Results
The time was 4.42pm, when they were ready to roll. “He’s here, dad,” he said, as he saw a taxi reverse into the driveway. Carefully, they both carried a couple of containers out of the kitchen. He locked the door, putting a key under the mat….just in case everyone was out when they returned. Alas, they’d presently no pockets in which to store it. “Hello again, Wok….” he said as they climbed into the back seats, “….ahhh….thanks for being so circumspect….ahhh….since we’re essentially Driving Dubiously Dressed.”
The car moved forward, and into ACACIA AVENUE. “Where to, guv’nors?” he asked, “somewhere seedy and suspect, I suppose?” Indeed. “We want № 7 ALSATIAN ALLEY,” he replied, “on the Really Rough estate.” They turned onto the main road, and headed towards town. “Mad Madam Min’s?” he suggested sourly. “Yes,” he replied, “we’re meeting Minette and Primula in order to give them dinner.” The taxi driver glanced in his rear mirror with what amounted to degree level doubt. “But presumably with what-ho….well, on the menu afterwards?” he probed. “No,” he replied, “since they both have quality clients booked for seven o’clock.”
There was a long silence until the reached the HIGH STREET. “I see the old war wounds are giving trouble again, guv’nors,” he said knowingly, “but what’s with the pink bowties and high heels?” He gestured towards Georgie Boy. “This is the Naked waiter wear,” he explained, “a slight misnomer, but not enough to make much difference. Needless to say, we’ll be spanked and swished soundly for shoddy service. It’s all very endearing….and engagingly erotic entertainment. I can commend it, if you’ve never tried it with a Tart….so to speak.”
The shops finally finished, and then they were out again in the suburban streets. “Any idea who might be able to able to give a novice a go?” he asked. “My good Lady Wife would be happy to help,” said George Shagton, “which is simply for starters….again, so to speak. Since she’s a slut, she’ll subsequently screw you….” he sniggered, “….I know you’ve been laying the luscious Lynda, so it’s a case of like Mother like daughter. You have our phone number, so give her a call.” He winked once. “Thanks guv,” he said, “you’re a real toff.” Not to mention cuckold. Now they were entering the Really Rough estate, and as always it certainly showed from the state of the houses. Several minutes later they reach SENSATIONALLY, as it was known….owing to the large number of practicing prostitutes located along its length.
They stopped outside № 7, picked up the catering cartons, and climbed out. “Until later, Wok,” he said, as the taxi started away quickly….before someone stole its wheels. They strutted up the untidy front garden, a hallmark of the street, and reached the shabby front door….DING DONG.
Several seconds later, it opened to reveal Minette Madeira, dressed as a Trinians Tart. As a large and luscious lovely Lady, it was perfectly possible she couldn’t quite fit into her previous school uniform….whatever it might have been? “Step inside, bad boys,” she said invitingly, “Primula’s present, and we’re ready and waiting to begin in the lounge….” she closed the door behind them, “….we thought you’d both like us dressed like this….” quite correct, “….although I never kept any of my school stuff. A bad decision, since you’d be amazed at how many calling clients like to screw schoolgirl sluts….” maybe not? “….can you kindly carry the cartons into the kitchen, so you can sort it all out.”
They followed her through the hallway. “Which school did you actually attend, Min?” he asked. “It was St Dominics, Shagger,” she replied, “an all-girls school, known inevitably as St Dommes. As you might expect, the uniform colour was black….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped, from a Sexist Smack, “….one for you too, Georgie Boy….” SMACKKK “….Oww,” he repeated, “….since you have equally neat little bottoms. They’re both simply Asking for the cane….” so at least another two dollars, “….be assured we’ll be expecting impeccable attention. Any substandard service will be spanked and swished.”
She winked once, wiggled her waist fetchingly, and strutted out of the room. “It’s the second time in a week I’ve been treated to Trinians Tarts, dad….” he said, decanting the stew and poached pumpkins into separate tureens, “….since the Misses Ebenella Yvonne Edith Scranthorpe and Hawthorn Agnes Guillam role-play them. Eyes and Hag help out Strict Sarah, as I discovered on Departure Day.” He put the food into the already hot oven, and added four dinner plates. “There’s white and red wine uncorked, Davy,” he said, “shall we take one each and show ourselves off to our Hostesses? Best take a towel under an arm.”
