Nandita To Nandini
- 3 years ago
- 240
- 0
Two Thousand And Ten Ch. 02 free porn video
Author’s note:
Welcome to the second chapter of Two Thousand and Ten – the tale of a year in the life of two friends from a seaside town in southern England. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the following chapter is purely a work of fiction, my character names are chosen totally at random, and no resemblance to any person (living or dead), or any company/organisation, is intended and entirely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age. Please also remember that the author wishes to retain the right to use artistic licence whenever he wishes!
Hope you enjoy chapter two!
Two Thousand and Ten
Chapter Two – March & April
Monday March 1st 2010 – 10:24am
It was that time of year in England when daffodils seem to be growing everywhere. The cheerful yellow blooms that spring up in every park, garden, public space and even traffic islands and roundabouts, were messengers that spring was on its way and the drab, grey darkness of the English winter would soon be replaced with the vibrant colours of springtime. It wouldn’t be long until the straggly, skeletal trees came back to life and painted the landscape with a wash of a million different shades of green. England wasn’t called a ‘green and pleasant land’ for nothing.
But that would be a few weeks away yet. However, the daffodils were the clearest indication that change was in the air.
Lindi looked out at the carpet of yellow blooms in the flowerbed outside the staff room window. She was savouring her third cup of instant coffee of the day during her morning break between lessons. Her year 11 pupils were doing well, and she had high hopes of their success in the forthcoming exams. Her year 7 pupils were up next that morning, they were settling into life at secondary school quite nicely now and already she had identified one or two star pupils. But she was always mindful not to single them out for too much of her attention. Although she would quietly inform them of her after-school history club that she held for an hour every Tuesday.
She was also mindful about keeping her male students engaged. There had been a growing achievement gap between girls and boys for many years, part of which was, in Lindi’s opinion, due to the introduction of the GCSE curriculum in the late 1980’s.
It was obvious to her that the current curriculum was more in tune with the way girls learned than the way boys did. The gap between the sexes wasn’t that the boys were any less intelligent than the girls, just that they learnt differently and the current system didn’t seem to work for them. The GCSE, or General Certificate of Secondary Education curriculum had replaced the old O-levels in the late 1980’s and far more emphasis was placed on coursework than the final exam. The meticulousness required to maintain a good standard of coursework played much more to the strengths of the girls than it did to the boys who always used to thrive better when the clear goal of the final exam was more of a deciding factor than it is today.
She had aired her concerns many times at teaching conferences and through letters to the Department for Education and the government’s Education Secretary. Each time though, the answers she received all boiled down to a simple message. That message being in essence a rather dismissive ‘Yeah, and?? Your problem being what exactly?’ This apparent malaise regarding the issue of male underachievement both confused and concerned her. She didn’t like to buy into Peter’s joking conspiracy theory that the Department for Education, and the government at large for that matter, was under the influence of some kind of shadowy feminist illuminati, but sometimes she did wonder if there was a grain of truth to it somewhere.
‘Drrrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnngggg!!!’
The bell sounded throughout the classrooms and corridors of the school signaling that it was time for the next lesson. Lindi drained the remainder of her coffee, rinsed her mug out in the sink and headed back to her classroom. Today’s subject for her youngest pupils was King Henry VIII and his six wives. She always remembered the little mantra she had learned when she herself was at school to remember the order of Henry’s Queens ultimate fates: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.
Monday, March 1st 2010 – 12:09pm
Peter had been on a dizzying high for several days now – ever since he had spent three days having sex with Alison at the flat the lesbian shared with her partner, Becky. He finally felt like a real man – in his mind he was an alpha male who had rutted with a female and, hopefully, successfully fertilised her. It would be a few weeks yet before he would know if their union had been successful but he was optimistic about the possibility of becoming a father, even if he was destined not to be a full-time parent. After having sex eighteen times she damned well ought to be pregnant, Peter mused.
He focused his attention back to his work – or at least, he tried to. He was due to attend the annual conference of the Royal Institute of Chartered Mechanical Engineers, which was being held in Nottingham in April. He had been requested by the committee to make a presentation on ‘manufacturing technology in the digital age’ but he was struggling to maintain sufficient attention on what he was doing. His mind kept wandering back to the events of a few days earlier when he had his penis buried inside a woman for the very first time.
