Bad Penny (30 page)

Katie stood up slowly and made a big show of rubbing her sore bottom, only covering herself when everyone had had a good look. As she sat down again, the stripper started his routine, concentrating on Katie but making sure that all of us got a good view. He also did a lot of it standing on the table, which stopped Vicky and Amber finishing me off. I like my men big and powerful, rather than specifically muscular, yet he was good-looking and moved well, which only served to add to my sexual high. He went all the way, too, removing the ridiculous fluffy pouch that was his final garment to reveal a fair-sized cock and a pair of exceptionally hairy balls.

For a moment he stood there, naked, his genitals thrust to within a foot of Katie's face. Then he bent forward and whispered something in her ear. I saw Katie smile and throw Ginny an uncertain glance, then exchange words with her. He stood back, grinning to himself as he began to dress and, a moment later, Ginny leant across the table and put her head close to mine and Vicky's.

‘He wants a suck,' she whispered, ‘and Katie's up for it but doesn't want everyone to know. I'm going to say I want a breath of fresh air in a while, and she'll come outside with me. He'll be waiting in the car park. Could one of you come to help keep watch?'

‘Sure,' I volunteered, before Vicky had a chance.

Ginny waited a good ten minutes after he had gone to get up, during which time I finished off the best part of a bottle of champagne. I had no intention of depriving Katie of her cock, but also had no intention of just playing lookout. The three of us walked out together, getting no more than a curious glance from her friends. Outside, the air was cool and I could feel my head swimming as Ginny and I took Katie's hands. The car park was illuminated by a single dull yellow light, and we could see the white Ford that the stripper had told us to look out for. He was leaning on the car, still dressed as a traffic warden but with a heavy overcoat over his uniform. If he was surprised to see three girls, he gave no sign of it, but smiled as we approached.

We lost no time, the stripper moving to the rear of his car and into the shelter of a mini-bus. The light was dim, but I could clearly see his cock as he pulled it clear of his fly. He took his balls out, too, and held the whole lot forward for our inspection. His cock was already half-stiff, and I guessed that he had been playing with it in the car in anticipation of Katie's mouth. Ginny sat on the bonnet of his car as Katie sank to her knees in front of him. I knew exactly how she felt: bottom warmed, well punished and more than willing to reward the man who had chastised her with oral sex. I knew Matthew liked to spank girls before having his cock sucked, because he'd done it to me. Now Katie was about to give the same treatment to a stranger, while Ginny and I watched sidelong and pretended to chat.

She had taken his cock in her hand and was stroking it, her mouth a little open in preparation for him. He was holding his coat open and watching her, waiting for the moment when she took his erection in her pretty mouth. I was tempted to try and frig off, or to get Ginny to lick me, but every car there represented a customer who might emerge from the restaurant at any time and so I didn't dare. All he had to do was close his coat, but I'd have had a lot more covering up to do.

I looked round again to find Katie sucking him. Her eyes were closed in bliss and she was rocking back and forth on her heels to allow his erection to slide in and out of her mouth. He turned to me and gave me the most wonderful look, as if daring me to be as dirty as my friend. It was more than I could resist. With a last glance in the direction of the restaurant I sank to my knees and put my face next to Katie's. I pressed my cheek to hers and put my tongue out to lick him, only to have him transfer his erection from her mouth to mine. It felt great, the swollen head taut and firm against my tongue as I sucked, his taste strong in my mouth. I sucked for a bit and then passed it back, only to find Ginny pushing in next to me, eager for her share.

We forgot all about watching as the three of us indulged ourselves with his balls and penis, licking, sucking and kissing until he began to moan. I realised that he was going to come and quickly pulled his cock from my mouth and put it to Katie's. She gaped willingly, taking it as far in as she could as he grunted and jerked. White sperm erupted from her lips and I knew that he had come in her mouth. Ginny and I began to lick at his cock and Katie's face, lapping the sperm up eagerly until our mouths were full of it. As he pulled back, with his erection already shrinking, I leant forward and opened my come-filled mouth for a long sticky kiss with both my friends. As we shared his come between us, touching tongues in the glorious, sticky goo, my need to come reached crisis point. I pulled back and wiped my mouth.

