Nothing special planned for today. I wake up quite early, still turned on by yesterday. I decide on a messy breakfast, so I take some stale bread in a bowl and piss into it, the nice thick, bitter morning piss which is really my favourite. Then I go down on my knees and slurp it up from the bowl. That done I crouch over the bowl and shit into it, then lower my cunt onto the pile of shit and rub myself against it. Mmm. It feels good, and of course soon my fingers join in the fun, rubbing through the thick gooey shit. When I'm about ready to come, I turn around and start to lick the remainder of the pile, savouring its bitterness and gradually pushing my face more and more into until I'm buried in shit, up my nose and in my mouth and I'm swallowing it, gulping it down, and my fingers rub and rub until I start to scream through the shit that fills me.
Of course now I'm filthy and I was planning to go out into the normal world, so I have to take a very thorough shower to remove as much of the smell as I can. It's a shame. My local street market runs on Friday and Saturday, and it's a few weeks since I've been down there. It's a good place to stock up on all kinds of messy food, as well as meeting my friends who run the stalls. I dress in my "poor fat cow" style, the grubbiest leggings I can find, covered in stains and with a few holes and runs and an old sweat shirt - no bra of course. Then I have another thought, I want to stay turned on. I push my leggings down and take a fine chain, locking one end to one of my labia rings, then running the chain around my hips and locking the other ring to the chain. My labia are stretched wide apart, making a kind of triangle exposing my clit and my inner labia so they'll rub against my leggings as I walk. I use tiny padlocks so I can leave the keys at home - even when it starts to tug and rub and become uncomfortable, I'll just have to put up with it. I finish my outfit with a tatty old pair of flip-flops.
My first call is my favourite charity shop. It's on the lowest rung of the social hierarchy as these shops go, and gets only the oldest, dirtiest stuff, which is perfect for me. I don't really need anything there but you never know what you're going to find, which is all the fun. The manageress recognises me and greets me with a tight-lipped nod. She's of uncertain age, probably in her late sixties, and seems like she's been there all her life. It's my lucky day, I find a real treasure. It's a white denim short skirt, with a bright brass zip up the front, as tarty as anything. It's worn and frayed at the seams and has a couple of faint stains on the front. The back is worn smooth and permanently discoloured in a vague light grey. Best yet, inside it is covered in vague, often-washed stains of cum and blood and shit. It must have been some dirt-poor single mum's only skirt for years and years before she finally persuaded some shiftless boyfriend to buy her something better. The old bat is asking a fiver for it but I show her the stains, she shrugs her shoulders and lets me have it for two. I find a tee-shirt to go with it, short enough that my fat little belly peeps out. With no bra it's really a bit much, my big tits bouncing around, rubbing my nipples against the material and making them hard and big. I could do with some shoes to complete the ensemble, ideally a pair of white high-heels like Bianca's. But this isn't Russell & Bromley, you have to take what you can find. There's a pair of black peep-toe sling-backs with a decent heel, worn out of course, the imitation leather scuffed and scratched and torn on the heel. I can't get her below a fiver for these. Lucky my toenails are still painted, they look really sexy peeping out through the open toe. Two pairs of shoes in one week, I feel like Imelda Marcos. My pussy is nice and wet and sticky from the friction against the leggings, and I'm enjoying that - I need something to rub me under the skirt. One of the specialities of this place is a big basket of unwashed stuff for pennies each. I rummage through it, relishing the dirty-body smell, and find a fluorescent green thong. While I'm at it I take a handful of dirty, laddered tights, which are always handy. I slip behind the grubby curtain that serves as a changing room, and slip into my new image. I can't resist sniffing at the thong, whoever wore it last wasn't too clean. It is brown where it tucked up against her anus, and smells of pussy and period too. I pop it in my mouth and suck at its mixture of stale body tastes, then slip it on tugging it tight against my own cunt and anus. While I was a poor fat cow I wasn't wearing make-up, but I need some now. The shop has a basket of old make-up for pennies, and I find a whore-bright scarlet lipstick and some black eye make-up which will be perfect.
It's been a great start to the day, I'll be a real success in the market now. All the traders know me, I've been going there for years and most of them have had a few favours. My first stop is the fish stall.
