Punk Slut s*s - Sex Stories

Punk Slut s*s

... tutted, mildly amused. &#034I'll get it off, c'mere,&#034 Jenny said, &#034I'll spit into a hanky and rub it off, like mum used to do when you were little.&#034 &#034You haven't got a hanky,&#034 I pointed out. &#034True,&#034 Jenny shrugged, and then abruptly just spat lightly on my cheek then rubbed it with the tips of her fingers. &#034Eew,&#034 I complained. &#034Stop moaning little boy,&#034 Jenny giggled, wiping the traces of her lipstick from my face. &#034Cheers s*s, I guess.&#034 &#034Right, seriously, let's get going. I wanna get good and d***k. It's almost eight o'clock already for fuck's sake.&#034 &#034Okay, let's get going.&#034 We got cash and things then stepped out into the night. We lived in a pleasant suburban road but fortunately it was only a mile to the city centre so we could walk to and from the bar. It was a cold and clear night, the full moon hanging in the air. The road was quite but down one end it was possible to see the high-rises of the city centre looming in the distance, dark monoliths glittering with lights and the promise of a wild nightlife to cater for all tastes. I locked the door whilst Jenny lit up a cigarette. &#034I thought you quit&#034 I commented as we then walked down the garden path. &#034I quit quitting,&#034 Jenny shrugged, blowing smoke from her pierced nose &#034Want one?&#034 &#034Erm...sure, fuck it.&#034 &#034That's the spirit Billy. Here.&#034 She gave me a cigarette and lit it for me. We strolled up the road, aiming ...

... roughly for the city centre. The punk bar, Jenny's favourite, was stuck away down a backstreet, flanked by a massage parlour (&#034The most beautiful ladies in town!&#034 promised the neon sign above the non-descript door) and a fairly busy kebab shop. Jenny and me approached, me feeling slightly apprehensive but my s****r quite confident. I didn't see a name for the bar, it didn't seem to need one. A massive bouncer stood on the door in a big leather jacket. There were a couple of guys just leaving the place, d***k and merry, and against the wall a couple dressed all in denim were snogging and groping each other. &#034Here we are,&#034 Jenny chirped. She strolled up to the doorway, me in tow. &#034Hiya Jen,&#034 the bouncer greeted her. &#034Hey Dave,&#034 Jenny replied. &#034New boyfriend?&#034 &#034Nah, this is my b*****r.&#034 &#034Hi mate,&#034 the bouncer nodded at me. I was six-foot-one but he looked at least half-a-foot taller than me. &#034Hi,&#034 I greeted, cheerfully. I followed Jenny into the bar. There was a small red-lit hallway straight inside with a desk in the corner next to the doorway into the main club. On the desk was an ancient cash register, and sitting at it was a young woman idly filing her nails and wearing an iPod. Jenny paid the five quid for both of us to the woman and lead me into the bar. There was currently a live-act on the stage, a wild punk band. The singer, wearing just jeans and boots and with a torso plastered in tattoos, was shouting out ...