Roxy

Chapter 1

I posed naked on the bed. Having forgotten to refresh my music, I listened to the same old shitty dance tunes through the laptop speakers. Despite the music grating on my ears, I smiled and hummed along with the bland lyrics.

Legs spread, I rested my head in my hand while doing my best to appear interested. Pouting like the whore I was, I’d part my pussy lips to show off my healthy inner pinkness. Gazing into the laptop, I watched IrishRover5 wanking in front of his camera. My eyes felt tired, there is only so many ginger pubes that you can take in one night. Still, he was paying me £5 a minute. So I lay there, fingering my clit, until he fired cum all over his laptop.

How did I end up camming? Well, I simply searched online for an easy way to make money. I’m not a natural cashier, or bargirl. Hello..? I’m studying to be a doctor. You’re not going to find me stacking shelves in some discount shop.

I know camming is a risk to my future career, but as well as clever, I’ve always felt free spirited... or if you want a more exciting phrase, slutty. The feeling has always been there since I started puberty, like an itch waiting to be scratched or a clit waiting to be tickled.

The thought of being a doctor has never excited me. It’s my father who chose my career path, he is a heart surgeon and wanted his little daughter to follow him into cardiology. Don’t for one minute think I’m a pushover, but I can’t exactly say, hey dad, I would rather be dancing poles and getting my arse felt by random men... could I?

It’s not that I didn’t try and get a normal job to get me through uni. When I first arrived in London I got a job at as a waitress in a high-end Indian restaurant, where I worked for a month. But I spent more time turning down dates from my colleagues than I did waiting tables. That’s when I realised that I attract South Asians like a Dog would attracts fleas. It was not just the restaurant, it was uni. They chase me all over the campus. I’m not kidding, after lecture there will be a queue, ten deep, offering me proposals and questions. What are you? Where are you from? Please meet my parents. Will you marry me..? Fuck sake, it’s endless. They’re obsessed with me. They treat me like some kind of deity, so I started calling them pilgrims.

The problem is, technically I’m one of them. I’m mixed race, half Bahraini, yes I’m as hot as the desert and half English – hence the foul mouth. I dress in Western clothes and possess a liberal attitude. The whole package drives my South Asian classmates mad.

It’s not that I have a particular problem with my South Asian pilgrims either, they’re usually good looking, kind hearted men, who are for the most part very clever. But they want to marry me.... right away!

Despite changing careers, it was no different while camming, where I get bombarded with emails asking my ethnicity. Of course I can’t tell them the truth, Bahrain is a small island, not to mention highly conservative. If word got out that I was an online stripper, I’ld be stoned to death on my return from London. So, usually depending on what I want for dinner, I tell them I’m Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Iranian, oh and if I fancy a Sunday roast, then I’m British Asian.

Anyway, I packed away my work clothes and got ready for bed. I had an early morning, the Border Agency was coming for a visa check, so all foreign nationals had to attend. Sometimes it really does feel like a Nazi state. I wouldn’t really mind, but I look like shit on my ID card. Plus I needed an early night because I felt my period coming on, so I was going to be that little bit bitchier in the morning... God help anyone that crosses me.

Chapter 2

I woke with my stomach turning, and felt angry with the world and everything in it. Angry, I wanted to share the pain... my pilgrims were going to suffer.

Weighed down with attitude, I slumped onto the bench seat in the lecture theatre. Within a minute the daily pilgrimage began.

“Hello Madam.”

He was a fresh one. “Fuck off.” It may seem harsh but I don’t like my new pilgrims feeling too comfortable.

“I like you.”

“Not the only one. Just look at the six creeps behind you.”

“May I...”

“No. If you want to become a pilgrim, you need to come bearing gifts.”

His face suddenly lifted that he had lasted this long. “My name is Ashvin.”

