Clarification: All characters in the sex scenes described in this work of fiction are above the legal age of consent in your state or country.
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"You're not fucking going out like that, you slut!" Screamed Bunny's mum as she made her way to the door of their small flat. "You look like a fucking whore!"
"Oh fuck off, Mum!" Bunny screamed back at her mum. "I'll wear what I fucking like!"
"Or not wear! Don't you have any fucking knickers? Or are you gonna show your cunt to every fucker?"
"Fuck off!" Sneered Bunny. "You can't tell me what to fucking do or wear!"
She glanced at her image in the hall mirror, half of which was obscured by piles of old magazines her mum hadn't bothered to chuck out. Her face was heavily mascara'd and her lips were painted a very deep purple, but no amount of make-up could disguise the dark freckles around her nose and forehead. Her light brown hair was pulled off her face and held back by a large clip. Although they couldn't be seen in the mirror, she sported brown, rubber-sole boots laced half-way up her calf. She also wore a black sleeveless tee-shirt with the word '
CUNT
' artistically arranged in the middle of it, but it wasn't that which annoyed her mum. It wasn't her fault if the old cow couldn't keep up with fashion, but Bunny knew that if you didn't flash the gash in this neighbourhood you were fucking nobody, girlfriend! And it wasn't as if she shaved it like some tarts. She kept the hair long enough so you had to get real close to be sure you could see the lips and clit and all. And her inner lips didn't drop out like some fucking inner tube like some sad bitches.
"Don't be back late!" yelled her mum, as Bunny slammed the door behind her and made her way out of the estate, past the graffiti on the walls and discarded needles and rubbers in the gutter, towards the spot by the park where she and her gang would meet for their night out. And there they were, or at least some of them, hanging out by the park bench near the lamp post where they'd carved their gang's initials.
There was Puss, with her shaved gash, fat-thighed Rosanne and skinny, hairy twatted Dilly. The three girls sat around bored and sullen, knickerless, booted and with similar sleeveless tee-shirts. Puss looked up from her desultory stroking of the smooth shaven skin of her crotch and smiled at Bunny as she approached.
"Yo, Bun! Give it up, Girl!"
"Hey, girlfriend. Wassup?" responded Bunny kissing Puss on the cheek.
"Tongues, slut. Giss the tongues. Then I know you love me!"
"Just the tongue?" wondered Bunny, but giving Puss the full-on tongue to tongue that marked the gang's closeness. The warm, liquid, toothy taste of burger. She pulled Puss to her as the two battled their tongues together.
"Hey, tart! Don't you love me, too?" asked Dilly, pushing her face into the melee. "Giss tongue!"
And there the three were, watched by Rosanne who liked a bit of tongue but not so much as the others, as they took tongue to cheek to tooth, and rubbed each others' backs as they did so, hands under each others' tee-shirts, until, a few minutes later, their tongues sore from the probing, they pushed each other off and sank back onto the park bench.
"So, how's it, Bun?" asked Rosanne, puffing on her joint. "Good day at school? Fucked any good boys?"
"Wouldn't you fucking like to know, Ro?" Bunny replied. "My cunt's so fucking sore and so fucking dripping you couldn't tell it apart from fucking brillo."
"Yeh. Right!" Rosanne agreed, not pursuing the subject further.
The four girls squeezed together on the bench staring out across the park as the shadows grew longer over the grass, the odd glint reflecting from the discarded condoms and broken glass. It was gonna be a normal night out tonight, Bunny could see. Her and her gang, and maybe the other girls, Snoot and Lizzie, out in the park with a few beers, a few boys and a few laughs. But just now there was nothing much to do. No drugs, 'cept the blow that Dilly passed round, and no sex, 'cept the tongues that didn't really count. Fuck it! If it weren't in the twat, it weren't nothing.
"Hey, Bun! Girlfriend! It's lager time," Dilly asserted. "We want some amber in the long tubes. And sweetheart. Hey. Don't you know it? It's your turn!"
"Oh fuck it! I'm sure it was last time."
"Don't fucking lie, you cunt!" disagreed Puss, pushing her pale face into Bunny's. "It's your turn, and you fucking know it. It was me last time. And I still can taste Mo's fucking sperm in my mouth!"
Bunny concurred reluctantly and just as reluctantly made her way to Mo Patel's Liquor Store, a run-down establishment not too far from the park. She hung around outside, puffing a ciggie while Mo served a customer, examining her skinny reflection in the window. Finally, and not before fucking time, the old man Mo had been serving shuffled out, and before the door slammed shut, Bunny burst in, discreetly turning round the card reading 'Open', so that it now read 'Closed'.