Friday Night And Wednesday Morning

It was still early (8.30ish) on Friday night and my friend Julia and I were about to leave the Centurian Bar near the railway station in Newcastle when a male voice called to me; "Nice jeans, what make are they?"

Stunned; I stopped in my tracks and fingered the spangly logo on the back pocket. "Victoria Beckham," I replied as I looked up to see the voice belonged to a chubby thuggish looking bloke wearing a peach coloured CP Company polo shirt, "Why?"

"They make your arse look bloody sexy!" He shouted and his boisterous friends all laughed out loud as I blushed and stuck my tongue out.

He smiled and raised his glass as I left the bar with a little spring in my step.

"The cheeky bugger!" Julia giggled as she curled her arm inside mine and we crossed the road towards the Union Rooms. "I know; but I can't remember the last time somebody gave me a compliment and meant it." I sighed as we queued to get into the next pub.

It was true; I'm 37 and divorced with two young daughters; who had just gone on holiday to Spain with their father this morning. I've had a couple of boyfriends and one night stands since my marriage broke up four years ago, but each one had been as big an idiot as my ex-husband. As we eventually made our way into the left hand side bar I struggled to remember the last time I'd had sex; then struggled even harder to remember the last time I'd enjoyed it! Thank God for Anne Summers sex toys!

My biggest problem was living in a small village where everyone knows your business and I can't even go into Darlington anymore in case I bump into one of my ex-brother in laws or their cousins; which is why Julia and I had jumped on a train to Newcastle tonight.

"What's the matter?" Jools asked after she'd ordered our drinks.

"Nothing," I thinly smiled.

"They'll be back before you'll realise that they've gone." Julia told me; thinking that I was missing my kids.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, before we made our way to the corner near the giant TV screen.

I soon cheered up by 'people watching', gossiping and gazing at the TV which was showing the final instalment of Big Brother with the sound turned off.

There was a bit of a commotion at the entrance which made me look up. It was the bloke in the peach polo shirt and his friends arguing over whose round of drinks it was.

He immediately caught my eye and cheekily winked. Seconds later he was standing next to us.

"Are you following us?" Julia asked as she sipped her Vodka and Red Bull.

"Did you want me to follow you?" He grinned as his friend passed him a pint of Guinness.

"Not really." Julia pouted then gave me a little smile and a nudge.

"Jesus!" he gasped as he looked at the TV screen, "can't you lot go out for a drink without having to watch this load of shit?"

"It's not shit," Julia told him, "and it's the final tonight. They're the last three."

As they bantered about the merits of Big Brother I looked him up and down.

He had close cropped hair, just like his friends, only his was flecked with grey making him look the oldest. He was a bit overweight but his arms and chest looked like he worked out in a gym. He must have been in his late forties or even fifty and had gorgeous brown eyes that twinkled like a naughty schoolboy and he had a fading suntan. We both towered above him in our heels as he sat back on the edge of a table drinking his Guinness and laughing with my friend.

"Fucking wanker!" I suddenly blurted out, "You're all fucking wankers!"

It took him a few seconds to realise that one of the finalists had Tourettes Syndrome and I couldn't stop repeating the lads' catchphrase which was, "Fucking wankers!"

When I've had a drink I love swearing; I find it very liberating and the effect it has on people always tickles me.

"I get it," he snorted, "that's what the blonde kid says; isn't it?" Julia and I looked at each other and giggled. He held his hand out and stroked my arm; sending a shiver through my body, "For a second I thought that you were calling me a wanker."

"Are you a wanker?" I asked; the Vodka numbing my senses.

He narrowed his eyes then he suddenly chuckled, "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays!"

As we carried on joking and laughing Julia asked him if his group where a Stag Party.

"Not really," he laughed as one of his friends brought him another pint; "we all go to the match together and this is a sort of pre-season party."

"Scott," a fellow skinhead said as he handed him the glass, "Mark and Tony want to go to the Sports Café, are you coming?"

We all turned to look at the dozen or so men who were all dressed alike in variants of Lacoste and Stone Island, blue or black short sleeved shirts and polo shirts. Only Scott looked different in his peach polo shirt.

He grinned at his mates then at us; "Give me a knock when you're going and I'll decide then."

Scott was the most self-assured guy I'd ever met. He absolutely oozed charm and confidence but also gave the impression that he had a dark and menacing side too...exactly what turned me on in a man.

