Magic Wanda - Sex Stories

Magic Wanda

... need to do any ironing tonight!” They fell into each other before reaching the pub door, still chuckling away along with a few bemused passers by. “Very bl**dy funny,” I said retrieving my flattened belongings from the middle of the road. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be my weekend. I couldn’t have been more wrong. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * We went a bit crazy that afternoon. We didn’t check in to our bed and breakfast until about six o’clock, which totalled over six hours drinking since opening those first cans on the train. We were a little inebriated and loud to say the least as we approached ‘Jaycee’s Bed & Breakfast’ and I was a bit worried we’d be turned away. We somehow held it together as we paid our money and scrawled down our details for the smiling Chinese lady. It wasn’t exactly the most salubrious of places. The hall was dark and dowdy, the middle of the stair carpet was virtually worn out and there was awful sixties style wallpaper hanging off the walls. Still, at f******n quid a night each, we weren’t complaining. We zigzagged up two flights of stairs to our room and it took me a few seconds to fiddle the key into the Yale lock before a small click told us I’d cracked it. That was the signal for Ringo to surge forward from the back. The three of us burst through the door and our momentum catapulted us forward until we ended up in a big pile on the floor. “bl**dy hell, get off me you fat biffers!” I screamed, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle ...

... out from under their giggling frames. “Come on, come on, I’m having trouble breathing here.” “Ace!” said Ringo still sprawled on top. He reluctantly got to his feet and I pushed Dave from on top of me, glad to at last get some air to my lungs. Ringo was still all cock-a-hoop and full of energy. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back out there and get some skirt!” “Get some skirt?” said Dave sarcastically. “You wouldn’t be able to get any skirt if it came up to you and flashed you its panties! You’re both bl**dy useless with women.” I wasn’t standing for that slur. I could have gone for the cheap shot and mentioned Nina, but I thought better of it and did the next most stupid thing. “Okay lover boy,” I started. “Put your bl**dy money where your mouth is. If you’re so confident, me and Ringo versus you.” “Yeah,” supported Ringo. “Twenty a man. You win Dave, and we’ll give you forty quid. We beat you, and it’s twenty a piece for me and Ricky boy.” “Easy money,” replied Dave smiling to himself. “How do we decide who wins? We need some sort of scoring system.” “Let’s keep it simple,” I suggested. “Fifteen points if you spend the night with a girl, ten if you get a snog and five bonus points for any phone numbers handed over willingly. Highest points total wins.” “Lads, are you sure you want to throw your money away like this. Going on track records, you may as well pay me already,” said Dave smugly. “We’ll see big mouth,” scoffed Ringo. “Are we all agreed then?” I asked. “Yep,” said ...