The Life on Mars Anonymous Pornfest
Please Note: I've declared the Pornfest over (as I can't be bothered to keep the prompt list up-to-date!) So any new prompts posted will be deleted. However, I do encourage you to post any anon fic in response to the existing prompts and comment on the lovely responses that we've already got
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Ray 'as told them all this story a million times, and it's good on every telling. There's none of his usual bluster or the short, sharp words he keeps for his current shags; instead, he's rosy-eyed nostalgic, staring down at his pint as if Milly had been The One for 'im. And mebbe she had, and what would Chris know about it, anyways.
He takes a long pull from his pint, and hopes that it's not his turn to talk yet. 'Twere nice, yeah, he rehearses. She was a bit skinny, right, but, erm, it were nice. Quick, because that's what all of them end up confessing eventually, laughing.
And 'ow long can you last now? The Guv'd laughed the last time Ray'd said it. A whole ten seconds?
So that's your first, Chris knows. It's sweet, and soft, and quick, and it's somewhere you ain't supposed to be, and the lass is lucky if she don't end up up the duff, what with you being a young lad and therefore an idiot.
He wonders if there's a list somewhere on this, and someone keeping track. Annie'd eventually given in and mentioned 'er first time, to the interest of just about everyone ("'twas nice. Hurt a bit - not too much, 'e was gentle - an'... it was nice. Quick, though."), and even Sam'd unwoundnd enough to mention a fumble or two back when 'e'd been a nipper.
Soft. Sweet. Quick.
If it was a manual, 'e could sit the exam and pass, no problem.
Ray's almost finished 'is drink. "So," he asks, as if by rote, "how were your first tumble, then, Chris?"
It weren't nice, and it weren't soft; not even a little bit. We'd been tusslin', like, me sister an' me - we were only nippers, fifteen or so, so we could be stupid together - and our folks were out. Well, you could be, back then. You could let your kids walk the street and they'd be fine; not like nowadays, with them murderers and rapists and whathaveyou everywhere. And me mam and dad were out - visiting me auntie, I think - and it was summer. So bloody hot the pavement could burn ya if you weren't careful. So Lizzie an' me, we stayed at the house to play, on the grass out back. And we were tusslin', like kids do, you know?
It weren't soft. She wouldn't let go of me 'air, so I bit 'er, and she bit back. And I wouldn't let go of 'er arm, so she pinched me, under me t-shirt, up on the skin over me ribs. And she pulled at me, an' I pulled at 'er, and it were safe, you know? 'cause it was us, and we could beat the crap outta each other, 'cause we were us, not some strangers on the street. And I - I got hot with 'er, and angry, and scared-like, 'cause I was on the grass with 'er in my lap, wriggling all over the place, trying to pin me down. Trying to win.
It weren't sweet. It was 'er hands on me chest, and 'er wriggling outta her shorts, and me trying to figure out where it was supposed to go, you know? Stupid, 'cause even then we knew that it weren't supposed to go there, not my sister, not even if we were of an age and looked the same, and she smelled like me and laughed like me and had the same eyes, green and blue, like I'd got one o' 'ers, and she'd got one o' mine.
Not even if - or mebbe because - we fitted slick and wet and perfect, like we'd started off one person and somehow ended up accidentally split, and this could make us one again.
And, worst of all, worse than all the above, worse than all that wriggling, and me sister's 'ands on me, hard and bony like me own 'ands, and me inside 'er, hot and wet and perfect - worse than all this, worse than everything -
It weren't quick. Not then. Not a few days later. Not a few days after that. Not last week. Not this morning.
It's never quick.
"Oh, you know," Chris mumbled into his beer. "She were nice. Soft and sweet, like. 'Twere quick, though, you know?"
"Aye," Ray nodded, and went to get them another round.
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