The holiday week on the coast was rapidly coming to an end. My three roommates and I have had plenty of fun baking our bodies to a crisp, dipping them in the cool waters of the English channel, playing beach volleyball, sitting at the tables of the outdoor cafes and observing the passersby, gossiping, eating and drinking more than should be allowed by law and generally having a very good end of the summer.
This was to be the last evening before we squeezed our golden, still somewhat burnt selves into a beetle convertible and headed for London, returning to our studies and part-time jobs, interviews and panic-stricken attempts to scrape enough dosh for the obscenely high apartment rent, which we dutifully shared between the four of us.
We met through the university bulletin board newspaper ad, all searching for roommates and finally deciding that were we to join efforts, we could afford one of those pricy but gorgeous places in Knightsbridge where people drive Jaguars and walk their two-thousand-pound dogs on the diamond studded leashes. Lacking the luxuries of a decent car and expensive pet we were nevertheless satisfied.
Part-time jobs helped to make the ends meet along with what the scholarships, grants and our parents afforded us. A week in Brighton full of play and getting shit-faced every night was just what the doctor ordered before we returned to the piles of books, unreasonable essay deadlines, hours of grueling studies in the libraries and stuck up professors, some of which believed that to treat students humanely would spoil them and leave them unprepared for the harshness of the today’s world.
We decided to spend the last night on what we called the playground, which is really a couple of miles long stretch of cobble-stoned pavement squeezed between the beach and the busy street, a stone’s throw away from the famous amusement park boardwalk, packed with pubs, restaurants, fish’n’chips places, souvenir shops, filigrees, antique bookstores, tattoo parlors, outdoor cafes and the rest of the touristy attractions, which if one has not spent all their money yet will certainly milk you dry of your last penny.
“We shouldn’t be getting smashed if we’re to drive back in the morning.” Said Saffron, the beauty in our group, a tall, black-haired and green-eyed Irish lass, who was well aware of her attractiveness and knew how to use it, making men stupidly enchanted with her.
“No, no!” exclaimed Maya, a small Slovenian girl who was the last to join our group. Despite living in London for two years her accent was still as thick as it had been the first day we met her and many a time, when upset or annoyed she would break into an avalanche of cursing in her own language, bringing the rest of us dangerously close to peeing our panties from the hilariousness of the situation. “You don’t get smashed!” she yelled from the bathroom where she was fixing her hair and make up. In conversation, her grammar was appallingly horrible and sometimes I wondered how she managed to pass all her exams satisfactorily, although we all had a sneaking suspicion that her awkward way of speaking was a front, created to make people take interest in her. “You driving tomorrow! We sleeping!”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Whined Katie in her cockney accent. “You’ll be the driver, we’ll co-pilot.”
Saffron rolled her pretty eyes. “With your co-piloting we’d be lucky if we ended up as close to London as Liverpool.”
I broke out laughing and the sight of Maya stepping out of the bathroom with one eye made up, the other one still untouched, her long hair a wild mess, which gave her the look of a crazy person made us all scream with laughter. “Wat?” asked Maya and we couldn’t help but stomp our feet and giggle.
“Smotke!” declared Maya and marched back inside the bathroom, leaving us to eye each other with raised eyebrows and continue barking.
“One of these days we should make her write all those words down and translate them. I really want to know when she’s swearing and when she’s just playing.” Said Katie and we all nodded in agreement, the giggle attack far from over.
Finally ready to face the world, dressed and made up to attract, we decided to hide a few quid under the mattress and therefore prevent the disaster of the previous summer when we had to call Katie’s dad to the rescue, having spent our last money on the drinks, unable to afford even a drop of petrol.
“What if somebody comes in and knicks it?” asked Saffron with face full of fake concern.
“Nobody will come in and knick anything, for Pete’s sake.” Said Katie. “This place stinks, you’ve just managed to kill the last little ozone we had left with that hairspray of yours! It’s a natural repellant to animals and people alike.” Saffron stuck her tongue at all of us and closely inspected the tank top she intended to wear.
That particular evening I was in a happy mood. Nicely tanned with freshly washed hair and wearing a canary yellow sleeveless dress that reached above the knees, the color enhancing my complexion, I knew I looked good. It was exactly as my sister Fiona always told me – if you feel good on the inside, people would perceive you as such.
