Right dirty

‘Ooh, luvvie, ooh, ducks. Oooh’ said Dear Dickie as he opened his shirt, grabbing one of his moobs.

I’d been drinking pink champagne since six and was well up for some octogenarian cock from one of the greatest actors, ever. He’d pulled me into to his dressing room at The Garrick and kissed me forcefully on my lips…

‘Seen 10 Rillington Place?’ asked Dickie. ‘In that film I play John Reginald Christie… right bastard he was, right dirty’.

I felt myself getting hard; I didn’t shy away from the compunction to play with myself. I pulled up my skirt pushed my panties aside and got my hairy cock out, my bobble-end wet from piddle.

‘Oooh luvvie-ducks, darling’ said Dear Dickie. ‘I’m going to give you some Brown Brighton Rock with my Pinkie’.

Still pulling at myself like a bloody ape, Dickie spun me around and shoved my face through his dressing mirror, ‘kiss the fucking pain (pane)’ he squeaked. I felt him enter my botty and a little bit of sick came out of my broken nose.

‘Ooof,’ I said.

‘Aahh,’ said Sir Richard Attenborough.

After what seemed like 1 minute and 38 seconds, Dickie suddenly withdrew with a sad sigh. I felt a thin dribble of cold liquid run down the inside of my quivering thigh.

‘Have you seen Jurassic Park? ‘ he enquired, forlornly. ‘Jeff Goldblum has a tattoo of that very penis on his chest’. He pointed down at his shrinking member. ‘Dear Johnnie, dear Larry. All gone now, all gone. Gone.’

Not wasting a second I turned to face him and after farting an arc of watery issue over his BAFTA I pushed Dick to his knees.

‘What are you doing fucknuts?’ asked Dickie, his face contorted like he’d just licked lemon juice off dogshit.

‘I’m going to sex you up!’ I hissed, ‘right in your face, Dick, all night!’

One of Dickie’s balls gently dropped onto my toe. Grabbing Dickie’s chops, I thrust my contentious winky into his beard and pulled the fine hair about my member. I could hear Dickie muttering something as I pounded the fucking phlegm out of his milky old head, harder and harder, really fucking hard actually… a bit too hard, I felt his body go limp.

Shit, he’s not breathing. Fuck, fuck, fuck – what to do? I checked for a pulse. Jesus – I’ve fucked his face in! To death!

Before running off with his trophies and the 68 quid I found in his wallet, I pissed on his back.

Advertisements