"Cor Pauline, you look bloody fabulous. If I didn't have to mind the stall I'd give you one right now." It wouldn't be the first time, by a long way. I offer to help him for a while. I love doing this, there's something uniquely, sexily messy about fish, their slipperiness and spikiness and the soft smelly meltiness of their insides. Our customers don't have much money and mostly don't know much about cooking either, so our staples are pretty basic. We're more at the crab sticks and fish fingers end of the market than turbot and dover sole. Quite a few of them complement me, "You look gorgeous Pauline, someone's a lucky man", that kind of thing. All our customers, and nearly everyone in the market except the people who work there, are women. They're all ages, from sorry-looking seventeen-year-old single mums with their third-hand pushchairs to old-age pensioners trying to stretch every penny of their pathetic pension. I really like these people, all of them - well, nearly all of them, there's always the occasional bitch. Things quieten down at one time so I lead Bob (the fishmonger) round the back of his van, unzip his flies and start to give him a blowjob. I leave lipstick rings around his cock, but when he's close to coming I decide to give him a treat, so I stand up and bend down across the front of his van. He lifts my skirt, complements me on my underwear, pulls it out of the way and fucks me. He comes within a few seconds and we go back to serving customers, sticky cum dribbling down my thighs as I gut the fish and chop their heads off, pulling out their slimy entrails and tossing them into the bin.
Soon after, I leave his stall with a couple of wholesome fish and a bag full of guts and heads and bits. I visit various other stalls, collecting some old fruit and vegetables, some meat, some bread and so on. The baker is a randy old goat, must be nearly seventy, so I deliberately visit the cheese stall opposite and bend over, letting my tarty skirt ride up and show my bum. Sure enough when I go to his stall he gives me a lecherous wink and says, "You're as gorgeous as ever Pauline, nice knickers you've got there, eh?". So I pop round the back and let him give me a feel. He sticks a finger under my thong and rubs me softly, with a really surprising delicacy of touch, and says quietly, "I'm not what I used to be, takes me too long to get it up now or I'd really give you one, gorgeous". I rub his cock through his trousers, it's true he doesn't get really hard although he does respond. "Some other time, sweetheart, I've got work to do. But thanks for making an old man's day."
The cheese stall is altogether a different case. It's run by a gorgeous young guy, about 25, with a beautiful body, black hair, and always the beginnings of a black beard. As usual he's wearing tight jeans showing off his nice big cock, and a tight sweatshirt. His looks must double his sales. Sometimes his girlfriend works with him too - she's pretty sexy too - but today he seems to be in his own. "Hi Pauline", he says, "you're looking pretty good today". He's already seen me at the baker's stall opposite, I let him see plenty of me. Sexy girlfriend or not, I know he can't resist a nice bottom. "Yeah, you're looking pretty good yourself. Looks like you're pleased to see me". He can't help looking down, and it's absolutely true! The bulge in his jeans has doubled in size. He doesn't have any customers, so I dart round to the back of his stool, take him behind his van, and give him a big French kiss while stroking his sexy bulge. His hands lift my skirt and rubs my cheeks, then slips a finger inside me. "Pauline, you bad girl, you've got cum inside you. I think you need a spanked bottom". Oh no! Well, actually it won't be the first time. I bend over - for the second time - and feel his hand striking me. He is really good at it, hard enough to sting and hurt a bit but not enough to be really painful. At least at first. After about eight strokes it's beginning to sting very nicely and I'm beginning to make a bit of a noise, and I'm getting very excited. Suddenly I feel his giant cock inside me, thrusting deep in and out, in and out, he keeps going for ages and I'm going wild. Finally I feel him getting ready to come and I start to rub my rock-hard little clit. We both cry out together, it's a good job the market is a noisy place, special thanks to the fruit-and-veg man next door who is yelling at the top of his voice. His orgasm never seems to stop, it feels like his cum will soon be filling my throat. When he has finished I kneel down and lick him clean, he hardens up straight away and I'm sure he would come again but he needs to get back to work. I give him another big juicy kiss and disappear around the back of the market, so it isn't too obvious. My bum stings like mad and his cum is really running in streams down my thighs, soaking the thin patch of my thong. I'm so turned on, it's like I'm crazy, and I tuck myself into a little gap between two vans and rub myself off again. When I see him again a couple of minutes later, serving a middle-aged customer as if nothing has happened, he slips me a huge piece of Danish Blue. This is my favourite cheese, it must be one of the messiest "normal" foods there is, it really stinks. I don't think anyone would eat it (well, except me of course!) if it didn't come in a little package saying "it's OK to eat this stuff".
