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Shafting some Bunglas with a FTC 871

Date: 11/3/2017, Categories: Fiction, Domination/submission, Humiliation, Interracial, Non-consensual sex, Author: JohnnoAllthwaite, Rating: 66.7, Source: sexstories.com

give us a bell," Nobby said firmly, "We're off down the Dog and Duck for a bevvy," he lied and we strode out into the typical mist and light rain that is Weatherfield when it isn't raining hard. "That fucking told them," Nobby said, "Lets get bladdered." We went down Flying Horse in case Imran came looking and got started on the Stella. (Artois). "Hey Johnno, why don't you marry our Sheila?" Nobby asks after about ten pints. "No you're all right mate, I don't fancy your mum as mother in law," I says. "Might be you as got her in family way Johnno," Al reminded me. "For fucks sake I fucking paid her and I was rubbered up every time!" I reminded them. "No offence but she is a pro remember." "Nice little earner," Nobby said drunkenly, "It ain't fair that tarts gets paid for fucking and blokes has to pay for it." "If you say so," I says , "What do you think Jeremy?" Nobby looks up all guilty like, he hadn't seen Jerry France stood behind us. "Very funny Johnno," Jerry leers, "That was years ago." "What was?" Al asked. "He got done for soliciting!" I said "Weatherfield's only rent boy!" "Oh, very funny," Jerry says, "Anyway that's all in the past." "Glad to hear it," Al says. "Simon and I are getting married in October," Jerry says proudly and Nobby drops what was left of his pint in his lap. "Fucking hell!" he protests and frantically tries to wipe his crotch with some blokes anorak that he left hung on a chair while he went to the bog, "They'll think I pissed me self!" I tried to ... ignore him, pillock. "How's the Band going," Jerry asks, going on about Weatherfield Silver, the Brass Band I used to play in. "Fucking packed it in," I lied, I got sacked when I fucked up the Intermezzo from the "Ironmasters" in regional final, hit top A flat instead of top B flat you never heard such a fucking row, "You still play?" I asks. "A bit, I'm back on Flugel now," he says. "You always did have good tone, remember when we played 'Pie Jesu' for the old folks party?" I asked. "The old biddy said it brought tears to her eyes!" he agreed, "And I said it wasn't that bad!" we laughed, old Jerry wasn't a bad bloke for a shirt-lifter, at least he stuck to blokes his own age or older and wasn't a pedo like most of the queers round our way. "What about fucking Sheila," Nobby says. "No thanks!" Jerry laughs and he slips away. "Better see fucking Imran," I said. "Better get a Curry then," Nobby says, "Before we waste away." Waste away, Nobby's gut had to be 46 inches at least and he must have been eighteen stone because Al's Land Rover got quite a list on when Nobby climbed aboard. We had a curry, "Why is it always Indians what sells curry?" Nobby asked idly as he stuffed his face. There really wasn't no answer, and then we met Sheila as we walked home, she was standing at bus stop by WH Smiths. "What you doing our Sheila?" Nobby asks as if it wasn't painfully obvious what a seven months pregnant tart in a red miniskirt half way up her ass and a top that was so tight it bulged ...