Speaker 1: Welcome to Dear Nikki after dark tonight, We're going to
green in the best possible way. Here are three quick
tastes on what's coming. A girl shows up to a
party dressed in full Irish flag green bikini top and
bright orange ge string sheer cover up. She wins the
costume contest by grinding on her boyfriend and slapping her
bare ass in front of a bunch of rowdy rugby players.
A married bye guy stops a hot fire fighter still
wearing his kilt from the marching band. They end up
back at his place, where he drops to his knees,
lifts his heavy tartan and sucks the thick cock. And
a very drunk couple barely makes the home from the bar.
She gets pinned against the bedroom wall, panty's ripped to
the side, and he fucks her so deep she squirts everywhere.
That and so so much more, And now it's time
for our Nikam question for the night. What's the wildest,
most unexpected sexual thing You've ever done On Saint Patrick's Day?
I'm usually home, let's see Patrick's Day. I might have
a cocktail myself, but I've never even in my younger years,
because I'm in my late forties. I've never done anything
that I can remember. Maybe I had too much green beer.
And here's some open ended questions for those that are
in the chat tonight. Has the Luck of the Irish
ever turned a regular night add into one of the
hottest sexual memories? And what's the riskiest place you've ever
gotten frisky during a holiday like this? And would you
do it again? Feel free to drop it in then
the DMS on discord, or you can email me directly
at Nikki and Ikky at Dearniki dot com or anonymously
on the website at dear Nikki dot com under the
confessions tab. And before we get things started tonight with
your full confessions, I've got a brand new riddle that
sounds extremely dirty but actually completely clean. What's long and
hard and has come in it? And you'll get your
answer at the very end of the episode. You know
what time it is, It's time to sit back, relax,
Let's have a whiskey with some filthy cherries, of course,
and explore some erotic fantasies from people just like you
and me, Dear Nikki, the past Monday felt like a
luck of an Irish finally kicked in for us. On
Saint Patrick's Day, excuse me, My wife and I headed
to our favorite dive bar, the one where we've posted
those cheeky ads before, inviting strangers to come flirt with her,
maybe spark something fun. The last few times crickets just
us sipping drinks and laughing about the big talk that
never should up. But this night was different. We got
a handful of messages saying guys might swing by about
a half an hour. In one text, I'm here, I
point him our way, and suddenly there's this stranger sliding
into our booth. Harmless chit chat at first, but I
couldn't resist bragging about how insanely hot my wife is,
how perfect our tits are, how they drive me wild.
Talking about her body like the right in front of her,
with him nodding and stealing lances, The air got thick, fast, supercharged.
We both stepped away to the restroom at different times,
and when we come back, she deliberately slides in between us.
I catch him leaning in close, murmuring something, how low
that makes her smile, that little naughty smile. We keep
it light, though, reminding him this is just intros no
play tonight, just meeting someone from online. He's chill about it.
We order another round and eventually call it a knight.
Walking him out, my wife slips her hand into her
pockets and pulls out her freshly removed panties, still warm
from her body, and hands them over like it's almost
nothing thing. He pulls her in for a goodbye hug,
and I remind him, don't forget to feel those tits.
Without missing a beat, he reaches in and gives them
both a firm apression of squeeze. She lets out this
soft please sound, and then he's gone. I'll ride home.
I'm buzzing as soon as we're inside. I tell her
I need to taste her right now. She hops on
to the bed. I peel those leggings down slow and
dive in tongue, working her pussy like I'm starving. She
reaches into the night stand, hands me her rabbit dildo,
and I start fucking her deep and steady while I
suck hard on her clit. Then she whispers she wants
to TVP. Her dildo and my cock both stretching her.
