The Pedo-Files Pt 1 - Sex Stories

The Pedo-Files Pt 1

... her. "You fucking bitch!" I said when I realised, "You sad fucking bitch!" "Alan said the only way to get a flat was to get up the duff." she said. "Next time fucking ask," I said, "I always wanted to try bareback!" "You're nice," Sandra said, "Not like Mr Andrews, he hurts me." "Right," I agreed, "He's some kind of Pedo right?" She nodded, "He said Dad stole some stuff and if I didn't dress like a schoolgirl and pretend to be under age he would get Dad the sack." she said, "Was it horrible?" I asked. "Actually," she said, "It was exciting at first, but then he started hurting me." I had to hold her, feel her tits against my chest, crush her to me, "Like you're doing," she added "Sorry," I said. "John," she said, "Al says you two are going to hang some Pedos up by their bollocks." "Shit that's supposed to be a secret!" I said. "Will you do Mr Andrews?" she asked. "Can I fuck you bareback?" I asked. "If you'll hang Mr Andrews up by his bollocks," she agreed. "Get your legs apart then," I said "Cos the sputnik is about to dock!" "I think you got that wrong you mean a Soyuz," Sandra says as I eased into her again, "It was on Discovery channel last Ooohh, week, Oooh John," she says, "That's really nice." We fucked long and slow and quietly, "I always fancied you," I lied. "Liar," she said, "But you fancy me now don't you?" "Yes," I admitted, "Definitely." ================================================= Tony Mullholland was in the club Friday night, "Right you two," he says ...

... as he came across Al and me, "Why are you supping ale when there are Pedophiles roaming the streets and lamp posts to hang them from." he flashed a photo, "67 Argyll street, a party, men only, its only half a mile." "Right," I agreed. "It's Friday," he reminded us. "Right," I agreed. "Rope," he said and handed me a coil of thin nylon rope. "Right," I agreed. "So I'll ply the delectable Sandra with fizzy drinks and you two can do some community service, if you value Al's license." Tony suggested. "Right," we agreed. It wasn't even half a mile to Argyll street across the cemetery, Argyll Street was all poncy villas, stockbroker villas for nobs and that, surveyors, mine superintendents that sort of wanker, 67 was like something out of Dallas set back from the road with a big porch thing over the front door, totally out of place, it was the vet's once and then some poncy git from down south had it all done up with antique pine, they stripped from the Methodist Chapel when the turned it into a Mosk and it was filled with tat or "Antiques," most of which came from local junk shop. We found the party was in full swing, so we shinned up a drain pipe and got on top of this portico or porch thing so we could watch them at it through the upstairs windows through a gap in the curtains, yuck. Old Councillor Maesborough the Lib Dem was screwing the ass of some queer in German SS uniforms and then we saw the school teachery one with a lad in St Benedicts school uniform. "What shall we do ...