Chav 4.
Getting out.
As with all of these stories, this is inspired by, and dedicated to, Ronin.
CHAPTER ONE:
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS.
Sandra Taylor, named by her parents after Sandra Olsson from the film Grease, conceived her first daughter, Becky, by accident, at a rave party in the Hacienda nightclub while celebrating her ninteenth birthday.
She had been high on ecstasy for most of that night and of the five men who had ended up shagging her, she only actually remembered three of them. And only one of the three with any clarity.
The first had slipped her some ecstasy tablets, danced with her, almost immediately helping himself to a hardcore feel of her shapely young figure on the dance floor, before he urgently pulled her into a shadowy corner of the club and fucked her, standing up and pressed against one of the industrial styled pillars.
She remembered, through the drug induced haze of fun, noise, freaky light-shows and the smells of stale sweat and heady perfumes, the feel of his hands digging firmly into the cheeks of her bared arse.
She remembered as well, reaching up over her head with both hands to grab the vertical girder-pillar, wrapping her legs around his waist, while he took her weight and shoved his iron hard cock deep inside her hot, damp pussy and excitedly pounded her for a loud, sweaty and frantic five minutes.
All too soon he tensed up, groaned loudly in her ear and emptied his balls noisily inside her.
The ecstasy made it good, made it that she didn't care about the hot spunk spurting unprotected into her pussy, or about the other random men who leaned in to get her big tits out so they could fondle, squeeze and even suck on her nipples while she was getting fucked.
She might even have remembered someone sticking a finger or two up her arse while she'd been getting dicked, but she was never too sure if that had been real or imagined.
The other two had had her a couple of hours later when Sandy and a girlfriend were talked into going into the toilets with two lads for a line of coke or two and somehow Sandy and found herself getting fucked by the both of them. Her friend had rebuked her suitor's crude advances and left, so he had instead shoved his way into the other cubicle with Sandy and her date.
She had been sat in the lap of the other lad with his cock stuffed in her pussy when the newcomer shoved his way into their cubicle in with them. He had just leaned over her back and shoved his cock straight up Sandra's arse.
She remembered both of them shooting their loads into her pussy one after the other. Maybe the one buggering her had swapped holes toward the end, once his pal had shot his load. Or they'd ended up sharing her pussy, double penetrating her and coming at the same time. She hadn't been able to remember clearly.
What she hadn't remembered at all was, toward dawn, being escorted to some bed-sit by another two lads, because she was borderline overdosed and dehydrated and unable to stay upright or remember much of anything.
Once back in the bed-sit, the two lads had stripped her, pulled her into one of their beds and spent the next few hours ganging up on her, taking turns and switching holes before they shared her holes between them and then spit-roasted her, even though she was mostly unconscious all the way through the ordeal.
When she finally started to come around they had at last thrown her out of their bed-sit and left her full of spunk and having to make her own way home.
She found her way to a taxi rank and only really recovered a sense of awareness when she got home.
Once confirmed pregnant, Sandy selected the first of the three she was aware of, as he was the only one who had given her his phone number, and she had declared him the father of her baby.
The relationship didn't last, as the 'father' spent too much time and money pursuing his recreational drugs obsession and Sandy Taylor gave birth to Becky alone.
The only lasting effect Sandra took with her of the relationship was her own interest in drugs, beginning with ecstasy and quickly shifting over to cocaine.
By the time Becky was starting to crawl, her mother had been through five more failed relationships before she met the right man, managed to slip the grip that drugs had on her and had given birth to her second daughter Jeni.
For a decade the family was relatively happy, though poor. However, Sandy unfortunately became tired of being a stay at home mum and one day bumped into Becky's 'father' again. And so she started an excited and drug fuelled affair. The affair lasted three months before Jeni's father recognised the change to Sandy's behaviour and confronted her. Sandy threw him out and moved Becky's 'father' in instead.
That lasted six months during which time all of the family's possessions were sold for drugs and the girls were given a sudden and harsh, though non-interactive, education on filthy sex practices and drug abuse through the inappropriate, thoughtless lack of care of Sandy and her fella, having no concept of privacy or decency abused each other and substances all over the house at all times of the day leaving doors wide open for anyone, including the daughters, to see and hear.
