THE STORY SO FAR – London, the mid-1970s.
Justine was my first sight. She resisted my advances for months, insisting that she was only saving herself for the right man. She finally gave up her virginity and decided that she wanted to have sex with as many men as possible. Around the time I began seeing less of her, it was the time I had started to date Mansoura, an intriguing Iranian lawyer who lived upstairs.
Justine was waiting for me at the front of my Tufnell Park house just as I was about ringing the bell to get up to the top floor flat.
“Hi, “she smiled. “It’s all right, I’ll let you in.”
As she walked up the stairs, I was struck by her curvy arse and straight skirt. It was like a flash of an old desire that passed through me.
We reached the first floor and I asked, “So, how are you doing?”
“Oh, could be better.”
“Yeah… Got time for a drink?”
“For an old friend?” Justine grinned coyly.
“Oh, all right, then, go on. I’m a bit early, anyway.”
“Lucky for me, wine or beer?”
“Wine, please, what have you got?”
“Ah. Valpolicella up here and there’s a bottle of white in the fridge. Not sure what it is, though.”
Liebfraumilch oder Lutomar Riesling?That was what I thought. “I’ll stick with the red, thanks,” I smiled.
“You’re here for Miss Persia upstairs, I suppose?”
“I’m happy for you.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, you know…” And, unexpectedly, she started to sob.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” I asked, instinctively wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
“I’m going to get thrown off my course.”
“I failed my exams.”
“What, all of them?”
“Well, I did just about OK in Classical Mythology, but I bombed in Greek and Roman History and screwed up Greek and Roman Civilisation, as well as Drama, Literature and Philosophy.”
“Why was that? Too preoccupied?” I smiled.
She sniggered. “I just couldn’t concentrate on revising.”
“But you’ll have a chance for resits, though, right?”
“Yeah, if I bother.”
“What will you do if you don’t?”
“Get a job, I suppose.”
“I don’t know, in a museum. If not, I can always go on the game, can’t I?” she laughed. “Think about it, all that sex and getting paid for it, too.” She grimaced and shook her head, “Ugh, horrible thought. Anyway, how’s it all going with you and Miss Persia?”
“Fine. “Fine. We just see each other now and again.”
“That as well.”
“How is she? It’s good. Better than me?”
“My darling, no-one could ever be better than you.”
“….is the right answer.” She moved towards me, saying, “And so you win tonight’s star prize…” She straddled my lap and I could feel her cunt through the fabric of my jeans, “which is… me!” she laughed. And she gyrated in my groin.
“Do you think I deserve a prize like that?”
“Oh, I think so. You broke me in and made me realise how much I love sex.” She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me on the mouth, then slid to her knees, undid my belt, unzipped my jeans, pulled them down and slid my pants to my knees.
“Ummm,” she said and gripped the bottom of my now stiff cock, squeezed, then covered it with her mouth.
“Oh shit, that’s good,” I said
“You taught me well,” she whispered, her mouth still around my prick.
She released it and said, “Just let me look at it, remind myself of what I used to have. You know, you’ve still got the nicest one I’ve ever had. The first, of course. As well as the biggest.”
“Had a lot lately, have you?”
“A few, yeah. I’m doing OK.”
I was now completely awake, and she licked me the end. “Right, come on let’s get naked.”
She stood up, pulled the skirt back from the dark blue, and let it fall to her feet.
“Go on, your turn.”
I took my shirt off and stepped out from the pants and jeans that were already on me.
“Take my knickers off for me, would you, while you’re down there.”
I placed a thumb on each side of my waistband and pulled them down. I then savoured the freshness of the talcum powder I had always loved.
“Right this is us, then. Just like old times, eh?”
I was struggling to breathe and stood up.
“It’s OK, you don’t need a johnny, I’m on the pill now.”
“All in good time,” I grunted and went down on my knees behind her and pushed my face between her thighs, slid my tongue inside her and on to her clit, slipping my finger into her arsehole, which I knew she loved.
“Ooooh God, you bastard, you remember…”
I began to lick her softly and a flood of memories came flooding in as I pressed my nose into the cunt. I was struck by her sweet scent and salty taste. Her juices and sweat evoked the past in a moment similar to a Proustian madeleine.
All the moments we shared flashed before my eyes, the places we had made love; under an overcoat in Regent’s Park in broad daylight, under a rug during the open air evening concert at Kenwood House (I still get aroused every time I hear the melody from Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony), up against a tree on Parliament Hill Fields, late at night on the platform at Tufnell Park tube station, when there was no-one else around, under Hammersmith flyover after the Bruce Springsteen concert. Or the cottage that Mick and Rebecca shared in Cornwall. Then, Saturday night sex and The Prisoner on late evening TV.
