“The bar’s empty.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
Shaking his head despairingly as she started wiping glasses, Blond decided to go to the address early. If he waited until eight, he’d be as pissed as a rat, which might jeopardize the 72
meeting. Apart from that, he knew only too well that rats didn’t get pissed. Downing his pint, he said goodbye to Caroline and left the bar. This was the beginning of an exciting and dangerous mission, he knew as he walked along the deserted street. There again, it might be the beginning of nothing more than a meeting with Eva Titsky’s big tits.
75
aking his way to the address, Blond repeatedly turned to ensure that he wasn’t being M followed.
It’s just as well that I’m highly trained in the art of tailing people
, he reflected, noticing a man reading a newspaper beneath a street lamp.
Why stand beneath a street
lamp when the sun’s shining?
Quickening his pace, he rounded a corner, sure that he wasn’t being followed.
Finally reaching the address, Blond looked up at the shabby building. Noticing bars at the windows, he rang the doorbell, wondering why the place looked like a derelict Victorian prison.
Perhaps it is
, he pondered as chains and locks rattled and clanked.
I should have had a piss
before leaving the club.
The door was finally opened by an attractive girl in her teens. With small breasts and long dark hair, she was Blond’s type, and he wondered whether or not she fucked rotten. As she asked him what he wanted, he also wondered whether she took it up the Gary.
“I want anal sex,” he replied. “Oh, sorry. I mean, may I come off? Come in?”
“You may come where you like but I can’t let you in,” she returned. Her wide eyes mirroring suspicion, she looked him up and down, obviously perplexed by his boilersuit. “Before all I know, you might be a sad pervert.”
“I
am
a sad pervert. I’ve also come to see Eva’s tits. I mean, Eva Titsky.”
“You’re somewhat premature.”
“It’s a condition I’ve been plagued with for years. I really must visit my doctor.”
“Is he plagued?”
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“Only by my infrequent and irregular visits to his surgery. Enough about doctors and the black death. I
must
see Eva Titsky. It’s of the utmost importance that I converse with the aforementioned woman immediately or sooner.”
“Eva isn’t here yet, but you might as well come in and wait for her.”
“Great,” Blond smiled.
“You may converse with me, if you wish.”
“I wish very much. I don’t suppose you have any afternoon tea?”
“Your supposition is correct.”
“I’ll take that as a no, then.”
Following the girl along the hall, Blond looked about him as they entered the lounge.
Sparsely furnished with the aroma of cannabis hanging in the air, he didn’t take too much notice of the room as the girl sat on the sofa with her legs apart. Unashamedly displaying the tight material of her bulging navy-blue knickers running between her shapely thighs, she licked her lips provocatively. There was a whitish stain on the crotch of her knickers, he observed as his penis twitched and stiffened. A sign of rampant teenage arousal, he mused, imagining sucking the tight material into his mouth and tasting the cream of girlie sex.
He’d have loved to get his tongue up her young cunny, but he felt that something was wrong as he glanced around the lounge.
This might be a trap
, he mused, noticing a ball and chain on the floor in the corner of the room.
Not the sort of thing one normally finds in a lounge.
There was a pair of crotchless panties hanging from the mantlepiece, which he also found odd. Gazing at the girl’s stained knickers again, he eyed the small indents at the tops of her thighs, imagining his heavy balls resting in the recesses, his solid penile shaft embedded deep within her 77
schoolgirl-tight pussy. Noticing her vaginal slit clearly defined by the wet material of her knickers, he raised his eyes and focused on her pretty mouth as she let out a giggle.
“Why are you looking at my wet navy-blue knickers?” she asked, parting her thighs further, her swollen outer lips partially emerging either side of the thin strip of material.
“I’m so sorry,” he smiled. “It’s just that I have a pathological obsession with teenage girls’ wet knickers.”
“Really? I find that extremely interesting.”
“It’s fascinating. My pathological obsession stems from the days when I was an obsessive pathologist. By the way, my name’s Blond - Haynes Blond.”
“Pussy, Pussy Damp.”
“Yes, I can see that!” he chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have a tissue.”
“No, that’s my name.”
