That Night in the Pub

Marie and Belinda sat at a table in the hotel bar miserably drinking cheap white wine. "Miserable" I have written and miserable they were, despite the false laughter, giggles and nudges that went on between them.

Their artificial merriment was for the benefit of the men standing around in the bar. Looking round you could see that the men's ages ranged from those pretending to be of legal age to drink alcohol to upward of ninety. Most of them were drinking beer, but a few more prosperous looking types were on the spirits. As for Marie and Belinda, they were in their forties.

To describe them briefly I would say that Marie was buxom, full breasted – very full breasted - ripe of lip and the mother of three teenage children. Broad but not unappealing hips were supported by sturdy legs. One of the beer drinkers nudged his companion and nodding his head towards Marie said, "She'd suck yer in a blow yer out like bubbles mate."

Belinda was slighter of build and taller than Marie, with firm little breasts that pushed unbridled against the tight top she was wearing, and thus displaying rather delectable looking nipples. It was her legs, however, that were her main attraction. They were displayed beneath a very short skirt that seemed hardly to cover her sex organ, and were long and slender. From between those legs two offspring had entered the world.

The commentator on Marie further speculated on Belinda; "Cor, I wouldn't mind getting between her legs."

The two women had been out to see a film and had decided to drop in at the pub for a drink on the way home. They often went to see films together but this was their first ever pub adventure.

I should explain that they known each other since they first went to school aged five. They had gone to same Sunday School and still attended the same church. They had played in the same basket ball teams and played tennis for the same club.

On leaving school and taking on office jobs they both kept in touch, and got married within six months of each other, both being in their twenty second year on this earth.

Now in their forties they still shared large parts of each other's lives, and were now faced with a similar problem.

Perhaps it was Marie who stated the problem most elegantly; "Sid never gives me enough." Belinda put it more crudely, "My bastard fucks me about once a month if I'm lucky."

From this it is not difficult to deduce that these two ladies were suffering from a severe shortage of sensual gratification. Further to this, our heroines had that disturbing feeling that they had somehow missed out on their teenage years.

They had both gone to the marital bed as virgins, having had little more than a few fumbles with the boys after leaving the church youth club on Wednesday nights. The men they had married were church boys, Sid and Brian. Both were safe and secure in their jobs as accountants; as it is often said of such men, "They're good husbands and fathers and good providers." But as Belinda put it in her summarising manner, "They're so bloody dull."

Hence the two ladies tended to spend days with the dull ache of blood infused organs of reproduction that could only be dispelled by the various techniques of self relief. Add all together and you will understand that there was a potentially volatile situation.

The first sign that this volatility was about to take effect might have been observed when Belinda took to wearing what she believed to be the garb of female youth, namely, the short, leg revealing skirt. Actually this tended to be the fashion some twenty five years before, the modern female having passed on to jeans and midriff revealing tops.

Marie on the other hand, still retained her more respectable cotton and synthetic suits, but had so far hopefully enhanced her appeal by resorting to fish net stockings.

Now they had taken, for the first time, the bold step of entering Satan's Palace of Sin, the pub, and were actually sitting there drinking alcohol while looking over and being looked over by Satan's disciples as they drank their beer and spirits.

They of course had told each other that they were only going into the pub to find out what it was like, and then they would leave. Now on their third glass of inferior plonk, and the pub world looking quite a pleasing environment. they made no shift to leave it.

There had been a number of comments of a suggestive nature come their way from the males, to which the ladies responded with giggles and titters. Then at one point one of the spirit drinkers came to their table, sat down, and then speaking very quietly said, "Why don't you two silly cows stop pretending to be what you're not and piss off home before you get into trouble." Having said his piece the man returned to the bar and ordered another whisky.

Marie and Belinda, bold as they had tried to appear in this environment of unrighteousness, were startled by the stranger's words.

"Perhaps we'd better go," quavered Marie.

"I suppose," muttered Belinda, "it's getting late."