“Ashvin, I don’t want to be a wife, I can’t make chapati, chicken korma or even a fucking pot noodle. As far as I know, the kitchen is somewhere where I store my white wine and dark chocolate...” Ashvin was still standing there like a door knocking Jehovah. It was time I gave him the infamous Roxy scowl. “Go and find a woman who wants to live a life of servitude.” I gestured towards my tits, “This, right here, isn’t what you’re looking for”, then gave him the Bahraini finger. “Now piss off before I give Immigration more than a few reasons to deport you.”

“I just want to be a follower.”

“You mean, pilgrim, not follower. You need to come bearing gifts. Report tomorrow with the most expensive chocolate you can find... if you can’t afford it, then you’re not my type.”

“Yes madam. Thank you, madam.”

“Now fuck off and don’t disappoint.”

The next pilgrim took his place... it was going to be a long day... But fucking them off let me release some periodic tension. “Next.”

“It’s me Sunny.”

“What have you got for me today?”

“Dark chocolates like you asked for.”

“Still a virgin?”

“Yes madam. But it’s even more frustrating being so, now that I am a pilgrim.”

I fingered through a fashion magazine, not even bothering to look at Sunny. “Leave the chocolates... I’ll eat some and let you know if you’ve pleased me”

“I do hope I have...”

“I very much doubt it. Bring me some sparkling white next time... always puts me in a more, willing mood.”

“Absolutely. May I?”

I placed the magazine on the bench, then raised my hand as Sunny kissed my ring. “Now be a good boy and disappear... You’re already outstaying your welcome.”

Finally alone I could concentrate on what really mattered. Taking out my vanity bag, I fixed my makeup. My lips are full and luscious, good for blow jobs, so I’ve been told. They are backed by a row of straight white teeth meaning I possess a Bollywood smile.

Slouched on my bench seat I doodled onto my pad as the lecturer seemed intent on boring me to death. Suddenly my mobile vibrated. My first thought was it was just another friend request on Facebook from a wannabe pilgrim. But it was my father, Pappa.

Dear little Princess.

When can I expect my loved one back here for the festive season? We all miss our little doctor in waiting. I trust you still have the money I sent for your flight home? Plus how is the love life? Your mother and I both miss you dearly. Mother spends more and more time tending the garden, I guess she is passing the time until you return.

Hugs and kisses.

Pappa



I sighed out loud. That money for the flight was well spent on cocaine and expensive dinners. I could have used the phrase wasted, but I had a bloody good time... fuck, that’s an understatement. I woke up on so many different beds I thought I was a mattress tester. However, what freaked me out most was Pappa asking about my love life... he wants me married. Typing on my phone I sent back a reply.

Dear Paps

Studying hard, grades are hitting the high eighties, so still on for that first. Sadly I have no time for men L

Love and hugs

Your little Doctor



That wasn’t far from the truth, with all the dildos I ride there wasn’t much need for a cock. I usually just pull a guy during the end of term celebrations or if I go on a sex binge... which happens from time to time. Pappa must have been bored as the phone vibrated straight away.

Dear Princess

I miss you terribly. I also worry about you being single and alone. I am sending you a spread sheet of men that I have personally vetted since you turned eighteen. It contains their names, ages, occupations and pictures. Let me know who you like and I’ll put you in touch.

Love

A worried Pappa



Fuck sake, what is it with men? If it’s not pilgrims doing my head in, it’s bloody family.

Dear Father.

I appreciate the offer, but I’m really not interested in getting married. I like being single and carefree. If people are talking about me, let them. No need to worry about me, I have met plenty of people.



As soon as I sent the email I realised my mistake. My phone vibrated with a reply.

What do mean met plenty of people?



Chewing my nail I formulated a reply.

I have joined social clubs and play an active role in student union.



The fact Pappa didn’t reply showed me that he knew I was jumping cocks. Oh, well what can he do? He’s ten thousand kilometers away and I’m no longer financially dependent on him.

Suddenly the lecture was interrupted by the boarder agency officer, who was a tall blond man in uniform. Normally I’ld look forward to flirting my way through the formalities, but I didn’t feel in the mood... Bloody monthly cycle was in full swing. Taking out my card I waited for the usual cheeky comments about my ID picture.

The officer sat the lectures desk. “Roxy Ahmedi.”

