Confessions of a Dirty Dj

To all Literotica readers, all events in this story are purely a work of fiction inspired by my own fertile imagination. All characters featured in this story are over 18 years old.

Please vote and feel free to comment.

Lots of thanks to Lihle Nikosi for all her help in the editing and rewriting process from my earlier drafts.

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The first time it happened it was almost as an after thought. I'm not the type of person who would normally dream of taking advantage of a drunk unconscious woman. My parents had raised me to be very respectful of others.

I'm far from being the proverbial "nice guy" (I have my good and bad points just like everyone else), but I was definitely the kind of guy who would go get a glass of water to help sober up the drunk 30-something milf who was no longer used to drinking loads and had gone a little overboard with the shots during a girls night out. However, sometimes rational thought totally leaves you as the thrill of doing something deliciously depraved takes over. And once it happens a first time, you find yourself hooked.

Before I go any further, let me tell you a little about myself. I am about 5' 11 and in my late 30s. I look after myself with a good diet and regular trips to the gym, as well as cycling to work. So, despite my age, I have the body of a far younger man; pecs and washboard abs. Think 100m sprinter rather than bodybuilder and you'll have some idea of what I look like.

I'm far from ugly, but not movie-star gorgeous. Ruggedly handsome is how one of my female friends described me. Like so many others, I was awkward and geeky as a teenager, but blossomed at university, channeling that awkwardness into a charming personality that was very effective especially when I flashed my cheeky smile. This, combined with the good West Indian genes I inherited from my parents and an energetic "lust for life" attitude means people often mistakenly believe that I'm 25 or 26. This comes in very handy for the hobby I have outside of my day job - I'm a DJ at the weekend.

I love being a DJ; I truly love music and always have a good time behind the decks, blending song after song to control and lift the mood of the crowd. There are few greater feelings in this world than hearing the crowd cheer over the volume of the music in club as they appreciate the mix or a new song blasting through the speakers.

There are other perks too; free drinks is a definite plus, especially with the price the clubs charge. And there is a certain prestige associated with being a DJ; some guys want to be you as they are envious of the jet setting DJ lifestyle they think I lead, while some guys just appreciate the skill and technical ability on show. And the female of the species? Well a lot of the time they flirt with me. A LOT!

Apart from the festive period, there are several times of the year that I love as you can always guarantee loads of women will be out. One of these times of the year is Freshers's Fortnight, the name given to the first two weeks of the University term in the UK.

It is that wondrous time of the year where thousands of people nationwide are experiencing the thrill of living away from mum and dad; no curfew, no rules and now they had turned 18, total freedom to go out, binge drink and have lots of one night stands in their rooms on campus (or taken up a dark alley, but that's a story for another time).

The term "Fuck-a-Fresher" was always very popular at this time of year for good reason.

I remember experiencing the thrill and same sense of freedom when I was their age and envy them slightly, for the years of fun and parties they have in front of them. That being said though, I wouldn't change anything in my life for a minute.

It was a typical Friday night at Mockingbird nightclub, the preferred club of choice for the two university campuses nearby. I was behind the decks as usual, spinning my tunes on the raised stage. Unlike a lot of modern DJs who use laptops, I'm still very old skool as a lot of my set is done on CDs and vinyl.

The location of the DJ booth gave me the perfect view of the entire dance-floor and I can see lots of new faces in the crowd. I smiled to myself and thanked heaven once again for female freshers, with their skimpy outfits and tight bodies; tall ones, short ones, slim ones, curvy ones, shy ones, awkward ones, happy ones and most importantly, drunk ones.

I had been the regular Friday night DJ at Mockingbird for the past 5 years. In that time I had developed a sixth sense as to what music works best with the crowd. It had got to the point where it was becoming slightly tedious and mundane. As I said before, I love DJing, but it's only a hobby, something to pass the time at the weekends. I don't do it for the money. I know I could quit at any time and if it wasn't for the free drinks and (minor) celebrity status I enjoyed as the resident DJ, I probably would have. Anyway, I digress.