It's getting late now and the market is starting to close down. This is my favourite time, when there's all sorts of stuff to be had very cheap or for nothing at all. Unfortunately there are too many people now who know me here, I can't do what I used to when I was student, when I'd kneel down and licked all kinds of squashed messes off the ground. (I confess there are times when I go to other markets just so I can do this, anonymously, just some nut-case in the crowd). But I do manage to salvage a few things, some half-squashed fruit and scraps of burger, that I'll put to good use later. I'm just thinking about calling it a day when one of the clean-up lads wolf-whistles at me. He's probably not even eighteen, he's still spotty, I turn to him and give him a big smile and say something. I don't think he was expecting that, he kind of half stammers and half mumbles, eventually coming out with, "Really nice shoes". A foot fetishist in the making! If he isn't now then he soon will be. I flirt with him a bit.
"Yeah? What do you like about them?"
"Well, you know" (he mumbles, he's dead embarrassed, I can barely understand what he says), "your toes, they're really pretty, and, well, high-heels, you know, they're sexy". I flirt with him some more, getting him really interested, encouraging him. Meanwhile I've been leading him into a little alcove at the back of the stalls. Then I let it drop...
"Would you like to kiss my toes?" He goes bright red, really mumbles so I can't understand, but the bulge in his dirty jeans says everything.
"Go on, get down on your knees and kiss my toes". He hesitates and it takes a bit more encouragement, but eventually he gets onto his knees.
"Come on, a nice big French kiss, with your lips and tongue, just like you kiss your girlfriend. Not just my toes, my whole foot, and the shoes too, lick them all over." He's doing as I say, doing a good job. I lift one foot slightly off the ground, leaning against the wall. "Lick my heel. Come on, suck it, suck it like your girlfriend sucks your cock". He's getting quite carried away, he puts his mouth around my heel and sucks. "OK, enough. Get your cock out. Wank yourself all over my shoes." That takes a bit more encouragement too, but he does get it out - not very big but absolutely rock hard. In a few seconds he is spurting all over my shoes, my toes and my feet. Maybe he doesn't have a girlfriend, if he does it's a while since he's seen her! Then he's finished, on his knees looking very embarrassed and a bit silly. "Now use it to polish my shoes. With your tongue. Come on, don't just kneel there, lick it up. It won't hurt you." He does. When he has finished I tell him to stand and give him a big kiss on his cum-tasting mouth. "That was really nice. You did a good job". He is speechless, shocked. I leave him standing there in a daze, most likely with a whole new sexual world in front of him.
And now it really is time to go. It's well into the afternoon. Back home, I stash away all the things I've got from the market. I'm really pleased with my new outfit, it's been a huge success. Despite being fucked twice and groped a good few times, nobody ever noticed what I'd done with my rings and the chain. It's beginning to hurt a bit now, so I take it off, but it felt good while I was walking around. My new thong is soaked in cum, and it's still running down my thighs too. I wipe it with my fingers and lick them clean. I put my feet up and admire them, I really like the shoes, with my pretty painted toe-nails peeping out. I start to rub myself lazily, reliving my day at the market, thinking of the cheese man's monster cock inside me, until eventually of course I come again, softly this time.
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly as I potter round doing odds and ends. Soon it's time to start getting ready for my evening with Bianca. I'm going to take her to normal places with normal people, so I need to think carefully about what to wear. I don't want to get thrown out (actually there's not much chance of that, they know me well), but I certainly don't want to be too normal either! I'm tempted to keep my new skirt, but maybe it's a bit too tarty. So in the end I just keep the new shoes, which I've really fallen in love with, and a short black leather skirt. I suppose that's tarty too, but in a different way. For a top I finally decide on a red latex body, mainly because it will give Bianca something to talk about. Oh alright, it's because it's a real turn-on too. It's really tight so even though I'm not wearing a bra, my tits don't jiggle around. A jacket, black tights and a bit of cheap jewelry finish off the outfit. I pick Bianca up at home, she's dressed the same as before, the same wonderful white high-heels, the same short lycra skirt, a white cotton shirt with loops for the buttons so her skin shows through between the buttons as well as at her belly button. She's very sexy. I give her a big smacky kiss on the lips. I can tell she doesn't quite know what to make of it, we're kind-of lovers but she still isn't used to the idea. So I grope her bum, she's wearing a little thong, and slip a finger into it and rub her pussy. She remembers what we did last time, and gives me a big deep French kiss. "Ooh Pauline, you're wicked, I like it when you do that. Where are goin'? Will I be alright like this? Do you like me shirt? It's new, I just got it." I tell her she'll be great, and lick and nibble a couple of the little bubbles of pink skin between the buttons. She's already damp, I push a finger into her then use that to start rubbing her clit, as I give her a deep kiss again. In fact she's not just damp, she's full of cum. I hold my finger to her lips and say, "Who did this then?"
