It was early summer and one of those days when going back to school after your lunchtime chip buttie and can of pop just wasn’t on the cards. The sun was shining, clear skies and to boot it was Friday – prime bunking off day. So without too much persuasion I and two other female mates headed off armed with a bag of ice pops to the unused quarry which was a good 40 minute walk from the comprehensive school. Our other mate, Kristy decided to head back to school. Complete shitty arsed loser we all called her, as soon as her back was turned.
The quarry was a deserted bit of land hidden way behind a few farms, so any teacher who was out on the prowl searching for the cool rebellious sort would have no chance unless really determined to search out trouble and let’s face it they don’t care that much, even then we realised that. So safe in our secluded location we settled in for an afternoon sat discussing such important hot topics like “when you give a lad a blow-job, do you actually blow on it?” Yes, that conversation actually happened.
That’s when I bolted my head up into sitting position and turned around to get full sight. A portly white naked man wearing nothing but a black balaclava was standing a foot away from me whilst masturbating furiously.
But there we were, laid back skirts hitched up and catching some truancy sun. All three pretending to be completely chilled out with life, not a care in the world other than who we could ask to buy that night’s cider. Obviously the truth was that on the inside visions of head teachers calling parents ran over and over on internal loop as you starting to dread the moment you had to walk through the front door just in case that ill-fated call had somehow happened “Hello Mrs Hammond, this is Mr Hillditch. Just calling to check Shelley is ok....” Mr Hillditch for the record was my form teacher, who had a nasty limp, a fuck-off massive head and for Christmas in my first year I bought him a plastic leather briefcase from Argos. A creep, I know.
Anyway, I recall I had just popped to the loo (ones not twos and a nearby bush) and had returned, got settled back on the quarry edge and closed my eyes just as the other two were happily doing nearby. As I lay there, I started to get an odd feeling like something wasn’t quite right. Ignoring this as just my ongoing inner telephone scenario paranoia, I continued to lay with eyes closed for a few more minutes occupying my thoughts with what flavour 20/20 I’d drink that evening. Probably Strawberry. That’s when I heard something panting faintly followed by the slight rustle of a carrier bag and it seemed to be quite close by.
The sun was so bright I was squinting hard to see if there was something above me, but I couldn’t see a thing. Giving myself a hand visor I opened my eyes. Then I could see the dark outline of a figure standing directly above my head looking down at me. Slightly paralysed I laid motionless until I noticed the panting again. That’s when I bolted my head up into sitting position and turned around to get full sight. A portly white naked man wearing nothing but a black balaclava was standing a foot away from me whilst masturbating furiously. In his left hand was an Asda carrier bag, which I presume concealed his clothing and shoes! He’d taken off his shoes! By his right side a small Jack Russell was sitting looking directly at me, head tilted and panting. Just sitting there happily waiting for his owner to finish his business.
Fourteen years old with cheap coke and a flasher's spunk soaked hair.
Suddenly I managed to let out a massive shrieking scream, just as he let out a massive load of spunk all over the back of my head. My mates then alerted to the scene jumped up and started legging it down the quarry, with me not far behind completely hysterical covered in some nut job’s jizz. We ran and we ran until we were out way out of target. Stopping to look back we found he’d vanished, as had his little pal. All three of us were shaking, covered in grass stains and quarry dust and I was, well we know what I was covered in.
Walking back through the fields I was beyond myself with panic. If I go home covered in spunk then my Mum was going to know I had bunked off school! Like that is how that scene would play out! Anyway, one of my mates ran into a shop and bought two cans of Panda coke and poured them over my head, whilst refusing to touch and screaming. Somebody probably suggested that I might be pregnant. It was a bad moment. Fourteen years old with cheap coke and a flasher's spunk soaked hair.
When I finally got home my Mum asked if I’d had swimming today. I mumbled replied, yes and swiftly went for a shower. Not ever mentioning the true facts of what had happened that day.
I wish I could say that episode made me think twice about truancy. It didn’t. But to this day I don’t like Asda and I’m suspicious of any man with a Jack Russell.
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