0 comments/ 37028 views/ 1 favorites Shop Soiled By: jamespatrick2001 I'm telling you mate, no word of a lie. No fucking word of a lie. She was the dirtiest little cunt I've ever met in me life. Get us a beer and I'll fill you in. Ta. Ah, sweet! Right. Anyway. What a fucking whore! This is what happened. Last Tuesday morning, no, Monday it was, she walks in the shop. Posh looking bird, she was. About 40, I reckon, but fit as fuck, like. I thought, here you go, she's wandered in the wrong doorway. Probably after the hairdresser's. She wouldn't be the first to make that mistake. I mean, what the fuck Gaz was doing opening a fucking porn shop next to 'Hair By Fucking Christopher' in the first place…well, fuck knows. Anyway. Warm day, but this ain't Ibiza, is it? She got a skirt on halfway up her arse and the top! It was, dunno, pink or orange or something, but it was fucking tiny and her tits were fucking huge. Honest. Massive. Her nips were sticking out. I'm thinking, what's going on here? "Looking for the hairdresser's, love?" I says, smiled at her coz, like I say, she was well tasty. She looks all embarrassed, like and says, dead quiet and posh, like: "Er, no, this is the…well the sex shop, isn't it?" I'm thinking, it's packed with fucking dildos, love; it ain't Interflora, is it? I reckon it's some bitch from the Council come to give me some more shit. But no, when I ask what can I do for her she asks me about the job. Straight up, this posh bird is after the part-time job at our place. I think, fuck me, what have we got here? So, I walks round to the front. Meanwhile she's sort of tripped across the floor on her high heels and is stood a couple of feet away. I squeeze between her and the counter, lean back, nonchalant, like and says: "You do know what sort of a shop this is love? You know what sort of thing we sell in here?" I wave me arms about a bit and she looks around the place. Then she looks straight up into my eyes, and says, in this dirty low voice: "Oh yes, I know exactly what you sell." She got this look in her eye, like she wanted me to get me cock out and shove it down her throat. I tell you, it was the way she says 'exactly' what done my head in. I'm thinking, is this some kind of piss-take? Some fucking porn channel version of that 'Game for a Whatsit', or something? Then, and she knows I can see her doing it, she parts her legs a little and arches her cunt hole towards me. She fucking reeks of cunt juice! Fucking stinks! I'm well hard now, of course. But I'm still thinking maybe there's some big fucker waiting out back to do me with a baseball bat or something. I mean, I look after meself, work out and that, but, you know, who knows. Anyway, I just wanna shove me hand right up her there and then. But fuck it, I dunno. It could be some kinda set up. Or maybe, just maybe, I was reading too much into it. You know, hanging around porn all day can do that to you. So, I ask if she'd be bothered by some of the language that she'd hear, being as she was obviously a posh bird. She says: "What language? Exactly what language?" Exactly, eh? So I takes a deep breath and tell her, punters saying 'cock' and 'cunt' in front of her. She just smiles and says: "Oh no, I think I'd love that." "You sure? I mean, some bloke saying he wants something to stick up his bird's arse while he's fucking her up the cunt would upset a lot of birds." She repeats it: "Hhmmm , some bloke saying he wants something to stick up his bird's arse while he's fucking her up the cunt?" She says it in a really gravelly voice, then laughs and says: "To be perfectly honest, I think the only effect that kind of talk would have would be to make my cunt very wet indeed." Fucking hell! Fucking hell! I've got Lady Muck with the horn here! I tell you, there could've been a gang of twelve-foot skinheads outside waiting to beat the shit if I so much as laid a fucking finger on 'er. I'm thinking: So what? I'd die fucking happy anyway! I mean, what a dirty cunt! I think, right, this little whore is working here. And, no matter what, I'm gonna fuck her rigid. Empty me balls in every fucking hole. I mean, think about it, mate, the only other applicant was a spotty little twat. Looked about twelve and would've wanked all over the stock. Fuck that. I'd tell Gaz what the crack was. You never know, maybe he'd get some as well. Still, we weren't out of the woods yet. What kind of dosh would she be after? I mean she didn't look the sort who would be used to working for the minimum wage. Didn't look like the sort of bird who worked, full stop. "Do you want to know about wages and that?" I says. She nodded. I told her. Sure enough, her face dropped. I thought, okay, that's that fucked then. But then she says: "What about perks; are there any perks?" I says, yeah, perks. No problem. I'm wondering what she means by perks: cash, stock, cock, what? I figure she can have what the fuck she wants if I get to empty me bollocks up her. She never says no more about perks then, just says: "Okay, I'm definitely interested." Result! Thing is, a bit of a fly in the old KY. She's says she's never done no shop work before. Okay, so you don't have to be Mohamed Al Whatsit, but I'm thinking Gaz mightn't be up for it. She must