He looked at the Powerpoint slides on his desktop computer, an especially powerful machine designed to be able to run the very latest CAD and 3D mechanical stress analysis software. He had been at it for ages and yet still the slides looked like a load of dull and uninspired crap.
‘Oh, this is bloody hopeless!’ He exclaimed, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. What he needed was a break. What he needed was something to take his mind off the subject of sex.
What he really needed, the little nagging voice in his head told him, was a wank.
He immediately tried to dismiss that thought but it turned out to be infuriatingly insistent. The pressure caused by the erection in his pants was becoming too much to comfortably endure.
He tried to focus on his work but it was just no use.
‘Dammit!!’ He said through gritted teeth.
He got up from his desk and made for his office door. Just in time, he realised that his current state of arousal would most likely be visible through his trousers, so thinking quickly, he grabbed a sheaf of papers and drawings and held them in front of him to hide his obvious tumescence from view. Carrying drawings around was something he did all the time anyway so it would attract very little attention from the junior members of staff that occupied the large open-plan office space that lay beyond the privacy of Peter’s single office.
Once past the twenty or so desks that stood between his office and the stairwell, he descended as quickly as he could. He could have used the toilets on the second floor but since they were the nearest to the office they would likely be busy. Not wanting to be disturbed, Peter instead opted to go down into the basement where there was a single unisex toilet cubicle situated next to the boiler room. He wouldn’t be disturbed there.
This is crazy! Peter thought to himself as he flicked on the light and locked the toilet door, he was contemplating having a wank on company time – if anyone ever found out about this the consequences could be dire indeed and at the very least very embarrassing. But it was that slightly dangerous notion that excited him even more.
He unzipped his flies and slid his trousers halfway down. His underpants followed a few moments later, his aching erection springing free from its prison of cotton and elastic. Peter looked down to see a silvery stain of precum adorning the black material of his
designer briefs.
There was no fantasy required this time. He simply grabbed hold of his drippingly erect penis and started pumping furiously. The constant drone of the extractor fan would muffle any involuntary sounds he might make while he relieved himself of his pent-up sexual desire so he could concentrate on trying to coax himself to orgasm as quickly as possible. There wasn’t time to hang around.
In fact, Peter found himself pumping away at his penis so hard and fast that the precum that had collected between the head of his penis and his foreskin had changed from a crystal-clear strand of pre-ejaculate fluid, into a white froth, which seemed to make his erection appear like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.
With a feeling of more than a little relief, Peter felt his climax approaching. He took his fist pumping down from top gear and slowed things down a little as he felt the familiar feeling of semen welling up in his loins, ready for ejaculation.
When it arrived, his orgasm was nothing special. He stiffened his body, squirted his semen directly into the waiting toilet bowl and after only a few seconds it was all over. Peter relaxed with a sigh and held his hands against the wall opposite him to hold himself up as he panted and gasped for air as if he had just run in the 200m final at the Olympics.
It wasn’t the greatest orgasm he had ever felt, not even close to what he had experienced so very recently with Alison, but the release of pent-up tension and hormones was enough at least to scratch the itch. For now at least.
Peter cleaned himself up with some toilet paper, pulled his pants back up, zipped up his trousers and straightened his tie. He checked in the mirror that nothing was out of place, washed his hands, flushed the toilet and headed back upstairs to his office.
Monday, March 1st 2010 – 6:33pm
‘You did what??’ Lindi giggled as she sat down to dinner in Peter’s top floor flat.
‘I’m serious.’ Peter said as he sat opposite his friend, ‘I just couldn’t concentrate on my work.’
‘Yeah, but three times? THREE bloody times??’ Lindi laughed, ‘You’re seriously telling me you masturbated three times today while you should’ve been working!’
‘I couldn’t help it!’ Peter said in his defence, ‘It worked for a little while and I would be able to concentrate on my work for a bit. But it would wear off and I found myself back at square one.’
‘Yeah but THREE times??’
‘Ever since I had sex with Alison I’ve been unable to think about anything else!’
‘What have I created?!?’ Lindi laughed, ‘I have unwittingly released a raging horny sex-beast into the community! Look out ladies, Peter the sex monster is coming to get you!’
‘Lindi!’ Peter said to try and rein his friend in.
‘Better make sure you don’t leave the house without wearing your armour-plated knickers and carrying your loudest rape alarm!’ Lindi continued jokily, ‘Because Peter the rampant cock-wielding sex demon will try and have his way with you and rape you in the bushes!’