We dined in a small Italian restaurant on the beach and then roamed from pub to pub, having a pint in each and I was glad to notice that I got quite a few stares and winks from the blokes. For the past week, none of us had had anything bigger going than an occasional flirt and we were quite happy with that. No immense dramas and tearful goodbyes, months of waiting and hoping only to be disappointed that the promised had not been realized. Or worse, if it were to come true, it would probably be destined to turn out to be a disaster. This holiday would be a success in every way.
By the time we decided to visit the nightclub Charity for the last time before leaving Brighton, we were all pleasantly tipsy, dangerously approaching the limit of drunkenness.
“Plenty of single blokes in there, ladies!” said the guy at the door. “Would be a sin to charge, so go ahead!” He grinned, his eyes pausing on Saffron.
We entered and were immediately caught up in the smell of sweaty bodies and cigarette smoke, loud music vibrating through us as if we were all made of paper. “He wasn’t kidding about it being packed, was he?” coughed Katie.
Booths with waist high separates between the round, benched tables and the main path around the club were encircling the entire outer wall of the club save for the DJ booth and a bar in the middle. Another, lower row of smaller booths with tables and benches enveloped the dancing floor, which was full of swinging and swaying bodies, some barely moving in the rhythm, others pouncing wildly, completely out of tune with the music playing overhead.
Every table was occupied and we could not see enough space in the booths for the four of us to squeeze into. Small groups of clubbers were dotting the walkthrough area, making it very hard to move between the bar and the seat, should one be lucky enough to have arrived early enough to claim it.
“Oh, oh…” exclaimed Maya excitedly, waving her arm in the air towards one of the booths opposite the entrance. “Go, go, go…” She pushed us all forward and then bolted past us towards the small clearing from which a group of girls had just left. It wasn’t a sitting area, rather a few square inches of the path between the booths, which was currently unoccupied. Like a flock of sheep we followed, glad to be able to find at least that much free space.
Successfully managing to position ourselves in a way where we had clear view of the dance floor, the bar and the entrance, Saffron and Katie gestured that they were going to attempt the laborious task of getting some drinks.
“Make sure nobody takes the place!” yelled Katie in my ear, as the music was too loud for normal conversation. I nodded and leaned back towards the booth, jumping away from it quickly as I felt a hand brush against the bare skin behind my knees. I turned around half expectant to see an annoyed face over my clumsiness, but the guy to whom the hand belonged was looking the other way, into the mirrored wall.
“Well, I was going to apologize,” I murmured and turned back towards the dance floor.
“Waaat?” screamed Maya and simply shook my head. I couldn’t be bothered with explanations.
I could see Katie and Saffron have made very little progress towards the bar, bumping against and being pushed by other people in the club, giggling and apologizing, panic stricken looks pointed towards the floor. Their little feet were obviously being heavily stomped on.
I pulled a cigarette out of my purse, lit it and tried to smoke it without burning anybody’s bare skin or obviously expensive piece of clothing, gently swaying in the rhythm of the music.
I froze when I felt the hand brush against my thigh again. This time I was almost certain it was on purpose; I wasn’t standing that close to the booth. I turned around to give the guy a dirty look, but he was still not looking back at me. His gaze was pointed sternly at the mirror in front of him, his eyes observing something on the other side of me.
He seemed to be very tall and slim, which made the woman sitting next to him appear tiny, almost like a child, although her aged hands that she kept carefully folded in her lap proved otherwise. The man’s hand was thrown behind her, not touching her shoulders, rather hanging off the edge of the booth into the path of the passersby. I kept looking at him in the mirror, while he continued ignoring me.
The instant I turned back, I could feel his fingers brush against my thigh. I looked at Maya, but she was staring after Saffron and Katie, who were still trying to make their way to the bar. I looked around the other booths and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to what was going on. Unless someone was really interested, I seriously doubted anybody would realize my predicament.
Warm fingers brushed against my bare skin again and now I was really getting pissed off. He’d better not try and tickle me, I hated that and I had a right mind to turn around and embarrass him in front of the woman, who was obviously his companion.
