Flaccid fraggle pops

Fiction

9 minute wank

Her visit to a London Fetish club was not what Matilde had planned on her way home to Paris. It’s a blistering hot Sunday afternoon, and Matilde Pascoe is a pale woman, untouchably so, with rose gold hair and a touch of crimson about the lips. She needed shade and ended up in one of London’s shadiest venues. A large tin hut down in Hackney Wick converted into sex playroom/tikihutbar/marriage counselling room, it was the venue of choice for a Dutch friend whom she desperately wanted to see.

So in the spirit of liberation, she got her top off and was surprised how quickly that felt quite normal to her. 

She was from France after all and, Mathilde like every young girl should be able to live in another city and go to a ‘sex club’ once if not more in her lifetime.

Her upper frame was slight, with curls in her hair, she had flowers on her body wrapped in transparent pink latex.

She is carrying stiletto’s in her bag and flipflops on her feet walking from Westfield Shopping centre to Hackney Wick through 60,000 Hammer fans leaving London Stadium. Finding her self in East London on her way back to Paris, via a connection at St Pancras, she felt vulnerable and regretted leaving the chilli spray at home. Clutching tightly to her trusty leather riding crop she pressed on in defiance to the wave of people forcing her backwards.

This is not the first time Matilde has found herself going in the opposite direction to the status quo. A travelled woman, she is often feigning interest in the ordinary. She can tell smell when men are trying to impress upon her. On this occasion it was a MD in a latex brief whom doesn’t care for cigarettes. But no sooner did Matilde affirm her dominance and preference for the Asian persuasion, polite topless chit chat ensued between Matilde and his rather more luxurious specimen of a wife.

However now she is still in the queue at this moment in the story.

Alone, taking in the heat, she makes polite gestures to topless men in harnesses in the queue. After being questioned what privilege she may be unassumingly bringing to the club today, she remarked,

“Astonishing beauty.”

Matilde, 44, is then schooled by a polite lady on the door, that she was a physically abled, woman of white privileges. (Matilde had just bunked the train to Stratford after all )

Matilde is sighing her way through the bag search because she, like most Dutch women, likes to get high, and thinks her stash is busted, thankfully to her white privileges she is inside a dark room listening to the thomp of a sound system in seconds.

A garden opened out with long benches and tables, a bar serving cold premade cocktails, plenty of drinking water, and 50 or so young horny students, that were dressed like they couldn’t tell the paddle from the pool. Within no time she is surrounded by faux leather pants sipping on a cold petal cocktail.

Matilde’s cautious behaviour is amplified by her broken English and François hubris. She’d never been asked what her pronoun was before and remarked,

“my pronoun is whatever. “

She thought their underwear looked cheap, most girls showcasing submissive chockers or fishnets with nothing caught in them but overweight white flesh.

Wondering around looking for her friend the Dutchess, Matilde remembers that all mobile phones on entry had stickers placed over the cameras, she gulped down her drink and was thankful none of this could ever pervade her memory or camera roll.

In no time she was sat opposite Dr latex pants’s misus, perfect enough to make you lower a book. Matilde is mesmerised at her brown protrusions. His wife is naked, albeit a black and red latex waist cincher. It wasn’t the nipples that caught her attention but a small bicycle tattoo to the left of her ribcage.

Matilde complements her surroundings of black with a pastel coloured hue to her skin, as the sun shines into the garden, the empress sits warmly naked opposite Matilde in the garden. The Empress is giggling her way through her cocktail as Matilde runs through her repertoire of secret beaches.

Sat next to Matilde, a Londoner dressed in a butcher’s apron sporting a flogger makes indiscriminate chit chat.

Matilde is talking French, when mid conversation the Dutchess arrives and the place is brimming. Matilde is saved from impending hasty butchery by the Dutchess needing to eat something.

The Dutchess, is wearing a black thick strapped balconette bra and harness and below a banana yellow swim suit knicker. She is complaining to Matilde she’s been up all night getting fucked and sore from 2 weeks sleeping in the back of her car traveling Wales.

They soon found earplugs and headed to the dance floor. A couple enter and divert Matilde’s attention away. One half is black and beautiful wearing striking blue and the other a pasty figure in latex stockings suspenders and black patent DM’s. Topless, sporting proud a rotund torso the pair locked eyes and wryly smile at one another.

This only titillates Matilde, she is vibing the place now it is awash with colour. Her body strong upon her legs, she watches as lines blur and time flys. The astute Dr and her husband are eyeing Matilde up across the dance floor and very quickly Matilde is in the queue for the ‘playroom’.

Not wanting to be non-consensual, Matilde blurted out in the queue,

” hey bicycle tits, I intent to eat your pussy.”

M.Pascoe

“Fine, anything but zombie dicking”.

Empress Wang

Matilde is following 4 people at this point around the play room for a suitable location. They find a cushioned bench against a wall and everyone is quickly to their knees. Matilde found herself quickly with empress in her mouth.

It’s hot and sweat pores from Dr Latex Pants as he watches Matilde blow off his wife, his hands starting to wonder all over both women.

This playroom can only temporarily shade Matilde before she is captivated by Dr LP’s throbbing hard perfect penis going into his wife’s mouth over and over again.

Matilde is slow to realise she is taking someone’s fingers inside her and it is not bicycle tits. The sneaky Dr LP. Rather shocked and curious she leans back and decides to take one for the NHS as this seemed to be pleasing the empress.

Dizzy with dicks Matilde encourages empress onto her knees and licks her fingers. She is as gentle as he is pervasive. The girls eyes lock and engines are running in high gear.

As Matilde regales the story of the playroom to the Dutchess outside in the fresh air the Dutchess is shocked to hear the only milk to come out of the encounter was sucked from the tits of little miss empress. Having recently given birth. They decide to have a farewell dance before Matilde catches her connecting train at St Pancras. The Dutchess tries to bid Matilde off with a shot but fails to force anything into Matilde’s mouth, she prefers the sweet scent of breastmilk to linger on her lips a petite longer.

The End.

We’ve all clapped for the NHS but THE clap for the NHS?