“Sure.” I strutted to the officer and passed him my visa documents. I watched his raised eyebrows and guessed that he spotted my ID picture.

“Bloody Hell. I’m surprised they let you in the country with a picture like that... shocking.”

His lame joke was predictable, but I humoured him. “Oh, not heard that joke before.”

“It’s not a joke... you look diseased.”

“Diseased?”

“Dengue fever, maybe?”

“Dengue..? Of course not.” Fucking dengue fever, was this guy serious? I felt like telling him to fuck off, but feared the consequences of being deported. So I tried to explain why I appeared to be suffering from post diarrhoea sweats. “I was still in Bahrain and about to file for my UK Visa. As always, I was running late and the UK embassy was about to close.”

“Well you defo weren’t late because you were putting make up on. Just look at that skin.”

“No...I wasn’t. At peak hour, Manama traffic doesn’t exactly move very quick, so I had to run three miles in the height of summer. Hence I look like crap when I had my photo taken. Happy? Or do want to know what bloody route I took?’’

“You’re quite feisty for...”

“For? You obviously don’t know many Arab girls, do you?”

“I’m married to one. Jeila, she’s Jordanian.”

I hissed through my teeth. “A visa chaser?”

“You must have a very understanding boyfriend.”

“You must have a death wish.”

“Is that a threat?”

I realised I had crossed the line. “No, sorry. I’m single... and very bitter.” I hung my head back, then glanced at him. “It’s also the time of the month... Sorry.”

“My wife uses the same excuse.” The officer passed me back my visa. “Anyway, everything is fine here. But I’m going to book you an appointment at the hospital of tropical medicine.. just to make sure you’re clear from your fever.”

“I got checked out last week!”

“What for?”

I whispered, “Crabs... Not the type you eat.”

Chapter 3

New week and a fresh problem.

I could just tell by looking at Professor Graham Shaw that he was a dirty old pervert. He had that leering look about him. You could just tell that he fucked hookers on weekends and wouldn’t care if they hadn’t washed in a week. He was probably into all kinds of kinks too. The kind of guy who would ask to be bummed with a strap on.

As Graham handed out our marks, I smiled at him as if he was my favourite. Yes, I’m two faced, so get over it. But one look at my paper changed all that. I suddenly felt like slapping his pasty face. “Fifty nine percent?”

“Got any complaints, see me in my office.”

“I’ll be there alright. Don’t you worry.”

“Good, I look forward to hearing your excuses.”

“I haven’t got any.”

“Then you’ll have to show me how you’re going to fix them.” The pervert’s voice was layered with dirty undertones. I’ve never fucked an old man and I can’t see it being much fun.

During lunchtime I usually spend my time in a riverfront bar, hoping for a rich footballer to whisk me off my feet... before laying me on my back. But today I have more pressing problems, like Professor Graham Shaw.

I had nipped home and got dressed in some adequate attire. An old pervert like Graham probably gets his hookers to dress young and school girly. So I had dressed myself up like an innocent choir girl from the American Bible belt... as you can see I take my slutty image very serious. I stepped into his office. The pasty faced freak sat behind his desk, wearing a perverted grin while glaring at me from behind his round spectacles. He gestured for me to sit. So on the chair, I crossed one leg over the other, making sure my pleated skirt rode as high as possible. It was my way of showing that I was ready to negotiate a better grade. “So, about my low mark?”

“I’ve already marked it twice. All those shifts on BabeCam are taking their toll.”

“What did you just say?”

“It was going to come out one day. I found you online.”

I tried to hide my shock of being found out, by veiling it behind my charm. “Well I hoped you tipped me well.”

“I like your double penetration show.

Your almost swallow that butt plug whole. I think you’ve found your true calling.”

I felt flattered that he saw my potential, then realised he was taking the piss. “I need that First, Graham.”

“You need to focus, despite being a goodtime girl, you do have a brain on you. Your previous results are evidence of that. Concentrate on what matters.”

“That job earns me a good living. It also gives me the time to study.”