have seen I had something on my mind, because she says, all coy and that: "If you like, I could work here for nothing…just for a day, perhaps. You could see how I got on and then…well, you could see how I got on afterwards." After what, I'm thinking? Hold on, she's offering to work here for fuck all; she has to be after it! Fuck it, says I to meself, always look a gift whore in the cunt. "All right," I say. "Let's go for it. I'll have to square it with the boss if we take you on, like, but working a day free would be down to me, I reckon. So, what day d'you fancy?" "Tomorrow?" Fuck me, she's keen! Her cunt really stinks now, I want to say something, but I still ain't sure. Maybe it's just some kind of dare and if I touch her she'd leg it screaming from the shop. That'd be me banged up again. Honest, Dave, I never knew that stuff was nicked before. Innocent party I was in all that mularkey. "Tomorrow it is then," I say. "Get here about a quarter to ten. We open at ten. Fair enough?" She nodded, smiled and turned to go. Nice arse, very nice arse, actually. Definitely want to sink me teeth in that. Then, by the door she turns and says out of nowhere: "Did you know this used to be a laundrette?" I shook me head, thinking, 'so the fuck what?' "Really?" "Mmmm," she says. "Sometimes I used to come in here late at night with my Master and suck his cock. We didn't give a flying fuck who saw us, you know." She laughed. "We'd probably have let anyone join in if they'd wanted! "Do you know, He looks a bit like you. I love short hair and an earring - just the same as him. Mind you, he has a pierced cock as well. I simply adore body piercing, don't you?" I'm nodding like a right fucking ejiit. Fuck knows if I do or not. I mean, it took me two fucking years to get the missus to get her belly button pierced. By the time I persuaded her to get her twat done, me knob probably would have fell off. "Oh, yeah. Course I do. Course love, whatever you say. So then, I'll see you tomorrow." She laughs that low filthy laugh again and says: "I'm sure you'll see a lot of me tomorrow!" Then she was gone; fuck all left, except the stink of her cunt mixed with some posh scent. Anyway. First thing I did was give Gaz a bell. Tell him, I got this piece of cunt coming in to work, gratis like, the next day and she is fucking gagging for it. I reckon she'd do any fucker that could manage a hard-on. He says, what's she look like? Sweet, mate, says I. Blonde hair, brown eyes, good legs, nice arse and fucking huge tits. What's her name, then? He asks. Her name? Her fucking name? Fuck knows! Only thing I cared about was getting up her cunt. Tell you what, Dave, I was fucking well pissed that I never give her one there and then. Thinking about it, she was laid on a plate. Anyway, Gaz's laughing his bollocks off. Reckon she'd do us both at the same time, Stu? I'd fucking bet on it, says I. I'm telling you mate, she fucking reeked of cunt. It wouldn't surprise me if she'd just been fucked outside the shop. Stank that way, anyway, the dirty little whore. He says. "Right, I'm definitely having a bit of that. I'll be down after lunch. You leave some for me and I don't want no sloppy seconds." Gaz, I says, all serious, like, anyone who get up her will be getting fucking sloppy fifteenths. A filthy little cunt this one is. Oh yeah, I say, another thing. She was on about her Master. She'll be one of those cunts what do whatever they're told to do by their bloke. Well, says Gaz, let's hope he's got big plans for her. Then he laughs. "Here you are," he says then. "Here's an idea. We could have her as a free gift with every purchase. That'd bring the punters in sniffing around. 'Free Cunt With Every Purchase. Today Only'. Then he rings off. I'm thinking, may be, but they can get in the fucking queue. I'm first! I tell you, mate, I could not fucking wait for the next day. Get the beers in and I'll tell you. To be continued... Shop Soiled Ch. 2 Ta, mate. I'll get the next one in. Anyway, where was I? Right. Next morning I'm at the shop early. Funnily enough, the missus woke up and wanted a bit. I'd fucked the arse off her when I got in and she was well horny again. She jumped on top and started riding the fuck out of me. Thing was, I'd already decided that the bird in the shop was where I was going to empty my bollocks first off, so I had to push her off sharpish and say I had to be in work early. Legged it without even having a shower, stinking of the wife's cunt and me own spunk. Anyway, I figured the little slut was probably used to that. The one in the shop, that is, Dave, not the missus. No-one could ever call the missus a slut. More's the bleedin' pity. Anyway, she turned up bang on time. I tell you, mate, she was dressed like she was ready for a night whoring herself out. She had a skirt on…I'm telling ya, it barely covered her cunt. She had a black bra under this little white top so her tits were virtually screaming at me. She had shitloads of make up on and her hair was blonder, much more tarty than the day before. I couldn't believe she'd walked up the street looking like that! "Hello, love," I said. "Looking forward to it?" "I can't wait," she says, grinning. "By the way, I didn't ask yesterday, but what's