This time however, the fingers paused on my skin, gently caressing it, slowly working their way up my leg. Inch by painful inch, in gentle circular motions he reached the hem of my dress and slid his hand underneath. I turned my head to the side just enough to see that he shifted in his seat, pushing his arm further over the edge, making it easier for him to reach me.
As awkward as the situation felt, I enjoyed the gentle caress and this time, I didn’t move away or spin around to show him that I didn’t like it. Quite the opposite, I began liking it just fine, and in order to give him a better access I sidestepped, slightly prying my thighs apart, ever so careful not to touch the back of his companion’s head.
The guy certainly had balls. Were he to reach too far past the woman, she could have easily seen his hand under my dress in the mirror. The danger of the situation had started to excite me. I felt a twinge between my legs and quietly cursed myself for not wearing a thong, but picking the good-girl knickers, more resembling grandma panties than anything remotely sexy.
Suddenly, the man leaned towards the woman next to him and whispered something in her ear, giving himself a few inches of maneuvering space, slipping his hand all the way up my thigh and brushing it against my knickers and sliding it between my legs. Although welcome, the move was so sudden, it propelled me a step away from the booth.
“Waaat?” yelled Maya again and I couldn’t help myself but laugh out loud.
“I’ll be right back, just going to the loo.” I yelled in her ear.
“No, no!” she screamed back, panic obvious on her face. “We lose space!”
“No, we won’t.” I said and nodded towards the bar. “Saff and Katie are coming back, so you’ll be fine.” I turned my head towards the guy, whose hand had been paying my thigh its undivided attention, making sure that he had heard me. He still didn’t afford me even one quick glance. His hand was now again hanging off the edge off the booth. I noticed a wedding band on the ring finger.
The girls were making their way back, carefully balancing bottles of beer high up in the air, making sure not to clunk anybody in the head. Before Maya could voice any more protests, I slipped away and threw myself into the crowd of sweating bodies, trying to bulldoze my way into the ladies’ room.
Very predictably, the line in the bathroom was impossibly long and it had taken good ten minutes before I was able to fight my way into an empty stall. I pulled down my knickers, my pussy swollen with arousal. The whiteness of my underwear was stained with my own juices and after a few seconds of careful consideration, I pushed them all the way down to my ankles and stepped out of them. I balled the tiny cotton cloth into a ball and stuffed it into my purse.
You’ve lost your mind! I thought and bravely exited the stall, returning into the stench of the club. Despite the heat in the crowded place, I felt myself shiver. Some of it was excitement; a lot was pure fear. I was frightened of my own boldness.
My dress reached to the middle of my thighs and there was no immediate danger of me flashing the club with my white, bare arse as a neon sign, but I was acutely aware that any sudden movement, rising of my hands or careless bumping against me by other people could achieve just that. Ever so carefully, I inched my way back to where my friends stood, firmly pressing the dress against my legs. I tried to avoid other people’s eyes, as I felt my shame might be written all over my forehead.
It must have been a mixture of alcohol, good mood, the atmosphere of the last of the carefree days before returning to the grueling routine of the student’s life that had made me confident beyond even my own expectations.
When I reached the girls, I gratefully accepted the beer that was offered and pushed Maya out of the way: “My spot. Thank you!”
Clicking her tongue, Maya rolled her eyes but let me have the place back. As she was moving away, I was very careful to glance at the guy and particularly his hand. It was still hanging off the edge of the booth and I could have sworn that Maya was not the receiver of the kind of attention I had been minutes before.
I stood between Katie and Saffron, sipping on my beer and gently swaying in the rhythm of the music. I waited for the fingers to touch me again, but nothing happened. A track overhead flowed to another one and then the next, but the guy made no move. Disappointment started to set in the longer I waited. As worried as I had been over my desires, nevertheless I craved the stranger’s boldness and I suppose also his arrogance in believing that I could be touched like he had touched me before. I wanted to feel his fingers on my thighs, slowly creeping up. My body felt like an exposed nerve, ready for the inevitable, afraid that it would overreact when it finally happened.
Some ten minutes later, my entire body on edge, I began feeling silly. Either he had lost interest in me or he had turned around when I was leaving or coming back and didn’t like what he saw.
