Moment in time -1946

 CORK, EIRE  - 6th September 1946

PATRICK GROGAN HAD developed quickly; his large tall frame making him look much older than his sixteen years. Being an only child, his parents doted on him, a situation that Patrick exploited to the full. In his parents’ eyes, he could do no wrong. What if he did get into a little trouble now and then? 

“Boys will be boys!” his mother would consistently and constantly say. His father saw only his own reflection in Patrick. So what if he were a little wild at times? His parents had no inkling that Patrick was anything other than a normal headstrong boy growing up in a loving home. Patrick, however, was far from normal. For one, he enjoyed inflicting pain and, whilst at school, had found young girls, in particular, an easy target. 

There had never been anything too overt in his actions. His bullying of smaller boys was tolerated provided it didn't get out of hand. After all, teachers had enough to worry about without standing sentinel over their charges in the playground. However, without exception, they all drew the line at perversion. Patrick's occasional forays inside the knickers of some of his female classmates in primary school and his tendency to try to fondle girls' private parts in senior school were cause for concern.  

Finally, in his fifteenth year, two months before he was due to leave school, it had all come to a head. A girl, Lucy Reardon, who was just thirteen at the time, had claimed that Patrick sodomized her in the school toilets. 

“He went up my bottom, Miss!” she blurted out tearfully to Miss Moffat, a teacher approaching retirement who had never felt a man inside her and never wanted to! 

“Goodness gracious, child! What are you saying?”  

Certainly, Lucy's anus upon examination by the local doctor was found to be lacerated, but “surely not that!” Miss Moffat exclaimed to herself. “What would the administrators say? What would the Church say? What would the community say?” Such an act in Eire was unthinkable. Sex between a man and a woman was bad enough, Miss Moffat thought, but buggery! Never! 

The headmaster, a single man of some forty-five years, was equally horrified. Not at the physical act itself for he was well versed in this avenue of approach from the rear, being a closet homosexual for a good many years. No! His alarm was for the reputation of the school. It had to be protected at all costs. He finally persuaded Lucy that she should say no more about the matter if she didn't want to bring disgrace on herself and her family. 

Patrick escaped scot-free other than being expelled, but he saw that only as an added bonus. There had only been two months of schooling left anyway, and he had never been the most scholarly of individuals. He’d miss the bullying though. 

Had Patrick Grogan been repentant of his act with Lucy? Not at all! Being unconscionable, the issue did not arise. He had tried a female from one end, and now he intended to try one from the other, the right end this time. After all, Mother Nature had been wise enough to provide a receptacle there far more accommodating for his penis than the tightness of little Lucy's arse which had proved somewhat painful to penetrate. The pain he had caused Lucy when he stretched and tore her did not enter his head. Then again, if it had, he would only have found pleasure in reflecting on it, such was the nature of the young man. 

Patrick already had his next victim firmly in his sights. His next-door neighbour was one Mary Finegan, a spinster who lived alone in her terraced house in this fair city of Cork situated on the River Lee in the Republic of Ireland. She was a flat-chested woman with legs that were thin like matchsticks, shapeless and unappealing, and a narrow face with a thin mouth and teeth that were slightly gapped.  Hers was the sort of neglect that comes from low self-esteem forged by years of indifference by others, and her own expectations of life. 

The brown hair that had been her only pride and joy as a young girl was now streaked with grey as her fifty years began to take their toll. Fate had been unkind enough already to Mary. However, when it decided to give her Patrick Grogan as a neighbour, it proved to be the cruellest blow of all. Mary Finegan held no allure whatsoever for any self-respecting man. However, to someone as perverted as Patrick, it was an entirely different matter. The fact that she was exceedingly plain, if not downright ugly, did not deter him in the least. In fact, it only intensified his desire to have her.  

Now, looking through her open bedroom window, he felt that he had planned well. Because it was high summer in Ireland and the heat had not abated as the day faded into night, she had left the window open to obtain the cool breeze that blew in from the north. It had been easy for Patrick to shin up the drain pipe and creep over her roof to her attic-type bedroom. 

He remained outside her window for some time savouring the moment. He was in no hurry. He had all night. The full moon picked Mary out clearly as she lay in bed. Her bed covers had been kicked aside and she was lying with just a sheet under her. The flimsy nightdress she wore had ridden up revealing her thin straight legs, which didn't reach normal proportions until well above the knees. Her thighs were slightly apart exposing her white cotton knickers that were so loose in the legs that her clumps of course, thick, dark pubic hair could be clearly seen. The sight caused his throbbing penis to swell even further as it sought for release. Lying there she was vulnerable, helpless, middle-aged and ugly. It was a pitiful combination that was spread before him but to his twisted mind, it was a feast to behold. 

Easing himself silently over the window ledge, he made his way softly across the floor. Reaching the bed, he stood for a few seconds contemplating her before grabbing the bottom of her nightdress which he jerked up over her face. She awoke with a start confused and afraid as she felt herself suffocating. But it was only a momentary awareness because he gave her a sharp punch to the side of the head which rendered her unconscious. He then lifted and carried her body from the room over his shoulder, down the hall and into the front parlour. Finding what he was looking for, the dining table, he tossed the white embroidered tablecloth away with his free hand and threw her on it. 