your name?" "Stuart. Stu. Whatever. How about you?" She starts laughing: "Jenny. Slut. Cunt. Whatever." She's still standing by the door when she says that, so I say: "Hadn't you better come in?" To be truthful, I wasn't really sure what to say to the 'Slut. Cunt' bit. I mean, I've never had that when I've asked a bird's name before. It puts you off your stride a bit. Mind you, if she tells you it's 'Slut. Cunt. Whatever' you've got a pretty good ideas of where you stand, aintcha? Anyway, she starts walking across the floor, tits swinging away, and I catch a glimpse of something shiny hanging between her legs. First thing I think is: 'fuck me! The dirty cunt's got no knickers on!' Then: 'hang on, her fucking hole's pierced!' I mean, she'd said about that, hadn't she? But not only that, she's got something dangling off the lips. I'm in front of the counter again, having resumed yesterday's 'all right, darling?' position. She comes and stands about two inches from me. Same reeking cunt. I tell ya, I'm dizzy with it. "It's my Master who calls me those names," she says, still smiling. "But to be honest, that's what I am anyway, so I don't mind who uses them. A spade a spade and a cunt a cunt." I'm thinking: 'Fucking hell, I never thought posh birds talked like that!' "Can't argue with that, love. Can't argue with that." To be honest Dave, I was a bit shaky. I didn't really know what to say. She was doing my fucking head in. Don't get me wrong, I get me fair share of hole, like, but this was fucking ridiculous. "My Master is very encouraging. He's very strong, like you." This is said apros whatsit of fuck all, but at least it gives me a question. "Right, yeah, this Master business, what's the crack there, then?" She moves even closer. Now her cunt is pushed up against my cock, which – obviously - is as hard as fuck. With the heels on – did I mention the heels? - she's almost as tall as I am, and she whispers, all low and throaty, like: "I'm his cunt, I exist only for his pleasure. Without his pleasure I have no meaning. I lose myself in his needs. "Everything he tells me to do, I do. Even if I don't really want to do what he asks, I end up loving it…because I adore him. He knows that I am his whorish cunt who can't resist his orders. I fuck whoever, or whatever, he tells me to fuck. And he loves me for it. He has turned me into a repository for cum. 'A walking spunk bank', he calls me 'a cheap whore spunk bucket'." Blimey! Does he ever buy you flowers and chocs I wonder? But I never said nothing. Well, I mean, what could I have said? 'Oh yes, and do you enjoy many social events at the palace?' Not used to it, see. A bit out of me depth, truth to be told, Dave, mate. "The wonderful thing is that I can never, ever get enough hard cock. Cunt, arse, mouth, all my holes need filling…all the time What do you think of that Stuart, Stu, Whatever?" Sweet, I'm thinking. I'll have a bit of that! But I just says: "Right, er, lovely!" Dead quick, she nibbles my ear and moves her head away. Right, I think, fuck it! I move me hand down to her cunt, feel something cold and, like, metallic between her legs. But then her hand shoots down and pushes mine away. I think, fuck it! She's just a fucking cock-teaser! She smiles and shakes her head. "No, Stuart, Stu, Whatever. I can only let you do that when my Master says that it is all right. I'm hoping that he'll text me soon. He texts me all the time with little tasks." Thank fuck, I think. It's still on. "Okay, yeah," I says to her. "That sounds fair. Gotta wait for the boss, like. Yeah, no worries. So…er, little tasks, hey? What's that all about, then?" She smiles that dirty little smile and sort of snorts. "Oh lots of little tasks. But not enough to keep a cunt like me from wanting more all the time." "Right," says I. "I can see that. No offence, like. Er, what sort of things?" She eased her cunt back against my hard on, and leans over to whisper in my ear. Low, so I have to strain to hear it, she whispers: "Yesterday I thought that my task was only to get a job here. I was itching for some cock, desperate to be used, spunked up. My Master insists that I keep my cunt bare at all times so that my holes can be used instantly upon his command. And I so desperately wanted to have hot cum running out of me, feel gallons of spunk between my thighs, while I talked to you. I've seen you through the window several times and I so wanted you to know what an easy, shameless cunt I am. Do you want to know what happened Stuart, Stu, Whatever?" Too fucking right I wanted to know what happened! Only a bit less than I wanted to know next week's Lottery numbers. Just goes to show how much she was doing my head in, don't it? Anyway, I just nodded, acting cool, like. She smiled again, her cunt pushed slap against my stiff prick. I could feel something hard pressing against me. I remember thinking, 'fuck me, I hope she ain't got metal bollocks!' "I was less than fifty yards from here and he texted me. Do you know what the message said?" I shook my head and resisted the temptation to say, 'of course I don't fucking know what it said. D'you think I'm Uri Fucking Geller or summat?' "It said: 'Good morning, cunt. Fuck a stranger before your job interview. Sir'. How thoughtful of my Master to know that I needed for a cunt-full. As I reread the message, a man ambled by. 