I took a tiny step back towards the booth, closer to the stranger’s hand. Nothing. I approached him for another inch, careful not to bump against his companion’s head. Still nothing happened. Closing my eyes in deep concentration, I leaned back even more, bumping my foot against the booth, finally managing to make contact between the back of my thigh and his fingers. For a moment nothing happened and my heart sank. I felt like an idiot now.
“Well!” I said loudly, stepping forward determined that our little group should move away, either to another spot or out of the club altogether. None of my friends seemed to have a particularly good time, although they didn’t seem to suffer either. As I took another breath to continue my thought, I felt a tug on the back of my dress. Yesssss!
I paused, awkwardly looking around and noticing that all three girls’ eyes were on me. Without moving my head I looked down, trying hard to concentrate on what the hand behind me was doing, afraid I’d miss any little brush of it against my bare skin.
Another tug on my dress made me close my mouth and step back. I looked at Saffron and smiled in embarrassment.
“What?” yelled my friend and I shook my head.
“Forget it! Nothing!” I said but she kept staring at me. “Mmm…” I murmured, pointing to the dance floor where a funny looking guy was throwing his arms and legs all over the place as if he was having a seizure. His eyes closed, a satisfied smirk on his face was bizarrely amusing and I was glad when Saffron’s eyes followed my finger and landed on the crazy dancer.
At the same time, I felt the stranger’s hand slip under the hem of my dress. His fingers were touching me so softly that I had to gather all my strength not to giggle. He was tickling me now. The fingers moved half an inch farther up my thigh and slid slightly down. Another inch up and back down again.
He was working his way towards my pussy and the longer he took, the more aroused I became. It had taken him a full minute to reach between my legs and by the time his warm fingers touched between my legs, I could feel my pussy swollen to the point where I had to move my feet apart, as it was becoming uncomfortable.
When he reached my bottom, he paused for a moment, and then touched around it a bit as if searching for something, obviously taken aback by the inability to find my knickers that he had felt before. I turned my head to the right, looking at Katie and giving her a smile. She smiled back. At the same time, on the periphery of my vision, I could see the stranger turn around and look at my back. Success!
You think you’re the only one who can shock? I thought to myself and eagerly waited for the next reaction. Obviously satisfied over my lack of underwear, his fingers slipped under my arse, reaching for my pussy. Again they paused, then moved around and paused again.
Yep, completely hairless! I thought and thanked God I had enough sense to shave that evening in the shower.
Ever so carefully, I turned around, finding the man’s eyes in the mirror opposite him, behind my back. This time, he was staring squarely at me. He was a good-looking guy, although I wouldn’t have described him as my type. He looked much older than what I had thought at first. He must have been in his late forties, maybe even early fifties. I was struck by the realization that he was probably older than my dad. At that time, I couldn’t give a toss about it.
I felt him place the palm of his hand face up on my pussy, his fingers gently rubbing it, half an inch forth, half an inch back. I wanted to sway in the rhythm of his touch, but was afraid I might alert the woman behind me and had remained perfectly still.
At that moment, I became oblivious to everything but my crotch and the gentle massage of the stranger’s fingers. He pushed them back and forth and then made a tiny circle, slipping his middle finger between the lips, finding my clit, rubbing it just as gently as he did my thigh before. His finger paused on the small, by now swollen triangle and he pressed against it, sending a wave of pleasure throughout my body.
My own fingers were wrapped around the bottle of beer squeezing the glass as if trying to break it. My body tightened, my mind blocking out anything but the feel of the warm fingers on my pussy.
For me to achieve an orgasm, the other person would usually have to work for a while, but this time, it seemed another few seconds of this and I’d be shivering right there in the club, surrounded by my friends, probably embarrassing myself beyond anything I ever imagined.
The man’s finger slid off my clit, finding its way downward and positioning itself on the entrance of my pussy. He paused like that as if giving me a moment to compose myself. A second later, I could feel the tip of the finger entering me gently, pulling back out and re-entering.
I don’t believe I remember ever feeling hornier than on that particular night. The stranger, the impossibility of the situation and the danger over being caught and mocked by others as well as my friends and of course the effect of alcohol all added to the excitement.