“Atishoo? That’s an unusual name.”
“No, Pussy Damp.”
“Oh, right. Pussy by name, damp by nature. So, Pussy, what’s this meeting about?”
“I have no idea. Eva didn’t tell me.”
“That’s somewhat remiss of her.”
“She never tells me anything because she reckons that I’m completely and utterly mad.”
Raising her eyes to the ceiling as if in thought, she frowned. “I suppose she’s right,” she sighed.
“Where did you meet her?”
“In the Trotsky Club,” Blond replied, again focusing on the wet material covering the girl’s swollen sex cushions. “Eva’s got massive tits, hasn’t she?”
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“They’re fucking enormous.” Lowering her head, she squeezed her small breasts through her T-shirt and grinned. “Are you a tit man, Mr Blond?”
“No, I’m a cunt. I mean, a cunt man. I’m not a cunt. If I was, I’d lick myself.”
“Why would you lick yourself?”
“Well, I like licking cunts so ...”
“Let’s not talk about licking cunts. Would you like afternoon tea?”
“Why, how thoughtful of you.”
“With cucumber sandwiches?”
“Yes, but it’ll be evening tea.”
“Afternoon, evening ... What the fuck?”
“I agree, what the fucking fuck.”
As the girl skipped out of the room, Blond conclusion was that she was totally insane.
Insanity seemed to be rife, which he found worrying but not overly so.
Worry killed the cat
, he reflected, deciding to take the opportunity to take a nose around. Opening a battered bureau, he sifted through a pile of unpaid bills and court summonses. They were of no interest, he mused, again wondering what the meeting was about.
Perhaps it’s about sanity?
Opening a small drawer behind the pile of papers, he pulled out a small notebook.
“What’s this?” he breathed, noticing a list of names on a page headed,
hit list
. “Christ, they intend to hit people.” He was about to read the list but heard the girl approaching and tossed the notebook back into the drawer. Closing the bureau and dashing across the room, he sat on the sofa. Folding his arms and whistling nonchalantly, he hoped she’d fall for the innocent look as she wandered into the room and stood before him.
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“Sorry, but we’re right out of afternoon tea,” she smiled sweetly. “I thought we had plenty in the cupboard. In fact, I could have sworn that we had enough afternoon tea to last for dozens of afternoons. I must be fucking mad.”
As a fucking hatter!
“Morning tea will be fine,” Blond said. “Morning, afternoon, evening
- what the fucking fuck?”
“Will you be here in the fucking fuck morning?”
“More than fucking likely. There again, I very much doubt it. On the other hand, I could be. What I mean is, if I’m here then I’m here. Obviously, if I’m not, then ...”
“God only knows where I’ll be in the morning,” she sighed. “I never know where I’m going to be from one minute to the next. I never know
who
I’m going to be from one minute to the next.”
“I know the feeling. Actually, I don’t because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I was talking about being someone other than me in a minute, or several minutes or not at all. Perhaps I’ll always be me.”
“Yes, perhaps you will.”
“Do you like being you?”
“I’ve got used to it, I suppose.”
“I’d like to be you. Still, let’s not talk about licking cunts.”
I’d rather do it than talk about it!
Blond stared in disbelief as Pussy pulled her T-shirt over her head and displayed the hard roundness of her petite breasts. Her nipples stiffening as she slipped her skirt and pussy-stained knickers down, she kicked the garments across the room and stood before him in all her naked 80
glory. This was a come-on if ever there was one! Blond thought happily as she provocatively licked her succulent lips. Lowering his eyes and focusing on the swell of her hairless vaginal hillocks, he wondered how old she was.
Her body was almost boyish, her breasts barely developed, her cunny lips smooth and firm in youth. It was probably best that he didn’t know her age, he decided.
A little knowledge is
dangerous. Ignorance is bliss. And so’s schoolgirlie arse fucking.
Again thinking that something was wrong as he glanced at the ball and chain in the corner of the room, he decided to fuck the girl before worrying too much about balls and chains.
“You’ll have to be gentle with me, Haynes,” the sexy young girl said huskily, cupping her pert breasts and distending her ripe milk teats. “No one’s ever done it to me before.”