She guides them in pushes them back against me like
a woman possessed, grinding until I can't hold back and
fill her up. It was electric. One little bar flirt
and a pair of handed off panties, a quick grope
under the neon lights, and suddenly our bed felt like
the hottest place on earth again. Later that night in
the DMS, her pick of herself stroking those panties wrapped
around him, finishing all over them, proof that the luck
kept going. Such a tame little encounter by our standards,
but damn it lit us up. Anonymous admirer in Green Lace,
your secret, Shamrod Stroker Again, I have never handed my
panties to anybody. It's just not something I would think
about doing. You know. I mean to each their own,
and your miles may vary. I just I like my panties.
They're pretty to saying that was a very bold move though,
just to hand those over like hay stud although it
doesn't sound that corny. Probably my question is did you
know she was going to do it? Has she done
it before? Is this like a go to move when
she's into somebody and you're just meeting for the first time,
And how did it feel watching him squeeze her tits
right there in the parking lot. Did it make you
want to drag her home? Even faster? Into those in
the chat or even listening live? Ever had a just
a flaying night turn into a pure bedroom fire like this?
And what's your favorite low key public tease that explodes
at home later? Dear Nikki. A while back, when I
was twenty four, I was in this long distance thing
with a twenty two year old college girl finishing up
out of state. We weren't exclusive her call since she
was away, but her parents had cash, so she'd fly
back to Socow every couple of weeks or so I'd
get to bury myself in her other weekend like clockwork.
That year, her spring break lined up early, right on
Saint Patrick's Day, one of my favorite fake holidays for
day drinking and chaos. My buddies were hitting our favorite
Irish pub for breakfast beers to kick things off, but
I told them I'd roll in late morning. She was
landing early, promised to pop by her folks really quick.
Then we'd grab a cab and cab it over for
a lunch. Rushed place turned into green clad zoo. The
plain delayed parents grilling are about graduation in six weeks
She finally showed up at my door around eleven, already
radiating I need it now energy. I was itching to
get hit to the bar, but she walked in, peeled
off her shirt without a word, and those perfect d
cup tits were right there, begging close at the floor.
I figured a quickie wouldn't kill the vibe. She shoved
me back on the bed, me naked, and when we
devoured each other, mouths crashing my hands and lips all
over her breasts while she stroked me hard. Then she
surprised me no condom. Sank down bare, grinding her clint
against my base, rocking slow and deep. Do we need one?
I mumbled around the nibble started the bill last month,
She hissed through gritted teeth, Come anywhere you want? That
flipped a switched. I got harder thinking about filling her up.
She ruled me like usual at first. She knows I
last forever on bottom. Sometimes can't finish that way, so
let her chase her high while I sat up more,
sucking her tits and hands roaming her ass. We'd tease
ass before play, just the finger tip, nothing more. I
got bold, licked my little finger, slicked it in her
wetness and reached around and slid it into her tight
little hole. Her eyes snapped open, shocked the pure heat.
Then she bit her lip, moaned loud, and fucked herself
harder on my cock and finger. Her whole body shook
with this massive, shuddering orgasm, the most intense I'd ever
seen from her in six months of screwing. Still on top, panting,
she looked down and leveled up. Do you want to
fuck my ass? Hell? Yes? She lifted off, lipped onto
her stomach, grabbed Kae Why from my drawer, my solow
Night's best friend, looped us both up. I stacked pillows
under her hips for an angle, told her to spread
her cheeks. She did. I pressed in slow. My dick's gurthy,
not huge, but enough. That's a stretch. She grunted, head turned,
and as the head pop passed her ring. Took five
careful minutes to bury it all in, letting her adjust,
squirming between moans and little pain grunts that turned into
pleasure fast. Then I started thrusting gentle at first building.
Fuck that feels amazing. I can't believe you're fucking my ass,
she groaned. She pushed up into doggie, slimming back, taking
me deeper. The grip was unreal, too tight, too good,
I warned her. I was close. Finish my ass, you motherfucker,
she yelled, biting the pillow with a muffle. I unloaded
deep pulse after hot pulse, groaning into her ear as
I filled her, collapsed on the back, spent, pulled out slow,
she farted. We cracked like idiots, kiss soft. How was that?
