Magic Wanda - Sex Stories

Magic Wanda

... she paused and then looked at me. We congratulated him on his twenty five point total and headed to ‘Jellies’ nightclub. But it was a Sunday, and the doorman said they were closing in half an hour and wouldn’t let us in. “Shit,” said Dave. “I don’t feel like going home yet.” “Yeah, me neither,” said Ringo. “Well, I think the best we’re going to manage at this hour is a kebab or a curry. Any preference?” I asked “I fancy a good Indian myself,” said Ringo. “Fair do’s. Currie’s on me,” said Dave smiling. We headed back towards our B&B along the seafront, knowing there was an Indian restaurant just round the corner. We were walking against the strong winds and the waves were crashing in just over the road to our right. Fortunately, the rain had stopped and looking up, we could see the bright flashing lights of the Pleasure Beach on the horizon. We didn’t speak much. It was a disappointing finish to a good weekend. I’d got my head down, avoiding the sand and grit that was occasionally being whipped into our squinting faces, when a piece of paper was blown up into my face and held there as if willing me to read it. I reluctantly pulled my hand out of my trouser pocket and grabbed the offending paper. As I pulled it away from my eyes and it came into focus, I could see it was some sort of advertising flyer. Not just any flyer though, this one had naked women decorating it. “Hey lads,” I said. “Stop and look at this.” As they gathered round, our backs turned against the wind, I read ...

... the content out loud. “Peppermint Elephant, gentleman’s club. Grand Opening June 27th. Free entry for up to four guests with this flyer throughout June and July. Open 8pm-3am Tuesday to Friday, 3pm-3am Saturday and Sunday. Come and see Blackpool’s finest ladies in all their naked glory.” “Whey hey!” said Dave. “Does it say where it is?” “It’s got a map on the back,” I said flipping it over. “Looks like it’s just past the Pleasure Beach.” “It’s miles,” moaned Ringo. “And my stomach’s crying out to be fed.” “Forget your stomach fat boy,” said Dave. “It’s only one mile, which is three or four quid tops, in a cab. Oi Oi Taxi!” he yelled across the street, never pausing for breath. “Plus it’s bl**dy free entry. Here we are.” The taxi pulled up and we were on our way. Ringo carried on moaning about his hunger and how they were all going to be ugly slappers with too much make-up on. We were still arguing and telling him to shut up as we entered the club. We all stopped talking at the same time as two scantily clad, stunning girls came into view. They were dancing and gyrating to loud music, on a stage less than twenty feet from where we were stood. “bl**dy hell,” drooled Ringo. “bl**dy hell indeed,” I added. “Would you gentlemen like a stage or table seat?” asked a waitress in a bunny girl outfit. We all looked round in surprise, not having noticed her approach us. “Stage,” I said quickly. She led us over to three great seats at the edge of the stage and took our drinks order. The ...