He nodded, as they each picked one up, together with a bottle, and strutted back to the lounge. Inside it was as advertised, with two standing sinful schoolgirls dressed in Trinians togs….rolled up skirts with the Tart’s Trademark. As for the rest, they were the proverbial disgrace to the uniform. Both ties were loose, blouses with buttons undone, and much makeup. “Good evening, Mesdames,” he said politely, “please allow us to seat you, and we’ll make a start with some wine.” They moved into place, and they each shifted the chairs forward to the table. It had been immaculately laid out, complete with candles lit, with the inclusion of a sturdy slipper and stout stick.
“White or red, Mesdames?” he asked. “Red please, waiter,” muttered Mad Madam Min, and his philandering father offered her a taster. She acquiesced, and he poured out a full glass. “White please,” said Prim And Proper….something which she most definitely wasn’t at this moment. “This isn’t chilled, waiter,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she sipped it, “….which is what white wine should be. Bend over at once….” she could always have put it into the fridge herself? “….with another whack for attempting to transfer the blame….” so HER apparent mind reading abilities were also working well, “….you can take all our posterior punishments with the Rapid Responses.” Which were rather rare, but at least there’d be no need for a cut count, any affirmations of appreciation or some suitable salutation.
“So sorry, Madame,” he said, adopting the Position….Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW….” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW,” he gasped. “I like the look of his hit hiney in high heels, Primula,” said Mad Madam Min. “They help to balance the body further forward,” she replied, “for an acuter angle of attack….and so much sexier. Is it any wonder so many mere males harbour filthy fantasies for flogged floozies dressed as schoolgirls? But pour my glass anyway, and I’ll manage….” he arose, and filled it for her. “Bottoms Up, Min….which is the St Sticks’ official toast.” Chinkk they went. “Bottoms up indeed, Primula,” she said, “can we have some starters?” They strutted out of the room.
“I’m sorry you drew the short straw, Davy,” he said as they reached the kitchen. “You’ll still suffer some stick,” he replied sourly, as they prepared four plates of prawn cocktail. “You do them, dad,” he suggested, “since I’m sure they’ll find fault. There was a neat nod, and he strutted out of the kitchen. He stirred the stew in readiness, and poured out two portions for themselves. As he started to eat his own prawns, he could hear sounds of a swished and spanked seat from the lounge….so someone was satisfied. He’d stay standing, rather than any attempt to sit down.
Then his philandering father returned, wearing a wide smile. “It was six sound spanks from Madam Min, Davy,” he said happily, “and two stingers from Primula.” He wouldn’t worry with the whys, as he finished his first course, and waited whilst his paternal parent did the same. “Take the tureen, Davy,” he said, “and I’ll bring their hot plates.” Together, they strutted into the lounge. “We have best beef stew….” he announced, setting it down whilst the new crockery was placed ready. He ladled it out carefully, “….Mesdames have two dumplings each, dad….” he announced with delicious ambiguity….SLAPP “….Ahh….” SLAPP “….Ahh,” he gasped as they each slapped his face.
“Bend over this instant, waiter,” said Primula Proffer, stroking her chest, “and there I was, thinking you were a bums boy.” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW….” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW,” he gasped. “Such cheek,” she said sternly, “well, cheeks, anyway.” He arose, and together they strutted back into the kitchen. “Well done, Davy,” he said, “very witty….I was going to say something similar.” Together, they started on their own stew. “You can do a double entendre on the dessert, dad,” he said darkly.
His philandering father had finished first, so he’d gone to collect the plates, and refill their glasses. From the subsequent sounds of swishing and slippering, he hadn’t exactly excelled himself. “Somehow I succeeded in spilling both wines, Davy….” he said with a wide smile, as he opened the oven, and removed the remaining dishes, “….can you kindly bring the coffee and hot milk jugs?” He nodded, as together they strutted back into the lounge. “Davy did the desserts, Mesdames,” he said, setting them down, “and you both have perfect pumpkins….” SLAPP “….Ahh….” SLAPP “….Ahh,” he gasped. “Another blasted boobs boy,” growled Madam Min, “I’ll do him this time.” George Shagton assumed the Position, and she picked up her slipper….SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….ohh,” he added as she fondled his fanny. “Definitely a derrière deserving discipline,” she muttered.