'Excuse me', I called after him, 'would you like to use my cunt?' Ha! He almost passed out. I strolled over to him and told him that it wasn't some sort of bizarre set-up. I had needs and a Master who saw to it that those needs were met. "He looked absolutely, utterly shocked. He was an oldish man, perhaps late fifties, short grey hair, but very kind blue eyes. Smartly dressed, he was. My cunt, already wet, flooded. It opened in anticipation of his erection sliding up me. A nice man's spunk to have inside me while I talked to you." Fuck me, I'm thinking, couldn't you have waited fifty yards and let me do the business? I say nothing because she's obviously getting into her story and I don't want to interrupt the flow, so to speak. "'I…I…don't know,' he said. I moved closer. 'My Master sent me a text message,' I said by way of explanation. 'I can't fail him. And you look so sweet and kind. Here, read the message.' As he squinted at the mobile phone screen, I massaged his cock and balls. Despite the fact that he was hugely embarrassed by the number of people in the street, he grew hard. Of course, I didn't give a fuck about the people. After all, by the time my Master has done with me, I will have been fucked by most of the men…and would, no doubt, have licked and been licked by quite a few of the woman." Nice one, I think to myself. Can't beat a bit of the old lesbo action, can you? I never said that, though, just asked her what happened next. She smiled at me and carried on: "He was shaking but he nodded his head, just a tiny bit. He was clearly a little intimidated, so I took him by the hand and led him a few feet down the alley by the jewelers. I hoiked my skirt up, the poor love was shaking, and unzipped him. A nice circumcised cock sprang out. God, he was bug-eyed at the sight of my bald cunt. I was so wet and so open that he slid up me easily. He fucked me quickly, roughly, apologizing all the time. After no more than fifteen or sixteen strokes I felt him cum spurting inside me. Ah, heaven is a cunt full of spunk. Did you know that Stu. Stuart. Whatever? Still shaking, he zipped himself, kissed me clumsily on the mouth, and sped of like he expected me to ask for cash!" I breathed out heavily. Jesus, Dave. What a slut! The bell rang just then and the first punter of the day came in. She stepped back coolly, raised an eyebrow and said: "And what would my boss like me to do first?" The punter wasn't one I knew. He hung about by the mags, pretending he wasn't looking at Jenny, Slut, Cunt, Whatever. She made a fucking sight, I can tell you. From where he was he could probably see her arse cheeks and maybe even the metal thing hanging off her cunt. "Well, boss?" She asked again. "Work?" "Right. Er, I know. There boxes of vibro's and stuff out the back. Fill them shelves there. Any that's empty, ask me what should go there." She nodded. "I do soooo hope that there are at least a couple of things that are empty before the day's out." With that she skipped out towards the backroom. Before she got there, her mobile goes off. Got that ring tone like on the football on ITV. Beethoven…or the other one, you know? Any road, she's reads the message, goes a bit red then grins. She totters back on those heels and thrusts the phone out at me. "My Master's voice," she says. "Look." The message, when I can make it out, says: 'After a suitable display, suck off your new boss, whore' Fuck me, Dave, it's game on! She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "I better get on with filling shelves. Then, I think I'd better suck it and see." Off she went humming that ring tone. Next second, the punter was stood there with a 'How To Be a Better Lover' video. I took one look at him and thought, trouble is pal, it don't tell you in there that if all else fails have a head fucking transplant. I smile at him: Anything else, sir?" I'm thinking, 'a bag for your head, maybe, sir?' I know he's gonna ask. And, course, he does… "Do you have anything, er…" "Er, what sir?" I says, all helpful, like. "More, er…" "'More…er', hey? Ah. Well, to be honest, I'm not sure exactly what sir means there, sir." "You know…er, more…er, more imported?" It was all I could do not to piss myself. "Ah, imported, sir. I'm with you now!" 'Ah, fuck it', I think, 'he ain't Old Bill and he's got cash, stop taking the piss'. Nip back behind the counter and pull out 'Alan Passions' (fucking cracker that one, even if they have misprinted the title on the box). "Bit of this, sir? He nods. "Sixty," I say. He nods. "Will sir still be wanting the other?" He shakes his head. Three twenties, bang, bang, bang. Out the door. A little Linford Christie with a hard-on. Fuck me! I look sideways and she's there bending over a box not four feet away. Her round arse is poking up, legs splayed. Cunt lips on full fucking view! Guess what? She. Has. A. Fucking. Padlock. On. Her. Fucking. Cunt! Straight. Fucking. Up! A padlock on her cunt. Jesus H. Christ! I near enough spunked in me jeans right there and then. "She's got her hands in the box of vibro's but she ain't moving much, just gently swaying so the padlock moves from