Bingo Bonk
"A lucky streak at Mecca Bingo leads to jackpot action with a thick granny chic regular"
Going to Mecca Bingo with my nan wasn't my idea of a wild Friday night. But she'd broken her arm and needed someone to dab her cards, so here I was.
The place was exactly what you'd expect—mostly pensioners, sticky tables, and a caller who sounded like he'd rather be anywhere else. But in the corner, surrounded by about fifteen cards, was someone who didn't fit the demographic.
She was maybe forty, thick in a way that looked intentional, with dyed red hair, heavy makeup, and a leopard print top that showed impressive cleavage. She was chain-smoking a vape and absolutely destroying the competition.
"House!" she shouted for the third time that hour.
"That's Linda," my nan whispered. "She's here every night. Bit of a character."
Character was one word for it.
Nan sent me to the bar for tea and biscuits. Linda was there, collecting her latest winnings.
"New blood," she said, looking me up and down. "You Doris's grandson?"
"That's me."
"Thought so. She talks about you." She smiled—a proper smile, not unkind. "You're cuter than she let on."
"Thanks?"
"It's a compliment, love. Take it." She collected her cash, tucked it into her bra. "You playing or just dabbing?"
"Just helping nan."
"Boring." She flagged down the bartender. "Get this one a real drink. He looks like he needs it."
One drink turned into three. Linda was surprisingly good company—sharp, funny, absolutely zero filter.
"You're not like I expected," I admitted.
"What, you expected some old biddy counting down to death?" She laughed. "I'm forty-two, divorced, and spending my ex-husband's money on bingo and good times. Life's too short for boring."
"Seems like a solid philosophy."
"It is. Speaking of which—" She leaned closer. "You fancy getting out of here? There's a quiet spot behind the building. Nice night for some fresh air."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"Unless you've got a better idea."
The "quiet spot" was the loading bay behind the bingo hall. Dark, secluded, and apparently Linda's regular escape route.
"I don't usually go for younger lads," she said, already unbuttoning her leopard print top. "But you're fit and I've had a good night. Call it celebration."
"Happy to help you celebrate."
She kissed me—confident, skilled, the kind of kiss that comes from experience. Her hands were already at my belt.
"Let me show you something, love."
She dropped to her knees on the concrete, and I immediately understood what experience meant. Her mouth was incredible—none of the hesitation of younger girls, just pure skill and enthusiasm.
"Fuck—Linda—"
"That's it, baby. Let me take care of you."
I didn't last long. She swallowed everything, wiped her mouth, and stood with a satisfied grin.
"Now your turn." She hopped up on a shipping crate, spread her legs. "Show me what the younger generation's got."
I dropped to my knees, buried my face under her skirt. She moaned, hands in my hair.
"Oh, that's nice—right there—bit higher—perfect—"
She came quickly—"Experience knows what it wants," she explained later—and pulled me up for another kiss.
"Inside me," she breathed. "Properly."
I obliged. She was wet, ready, and absolutely not shy about what she wanted.
"Harder—come on—I'm not fragile—"
I gave her everything. She came twice more before I finished, pulling out to spill on her thigh.
We cleaned up, fixed our clothes. Linda was already lighting her vape.
"Well," she said. "That was fun."
"More than fun."
"Flatterer." She kissed my cheek. "I'm here every night except Sundays. Pop by sometime. I'll teach you how to actually win at bingo."
"Just bingo?"
She grinned. "And maybe some other games. I know loads."
I walked back in to find nan had won the jackpot in my absence.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"Getting fresh air."
"With Linda?" She gave me a knowing look. "Good. She needs someone to keep her out of trouble."
I had a feeling I was going to be getting in trouble instead.
Best bingo night of my life.