“White, black or half and half, Mesdames? he enquired. “Sixdy-sixdy for me, waiter,” said Primula Proffer, “unlike my disciplinary disposition, which edges eighdy to fordy in the direction of Domination.” Something he’d never known. “White, waiter,” said Minette Madeira. “Oops,” he said, spilling some milk onto the tablecloth. “Can’t get the staff,” she replied, “bend over at once.” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….ohh,” he added as HIS hiney was handled. “Leave us be,” she said, “and you can go off duty after tidying the kitchen.” They both bowed, and strutted out.
It was a further fifteen minutes before they’d eaten their own poached pumpkins. Alas, they’d only had water to drink, but such was life below stairs, so to speak. Then they’d stacked the dishwasher, flattened the cartons and disposed of the débris into the dustbin. Finally, they hung up their towels tidily for the last time, and strutted back into the lounge. “Thank you for a wonderful romantic candle-lit dinner,” said Minette Madeira, as they both arose, “obviously I’d like to have you both on my client base, but I accept you’re not exactly short of slit. However, we’d like to give you both a quid pro quo you’ll appreciate….” a Reciprocal Exchange, “….you’re aware we both have bookings for later….” as he’d advised Wok Peace, “….so follow us.”
They did so, through a door into what was clearly an integral garage, the same as Primula Proffer’s pad at № 9. Sensible….since with the number of car thieves on the estate, anything of value left unattended wouldn’t last long. “Hand me your shoes and bowties….” she said, opening the trunk of the swish saloon. They did so, and she stowed them safely, “….here’s something else to wear….” she gave them each a black Lee van Cleef cloak, which they put on, “….now it’s a black balaclava for Flasher Fred….Sir….” he supposed the salutation was since he was now wearing black, “….plus a prepared pair of Primula’s panties for Panty Pervert Pete.” Uh..huh….they were of her trademark leopard-skin motif. “Uhhh,” he moaned, slipping them over his nose, and inhaling her choice cunt scent. “You can keep them, Sir,” said Prim And Proper, “as suitable souvenirs.” The two Trinians Tarts took the front seats, with Mad Madam Min doing the driving.
“Ahhh….ahhh,” gasped both bad boys as they sat down in the back. Minette Madeira pressed a button on the dashboard, and the electrically operated garage door rolled open. Then she started the car, and reversed out onto the road. As they headed along ALSATIAN ALLEY, he glanced backwards to see the door closing again. “Where are we headed?” he enquired, his voice mildly muffled by the material. “To your old stamping grounds, Sir,” she replied as they reached the main road, “the Letchhampton Lido. You can be the scourge of some saintly schoolgirls….well, saucy ones, anyway.” Suddenly he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, normally associated with impending doom, as they continued at some speed. Surely they were doing well in excess of the regulation 40mph?
Hadn’t his philandering father always warned him about fast floozies in fast cars? Alas he hadn’t, although perhaps he ought to have done so? “Did you decide to rent out your house, Primula?” he asked, trying to move his mind onto other matters. “Sort of, Sir,” she replied, “it’s actually an amicable arrangement with Miss Thrash. She rents it fully furnished, for her exclusive use during term time. During the holidays, we can each use it for our own clients, although I can still sleep in my own bedroom. So I’m having the house for three hours this evening, with one of my previous prime paying punters. He was more than mildly miffed about my withdrawal from the scene. He calls himself Eric Entwhistle, obviously not his real name, and is filthy rich.”
