboard and went back into the wheelhouse. I didn’t really have a plan for the afternoon; I just wanted to get out on the water for a while. I reached up to the electronics console on the overhead and switched on the radios, radar and depth sounder. Easing the transmission into gear, I pushed the throttle up a bit and steered Jeannie away from the dock. It was low tide, so I made sure to keep ‘the nob’ well to port. The Marliona, a 90 foot fishing boat, had gone aground on that pesky high spot inside the harbour last season and I had no intention of duplicating that event.
As I cleared the breakwater, the waves caught Jeannie and made her roll a bit, but her sea-kindly hull design ensured that it wasn’t objectionable. Now, the question was, where to go? I decided to turn to port and head out into the North Atlantic just enough to go about five miles to Kinnagoe Bay and see if my friend Ash was sitting on his porch overlooking the bay — with a Guinness in his hand. Just to make sure he was, I called him on my Iridium satellite phone and told him to watch for me. I figured I’d make a pass through Kinnagoe and then go back into Lough Foyle and head for Moville, tie up at the transient pier there and have dinner at Rosato’s Bar. That decision made, I pushed the throttle up and headed out of the lough at about 12 knots.
I came around the point into Kinnagoe Bay, throttled back and looked above the cliff to Ash’s house. Sure enough, he was standing on the porch with Anna, his girlfriend, and they were both waving at me. I waved back, then pushed the throttle forward, came around to starboard and headed back for the entrance to Lough Foyle. I was getting hungry and dinner at Rosato’s was starting to sound pretty good. The wind had freshened to about Force 5 and the waves were approaching two metres as I turned starboard into the lough. The mouth of Lough Foyle is large and there’s not much moderation of the wind when it’s out of the north. I grabbed a Guinness from the fridge and settled back for the hour’s run to Moville. With the wind at my stern, it was a comfortable ride with only a little pitching motion.
The Greencastle-Magilligan ferry was returning to the harbour and I steered slightly to port to pass well astern of it. As I swung back on course I noticed a small sailboat off the port bow probably two miles away. I picked up the gyro-stabilised Steiner binoculars off the console and took a closer look.
I focused the big Steiners, and was surprised to see a catboat about 15 feet long. The catboat, a gaff-rigged vessel with the single mast far forward, is primarily found on the east coast of the United States. This was the first one I’d seen in Ireland. Catboats are a bit tricky to handle and as I watched, the wind got ahead of the sailor and the little boat rolled to starboard and capsized.
The Perkins engine below decks bellowed as I shoved the throttle to the stop and turned toward the stricken boat. I grabbed the microphone for the VHF radio in the overhead console and called the Greencastle Coast Guard on Channel 16.
“Greencastle Coast Guard, this is Jeannie. A small catboat has just capsized, bearing 180 degrees, approximately three miles from the mouth of the harbour. I am two miles away and headed for them at 14 knots. Over.”
“Jeannie, this is Greencastle dispatch. We’re currently on a tow for a disabled vessel between the ümraniye escort mouth of Lough Foyle and Portstewart. Can you provide assistance or should we call the Malin Coast Guard? Over.”
“Negative, Greencastle. Malin’s at least 30 minutes away. I can be there in about eight minutes. I’ll handle it. I’ll call if I need help. Jeannie out.”
Consumed with frustration, I hammered the throttle lever with my hand, hoping to eke out just one more knot from Jeannie. It didn’t help — the Perkins diesel was wound as tight as it would go — and I settled back and steered for the capsized catboat as I held the binoculars to my eyes. As I got closer, I was able to see one person in the water holding onto the catboat’s mast.
About a half mile out, I left the wheelhouse, stepped out onto the aft deck and got the life ring ready to toss when I was in range. Back in the wheelhouse, I steered a bit to port, putting the catboat on the lee side of Jeannie, pulled the throttle back to dead slow and when I saw the sailor in the water, stepped out on the starboard deck and cast the life ring with a side-arm motion. The ring bounced off the catboat’s mast and fell within a foot of the person in the water. She — I saw now that the victim was a female — released her grip on the mast and clutched at the life ring with both hands. I reached into the wheelhouse, pulled the throttle all the way back and shifted the gearbox into neutral.