"Oh Pauline, Darren come round, 'e wanted to say sorry, an' 'e's a little cunt an' all, but, I still fancy 'im like mad, an' well, you know, my Mum weren't back yet, an' ... well, you know."
"Did you come?"
"No, I mean I like 'im in me, it feels good, but 'e's, you know, two tics an' it's all over." Yep, that's my experience too, but I'm not quite ready to tell her yet. "But it just feels real good, an', well, you know, I couldn't say no." She grins sheepishly. What a girl! I put my fingers back and rub her again. I feel her starting to squirm but then she pulls away from me and says, "'Ere Pauline, go easy, my mum'll see and she don't know nuffin' about me bein' a bit of a lezzy now". She giggles but looks back at the house. So I take her round to the side where we can't be seen from inside. Now I can bend her over, push up her tiny skirt, and slip three fingers inside her while I rub her clit. She's full of cum and it feels good.
"You're a bit of a bad girl, you know that?"
"Sorry Pauline, I can't 'elp meself, I mean, it feels so good, an' what's the 'arm?" My feelings exactly. I slip my fingers out of her and press my well-lubricated forefinger to her little anus, teasing her open. She's dry there, almost anyway, there's a slippery film of mucus. "He didn't go in here then?", I ask, slipping my finger deep inside her.
"No, you know, noone's never done that to me, no bloke anyway, only you. Blimey Pauline, that feels good. Oooh." With my other hand, I pinch her clit gently between my thumb and finger, teasing and tugging until she starts to cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Oww. Ooh. Oh, stop, it 'urts. Oh no, don't stop, ow, ow, owww, ooh, that's good." I'm pinching her harder and harder to see how she reacts, but she just carries on enjoying it, the little slut. Her skinny little bottom is really turning me on, her concave cheeks divided by the scarlet thong. I slip my finger out of her anus and suck it, then start rubbing her bum.
"Have you ever been spanked, Bianca? I mean, you've been a bad girl."
"Yeah, a bit. I 'ad a boyfriend once liked to smack my bum. It was quite sexy really." That's all I needed, I start to hit her gently at first, once on each cheek until the skin reddens, then I hit harder until she's crying out with each stroke but still remaining perfectly in place. Between strokes I rub her pussy and her clit. My last few strokes are pretty hard and leave a distinct handprint each time, making her really cry out loud. Finally I slip a couple of fingers into her and rub her hard little clit quite roughly until she screams out, sobbing and collapsing completely onto my arm. Just when it seems she has stopped, I pinch her clit hard and she's off again.
When her sobs have stopped I hold her tight, kissing her willing lips hard. She's soaked, her hair is like she just had a shower and her skin is wet and salty. "Fuck me Pauline," (I wish I could!), "that was brilliant. I've never come like that before. Never. 'Ow d'you do it?" She's trembling so hard she can barely stand, and still sobbing and moaning as she breathes.
"Time for dinner", I say, and we leave for a cozy pub I know. She's still shaking as she lights a cigarette, and her first vodka-orange disappears in a single gulp. After another drink we leave for my favourite Italian restaurant. It's a small, family type of place that I first went to - paid by someone else - soon after coming to London. These days I can - thank goodness - afford to pay my own way in restaurants when I want to. Of course I still love to do the messy eating thing, and eating rubbish food for nothing, but I enjoy a good meal in a nice restaurant too. It's probably difficult for other people to understand. Gino, the owner, welcomes me Italian style with a big kiss that is more than just friendly, and gives us a quiet corner table where we can sit close together. Over our drinks and dinner I learn quite a bit about Bianca and her life. She had her first fuck at fourteen and has had plenty more since. Her little fling with Darren is strictly a short-term thing - thank goodness, he's a real shit - she only met him a week ago and has already worked out that he's no good. She works in a warehouse, strictly a thank-god-it's-time-to-go-home type of job but for the odd knee-trembler with a van driver between the shelving. Her mum brought her up on her own, her Dad was never around although she sees him once in a blue moon (which is more than I ever did, the bastard). Home life was a succession of "uncles" who never lasted more than a few weeks. Actually her mum sounds quite interesting too, maybe I should try to get to meet her as well! After all she's not much older than I am, she was only 17 when she had Bianca. I give Bianca a highly selective version of my life story, telling her about my nursing days and what a great time they were for sex but keeping off the messy stuff. For now, anyway. She's fascinated by my tales of gang bangs and other behind-the-scenes goings on at the hospital. I tell her how when I was her age I used to go whoring in the local hotels, for fun as well as for money. She's jealous and intrigued and a bit repelled by it all at the same time. I don't tell her what I do for a living these days, and for now anyway she doesn't think to ask.
