Steph here. Are you thinking, Oh, that’s the older slut who set Beth up?

Yes, and no.

Read my story and then decide.

Aberdeen is not quite the boom city it once was. A lot of the jobs and big companies have gone, but not all. Like everywhere else in Scotland, times are hard, and money is tight. After the horrors of Covid, many places in the hospitality sector struggle, and many are closed.

The Strutting Cockerel is not one of these. It thrives, but it didn’t always. Ken and Jenny are close friends. Sadly, Jenny’s health isn’t great, and she is unable to work. Ken single-handedly runs the pub. It’s a great place, but some time ago there were very few punters. It needed a USP.

Unique Selling Point.

Yes, there's football, slot machines, and darts but that’s not enough.

The answer came unexpectedly one night.

In the past I was a dancer in my native Yorkshire. Nothing really daring, but suggestive. The pub was fairly empty, good music was playing, and the lights were dimmed.

I’d had a number of vodkas when the one and only Tina Turner’s voice belted out “Private Dancer”

Before I knew it, I was on the bar top. It was one of my old numbers. I still had the moves. I may be older, but I know I have a great body. Really curvy butt and massive tits. The chatter and laughter stilled. All eyes were on me. I gave it my best moves, raising my already short skirt higher to reveal black stockings and suspenders and a tiny black thong. I could see some of the older guys drooling hands furiously working their crotch. I loved it. Skirt higher again, butt virtually naked and gyrating and wiggling. Then I pulled off my skimpy top and there were my best assets for them to lust over. Beautiful big tits trying to escape from a black lacy bra. With a final flourish, I caressed my boobs, blew them a kiss and jumped off the bar. Huge roars of more and take them off met me.

The seeds of Ken’s USP took shape.

When the pub closed for the night Ken, Steve who of course was there, and I discussed it. Let the word get around about the impromptu “exotic” dancing, suggesting I might be there the next night to offer a repeat performance. I don’t need to tell you that the word DID get around. We are talking about horny, hard guys from the docks not to mention those poor guys whose wives had shut up shop and for them, an open wet pussy and blow job were distant memories.

As agreed, Steve and I went to The Strutting Cockerel, entering separately. The place was jumping. The smell of testosterone overpowering and an air of primeval lust could be tasted. They had come to see me, well not all of me, they just wanted a first-hand view of pussy, bum and tits. Ok, they would not be disappointed. Steve slipped behind the bar to help Ken.

A platform area had been set up with a spotlight. I could hardly breathe. I was so horny and excited. I was soaking wet, and I knew my nipples were really erect and pointing. I was the only female there. The lights dimmed. The Pussy Cat Dolls teased “Don’t Cha”. I moved through the parting crowd of gagging males, removed my coat and got to work.

I'm from Yorkshire but I'm now an honorary Aberdonian. My carefully chosen outfit was one of my favourites. Steve and I love role play and I have many beautiful, sexy costumes plus every conceivable kind of lingerie, most of it totally x-rated. Lots of toys but that's between Steve and I.

This was my tartan outfit. Appropriate don't you think? Micro kilt, snug-fitting, low-cut waistcoat, black hold-ups, and a skimpy black thong, no not my crotchless one. I wore a black shelf bra under the waistcoat. It leaves my breasts bare but pushes them up so they're practically popping out the waistcoat. Finally, I had black killer heels which yes, I CAN dance in.

The music continued. something really raunchy but I couldn't tell you what it was. Instinct took over. I felt amazing and powerful.

Yep. I had the power and control here and I loved it. I gyrated, pouted, strutted, and slithered. I bent over many times to cheers and chants. My movements were good. The micro kilt skimmed my cheeks. They got the full view. I skilfully slipped open two buttons on the waistcoat. My girls were on display, well not quite. They were not seeing my spectacular nipples tonight. Hold something back. Have them wanting more. To finish off I picked out Tam, a regular affectionately known as Tam the Ram, who had a seat right beside the platform. His hand was grabbing his crotch, and his face had a massive grin. He got his own lap dance!