He had a sudden memory. “Heric Hentwhistle hov Heast ’am,” he said, “actually Sir Charles Wealdstone….” she gasped, “….and no, you never told me. I once saw him doing Rotary Redemption in the Publyc Dyſplay at the Tanningtowne Toweren. It’s essentially the same as those sordid shop windows in Amsterdam, whereby one can have huge helpings of humiliation by a passing public. His identity had been rumbled on a previous occasion when he’d been left in bed bondage. A chambermaid found his true name from clothing tags….” he paused, “….obviously his sinful secrets are safe with me….and I assume us all?” There were three nods of obvious agreement.
Several minutes later, they turned into LETTSBY AVENUE, passing the Police Station. Very soon they reached the public park, and parked at the Pavilion. “We’ll go on ahead, Sirs,” said Primula Proffer, “and select a seat….well away from anyone else. Perhaps you’d care to follow us down to the pond in a couple of minutes. Always assuming the coast’s clear, you can approach our bench, and bare your all. Then drop your cloaks….and do your worst with wavering willies.” They climbed out of the car. “I’ll leave it unlocked,” said Mad Madam Min, “since Sirs should be back first.” She mouthed them a kiss, as they wiggled away.
“I’m not entirely happy about this, dad,” he said whilst they waited, “since Inspector Sceptre definitely said the whole area by the pond’s completely covered by CCTV.” Georgie Boy simply shrugged. “Nothing happened yesterday, did it Davy?” he countered, “so hopefully the system’s down….or something. But we wouldn’t want our wanton wicked wenches to think we were wets and weeds, so we’d both better….well, grin and bare it.” What wonderful wit. “All right, dad,” he said as they emerged from the car, and shut the doors, “it’ll be our first, and possibly only, joint performance. I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to stand starkers and stroke a straining shaft at some sexy schoolgirls in a public place.” There was a wide wink. “Me too, Davy,” he said, as they continued across the car park, “like father like son.”
Then with his heart thumping, they padded down to the pond. Fortunately the whole area was deserted….apart from their intended victims. They sidled up to the two Trinians Tarts, sitting chatting so demurely, and stood ready in the Position For Pain. It was with their legs spread, both knees bent and leaning backwards slightly. “Panty Pervert Pete packs a pulsing penis….” he said, throwing open his cloak, “….Flasher Fred’s phallus for fucking floozies,” his philandering father added, as he did the same. Interesting….since he’d not known what wicked words were used in such sordid circumstances….FLASHH went a sudden camera held in Primula Proffer’s hand. Oops….since this would be yet more damning evidence, if this all went horribly wrong.
“Cloaks off completely, critters,” she said softly, “and start stroking your shafts….” they stared at each other for a long second, “….detail your deficiencies….” Oo..er, yes MA’AM, “….and disgusting deviances,” added Mad Madam Min with a wide smile, “and don’t forget to stretch your scrotums.” Most definitely. “Perhaps you should show us a little of what YOU’VE got?” he suggested as they stood starkers, and both professional prostitutes readily obliged by lifting their skirts. Now they’d be Staring At Slits, in addition to all their other sins. OMG….it was incorrigible exhibitionism of the very worst kind, and he thrilled to it. “We want to fuck floozies….UHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, tugging tool and testicles together, “….screw schoolgirl sluts….UHHH….AHHH….” put in his paternal parent, “….we want cunt….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….we can’t get cunt….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….we’re wanker boys….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….sex-pests and public per..UHHH..verts....AHHH.” Much more of this, and they’d both be spunking.
PEEP PEEP….he heard a Police whistle from the direction of the Pavilion. “Lumme, it’s the local law….” muttered Prim And Proper, “….scram, studs….” added Mad Madam Min as they could now see three burly Police Officers huffing hard towards them, “….see you in church.” Quickly, they collected the cloaks and bolted like frightened rabbits, scooping them over their shoulders. “Head ’em off….huhh….lads,” he heard a Copper calling out to his colleagues, “you’re both younger and fitter than me….huhh….I’ll comfort the two Trinians Tarts….huhh….I mean….huhh….innocent young Ladies.” Sure enough, only two of them remained in hot pursuit.