As I select another song to put on the decks, I check the time on my iPhone. 1.27am. Phew! Only 30 mins to go. Tonight had dragged for some reason. The crowd had been enthusiastic as always. I had been given the eye a lot throughout the night but for whatever reason, my heart wasn't really in it. And even if I had been in the mood, this brings up one of the most frustrating things about being a DJ.

Unless someone was extremely forward (and/or slutty) I always had to wait until the end of the night before I could lay on the charm and chat someone up. It had taken me a while to get used to the dichotomy of being a DJ who would get loads of attention but not be able to do anything about it. Unless I wanted to abandon my post, I would have to wait until near the end of my set. It was no biggie, though. There's always at least a handful of hotties hanging around at the end night.

On this occasion there had been one saving grace during my set. Throughout the night I had sporadically seen a stunning creature on the dance-floor; she was medium height, about 5' 6, strawberry blonde hair in curly ringlets that touched her shoulders and covered her face while she danced with beautiful smooth pale skin. But it was what she was wearing (or almost wearing) that had caught my attention most.

She had on a slightly loose, quite small white singlet that easily showed off the black bra underneath. A big anime cat's face adorned the front reminding me of the year I spent teaching in Japan. Faded blue denim shorts and sandals completed the outfit. Not the typical September clubbing outfit you would expect, but I was hardly complaining.

It was clear that she was enjoying herself and was steadily getting drunker as the night progressed. Every time I spotted her on the dance-floor she had a cocktail in her hand, sipping deeply through a straw, swinging her slim hips in time to the music. I found it amusing watching her brush off every clumsy attempt made by the boys desperate to get her attention; she was definitely only interested in dancing and drinking. There had been the occasional glance in my direction, which I always made sure was greeted with my biggest, cheekiest smile. She always giggled at this, before turning away and getting lost in the music once more.

That was earlier.

As I began to slow the tempo of the music into some 90s RnB slow jams, I scanned the dance floor for any sign of lil miss Curly. Gone. Nowhere to be seen.

"Ah well," I thought, "Not my night I suppose."

But I couldn't have been more wrong. Just as I turned back to my record bag I saw her. She was leaning precariously on the edge of one of the stools dotted around the walls near the stage area, looking a little worse for wear. Her head kept bobbing forward and then jerking back as if she was trying to stop herself from falling asleep.

The last 20 mins of the night is when I usually don't have to worry about perfect mixing of the songs. Anyone left in the club is usually drunk. Or copping off with someone. Or trying to cop off with someone. Or trying to convince the bar staff that they are sober enough to be served another drink! So this was my window of opportunity to shine.

After years of spinning in clubs, I had perfected the art of the 10 minute chat-up, using the limited time available to charm my way into a bed for the night. It didn't matter if it was hers or mine. Granted, it didn't always work, but on balance of things, I usually had more successes than failures.

Anyway, back to Curly. Whenever she had been on the dance-floor there was always another girl with her; she was dressed all in black with green and purple stripes knee length socks reminding me a little of Abby, the goth scientist in NCIS. However, she was nowhere to be seen right now. I assumed that she was either in the bathroom or getting Curly some water.

I glanced at the bar and couldn't see her. Bathroom then. Or maybe outside having a smoke. Given the state of Curly, I'm fairly sure she wouldn't have just left her here. Whatever, this was my chance and I decided to take it. Carpe Diem!

Making sure the next song was already cued up, I jumped off the stage and walked over to Curly. Up close things looked even more promising than earlier. I still couldn't quite she her face properly as her curls were in the way, but I liked the look of her legs; toned, shapely and very smooth, albeit a bit pale. But I like pale. I had always enjoyed the contrast of pale skin against my chocolate coloured skin.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

The sound of my voice took her by surprise and she jumped. Looking up at me through the curtain of ringlets surrounding her face it was clear she was trying to focus on my face to see who I was.

"Mmm-hmm" she replied, trying to take another sip from the clearly empty glass in her hand and clearing the curls away from her face. I took a moment to take her in; blue eyes, nice cheek bones, beautiful bee stung pouty lips and the most adorable freckled nose. She looked like a drunk version of Elizabeth Banks. Score!

