“It’s all right. I invited ye. Come on and have a look at the animals. I might have a wee one or two, born out of season.”
When I turn to face him, I’m shocked to find I have to look up. Waaaay up. He’s sitting on the horse’s back, and the horse is about two storeys high by my estimation. He’s not so much a horse as he is a P.F. Chang’s warhorse statue.
I hesitate, not sure whether I should walk behind, next to, or in front of them. Finally, I gesture. “Lead the way.”
He lifts his chin, a devilish glint in his eye. “Come on an’ get yerself up here with me.”
My eyes bug out of my head as my heart does a backflip. “Up there? On Big Dick? With you?” I take one look at the giant head on the horse, his neck that’s about as big around as a sequoia, and his feet that have to be as big around as serving platters, and shake my head. “No, thanks. I like my body all in one piece, arms and legs connected.”
He smiles, holding an arm down, I think for me to grab. “He’s as gentle as they come. Bred for it, in fact. He’d be honored to carry you, I promise.”
My eyes dart from Donal's hand to the back of the horse. There’s just no way. “I can’t.”
“Can’t … or won’t?”
I shake my head. “I want to, but I’m too scared.” It’s a relief to admit it. I’m breaking out in cold sweats at this point. Vomit might be coming next.
“I’ll mind ye. I promise. On my honor.” When he rests his hand on his chest, his very well-muscled broad chest I can see pretty clearly through his shirt, I feel a tingle. A very strong tingle. And I feel safe.
What the hell. How often will I get propositioned by a giant Irishman to ride his Big Dick? Probably never again. I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming this right now, in fact.
“Fine. Tell me what to do.” I move closer to the horse, expecting him to dance away from me. He doesn’t. He just turns his head to the side and watches me like he’s bored. Big “Bored” Dick. It strikes me as funny so I can’t stop smiling. This is utter madness. Ireland has made me certifiable.
“Take my hand. Pull yourself up.”
I laugh. “You’re insane. I’m not a gymnast.”
“Fine. Have it your way.” He throws his right leg over the front of the horse and then slides off, down the side of him, landing right next to me. A whiff of his laundry hits me, making me want to breathe more of him in. Something about the fresh air and the scent of him … yum-Eee. He hands me the reins. “Hold him for me, would ye?”
Before I can answer, he’s gone. I hold the well-worn leather in my hand as he jogs over to his porch, takes a chair from it, and jogs back, placing it on the ground next to me. He takes the reins and puts them back over the horse’s head, grabs some of its mane, leaps up onto its back so his stomach is on it cross-wise, and then he sits up while bringing his right leg over to side astride. No wonder I didn’t see him get up before. It happened in two seconds with not even a grunt on his part. Maybe he’s a gymnast.
“Wow. You’re like … a circus guy.”
“Use the chair.”
“What?” I look over at it suspiciously.
“Put the chair here behind my leg and stand on it so you can get on.”
I pick the furniture up and start walking closer. “Is Big Dick going to be okay with that?”
“Sure. He’s used to it.”
I wonder how many other girls have ridden Donal's Big Dick. It makes me giggle in my head to think of it like that. I think that’s what gives me the courage to actually do as he instructed. I’ll show those chicks that I can hang with this horsey stuff. This giant, warhorse stuff.
I’m able to get enough height that I can put one leg over the back of the horse, but he’s way higher than I am and I look like I’m doing a stand-up split.
“Grab my hand,” Donal says, holding it out.
I do and then he leverages me up with the muscles in his arm and back. For a second I think I’m going to fall, but I grab onto his waist and struggle hard enough that I finally get my butt evenly on the horse’s back. Big Dick is very warm. He smells nice too. Now I know what I was smelling on Donal's shirt.
When I look down, I feel like I’m looking out my apartment window. The ground is way too far away. I cling to Donal like lint on wool.
“Try not to tense up. The ride will be nicer if you’re relaxed.”
“Will Big Dick throw me off?”
Donal makes a clucking sound and the horse begins to walk. I squeeze Donal harder. My butt muscles clench up so much, I’m instantly two inches taller.
“No. Never. These horses were bred by the travellers. They’re trained to babysit the children.”
“What?” I straighten my back, not sure I’m hearing him correctly with my face pressed into his shoulders. I rest my chin on his back and angle my face up. The breeze blows on my heated skin and pushes my loose hairs away. It feels amazing, and for the first time all morning, I don’t feel sick. My butt muscles relax just a tad.
“They pull wagons all day, and in the evening when it’s time to prepare food and then bed down, the children play on, around, and under the horses. The horses are expected to remain calm and not hurt them. They are the babysitters while the adults take care of the chores.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but it sure sounds romantic. “So why do you have one? Do you have kids that need horse babysitting?”
“No. But I like to try the old ways of farming from time to time and Big Dick’s a fair hand at that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s ace at pulling a plow.”
I laugh. Then I realize he’s not kidding and stop. “You actually use an old-school plow out here?” I twist my head around and take in all the acreage. I’m no expert, but that sounds like a helluva long day.
“Sometimes. Not often.” Donal sounds proud and matter-of-fact about it. I’m glad my laughing at the idea didn’t make him defensive. I love a man who has this kind of confidence. I don’t see it often. It makes me want to know him better.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to grill him some more, but the scenery that’s unfolding takes my breath away. There are green hills as far as the eye can see, and a low, stone wall meanders over the side and top of one until it disappears into the distance.
“Is this all yours?”
“Aye,” he says softly. “Been in the family for centuries. ’Twas me father’s before mine and his father’s before that, and so on.”
“Are those your sheep?” I ask, pointing to some white dots on one of the hills. Big Dick’s slow plodding rhythm is easy to match with the movement of my hips. It would be a lot easier, though, if he wasn’t as wide as the Bambino — I feel like I’m doing a split up here — but I can’t say I find it uncomfortable. It’s actually pretty nice seeing everything from up here with Donal's giant warm body in front of mine. I try not to wiggle with pleasure against him.
“Aye. I was just about to check on them before you arrived.”
“Don’t let me get in your way. Just do your thing. I’ll sit up here and admire the view.”
We continue on in silence until we get to the sheep. Normally I’d feel compelled to fill that void with words, but here in this place, it just seems wrong. I love the sound of Ireland at rest. Is that weird? Yeah, for me it is. Definitely. Maybe I have a fever.
When we’re close enough to the sheep to spit on them, I realize two things: first, there are some gnarly looking sheep vajay-jays hanging out, just like Erin said. Ew on that. And … there are babies! Fuzzy ones! One of them is super tiny, too!
“Oh my god!” I squeal. “Babies! Baby lambs!”
He turns his head to try and look at me. He’s smiling in a bemused kind of way. “You like lambs?”