‘Leave it out Lin!’ Peter groaned.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help myself!’ Lindi said as she fought against her fit of giggles.
If only Lindi could’ve seen how prophetic her joking would turn out to be…
‘I have to say though,’ Lindi said once she had regained her composure, ‘that watching you and Alison having sex together was the sexiest thing I have ever seen! It just made me realise how long it’s been since I last had a man inside me. Believe it or not, I actually felt a little bit jealous at the time.’
‘Jealous? What, because I was having sex?’ Peter said, ‘Or did you wish that it was you in Alison’s place?’
‘What, having sex with you? Eww!!’ Lindi said. It occurred to her immediately after saying that short sentence that she hadn’t really meant what she had said.
‘You know what I meant!’ Peter sighed, ‘I meant did you picture yourself as the one having sex with a man? And by that I mean any man.’
‘I guess so.’ Lindi said, ‘It just felt a little unfair that you were getting some action and not me.’ She knew she was lying to herself – she had wished she was the one underneath Peter. But that very thought seemed so counter-intuitive to her. She couldn’t allow herself to think of Peter in this way, it was wrong, he was like a brother to her, she reasoned.
‘How long has it been?’ Peter said, ‘If you don’t mind my asking.’
‘Too long.’ Lindi said, ‘If you must know, whilst we’re opening ourselves up on the subject of sex, the last time I had sex was two years ago.’
‘Who were you dating at the time?’ Peter asked.
‘Daniel, remember him?’
‘What, Dan-Dan the photocopier man?’ Peter recalled her pet-name for the photocopier toner salesman she had been going out with at the time.
‘The very same.’
‘Was he any good?’ Peter asked cheekily.
‘I can’t believe you just asked me that!’ Lindi gasped with a slight slap on Peter’s wrist.
‘Well, was he?’ Peter replied.
‘He was fantastic if you must know.’ Lindi said, ‘His cock was a beauty and boy, did he know how to use it!’
‘So what went wrong then? If he was that good in bed, why did you stop seeing him?’
‘Well, like I said before, he just couldn’t live up to you, my ‘yardstick’ – that and the fact that he admitted that he hates horror films!’ Lindi said, ‘And of course, he was a photocopier toner salesman who loved his job a bit too much – I mean, talk about boring!’
‘And you’ve not done it with anyone else since?’
‘The only thing that’s been inside me since Dan-Dan the photocopier man is my rabbit.’
‘Your rabbit??’ Peter gasped in mock-disgust, ‘I had no idea you were into bestiality!! But wouldn’t a bunny’s dick be a little on the small side for you?’
‘You know what I mean!’
‘Yes of course I do, I was only joshing with you!’ Peter chuckled, ‘I know perfectly well what a rabbit is. Remember, I’ve been feeling pretty inadequate when I compare myself to those things.’
‘Oh Peter, there isn’t a vibrator or dildo or anything else on Earth that could compare to a real penis.’ Lindi said, ‘I mean, a real penis is a living thing attached to a living, breathing man. A vibrator, no matter how well it’s made, can only ever be just a piece of plastic with a motor and some batteries in it. It can feel really good and do things a real penis can’t do but at the end of the day it just isn’t the same as the real thing.’
‘It’s great that we can talk so openly about sex,’ Peter said, ‘You know, without getting all embarrassed about it.’
‘Yeah, I guess it is.’ Lindi mused, ‘Anyway, last night I decided to do something about it. See if I can find myself a real man – present company excepted of course.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I already did it.’ Lindi said, ‘I signed up for online dating yesterday while you were up here convalescing from your sexual exertions.’
‘Well, taking positive steps I suppose.’ Peter said, ‘You had any bites yet?’
‘A few, but they were a bit too far away.’ Lindi said, ‘One was in Aberdeen for pity’s sake!’
‘I guess the website developers need to take a bit of time to refine their product.’
‘Probably.’ Lindi said, ‘Anyway, you ought to try online dating yourself. What you experienced with Alison is just a taster of what’s out there waiting for a nice man like you. Just make sure you don’t sign up for the same site as me.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, they might pair us up with each other!’ Lindi laughed.
‘Probably!’ Peter said, ‘Anyway, I already tried online dating. I got too nervous and never actually went on any dates.’
‘Yeah but surely your erm… coupling with Alison must’ve at least boosted your confidence.’