And so began the revival of The Strutting Cockerel.

Does all this make me a slut?

Such an interesting word, I think. Connotations of disapproval and distaste. Quite Victorian really and smacking of double standards.

A question guys. Who would you rather bed?

A prim, proper lady or a “slut”?

We all know the answer.

I prefer to think S.L.U.T.

SEXY

LITHE

UNTAMED

TIGRESS

Yes, I am all of these and proud of it.

For too long females were not supposed to enjoy sex and should be submissive to their husband's demands.

Fuck that! I'll be submissive if it's part of the game.

Why should men have all the fun?

I love sex. Every way, every shape and size, every age. Don't be fooled into thinking older guys can't give pleasure. Oh yes, they can! They’ve got a lifetime of experience.

I was introduced to sex fairly early; I stress though legally early. I was a typical 16-year-old. Just discovering how to use my female wiles. Not very tall but well-developed. Oh, did I tell you I'm also called Red? Yep, red hair teamed with green cat's eyes. You can think of me as Steph. Named Stephanie I was always going to choose that. Fanny was definitely a no-no!

It was summer and my family had relatives who ran a farm in the Yorkshire Dales. My brothers and I were shipped off there during the school holidays. Having brothers meant there were always males around to practise my flirting.

One particular day, I had headed up to the falls, where there was a gorgeous pool. I was alone as the boys were playing football. The relentless sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky. Total isolation not a sound but the splash of the falls.

The water was so inviting but I had no costume.

Was I brave enough? No one around. The clothes came off. The feeling of freedom enveloped me, and I stood arms stretched skywards and absorbed the moment.

I knew the water would be icy on my tingling skin, so I dived straight in from a rock. I felt like a mermaid. The chill ran through me. I lay there like a starfish, eyes closed.

I don't know what made me open them, but I suddenly was aware I was no longer alone.

Standing by the water’s edge was Steve. Not one of my brother’s friends, but a summer worker on a break from university.

I watched in fascination as he slowly and deliberately removed his clothes. I couldn't breathe. His chest was tanned and muscular from the manual work. Slowly the jeans came down. I stared as if I was hypnotized. I had never seen a penis or knew that they were fringed with hair, jet black, not like my red bush. I wanted to feel his manhood so much. He walked into the water, unsmilingly, never taking his eyes off my face. The rest of me was underwater.

He put his hands on my face, stroking my hair back. Then he lowered his face to kiss me. I had been kissed before by a few fumbling boys, but this was different. Slowly his tongue opened my Inexperienced mouth and started to explore.

What a sensation. I was a goner then his hand slipped below the water and found my untouched breasts. He caressed slowly, teasing my nipples. Clearly, unlike me, he was no virgin. I loved it and arched back. Before I could think, his hand moved down, between my legs. Ooh, this was getting really naughty now. Some of the girls at school had been fingered. I was not one of them.

They spoke about snatched moments, usually in the woods. Schoolmates learning their trade would put their eager, greedy hands up their skirts and pull their panties down. Then they would poke and prod and push till they found what they were looking for under their pubic hair.

The thought of some of my classmates doing that didn't appeal, but the thought of someone pulling my pants down did.

I was so glad I had waited. This was no inexperienced schoolboy. This was something else. He knew I was inexperienced. He pushed further. There was a short burst of pain as he popped my cherry. I cried out. His hand stilled and he looked at me unquestioningly. I took his hand and moved it back inside.

I knew nothing about pleasure spots, but he found what I now know was my clit. Ooh, the ecstasy. During this not a word was spoken.

Just when I thought I would erupt, he kissed me fiercely and swam to the edge. He dressed, took one last look and left. I was bereft but glowing at the same time if that makes sense? I was now a woman, well not completely. But boy did I have something to brag about to my school friends when I returned to school.

I never saw Steve again that summer, as our family went home the next day. I never forgot him.

It was many years before fate brought us together again.