“Fear not, my sweet virgin,” he whispered, his full balls heaving expectantly at the prospect of a damned good de-spunking. “I’ll be as gentle as gentle can be.”
Like fuck, I will!
“You don’t mind fucking me, do you?”
“Mind? No, no of course I don’t mind. In fact, I’ve never minded less about minding. I’d go as far as to say that, in my mind, I’m mindless.”
“You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
“Er ... Yes, right.”
“I’m so very young and innocent and angel-like, you see.”
“Yes, I can see that. Er ... Just let me strip off and I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
Grinning, Blond ripped his boilersuit off and stood before Pussy with his erect penis pointing to the ceiling, his purple globe swollen and in dire need of the welcoming heat of a wet 81
sex sheath. She was going to be a good fuck, he knew as she peeled the hairless outer lips of her vagina wide apart and asked him whether she was doing the right thing. Reassuring her, he gazed at the pink cone of cream-glistening flesh surrounding the inviting entrance to her young vaginal sheath. Grabbing his solid organ by the base in readiness to give her the screwing of her young life, he wondered how tight her lickable cunt was.
The tighter the better!
This was a stroke of luck, he thought as he eyed her sex juices decanting from her pinken love mouth. But he again felt that something was wrong. There was nothing odd about a teenage girl opening her vaginal valley and exposing her sex-drenched inner flesh. After all, Blond had spent many an afternoon behind the bike sheds at the local girls’ school where dozens of horny little tarts had opened their vaginal valleys and exposed their sex-drenched inner flesh. But to be lured to what appeared to be a Victorian prison and find a young virgin begging to be fucked?
Something was very wrong.
Deciding not to worry too much as Pussy turned round and stood with her feet wide apart, he focused on the mounds of her pert buttocks, the deep ravine of her anal divide. Bending over and touching her toes, the girl parted her feet further as Blond gazed longingly at the wet entrance to her tight vaginal duct nestling below her sweet bottom-hole. His eyes widening as she squeezed a banana out of her drenched cunt, he realized that she was no more a virgin than was his mother.
God rest her fanny.
The steaming banana protruding alluringly between the pouting lips of her vagina, he knelt behind her and began to eat the hot, sticky fruit.
Pussy gasped and quivered as he parted her firm buttocks, fully exposing the small brown hole nestling within her anal gully as he chewed on the cunny-milked banana. Sucking the juices 82
of desire from her swollen outer lips, lapping up the creamed banana from her gaping hole of lust, he focused on the brown iris of her rectal entrance. Wondering whether she’d been introduced to Gary Glitter as he finished his snack, he pondered on the implausible situation.
Firstly, where was Eva Titsky and her fucking great tits? Secondly, why didn’t Spew know anything about a London contact? Thirdly, where the fuck had the afternoon tea got to?
Sixthly, what was Pussy Damp’s role in the mysterious affair? And what the hell was she doing with a banana stuffed up her hot, wet, fuckable, fingerable, lickable, suckable shaggable, cockable cunt?
Cockable?
There were too many unanswered questions for Blond’s liking. And too many adjectives roaming around the foul swamp of his perverted mind.
“I’m going to slip my finger into your tight bottom-hole,” he said, wondering at her reaction to the suggestion of such a vile and crude act.
“I love it up my bum,” she breathed huskily. “I mean, I’m sure I’ll love it up my bum.”
“Why did you put a banana in your pussy, Pussy?”
“I ... I didn’t. It must have slipped in without me realizing.”
“Stranger things happen at sea.”
“No, it happened in the kitchen while I was preparing a fruit salad.”
“Stranger things happen in kitchens. I usually have beans on toast in the kitchen. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever discovered beans on toast up a girl’s cunny. Talking of beans on toast, do you masturbate.”
“Fuck me, yes! Every day I tear my wet schoolgirlie knickers off and rip my hairless cunt lips wide apart and have a damned good ... Er ... Masturbate? What’s that?”
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“I’ll teach you the fine art of masturbation after I’ve rogered your arse. But first, I’m going to massage your rectal tube to warm you up.”