This was clearly a time to be grateful for all Ava Frasch’s kind assistance over the past term in keeping him fit. “Huhh….huhh,” he huffed. Then his Guardian Angel wagged an ephemeral finger at him, and reminded how he’d cheated terribly during his cross-country runs. Had he completed the courses correctly, might he now be better placed? Hopefully his philandering father was in reasonable condition too? This was something they’d both find out the hard way….and in only a matter of seconds.
Very soon, they reached the woods. “Follow me….huhh….Davy,” he huffed, “this is where we play cops and robbers….huhh….in a copse….” what wit, as they….well, hared along the woodland path. Then he pointed suddenly, “….just ahead to the right, there’s a dense clump of rhododendrons….huhh….with a hidey-hole in the centre….huhh….back yourself inwards after me….huhh….quick as you can….huhh….rearrange the foliage behind you….huhh….we’ll be well-nigh invisible anyway….huhh….but in our black cloaks completely so….huhh….” he watched whilst his father faded out of sight, and then followed. Inside, there was indeed a small space, just large enough for perhaps three people, “….crouch, and bunch up your legs beneath you….huhh….stay completely quiet….huhh….and don’t move a mus….huhl….as we might well be here a while.” There was no doubt about it being an excellent hideout….one he’d not known existed.
Only a minute or so later, the two Officers arrived somewhere on the scene. “I’ve a stitch….huhh....Cyril,” complained one. “You always do….huhh….Arnie,” wheezed the other, “Stitcher by name and nature….huhh.” There was an infuriated threshing around, sounding alarmingly close, but which might easily have been twenty yards away. “Sod them, Cyril,” said the first, “they’ve gone to ground….huhh….heaven knows where….huhh….it’ll be dark soon….huhh….and they’ll be long gone by morning….huhh,” his voice rose, “….show yourselves, Panty Per….huhh….vert Pete and Flasher….huhh….Fred.” He cowered quietly, wishing he might wake up and discover it had all been a bad dream? He could hear bracken being broken and bushes beaten, but with complete camouflage inside the copse, their safety was assured. “We’ll have to give it up as a bad job, Arnie,” said the second at some length, “let’s go back and see how Lenny’s doing with the dollies.”
Then everything went quiet, however they waited what must have been a further five minutes before venturing out. Carefully, they continued along the length of the woodland, in order to avoid approaching anywhere near the public pond. “I was impressed with your stamina, Davy,” he said, “when doing the dash. Have A Thrash commented to me about how all her Curricular Correction Classes on the Prefects Placement Programme had helped.” With half a term’s worth of PT and Games lessons. “What about you, dad?” he asked, “seemingly surprisingly fit for someone with such a sedentary lifestyle.”
There was a slight smile. “You’re aware Ava’s one of my many Mistresses, Davy….?” he nodded, “….and she really puts me through my paces, prior to poking….” ohh, “….I’ve suffered several sessions in The Box Room with her at The Styx….” like him, “….in addition to her dratted Prefects PT Club in The Gymnasium. I’ve always had a view about all PT teachers being card-carrying sadists….” most definitely, “….and she matches the mould in every respect. Still, one can’t complain about her cute cunt, and she’s so lean, lithe and luscious.” Completely correct in every respect….in addition to her particular penchant for married men.
Finally, they reached LETTSBY AVENUE, and padded back to the Pavilion. In the middle distance, he could see all three Officers standing by his bench with the two Trinians Tarts, clearly making notes. “I’ll call for a taxi, dad….” he said, as they approached the telephone box by the building, “….it’s a freephone, which is fortunate as we’re not carrying any cash.” They both crowded inside, and his paternal parent licked his lips. “Isn’t there the minor matter of more money for the fares, Davy?” he asked. “No, dad….” he replied, dialling 0800 200069, “….I’ve already paid for two trips….when I returned home on Departure Day last week. It seemed prudent at the time, and has certainly worked out well.”
There was a neat nod. “Sound thinking, Davy,” he said, “I’d have mentioned it earlier, dad,” he explained, “when we arrived at Mad Madam Min’s, but had other things on my mind.” He waited several seconds. “Central Despatch,” said a villain’s voice. “Can we have Wok Peace to the Pavilion soonest possible, please?” he asked, “and it’s priority prepaid.” There was a short silence. “He’s presently in the rank at the railway station, Sir,” he said, “so should be with you shortly.” Which was a real relief, as he held the handset in his hand. “It isn’t the first time this has happened to me, Davy,” said his dastardly dad, “so I suppose I should follow my own best advice about thin dividing lines….et hoc genus omne….” And All That Sort Of Thing, “….but both your Mother and Fi have a horrid habit of shoving me out starkers onto the street.”