side to side gently hitting each thigh and bouncing back again. In all honesty, I'm not sure whether to saying anything, I mean I have no fucking idea what the pack drill is for this sort of malarkey. Anyway, I'm happy enough to leave it to her. Can't help stroking me cock, though. Then I think 'fuck it!' I pulled it out and started wanking. She gives this little moan when she hears the fly coming down. I start wanking slowing, eyes glued to her cunt, praying that no fucker comes in. I move a couple of feet forward. I can see cunt juice glistening on the padlock. The game's up, so there's no point in pretending I ain't noticed. "Why the padlock, love?" I ask, still wanking. "My Master likes to keep my cunt locked. No-one enter me when my cunt is locked unless he says so," she says without turning round. "Is my boss pleased with the display?" "Fucking lovely!" I say. "Beats the shit out of Debenham's window!" She almost whispers the next thing: "My cunt may be locked from use at the moment, but my mouth is open. It needs to be full." She stands up and turns round, then pushes me back behind the counter. Just before she goes down on her knees, she stops and, as a sort of afterthought, eases two fingers up her cunt. She frigs herself for a few seconds, pulls the fingers out and briefly puts them under my nose. They've covered in cunt slop and really stink. "Does my boss like his employees perfume?" She asks. I nod. "I thought he would," she says smiling and sinking to her knees. She starts sliding her tongue along the shaft of my cock, slowly, lovingly, like it's precious or something. She tugs me bollocks out of the old boxers and starts nipping and nibbling. Door! Fuck! Punter! Keep calm. "Keep it up, cunt," I says to her out of the side of my mouth. "Suck that fucking cock, like the fucking whore you are." You know, I reckon I'd be well sound at this master business, Dave. Punter's arsing about by the uniforms, hands in pockets pretending he's looking at suits in Next. Prick! The thing is, Dave, fact that there's someone else in the shop is really getting her going. She eating me down to my balls and she's wormed her way round to me arse and slipped a finger in. Really sucking now, squeezing my balls. They're tightening. I'm gonna come in her mouth while this bloke's there. She knows I'm about to shoot, so she really goes for it. Punter's wandering over to me. Fuck! Spunk misses her mouth and goes over her hair, face, neck and tits. Fucking covered, she is! Punter's at the counter. He wants something. Then, dirty bastard that I am, I have an idea. She can only say no, can't she? "Jenny," says I, "we have a customer. Could you come up from there and see what he needs?" For a second she goes all stiff, and I think, 'nah she ain't having a bar of it'. Then, slow as you like, she rises, like a Whatsit from the whatsits. She's stood in front of me, eyes glinting, spunk dripping off her. I'd shot fucking loads over her. I tell you, mate, she was plastered. A dollop drops from her chin onto her tits. The three of us stood staring at it. She wipes it up with her finger, turns to the punter and says: "What can I do for you, sir? Then she popped the cum-drenched finger in her mouth, sucked it all off and said: "Mmmmm. I adore the taste of hot spunk." Tell you what, Dave, I adore the taste of cold lager. Get 'em in and I'll tell you the rest. Yes, there is more, plenty more. Now be a good lad and get to the fucking bar. Cheers! Where was I? Oh yeah, the punter. He don't know what the fuck to say. He's looking round for a Dutch Jeremy Beadle from some triple X satellite show. He don't know what to make of it. Daft cunt just fucks off! Me and her laugh at that, then she says: "Does my new boss wish me to keep on my new make up?" "Oh yeah," says I. "Expensive that, Spunk by Stuart. None of yer Skin Care by Clinique shite round here, girl." I want to ask her things, but the football theme tune kicks in again. Sure enough, it's her Master (I'm thinking, can this bloke see what's going on, or what?). She lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. "What's that?" I says. She leans across, another dollop of cum slides of and drips on the counter. Almost absentminded she scoops it up and licks it from her finger. She shows me the message. 'Cunt, after lunch you will fuck your new boss. You will remain cunt-locked. Sir' Yes! Fucking ace! Pussy for free! Hold on, Gaz is in this afternoon. What's old Master Blaster gonna make of that? So, I tells her about it. Better text him, hadn't you? She nods, taps out a message, presses send and shows me: ''Sir, my boss's boss will also be here this afternoon. Please advise urgently. Cunt.' Almost as I finish reading it, Ludwig pipes up again. 'One New Message'. She reads it and passes the phone over. It says: 'Whore's must please whoever. Two men will fill you better than one. Sir.' Dave, it is party fucking time. Need a piss. Hang on I'll be back. To be continued... Shop Soiled Ch. 3 It's been a long time coming, but hope it's worth the wait. ***** Needed that, Dave, I can tell you. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Message from the Master: ‘whores must please whoever. Two men will fill you better than one. Sir.’ That was it, weren’t it? Anyroad, I’m fucking gagging for it, even though I’d already shot me load over the dirty bitch. I can’t wait for the afternoon when Gaz would show. You know, I was thinking in the bog, if you hadn’t been on your Honeymoon last week, I’d have given you a bell and got you in on the act. You’d have fucking loved her. Honeymoon go okay, by the way? Great? Here, now I think of it, who was that little bird you was doing in the lift at the reception? I ain’t seen her before. The wife’s sister, eh? Fair enough, mate, fair enough. Hang on, you been drinking me pint while I was in the bog? No? Well, I’m sure I had more than that. You go up to the bar, get another couple in and I’ll get back to Jenny. Slut. Cunt. Whatever. Yeeees, mate, I know it’s my round, but I’m in me stride with the story now, ain’t I? Go on, get your lardy arse off to the bar. You know, I reckon that skinny barmaid with the big tits is well into you. Yeah, straight up. Good lad, off you go! Cheers, mate. Anyway, where was I? The text from her bloke, weren’t it? After that, she turns to me and says: ‘Well, Stuart. Stu. Whatever, this’ll be very interesting’. “How’s that then, love?” I asks. She’s grinning all over her face, my spunk’s dried out on her by now so it starts cracking up on her skin. Makes her look well dirty. “Well,” she says, still smiling. “My Master has told me that I must fuck you, and I have to obey my Master. The thing is, he didn’t tell me to unlock my cunt. Have you ever fucked a padlocked cunt Stu. Stuart. Whatever?” To be truthful, Dave, the thought had never crossed my mind. It’s not the kind of thing you normally think of, is it? I mean, fair do’s, who says, ‘I really fancy a shag tonight. Better nip down B&Q and get a padlock for the wife’s fanny’? I just tells her, I hadn’t done that, but I was up for anything. Between you and me, though, Dave, I was a little bit…you know, dubious like. I were thinking, ‘what happens if the bloody thing springs open when I’ve got me knob up her?’ How the bloody hell would I explain that down casualty? Anyway, she goes and bolts the shop door and says: “This one is ‘ontray new’” or something, which I takes to mean ‘well kinky’. What? It’s ‘entre nous’, is it? Means ‘between ourselves’? Fair enough, you live and learn, you live and learn. Anyroad, next thing is she drags me into the stock cupboard. Up goes the tiny skirt, clank, clank goes the padlock and out comes me dick. Hard again, of course, I mean, who wouldn’t be with that on offer? Pulls me back against the wall and my cock is at her slit before you can say ‘coppers, leg it!’ I’m telling you mate, with the padlock on, she was tighter than a nun’s chuffer. I was like slipping the old man up a length of hosepipe. You know me, Dave, I’m not much of a one for bad language, but all I could say was: “Fucking hell!” I never knew a cunt could be so tight…well, that Kenny Robbins is an even tighter cunt, but you know what I mean. Trouble is - and this, mate, is strictly ‘entre nous’ - with it that tight I shot me load almost straight off. Thirty seconds from balls to cunt. I was saying: “Sorry, love, it’s the bleedin’ padlock what caused that.” She was laughing and saying: ‘Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time. You’ll last much longer next time. Now, take me to lunch. A woman can’t live on spunk alone.” So ten minutes later, we’re sat in The Three Feathers. She’s tucking into salmon and new potatoes and I’m trying to force a ploughman’s down me neck. The whole fucking pub is staring at us. She’s sat there, tits almost hanging out, skirt up her arse, covered in dried spunk and she’s got her bleeding legs open. The whole fucking room could see her cunt. I mean, half the people in there’ve known me for years! “Don’t you ever worry about getting arrested going around like that?” I says, by way of conversation. She smiles and says she’s been arrested a couple of times already. “Serious?” I asks. “Did you go down?” Dirty giggle from her – obviously, Dave, I meant did she do time – and she says going down was the least she did. “After all, I wouldn’t have wanted to got into trouble with the police, would I?” Just then, that twat Big Nose Bob passes, on his way to the bog, and whispers: “Here y’are Stu, any chance of chaining me bike up to that?” Everyone pisses themselves laughing …and I’m remembering faces for the next time I’m in. Off goes her mobile. It’s the old Master blaster again. She’s the cat that got the fucking cream when she reads it. “What’s that then, love?” She hands me the mobile. ‘cunt. Take on all-comers this afternoon. Sir.’ “My lucky day,” she says. “And mine,” says I, but I was a bit worried about not getting me fair share. I mean, if she was going to be shagging for England that afternoon, I wanted to get another crack at her before Gaz and whoever else was going to be dipping their wicks. Stands to reason, don’t it, Dave? She’s got other ideas, though. She’s scanning the bleeding place for likely candidates for wick-dipping, by the looks of it. “Can we have another drink?” She asks. “I think I’ll have a pint, like you.” I’m off to the bar, thinking the vultures are gonna descend as soon as me back’s turned. Don’t know why, but they all stay put. No way am I inviting any of them bastards along for the ride, as it were, so I just flash everyone one of them ‘fuck off and leave us alone, or your arse is going through the window’ looks. Which works. We have a couple more drinks, then my mobile goes off. It’s Gaz, wanting to know where the fuck we are. He also says that he’d invited Karl and Des along, and was that okay. I can’t really say no to the boss, so I asks Jenny. Slut. Cunt. Whatever what she thinks. She shrugs her shoulders, says her Master says she had to take on all comers so she doesn’t have any say in it. So, that was my plans for a quiet afternoon threesome down the bog, then. We drink up sharpish and head back to the shop. Gaz and the other lads are there already. He’s grinning like he slept with a coat-hanger in his mouth all night and they’re standing around all nervous like a couple of spare pricks at a wedding. Gaz actually introduces himself to her like she was a regular new employee…you know: “I hope you enjoy you time with the company”, “anything I can do to help,” and all that bollocks. I mean, Dave, mate, seriously, she standing there with her tits virtually hanging out, spunk in her hair, skirt up her arse and Gaz is bidding for Employer of the Year award. Fucking bizarre, I tell you. After the introductions, we all stand round not knowing what to do. It’s like a party where no one brought the booze. You see, Gaz is obviously thinking, ‘well, it’s your shout, mate’. And she’s obviously expecting me to take the lead and I’ve got no fucking idea how to suggest we start synchronized shagging. So it’s a whatsit. Yeah, an impasse, that’s right. Bell goes and a punter wanders in. “Sorry mate, we’re closed,” says Gaz. Bloke looks at her, then me. “Oh, can he stay?” Says this Jenny. “I really like the look of him. Lock the door and let him stay. Please” I look at Gaz; he shrugs. I shrug, too, and say: “All right, mate?” to the punter and go and lock the door behind him. Then I says: “Right, love, shall we get started?” I mean, we’d be there all week if I hadn’t kicked things off. She smiles and says: “Whatever you say, Stu. Stuart. Whatever.” Then she looks over, at bit nervous like, at the punter. He just nods at her. Then, mate, it dawns on. The punter is her fucking Master! I’m expected to fuck some bloke’s bird in front of him! Now, ain’t that going to put you off for starters? So, to give me a bit of time to think about things, I says to her: ‘Hold up, doll. I’ve got to go for a Jimmy.’ She looks all puzzled like, so I says: ‘You know, Jimmy. Jimmy Riddle. Piddle.’ “A piss?” She asks, grinning. “’Sright,” says I. Then she aks why go to the toilet when she was there. I says: “What d’you mean?” She just sits there smirking. Opens her mouth and points at it. It turns out, Dave, and I fucking kid you not, she wants me to piss on her. Straight up! I mean, I’ve done me share of kinky stuff in me time, but never pissed on a bird…well, not deliberate, anyway. “In your mouth?” I says to her. “Or my cunt, or my arse,” says she, all matter-of-fact, like she’s offering me a choice of sandwiches at the vicar’s garden party. I have to admit, Dave, that I wasn’t sure I’d want to give her one after I’d pissed all over her, so I says: “Actually, love, I reckon I’ll hang on until we’ve done. You know, might make it last longer…not that I’m worried about coming too soon, of course.” She looks a bit pissed off – if you’ll pardon the pun – and says: “Well, don’t forget, I’m still very thirsty. Would any of the rest of you like to take advantage of the walking, talking toilet?” “Er, maybe later, darlin’” says Gaz, looking a bit dubious. I reckon he’s thinking the same as me. Karl and Des just shrug and shuffle around, all nervous like. “So,” says Gaz, in his back to business voice, “is it one at a time, or all together?” She glances over at the punter – who I know for sure is her master now – and he gives her some sort of signal. Dunno what, but she clearly gets the message. She’s smiling. “Stu. Stuart. Whatever. Would you like to fuck my arse? I’m afraid it’s not as tight as it should be. You should see some the things my Master has made me put up there. You wouldn’t believe it!” Course I fancied a go at her arse, no matter how slack it was, so I just says: “Too right, love, too fucking right.” Had me knob out, thinking ‘bollocks to all this farting about. I want me shag’. “Gaz, my cunt?” Dirty way she said ‘cunt’. Real dirty, real posh and fucking filthy. “Sweet,” says Gaz, unzipping his jeans. “What about you, mate?” This is to the punter. Punter just holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Ah,” says Gaz, “you’re a watcher, are you? Hey, it weren’t you up a tree last Saturday outside my house when me and the wife was at it, was it?” Punter shakes his head and looks at Gaz like he’s some kind of twat…which I suppose he is really. This Jenny looks over at Karl and Des. “Fancy sharing my mouth? I’ll do my best to get as much of both of you in.” Nice offer, you might think, but they weren’t having a bar of it. Both of them looked liked they were going to throw up. I can’t blame ‘em. I wouldn’t fancy sticking me dick in some bird’s mouth when there was already another bloke in