“Hang on to the ring and I’ll haul you around to the swim step,” I yelled at her.
She nodded her head and I pulled the line in hand-over-hand as I walked to the stern rail. I stepped over the transom and the waves washed over my feet as I stood on the step and helped her come aboard. The first detail about her that I noticed was her red hair. Regardless of the myth, there really aren’t that many redheads in Ireland. There are actually more in Denmark. But she was a redhead, with that perfect complexion that is so rare; and to top it off, she had green eyes. Green-eyed redheads are my absolutely favourite flavour of female and I had just rescued one from the waters of Lough Foyle.
But there was no time to think those kind of thoughts and I let the life ring fall to the deck and drew her into the wheelhouse. She was shivering from the cold and I closed the wheelhouse doors and turned the heater up to max. I got a blanket from the forward cabin and wrapped it around her, then moved Jeannie to a position where I could get a line around the tip of the catboat’s mast. Pulling carefully from the other side, I righted the little vessel; still full of water, but now upright and able to be towed . I rigged a line to its bow and took it under tow at about four knots. I finally had a chance to talk to the lady that I had just rescued. “I’m Sean. Sure glad I got here in time to pull you out of the water.”
“I’m Aideen.” She took a breath, still cold from the 50 degree water of the lough, and smiled. “I thought I was dead when my boat turned over. Thank you.” Her lips quivered and I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or if she was trying not to cry. If she wanted to cry, she was certainly entitled. She’d come damn close to dying in the cold, dark waters of Lough Foyle. If the ferry hadn’t passed in front of me, and if I hadn’t turned to port to pass astern of it, and if the catboat’s sail hadn’t caught my eye, and if…. That’s a lot of “ifs”, but it all boils down to the fact that Aideen was damn lucky to be alive.
She started to speak, but I stopped her. “You were the only one in the boat, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, I was just going to have a short afternoon sail.”
“OK. Hold on. I have to make a radio call.” I grabbed the VHF mic again.
“Greencastle Coast Guard, this is Jeannie. I have the single victim from the capsized catboat onboard and have the vessel in tow. The victim is wet and cold but with no injuries. Jeannie out.”
“Greencastle Coast Guard. Received. Well done. Out.”
Now I had time to deal with my new shipmate and find out more about her and, more importantly, where she was from and where I needed to take her.
“Aideen, where are you from, how do you feel and do you need to go to hospital?”
She’d stopped shivering now and her lips weren’t quivering “I’m warming up and I’m fine. I don’t need to go to hospital and I’m from Moville. I keep my boat tied up there and get out on the Foyle whenever I have time.”
I chuckled as I responded to her. “I was headed for Moville when I saw your boat capsize. I’m out of Greencastle and I was going to have dinner at Rosato’s. But, right now, I don’t think either one of us are really dressed for dinner there.”
“If we can get my boat to the lower harbour in Moville, I’ll make you dinner at my house, and I don’t care how you’re dressed.”
“Darlin’,” — the ‘Texasism’ just slipped out — “are you sure you feel up to making dinner for me? Hell, your boat just üsküdar escort capsized and you damn near drowned in Lough Foyle.”
“But I didn’t drown and I’m warm now and I feel fine. You saved my life and the very least I can do to thank you is to cook you dinner. How about it?” Her eyes flashed green fire as she dared me to decline.
I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night and I’ll be damned if I was going to pass up a chance to have dinner with a beautiful green-eyed Irish redhead who was absolutely insistent that she fix dinner for me and was showing signs of getting really miffed if I didn’t agree sometime in the immediate future.
“All right, Darlin’, you’ve convinced me. Just tell me where to park your boat and it’ll be my pleasure to be your guest for dinner”.
“Turn to starboard just after you enter the harbour and my slip is just past a forty foot trawler called the “Donegal Dreamer.”