The man pulled his finger out of me and as if to show me how wet I had become, he carefully wiped it against the inside of my thigh, only to re-enter me again. I looked down at the front of my dress and noticed that my nipples were hard and erect against my dress, the bra that I was wearing doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact. My friends seemed to be oblivious to what was going on, continuing to sway in the rhythm of the music and intently observe the goings on around us.
It had taken all my strength to remain standing still and keep my face straight. I wished more than ever that I were in bed with this man, even though I didn’t know him, even though he was not my type. I convinced myself that he would probably be the best lover ever. The attention that he was giving me was making me half crazed with lust. I could care less about anything at that particular moment, my body had taken charge and I followed.
I closed my eyes and with the stranger’s fingers between my legs working relentlessly, I fantasized. I see us leaving the club together. No, no. He whispers something to the woman and gets up, walks past me and gives me a meaningful look. I tell my friends I need to step out for a moment and almost have to fight them off, as they want to come with me. We’ve done everything together for the past week, we do most of the things together when we’re in London, why the hell would I want to go out all by myself now?
Oh, I tell them, I need some more cigarettes and I would like to take a quick walk, I need a bit of air and a few minutes to think. They let me go and I almost run out of the club, panic rising in my stomach. I look around wildly, hoping that I didn’t misread the man’s hint.
There! He’s standing at the corner of the club, slightly hidden in the shadows and I almost miss him. I walk up and without a word he puts the hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward into an alley leading to the back of the building. We find ourselves in a labyrinth of narrow passageways amongst the backyards of the group of houses, warded off by wooden fences.
We’re walking for a while, his hand still resting on my back, my entire body shivering in anticipation, my mind screaming out the warnings, which I ignore.
“Hey,” he whispers and I realize that he had finally stopped and I had gone too far. “Come here, you.” His voice is louder now, and my God isn’t this just the lowest and sexiest voice I have heard in my life!
I walk back and take the offered hand. He pulls me towards him and I press my body against his. He is so very tall, six maybe seven inches taller than me, it makes me feel like I’m a child. His arms wrap around me and for a moment I feel like I’m in the safest of places. I can feel the energy of his strong body keeping me warm. I wish we could stay like that for a while, but we’re not here to cuddle and I know that.
His arms are now racing up and down my back, he leans down and kisses me on the lips, his tongue slipping inside my mouth and finding my own tongue, caressing and sucking on it. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, his body smells like the manly cologne, and I am as soft as butter in his arms. I can feel my dress being pulled up.
His hands squeeze my butt cheeks gently, rubbing the skin as if preventing it to get cold. He turns me around so that my back is against his front. His long arm reaches over my belly and the same fingers, which are slipping in and out of my pussy in reality, are rubbing against the clit in my fantasy.
I can hear his zipper being undone, and his hardness presses against my back. He is so tall that for a moment I worry we wouldn’t be able to have sex standing up. I would most certainly not want to lie down in the alley.
One of his hands still on my clit, the other one pushes against my back, bending me forward, forcing me to grab onto the wooden fence in front of me. I am so ready for him that I need no more foreplay. My pussy is dripping wet and swollen and he knows it.
With the dress hiked up over my lower back I can feel him position his cock against my pussy and grab onto my hip tightly. He pushes forward and enters me easily, my head spinning with the sensation of a hard cock entering my softness.
There is no time for gentle lovemaking. We are both highly aroused, hardly waiting for the ultimate feeling of release and with his cock buried inside of me to the hilt he grabs onto my shoulders, pulls out a bit and slams against me so hard I want to scream with pleasure but don’t dare to, as most of the houses amongst which we have taken refuge are illuminated from the inside, throwing a soft light onto our coupling bodies.
I sigh deeply, trying not to be too loud and am grateful to hear him moan softly, too. He obviously enjoys me as much as I enjoy him. The awkwardness of the position and the mismatch of our heights don’t seem to bother us at all.
He is fucking me hard now and I am holding onto the fence as if my dear life depended on it. For some reason I look up into the window of the house in front of me and to my horror see a young woman standing in the window, looking at us.
I turn back in panic, trying to alert the man behind me, only to realize that he is looking at the window, too. The realization that we are all aware of each other makes the entire thing even more exciting.
I catch the rhythm of his body, pushing against him every time he rams deeper inside of me. I can feel his hard cock pulsating; his fingers are squeezing my shoulders to the point where I am almost certain I will be left with a bruise. I don’t care. The sensation that he is giving me is beyond anything I have ever known.