It was Jeni who went desperately to her father to beg him to help. And Becky's 'father' was forcefully removed from the house. Sandy was forced into rehab and Jeni's father moved back in to look after the girls.
Sandy kicked the drugs for another five years but their influence got hold of her again and soon she was being dragged down and Becky started to experiment as well. Jeni's father found himself unable to cope and tried to leave and take Jeni with him but the younger daughter felt too responsible for her mother to abandon her and she stayed.
Becky's 'father' tried to move back in but none of the Taylor women wanted him back and soon enough, less than a year later, he was arrested, tried and convicted of dealing in large amounts of illegal substances and sentenced to ten years.
For the next few years, Sandy Taylor struggled with her addiction, with supporting her daughters and with trying to keep jobs, debts, and relationships with man after unsuitable man from spiraling out of all control.
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Becky stood in the living room doorway, leaning against the doorframe, thinking coldly about her upbringing and about her mother.
She could see her mother's failures clearly, as though illuminated by a spotlight. It was just like her mother's life was a repeatedly tossed coin.
Heads - she'd spend some time being a dutiful mother, working hard, paying her way, paying her debts, head down and responsible. Then the coin would toss again.
Tails - she'd abandon her duty and responsibility and dive head first into a degrading life of drug fuelled debauchery, loosing herself in sex and drugs and thinking she was enjoying herself.
Sandra's latest coin toss had come up tails. Becky watched and she shook her head, knowing what this was and where it would lead them, straight down another downward spiral.
Sandy Taylor was platinum blonde, her hair, collar length and wild, was mussed into a style vaguely reminiscent of a mullet. She was short and buxom, wide hips and big tits, all tightly packed in snug jeans and a sunshine yellow v-neck t-shirt.
Becky could see her mother when she looked in a mirror, there was a undeniable similarity but her mum was rounder, more generous, her face now somewhat lined with age and experience.
Becky could just about admit to herself, though she rarely felt the desire, that her mum still looked pretty good, at least for an older woman.
Right now she was sharing the sofa with her latest boyfriend and he was sharing a bag of cocaine with her which was dumped on the glass coffee table along with all the other usual paraphernalia.
Kasey Parker was well into his fifties, a wild shock of gray hair pulled back into a pony tail sat like a gray squirrel on top of his head. A really old gray squirrel. There a dumb hippy beard that looked unkempt and vile stuck around a cruel thin mouth. He was stocky, not too tall, but he was bulky with muscle inside a suit that was too good for him, tailored and expensive, it made him look more quality and sophisticated than he could ever actually be.
The expensive suit, and the fact that he always had cocaine and other drugs on him when he came around and plenty of cash, told Becky that he would either be some yuppie businessman, which was unlikely - where would her mum have met some one like him? Or a drug dealer. Which was much more likely.
Becky tended to dislike whoever her mum started shagging. Either because they were absolute slime balls or because of the way they tried to be liked by her, get in her good books, she liked it when they bought her gifts but it always felt false, they were doing it to get with her mum, get their feet under the table, not because they liked Becky for herself.
The slime balls either treated her like shit, like she was in the way, or they tried to fuck her, or worse still get her to join in with them. Have a threesome with her own mum? Like that was ever going to happen!
Looking back, and now that she was a little older, she did recognise she had at times overreacted to the ones who had tried to befriend her.
And she could admit, to herself at least, that she had deliberately driven a few of the nicer ones away but men were untrustworthy. In her experience even the ones who had seemed nice would soon have turned around once they'd got a foot in the door. That's what she told herself. She'd done her mum and herself a favour by forcing out the ones who seemed nice. They would have shown their true colours sooner or later all the same.
She couldn't tell about this Parker fella yet. He was rich and quite fun in a way, cocky and supremely confident, to the point of arrogance which was the kind of man who had always made her mum wet, but there was something underneath that Becky could see, a cruel streak that he seemed to barely be keeping under control. Plus Becky didn't like the way he looked at her. Undressing her. Fucking her with his eyes.
He was going to be another one of those who would want to fuck her too. Probably try to get her to join him and her mum in bed.
Her mind was already made up. She'd have to break them up some how. But she wasn't sure how to go about it this time.