“Ooooh, woooo,” she moaned, “you haven’t forgotten how…” her breathing became heavier and suddenly she froze and squealed, “Yes, yes, yes….. ohhh yeeeesss” and collapsed forward.
The sight of her, slumped over the chair, helpless, legs apart, her pink cunt open, aroused me to a full erection and she murmured as I ran my finger the length of her damp slit, “Yes, go on.”
Before I knew it, my beloved cock was in her body, held by the sweet cunt.
“Ummm, Oh, wow, I’ve missed that. Welcome back,” she whispered.
My blood was racing with excitement as she groaned as each thrust into my ear became deeper. Before long, I couldn’t hold back and was instantly thrown into her, frozen in elation.
I pulled out and she stood up, pushed me down into the armchair and sat herself on my lap, kissed me and said, “Hey, that was niiiicce. That doesn’t happen very often.”
“Oh, it’s usually just in and out in a heated rush, all over in a moment or two.“
“That’s a bit sad.”
“No, not really. I’m actually quite enjoying it. Every dick is unique in shape, size and thickness. But it’s what the guy can do with it. It’s surprising how good it is to be fucked by a small prick if he uses it right and how disappointing it is when a bloke with a big one has no imagination beyond plunging it in as deep as it will go. Each is a new adventure. And you never know what you’re getting until he gets his pants off. By which time it’s too late to back out if you’re not sure you really want to anymore, but then I usually just give him a quick wank and it’s over with. It’s amazing how many blokes can’t hold back for very long.”
“That’s a tribute to your dexterity,” I smiled.
“Oh shut up, you,” she punched me on the shoulder. “Still, I suppose it must be the same with girls, yeah? Their cunts, aren’t they all different?”
“Every single one. Hairy, trim, tidy, bushy, pink lips protruding, or concealed, tight or loose, dripping wet or slightly dry, and no two women have the same colour or texture pubic hair.”
“How does mine rate, then?”
“There’ll never be one like yours for me. I think you can safely say that you have the sweetest cunt I’ll ever know, no matter what.”
“Thank you.” She kissed me on the lips. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
“And true. So, are you enjoying your exploration of men below the waist?”
“Loving it. I’m getting all the experience I need now for when I’m old. And I’ll meet someone one day and we’ll get married and have a family and he’ll have no idea about my dirty little life and times before I knew him.” She laughed, a slightly bitter laugh. “Still, my darling, there’s never been a prick like yours for me.”
I pulled her soft, naked skin closer.
“So, do you think I’m just another good girl gone bad, then?”
“…or, based on recent evidence, am I a bad girl who comes good?” And she laughed a smutty little laugh at her own Bonne mot.
I kissed her on her mouth, and she started to breathe heavily. She took my right hand and gripped it tightly. “Once more for old time’s sake, then?” she breathed.
“I think with your help, I might just about manage it.”
“Liar,” she grinned, feeling the swelling of my prick in her hand. “Well, do you want to or not? Simple question.”
“You bet I do.”
She stood, lowered her legs to the floor, and then she sat up. I sat between them, and she raised her knees. She wrapped them around my shoulders while she pulled my cock toward her. I gently approached her and forced my way in.
I rode her slowly and then lost control. Then, I got carried away and started to groan at her.
When I collapsed on top of her, she said, “Hey, do you realise this is the first time you’ve been up me without a rubber on? How did it feel?”
“Wet,” I laughed.
“Yeah. Nice, eh?”
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
As I pulled her out, the front door creaked and we heard footsteps as they ran up the stairs to reach the second floor.
“That’ll be for you, I expect. Miss Persia, no doubt. You’d better be running along, darling, don’t want to keep her waiting.”
I pulled my clothes on and as I did so, Justine said, “Well, that was fun. And at least I know what you won’t be getting up to tonight.”
“You’d be surprised, that was just for starters, a nice tasty appetizer. Now I’m going up there for a full Persian spread.”
She laughed and said, “You bastard, you always were. But, still, let’s do it again, soon, shall we?”
“Whenever you like. I’ll never say no.”
“Oh, and by the way, you might want to wash your face before you leave. You wouldn’t want to go up there with the smell of my cunt on you, now, would you?”
Pietro Vannucci is the nom de plume of an English-language writer and journalist based in Paris, who has filed from more than 20 countries around the world.. For Old Time’s Sake? This is an excerpt from Depravity, his first venture into the world of erotic literature.