Magic Wanda - Sex Stories

Magic Wanda

... Dave. “Partner?” I asked nodding at Ringo. “Too right,” he replied. “In that case,” I said, “let battle commence.” “Right, forty minutes to get ready then?” said Ringo. “Forty minutes? Forty minutes?” repeated Dave. “You two could spend ‘til Christmas putting your make-up and perfume on and you’d still look as appealing as a Baboon’s back-side!” “Get him!” shouted Ringo at the top of his voice. He quickly grabbed a pillow off the nearest bed and swung it at Dave’s head. It connected beautifully. There wasn’t much contest in the fight that ensued as we beat Dave to surrender with our relentless bombardment. The real competition was about to begin. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * That night proved to be a disappointing wash out. We started out with a pizza to line our stomachs for the alcoholic onslaught to come, but the food only seemed to dampen our spirits, and sober us up just enough so that we were beginning to develop headaches from our earlier session. By the time I’d got the drinks in at the second pub of the night, Dave was almost falling asl**p. To be honest, I wasn’t far behind him. We called it a night after that. Points total, zero, for both teams. For all our bravado earlier, we were tucked up in bed, like three babies, before ten o’clock. We all woke feeling pretty good the next day but we decided to stay off the beer until after our evening meal. The sun shone continuously, we did the whole seaside thing and had a great day. We started with football ...

... on the beach and then went to the famous pleasure beach and rode the hair-raising ‘Big One’ roller-coaster. After a fish and chips lunch we played several fairground games, almost killed one another on the dodgems and finished the day off by winning a little Casio keyboard playing bingo. Predictably, we plink-plonked our way back to Jaycee’s, singing nonsense words to truly awful ‘music’. With our spirits raised once again, Dave had seemingly forgotten all about the events of a week or so ago. I had thought his little speech on the train was a bit of a front, but he genuinely seemed to be having a good time, and carrying on as normal. It was good to see. He was my best mate and it had been horrible to see how deflated he had been. That Saturday night, we hit our first bar at about nine o’clock. The place was packed full and it took us a good fifteen minutes to get served. We got two rounds in at once and because it was so hot in there, the six bottles of Budweiser were gone in under twenty minutes. Next, we walked down a side street to find somewhere a bit quieter. We plumped for ‘The Golden Fleece’ but it was like one of those places you see in old western movies when strangers walk in and everyone stops talking and turns round to stare at you. Once served, we knocked back our drinks and moved on, keeping our heads down, not daring to look at anyone. Trust us to find a real local’s bar in a buzzing seaside town full of holiday makers. We headed back to the main drag and the ...