When the blonde girl was voted out Scott shook his head.

"Shit...I like her."

"What's special about her?" I slurred. "I like curly blondes and she looks dirty with it." He grinned at me.

"Is that what you look for in a woman?" Julia asked him.

"Not always." He nonchalantly replied.

"So; what do you look for?" She persisted.

"A pulse!" He howled with laughter.

We both laughed out loud at his joke then Jools tittered, "I've got blonde curly hair too."

Scott looked confused as Jools has fairly straight shoulder length dyed blonde hair.

"Not up there!" Julia cackled raising her eyes upwards then quickly in the opposite direction, "Down there silly...AND the collar and cuffs match!"

"But are you dirty as well?" Scott replied as sharp as a tack.

"Sometimes," she raised her eyebrows and pretended to act all coy, "it depends what you mean by dirty."

He pursed his lips and thought for a second; making sure that he wasn't going to upset us. Then looking Jools straight in the eye; "Blow jobs, stockings and sussies, hand jobs, titty fucks, swallowing; doggy style...taking it up the arse."

Jools considered his question then pursed her lips and nodded, "That probably sums me up."

There was a brief silence then Scott asked me, "What about you?"

"Me? WH...what?" I stuttered, still reeling from my friends' confession.

"Are you curly...down there?" He laughed to himself.

"No...Brazilian!" I lied.

He genuinely looked amazed. "Really? I love going down on a bald gash it always tastes nicer."

I beamed and shrugged my shoulders, "No ones ever gone down on mine."

"What? You've never been licked out!" he asked incredulously, "I fucking love licking a woman out." He then closed his eyes and took a long intake of breath through his nose while feigning being in ecstasy.

Jools elbowed me and made a facial expression that told me she didn't believe me either.

"Really," I slurred, "I've never had my...you know what...licked...honest!"

"I've sucked loads of cocks but no one's ever returned the compliment." I continued shaking my head. "I'd fucking love to know what it feels like."

My use of Anglo-Saxon English didn't embarrass him; in fact it seemed to turn him on.

"Well can I volunteer to be your first?" Scott chuckled.

The next five or six minutes carried on like this with our new friend and us talking about sex in very robust terms, it was only when one of his friends tapped him on the shoulder that I realised that he was very subtly seducing us.

"We're going now. What are you doing?"

The super confident guy looked at me with longing in his eyes.

"Have you got a pen," he asked as he tore up a beer mat.

I fumbled in my bag and handed him a pencil.

He scribbled something down and handed it to me.

"That's my mobile number. Call me or text me...I'll lick you out if you want."

I was still staring at it as he was nearly dragged out of the bar making a 'phone me' signal with his hand.

"This calls for more drinks!" Jools giggled, "Doubles!"

It was all we talked about for the rest of the night and the journey back to Darlington on the train. Jools admitted that she did like getting fucked up the bum but her husband wasn't as keen as she was but she loved swallowing his cum. She was quite sympathetic to my 'no real sex' for two years predicament but only suggested loaning me a dildo as a way of relieving my sexual tension. She grinned when I told her that I already had that area covered.

By the time my taxi arrived at my empty house my knickers where soaked through and I drunkenly stripped my clothes off as I stumbled upstairs as I couldn't wait to fuck myself with my own large Dildo. I was still dragging my jeans and knickers off as I fumbled with my bedside cabinet in my haste to find my favourite sex toy.

"YESSSSS!" I gasped as I flicked the switch and it roared into life as I kicked my panties across the bedroom.

I shuffled into my favourite wanking position – on my back, facing away from the headboard with my feet pressed as high up the wall as possible. I stroked my hairy cunt and quickly parted my flaps with one hand as I pressed the stubby end against my soggy opening. I was so fucking wet it sailed in like a torpedo! I gasped when I pressed the switch again and the vibrations shook my whole lower body. In seconds I was imagining Scott's head bobbing up and down between my legs while he licked my cunt as I drunkenly drilled my cunt with 8 inches of throbbing plastic. At one stage my feet were so far up the wall I was resting on my shoulders and my arse was waving in the air meeting every plunge from my plastic cock as I tore at my aching tits with my free hand making me grunt and groan like a 10 bob whore.