‘Will you lick me, Katie?' I asked. ‘Ginny can feel my bottom and . . . sorry, I don't know your name, but would you like to play with my tits while I come?'

‘It's Marco,' he answered, ‘and yeah, I'd love to, but someone's coming.'

We hastily rearranged ourselves, which was just as well, as the people turned out to be the party in the mini-bus behind which we were sheltering. We gave them a polite good evening as they approached and, if they were suspicious, then they didn't say anything. Unfortunately, once the mini-bus had gone, we were deprived of our best cover, besides which their appearance had broken the desperation of my need. Instead of carrying on, the three of us went back, leaving Marco to drive off, hopefully well satisfied.

My cab arrived just a few minutes later, forcing me to leave the warm, friendly atmosphere of the party and face the prospect of the long, lonely journey home. All the way to Westbury station, I sat slumped in the back of the cab, wondering faintly if the driver would swap a blow-job for a lick of my pussy but never plucking up the courage to ask.

The train was one of those late-night ones that take peculiar routes and stop at every station. My destination was Birmingham, after which I would be able to change to an express that would whisk me home. The carriage was warm and faintly damp, making me feel sleepy as I chose a set of seats on my own and slumped into one. There was a group of lads heading back from some late-night jaunt at the far end; otherwise I was alone.

I was desperately in need of an orgasm and, had it not been for the lads and the presence of an inspector, I think I would have pulled up my dress and just done it on the spot. I even considered the train loo but, even in my drunken and excited state, one glance was enough to change my mind. Instead, I just sat there, surreptitiously stroking myself through my dress and thinking about sex, and specifically men's cocks.

Articles in magazines are always going on about the size of men's cocks and whether or not it matters. It certainly does to men, whose egos are deeply affected by the size of their cocks, be they chipolatas or cucumbers. It matters to some women as well, certainly to me, but not in the conventional way. Once it's inside, length isn't all that important, although thickness is. Morphologically speaking, only the first third or so of the vaginal canal is ectodermic in derivation, so unless a man has less than about two inches, it really doesn't matter. Having said that, I certainly know it if someone bumps my cervix. What's nice about size is not the feeling when it's in, but the pleasure of looking at it, handling it, sucking it and generally giving it loving attention. From that point of view, my attitude is the bigger the better, and I would love to have one big enough to really hug and rub my whole body against.

Then again, small cocks have their uses. I love being buggered, but can't take a really big cock up my bottom at all, while even medium-sized ones tend to hurt if the man gets carried away. A nice small one goes in easily enough and gives me that lovely breathless feeling without the pain.

Appearance can be important as well. I don't think a cock could ever really be called pretty, but a really well-formed one might be considered handsome. Marco the stripper's had been like that: thick, smooth and fleshy with a round head. It had been a joy to suck and fondle, and I would have liked to spend a lot more time over it. It had also changed size a lot from limp to erect, which I like. It's nice to have a cock at least double in length as the man becomes more and more excited, and I find the sort that just spring up and stay much the same size a bit of a let-down.

Handsome cocks are nice, but there's also a certain bizarre delight in ugly ones. The janitor, Colin, with whom I had occasional rough sex at the university, was like that. His cock was big, and heavily veined, and a bit bent, and a dirty red-brown colour. Instead of repelling me, it fascinated me, and really brought out my submissive feelings. He used to hold me by the hair and make me suck him for ages, which was bliss, especially as he often spanked me first in just the way Marco had spanked Katie.

In a way, a cock is the very definition of obscenity. Even when limp, a man's penis is an extraordinarily rude object, protruding out from under his belly along with his balls and set in a nest of hair. Erect, it becomes far more so: a bloated, straining thing just aching to be put to a girl's body, be it her hands, her pussy, her tits, her mouth, her bumhole – anywhere, as long as it's sheathed in soft, female flesh. It's like that rhyme about girls being made of sugar and spice and all things nice – sweet, demure, clean. Boys are made of slugs and snails and puppy dog's tails – dirty, rude and vulgar; and constantly desperate to fill the pretty, delicate girls with their obscene cocks. Only, of course, it's the girl who has been shamed when she's given in to their sordid demands and handled their cocks, or sucked them, or let them into her pussy.

