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Three girls, one bathroom. Saturday evening at 5.30. A better definition of carnage I have yet to see.
Miranda was in the shower, gouts of steam condensing on the mirror where Priya and I were battling for space. She was blow drying her hair while I was trying to apply my makeup, both of us kept having to break away at intervals to either clear some reflection space from the misted glass or to hastily reattach the towels that were all we had on, it seemed every time either of us lifted an elbow it moved our bodies under the folds and our tits fell out. You try applying eye liner or drying your hair without lifting your elbow above your shoulder, it’s not easy.
Not that we were worried about being naked around each other, the three of us had been sharing a flat for eight months now and shared clothes and underwear on a regular basis, well bras, not knickers, that would be too much. It was just that it was a Victorian house converted into flats,\ the landlord hadn’t bothered with insulation or central heating and it was cold, this being a late October Saturday in 2003 and Bristol isn’t a warm city at the best of times, the weather comes whipping in from the Irish sea bringing rain, snow, and in today’s instance, a damp biting wind that found it’s way in through all the gaps around the windows to reduce our home to a good environment for Penguins to nest.
I finished with the bright blue eye-liner and went on to a purple mist of eye shadow, catching my towel as it slipped again bringing my 34Cs out, the chill in the air setting my nipples upright. Priya laughed at my discomfort and pretended to hang the hairdryer on the nearest one, the stretch making her towel slip as well so we both ended up staring at each other in all our topless glory.
“Serves you right” I told her, hoisting my towel up again and shivering. I reached out and flicked her on the left boob, catching her nipple with my fingertip.
“Ow. You cow.” She laughed, giving it a quick rub. “If you’re done bugger off out and let me at the rest of the mirror.”
I strutted out in a parody of a catwalk model, stretching one arm above my head, clasping the other to my towel I gave a commentary “And here we see Nicola wearing the latest in evening slash bath-time wear from BHS, you’ll note the fluffy effect of the towel is counterbalanced by the wonderful smoothness of her home waxing job. We draw particular attention to the fact that she’s hotter than a vindaloo on Mercury with a stunning arse, and tits to die for.”
Miranda’s gentle Cork accent came out from behind the shower curtain “But ’tis a pity she has such short stumpy legs and a mouth like a Glasgow Docker. This Irish beauty is the one all the boys will be falling over themselves to get to know tonight.”
I turned, raising a middle finger. “Stumpy? Fuck off you bog trotting shite”
Laughter came back at me from the bathroom “But she’s right about that potty mouth of yours, girl.”
A rustling and thumping sound behind me let me know she was out of the shower so my decision to vacate was proving sound, the bathroom was small enough with two of us trying to use the mirror, three would be impossible.
I stood in my room and quickly pulled on my underwear, tonight was a night for big pants and thick tights, it was cold, and my comfort was more important to me than the unlikely instance of ending up in a situation where I was inviting someone to check out the contents of my clothes on a one to one basis. Besides which if anyone was fortunate enough to get my pants off on the first time of meeting then he’d better not be critical or that would be the end of the discussion and he could go home frustrated and alone. I’m not a cruel woman but I know what I want, and in this case I wanted to be warm. Also shagging on first meeting wasn’t really in my world.
The Etam bag was still on my bed, and I excitedly pulled out the dress I’d bought that afternoon in their sale. It wasn’t super special but it was new and Priya and Miranda hadn’t seen it yet so I would be getting a few jealous looks. It was a simple wrap style with a tie-back ending in a low hanging bow across my previously mentioned stunning arse. A low-cut cross over on the front allowed me to put some cleavage out there to prove my tits were in fact to die for. It was also three-quarter length so with my two inch heeled boots it helped disguise my short legs. Not stumpy. I’m five foot four which is above average for a girl, it’s not my fault I share a flat with a freak.
An hour later we were all ready, all dressed up and were tucking into the first of many cocktails in a soulless steel and glass former wool merchant’s warehouse. It had been gutted and refurbished but while they had filled it with all the trendy lighting and furniture, they’d forgotten to bring any atmosphere. Or human beings, so far we’d been approached by a selection of mouth breathers that seemed to think what we really needed to make our evenings complete was to hear some pathetic line about how much it must have hurt when we fell from illegal bahis heaven, or to remember their names, we’ll be screaming them later. Miranda may have a point about the Glasgow Docker.