After a few minutes my self-abuse became so violent I was actually hurting myself but this just made me do it even harder as I fanaticised about my thuggish lover using me in a million dirty ways. I couldn't wait any longer and began frantically rubbing my clit as I impaled myself on Anne Summers' finest plastic cock.

"AaaaayyyyyAAAAAHHHH!!" I screamed as a fucking fantastic orgasm convulsed my body; leaving me shaking like a leaf; with my dildo still vibrating in my soaking wet cunt.

The next thing I new was when I woke up at 3.30 am freezing cold with a stinking headache and a mouth that tasted like the floor of a budgies' cage, desperately needing to go to the toilet for a pee.

My head, stomach and pussy all ached as I hobbled into the bathroom. It was only when I was sitting pissing like a horse on the toilet that memories of my masturbation frenzy came back to mind and made me feel a little bit better...well, until a couple of paracetamol finally kicked in.

I went back to bed and slept until lunchtime; when I woke up I gave myself a very leisurely fuck with my dildo, concentrating on my tits this time until I had a very satisfying orgasm.

When I arrived home from the Supermarket Julia was waiting for me.

"Well?" She asked, "When are you going to see him?"

"I don't know if I will." I lied as I put the tins into the cupboard. She pestered me for the next 20 minutes until I gave in and said I would send him a text asking if he was serious.

I sat staring at the message on my phone, terrified to press 'send'. 'Were u serious? Alison'

"Here, give it to me!" Jools squawked and grabbed my phone and immediately hit the green button with her thumb.

"Shit!" we said in unison, then stared at the screen. Nothing happened for a few minutes then, BEEP. "SHIT!" We said in unison...again.

"Open it." Jools whispered.

'Yeh. If it really is bald. Defo.'

We sent loads of texts over the next few days and agreed that he would come to my house on Wednesday morning at about 10 o'clock. We even discussed what undies I would wear he insisted on stockings and a black G-string (as it would accentuate my 'gorgeous arse' – his words) and that he would wear his work suit (he was an Insurance man) so my neighbours would think it was a business call. I was to give him the full address at the last moment ...in case I changed my mind.

I was as horny as Hell all day Tuesday; especially when I went into town to buy some new stockings. I didn't realise it would be so difficult. The first few shops that sold nylons only had hold-ups and I wanted proper stockings as I wanted to wear a Basque that I'd bought 3 years ago and had never actually worn 'in action'. Eventually I found a small lingerie shop in a part of town I rarely visited. They had a huge selection and I eventually selected a pair of black Pretty Polly vintage ff seamed nylons with a Cuban heel - £13.50! I nearly shit my pants when I saw the price.

"They're not hold-ups; they need a suspender belt." The immaculately dressed sales woman reminded me.

"I know." I gulped like a naughty schoolgirl caught buying cigarettes.

She smiled knowingly as she rang up the sale and I handed over the cash. It wasn't difficult for her to work out why I wanted 'proper seamed stockings' – was it? You never see anyone actually wearing them in the street; so she must have known I was going to have sex! I'm 37 and blushed at the thought.

I was like a dog on heat for the rest of the day but decided against playing with myself as I wanted to be ravenous the next morning when Scott arrived. I'd drank a whole bottle of wine before I had a bath. I felt incredibly sexy as I lay in the hot bubbles stroking my breasts and tousled pubes. Then as promised, I took a new razor out of the cabinet and nervously stroked it through my wet forest of hair and foam. I couldn't believe how easily my pubes fell away as I made the razor glide all over my pubic area and very carefully between my legs until I was 98% bald and as smooth as a baby's bottom. I left a tiny triangle of short hair just above my slit. After I'd dried myself I rubbed moisturiser all over my 'shaven haven' (as my ex-husband called them) to make it shiny and soft and hopefully avoid razor rash.

Perhaps it was the drink talking; but when I stepped into my bedroom I actually admired myself in the long cheval mirror. I didn't look bad at all for my age; I've got long legs, my tits aren't great (36b) but they don't flop like some of my friends do, I was always quite pretty when I first got married and my soft tummy and chubby cheeks didn't look half as bad if I breathed in and stood up straight! But best of all...my hairless gash looked fucking great! My self-confidence was at its' highest for years...I hoped that it would last over night.