Hurriedly, he ripped her nightdress completely off and bound it tightly around her eyes so she couldn't see his face. Further strips he used to gag her and secure each of her arms to the table legs.  The sexual tension in his body increased as he discarded his clothes and pulled her knickers off. Her naked flesh next to his, was cold and hard to the touch. Barely able to control himself now, he inserted a finger into the dense bush between her legs. Her vagina was dry like a desiccated coconut and his probing finger was firmly resisted. Placing her legs, one on each of his shoulders, he rubbed his engorged wet penis up and down her dry cleft until he was able to ease its wet bulbous tip between her inner lips. Bracing his feet on the floor ready to launch himself into her defenceless passageway, he slapped her awake.   

She came to and felt at once the large, throbbing, eager member stretching the entrance to her vagina.  He felt the tightening of her leg muscles as she tried to pull away, and her frenzied threshing movements beneath his. He knew that he could wait no longer. Placing his hands under and around her buttocks, he found satisfactory purchase, and then he thrust with all his strength between the distended tight inner lips that enfolded the head of his organ. 

For a brief instant, the thick hymen resisted the battering ram being used to force an entry before splitting asunder, whereupon his thick shaft plunged in bloody triumph to its full and considerable length. She arched from the pain of his violent entry, but the hand he had clamped firmly over her mouth together with the gag he had placed there muted any noice. Their bellies touched and their pubic hairs embraced as he lingered savouring the moment. Then the room resounded over and over to the slapping of skin as their bellies bounced off each other with every savage thrust until he could no longer prolong his climax. He came in a series of deep shuddering penetrations. The broadside as he ejaculated deep within her bombarded her bruised cervix with egg-seeking semen that immediately sought out their quarry. She, for her part, felt nothing because her brain had shut down within a minute of entry.

Exhausted, he lay on top of her for a while, their wet bodies meshed together as one. Such an orgasm had been beyond his wildest dreams and he felt exhilarated as never before. Slowly, he disengaged pulling his disgorged organ from between her bloody thighs. She remained unconscious, unaware of what was happening around her; the power of her reason being unable to cope. It was thirsty work, he found, and he went in search of some refreshment. Finding a bottle of milk, he sauntered back with it, then gulped it down as he stood before her, looking at her nakedness. 

From the moment he had first ejaculated, there had been action aplenty within her belly as countless semen began their lemming-like death march through fallopian tubes designed for just such a purpose.  Mary Finegan was not quite menopausal so the spermatozoa marched with a spring in their step and joy in their hearts. All but one of them would fail in their frenetic quest for life. The one that eventually negotiated its way to safety within her egg would split before beginning its work on the tapestry of life.

He thought about taking her again but he was spent. As the first light of morning stole through the windows, Patrick too stole home. It didn’t take him long to reach the sanctuary of his own bedroom where he quickly discarded his clothes in a pile on the floor and climbed into bed. Soon, the morning sun began filtering through the lace curtains, basking the room with light. With his head buried under the sheets to shut out the brightness, he recalled the night’s events. It had been physically taxing but highly enjoyable, and he was utterly satiated. 

Images flittered through his mind and they were all of her. No thoughts of remorse but rather satisfaction at a job well done. If this very morning, Patrick had been asked to explain why he had raped Mary Finegan of all people, last night, he would not have been able to give a rational explanation. Perhaps, it had been the thought of her helplessness or the certainty that her maidenhead had still been intact that had fuelled his passion. Whatever, he had wanted her, and, as far as he was concerned, that was reason enough.  

Patrick eventually fell asleep as fatigue overtook him. It was late morning before he awoke again to the clanging of a bell as a vehicle approached and drew up outside.  Jumping out of bed, he went over to the window and saw that it was an ambulance.  Secure behind the curtains, he watched, waiting for something to happen. He didn’t have to wait long. Presently, two ambulance men emerged from the house next door carrying Mary Finegan on a stretcher. 

Loading her into the ambulance, they were about to close the doors when a police car arrived and three policemen got out, one in uniform and two in plain clothes. Just for a brief moment, Patrick Grogan began to panic and then he relaxed again. After all, there was no proof that the intruder next door had been he. She had not seen his face so there was nothing to suggest that he had raped her. If he didn’t panic, he would almost certainly be safe.  The men in the street below talked earnestly for a while although Patrick couldn’t hear what was being said. Then the policemen entered Mary’s house and the ambulance departed. Returning to his bed, Patrick was soon asleep again. He would not have slept so soundly if he had known what the future had in store for him.

For one his confidence was misplaced. The milk bottle he drank from and other articles in the house handled by him provided the police with clear enough fingerprints. Whether they would have finally matched them with Patrick’s is another thing but he didn’t wait around to find out. When the police started to fingerprint  Mary’s neighbours as a matter of routine, he took off. Using what little money he had saved and some he had found in his mother’s purse, he headed north to the border and crossed over into Northern Ireland.  

The identity of Mary’s assailant was never established so Patrick escaped punishment yet again for his sins. It was only a fleeting triumph though because fate had already found him guilty and passed judgement. The manner of his death the following year would be more painful and protracted than anything Mary Finegan or anyone else could have imagined or hoped for.   

Mary’s fate was equally bleak. When she was eventually released from the hospital, her brother, Liam, a single man, who lived in Armagh, Northern Ireland, brought her back to live with him. However, she was never the same again and died the following year giving birth to Patrick’s bastards. 

“Perhaps it was for the best!” Liam remarked to the undertaker. “Her mind had gone, you see!” 

The destiny of the twin boys Mary left behind was already sealed, not by Liam’s subsequent actions, but by forces beyond imagination.