I shivered at the thought, thinking of some of the men who had given me the rough, dirty sex that I crave. There had been plenty, and at that moment there wasn't one who I wouldn't have given in to. From gangly, dirty-minded Ryan who had given me my first sexual experience by coming all over my bottom while I posed for him to the over-muscled Marco whose cock I'd just helped Katie King suck, any one of them could have had me any way they wanted. I'd have gone down on them right there in the carriage, or knelt on the seat with my dress up and my panties down to let them have me from behind. If the ticket inspector came, well then, I'd just have to accommodate him as well, maybe in my mouth, or up my bottom.

The train stopped and the lads got out, tumbling noisily on to the platform. As they passed I heard one make some boastful and probably false remark about some girl. I laughed to myself. I don't really like laddish types but, at that moment, all it would have taken was one little push and I'd have let them all have me, one by one or all together.

My carriage was now empty, and my thoughts turned back to masturbation as the train picked up speed. A glance at my map showed that, while it was only a little way to the next station, there was a long gap afterwards. All I had to do was wait, then take a seat near the middle and sit so that I was shielded below the waist but could see both doors. With a hand up my dress, I would be able to get to my pussy and achieve the direct stimulation of my clit that I needed so badly. I relaxed, leaning my head against the padded seat and letting my mind drift back to thoughts of men's cocks.

I closed my eyes and let my hand stray to my belly, only half aware of what I was doing. My flesh felt soft yet resilient through my dress, tempting me to slip my hand further down. I cupped the mound of my pussy, kneading gently, which produced a really satisfying feeling. My middle finger found the groove between my pussy-lips, taking my pleasure a step higher. I could feel the material of my dress and the panties beneath it, with warm, damp flesh underneath.

Somebody coughed, a small, diffident noise, yet enough to make me jump and send the blushes straight to my cheeks. As I opened my eyes, I found the inspector standing directly opposite me and looking at me with a curious expression.

‘Do you have your ticket, miss?' he asked.

‘Er . . . yes, somewhere,' I stammered, blushing furiously as I thought of him watching me play with my pussy through my dress.

As I rummaged through my bag in a desperate search for my tickets, I compounded my embarrassment by spilling some of the contents, including a packet of condoms. He said nothing, but accepted the tickets when I had finally found them and continued down the train.

When he had gone, I sat staring out into the night, feeling thoroughly embarrassed and more turned on than ever. I also felt cowardly, because I knew that, in my position, Ginny would have propositioned the guard. Amber wouldn't have been interested, but Vicky and even Katie might have had the courage to go ahead where I hadn't. I much prefer to give in, and have only really made advances when I've been pretty certain of the outcome. He'd seen me playing with myself and his expression had at least hinted at taking pleasure in what he saw, yet I hadn't had the guts to ask for what I wanted.

It was agony, knowing that at that very moment I might have been sucking on his cock while I played with myself instead of staring out of the window and feeling fit to explode. I was also exhausted, warm and drunk. I was vaguely aware of the station and the train starting again, but must have been asleep moments later.

I can't have been asleep for long, but I dreamt I was being chased by weird little goblins with cocks as long as their bodies. It faded just when they caught me and started to strip me, which was a pity, but I came round to the realisation that something was wrong. I was still in a half-dream, aware that the goblins weren't real but that something had changed. My legs felt different and, after some very hazy thought, I realised that they were bare. Somehow my dress had ridden up, and my legs were showing.

In my sleepy, drunken state, it seemed a really nice idea to just lie there with my legs bare, showing off to anyone who came past. The dress was right up, so high in fact that the front of my panties might be showing. I tried to remember if I'd pulled it up in order to masturbate, and wondered if I'd done it in my sleep. I hadn't; someone had done it to me, and that someone was watching me.