She's fascinated by my rubber top, as I'd hoped. "I've got a mate 'oo's got a rubber dress, a black one. It looks real sexy an' stuff, she says it feels nice at first but it gets all itchy. An' it's murder to get on an' off, I know 'cos I 'elped 'er once." I tell her how much I like it, how sexy it feels when you first put it on, and how sexy it feels after a few hours when you're slithering round in the sweat inside it, and how good it feels when someone touches you through it, and how sexy it looks. I like wearing rubber, as you can probably tell. Bianca touches it, fascinated by the feel. I encourage her to be a bit more adventurous and rub my tits through it, I love it when she teases my nipples with her nails until they stand out huge through the tight red rubber. (I admit it, I told her how to do it). Now she can't keep her hands off, she's caressing and rubbing, squeezing my tits, running her fingertips over the rubber. "Is it expensive? I ain't got very much money, but I wouldn't 'alf like sumfin' like that". I tell her that most of my really nice clothes - including this - have been presents from lovers (well, it's very close to the truth). By the time we finish dinner we're both getting very hot - literally for me, inside the rubber. I can't resist running my fingers up and down the little patches of flesh between her shirt buttons, fingers that I've just lubricated in her pussy. I rub her little clit under the table, but I have to stop when her mouth opens and she starts gasping. We decide we'd better leave before we get carried away.
Next stop is a kink-friendly club a few miles away, out Kilburn way. There's bit of everything there, gay, of both sexes, rubber and fetish, goth, and straight couples too. We dance together for a while before finding a dark corner where we can kiss and cuddle. I bring her gently to another orgasm with my fingers while stifling her cries with my mouth. For the first time this evening she slips her hand inside the tight leather of my skirt and up my thighs. "'Ere, you've got... I mean, I can touch your pussy". She grins, and I grin back. "Of course. I never cover it up if I can help it. It makes things a lot easier, you know".
"You're a one, Pauline, you really are. I bet there's nuffin' you 'aven't done". She's wrong of course, there are loads of things I haven't done, but there are plenty I have done that she wouldn't guess. She's rubbing my clit with one hand and caressing my body and tits with the other while deep-kissing me. I delay for as long as possible to savour the pleasure, but of course I'm soon coming and this time it's her mouth that suppresses my cries - not that anyone would hear with the music. We get drinks and relax - we can't really talk because of the noise. I spot a guy across the room, he's about 22, good looking, he's with a girl but it doesn't look as though things are going too well. I point him out to Bianca and say, "Go on, see if you can get him to fuck you. Here in the club. I'll give you half an hour". She objects a bit but soon she heads over to him, trips over his feet, and then she's dancing with him. I leave her to get on with it. His girlfriend looks really pissed off, but soon another guy shows up and within minutes she's a changed person, smiling and animated and it's not long before they're all over each other. I get picked up a couple of times and dance but the guys don't do much for me and I'm still getting my breath back anyway, so I sit and watch. Bianca is back just inside the allotted half hour, standing proudly in front of me. I slide a finger inside her but she's just damp, no cum. I look up at her questioningly, and she giggles and takes a used condom from her tiny bag. "'E insisted", she says. "I told 'im 'e didn't 'ave to or nuffin', but 'e said it was for 'is girlfriend". How thoughtful! Shame she isn't his girlfriend any more, but still. I wipe a finger inside it and suck it. Bianca pulls a face, so I push a second finger-full to her mouth. "Don't you swallow?", I ask. "Well, yeah, but like that, well, it's a bit disgustin', innit? I mean, that's different, it's not sumink you eat, is it?". What can I say? "Why not, I like it. Go on, lick it off my finger." I push my finger between her lips, she grimaces, then licks, and smiles at me. "You're right, it's, well, sexy, innit?". So I turn the condom inside out and hold it to her mouth to lick it. She hesitates, but not for long, and makes exaggerated, theatrical tongue strokes just like when she flat-licked my cunt.
"You're mad, Pauline. You're so fuckin' kinky an' stuff. I love it. What do we do next?"
"Let's try for a threesome".