He nodded. “June Misselthrush,” he replied, “once told me how you’d called at Flower Power wearing nothing but a small sliver of sackcloth over sensitive spots….” he paused, “….she was mildly miffed you didn’t make a play for her, since she could still see your….well, interest.” There was a wide wink. “I remember it well, Davy,” he replied, “and recall thinking how she’d make an excellent Miss Thrash. Which she does, I might add, as my derrière’s since discovered….although not as a paying punter.” He’d wondered whether she’d ended up as one of his many Mistresses after all, and it appeared to be the case. “I suggest we stay put until Wok arrives, dad,” he said, “when we can repatriate these cloaks and masks into Min’s car, and also reclaim our bowties and high heels. Meantime I’ll pretend we’re still on the phone…and hope nobody else wants to make a call.”
Æons later it seemed, they saw a taxi pulling into the Pavilion, and park next to the Police car. “Let’s go, dad,” he said, replacing the receiver, as they both emerged. “Ooh….Panty Pervert Pete AND Flasher Fred….” said what seemed to be respectable middle-aged Lady, who’d evidently been waiting patiently to use the phone, “….it’s my lucky day. Perhaps a couple of quick flashes? I promise not to say anything to all those pokeable Policemen by the pond….” it seemed she suffered from a shortage of stud, “….although perhaps they could be persuaded to take me in for questioning? I’d really rather relish a session in the cells.”
He shrugged, as they both bared themselves. “Panty Pervert Pete packs a pulsing penis….” he said a second time, “….Flasher Fred’s phallus for fucking floozies,” his paternal parent repeated likewise. “Lovely….” she murmured, her mouth wide open and eyes vacant, clearly captivated, “….both seven inches of circumcised sin. My number’s 36941, if either or both you bad boys are ever near № 23 EXPRESS WAY on the Fourth estate….” where the roads were all named after national newspapers, “….I’d be happy to have a hump, with no questions asked. My name’s Miss Evie Sutton and I’m a….well, easy slut, as my school nickname implies….” Ohh, “….alas my slit sees very little action….apart from doing it with dildos.” She mouthed them both kisses. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he muttered, “though it won’t be for some time, whilst I’m lying low.”
Then they hurried across to Madam Min’s swish saloon. For the first time, he saw it bore the personalized vehicle registration plate of MM M1N. As always, it appeared there was much money to be made from the manipulation of man meat. Quickly, he opened the trunk, and even at this time of trial and tribulation, they folded their cloaks neatly. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into them, both at home and St Sticks. They added the balaclava, before extracting the Naked Waiter wear. Then they streaked towards the waiting taxi, with Easy Slut peering out of the phone box in ardent admiration. “Hop in, guv’nors,” said Piecework, “we’d best be off pretty pronto.” They climbed into the back seats, “Ahhh,” they both gasped, and once again their raw rears reminded them of all the rattan they’d recently received. This was the thing about thrashing, its effects lingered longer. Quickly, they closed the doors, and as the taxi sped away, he took several deep breaths.
Several minutes later, they reached the HIGH STREET again. They passed all the shops, now closed for the night, which was as well since it meant there were few people around. After all, they were definitely Driving Dubiously Dressed all over again. “I like the look of the leopard-skin motif knicks you’re carrying, Shagger,” said Wok Peace as they started into the suburbs, “presumably they’re Leopard-skin Lucy’s….if you don’t mind me asking?” He shrugged. “Quite correct,” he replied, “and I can confirm complete with a very choice cunt scent, as you might imagine….” he paused, “….she gave them to me as a gift….but would you like them? Unless you’re not into naughty knickers over the nose?.” There was a neat nod. “Sold, Shagger,” he said, “I’ll enjoy wearing them this evening….with Mf Stern for company, since I don’t have a date to discipline.” What better way to wank worthlessly, when one hadn’t a wanton wicked wench with which to whack? “You expressed an earlier interest in naked waiter service, Wok,” he said, “so you can have my high heels and bowtie, too.” There was a wide wink as he passed them over, and the driver slipped them under his seat. “I told you discretion was my watchword, Shagger,” he said, “so in the unlikely event the local law catches up with me for this fare, I’ll do my best to lead them astray. After all, we were given a pretty good description of Panty Pervert Pete in the Letchhampton Leader last year. It doesn’t relate to reality, but who’s worried?” Very reasonable of him indeed, in the circumstances.