“Your grades are slipping for a reason.”

He had a point. But my grades were slipping because I was lacking the motivation. I find wanking and making money more interesting than learning about best surgical practices. “I need you to help me. If I don’t get that first, my average will slip and I won’t get my preferred placement. My father will disown me.”

I felt his stare falling onto my upper thigh, I slightly parted my legs, showing him that I was willing to do whatever it takes. Graham took off his tie then made eye contact. “Then show me how dedicated you are.”

“I have a hundred percent attendance... how much more dedicated can I be?”

“I’m sure a girl of your particular talents knows how to squeeze out that extra twenty percent from a red blooded male.”

I stood from the chair and unbuttoned my blouse, exposing my cleavage. “If you want me to earn my First by fucking you, just say so. I could be riding you to the best orgasm you’ve had, since the first time you splashed your bed sheets.”

“We have to both be sure that we are on the same wave length, I’ve seen too many colleagues fall foul of the governing body. Safe to say they’re taking all the fun out of this job.”

I closed the door then behind me. “Are you ready to fuck?”

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t talk like that.”

“You love it, you dirty bastard.”

Placing my hand on my outer thighs I ran them up to my arse, lifting my mini skirt up and showing my white cotton panties. “Like what you see?”

“You look better on cam, but go on.”

Pulling my panties to one side I exposed my shaven pussy. “There are certain advantages of not being behind on camera.”The cold air tickled my outer lips. “How long have you wanted this?”

“Since you first sat on my front bench. You have a habit of showing your knickers while you take your notes.”

“It helps me think.

“Most people chew finger nails, play with their hair or roll their tongue... But yours is definitely more interesting. Keeps the boredom of lecturing at bay.”

I strutted up to Graham and climbed on him while he sat, straddling his waist. “Now, how exactly do you want me to earn that first?”

“Make me cum.”

“I expected nothing different for you.... you old dirty bastard.”

“It won’t be too hard. You’re a slut, so just do what comes natural.”

I hate the word slut and being called it stings my ears... But they always say nothing hurts more than the truth. “I’ve always hated you from the moment I first set eyes on you.” Framing Graham’s head with my hands I forced it back onto the headrest and pinned him there by his ears. His pasty face began to turn a healthier pink. I stared into his weak and cloudy eyes. “You have pervert written all over your face.” I snatched his glasses and tossed them onto his desk. “I’m going to give you the angriest fuck you have ever known... and I hope your pacemaker can’t keep up.”

“I like it rough... I like it dirty, and that’s why I always liked you.”

Reaching down between us both, I unzipped his trousers. My hand entered his sweaty boxers and found his rigid manhood. “Big words for a small man.” A smile crossed my face as I wrapped my fingers around his pecker. “I knew you didn’t have a big cock.”

“What is it about sluts and big cocks?”

“I never forget a man’s name if he can make me scream.” I began wanking Graham. My hand sliding up and down his moist cock, I wondered if it was piss or sweat... probably both. “I like to feel what it is that I’m fucking. Tiny cocks like yours doesn’t do anything for me... but you can only work with the tools you’re provided with.”

“I make up for size with my experience.”

“I hope so... But I doubt it. I’ve never been with a man over fourty. Never mind seventy.”

“I’m sixty three, next week.”

Taking my hands off his cock, I massaged his forehead with my thumbs, stretching his loose skin. “The wrinkles are already out in force. With that green pullover of yours, you look like a turtle.”

“Mock me if you want, but I was well into my fifties before I got my tree rings. But with your lifestyle, you’ll no doubt drop a few kids before thirty, have the stress of bringing them up on your own. And end up with more wrinkles than me before you hit the menopause.” Graham smiled. “I’ve seen it time and again.”

I slid down Graham’s body and dropped to my knees. Gripping his thighs I lowered my mouth over his cock. My taste buds told me that his cock was moist because of piss rather than sweat. Not that it was overpowering, he must have been well hydrated. Also, I guess a man of his age can’t help a little leakage.

