By Mads Hansen
I
Harry was off somewhere buying more booze, while I followed the three girls up the stairs to our room, which was on the top floor furthest down. When I arrived at the door, trying to find my keys, I realized there was a bloke with the girls.
“Hello and welcome to our penthouse.” I said and we shook hands. He was terribly drunk. He couldn’t even find my eyes or face for that matter. Shit he couldn’t even find me. I was later to find out he worked at The Old Blue Last. We went in and Harry quickly followed. I barely talked to Florence. We just threw ourselves onto my bed and started fondling. Florence’s’ friend, the one Harry had gotten with, went out to the bathroom with the bartender. Good for them. It had already begun.
After a while (very quickly) they both came out. Poor guy I thought. Either he wasn’t able to get it up, or he was just a quick comer. Anyway, poor guy. I had never had that kind of problem. Getting it up that is. I was always ready for a battle of the sexes, and the only way to fight such a battle was through sex.
As soon as the two had left the toilet I grabbed Florence’s hand and pulled her out there. I opened my belt, unzipped my pants and whipped out my penis. Then I grabbed the back of her head to show her my intentions. She took my penis into her mouth and started working. It was by far not the best I had had. By far but, still, I was luckier than most men. So I surrendered to her mouth and began thinking of someone else.
After some time I thought I better give her something to remember me by, so I pulled her pants off, lifted her legs up on my shoulders and went down to give a bit of the old cunnilingus. Before my mouth touched clit I saw that she had a small birthmark, just above her vagina. Never seen that before. It was quite big. Not disgusting, but funny. And not in the laughing way funny, but I just found it funny. Anyway, on with the tongue and jaw workout.
I worked as well as any man could in the cramped state we were in, and after a while I got back up, her legs still on my shoulders, and slid inside her. She let out a faint “Ohh” and all was good. I pounded her in an ungentlemanly way but that is the way of toilet sex. For me anyway. Maybe I have something to learn. Teach me all ye beautiful women out there!
I picked her up and slammed her against the shower box wall still grinding her. She was very light. Good. Otherwise I would have broken my back. That has happened. Can’t remember who told me but I’m sure many men have broken their backs attempting to lift a women and fuck her up a wall or midair.
I put her back on the ground, turned her around and went back inside. This time I was determined to come and so I pounded away, letting her know I was coming by quickening my breath and she quickly followed. And then I came.
Chapter
II
We came out of the lovemaking den and nobody had seemed to notice we were gone. Maybe I was just too drunk to notice. Florence sat by the table and I sat on the bed where her friend Molly was sitting. For some reason she called herself Molly but her real name was Anastasia. The reason for this I will never know.
As soon as I sat down on the edge of the bed, my front towards Harry, his girl, forgot her name, and Florence. Molly sneaked up from behind. She was a large woman. Not too fat but, well I guess the right word, or the kindest word, is big-boned, very big-boned. She was far from pretty, very masculine but not in the sexy way that some women are. The kind you know would put you in your place. She was just a large, big-boned, pale, masculine woman. Not my kind of gal.
“Let me hold you.” She said quite loudly, probably too drunk to notice she wasn’t whispering, classic mistake for the rarely-drunks.
“It’s not that I don’t find you attractive,” I lied, but did so not to hurt her feelings. “But I’m afraid that if I let you hold me you’ll rape me. And I’m not in the mood for being raped right now.”
She threw her head back in a way too dramatic and shouted:
“I’m not trying to rape you!” she quieted down after her remark and then, quieter than ever said,” I just want your body.”
“Thank you.” I said, now looking at her with a raised eyebrow, “But I couldn’t possibly do that to Florence.”
I know what you are thinking. I should have done it, but no. I would not disgrace a woman in such way. Florence was far too kind and far too simple a girl to offend and so I moved away from the edge of the bed and walked over to the kitchen to get a cigarette and some wine. A lot of wine. A man needs wine. Too much if he has the money and the stomach for it. I only had the stomach.
Chapter
III
Florence walked up to me almost out of nowhere. I was no longer as drunk as before, but my mind must have been slowed due to the lack of sleep and recent ejaculation. She said nothing and I just put my arms around her, and held her tight. It was nice. It is always nice to hold a woman, whether she is just a friend or someone whom you have just penetrated in the toilet. Women have this warmth. You hardly ever get cold when they are close to you.
I let go of her and sat down on a chair and she sat on top. Just then my other friend, Mark, came in the room. He had been working a long shift but seemed not to mind the females in our room. He wanted to be a musician, played guitar and was damn good at it.
“Mark old buddy. Where have you been?” I asked not remembering he had just gotten home from work. Then I quickly remembered and said, before he got to answer, “Work, that’s right. Hope it was not too much of a strain. We have a somewhat fine selection of females here but these two,” I pointed at Florence and the one Harry was with, “Have already been taken so you are left with…” I pointed at Molly having forgotten her name.
“Molly.” She said with a certain anger maybe feeling unimportant. Which she was. An unimportant rapist. Very rare species. Mark made the introductions and he was now a part of the game. Good. Now there was one for everyone. The show could go on.
I sat back down Florence quickly followed; sitting on top, and Mark found a seat next to me. I was just about to get a good old man to man talk with Mark, when Molly suddenly got up from the bed and walked towards me, only the table between us. Good I thought. If she tries to rape me she’ll have to cross this four legged wooden obstacle, and in the meantime I might be able to make for an escape. But Molly was not trying to rape me this time. She just wanted attention.
“I bet I could beat you in arm-wrestling.” She said out of nowhere but with a certain determination, as if I were to be punished for having declined her offer, the rape offer.
“I don’t want to arm-wrestle with you.” I said Florence still on my lap.
“Are you scared?” she said mockingly. “I know I will beat you.”
“It’s not that. I am just not in the mood to arm-wrestle with a rapist.”
“Come on!” Harry’s girl suddenly shouted from somewhere in the room. And then they all started.
“Do it, do it, do it!”
“All right,” I said reluctantly, getting up from my chair, feeling that I had to please the crowd or I might have a riot on my hands. I put my elbow on the table (we had to stand up since there were no chairs with the same height) and Molly and I clinched hands. She was far from strong, not that some women aren’t, and Molly quickly put both her hands around my fist and tried to force my arm onto the table. Not even that helped, and I gently laid down both of her hands on the table. There were screams and cheers. I said nothing and just sat back down and lit a cigarette. I had just arm-wrestled with an unimportant, pale, big-boned rapist who called herself Molly. Still, I’ve been in stranger situations.