I couldn't tell if I was gonna come or ship myself,
she laughed, Still not sure, but I loved it again.
I needed recovery time, and we were all ready late,
five minutes to recharge, but friends are waiting. We can
both fuck now. Drink lighter, she pouted, but showered quick
with me. We made the pub in just in time,
grabbed beers, food, laughed with the crew. Hours in buzz
I pulled her closer and whispered, your ass is mine
now right. She nodded, sipped her guinness, eyes locked on mine,
half drunk fully horny. I'm not sure how much longer
I want to stay. All I can think about is
you're cocking my ass again. My panties are soaked with
your calm, leaking out and I want more. I slipped
my friend one hundred dollars for the tab, hailed a
cab five minutes later. Saint Patrick's luck hit different that year,
Lucky Leprechaun with a filthy mind your shamrock filled secret slut.
I love the whole quickie before we go out, absolutely
one percent right. I'm one of those when I pop
into phil in u UK, especially after we walked through
the door, and regardless that I'm like, what is it
when you travel time hungover? I'm gonna call it right
now because I'm drawing a blank h jet lagged. That's
the word I'm looking for. But when we I don't
think I've ever farted during sex, and I definitely wouldn't
tell anybody felt like I wanted to take a shit.
Definitely not two things I wouldn't say in any given
time during Yeah. No, So to my filthy shamrock slut.
When she first went bare and said come anywhere, did
you know instantly the day about was get way dirtier?
Or was asplay the real surprise? How did you that
cab ride home feel with her whispering about hunting round two?
And to those in the chat or listening live. Ever
had a holiday hookup turning into an unexpected first at
old cream Pie or whatever that ruined you for the
rest of your party. What's the hottest We're late but
fuck it moment you've ever had. I don't like to
be late, so I really don't have a late oh
fuck it kind of rule. I just do not like
to be late anywhere, so I really don't have one.
Maybe I shouldn't make one, so that way I can
say I have one, because it's really a rule. But
my OCD would really get me. Guys, my well, my
anxiety would be I don't know if I could have
a goorchasm. I'm just that person. Oh t Niki One
Saint Patrick's Day. In my late twenties, my then boyfriend
and I got an invite to a proper Irish tame
house party. The dress code was loose, just come dressed Irish,
so I decided to get creative. I went as a
walkin Irish tricolor emerald green bikini top, fluorescent orange g string,
and my pale white belly as the middle stripe. Over
it all a sheer white beach cover up that had
almost nothing. The colors popped right through. My boyfriend rocked
a salmon orange board shorts and a white tea. I
had been dyed green on the top half a rough,
but the couple meters away we were a matching set
of living flags. We rolled in around four the party.
It was already in full swing, drinks flowing, old and
new Irish tunes blaring, everyone seeing, swinging, shouting, and having
the best carrick. No one had mentioned there was a
best costume contests, judging by the host, a pack of
rugby lads. My boyfriend played with a competitive streak, kicked
in hard. We insisted on being judged asapair, saying concept
plus I already had a filthy little plan brewing. We
made the final tree, the decider, loudest applause, rowdiest cheers
on the crowd. When our names werecalled, we stepped up.
I peeled off my sheer cover slow, let it drop,
then drape myself over him like a prize, grinding my
hips against his thigh, turning and slapping my bare ass
against hard enough to make it jiggle. The rugby boys
lost their minds, whistle roars, paked pulp, pure chaos. We won,
hands down, winning and stripping plus grinding in front of
a full room of drunk, cheering men had me soaked.
The drinks had me buzzing, and suddenly I was aching.
We slipped away to the back yard, found a shadowy
spot in the side of the house, and started devouring
each other, kissing, turned to hands underclothes, his fingers sliding
inside me. But it wasn't enough. I needed him now.
