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Like a lot of girls studying art history at my college, Emma Compton-Davis came from an upper class background. Her father had bought her a house in Portobello Road, which she shared with two other students, Rachel and Lindsay. I don't know why Emma took such a fancy to me, but she did. I liked Emma a lot, but I didn't want to be her lover, she was too controlling. Rich girls are often like that, they think they can buy your obedience if you didn't enjoy a similarly privileged upbringing.

I'd gone over to Emma's pad because she'd promised to henna my hair. Lindsay was there with her boyfriend Paul. Rachel had gone out. Emma announced she'd bought some LSD. I'd never had it before and I felt a little silly swallowing the blotter she gave me, since it looked more like a little piece of paper than a dangerous drug. We made jokes about getting high and Emma proceeded to dye my hair. She was being quite provocative about it. I was sitting on a stool and she rubbed her pendulous breasts against my back as she worked her rubber gloved fingers through my hair. Once the vegetable dye had been evenly applied, Emma placed tin foil on top and directed the hot air from a hair-dryer over my scalp.

Although Emma had done disco biscuits before, none of us had any experience of good old-fashioned LSD. After Lindsay made a second pot of tea, we began to joke about the drug not working, since it was taking a long time to have any effect. Eventually I went through to the bathroom to take a leak. I gazed at the orange and white checked curtains. On the white squares there were orange flowers and as I looked at the petals, I noticed they were spinning around. I stared in amazement as I pissed and once I'd finished, I stood with my cock hanging out of my flies, totally engrossed by this psychedelic display.

Lindsay came into the bathroom, eased past me and sat on the loo. I must have been starring at the flowers when Lindsay dropped her knickers, since I didn't see them fall. Lindsay took a piece of bog roll and used it to wipe the tip of my cock. Then she dropped the tissue between her legs, so that it fell into the toilet bowl. I looked down as I heard the sound of Lindsay's piss tinkling into the flush pan. She had my erect cock in her hand. Lindsay's head moved forward and she took my manhood into her mouth. I felt a shudder of pleasure travel up my spine as her neatly cut bob slid forward. Lindsay still had most of the shaft in her hand, and she manipulated it so that the head of my cock rubbed against the roof of her mouth.

Lindsay slavered over my plonker for quite some time. Then she stood up, placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. I thought girls usually dried themselves with toilet tissue, but Lindsay made me clean her twat with my tongue. When I'd tongued Lindsay to her satisfaction, she pulled me to the floor and guided my cock into her cunt. I don't know how long we were fucking, but it seemed as if time was standing still. Sometimes, Lindsay had her tongue in my mouth, at others she bit my ears, shoulders and neck.

'Are you shagging my girlfriend?' Paul asked as he wandered into the bathroom.

'No!' I replied indignantly.

'That's okay then,' Paul said. He left after pulling the tin foil from my scalp, ducking my head into the toilet bowl and flushing the loo several times.

I'd shot my load on the final flush. Next, I got up and stumbled around until I remembered to pull my trousers up. I wandered into the hallway, where I found my bicycle, which I took with me as I made my way onto the street. I cycled until the noise of dub reggae booming from the upstairs room of a pub attracted my attention. I got off my bike and padlocked it to some railings. As I approached a glass door, a vicious looking psychopath advanced towards me. I knew the worst thing I could do was show the slightest sign of fear, so I kept moving forward, until eventually I walked into my own reflection.

Inside the venue, people kept asking me for a quarter or an eighth. I was innocently replying that I didn't have any dope, only to be told repeatedly that I stank of it. Only later did I realise that the fresh henna in my hair was the cause of these hassles. I ducked into the toilet to escape the pressures of being mistaken for a dope dealer. I couldn't find the urinals and three girls doing their make-up gave me the evil eye. I locked myself into a cubical, sat down on the toilet and began to shit what I took to be duck's eggs. A girl invaded my space by climbing over from the cubical next door, while another crawled under the bottom of the door. The two vixens took my shoes off my feet, took my pants and trousers from around my ankles, then removed my shirt. One of the dolly birds fingered my balls, while the other went through my pockets.

'He hasn't got any dope!' the chick examining my clothes exclaimed.

'He must have smoked his stash,' the amazon fingering my balls replied, 'look at the dozy sod, he's totally out of it! Shall I blow him anyway?'

'Yeah,' her mate replied.

The drug-starved sex-kitten bent down and took my cock in her mouth. When I came, my sperm blew out the foxy chick's brains. None the less, she managed to get up and walk away, so no real harm was done by my smoking gun. A girl who was doing her make-up, helped me find my clothes, then assisted me as I struggled to get dressed. Later, she got me to sit on a sink and painted my face. I wandered out into the street and found my bicycle. I rode into the night hallucinating that I was a comet zooming through the cosmos. After a while it struck me that since all planets and meteors travel in circular orbits, I could end my trip, which had become rather unpleasant, by returning to Emma's house.

Eventually, I found myself back in Portobello Road. I'd more or less come down from the acid. I just wanted a piss before I crawled into a warm bed. Rachel let me into the house. I went up to the bathroom and as I stood staring at the curtains, I noticed that the petals of the flowers printed onto them were spinning around. Emma came into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. She took a piece of bog roll and used it to wipe the tip of my cock. Emma had put on a blonde wig, which slipped badly as she leaned forward to slaver over my dick...

First published in Intoxication edited by Toni Davidson (Serpent's Tail, London 1998).

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The Web Sex Archive Of Karl Marx


Stewart Home on the can
Stewart Home on the can.

Stewart Home doing a headstand on a Spanish nudist beach
Stewart Home doing at headstand at the nudist beach.