there. I mean, what the fuck would they make of that down the snooker hall? “Nah, love,” says Des. “We’ll take turns…and I’ll be first.” Shot over to her like Gaz’s rottweiler had a hold of his arse. Poor old Carl looked well pissed off that he was going to have seconds on the old gob. “You up for this, mate?” Dave says to me. “Yeah,” says I. “So long as you keep your knob out of the way of mine!” “No problem, Stu. No fucking problem at all.” I says to her that she’d need some lubrication for her arse. She gets down on the floor and opens her cunt. “Better than KY Jelly,” she says. It was only then that I remembered that I’d already spunked up her. She was still full of it. Now, call me a cunt, Dave - and I know you do behind me back - but I wasn’t about to tell Gaz that he’d be sliding up her on my muck. I mean, that’d teach the bastard to give me a fucking poxy two per cent pay rise. Tight-arsed so-and-so. Anyroad, I stick my knob up her and get it nice and wet. She rolls over on to all fours and sticks her arse up at me. Gild-edged invitation, so without further ado I slip it in. Tight enough, not crabs arse at forty fathoms tight, but tight enough. I’m slipping it in and out and then Gaz crawls in underneath her and is up her in one. Ha! I’m thinking, serves you right, you bastard! Des had to pull his knob out while she sorted herself out, but now he was back in there. You’ll never guess what? He's only shot his load after about half a dozen sucks. I mean, what the fuck’s that all about? In fairness to him he didn’t shoot down her throat but sprayed it over her tits. Karl looked well relieved. Des was a bit embarrassed about the old premature elation, as it were, but, seeing as I’d done me load in record time earlier, I wasn’t about to say nuffink. ‘Let him who’s chucked the first house brick’ and all that bollocks. Course, I’m bursting for a slash, so there’s no danger of me cumming before Christmas. This Jenny is moaning like fuck, asking us what she is. “A fucking slag?” I offers, all helpful like. “A cunt and a whore?” Chips in Gaz. We’re banging the fuck out of her by now She’s bouncing around like a greyhound on speed. “Yes, yes,” she’s going, “I’m a fucking slag, a fucking cunt and a whore.” Very self-aware she was, Dave. Very self-aware. You gotta give her that. Horrible thing then. I can feel Gaz’s knob in her, trying to ignore it, and then I can feel him twitching coz he’s about to cum. Fuck me, I think, I’m glad I’m on top. I wouldn’t want his spunk dripping down on me knob, would I? As he shoots off, she starts to cum. Strictly entre whatsit, Dave, but nine times out of ten I miss out on that simultaneous orgasm bollocks. Can never get it right. You tell anyone that and you’ll be propping up a flyover somewhere.! No fucking way am I going to cum at all. The rest of ‘em are dozing off while I’m banging away. In the end she stops. “Having trouble, Stu. Stuart. Whatever?” She asks. “Think I need a piss, to be truthful.” “Ah,” she says. “Thought as much. Shall I try a little trick you might like?” In for a penny, thinks I, so I give her the nod. She get off me cock and tells me to lie down. I do. She straddles me and slides her cunt down on the old fella. I’m rock hard. The way things were going I was going be like that for the rest of me life. Guess what she done next? Can’t? Well, I’ll tell you. She started to piss on my cock. No bull, a fucking flood of piss - all over me cock and balls. And guess what? I came like fuck. Bit embarrassing this bit, but as I got softer and she kept pissing I realised the pressure on the old bladder was getting less. Without even realizing it, I was pissing up her. She loved it, fucking loved it. Got to admit, I didn’t mind it myself…even if I’d have to clean the bastard floor afterwards. Can’t see old Vinegar Drawers back ‘ome being up for a bit of watersports, though. When I was pissing up her she came again…straight up, I never knew a bird could come that often. I mean, Bev comes once and she’s snoring her fucking head off before I am. Anyroad, I digress. That’s right, ain’t it? Digress? Next thing, the old Master just wanders over, sticks his cock in this Jenny’s mouth. She sucks him off, he spunks all over her face and walks straight out without a word to her. I mean, fuck me, I admit I ain’t exactly Roger Moore with the ladies, but even I could see that weren’t exactly respectful…mind you, I don’t think she minded. She looked like that was exactly her idea of an afternoon out. Lovely bird, this Jenny, but a right spunk junkie. Takes all sorts, Dave, I suppose, takes all sorts. Once he’d fucked off, that was it. She thanked Karl and Des for their time – now your run-of-the-mill slapper don’t do that, does she? – thanked Gaz for the use of the shop, kissed me on the cheek and got her bag. At the door, she turned and said: “Do I get the job?” “Darling,” says Gaz. “You’ve got the job, no danger. It’s yours if you want it.” She smiled and said she’d think about it. But, then again, maybe she wouldn’t. And that was it - she was out the door. So, that’s that, I reckon. Anyway, any chance of getting a fucking beer round here? Mind you, of course, now I’m on these bleedin’ tablets, I shouldn’t really be drinking, should I?