I'm a schoolteacher in an Inner-city Hellhole and my friends call me Julie the Schooly.
It had been a pretty shitty week teaching 7 and 8 year olds who had already given up on the learning process; so had been looking forward to getting 'fall down drunk' on Friday night since second period on Wednesday morning. The plan had worked and I could hardly stand up as I staggered to the taxi rank near the railway station at midnight.
"Shit!" I grumbled when I saw the length of the queue. There must have been 50 people there and even in my alcohol fuelled state I knew that meant at least a 30 minute wait at this time of night.
"Hey;" I tugged at Sara's arm, "do you see those two lads in the cardigans?"
"Where?" She squinted at the queue as she wasn't wearing her glasses.
"Near the front." I slurred, "The fat one's wearing glasses."
"Oh!" She gulped in a mouthful of air, "Why?"
"I know them. They live in my flat." I stated with great aplomb.
"They live in your flat?" Jilly giggled as she pushed me so hard I wobbled on my platform shoes.
"No, silly." I corrected her, "not MY flat but the one on the first floor...you know...the fat girl with pink hair."
By now we were about 6 feet away from the two nervous looking Emo kids as a taxi pulled into the rank and they were next in the queue.
"Hey gorgeous!" Gilly shouted and waved her cigarette at the boy in glasses, "My friend lives next to you; can she share your taxi? She'll give you a wank if you say yes!"
If I'd even been halfway sober I'd have been mortified at her offer but I wasn't; so just giggled and pushed her backwards making her nearly fall off her high heels.
The slimmer and smaller of the two shrugged his shoulders and beckoned me towards the car.
I drunkenly grinned and theatrically held my arms out in apology to the rest of the queue before I crawled into the back of the black cab probably flashing my red polka dot thong down the back of my jeans to the young lads. As it pulled away I waved with both hands and blew kisses to my friends who had booked a mini-cab to take them to the other side of town and back to their husbands.
"I'm Woody." The tall chubby one introduced himself with a silly wave.
"I'm Sash." The other said with a grin
"I'm Julie." I grunted as I wrestled with a seat belt that was obviously broken and a danger to the public.
"Do you want me to do that for you?" Woody asked and leaned forward 'accidentally' brushing his mop of dyed black hair then the back of his hand against my boob. Click-click and the belt was in position.
I took a gulp of stale air, gave him the thumbs up signal and tried to focus my eyes. Woody was nearly 6 feet tall but quite chubby with his belly hanging over his tight black jeans. He had an unruly mop of black hair with a fringe that hid his eyes. He was wearing thick black plastic framed glasses.
Sash was much shorter and skinny. He had bright orange hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in months. His face was covered in freckles and he had a metal ring in his nose and two steel pegs in an eyebrow. They were both wearing cardigans – one light blue the other red, and check shirts like all of the Emo kids that hang around the City Centre on Saturdays.
We sat in an embarrassed silence all the way back to the Estate that we lived in as the taxi driver practiced for the Monaco Grand Prix. When he stopped opposite our flats I fumbled in my purse for £5 to pay towards the fare.
"We're going for a pizza," Sash mentioned as casually as possible, "do you want some?"
My stomach was still reeling from the crazy taxi ride but I still looked at my watch and shrugged my shoulders.
"Yes; that's a good idea." I lied. Anything would have been better than going back to my empty flat; and sharing a pizza with two pasty faced lads was slightly better than 'anything'.
"We've got beer and vodka." The red haired lad broke the silence as we waited for his friend to be served.
"Great." I replied. The smell of the food was now making me hungry and I was regretting not ordering one for myself.
There was very little conversation as we tramped across the concrete parking lot in front of the flats but I gathered that they'd been to see a band and they were flat-sitting for Woody's sister while she was in Australia.
I was pleasantly surprised at how neat and tidy the flat was but slowly realised that it was actually a girls flat and not actually two Emo kids.
Woody poured me a huge glass of vodka and coke and I settled onto the white leather sofa to eat a slice of pizza. The conversation wasn't over stimulating but they told me that they both worked at a Supermarket and I told them about my boring job in the city centre school and I remember laughing at our different music and film tastes. As we relaxed I realised that the lads were constantly moving around for a secret look down my scoop neck t-shirt or down the back of my jeans when they crossed the room to change cd's or go to the bathroom.
Obviously two 20 year old Emo kids weren't ever going to be high on my list of prospective lovers but as I'd not had a taste of cock since I dumped my bastard of a boyfriend four months previously; I was enjoying the tease.
By 1.30 I felt my eyes getting very heavy and I fought to stay awake but apparently failed. The next thing I knew was when I woke with a throbbing head and a mouth like the floor of a budgies cage. Someone had draped a quilt over me which I folded and left on the sofa then stumbled across the dark room. The walk up 5 flights of stairs to my own flat wasn't easy as I was still drunk but also hungover. As I slowly made my way up the last flight I adjusted my bra strap which was hanging down my arm and tried in vain to fasten the top button of my jeans which I must have left open after a visit to the toilet.
