*** This story is based on the experiences of Miss Sharon Henderson ***

‘What is life all about? I wish somebody would tell me, someone
whose opinion I respect, that is. Until that happens, I can only be-
lieve that life is just one hard slog from start to end.

I’m now twenty-one, and for the past two years my weekly routine
has hardly changed. Monday to Friday I study medicine at University
where I am a live-in student, and the evenings are spent doing tutorials
or catching up on some writing. I hope one day to be a hospital con-
sultant but have a further three years to go in order to get my degree.

Saturdays I work from ten until six as a checkout operator at my
local Sainsburys to supplement my grant, which means by Saturday night I
am absolutely fed up with work. I’ve found the only way I can cope is
to just let go and enjoy myself for a few hours, which for me means get-
ting screwed, hard and as often as possible.

Since coming up to Cambridge I’ve had sex with an awful lot of men
and been called a slag many times, but I don’t care. So long as I can
fuck my brains out between Saturday night and Monday morning, I can face
the week ahead with my soul refreshed. Its so good for the complexion
too, and the few blemishes that I used to have are now gone, leaving me
with peachy perfect skin. I’d recommend any girl to fuck as much as she
can while she’s young and horny, and ignore the stupid do-gooders who’re
only jealous anyway. By now I must’ve persuaded dozens of young girls
to become as sexually promiscuous as I like to be, and whenever we meet
they all look really lovely now and are enjoying life to the full.

Every Saturday after work I cycle back to the hall of residence and
have a lazy soak in the bath before preparing myself. When I’ve dried
myself I rub masses of body lotion into my skin, paying particular at-
tention to my tits, cunt lips and arse. By the time I have finished,
my boobs glow like rich creamy globes, each topped with a rigid brown
teat begging to be sucked, and as my puffy lips protrude down from my
cunt a really horny sex-loving feeling starts to permeate my crotch.

After brushing my hair and putting the minimum of make-up on my
face, I then dab Chanel 19 onto a few crucial areas of skin before get-
ting dressed. The objective is to get noticed, so I don a flimsy pink
lace-up camisole with suspenders attached, stockings with the words
“love” and “sex” tracing a pattern up to the thigh, and a very brief
wrap-over skirt which blows open to the waist. My full milky breasts
and hard brown nipples are left completely visible through the sheer ma-
terial of the camisole top, while sexy high heeled shoes complete my
wanton appearance.

To save money I usually catch a bus to my first call, and ignore
all the looks, nudges and stares from the other passengers. My destina-
tion is a working mens hostel in the cheapest part of town. I’ve become
well known there for my Saturday night visits and a crowd normally gath-
ers by the time I arrive at about seven-thirty. There are two large
dormitory type rooms and I make my way into one or the other, then take
off my skirt before I lie back on one of the beds, spread my slendour
legs wide apart and frig my bare cunt until the juices bubble out.

The men there are mostly labourers working away from home, and I
love their down-to-earth dirty language with “fuck” and “cunt” in almost
every sentence. Usually, it doesn’t take many minutes of fingering my
pussy before some of the bolder ones make a move, and I love to just lie
there while they take turns at pumping hot spunk into my womb. Ooh,
just thinking about it now brings a tingle to my randy cock-loving cunt.
At weekends I’ll fuck anyone to get lots of spunk into me and I never
care what the men look like as they’re reasonably clean, their cocks get
hard and they can shoot plenty of cum.

Last Saturday was about average and of the thirty or so men present
about a third of them were spunky enough to give me a sound fucking.
The best night had been a couple of weeks earlier when a crowd of Dutch-
men swelled the numbers and I ended up having seventeen of them. They
were really into dirty sex, which is something I adore, and they took
turns shoving their sweaty cocks deep into my wet cunt before having me
suck them off. I then let their cum dribble out my mouth into a jug,
and they finally poured it all into a large syringe before injecting all
their spunk and my saliva deep inside my horny sperm-loving body.

Their customary routine is to get drunk most nights, and by nine
o’clock most of them have drifted off to a working mens club nearby, so
I re-fasten my little skirt and set off in the other direction.
Naturally, by then spunk is streaming down the insides of both my
thighs. Now I know some girls would use tissues or something to mop
themselves up, but I like being reminded of sex and just letting their
juice leak out freely and run down both my legs is the best reminder of
all.

Last week, I was walking away from the hostel when a man approached
me and asked if I was doing any business. I thought it was a real hoot
him thinking I was a genuine prostitute, so I told him he could fuck me
standing up for a tenner and he handed me a ten pound note straight from
his wallet. He offered to use a condom but I snatched it out his hand
and threw it away saying what’s the point of eating sweets with the
wrapper on! He then took me behind a building and shot his hot load up
me to mix in with all the labourer’s spunk. Wasn’t that a nice dirty
surprise?

My next stop is a wine bar where I head straight for the ladies.
There I take my skirt off and massage the semen into my skin before
running a bowl of water and washing my cunt. Althought I think its a
silly shame, some men are a bit fussy about other men’s spunk so I have
to go through this tidy-up rigmarole. Sure, I get funny looks from
women who come into the loo but I just stare back at them and carry on
wiping my crotch until I’ve finished.