I braced my hands against the cool cement wall, tugged
my g string to the side, freed his cock over
the waistband, over those broad shorts, thick hard. Ready I
was dripping. I could feel my wetness cooling down the
insides of my thighs, half way to my knees. He
pressed in slow it first seven inches, but gurthy, stretching
me open just right. That first full slide always gets me,
the delicious resistance giving away to stretch, the sudden fullness
that makes my jaw go slack, mouth, dry, pussy, flood, cock, drunk, bliss.
Nothing beats it. Then he went to work, strong, hands
clapped my hips, holding steady as he thrust deep and steady.
I pushed back to greet him, meet him, greedy for more.
He shoved my bikini top up, one hand kneading my breast,
the other anchoring me. Pace built harder, faster, until I
felt the edge rushing in. I reached back, grab his arm.
He slid his hand from my tit to my throat,
new ankle, nailing my g spot in every stroke that
was it. Orgasms slammed through me, shaking, buckling, knees clenching
around him as he pulled me tight against his chest.
He grunted low, buried deep, and I felt the hot
rush of his com letting inside me. Pulse after a pulse,
we froze there, panting, euphoria washing over us. He softed
and slipped out seconds lighter, his loads started laking, warm,
then cooling on my skin. I turned kissed him long
and deep, lazy, satisfied, a little dizzy. We straightened our
clothes as much as we could, pulled the cover back
on top, and snuck back inside. But the afterglow was
short lived. Every step made his come so deeper into
my bikini bonds. The sheer fabric shifted and I could
smell him, musky sacks drenched wafting up between my legs.
The party noise we felt distant. All I could think
was we need to get out of here. We need
to leave now and finish what we started properly privately.
Again and again, we didn't much much, last much longer
before the making our excuses and bolting. Your emerald green
exhibitionist still dripping and orange and green. I've never been
to an Irish party. I love that you turn yourselves
into flags. But here's the thing. You didn't rin because
your outfit was good. You won because you did a
teasing debt dance sex and with a room full of
guys that thought with her dicks. Let's be honest. I
mean I think you were so you know, I'll give
you that. And for my emerald eyed exhibitionist, when you
slapped your ass and the crowd erupted, did you already
know you'd be dragging him outside minutes later? Or did
the wind flip the switch? How long did you two
actually stay after sneaking back in before you could take
the wet reminder between your thighs anymore? And those in
chat or listening live ever won a costume contest, then
turned the victory lap into a public foreplay at the
end in a quick, risky fuck, or that post sex leak,
become the hottest secret while you're still surround people. What's
the wildest we have to leave right now? Moment from
a party? I'd really like to know, Dear Nikki. Spring
break was colliding with Saint Patrick's day perfect storm. Brandon
and I were with our crew at the bar, Green
Beer's flowing pull queues, clacking darts, flying, everyone loud and loose.
By midnight, the place was sweaty, shouting, mess two, crowded,
too chaotic, so he decided to bail early and stumbled
back to his apartment only a few blocks away. Thank god,
because we were both hammered. The walk was a giggling,
swaying five minutes of pure drunken bliss. We burst through
the door, laughing too loud, slimming it shut, and straight
for the bedroom. I was dying to get out of
my outfit a tight black leather mini floral lace tights,
platform lace up booties and that green button up and
prepared no clothes. He figured I'd steal one of his
big white teas. I started stripping down to my underwear,
but before I could grab his shirt, Brandon's arms locked
around my waist from behind his lips found my neck
hot wet kisses, and I gasped and let the tea drop,
moaning as I arched back into him. One hand slid
up to cut my left breast, kneading hard through the lace,
while the other dove into my panties, fingers circling my clit,
then slipping inside. I was a whimpering, panting, legs shaking
as they worked me faster. Then he spun me, pinned
me to the wall, ripped my panties aside. They tore
a little hot, and they yanked his pants and boxers down.