The beauty of small cocks is the blowjobs are effortless. I slid up and down like it was a hobby of mine... well I suppose it actually is. Anyway, I wasn’t choking, that’s the point I’m trying to make. It felt good because I only like choking on cock when the guy deserves to be slobbered on. However, I spoke too soon and the bastard pushed down on the back of my head with both of his hands, forcing the cock deep into my throat. My face was up against his soft bed of grey curls. I began slapping his skinny thighs, but he still wouldn’t release me. So I dug my nails into skin. He released me, but not until I vomited a mouthful spit over my blouse.

I fell backwards, covered in the sort of mucus only your GP finds. However, rather than feeling defeated, my depraved lust kicked in and I felt ready to get my sexual revenge. I climbed to my feet. My blouse felt drenched and clung to my skin. He sat there on his chair, wearing a smile on his decrepit face. It made me hate him even more. He was going to get it... big time. In fact, I was going to retire the bastard... permanently. “You want it rough?”

“I think I have made that perfectly clear, my dear.”

“Your cock is going to be so sore, you’ll feel like you’re wearing a catheter,”

Pulling my blouse over my head, I let it fall, before unbuttoning my black skirt and stepping free. Kicking off my Sunday school shoes, I launched them at the bastard. I then ran in my white school socks, and threw myself towards him. Our bodies collided and sent us rolling on his chair, crashing into a bookshelf. Text books and journals clubbed us as they rained to the floor. A weighty contacts book smashed me in side of the face, but I couldn’t care less as I went about ripping that fucking awful green pullover over his head. I pulled it over his face and watched it get caught on his hooked nose. He screamed as I pulled ... so I yanked it even harder.

To my despair Graham wore a sky blue shirt with small vintage aircraft flying over his torso. A sure sign of questionable kinks. “Is your mum still alive?”

“What the hell has that got to do with this?”

“I’m sure she still dresses you.” Pulling my panties to one side I sat on his cock and slid it in deep. I’m easily excited so my pussy is constantly lubed. It would take more than a badly dressed dirty old man to cause a drought in my pants.

I pulled at Graham’s shirt, popping buttons, ripping it down over his shoulders. It didn’t get any better as he wore a discoloured string vest. But I was too far gone to give him a lecture on his choice of clothes. Grabbing the back of his neck I began grinding my hips into his pelvis. I stared at him for point blank range, causing us to share the same air. My screams were an act, but my enjoyment was clear for him to see. Sex is never a choir, not with strangers anyway.

As the sexual tension rose I began to tear at his neck with my nails, and smiled as I left rivers of red skin. I cried in agony as he tore at my bra, snapping the clasp and threw it to the floor. This was getting serious, that bra was a present from one of my favourite cam clients.

I felt we needed a new position. Shifting my weight I span the chair around, then kicked off the desk, sending the chair falling backwards onto the hard tiles. My pussy has quite a grip, and never let go Graham’s cock during the manoeuvre.

My bubble butt is a favourite feature of mine, and I’m always showered with compliments when online. So in the hope of finishing Graham quick, I thought I’d give him some reverse cowgirl. Feeling him slide out, I quickly spun around, then impaled myself back on to his cock. Whirling an imaginary lasso, I began pounding him.

All the while I was sliding his modest cock, all I had to gaze at was his tired slippers. The worst thing was the faint smell of vinegary feet. This was a new low for me, but if it gets me my grade it will be worth every inch of his dirty, repulsive cock.

I suddenly lunged forward and shouted out, “Hey.” My face was perilously close to his pungent feet. Graham had plugged his thumb into my arse. I closed my eyes as I felt him corkscrew inside me. It’s not part of my repertoire so I leaned back and slapped his hand away.

Jumping up from Graham, I quickly whipped off his sweaty slippers and grabbed the bottom of his slacks and pulled them off his ankles. Graham remained on the tiles. He didn’t put up any resistance, in fact he boxers came off with his slacks. All the while he was too busy sucking my arse juice from his thumb. Shaking my head I frowned. “You disgust me.”

“Why, you’re about to do the same.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Want that first, clean my bottom.”

