Some kind of superbird???
Disembarking from a train, getting through the ticket barriers, shouldering a backpack and standing round waiting for your girlfriend (who you haven’t seen for three weeks) and her father (who you haven’t met before) is pretty straightfoward.

Unless you have a weeping hard on.

Then it becomes a challenge. For a start even taking the smallest of steps means your peice is rubbing on the inside of your zipper which could either lead to sever friction burns on your purple headed-love-lance or, very possibly, an ejaculation with such percussive force you’d end up falling over backwards as if someone had just shot you in the bollocks with a twelve bore shotgun.

I was twenty. I was horny. And I was visiting my first ever proper bona fide girlfriend on her home turf (someone I had convinced somehow to have full blown sexual intercourse with me on a regular basis without having to pay her afterwards) for the first time. Her name was Nikki and she lived in the depraved, puke-stained Vegas of the North, Blackpool. We’d hooked up towards the end of the last semster at Uni and spent our time alternating between shagging and eating tubes of pringles in bed. Then term ended. She fucked off to Blackpool, I fucked off back to the Midlands dragging my engorged blue balls behind me on a sled.

Three weeks later, comming up to dusk, I find myself waiting in Blackpool train station for my cum recepticle and her dad. And they turn up. And my cock goes even harder as I see Nikki jiggle and bounce toward me.

Moments later Nikki and I are holding hands on the backseat of her dad’s Rover. (It was red, that’s about as technical as I get about cars). It was a warm summer’s evening, the door on myside was wound down. But as the night was setting in it became a little chilly, so I absently pressed the little switch at my side and the window slid effortlessly closed with a satisfying little buzz. I was happy. And to show my happiness I manouvered Nikki’s hand over my crotch and got her to practice changing gears on my stick while her dad, oblivious, talked about footie in the drivers seat.

Nikki’s dad explained he had to pop into Sainsbury’s for some groceries, so he pulled up, unbuckled and said: “Won’t be long. You can come if you want.”

We didn’t ‘want’. We stayed in the car and necked a bit. Nikki smelt good. Her exposed thighs were smooth and tanned and I felt my hand sliding up her firm upper legs, my fingers playing over her plump moist gash through the thin cotton of her knickers. And then ziiiipppp. In one fluid motion I found myself staring at the back of Nikki’s dirty blonde (and she was) head as she bobbed up and down on my meat oboe, trying with all her might to get a fucking tune out of it.

“What about your dad?” I whimpered.

Nikki stopped breifly, smiled up and said: “He won’t be back for ages.” And then she continued her job in hand (and mouth), as I sat in the summer darkness of a Sainsbury’s carpark, in a Rover (a nice red one), and had my cock sucked by a girl who could tie a peice of string into a knot using only her tongue.

Fourty-five seconds later (hell, I hadn’t seen her for three weeks), I felt the sperm in my balls take the express elevator up my flesh fun tower and make a sudden appearence, en masse, at the single slanty exit on the observation level.

Nikki gagged but – always the trooper – clamped down with her lips until I’d stopped jerking and twitching like a body popper with Parkinsons. But Nikki had a strange trait. One that some girls have and others don’t. One that meant that usually, back in our halls, we’d have an empty glass waiting on the bedside cabinet. Nikki was a spitter. She looked up at me, smiling (as well as you can with a mouthful of premium testicle tadpoles) and for one brief moment I though she was going to gulp it down. But instead she leaned over me and spat it out my window and onto the tarmak outside. Then Nikki came up for a kiss (fucking hate it when that happens). And then, having a post blowjob hug, we waited for her old man to reappear.
He came back with a bit of shopping and we made our way leisurly toward home, Nikki and I all cuddled up. Great weather. Young love. I’d just had my tadger gobbled. Serene.

When we arrived at Nikki’s parent’s house the girlfriend and I went inside, Nikki’s dad explained he needed to park the motor in the garage. Nikki and I went in and met her mum. She had tea waiting for us. Perfect. Nikki’s old man made an appearence: “Seagulls! Loads of ‘um round here, unfortunately – always leaving their muck on the car.” He disappeared into the kitchen, came out with a cup of water and a cloth, then went back outside.

It was a great evening – going through old photo’s of Nikki as a nipper, having a slap up meal, then disappearing to the spare room (wasn’t allowed to sleep with Nikki, good God no) for a bit of a cheeky groap before bedtime.

And as I was getting to sleep I realised Nikki’s dad had become somewhat withdrawn through the evening. Initially he was pretty chatty, nice, quite ok with the fact that I was almost certainly fucking his little girl. But that’d changed. And I thought back to the moment that’d changed. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable now, lying in bed, wide awake. It was when he went out to clean the seagull shit off the car. He’d come back, given me an odd look, and pretty much done the mean and moody thing from then on.

And then – with my stomach sinking – it dawned on me and hit me in the balls like a jack hammer.

I recalled - with absolute dread – that I’d wound the window up on my side on the way to the supermarket without Nikki noticing.... ....and I don’t think for one minute Nikki’s dad would actually beleive some kind of super seagull had managed to shit, leaving a long trail of milky, sticky, clammy goodness, on the inside of the rear passenger side window...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 12:58, 14 replies)

Virgin!

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 13:01, closed)

Tedious little twat
aren't you? Suppose it keeps you off the streets and out of sight constantly slagging people off on here - at least that's a plus.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 13:44, closed)

It's his favourite airline
He like to fantasise he's you in your posts and that the girl in question is Richard Branson.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 14:46, closed)

To be fair, he has a point.
There is literally no way that this could possibly be true. Sex is a myth.
If you're Badger, at least.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 15:24, closed)

Oh dear god.
"Unless you have a weeping hard on" had me laughing like a spazmo in a loincloth.

Great work as ever, Spank.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 13:47, closed)

Nicely
written sir
( SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 13:47, closed)

Giggled
all the way through.
Excellent!
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 13:54, closed)

Did you write
The letters to Fiesta in the 1980s?
(Lo Pan is in big trouble, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 14:08, closed)

the sperm in my balls take the express elevator up my flesh fun tower and make a sudden appearence, en masse, at the single slanty exit on the observation level.
For that line, and many others, click.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Fri 23 Apr 2010, 14:57, closed)

Right.
I don't care if they're true. I don't care if they're predictable (spot the Hanky isn't a challenge).
However, they are entertaining and fairly well written. Have a click.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Fri 23 Apr 2010, 15:11, closed)

On form as usual,
muchly enjoyed, from stiffy to belly laugh in no time!
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 15:30, closed)

now there's an image

( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 15:37, closed)

You had me at weeping hardon
so to speak.

*click*
( Ugi , it's a game of give and cake, Fri 23 Apr 2010, 17:59, closed)

Excellent story - but
BUT - it does not work at the end. First she spits OUT of the window and then somehow the tadpoles are on the IN-side.
ANYWAYS - enjoyed reading it. and you get a click.
(justin(e), Tue 27 Apr 2010, 13:31, closed)