Having decided to depart from Hell's Kitchen, but before they could make the move, they were joined by not one, but four young males of virile appearance who surrounded them at the table, one of whom addressed them thus: "Buy yer a drink, ladies?"

In fact the ladies had been observing this male foursome for some time. There had been much nudging and winking in the direction of the women, and this had been responded to with twitters and titters by the ladies.

Belinda had been in the act of gathering up her hand bag as she rose from her chair, but now she put it down and resumed her seat. "Don't mind if we do," she responded, looking meaningfully at Marie.

Introductions were effected but I shall not relate the names of the boys since the ladies have requested me not to do so. Drink orders were given and carried out and cheery communications begun along the lines of "Where yer from?" "Come here often?" "Yer married?" and similar intellectual inquisitions.

As the conversation progressed it was suggested that the pub was a "dump" and they had plenty of booze back at their place so why didn't they go there?

Marie and Belinda had by now imbibed deeply of Beelzebub's Brew and were feeling somewhat befuddled. The floor seemed to be moving up and down and the walls wouldn't keep still. The boy's faces seemed to swim in space before them and at one point they felt themselves being helped to their feet and escorted from the den of iniquity.

From a long way off a voice said, "Leave yer car here, we'll drive yer back later."

Somehow they found themselves on the back seat of a strange car with two young men, the other two seated in the front. One of them was talking on a mobile phone.

Off they went through streets where the street lights seemed to be strangely blurred and although they had passed through these same streets many times, they seemed totally unfamiliar.

"I feel sick," groaned Marie. The car was stopped and her head pushed out of an open window from which she expelled a considerable quantity of the wine she had been drinking. This, however, did nothing to change the fact the whole world was spinning round her.

Neither of the ladies have any clear recollection of what happened next, nor any idea of how they got up the stairs to a third floor flat. It was only much later that they discovered that they had been in a flat three stories up.

The only recollection that Marie has is that she was seated on a sofa with two boys, one either side of her, with a glass of something in her hand.

Belinda's recollection is that someone was giving her glass of something and saying, "Come on, it'll do yer good."

One strange thing was that the four boys appeared to have multiplied to the extent that the small flat seemed to be crammed with laughing and jocose young men. They span with the rest of the world in a whirling blur.

A voice from a long way off said, "Righto girls, time for a bit of fun."

Both ladies can vaguely recall being picked up bodily and carried to bedrooms. It was to different rooms they were conveyed, and since what occurred in those rooms bore a distinct resemblance, I shall relate what happened to Marie more fully than Belinda's adventure.

In her alcoholic condition Marie was only dimly aware that hands were tugging off her clothing. It was only when she was down to her bras, knickers and fishnet stocking that she managed to bestir herself sufficiently to weakly protest; "What the hell are you doing? Get off me."

Hands held her down while she was divested of the rest of her garments. She made an ineffectual struggle to rise, but the combination of inebriation and strong hands kept her firmly pinned to the bed.

Something...someone...was doing something to her generously proportioned breasts. Two limpets seemed to have attached themselves to her mammary glands apparently bent on sucking something out of them.

It was nice, very nice, and it seemed to have a soothing effect on her, except that occasionally one of the limpets would give a little nip, but even that seemed to induce a strange feeling of pleasure.

Her legs were being drawn apart and something was touching her sex organ. The something entered and began to explore her vaginal tunnel and she made little whinnying noises. It was lovely and she was enjoying it, but in a strange way it seemed to be happening to her and someone else at the same time.

She heard a distant cry and then a voice close to her said, "Okay, she's good and ready."

Someone was lying on top of her, then something was sliding into her vagina...something long, hard yet somehow nice a comforting. It seemed to push into her for ever. It started slowly but moved faster and faster until there was a groan and something warm and sticky was being spurted into her.

She knew what it was because at one time Sid had spurted like that and she'd loved it and never wanted it to stop. Now it did stop and Marie gave a little whimper of complaint. She need not have worried because he was back again, lying on top of her and putting the long hard thing in.