"Did you have a good night?" I enquired, this being my standard ice-breaker opening line.

"Y-yyes. Mmm-hmm." This girl was really gone. She was still swaying slightly against the stool struggling to keep herself upright.

Before I could say anything more though, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Chris, the manager of the club.

"Just wanted to let you know that we're going to close early, after this song as it's so quiet."

"Ok" I replied simply.

"Have fun" he indicated towards Curly as he turned away.

Smiling, I turned back to Curly and saw her looking at me. I could see the effort she was having trying to focus on seeing one of me.

"Wheere'z Suuuuzieee?" she slurred. Suzy. That must be the girl in the black I saw her with earlier.

"Ah, I don't know" I said. And then, from somewhere deep inside me I blurted out "I think she left. But she asked me to look after you and make sure you got home safe."

Where had that come from? A total bold faced lie. For all I knew, this Suzy was in the queue for the cloakroom. However, at this moment, that didn't matter. There was something dark and carnal stirring inside me and a thought bubbled to the surface - "I'm have to fuck this curly haired sexpot tonight."

The thought hung their in the air and percolated a while as I tried to formulate a plan. Would I be able to get her back to mine? Would I actually be able to fuck her? What would happen in the morning? Part of me was happy to see that my conscience and decency hadn't completely abandoned me, but that all went up in a puff of smoke when Curly smiled at me and raised her arms in a 'give me a hug gesture'.

"Ok" I thought as I moved in towards her. Her arms wrapped drunkenly around my neck and pulled me a bit forcefully towards her, squashing her pert breasts into my chest. I could smell the cocktails on her breath as she began rubbing her head against my neck and then on my chest, sighing with contentment. She felt good in my arms. I took a moment to savour the feeling of her body held close against mine. I rubbed my hands over her back causing her to sigh again and rub her head harder on my chest.

That settled it. She was definitely coming back to my place. However I needed to pack away my DJ stuff. Dammit! Fortunately the main lights had come up and the door team were on the dance-floor herding stragglers out the door. One of them came over to where we were, smiling and shaking his head. He was a big guy in his 50s with grey hair and tattoos up and down both arms. As an experienced doorman this was not the first time he had seen customers in this state at the end of a club night.

"Looks like you've a handful there mate," he said in his typically friendly Cockney accent.

"Indeed I have," I agreed. "Look, Chris, can you hang here for a minute and look after her while I pack up my stuff. It'll only take me 5 mins."

"No worries, mate," came the reply.

Slowly extracting myself from Curly's grasp, with some moaning protestations from her, I walked back towards the stage, quickly adjusting my jeans to hide as best I could the massive boner now sticking out proudly in front of me. It's at times like this I'm glad I go commando as I'm sure the throbbing rod currently in my jeans would have been massively uncomfortable if further restrained by boxer shorts.

Packing up my stuff in double quick time I pondered on what I was planning to do. Could I actually get in trouble for this? Would she even remember that we did it?

Despite these thoughts my heart was racing; clearly the idea of having my way sexually with this girl excited me. I suppose I would just have to be careful about how I went about it, in case I needed a get out of jail free clause later.

With everything packed away securely I jumped off the stage and Chris helped me escort Curly outside as we waited for a taxi. I was surprised at how light she was in my arms as I took this opportunity to look her over again. With my hand around her waist and her arm slumped around my shoulder I was in the perfect position to see down her top.

From what I could tell the black bra was satin and contained some average sized perky looking tits. I was wondering if she had pink nipples and whether I could get away with having a quick peek when the taxi pulled up.

"DAMN" I thought, but quickly quelled my disappointment as I knew I wouldn't have long to wait. I awkwardly put her in the back of the taxi behind the driver and while trying to act nonchalant and relaxed walked round and got in the other side next to her.

After giving the driver my address I settled back taking stock of my situation. This girl next to me was barely conscious, as evidenced by the slack way her head was rolling around caused by the motion of the taxi. Looking at the curly hair now almost covering her face I became aware once more of just how hard I was. Looking down I could actually see the outline of my cock pulsating.