They reached the Alphabet estate, and turned into ACACIA AVENUE. Once again, the taxi driver kindly reversed into the driveway of № 8. “Thanks for everything, Wok,” he said as they emerged. “We may meet again shortly, Shagger,” he replied, “when I’m back for a bonk….after trying out your bowtie and high heels. I’m slightly surprised at myself, but maybe I’m not quite such a Dominant dolt as I’d thought?” As so often turned out to be the case. After all, it had been the same situation with Wanker Boy Will, and also his dearest Domme. As Grizelda Gutteridge, she’d been sure of leaning at least ’levendy in the direction of Domination….eleven dozen to one. After her Mental Makeover she’d tended tendy to twendy, but now nudged ninedy to thirdy.
They padded towards the back door, whilst waving once, and then the taxi was away. He was rather relieved of having left a key handy, since there didn’t seem to be anyone at home. His Mother would once again be laying Low IQ, and most likely his sinful Sister screwing some studs somewhere. He unlocked the door, and they both continued into the kitchen. “A close call, Davy,” said his dastardly dad, with massive understatement. He stacked the remaining pair of shoes into the cane cupboard, and hung up his bowtie. Then the phone rang and they both hurried into the hall. “Letchhampton 26901,” he said, breathlessly. “Thank goodness you’re back safely, Shagger,” said Primula Proffer, “is your dad with you as well?” He nodded automatically. “Yes,” he replied, “we’ve just arrived home. We were able to take a taxi from the Pavilion, whilst you were being interviewed by the Police. Did you have to hand over the filthy photographs, the ones with us wanking worthlessly….the scourges of two not-so saintly schoolgirls in the public park?”
There was a slight snigger. “No problem,” she said, “since there hadn’t been any film in the camera. I never take any actual pictures of clients without their express permission…..” thank goodness, “….Officer Weedon was most suspicious, and was sure I was withholding evidence, so they searched us both thoroughly. I was wondering whether they’d do all our intimate areas, but they must have been worried about their own actions being caught on CCTV. They eventually let us go, and we’ve just returned in Min’s car. So all’s well which ends well, and in time for our respective clients….” he glanced up at the clock, and saw it was 6.52pm, “….although I’ll have to give the public pond a miss next time someone’s seeking similar sin….” she paused, “….thank your dastardly dad again for the delicious dinner. We DID enjoy the naked waiter service, and you’ll have to do it again sometime….” which wouldn’t be for a while, “….goodnight Shagger, and sleep well.”
He might do so….when his system had settled down somewhat, “Goodnight, Primula,” he said, just as there was the usual Clickk. “Don’t you have any other lines to monitor apart from ours, Filly?” he asked, sourly. “Yes,” she replied, “the public phone box at the Pavilion being one of them, at the behest of the local law….” Oops, “….though don’t worry, I have your back in case of any future enquires.” Nice to know. “I’d prefer you having my hiney,” he replied, rudely. “Promises, Shagger,” she said, “and I’ll take you up on it at some stage….even if it isn’t on stage, so to speak….” very witty, “….which I’d really like to attend, but can’t, You’ll understand some of us have full-time jobs, and can’t go swanning off to the smoke whenever we wish. However I hope you’ll let me watch the AV Record of the proceedings….since I still haven’t fully seen the first one.” Fair enough, “It’s a definite date, Filly,” he replied, “goodnight for now.” There was a farewell Clickk, so it seemed she too was gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment