Clarification: All characters in the sex scenes described in this work of fiction are above the legal age of consent in your state or country.
"You're not fucking going out like that, you slut!" Screamed Bunny's mum as she made her way to the door of their small flat. "You look like a fucking whore!"
"Oh fuck off, Mum!" Bunny screamed back at her mum. "I'll wear what I fucking like!"
"Or not wear! Don't you have any fucking knickers? Or are you gonna show your cunt to every fucker?"
"Fuck off!" Sneered Bunny. "You can't tell me what to fucking do or wear!"
She glanced at her image in the hall mirror, half of which was obscured by piles of old magazines her mum hadn't bothered to chuck out. Her face was heavily mascara'd and her lips were painted a very deep purple, but no amount of make-up could disguise the dark freckles around her nose and forehead. Her light brown hair was pulled off her face and held back by a large clip. Although they couldn't be seen in the mirror, she sported brown, rubber-sole boots laced half-way up her calf. She also wore a black sleeveless tee-shirt with the word 'CUNT' artistically arranged in the middle of it, but it wasn't that which annoyed her mum. It wasn't her fault if the old cow couldn't keep up with fashion, but Bunny knew that if you didn't flash the gash in this neighbourhood you were fucking nobody, girlfriend! And it wasn't as if she shaved it like some tarts. She kept the hair long enough so you had to get real close to be sure you could see the lips and clit and all. And her inner lips didn't drop out like some fucking inner tube like some sad bitches.
"Don't be back late!" yelled her mum, as Bunny slammed the door behind her and made her way out of the estate, past the graffiti on the walls and discarded needles and rubbers in the gutter, towards the spot by the park where she and her gang would meet for their night out. And there they were, or at least some of them, hanging out by the park bench near the lamp post where they'd carved their gang's initials.
There was Puss, with her shaved gash, fat-thighed Rosanne and skinny, hairy twatted Dilly. The three girls sat around bored and sullen, knickerless, booted and with similar sleeveless tee-shirts. Puss looked up from her desultory stroking of the smooth shaven skin of her crotch and smiled at Bunny as she approached.
"Yo, Bun! Give it up, Girl!"
"Hey, girlfriend. Wassup?" responded Bunny kissing Puss on the cheek.
"Tongues, slut. Giss the tongues. Then I know you love me!"
"Just the tongue?" wondered Bunny, but giving Puss the full-on tongue to tongue that marked the gang's closeness. The warm, liquid, toothy taste of burger. She pulled Puss to her as the two battled their tongues together.
"Hey, tart! Don't you love me, too?" asked Dilly, pushing her face into the melee. "Giss tongue!"
And there the three were, watched by Rosanne who liked a bit of tongue but not so much as the others, as they took tongue to cheek to tooth, and rubbed each others' backs as they did so, hands under each others' tee-shirts, until, a few minutes later, their tongues sore from the probing, they pushed each other off and sank back onto the park bench.
"So, how's it, Bun?" asked Rosanne, puffing on her joint. "Good day at school? Fucked any good boys?"
"Wouldn't you fucking like to know, Ro?" Bunny replied. "My cunt's so fucking sore and so fucking dripping you couldn't tell it apart from fucking brillo."
"Yeh. Right!" Rosanne agreed, not pursuing the subject further.
The four girls squeezed together on the bench staring out across the park as the shadows grew longer over the grass, the odd glint reflecting from the discarded condoms and broken glass. It was gonna be a normal night out tonight, Bunny could see. Her and her gang, and maybe the other girls, Snoot and Lizzie, out in the park with a few beers, a few boys and a few laughs. But just now there was nothing much to do. No drugs, 'cept the blow that Dilly passed round, and no sex, 'cept the tongues that didn't really count. Fuck it! If it weren't in the twat, it weren't nothing.
"Hey, Bun! Girlfriend! It's lager time," Dilly asserted. "We want some amber in the long tubes. And sweetheart. Hey. Don't you know it? It's your turn!"
"Oh fuck it! I'm sure it was last time."
"Don't fucking lie, you cunt!" disagreed Puss, pushing her pale face into Bunny's. "It's your turn, and you fucking know it. It was me last time. And I still can taste Mo's fucking sperm in my mouth!"
Bunny concurred reluctantly and just as reluctantly made her way to Mo Patel's Liquor Store, a run-down establishment not too far from the park. She hung around outside, puffing a ciggie while Mo served a customer, examining her skinny reflection in the window. Finally, and not before fucking time, the old man Mo had been serving shuffled out, and before the door slammed shut, Bunny burst in, discreetly turning round the card reading 'Open', so that it now read 'Closed'.
"It's tittie time!" Bunny announced, pulling up her tee-shirt to show off her long nippled, but otherwise rather small breasts. Mo, a stout Asian who clearly needed a sharper razor blade with which to shave his chin, smirked at the sight of a girl more than young enough to be his daughter.
"You'll be wanting more of the usual, you rascal?" he asked. "It's not gonna be no cheaper."
"Yeah! Yeah!" agreed Bunny, stepping around to the back of the shop where Mo was leading her, and grimacing as he pulled down his pants and jockeys to reveal a fat, heavy prick already swelling with anticipation. "Let's fucking get down to it!"
And so, behind the bamboo netting which divided the beer cans and packets of Marlboro from those in the store room, Bunny got down on her knees on the rough nylon rug, wiped her lips with the back of her hand and got down to business. A blow job was all it cost for an armful of ciggies and lager, and a blow job was what Mo was getting. He leaned back, supporting his bulk on a chipped, wooden table as Bunny ran her tongue up and down the length of his prick, stroking his balls with her fingers, and watched it grow and swell, the veins pumping up and pressing contours into her lips. And then, mouth fully open, she pulled his prick into her mouth while his heavy, hairy hands groped around her tee-shirt for the tiny titties he so enjoyed massaging. Bunny's mind was as much on this prick as it was on thoughts of her school day and the boys she'd fucked with and how different their younger, smoother pricks were to this old fuck's. And then she felt the spasms of his penis, and knew that she had to move fast to both release Mo's come and to stop him staining her black tee-shirt. She didn't want Mo's sperm on the 'CUNT' on her chest anymore than she'd want it on the cunt between her legs.
And soon she was back with the gang, laden down with Marlboros, Bensons, Kronenbergs and Buds. Snoot and Lizzie had turned up now and were sitting on a patch of grass, passing joints around. Snoot was totally bald, more the result of chemotherapy for her leukaemia than as a fashion statement, and Lizzie was wearing one of her floppy hats which obscured most of her face, and above all the scar over her eye she'd got at that night club once.
"Yo, girlfriend!" Snoot cried. "Liquid refreshment. Gimme! Gimme!"
"Yeah. Wow! Give it up girl!" chorused Lizzie, scratching the ragged strands of her crotch.
And so the evening proceeded, six girls in the park, necking it down, choking on nicotine, phlegming on the tarmac and pissing by the bushes. The blow made them giggle, the beer made them piss and the dusk turned them into shadows.
"Fuck! My cunt itches!" declared Lizzie. "What it needs is a good seeing to! Ain't there no dicks round here when you need one?"
"What you need is the good old lip suction, baby," diagnosed Puss. "I'd do it, but I'm too busy rolling a fat one. How's about you, Bun? D'you need some fish supper after Mo's hot dog and juice?"
Bunny was more than obliging. The taste of cunt wasn't an offer she'd often turn down. "You just hold me off, Puss. There ain't nothing in the world that I couldn't do more with than rock salmon pie!"
Lizzie's wasn't the tastiest vagina she'd ever tongued. That honour was still held by Dilly, but Dilly was never as keen as Bunny was. But Lizzie's was a good one. Still quite smooth lipped, nothing hanging out, and the hair was relatively short so it didn't get up her nose like Rosanne's did. Bunny was on her knees a second time this evening, while Lizzie spread her knees allowing Bunny's tongue full access to the folds and smells of fresh young vulva. As she busied herself, ass out in the air, knees resting on grass, passers-by could easily see what she was up to and discreetly averted their eyes so as not to attract the taunts and insults of the Westmoreland Park Posse.
"So, girlfriend. What's it tonight?" speculated Puss, lighting up her joint. "Cod? Haddock? Roe?"
Bunny raised her head: saliva and warm cunt juice trickling down her tongue. "Nah! It's the finest caviar! You can see the little black eggs in there!"
"I fucking hope not, Bun!" exclaimed Lizzie. "I ain't had nothing wrong with me down there for weeks. And I ain't never had warts neither. Not like fucking Snoot."
"They weren't warts!" Snoot disagreed. "I don't know what it was, but it weren't warts!"
And then the girls were back together huddled in the dark, jeering and laughing and cackling and puffing and swigging. Bunny was feeling a little shagged. A blow job and a tonguing and she was already a bit tired. Her mouth ached, but her cunt itched, so she knew there was more to do tonight to satisfy her urges.
.... There is more of this story ...