"Jesus," I thought, "I actually am a complete and utter pervert." Continuing the conversation in my own head, I carried on chastising myself.

"Look at you. Hard and horny at the opportunity to take advantage of some innocent drunk first year."

Was I really going to do this? What little morality I had left was evaporating fast and disappeared completely (would it ever return?) when she drunkenly moaned and then sidled up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I looked down at her pale legs and noticed they were spread ever so slightly. I wonder...

Checking that the taxi driver was concentrating on driving, I gently rested my hand on her thigh. No reaction. The denim shorts had shifted slightly and had left a little opening on her above her thigh. I looked aimlessly out the window watching late-night London pass by while my hand slowly tried negotiating through the gap to the heavenly place that lay beneath. Unfortunately, we started going over speed bumps down some back streets, which was an indicator to me that we had almost reached my place.

Cursing my luck again, but knowing heaven was waiting for me I paid the driver as we pulled up outside of my place. I began to wonder how on earth I was going to open my door with this dead weight next to me, let alone get her up the stairs. As the engine gunned, I looked back and caught a look from the taxi driver, one of disgust mixed with jealousy. And then he was gone and we were alone.

-

After some struggle up the stairs, during which she regained consciousness briefly, we finally reached my bedroom. I had butterflies in stomach as I gently laid her on my bed. I used my foot to close my door, but in my eagerness to get the violation started I kicked it too hard and it slammed loudly.

"Fuck" I winced. It took a split second for me to remember my two housemates always went away at the weekend and we were alone in the house. Looking over to the bed I noticed that the loud noise had had no effect on my "guest", she had passed out and was sound asleep.

Again, I was acutely aware of how fast my heart was beating. My mouth felt a little dry as I looked at the unconscious girl on my bed. I turned her over onto her back and cleared her hair away from her face. In the subdued lighting from my bedside lamp I noted how very little make-up she had on. This made her look all the more pure and innocent.

"Well then," I thought to myself "It's now or never."

I lay next to her and ran on hand over her stomach, moving up towards her breasts, but then stopped when I had an idea. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right!

After hunting around a little, I found my digital camcorder and the charger. I quickly put in a new memory card and set it up on the chest of drawers in the corner of my room. Checking the zoom and focus were ok, I angled it towards the bed making sure it would perfectly capture all the action.

Moving back towards the bed I wanted to make sure that Curly was definitely asleep. Straddling her, with my legs either side of her body I grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her while bouncing up and down on the bed. 30 seconds and no reaction!

"Excellent."

Checking the focus on the camera one more time, I hit record and went back to the bed. I removed her sandals, noting the black nail polish on her toes. Bending my head I kissed her calf, noting how soft it felt. I slowly began kissing my way up her smooth legs, taking my time until I reached her shorts.

My excitement was growing as I quickly unbuttoned them, grabbing them at the hem and forcefully pulled them down and off. Unceremoniously I threw them on the floor taking in the image before me. She had on a pair of red french knickers, the front of which displayed the most delicate looking camel-toe.

I spread her legs slightly and scrabbled to get the iPhone out of my jeans. Switching on the camera I took some close-up pictures before leaning forward to smell her. Even though she was unconscious, a part of her must have been aware what was happening as the familiar pungent aroma of female musk hit my nostrils. And it smelled good!

Walking round to the other side of the bed I grabbed the bottom of her manga top and pulled it up over her head. It came off quite easily and her arms stayed raised above her head. I took a moment to enjoy watching her breasts rise and fall in time as she softly breathed before taking out my phone again and taking a few more pictures. I noticed she had a small scar on her stomach just above her belly button, but decided not to dwell on such things right now.

"Now for the bra" I thought.

At this point, if she had woken up, I could make out that she had taken off her top and shorts in a drunken stupor and look like an innocent man. However, I knew once the bra came off though, I would have crossed a line and entered a forbidden zone, one far beyond the point of no return. But seeing her delicate semi-naked unconscious body on my bed stirred that dark carnal urge from deep inside me once again.