I am pleased to hear that he is failing to stiffen his moans and as his breathing speeds up, his soft moans and groans tell me that he will be reaching the climax at any given moment. I reach behind me and grab onto his shirt, pulling on it and pressing his body against mine, telling him silently that I would like him to speed up and fuck me even harder.
He lets go of one of my shoulders and bends over me, leaning against my back. His free hand now returns to the front of my body, finding the clit and pressing against it in synchronicity with his ramming. “Ah…” he half whispers, half moans, making me voice my own pleasure as quietly as I can, knowing that I am probably failing miserably in an attempt to be discreet. A quick glance at the window in front of me tells me that the woman is still observing us. I close my eyes and hope that she will not call the police. I don’t want this to end ever, especially not prematurely and in a shameful display to the authorities.
“I’m cumming, babe…” he says and I wish we could continue like this for a bit longer, but all the same I am ready, too.
“Me…too…” I say and he slams against me so hard he almost sends me flying against the fence. His hand on my shoulder prevents that embarrassing moment and I can feel my clit explode under his attentive fingers. Wave after wave of pleasurable tingles spread from my pussy down my thighs and up my torso. I feel like I’ve blanked out for a moment, I can’t see anything. The feeling inside my pussy is all that my mind can focus on.
A rude shove on my side brought me back from my fantasy and I opened my eyes, only to see Saffron’s concerned face peering at me. “Are you okay?” she asks.
I could only nod, squeezing the purse in my hand so tight I was afraid I would break off all my fingernails. I have cummed hard right there, standing up, in the club right next to my friends, with the man’s finger now deep inside my pussy, undoubtedly feeling my muscles squeezing it desperately, wanting it to stay in for a while longer.
I felt my own juices slowly oozing down my legs and to prevent any telltale signs I quickly put my feet together, squeezing my thighs in a desperate attempt to stop it from trickling farther.
“I’m okay,” I whispered to Saffron. “I just felt a bit dizzy…” I said and she nodded, obviously still not convinced.
“Shall we go?” she asked and I felt the stranger’s finger slowly exiting me. Of course he couldn’t have kept this up for much longer without being detected by someone. I feel his hand wiping against my thighs and then softly tapping my butt.
I didn’t turn my head, but carefully rolled my eyes around, making certain nobody had seen what had just happened.
“Shall we go?” Saffron repeated and I shook my head.
I couldn’t just walk out the way I was. I had to go back to the bathroom and put my knickers on. I seriously doubted I would be able to concentrate on anything else that night. The incredulity of the deed just finished would boggle my mind for a long time to come. I could not believe what I had just allowed to happen.
The stranger’s hand had completely left my body now, not even touching the dress. I wanted to turn around and look at him. I wanted to show him that I had enjoyed him more than I wanted to, more than I would ever allow myself to believe it would be possible. I didn’t do that, however. Instead, I headed for the bathroom one more time, pushing through the crowd on wobbly knees, hoping I wouldn’t loose my footing.
The long line in the bathroom didn’t bother me this time. My body was still shivering and my nipples showing against my dress, as I was leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath and calm myself down. I bolted inside the first stall that was free, ignoring loud protests from the girls who were in the line in front of me.
I wiped myself with the toilet paper and found my knickers in the purse, pulling them on with regret. I wished I could do the same thing again, but of course, once was madness enough.
As I returned inside the club to where my friends stood, my heart sank in disappointment when I realized the man and his companion had left the booth. I didn’t even know his name. I knew it would have been absolutely impossible to see him again, but somewhere deep down inside of me, I had hoped that somehow I would be able to.
The beer that I tried to finish tasted foul. I felt annoyed and pissy. I just wanted to go back to the hotel and crawl inside my bed, reliving the minutes of sheer ecstasy that I had shared with a complete stranger.
I felt ashamed for a while and was never able to bring myself to tell what happened to any of my friends. I didn’t even dare put it in a diary, aware that one of them might browse through it were I to leave it lying around as was my bad habit.
Still, even now, years later, I remember the stranger fondly and hope that by some miracle I might bump into him again and this time, I would make sure things were done properly.