I struggled to get to sleep for thinking about my impending exploits with Scott but finally woke up in a sweat at 6.45. As I lay half asleep pondering Scott's arrival it became very tempting to take a dildo out of my drawer and give myself a little fuck but yet again I didn't. "This had better be bloody worth it!" I thought as I made my way to the bathroom. By 9am I'd had breakfast, put my make-up on, done my hair and vacuumed and dusted in readiness for my visitor. As I sat drinking a cup of coffee contemplating whether to be in my sexy undies when he arrived or wait until he was here my phone lit up and beeped making me jump with fright.

'Good luck & give him one for me. Jools X'

As I was reading it, it beeped again, 'Still ok? Be there in 20 mins. Scott.'

'Yes' I texted back and gave him my address.

I finished my coffee and ran upstairs...I couldn't wait any longer. I'd forgotten how difficult it was putting on the jade green basque but with a few pulls and tugs I managed to get all the clasps fastened then I took the nylons out of the packet – they felt like silk. As I clipped the last suspender to the welt I caught site of my twisted body in the mirror as my tits looked like they were going to tumble out of their cage and grinned. I was going to blow his mind...not just his cock!

As I slid my sexy black G-string up my legs I couldn't resist stroking my bald pussy before easing them into place over the suspender bumps. Then, finally, I put on a pair of shiny black killer high heel shoes. I'd bought them for a wedding last year but they had been uncomfortable to wear all day so they had remained in my wardrobe ever since. I twisted and turned in the mirror and couldn't stop approving of how I looked. Regardless of what happened with Scott I would have to dress like this more often.

BEEP. 'I'm outside. Still ok?'

'Yes.'

I immediately heard him ring the doorbell; but waited a minute as I applied one last coat of red lipstick and threw on my dressing gown before I teetered downstairs in my three inch heels to answer the door.

My heart was pounding as I opened the door and nervously popped my head around to make sure that it was Scott. It was. He licked immaculate in a grey suit and pink shirt.

"Hi." He smiled.

"Hi." I croaked nervously, "come in."

As he squeezed past me his eyes immediately went to my cleavage that was being pushed up by my basque. Scott grinned and nodded approvingly.

Once in the living room there was a horrible awkward moment when neither one of us wanted to be the first to speak.

"Do you want a coffee or something?" I stammered as he placed his briefcase next to my sofa.

"Great...milk, no sugar thanks."

My stomach was tied in knots as I teetered across the room to the kitchen; knowing that he was staring at my stocking covered legs and ample arse which was only just being covered by my robe.

I filled the kettle then opened the wall unit to take the cups out.

"Fucking hell Paula...that's a hell of a fucking view!" Scott gasped as my robe lifted up revealing my stocking tops and arse cheeks.

As I placed the cups on the worktop Scott had already unfastened my robe and pulled it off my shoulders.

"You're fucking beautiful!" he whispered as his hands floated over my breasts and arse like a thousand butterflies making my quiver with pleasure. When he kissed my neck and earlobes I had to grasp the edge of the worktop to stop myself collapsing to the floor.

His fingers and lips slowly made their way down my back until Scott was kneeling behind me pressing his face against my bum cheeks and squeezing my tits through the satin of the basque. Apart from our heavy breathing you could have heard a pin drop.

As he began kissing my arse and stroking my nylons I bent forward and eased my legs apart which seemed to please him. He somehow managed to work his face between my legs and started licking and kissing the tiny gusset of my G-string sending shivers up and down my spine.

"Let's go upstairs," I panted as his tongue slid along the pears that masqueraded as the string on my pants, pressing them against my puckered arsehole.

When he stood up Scott's face was bright red and his eyes looked like they would pop out of his head.

"Okay." He gasped and took his jacket off; hanging it on the back of a chair, "But...you go first."

He hung back, getting the best view in the house as we climbed the stairs to my bedroom my arse only inches away from his face. Once inside the bedroom we locked lips and kissed as if I live's depended on it as I unbuttoned his shirt and trousers. Scott's hands caressed my boobs, arse and between my legs as if he was checking to see if I really did have a Brazilian!

My tits were heaving when he stepped out of his trousers and was left standing in his pants; my hands automatically went to the lump that was sticking out under his hairy belly.

"MMMmmm that feels nice." I purred.

"It does, but this is your little treat...not mine." Scott grinned, "Lie back on the bed".

I stepped backwards and shuffled along the bed leaving my shoes resting on the edge. Scott dropped to his knees again and slowly stroked and kissed my legs from my ankles to my thighs until he was within sniffing distance of my cunt.