In one frantic move. I reached for his cock, clumsy
and slow from the booze, stroking a shaft lazily while
he groaned. I guided his tip to rub my clip,
moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors. He grabbed my ass, lipted,
I mean like I weighed nothing, legs wrapped tight around
his waist, and he thrust in deep, one hard shove
that stretched me full and had me yelp. Nails rake
down his back as he started pounding deep, fast, relentless.
I grabbed my hips to meet him, face buried in
his stack, nibbling and sucking at his skin. His hands
squeezed my ass harder. I pulled back just enough to
kiss him, tongues sliding slow and soft. Then I bit
his bottom lip before diving back in. We were messy,
drunk and perfect. Oh fuck, he scrowled suddenly, What I'm
gonna come? He froze mid thrust, teeth clenched and unloaded
hot thick spurts, flutting me fast and deep. It hit
me like a wave. I clinched around him, squirting hard
as I screamed. My whole body's shaking against the wall.
We stayed locked like that for a minute. He pinned me,
still buried inside, breath ragged. I lowered one leg. He
pulled out slow, and the rest followed. Come dripped down
my thighs As I wobbled to the bathroom, he followed
right in. Shower on water, hot, we washed each other,
hands soapy, over bodies, shampoo and hair, laughing between kisses.
We fooled around under the spray, grinding, touching, teasing, but
no sex. Shower. Sex is always a disaster anyway, slippy, awkward,
someone always ends up with the banged elbow. We just
played rens dried off and let the steam sober us up,
a little clean, spent and still buzzing, crashed into bed
after that best kind of saint, Patti, send off your
tipsy greened eyed temterest that still tasting get us and him?
I agree. I mean I think four Playing the shower
is washing and touching, letting your hands explore, getting all
dirty in the best kind of clean way. That's kind
of shower or play alike, Just saying. And to my
tipsy green eyed tendest, when he lifted you and slammed in,
were you already right on the edge from his fingers
or did that first thrusts push you over? How did
it feel when his come leaked out of you as
you walked to the shower, still drunk and wobbily but satisfied.
And I have to say, when you've thrust in hard,
when you're really round up, sometimes it's that bite that
doesn't really push you over the edge, but enough that
just just saying. And to the people in chat and
those are listening, ever had a sloppy, intoxicated bar exit
turned into a wall sex magic at home? Or do
you have to go to or we're too drunk for
precision but not too drunk for fun. Move what's your
favorite part of the night? It ends in shower cuddles
instead of round two. Dear Nikki. This past Saint Patrick's Day.
I was thirty five, married and by finally left. The
green beer and the parade vibes pushed me past the
usual flirting. The streets were packed, bagpipes, screaming drums, thumping
everyone in green and half drunk. By noon, I wandered
the route, soaking it in eyes, luring a little long
on the firefighters and cops marching in their kilts with
the bagpipes and drum band, those heavy pleats swinging, bare
legs flashing under the sun. Yeah, it got my pulse up.
After the parade, the crowd funneled into a nearby bars.
I ended up when one that was walled wall first responders,
firefighters mostly still in partial uniform, a few still rocking
full kilt look from the band. I started chatting with
one of them, tall, broad, easy laugh, salt and pepper beer,
kilt still on like he couldn't be bothered to change.
We hit it off fast, bantered about the parade, bad
Irish accents and shots of jamieson the chemistry was obvious
every time our eyes met it lingered. A couple hours
and a free A few drinks later, he leaned in close,
voice low over the noise. Want to get out of here,
no hesitation. We slipt out cab to his place, a
quick ride away, door barely shut behind us. Before we
were on each other, kissing hard, hands everywhere. He backed
up against the couch, still fully kilted, and I dropped
to my knees right there in his living room. The
fabric was a heavy wool, warm from his body. I
slid my hands up his thighs, under the pleats, feeling
the heat reading off of him, lifting the kilt slow
and unwrapping im present his thick cocks sprang free, already
half fat and heavy, no underwear, of course tradition. I
wrapped my hand around the base, gave a slow stroke,
then leaned in and took you in my mouth. The
taste of him, clean sweat, faint soap, pure man, mixed
with a lingering of whiskey in my tongue. He groan deep,
one hand resting in the back of my head, no pushing,
just grinding. I worked him slow at first, savoring the
weight of my tongue the way he thickened and pulsed
as I sucked deeper, bobbed my head, hollowed my cheeks,
let my lips drag along every inch. The kilt draped
over my shoulders like a curtain blocking out the room.
