1. Tunnels, Tracks, and Trains


    Date: 2/21/2016, Categories: Hardcore, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    'I...' My privileged childhood, my spectacular fall, my years of abject abuse, and my eventual meteoric deliverance from adversity, flashed by in a moment. As always, I chose to focus on the present. '...am a lawyer. An advocate. A Queen's Counsel, as a matter of fact.' The girl sat on her hands, leaned towards me and beamed. 'Really? Wow! I'm doing A level law. It's actually the only thing about school I enjoy.' Meanwhile, the deathly pale punk had silently risen. She retrieved her pissy dress from under her seat and, squatting beside the milf, gingerly grasped the once-white material in her clawed fingers and mopped the floor between the trembling legs. 'Excuse me, love. I'm just cleaning up a bit' The milf barely responded to the punk's gently spoken words, though whispered a broken thank-you as her spattered shoes were wiped clean. Still squatting and breathing hard, the punk turned to the schoolgirl, her energy and anger momentarily spent. 'Don't waste your fucking time with that shit. I started a fucking degree in it. Suffered two long, boring years before I jacked it in.' In the pause to gather her thoughts, her energy reignited, her anger flared, and her pupils burned. 'Take my advice: get out. Get yourself a job. Any shitty job. Then party. Sex and drugs. Live while you can. You might die tomorrow... ' She picked up the milf's damp knickers, sniffed them cautiously then stood and tossed them onto the vacant seat. By dramatically drawing myself up, I demanded the ...
    attention of both girl and punk. I tried hard not to sound both old and patronising. 'No, you're wrong. Education's essential. I wasted half my life thinking like you. It almost killed me. Education saved me, gave me everything I have. Money, freedom, self-respect...' With her naked arse barely a foot from my face, the milf remained nailed to her self-styled crucifix. From an orgasmic haze, her slurred voice materialised. 'The old girl's right. I did the same. Dropped out. Got high, got laid, got pregnant then got fat and lazy... and got treated like shit. I've been beaten, abused...' She sobbed. Her battered body shook. 'But not anymore. I'm leaving it behind. I'm changing.' The blurred voice suddenly focussed. Remarkably, its rounded vowels and clipped consonants were not dissimilar to my own. 'I'm going back to school. Don't know what I'm going to study... but yes, thinking about it, I did law at A level too. It was...' Turning her head, she glanced around the hushed gathering and smiled a familiar crooked smile, 'cool.' Schoolgirl was still staring at me. 'A Queen's Counsel? Oh, my, that's amazing. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?' The old lady suddenly leapt up, her powdered beatific face the epitome of epiphanic sainthood. 'Charlotte!' As one, four females answered. 'Yes?' She regarded each of us with sympathy, as though we were the ones with dementia, before sinking slowly back into her seat. 'I remembered. My name. It's... it's Charlotte.' Gently taking the ...
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