I woke on Saturday at 11ish, put the kettle on for a cup of strong coffee and took two extra strong paracetamol. I made my way into the bathroom and flopped onto the toilet. All of the previous nights alcohol whooshed straight through my like a brewery horse, then I let off a fart so loud you could have heard it two streets away. But it made me feel better and a damn site less bloated. As I gained my senses I had a good scratch of my pubes (as you do on a morning) only to find some of them were matted together plus there was a dry patch of skin on my boobs.
Neither thing concerned me at the time as they both disappeared when I had a shower; but they nagged at the back of my mind until later in the day when I was having a drink with my sister in town at about 8. The dirty buggers must have pulled my clothes down and wanked on me! That's exactly what the smell on my boobs had been – dry spunk! The cheeky little sods.
I was annoyed for the rest of the night and part of Sunday but as the evening wore on and I drank most of a bottle of nice red wine as I watched TV the thought of two young guys stripping me and fondling my private parts while I was fast asleep began to turn me on. I know it shouldn't...but it did. When I went to bed I put some Soul music on and began stroking my body in the way I imagined they had....stroking and squeezing my 34c boobs until they hurt; then running a hand through my hairy pubes and imagining the look of awe on their cute faces as they fingered a 32 year old woman and tugged at her long curly pubic hair. Then I imagined my tits hanging out and jeans around my knees they stood over me the previous night and wanking their cocks until spunk splashed all over me.
I'd already had two small orgasms by that time but plunged three fingers inside as I slapped my clitty so hard it nearly made me cry; but the orgasm took my breath away. I felt dirty.
As the week progressed I saw Woody a couple of times in the distance; but never close enough to actually speak to him. I have no idea what I would have said if I had bumped into him. My masturbation and fantasies got wilder and hornier as the week progressed. By Wednesday night I was fucking myself every night with my 'Big Black Bully Boy' 9 inch dildo while I sucked a lifelike 7 inch pink dildo dreaming that it was Woody and Sash.
As usual on Thursday, I spent a lot of my day at work arranging the plans for Friday night by text to my friends. The more texts I sent the more I thought about the previous Friday night and began secretly hoping I'd meet the boys at the taxi rank again.
I was as horny as a scrapyard cat by 9 o'clock and 'had to do something about the mad itch between my legs'! I hunted through a box that my boyfriend had left and eventually found some porno DVD's that he'd been keen on watching; grabbed a handful of sex-toys; emptied the remains of a bottle of wine into a glass; stripped down to my bra and pants and pressed 'play' on the recorder as I lay on the sofa in my living room.
Gavin had been my kinkiest lover and this film was just what I needed – a young woman was dressed as a Maid with a short black dress and seamed stockings and was serving drinks to a load of posh men in a country house. It didn't take long for them to start touching her and eventually taking her dress off and making her suck all of their cocks. By that stage I'd already had three orgasms.
After half an hour she was straddling one man; sucking another and a third was fucking her bum. I couldn't resist copying her and shoved my 'bully boy' deep in my quim, chewed on the 7 incher and rammed my 7 inch jelly vibe up my own bum at the same time. The orgasms were hitting me one after the other. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this horny. My legs were shaking when I eventually switched the recorder off and went to bed.
I couldn't get home from quick enough on Friday evening! I quickly made some beans on toast which I ate as I ironed a short, flared denim skirt that Gavin called my 'slutty skirt' and a cotton t-shirt that had ribbons on the front and back and was intended to look like a Basque.
My shower was long and luxurious and it took a lot of will power not to finger myself as I lathered and washed between my legs while the hot water and soap ran down my body. I decided not to trim or shave my pubes as it was fun actually having hair down there for the first time in a lot of years.
I put my make-up on with especially bright red lipstick and dark eye liner to highlight my twinkling blue eyes. Underwear was no problem as I'd already decided on my tarty fluorescent pink Wonderbra the previous night and a sexy black transparent g-string that had a pink bow on the back.
I spent 10 minutes deciding what footwear to choose – finally settling on my black patent shoes with big buckles at the ankles and killer heels. They always looked 'punky' to me but Gavin liked to imagine that they were 'Bondage shoes'.
I was a little disappointed that none of my friends commented on my outfit; but they were all dressed similarly themselves – even the married ones!
The night went well as I flirted with a few guys including a couple from a Glaswegian stag party who bought me a cocktail and offered to oblige when I asked for a 'Sloe Comfortable Screw up Against the Wall'. If they hadn't all been pissed beyond belief I was tempted to take up the offer.
I was in a great mood and had a fun night; I'd deliberately not got too drunk – 'just in case'. I was disappointed that there was no sign of the two Emo kids when we got to the taxi rank. I said 'goodnight' to my friends and waited, alone, in the queue.
As the taxi entered the Estate I spotted both lads shuffling nervously in front of the Pizza Parlour. I asked the driver to pull up right in front of them. Excited at seeing them and feeling decidedly mischievous I paid the fare then pretended to very drunk again and stumbled out of the cab.
"Hey!" I giggled and called out as I teetered on my high heels, "can you help me – I'm pissed again!" Their little faces lit up.
