WARNING TO READERS - This is a long, rambling, multi-part story and VERY British The individual chapters will make more sense if read in sequence. <.em>
Chapter 2: Alfresco with Sharon
Whatever had happened that night between me and Alice had a profound and lasting effect on my life from that day onwards. For the next few weeks I became mentally and bodily obsessed with sex. Getting laid dominated my thoughts night and day. It became a real struggle at first to concentrate on my work at the garden centre when Debbie and Joanna were around and even harder on the days that I was at college and surrounded by dozens of girls and young women. My sexual awareness was still very elevated and I had taken to masturbating in the shower nearly every night. The fantasies guiding my good right hand, ranged from girls and women that I knew well, to complete strangers who had simply passed me in the street but were attractive, or had a good figure or a tight bum, or perhaps a sexy walk.
The worst times were when I was alone at work with the girls, or an attractive female customer, or even Auntie Maggie. I would find myself discreetly watching their tits, legs, or arses, and fantasising about what they would be like in the sack. My prick seemed to have developed a life of its own, suddenly springing erect at the most inconvenient moments for the most trivial of reasons so that I was forever looking for ways to hide the bulge in my trousers, or dash off to the can to take a piss, which was the most effective way to kill an erection, it felt adolescent and embarrassing. I began to suspect that Maggie had noticed a couple of times and old Jack had passed a few comments about weak bladders.
As days rolled past I became less sure about my theory of possessing some special power to arouse women, but the idea was still there in the back of my mind and I knew that sooner or later I would have to put it to the test.
In the end I knew that I just had to have a shag to relieve the tension. I went looking for Sharon 'The Bike' Cooper; I found her hanging out in the King's Head pub as usual, sitting at the bar with a vodka and lime, and munching crisps. All the boys knew Sharon, and most of us had screwed her a few times; despite being older she had always been into 6th formers and had probably taken the virginity of half the school over the years. I had taken to looking her up every couple of months or so if I was feeling horny.
She must have been about 23 or 24 then, perhaps even older, and for as long as I could remember, had dressed in black leather mini skirts, vivid coloured blouses, black patent, high heeled knee boots , and what looked to be the same, short, fun fur jacket. She was short, only about 5'3" in her high heels. Her make-up was always too bright, and her hair was bleached blonde, waist length, and held up with one of those comb things at the back. She had a generous figure and one of my mates who reckoned that he knew these things told me once that she was a g-cup bra size. She was probably what my mother would have called blowsy, but I had always thought she was quite pretty.
Despite her reputation as a good time girl, Sharon was a clean screw; there had never been any talk of her giving boys the clap, as they said about some girls who were known to have round heels. She was a ladies hairdresser at a shop in town but lived over on the council estate with a father who regularly gave her and her mother a good beating and so Sharon spent most of her time hanging around the pubs in the centre of Salisbury.
I liked Sharon; she had been kind to me when I needed it, after Dad left, a willing and sympathetic listener. She never did anybody any harm and was always willing to provide a quick shag, 'slam...bang.... thank you ma-am', as the Yanks used to say and she never asked for anything in return. Except, that is, for a couple of drinks before sex, a bag of chips after sex, and that you provided the condom.
I think she was just a desperately hurt and lonely woman who found some sort of closeness and comfort in the boys who came to her to satisfy their lust. I cannot ever remember her having a regular boyfriend although she sometimes brought guys to the discos held in the city centre, but always a different one each date.
That evening she didn't have a bloke in tow so we sat in the bar and chatted until it was dark outside. Sharon seemed sad at first that night, a bit depressed, and I began to feel a little guilty about wanting to just use her, but she seemed to settle down to her normal cheerful self after a couple of drinks. We played our usual game of words, she said that she ought to be going, and I suggested I walk her back to the housing estate, past the heath, but we both knew what was going down once we reached the woods at the end of the golf course. It certainly was not the fastest way to where she lived; it was just a game we played to make the sex a little less clinical. I slipped into the Gents and bought a packet of Durex from the machine, and then we left.
