Sunday, December 4, 2011

Sunday Scribblings #1


At least, I think that's what her name was.

I was at my favourite hangout the night before, a seedy dump known as the Queen and Sword. The missus had come home from work in a really foul mood, and I didn't want to be around for any of it. Her work had exploded in the Christmas rush, and she was having to field complaints more often than a fat man eats chocolate. Considering how fat the bitch was, she probably was eating chocolate in between handling complaints.

But this isn't about her. This is all about me.

Like I said, I was at the Queen and Sword, sitting at my regular place at the bar. The guys all liked me, although lately they've been looking at me differently. I konw why - it's because they think I'm becoming a depressive drunkard. I mean, maybe that has a little truth to it - I was going through at least a hundred pounds a week - but it was worth so I didn't deal with that bitch of a wife.

Oh yeah, I said this wasn't about her didn't I? I really need to stop talking about the bitch.

Anyway, I was nursing my fifth or sixth pint of the evening - I can't remember exactly how many it had been at that point. The pub had all the regulars: Bazza with his eyepatch throwing darts and groping any woman dumb enough to move within arm's reach of him, Darryl with his sleeves and pierced nose and eyebrows, Charlie the bartender with grey hair and bowtie, and all the other pricks I couldn't care less remembering. The pub always had shit entertainment, so it surprised me when this gorgeous bird with huge tits walked through the door with a couple of the pub boys flanking her and up to the stage.
I think my heart skipped a beat. Blonde hair, green eyes, with a healthy bit of meat on her. Not enough meat to fill a butcher, but enough to make things interesting.

She got behind a keyboard - the place wasn't big enough for a real piano - and belted out a few chords. Nothing flashy, just checking to see if all the equipment was working. One of the boys tapped the mic and introduced her. I couldn't hear too well because i was focusing on the glass in front of me, but I caught a 'Joy' somethingorother.

Even though I was nursing the glass in front of me, it was impossible not to be caught up in the siren's song. As the waves of her melody washed over me, I was lifted up and carried off to a magical land where I didn't have to worry about a damn thing.

And it was amazing.

I spun around on my barstool and watched her entranced, taking occasional sips from my glass at intervals like clockwork. She looked angelic as she spun, dove and weaved through her set. Even the bikers that always occupied a table in the corner were silent while she made her magic.

As she moved from song to song, I automatically called for more drinks. I don't even remember asking for them really, although I remember drinking them. At the time I didn't really care, because I was fixated entirely on her.

At some point late in the night she finished her set, to rapturous applause and whistles. I did my best to clap too, although at that point I had lost track of how many pints I had downed. I had pretty much lost track of the exact sequence of events that occured after that. I was starting to feel fatigued from the alochol, and all I was thinking about doing was heading home and passing out in the loungeroom so I wouldn't have to climb into bed with the bitch and hear her nag about why I'd been out drinking all night again. If the fat bloody cow listened to herself she'd know bloody damn well why!

Anyway, I think I remember her giving me a kiss on the cheek on the way out, like she did to the old bartender. After a little while I decided to head out too, since I didn't have any more money anyways. I found her bent over the bonnet of her van around the side of the pub, looking at the engine or something.

She was wearing a short little dress with nothing on underneath. Must've been chilly on her bum in the cold London night. Anyways, I called out to her and waved hello, and she turned around and waved. She said something about going in somewhere nice and warm.

I ambled up to her, wanting to get a bit friendly with her. I remember going on about her needing to be somewhere nice and warm too, and her going on about she's already got something nice and warm behind her. She was sounding incredibly saucy.

We spoke like that for a while, then she waved at me and said something about if I needed anything she'd be more than happy to help out. Then she turned around and went back to her engine, little bum in the air.

Well, considering the way I was feeling and the way she was showing, she could certainly give me a helping hand all right.

I unzipped my pants and came up behind her, peeking over her shoulder as I did so. She was looking intently at the radiator fluid, which was up way too high. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered into her ear what I wanted. She melted at hearing what I wanted to do with her. I was a little surprised that she was so willing. Maybe she hadn't had a hard cock up her in a few years, I dunno.

Anyway, I gave her a good hard shagging with her bent over the car, while she was moaning all the while. She was moaning pretty loudly too, which really got me going. I always loved a bitch who wasn't afraid to show she liked it, unlike my fat at home. 

Afterwards, I must've passed out because I woke up in a jail cell at some cop shop. My cock wasn't hanging out of my pants, so I must've buttoned it up at some point. I still remember how delicious that bird was though.

She was completely worth the shit I'd have to deal with when I get home to my bitch of a wife.

This was a piece written for Sunday Scribblings, a blog site for writers. Every week they put up a word, and you create a piece of writing inspired by that word. This will be the first of hopefully a long and happy line of scribblings!

P.S. Chris, I'll put excerpts from my NaNo novel in my next post. Promise :)

1 comment:

  1. What a great earthy read this was. OK I could have done with the consequences but you can leave that until next time.