Chapter 5

I whispered, “That was so wonderful. That was the best deflowering any girl ever had. You make me so happy my love. I love you so much Flynn. I’m so glad we are married and are going to be together forever. Did you like it baby? Do you want to fuck me again and again for the rest of our lives?”

He kissed me and whispered, “You are the best baby. Nobody is better. No one is even close. A guy just needs a little time after something so wonderful. It’s just one of those differences between men and women that they tell you about, and everybody forgets to listen. So when I’m quiet and just hold you afterwards, it means it was so wonderful, I can’t even talk.”

I kissed him and whispered, “It was so good baby, I got carried away. You are right. You need some time to rest. I hope it doesn’t take long, because I want to love you again!”

Flynn was only forty-nine, so he wasn’t an old man. I doubt if the advantages of a twenty-year-old would have outweighed the disadvantages.

I was fourteen, and I’d just given my first and, hopefully, only lover my virginity. There is this thing that happens where a girl makes love for the first time; when it’s fantastic, suddenly she just can’t get enough. I was a virgin slut in every sense of the term. I made sure we made love every chance we had on our honeymoon.

My husband wasn’t like a lot of other men who would have complained that I was going to kill him. Apparently he got the message that I loved him and was his forever, so he did his best to make me happy. The result was that I was never unhappy or unsatisfied. While I would have fucked him non-stop from the first time to his dying day, I was completely satisfied with what his body could give me. I knew he wasn’t holding out on me.

One thing Flynn could give me was children. Nine beautiful red-headed girls. I didn’t use birth control, so I got pregnant on our honeymoon. My first baby, Aileen, was born when I was still fourteen, number two, Brigid, at sixteen, number three, Cara, at eighteen, number four, Cathleen, at twenty, number five, Dana, at twenty-two, number six, Erin, at twenty-four, number seven, Neasa, at twenty-six, number eight, Nora, at twenty-eight, and number nine, Shannon, when I was thirty. My age wasn’t the reason we stopped. Flynn was sixty-five when number nine was born, and we didn’t want to make a batch of unhappy kids who never knew their father.

I’m not as skillful at writing as Flynn is, but we agreed you would rather hear the story from my point of view, so that’s why I didn’t hand the pen back to Flynn.

After the honeymoon, I wanted to send the Nymph back to Pan. I figured she had taught me all I needed to know. She told me The Planner didn’t know how to keep me healthy without her immortal energy in my body. We had promised Flynn that I would never get sick and never die, after all.

I was a terror of a fourteen-year-old at that point. I insisted on a meeting with Pan.

I explained how unfair it was to the Nymph. She was so new, she didn’t even have a name. She had fucked a few Satyrs, but she never got to fuck Pan, and that was really what she was meant to do. Now she was going to live out eternity peeking at my sex life through the window of my eyes.

Pan agreed. He named the Nymph, Dana. He told The Planner that he had not planned very well. Pan figured out how to put an immortal Nymph spark in me without creating a whole new Nymph. He was quite pleased with himself, because he had solved the problem I brought to him. He was grinning as he took Dana by the hand and led her to a sacred glade to initiate her.

Imagine how boring it would be for a god to have the same hundred Nymphs always ready to fuck you, but no new ones for three-thousand years! Imagine how frustrated Dana was, having to watch my courtship and honeymoon, thinking she was stuck inside of me and would never get to fuck Pan. I heard a rumor that Dana’s initiation was legendary, and that Pan actually knocked her up. That was a first for Nymphs, because all the myths said Nymphs were sterile to be the ultimate party girl, always eager for hot sex, with no regrets or responsibilities the morning after.

When we came back from our honeymoon, Flynn trimmed his beard and I trimmed his hair. He dressed up in his best tweed sports coat and we went to see the President of St. Carloff College. We explained that Flynn was cured of his depression, his craziness, and his drinking to excess. Of course no Irish literary man was worth his salt if he didn’t drink a little!

Flynn explained that he had been inspired while we were in the middle of nowhere, up near the Canadian border, and he had an idea for a book about James Joyce’s work that would be based on unassailable scholarship but would be controversial. He thanked the President for his kind pension but Flynn said he would rather be teaching, researching, and writing if that was alright with the President. They agreed on a salary, and Flynn would start teaching again at the beginning of the next term. Flynn gave the President his proposed courses, and they negotiated between Flynn’s wish list and the College’s needs. They agreed that if Flynn’s book made the NYT Best Seller List Top Ten, and if he got talk show invitations that resulted in an increase in student applications to St. Carloff, he could teach, “Introduction to Literature” his own way and not follow the typical Lit 101 model.

Flynn can be driven, like the writer he was meant to be. We did all that our first morning back. When we drove up to our house after the meeting, we met the next-door neighbor. Bill was a longtime neighbor, and he was one of the few people in the entire town of Southridge who approved of Flynn. That’s unusual, because college towns almost always have more liberal populations.

Bill said, “Flynn, I was glad to see you had your house sound-proofed! I was afraid if you have the same effect on your little girly bride that you did on your late wife, you’d have police pounding on the door trying to rescue her.”

Flynn said, “Bill, I know we agree that a man isn’t much of a man unless he is doing his best to make the woman in his life happy in their bedroom. The problem is, you need to stop living vicariously. You need to go out there and find yourself a woman, and then do your best to make sure she is making happy noises the neighbors can hear!

“I recommend going down to the Short Horn Bar on Saturday nights. Find the almost pretty girl who looks sad and has definitely drunk too much. Take her home, tuck her in, and leave her your number. One of these days, a girl will understand what you did for her, and that you didn’t take anything for yourself. When she calls you, be brave enough to meet her. If you aren’t a total punter, she’ll be making happy noises for you before very long.”

We added on to the house several times. Flynn’s book did so well he got to teach Literature the way he wanted. The students almost all thanked him for making the changes to the class. The College President was happy, and the other professors were inspired to be more original.

Flynn’s confidence got a boost from the success of his book, and he finally wrote something original. It was wonderful to see Flynn doing what he was meant to do and writing his own stories instead of criticizing the work of others.

His first novel sold so well we became rich enough for Flynn to finally become a whiskey connoisseur.

The only person who wasn’t happy was our eldest daughter. Aileen fell for her father soon after she turned ten, just like I did. Now you are probably thinking that The Planner got Dana the Nymph to make me think I was in love with Flynn until I believed it was my idea. Let me assure you that I did all the falling all by myself.

It was totally bizarre to be ten and realize I was in love with a grown-up man, that I knew in my soul it wasn’t puppy love or a crush, and that I would love him forever. It was carved in stone. It was in the positions of the stars. Those things were set and constant, and so was my heart.

I sympathized with Aileen because I knew what she was feeling, but I also was a mom, trying to keep my daughter from growing up too fast. She is a different person. She wasn’t picked by the planner. Perhaps her love is only a crush. It was so difficult to be the mom trying to protect her, and yet understanding being in love with an older man and all the associated feelings completely.

I didn’t have The Planner insisting Aileen wait until she was fourteen, so I always told her the law was the law, and that’s the way things were. That got her from ten to fourteen, with me stalling my horny daughter every time she cried on my shoulder, telling me how much she loved and needed her father. Thank goodness she was shy and didn’t go straight to her father. He loved his daughters and would have given her anything if she asked.

Finally I explained to her how when Flynn and I had sex the first time I realized my body could not have stretched enough to take his penis inside my vagina if I had been any younger. I explained how trying to just give hand jobs or blow jobs would quickly be insufficient and how it would influence her to try to do everything before her body was ready. I told her the pain would spoil everything for her and so there wouldn’t be any romance for her. Aileen was nearly as mature as I was, so she understood what I was trying to tell her.