It was lovely but something was happening to her...something that used to happen with Sid. She felt herself start to shake and her nerve ends seemed to tingle. It was coming and it was going to put her through agony.

In an unsteady voice she began to moan, "Don't let it come...don't let it come," but it did come like a raging tiger, shaking her, and too drunk to scream she moaned and wailed softly until the tiger went away.

Another weight came on her body and she began to realise that it was not always the same body or the same long hard thing that filled her up with the sticky stuff. In the midst of this she tried to think what the sticky stuff was called. She knew it made babies inside women, but what was it called? If only the room would stop going round she might be able to remember.

"Sperman; that's what it's called"; the long hard things were putting baby making sperman inside her. Drunkenly she thought, "It only takes one little sperman to make a baby. Perhaps a little sperman will give me a baby and I shall have another limpet."

"It only takes one" began to sing in her head; over and over it said, "it only takes one...it only takes one..."

"But there must be lots more than one," she thought. "Isn't that another hard thing...what do you call it...? God if only the room would keep still...it's a...a...pricknis...yes, Sid had one of those, or at least he used to..."

"Oh God, the tiger is coming again...why won't the pricknis stop...na...na...na...oooh...ow..."

The tiger was going away again and she felt lovely. People were leaving the room. Other people were coming into the room.

There seemed to be a lot of sticky sperman that was growing cold round her sex organ and running down to her backside then to somewhere. "It only takes one."

There was another weight on her and another hard thing. She could hear the grunting and groaning of whoever owned the hard thing. From a distance there was another scream.

Hands had long ceased to hold Marie down. She lay limp and yielding now still thinking, "it only takes one." Pricknesis came into her, put more sperman into her and were gone, to be replaced by another. How many she did not know. The tiger did not come again, so she lay there letting the pricknesis put their sperman into her.

Then there were no more pricknesis. Someone was putting her clothes on. The world was slowing down and a demon was starting to beat her brain with a hammer. She looked around to see four grinning faces, the hands belonging to the faces trying to get her dressed.

She felt weak but managed to whimper, "What's been happening to me? What have you done to me?"

"Giving yer what yer was asking for in the pub. Didn't yer like it?"

"I don't...know...you... raped me..."

"Come off it lady, it's not every woman your age get eight guys in one night; count yerself lucky."

Marie was led out into the lounge and there, supported by two of the boys, was Belinda. Her thighs being well exposed by the short skirt, Marie could see a whitish sticky substance oozing slowly down. "My God, that's sperm," thought Marie, at last being able to get the right word. "They've filled her up with sperm."

With that thought she began to fully appreciate her own condition. Her skirt being longer the dribbling semen was not visible, but she felt its gluey coldness.

"Let's get 'em back to their car," a voice said, and supported by a male on either side they were taken down the stairs. It was then that Marie saw that they had been up three flights.

She was now stale drunk and more aware of what had gone on. Her head was splitting and there was soreness in her sex organ. She wanted to protest, to threaten...to tell them she'd report them to the police. Then she realised that Sid would have to know where she'd been and what had happened. He was not the sort to take that sympathetically, so she stayed silent.

She looked at Belinda. She seemed to be in a trance, unseeing and only moving under the impulsion of her supporting escorts. She smelt a strange odour coming from her that at first she could not identify; then it hit her. "She's stinking of sex!" That brought her back to her own state, and she knew that she must also be exuding the after smell of coitus, made more potent by the number of men she had received.

They arrived back at the pub, now closed for the night. They had been using Marie's car and it was still there in the pub car park. Keys were fumbled for, doors opened and the ladies handed into the car seats.

"Goodnight ladies," chorused male voices, "It's been great," said one"; "Watch out for the cops and the breathalyser," called another.

After a few attempts Marie found the ignition lock and started the car. With the deliberate care of the drunk she drove slowly to Belinda's place. Belinda went to sleep during the drive and had to be woken up when they got to her house.