“Donegal Dreamer, got it. On our port or starboard side?”
“Starboard, about four boats in.”
I backed off the throttle until Jeannie was moving through the water at only two knots and went aft to shorten the tow. With Aideen’s swamped catboat about ten metres behind us, we eased into Moville harbour. I turned Jeannie to starboard just as we cleared the breakwater and immediately saw the “Donegal Dreamer” just ahead to starboard.
Aideen stood up, threw the blanket aside and headed for the aft deck. “I’ll go back and hold her off as you get her up beside my slip”.
“Go for it”. I pulled the throttle all the way back and slipped the gearbox into neutral. Jeannie came to a stop in the still waters of Moville harbour as Aideen’s boat eased to a stop about a metre behind the swim step.
“If you can get the swim step over to the slip, I’ll pull her in and tie her up”,
Damn, this girl recovers quickly from a near-drowning. I put in full port rudder and goosed the Perkins. Jeannie’s stern swung neatly to starboard with no need for either the bow or stern thrusters and Aideen stepped nimbly onto the finger pier of her slip. She’d already slipped the line from Jeannie’s towing bitt and the little catboat, filled to the gunwales with the water of the Foyle, followed her sluggishly as she drew it into the slip. As the catboat’s bow touched the end of the slip, Aideen swiftly tied her off, walked lightly down the pier and stepped back aboard Jeannie.
“About twenty metres ahead and to port is the transient slip,” she told me as she returned to the wheelhouse.
I found it with no problem and as Jeannie came to a stop alongside, I dropped the fenders over the side and made the dock lines fast to the mooring cleats. Stepping onto the dock, I extended my hand to help Aideen ashore and said, “All right, pretty lady, I’m all yours.”
She gave me a sideways glance from those stunning green eyes as she said, “God, I certainly hope so”.
It only takes about ten minutes to walk from one end of Moville to the other and since Aideen’s place was above the old Anchor Bar, overlooking the harbour, it only took about three minutes to get there. She reached out and opened the door — that’s one of the nice things about rural Ireland, you don’t need to lock your doors — and entered, motioning for me to follow her. I stepped through the door and nudged it closed with my heel.
As I looked around the small living room, I noticed two things. One, the room was decorated in an extremely pleasing nautical decor. Two, and much more captivating, the owner of the room was looking steadily at me, her ravishing green eyes fixed on my grey ones, seemingly looking deep into my soul as she studied me. I returned her searching gaze unflinchingly.
“Good Lord, woman. You are absolutely beautiful. But this is a hell of a way to meet.” I couldn’t help myself. She was gorgeous. “I’m so glad I got to you in time.”
“Sean, thank you for saving my life. I feel so stupid for letting my boat capsize like that.” She shuddered as she talked and her lower lip quivered again. “I was so scared when I got dumped in the water. I wasn’t wearing a life jacket and I didn’t know how long I could stay afloat. Then I looked over toward Greencastle and I saw your boat headed toward me. From where I was, down in the Foyle at water level, Jeannie looked so big, she looked like a Coast Guard cutter and I made up my mind that I would tread water until she got to me. I saw the spray busting off her bows and the way she was half out of the water over the swells and I knew that the captain of that boat was doing all he could to get to me and I vowed not to disappoint him. I promised myself that I’d survive until he got to me.”
She’d been brave as long as she could, and her sobs erupted as she half-stepped, half-fell into my arms. I caught her and performed a passable pirouette that landed us on her couch. Her arms encircled me and she pressed her face against my chest; her body-wracking anadolu yakası escort sobs shook the couch as I held her close to me. I have no idea how long I held her like that. She eventually stopped crying, but still she held me and pressed her face against me. I was content to merely hold her; she needed holding and she felt so good, so natural, in my arms that I couldn’t conceive of releasing her. It was in no way sexual, simply one human being giving comfort to another.
She relaxed finally, her desperate clutching at me ceased and her embrace became sensual as she turned her mouth to mine. I bent my head down to meet hers and our lips touched. It felt as if an electric charge had passed between us as my hand went behind her head and pulled her closer to me. Her mouth opened and our tongues met, reaching deep and twining together.
I pulled Aideen close to me, driving my tongue deep into her mouth and accepting hers as it explored me. After a while, she pulled back, looked deep into my eyes, laid back on my lap and began to unbutton her blouse. She completed the process, reached her arms around my neck, pulled me down to her lips and kissed me again. Then, knowing that she had my complete attention, she slowly drew her blouse apart — from the bottom up — showing me first her flat belly, then the fine conjunction of her ribs into her sternum and, finally, her breasts.
They were small and they were beautiful. I’m partial to small breasts and Aideen’s were the most perfect small breasts I’ve ever seen. Each not much bigger than a fried ranch egg, but with large aureolas and thimble-sized nipples. I bent forward and took her left nipple into my mouth as my hand traced the curve of her body from her narrow waist down to her wide hips.
One of the sexiest things, to me, about a woman is the difference between her waist and her hips. I love a narrow waist and relatively wide hips. It’s the difference between the two that turns me on and Aideen had it all working. Physically, she was my perfect woman and here she was in my arms. How much of her attention to me was real and how much was a result of the trauma of being capsized in the Foyle? I guessed that I’d find out as the evening progressed.
As I suckled her nipple Aideen writhed under me, responding to my stimulus. Finally, she pressed my face away from her breast and, once again, locked her mouth onto mine.
“It’s time we went to the bed, Sean”, she mumbled into my lips. “I know I promised you dinner, but we can do that later.”
“Lead on, sexy lady. The only thing I’m hungry for right now is you.” I extended my hand to her as she stood up. Then I followed her as she led me up the stairs.
As we entered her bedroom at the top of the stairs, Aideen stopped ahead of me and slowly and sensually shed her clothes. I can’t really remember the order in which she disrobed; only the picture of her stunning nude body, with a neatly trimmed red bush and shaved pussy lips, standing before me, presented for my approval and my acceptance, remains in my mind. There was no question that I was expected to disrobe as well. And, I did.
Aideen held out her hand to me and I reached out for her; Naked, and in need of each other, we fell onto her bed. As I lay next to her, my cock was harder than I believe it’s ever been. Every fibre of my body wanted to jump on the magnificent female body beside me and “knock the lining out of her”, as an old college friend of mine used to say.
But this beautiful, sensitive, recently ship-wrecked woman next to me deserved better than just a fucking, and I knew that I’d treat her with the tenderness of a lover. Which, with some surprise, I realised that I considered her in just that way.
As I lay there, captivated by her beauty, I felt Aideen’s mouth on my cock. She covered her teeth with her lips and drew me into her. Her mouth consumed me, and I fought to control my almost overwhelming urge to grab her flowing red hair and thrust my cock deep into her mouth. Forcing myself to relax, I lay back on the bed and consciously gave myself over to her.
It seemed as if I was floating above the bed as Aideen’s mouth caressed my cock. I surrendered myself to her completely and let her take me fully into herself. She loved me with her mouth and my cock loved her mouth in return. I didn’t mouth-fuck her, she deserved better than that. But, I couldn’t hold still and my body’s involuntary responses let her know how wonderful she made me feel.
“I want you to come in my mouth”. Her green eyes met my grey ones as she lifted her head from my cock, leaving it rock-hard and vertical next to her lovely face.
“Sweetheart, about another thirty seconds of what you’ve been doing and there’s no way in the world that I’m going to be able to contain myself”, I told her honestly.
Her stunning green eyes sparkled and a smile wreathed her face as she replied, “Then I’m going to go back to doing what I’ve been doing.”
Her mouth captured my cock once again, and now I couldn’t help myself. I controlled it as best I could, but my hips thrust up toward Aideen’s mouth and I felt her check a couple times before she completely accommodated my passion. Then we found our rhythm and her nails dug into my buttocks as she drew me ever further into her questing mouth.
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