READERS WIVES & THE SOLO COCK BALLET

10:40 – Morning break time

Terry the school fixer and acquirer of contraband extraordinaire (he’d once sourced a shitload of copies of that Madonna book with all the nuddy photos; my God, that was a disappointment), pulled me into the bogs. I gave him a tenner, he handed over the Tescos carrier bag full of goodies. I slipped the bag into my satchel nodded curtly and went on my merry way.

11:00 – 12:30 – Double English

While the teacher prattled on about the relationship between two characters in King Lear – the old mad fucker himself and some bird named Gonorrhea, I think, I was distracted. I kept reaching into my satchel to make sure my illicit purchase was still there. I rubbed the crinkly plastic of the carrier bag like a loving parent tousling a child’s scruffy hair. It was during this lesson of tedium – now the teacher was going on about some bloke named Duke who was from Gloucester – that I hatched out my plan. I just couldn’t wait until I got home. I just couldn’t,... So, eager and ever-so-slightly engorged, I looked up at the clock and counted down the minutes to-

12:30 – Lunch Time

My mate Greg asks if I want to go and play footie with a few of the lads. “Fuck no,” I say, and speed out the classroom, trundle down the long pathway leading to the main gates, and then I’m free. I’d already thought of a great place to *ahem* sample my wares. There was a HUGE fucking roundabout a little way further down the road, a really big fucker lined with trees and big bushy shrubs. I’d pissed about in the centre of the place before and it was pretty secluded – an oasis of calm in the middle of this busy build-up area.

12:35 – Roundabout

After legging it across the road I push through the foliage, find a nice shady spot, reach into my satchel and pull out my purchase. I tear open the carrier bag and say a little prayer. “Oooohh, yes!” I lay out in front of me on the warm dry grass the six or seven copies of this specialist reading material Terry had sourced for me. It was all good stuff. I could feel my trouser tiger start to growl in anticipation. You can keep your super models, you can keep your airbrushed porn; for me, there’s just nothing as sexy, nothing as downright cock-thumpingly alluring as seeing a load of middle aged ladies from Stoke in cheap grundies showing their wet bits for the pleasure of their fellas and the general public at large – yep – I’m talking Readers Wives. And I was the proud owner of six or seven mags packed full of the horny buggers.

12:36 – Down to business

Having released my baby-maker, feeling the slight kiss of the breeze on my balls, I’m getting down to some seriously frantic expert wankerage, flipping through the veritable feast of cellulite, cheap C & A panties, and ultra-hairy minge laid out before me. Eventually I settle on one special lady – a forty year old battleaxe from Norwich who’s bending down and spreading her legs so wide I’m sure I can see what she had for lunch that day. And it all feels so naughty, what with the sound of the traffic zooming round the roundabout. But I’m secluded. I’m alone. I am an island. I’m a maverick. And I’m having a very nice, though incredibly frantic wank.

12:37 – Release !!!

With a little whimper, like a dying puppy, I shoot my gloop over the grass and over my hand. I feel, quite literally, drained. I quickly wipe my sticky fingers on the immaculate lawn, dab my weeping bell end with a couple of stray leaves, zip up and get ready to make my way back to school.

12:38 – Oooh, bugger....

Then – as I’m putting my Readers Wives mags back in my satchel I just happen to glance up and to my left, to the offices of British Timken (they make ball bearings, you know), which has a great view of the main road leading into Duston, Northampton, its a pretty damn large building that dominates the skyline and overlooks the local vista, including a very nice view over the trees and shrubs of the centre

of ....

the...

fucking....

roundabout....

In the higher windows on the third or fourth floor – probably their canteen, what with it being lunch time - there were about fifty or sixty faces – men and women – staring down at me. I stared back for a bit. They continued to stare. I felt like a frightened bunny caught in the headlights. Some of the faces looked pretty frightened too.

1:30 Afternoon Lessons

I spent the rest of the day cringing inside sat at my desk, shitting myself to the point of distraction, hoping and praying that the school wasn’t going to receive a complaint about one of their pupils being caught doing a spot of solo cock ballet in full view of a shitload of hopefully titilated and sexy feeling, but most probably vomit-induced and disgusted factory workers.
( SpankyHanky, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:27, 7 replies)

great
just great! *click*
(Lizard King, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:34, closed)

Wouldn't this be
a live performance of child-porn?
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:38, closed)

Today's twelve year old
Would have reported the office workers to the police for witnessing that live performance.

*Click* for not "checking your corners" before getting the spunk cannon out for a bit of target practice.
( Scrumper, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 12:11, closed)

Lol, this makes you an utter wanker....
...in a roundabout way :D

*clicks furiously*
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:44, closed)

Ah Reader's Wives
I do have fond memories of that as a young piston_broke.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:44, closed)

Didn't this first appear
in the 'My First Pr0n' QotW?

Either way, it's so fantastic I think it deserves a click this time around as well.
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:44, closed)

Solo cock ballet
...and "some bird named Gonorrhea".

*Clickety-click*
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Wed 3 Jun 2009, 12:41, closed)