Sex & Drugs & Dance Music

‘Undo your trousers and get your cock out now’ she cried.

I knew she would be unimpressed with what she saw. It wasn’t the fact I was fucked from the seven hours of non-stop dancing, or that I felt physically ill from the dodgy burger I’d eaten at Stav’s van outside the club. I knew full well that my inability to get a hard on was due to the six wraps of amphetamine that I had hoovered up my nose throughout the night.

‘Come on, she pleaded. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make me come all night long’. She had always been a pretty straight forward kind of girl. Or at least she had been since I’d known her. I’d met her in the club about four hours earlier. She was coming out of the toilets as I was heading in to fill up my water bottle. She said she liked my blue mascara and matching hair. I said I liked her devil horns and big tits. But those 36D’s were doing nothing for me now.

I felt the crotch of my faux snakeskin trousers. Nothing. Her eyes eagerly followed the direction of my hand. She wouldn’t be pleased. My usually ample sized dick was letting me down. I tried to change the subject.

‘I’ll put some tunes on’ I croaked as I fumbled about on the floor. I found a CD – Carl Cox Non Stop. For fucks sake. Must everything remind me of my dick? I angrily pushed the disk into the stereo.

‘I fancy you’ she purred. How the fuck was I going to pull this one off? Here was a smouldering sex kitten writhing around on my bed, gagging for it, and my bollocks had shrivelled to the size of a grape. I suppose it’s not their fault, I mused. Give me a choice between a shag and six wraps of pure base and I’ll go for the powder every time. It’s only when you have Uma Thurman on your bed that you wish you could say no.

Maybe I could try and satisfy her in another way, I wondered. That way if my sleeping policeman ever decides to wake up then it’ll be fine: I can shag her all night long. If he decides to sleep in, however, then maybe she’ll be content with other parts of my anatomy instead and fall asleep.

‘Well, if you won’t come to me then I’ll just have to come to you’ she teased, playfully. She stood up from the bed and moved over towards me, undoing the strings of her corset as she walked. Her eyes locked on mine. I would hate to be a disappointment to her but, as yet, there was no stirring in my nether regions. Her leather bodice fell to the floor, shortly followed by her crushed velvet hot pants. Fuck me, she was beautiful. She had a body to die for with a sexual appetite to match. Every man’s wet dream. I so wished I’d met her when I wasn’t off my face.

‘Interested?’ she seductively inquired. How ironic I thought. As I studied her ample chest, the old snakeskins felt a little tighter at the zip. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe my sleeping policeman’s alarm clock had finally gone off. I sent down another tentative hand to the area in question. Thank fuck. My bollocks had returned to their normal size and my dick was getting ready to greet Uma with a smile.

‘I’m interested if you are’ I beamed. And she was. My snakeskins and ‘FUCKED’ t-shirt were soon on the floor. They and the devil horns made a cracking looking pair.


‘I’ll be off then. Thanks for a great night!’

It wasn’t actually the sound of her voice that woke me up that afternoon, but the sound of the heels on her knee length boots clicking along the hallway floor. Through the haze of a banging headache and a raging thirst I watched them disappear as the front door slammed shut.

Although I felt like utter shit I smiled proudly to myself. She thought last night was ‘great’. For once, it seemed, I had managed to fight the side effects of the chemicals I had consumed and have a decent shag after a good nights whizzing. I settled back into bed and prepared for the inevitable come down that was already winging its way to me in the post.

My mobile began to vibrate on the bedside table. The noise felt like someone drilling holes into my head. I answered it, just to stop it hurting.

‘Hello?’

‘Fuck me, you are alive then!’ came an excited voice. ‘Man, I thought you’d be out of it considering how well you got on with our friend Billy last night. Fucking good night though, eh? Bouncing club that. But what about that bird with the devil horns and the big tits that you were talking to outside the toilets? Must have hurt when she called you a sexist prick and slapped your face before walking off with her pals…’

It was then I realised. It’s like the geezer from Manchester growls in that song:

‘All your dreams are made, when you’re chained to the mirror and the razor blade…’

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