Marie seemed to have recovered a little more than Belinda, so she had to help Belinda to her front door and find the key in her handbag. Opening the door she said, "Goodnight Bel," and Belinda tripped over the door step and fell. Marie helped her up and said, "Careful Bel."

Belinda whimpered something and went in leaving the door open. Marie shut it and went back to her car and drove home. Putting the car into the driveway she almost tore down the front fence. She managed to find her front door key and opened the door in one go.

She dropped down into an armchair groaning, "Oh God, I feel terrible."

She was sufficiently alert – just – to consider her situation. The sperm had now dried and was caking her inner thighs. She knew she must smell of sex and somehow had to manage a shower.

Looking at the clock she was able, by dint of turning her head back and forth, to finally line it up sufficiently to see that it was a quarter past two. "Bloody hell," she thought, "I'll have to shower quietly or I'll wake everybody up."

She managed to get to the shower, keeping one hand feeling the walls to steady her self. Uncaring she dropped her clothes on the floor and turning the shower on with the lowest possible pressure she washed away the night's transgressions.

Leaving her clothes where they had dropped she made her way to the bedroom. There was one thing in her favour, she and Sid slept in separate beds. Sid was in his bed snoring lustily. Marie, stark naked, fell into her bed.

"Oh God I feel terrible," she moaned, but then a merciful hand grabbed her and dragged her down into a big black hole.

She woke in the morning with the sun streaming in through the window. Marie opened her eyes and shut them again quickly. "Bloody hell, I feel awful," she moaned. Someone was operating a pile driver in her brain; her mouth felt as if it was made of sandpaper; her bowels and bladder were crying out their demands.

Marie was forced to open her eyes just a little and she noted that Sid was gone from his bed and that her clothes of last night were draped over a chair.

She rose from the bed, and then fell back onto it again. "Never again," she thought, "Never again."

Under the impetus of her internal organs she made another attempt to rise and managed it. The next five minutes made her feel a little more at ease, and she went to the shower before realising she was naked. The realisation came when her son Rob hurtling out of his room late for school, stopped in his tracks and gasped, "Mum!"

Marie muttered, "Piss off," and went into the shower.

Rob went his way amazed. He had never seen his mother naked before and until then coarse language had not passed her lips in his presence.

The shower did a little more to revive Marie, but the pile driver was still banging away. She took a couple of aspirin and hoped for relief.

Back in the bedroom she was about to put away her last night's garb when she detected a funny smell.

To this point the pile driver and her other discomforts had held the events of the night in abeyance; now they came leaping to the forefront of her brain; "The flat...the boys...!"

She tried to remember exactly what had happened, but details escaped her. The events were a confused mess. "They stink of sex," she muttered, sniffing the clothes. Among her other aches and pains she became aware that there was soreness in her vagina and her breasts. She looked down at her breasts, then lifting one in her hand she saw some slight bruising round the nipple.

She hastily dropped the breast and dressed. Passing through the kitchen on her way to the laundry she found Sid just about to leave for work.

"What time did you get home last night?" he asked.

"Dunno, about twelve I suppose," lied Marie.

"You left your clothes on the shower room floor and they had a funny smell."

"Ah...yes...well...I played with Bel's cat and I think it was that."

"Ah; see you later then."

Sid went forth to his daily toil leaving behind a much relieved Marie. "That was a narrow escape," she decided.

Putting the offending garments into the washing machine and setting it going she headed for the telephone. She was about to call Belinda when the instrument buzzed. It was Belinda.

"Christ Marie, I feel terrible."

"Take a couple of aspirin," said Marie, who was now feeling a bit better, the pile driver having been reduced to a tack hammer."

"I did," wailed Belinda, "but they haven't done anything."

"You'll have to give them time to work," said Marie somewhat unsympathetically.

"Marie, did it really happen...last night?"

"I'm bloody sure we didn't dream it. I've got a sore...you know what...and bruises round my nipples."

"So have I...Marie...how many were there?"

"I dunno...wait a minute...yes I do...one of the guys said something about me having eight of them."