‘Well, I guess so.’ Peter reflected, ‘But I’d rather meet someone in real life.’
‘Well, you’re off to that conference of yours soon,’ Lindi said, ‘maybe you could try o
ut your new-found confidence and chat up some nice piece of skirt in one of Nottingham’s classy drinking establishments.’
‘Maybe.’ Peter answered simply.
Thursday, March 11th 2010 – 12:04pm
‘So how did your friend get on with that sister of mine?’ Michaela asked Lindi as they sat down to lunch together, ‘I know it was a little while ago but I’ve been meaning to ask and I just haven’t got around to asking yet.’
‘It was fine.’ Lindi said, and then continued in a hushed voice, ‘They were only having sex, what did you think was going to happen?’
‘I meant, did he respect her properly?’ Michaela said, ‘She told me it would be her first time. With a man, that is – I just wanted to be sure that he was gentle with her.’
Lindi thought for a second about telling Michaela that it had been Peter’s first time too but then thought better of it.
‘He was the perfect gentleman throughout the whole thing.’ Lindi said.
‘Well, I truly hope so.’ Michaela said, ‘Hang on a minute, you said he was ‘a perfect gentleman throughout’, you weren’t there at the time were you? While he was, y’know… actually doing it to her.’
‘No, don’t be daft!’ Lindi said in a blatant lie, ‘Alison told me afterwards.’
‘Oh yes, of course. Just letting my imagination run away for a second there!’ Michaela said with a sigh, ‘Anyway, I can’t wait to be an auntie. Let’s hope that Philip’s little wrigglers have done the job.’
‘Peter.’ Lindi said, ‘His name is Peter.’
‘Oh, of course it is.’ Michaela said, ‘I could’ve sworn you told me his name was Philip.’
‘Nope.’ Lindi replied simply.
Saturday, March 13th 2010 – 7:43pm
‘Testing, one-two, one-two.’ Lindi’s voice echoed through the back room of The Woodworkers – the epicentre of the local pub music circuit – as she set up and tested Peter’s microphone.
It was Young Lust’s first gig of the year and Lindi had volunteered, as always, to help Peter’s Pink Floyd tribute band set up. The band consisted of Terry on the drums in the Nick Mason role, Rich on bass and vocals as Roger Waters, Craig on keyboards and piano as Rick Wright and Peter on lead guitar and vocals as David Gilmour. The idea was not to look like the real Pink Floyd, but to sound as close as possible to the real thing – something that had taken years of practice to achieve.
‘How’s that sound to you?’ Lindi asked Peter as he set up his pedal board at her feet.
‘See if you can turn up the reverb a touch.’ Peter replied.
‘Sure, no problem.’ Lindi said, and then into the microphone she addressed the man behind the mixing desk, ‘Can you turn up the reverb a little, Dave!’
The man behind the desk twiddled a couple of knobs.
‘Try that!’ He called across to the stage where Lindi stood.
Lindi went through her ‘one-two, one-two’ routine once more as Peter, now behind her, connected his pedal-board to his amps and began powering everything up.
The Woodworkers had been a fixture in the East Sussex music scene since the mid 1970’s and had garnered a reputation as one of the finest small venues in the county. It was one of those places that many of Britain’s most successful bands had played at in their early days. The list of bands that had shoehorned themselves onto the small stage was like a roll call of British rock royalty. The likes of Oasis, The Manic Street Preachers, Coldplay, Blur, Radiohead and Muse had all played The Woodworkers over the years alongside countless others that hadn’t made it to the big time.
It had a makeshift dressing room in the basement, its walls festooned with signatures of those who had played the renowned venue in years gone by – it was the venue’s ‘visitor’s book’. Peter himself had scrawled his own name cheekily alongside that of Bobby Gillespie, the lead vocalist of Primal Scream and one of Peter’s idols. Only a few centimetres from that was written ‘Chris Martin – 1997 Thanks for having us!’
It would be a good gig tonight, Peter thought as he hooked up his guitar to the PA. Recent band rehearsals had gone well and they felt confident and tighter than ever. They had begun writing their own material – heavily influenced by Pink Floyd, naturally – and were hoping to give a few of their new songs their official debuts that night.
Julianne
- 16.02.2020
- 20
- 0
Andersonville 12 The Day Linda Anderson Came To Town
- 3 years ago
- 186
- 0
Randi s Vacation Part 3 of Randi
- 3 years ago
- 233
- 0