Priya snapped open her purse “What do you say. Girls? One more here then move on?”
That led to a discussion of where to go and whether it was better to wait where we were in the hopes it filled up with something more interesting than the under nineteen all Bristol losers contest because at least we had seats. Rock paper scissors and we were out of there.
Priya and I tried to hide behind Miranda on the way to the next bar, she’s five eight and with her duffle coat didn’t look as slim as she actually is so she made a perfect wind break. It didn’t help that we’d both worn something thinner and prettier than her big, warm sensible coat and were shivering already. The only route open to us was ridicule, we dropped into appallingly bad Irish accents “Did your Mammy dress you Miranda?” “Oh sure and be careful Miranda there’s a terrible wind, so there is. Mind you dress up warm.”
Turns out I’m not the only one with a potty mouth.
Laughing, we fell into a big wood, copper, and brass pub, it was warm so seemed a good place to stay, we found a free table in an alcove and staked our claim. There was a band on a small stage in the corner playing Oasis and Blur covers, they were pretty good as pub bands go without being stupidly loud and gave the place a nice vibe.
I took my coat off and adjusted my dress that had twisted slightly, giving me the appearance of only having one boob. Quick shimmy and a shake later and I had my cleavage back. Miranda reached across and stuck her hands on them, I mean there’s cold and there’s fucking freezing. Her fingers were definitely closer to the freezing end of the scale. Then she grabbed my hands and held them to her chest.
“Fuck are you doing Miranda?” I asked, trying to pull away.
“Now feel your own” she told me.
I’d had two cocktails already and shared a bottle of wine before we went out, so it didn’t seem such a bizarre request and I tucked my hands in between my tits (which were still to die for).
“What now” I asked.
Miranda leaned over and poked me in the breast. “Cold Tits.” Then poked herself “Warm Tits. Don’t be takin’ the piss out of my coat. There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong coat. Now go and put them to good use and see if you can’t catch us some firemen.”
Shocked, but giggling insanely I wandered across to the bar, turning to face back to the table I breathed in and arched my back, pushing out and up, getting a big thumbs up from my friends.
Annoyingly someone at the bar had the same dress as me, except of course I looked better in it, what with my stunning arse and everything. She was wearing fishnets as well which always reek of desperation in my eyes, and she’d done a really shitty job of shaving her legs. And she was enormous.
Feeling pretty good about myself and my judgemental ways I wormed my way to the bar and stood trying to attract some attention. Cleavage front and centre I leaned so far forward I was in danger of hitting my nose on the counter, eventually it either worked, or it was my turn, and I put in my order for three long island iced teas.
“D’you want two or six?” asked the harassed looking barman. Confused I repeated the order for three.
“It’s happy hour. Two for one. If you order three, I’ll give you six, if you order two, I’ll give you four.”
A lairy voce beside me piped in “And if you’re a good girl I’ll give you one” a ripple of laddish laughter followed up.
I told the barman I’d have two, so four, then turned to the comedian, a skinny lad of around my age wearing a Chelsea shirt. I looked him up and down while he stared at my cleavage.
“Oi. Up here” I snapped my fingers at eye level. “Generous as your offer was, I’ve just been served. If only you’d asked earlier, I had a spare twenty seconds, because I’m sure that’s all you’d need. Now, fuck off.”
While his mates laughed at his embarrassment I turned, picked up my drinks and bumped into the big girl wearing the same dress. Jeez she was solid. I apologised and started making my way back, when another bloke tried a different line. “Isn’t it embarrassing when you turn up in the same outfit?” Without turning my head, I kept going on my route back to the table saying something about how it was a free country and lots of people probably had the same dress.
“Yes, but you look so much better in it than me.” Same voice. Man’s voice. Stop.
I turned my head, there leaning against the bar was…well I’m not entirely certain what it was.
It was tall. Taller than Miranda. Over six feet in her..his…their heels. Heels that were only about an inch but seemed to be giving the owner some grief. Fishnets over big chunky muscular calves disappeared under the three-quarter length dress. Moving up there was the same cross over top but unlike my own tits to die for this one had what looked like plastic fake comedy illegal bahis siteleri norks underneath giving a cleavage like a dead heat in a hot air balloon race. Fingers snapped “Oi up here.”
