1. Pedo Cure


    Date: 10/13/2015, Categories: Fiction, BDSM, Cock & ball torture, Consensual Sex, Prostitution, Torture, Author: Allthwaite, Rating: 20, Source: sexstories.com

    got some shagging planned. "Are you sure she's eighteen?" the stupid cow asked. "Eighteen, more like thirty eight double D," I quipped. "Oh John!" she quipped, "Isn't he funny, I'm Sandra," she added. It was all done and dusted, and all fucking forgotten by next morning, just because some Swedish wanker lets fly with a Kalashnikov and wipes out a communist summer camp 89 dead and a bunch more wounded and we was history, no one wanted Pedos hung, no it was all about right wing terrorists and bleeding Muslims. We made our way home up the M1 at a steady fifty stoppoing every few minutes to top the car radiator up with water, until we ran out, you ever tried pissing in an Astra Radiator, its bad enough for a bloke but Mum needed all of us to help her balance. “That Hayley is nice,” Sandra said later, as we clattered along at sixty in among the lorries after we whacked Watford Gap‘s entire stock of Bars Leak into the radiator and filled it with lemonade because it’s cheaper than bottled water. “When you was in make up she told me she charges two hundred quid for a short time.” “Two fifty,” I corrected. “She said you fucked bare back,” Sandra challenged. “Yes,” I admitted. “Better use a condi,” she said. “Not in my car you don’t!” Aunty Joan ordered, We ignored her, I rubbered up and Sandra sat on my lap with my cock up her and potholes did the rest. "Dad’s supposed to have recorded you on the Telly," me Mum said, "All those people," she said like some kind of imbecile, "And ...
    Sergeant Fforbes rang and said he wanted a word when you get home," she added. "What's his number?" I asked. "Nine Nine Nine," Aunty Joan suggested in her idea of a joke. It was next morning before I found the number and rang him up, "You wanted a word Sergeant?" I asked. "The Pedophile squad is being put on checking out right wing extremists," he said, "You're top of the list." "Right," I agreed. "So it's down to you, I'll get their details sent round." he says. "What do you mean down to me?" I asks. "Clearing the streets of Pedos," he says. "It ain't my job!" I says. "Ah well," he says, "Not a job but there's a bloke offering ten thousand a throw for every Pedo bollocked." he says, "Of course there's commission, ten per cent each for Tony and me but it's a nice little earner." "Christ," I says. "Your mate Al's up for it," he says, "You better watch out or he'll have your job!" "Christ," I said, "Yeah, just as long as they are pedos." "Oh yes, no worries," he agreed, “I send you an email." The Annual Council meeting at Town Hall was a shambles, there must have been half the perverts in England hanging about outside the building, Police dogs, Police horses trampling people and shitting everywhere, what a shambles, but I wore me overalls and sneaked in round the back and they never recognised me. The Council was boring, the big thing was electing the Chairman and that but I slipped away to the bogs when they elected chairman and the Tory bloke got it, which really pissed the Lib ...
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