Nothing existed except his cock, feeling my mouth, and low
rough sounds he was making. He started rocking his hips
a little, fucking my face gently while I moaned around him.
I reached up, cupped his balls and rolled them lightly
while I whirled my tongue under the head. His breathing
got ragged, gripped, tightening in my hair buck Just like that,
he growled. I picked up the paste, sucking harder, whatter,
taking him to the back of my throat until my
eyes watered. He lasted longer than I expected, but when
he got close, he warned me with a strained gunn
a cup, and I doubled down, wanting every drop. He came, hard,
thick ropes, heading my tongue, hot and salty. I swallowed
it all, kept sucking soft through the aftershocks until he
shuddered and pulled me off gently. We both laughed, breathless
and still in that damp kilt me on my knees,
a swollen lips and a stupid grin. He helped me up,
kissed me deep, tasting himself on me, and we ended
up crashing on his couch for a while, talking shit
and trading lazy touches until I had to head home,
still thinking about that kilt every time I see bagpipes.
Now you're kilt living, cock hungry secret, married, but marching
to my own drum. Yeah, there is something about a
man in a kilt. I have to grieve you. I know.
I've never read one of those romance novels where the
man's in a kilt and having his clan colors and
all that. No, and I probably will never get my
Bret into a kilt. That might be like bad, like
I don't know. I have a feeling that's like like
not gonna happen. And to my cock hungry secret, when
you first lifted the kilt and saw him barre underneath,
did it hit you like yep, this is happening or
were you already too far gone to think straight meaning
cock hungry? And did he say anything filthy? Oh I
are down there? Or was it all grunts and groans?
I don't mind the grunts and groans. I don't like
those better than filthy talk. I guess it really depends
on who's doing the film talking right into those in
the chat in listening live, ever hooked up with someone
still in uniform costume from an event and did the
outfit stay on the whole time? And what's the hottest
public persona at private filth moment you've had on a
holiday or any other day. I'd really like to know.
I love Saint Patrick's Day and it's I'm so excited
for those who wrote in with all their Saint Patrick's
Day stories. This was really cool. I don't know if
we've ever had a Saint Patrick's Day show or a
meaning story on the show. The main show Meaning these
confessions between the girl who used her body as an
Irish flag and got bucked against the wall after winning
the contest, the married guy living out his kilt fantasy
on his knees, and the drunk couple who turned a
simple walk home into wall banging, cream pie and squirting chaos.
The theme is clear. These stories teach us that a
little holiday buzz, the right costume, and some liquid courage
can make people be bold as hell. The best sex
often happens when you stop overthinking and just ride the
chaotk horny energy of the night. Never underestimate what a
lifted kilt, a winning grind in front of a crowd,
or a quick exit from a bar can lean to.
And now it's time for your answer for your riddle,
what's long and hard and has covenant a cucumber? I
mean it's simple and as well as Oh yeah, and
I'm sure one of you cheated and looked. I'm gonna
bet money on it. Thanks for raising a glass and
maybe more with Nikki after dark on this Saint Patrick's night.
If these filthy tails left you throbbing for your pot
oh knotty stories, can bess them anonymously in my DMS
on discord or in the channel if you like, or
you can send them to my email at Nikki n
Ikky at Dearnikki dot com or through the website at
Dearniki dot com under the confessions tab Stay lucky, stay horny,
and me the only thing getting pinched tonight will be
your imagination until our next sinful session. Aaron Gobra and
go braless if you dare. Good night, everybody,