I looked up at the face, it was a smiling friendly looking face with firm jaw and sparkling blue eyes under a really cheap and nasty blonde wig. Badly applied lipstick and big costume clip on earrings completed the look, if you can call it a look.
I gave a slightly nervous nod of my head, “Yeah, I’d like to think so. Look, I really need to get back to my friends.” On a weird impulse I handed him — her the spare cocktail. “I’m Nicola.”
A massive hand on the end of a branch like arm came out and took it, “Thank you Nicola, I’m Chris.”
I turned, flustered by the meeting and ran back to our table.
Priya had been watching, “well, are they coming over?”
“What? Who” I genuinely didn’t have a clue what she was going on about.
“Those lads in the Chelsea gear, there’s three of them. Go get them girl.”
I gave her a synopsis of my conversation with the lads and concluded with a description of the climactic conditions that would be required in the underworld before I wanted to get them over to join us. Besides which I wanted to get judgey about the man woman transvestite whatever it was that I’d spoken to.
I shuffled round so I could see the bar and pointed, I like to think in a subtle way, but I spotted Chris spot me and lift his cocktail in salute. Looking to Miranda and Priya for support I hissed “Well, what the fuckity fuck is it? I mean, it’s a bloke in a dress. What, I mean why, what..who?” I ran out of words quite quickly.
Miranda pointed over to the bar area beside Chris, there were at least a dozen of them.
She speculated “Maybe it’s the Bristol round of Britain’s got talent and they’re a Spice Girls Tribute act?”
I was not impressed with her deductive skills.
Priya bent over as if she was trying to hide under the table. “Shit, they’re coming over. Quick. Coats, we’re leaving. I don’t want to get in some freaky transvestite Kylie Minogue fest.”
Too late. Chris and two others equally big and equally bizarrely kitted out were there with six long island iced teas.
“We’ve um got a round in, would you mind if we joined you?”
Priya and I are both English so our embarrassment and good manners made us say “No, of course not, please join us” before Miranda’s Irish candour could get going with “No. Feck off, ya freaks”
They sat. We talked. No one mentioned the elephant in the room.
They were actually really fun to be around, smart, interesting, well read. We had the “what do you all do” conversation, Miranda’s a nurse at Bristol Royal Infirmary but usually makes something up when she tells blokes what she does, being one she doesn’t get the sexy image. I suppose when your day is filled with bedpans and infected wounds it’s hard to see it as horny, tonight she was pretending to be an illustrator for technical manuals.
I tried to gloss over my job in the reporting team for Independent News Radio, being a reporter sounds all Woodward and Bernstein, but in reality there’s rather more talking to people outraged by something totally normal or digging into local council reviews of speed limits and visibility.
Priya works as a civilian employee for the police, something to do with records and research but she doesn’t talk about it much and usually, like tonight, just says she’s a civil servant.
Chris was into IT, he’d just started his own business and was working hard to build it up. Matt was an accountant but was thinking of giving it up because he hated it and Simon was a junior doctor at Bristol Royal Infirmary.
The elephant came out when Priya asked how they all knew each other.
Chris was straight in with “We play Rugby together.” Which made Miranda laugh out loud.
“Rugby. I shoulda bloody well guessed it. You’re not a Spice Girls tribute act, are you? You’re not a bunch of trannies on the lash, you’re a bunch of Rugby Players thinking you’re being ironic. God give me strength. Come here you.” With that last she grabbed a shocked looking Simon and shoved her tongue into his mouth.
Give him his due, he didn’t stay shocked for long and the two of them rolled into a corner and seemed set in for the duration.
It was close to ten by now and a couple of the rest of the team came over to let our three know they were heading on to Dockers, a night club by the waterfront. Chris asked me if I wanted to go with him, which seemed like quite a good idea at the time. Miranda and Simon said they wouldn’t and would catch up with us all some time later. Miranda made a point of waving her keys at me and asked if I had five one-pound coins. The Condom machine in the ladies took five one-pound coins so either Simon was in for a fun evening and Miranda was being sensible or she wanted to make a long distance phone call.