“You’re filth.”

“No, you’re filth.” Grabbing the back of his knees he lifted his legs and mooned a greying hairy arse. “Now, earn that First.”

“But there’re bits of tissue stuck in your arse hair.”

“Well make sure it isn’t there when you finish... Now, chop chop, I want my pilchard sandwiches before my break is over.”

My stomach somersaulted like a Russian gymnast. Settling down in between his legs, I wretched as I breathed in the odour of unwashed skin. Sticking out my tongue I closed my eyes and leaned forward.

I once wanted to be a nurse, but I was immediately derided by Pappa who didn’t want his daughter cleaning sick pensioners while only earning a modest wage. Well, here I am, half way through medical school, licking an old man’s arse. If only Pappa knew.

As I neared his stench emitting backside, my fingers brushed the floor, and found a stray pen... I was saved. I opened my eyes as I picked up the pen. Knowing men well, I knew he wouldn’t mind. So I thrust it into his anus. Twisting it, I listened to his lustful screams, and shoved it deeper. It was clear to me he was enjoying it. The fact was then certified as he cock jettisoned his cum, showering his hairy belly with salty white raindrops.

Feeling that my job was done, I pulled my white panties up my legs as Graham pulled out the glue stick. He tossed the stick into the bin. “Good job the lid didn’t come off.”

“What goes up must come down.”

“That was the best student sex I have ever had. Well done.”

I threw him by broken bra. “You can have it as a memento.”

“I’ll put it with the rest of my mementos... I’ll EBay my collection one day.”

“Have I got my First?”

“Damn, right... if you piss your panties and give them to me.”

Nothing shocked me anymore. Plus I needed my post-sex piss anyway. “Sure. I always need a leak after sex.”

“And let me watch.”

“Didn’t think I was going to do it alone, did you?”

“The socks too... you wore them when you were at school right?”

“Of course.”

“Great... Take them off now. I’ll wank in them later.”

I pulled my socks off, their frilled edges spoke of an innocence long lost. “Enjoy.”

Graham took out an old newspaper from his satchel, then scattered the pages on the floor. “I have a bucket for such occasions.” Opening his cabinet he lifted out a large steel bucket and placed it in the middle on the paper. “Stand in it and take your time.”

Stepping in the bucket I waited for the moment. But his intense stare pushed back the tide. “I can’t go while you watch.”

Graham handed me over a glass of water. “I have a meeting in five minutes, hurry up.”

After downing the glass in one, I closed my eyes and thought of running water. I dreamt of waterfalls, rivers and broken mains pipes. Fuck, I even dreamed about the shit nineties film called Waterworld.

The dam finally burst. I felt the piss gush out the legs of my panties and trickle down my thighs and calves. Rivers of hot golden urine flowed down my legs. The sound of piss hitting the bucket took me back to my childhood when the cyclone rained on the corrugated roof of my nan’s house.

I’m not shy by any means, but being watched while pissing myself made me feel humiliated. Still the thought of my First made me turn the piss tap to full.

Pulling down my panties, I stepped out of the piss bucket on to the newspaper covered tiles. I left them in the bucket just like Graham had asked. Soaked in piss I pulled my dress over my head. “So I got my First?”

“Yes.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Graham took a bite out of his pilchard sandwich. “Now get out and leave me alone with your delicious panties and socks... I think I might force out a quickie and unload in your left sock... while smelling the right one.”

Finally on my way home, I stood inside a packed tube train. All I could smell was piss, and for once it was me. My mouth tasted of ass and all I wanted was to rinse my mouth with mouthwash then stand under a steaming shower. Picking my phone out my bag I noticed I had a message from Pappa.

Dear my little Princess

I cannot rest while worrying about you. I fear that you’re at risk of being misled by these randy westerners. I have secured a job at a London hospital and will now rent a two bedroom apartment for you to live with me.

Good news?



Fuck sake... Now I need an Asian boyfriend before he arrives. Otherwise I’m going to be stuck being Pappa’s Princess. A thought worse than Graham... well, not quite. But you get my point.