The bar is one of those chrome and glass affairs with high stools
ranged around the walls, and attracts trendy singles like flies. I get
an empty glass from the bar and sit on a stool so my skirt falls open,
exposing my suspenders and pubic bush, and its a bad night if I haven’t
been approached within two minutes. If its for a quickie round the back
or in somebody’s car I always return to the bar afterwards and try for
another straight away. One week I got screwed four times this way in
less than half an hour, then shamelessly sat on a stool so my cunt lips
hung apart and a group of impressionable young girls could see the cum
oozing copiously from my randy slit!

Whenever a man takes me back to his place I tell him I’m meeting my
boyfriend at the disco later so he’ll have to drive me back after we’ve
fucked, and this story always works. Its usually after ten-thirty be-
fore I get into one of the city centre discos, and by then still more
semen is running out of my sex-loving hole to soak my creamy thighs.
But because of the subdued lighting nobody notices all the juicy spunk
dribbling down my stockinged legs, and even if they do its assumed to be
perspiration or my own randy sex-juices. I adore feeling the wetness
run down my legs!

Discos are like fantasy palaces, where people can pretend to be
what they aren’t and nobody minds. Because of this my clothes or lack
of them don’t stand out half as much, and with all the low-cut micro
minis being worn, a lot of tits, suspenders and panties are on show.
The discussion in the Ladies loo is usually whether or not to screw with
the guy they’re dancing with. Sometimes they ask me what to do, and I
always say they should forget the risks, ignore the goody-goodys and get
as much sex as they possibly can, because its a proven fact that girls
bodies need plenty of semen to develop a smooth milky complexion and to
promote their hormones.

I get a real kick from talking young girls into being promiscuous
without caring who they fuck, and one lovely petite seventeen-year-old
went completely cock-crazy after I’d spoken to her. She’s since joined
in the swinging scene, screws with absolutely anyone, and simply adores
being gang-banged. I also convinced two teenage sisters, who both now
advertise in several contact magazines, and each wants to be first to
have had a thousand men spunk inside them. But I must admit the young
schoolkids who con their way past the doormen are the easiest converts.
I must’ve persuaded dozens of fourteen and fifteen year old girls to be
nice little sluts and love to see their changed appearance after their
first few one night stands, with their tight micro-skirts and bra-less
young tits being felt-up all over the dance floor!

But the real reason why I visit discos is simply because I like the
raunchy music and atmosphere, although I do get a kick from sucking off
strangers who sit next to me in the dark alcoves. If I have a drink in
front of me I don’t swallow their spunk right away, but let it dribble
from my mouth into the glass while they watch, then knock it back in one
gulp. I never ask their names. Who cares about names when its cock I’m
after. Usually I can persuade one or two men to let me sit across them
and feed their stiff cocks up my pulsating sheath. Its great having a
man shooting spunk inside my cunt only a few feet from the packed dance
floor, while loud sexy music is booming around the room.

If no-one asks me to sleep with them I go straight back to my room
when the disco closes, throw my things on the floor and climb into bed.
Instead of washing, I revel in the juicy dirty feeling as God knows how
many men’s spunk keeps leaking out of my hot cunt all night, and next
morning I’ll reek of sperm and there’ll be a thick dry coating of spunk
on my peachy thighs and bum.

Sunday mornings I spend doing my laundry, but after lunch I always
pop round to a nearby large house which has been rented by eight male
students. They have regular pot-smoking sessions, but drugs aren’t the
reason why I go there. Once they get high they don’t care what they get
up to, so we play a stupid game where I take off my knickers and pull my
skirt right up before lying on the carpet. Then they blindfold me and I
have three guesses at whose cock is in my cunt before the spunk rushes
into me.

But one week they fooled me by getting some twelve and thirteen
year old lads off the playing fields, and of course they all orgasmed as
soon as they’d pushed their cocks inside me. By the fourth premature
spunking I guessed something was up and took off the mask. I was an-
noyed at first and told them next time they bring people off the street
to make sure they’re old enough to fuck me! Of course, being the jokers
they are, the following week they smuggled in a sixty-five year old pen-
sioner and it was ages before he managed to pump his weak spunk into my
cunt.

Afterwards I usually make us all Sunday tea, and leave around seven
to make my way down to the lorry park. As I said earlier I like to fuck
my brains out at weekends, and sometimes this makes a great finale. On
Sunday a lot of continental drivers stop there overnight, and there are
usually about sixty or seventy large container lorries parked there.

Quite simply, I walk up and down the rows of trucks knocking on all
the cab doors asking if they want to fuck me. I don’t get all that many
refusals and I love the dirty feeling as French, Spanish, German, Ital-
ian and Greek drivers each grab my bum with their filthy hands and shove
their foreign cocks right up my cunt before shooting more and more and
still more creamy spunk into my horny young womb. Yes, Sunday nights I
just go spunk crazy and make a real pig of myself!

Pretty soon my stockings are absolutely soaked in spunk as it runs
thickly out of my cunt and down both my legs, so much so that it starts
trickling into my shoes as well. Still I keep on offering myself to be
fucked more and more until eventually I can hardly walk straight. Un-
fortunately, I have to leave the compound at ten o’clock when the secu-
rity men lock the gates, and it is always with reluctance that I lurch
back to the University where I just drop into bed to sleep. Then next
morning I’ll put my things in the wash and clean myself up before get-
ting dressed in my “normal” clothes again.

OK, so maybe some highly moral people don’t approve of my life-
style, but at least it gets me through the hard slog each week, and if I
get my degree in three years time it will all have been worth it. Also,
the considerable number of girls who have thanked me for leading them
into uninhibited sex are living proof of its natural beauty.

Yours very sincerely, Sharon
–