Priya came with us, she and Matt seemed to be getting on as well as Chris and I were. We chatted canlı bahis siteleri on the walk, Chris had a big barbour jacket which he wrapped around the two of us. I couldn’t get over how big he was, not just big, solid in a caravan stuffed full of broken concrete kind of way. I felt instinctively safe shielded by his enormous arms as I hugged into him under his coat. Chris was something called a Flanker, he preferred Openside but had gone Blind for the game today. Matt was a lock, although sometimes he was called second row and Simon was apparently a girl, He stood off things and kicked a lot. I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but I had a feeling I was going to have to learn about Rugby.
Priya asked if they knew Jonny Wilkinson, impressing me that she had at least heard of a rugby player which was more than I had. Jonah someone was in the back of my mind, but I didn’t say anything.
At two AM I called it a night, Priya had already disappeared, as had Matt. Chris and I walked slowly up towards the city, he lived about a mile from me so it made perfect sense to walk together. His flat was the closest, so it made perfect sense to go in to get out of the cold for a hot drink.
It made equally perfect sense for him to want to get out of the fishnets and wig and to jump in the shower. I made some tea while I waited, my head churning. I was in a strange man’s house at two thirty in the morning and no one knew where I was, but I didn’t feel worried. Part of me thought I might never feel worried again.
I reached a decision, searching in the cupboard under the sink I found what I was after.
Chris came back into the kitchen in a big blue towelling dressing gown, I passed him a mug of tea, pulling my coat tightly around myself.
“I can hang that up if you like, I’ve put the heating back on.”
Oooh heating. He knows the way to a girl’s heart.
I thanked him. Standing up, and facing away, I let the coat slip off my shoulders, wondering how long it would take him to notice.
“Mmm Lovely cup of tea.” He was saying, except he got as far “cup” when he realised I was holding my coat around my waist facing away from him, and apart from my boots that was all I was wearing.
The rest of my clothes were in the Tesco bag I’d found under the sink. It also solved the big pants issue as well.
I heard a clatter as a mug slammed down on the table.
I felt rather than saw a dressing gown spread out on the same table.
I felt two hands on my shoulders as I turned to face him, letting the coat sit on the back of the nearest chair.
His hands were on my breasts, rolling the nipples and mashing them together.
I reached down and grabbed his growing cock, kneeling slowly until it was on eye level with me. It was quite large, and it wasn’t ready to go yet.
Worried it might get too big to do this next bit I opened my mouth and drew him into the warmth and wetness within. I pushed up with my tongue, lapping on the bottom of his shaft, feeling the ridges getting harder in the back of my throat. I started to move my head in and out in a steady motion, dribbling out around the sides of his cock where it was stretching my mouth.
God it was big, I mean not porn star, unfeasibly big but long enough that I could get two hands around it and still fit some in my mouth and fat enough that I could barely move my tongue once he was past my teeth. Gagging slightly, I took my head away and puffed.
“I suppose this would be a good time to check you haven’t got a girlfriend” I asked with a wink.
“No, single. You?”
“Unattached for over a year.Mmmmm” I had my mouth back over him and my eyes closed as I sucked. I lowered a hand to my dampening pussy, I hadn’t been planning on getting this close to anyone so it was covered in short wiry black hair, slipping through the undergrowth I brought two fingers to play with my rock hard, swollen clit, shivering as a spasm of pleasure rippled through me.
He was growing too big now, my jaw was beginning to ache, and I was drooling uncontrollably over my fist. Taking him out I leaned back and gripped him in my cleavage, pushing on each side of my breasts to make a soft, firm pillow and rubbed, staring up into his eyes so he could see the passion and lust in mine.
His breath came faster and shorter,” Stop,no, I’m….No Don’t stop”
I had no intention of stopping. He sent a jet of sticky cum up between my tits, hitting me under my chin, the second jet I had his head buried deep in my cleavage, I felt the warmth spreading across my chest. A third jet spurted but the pressure was down, and it barely reached the top of my tits.
Chris looked down at me, reached across the small kitchen to the sink and passed me a tea towel.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that” he looked disappointed.
I wiped myself clean and gave him my sultriest look “I’ll accept your apology if you’re only good for once a night. I was hoping for at least another one and then one on the morning as well.”
His eyes lit up, giving me a little jump inside. I wasn’t a first night sex type of girl usually, well ever really, but when you’ve found the person you want to fuck to the exclusion of all others for the rest of your life you may as well get started as soon as possible.
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