4 October 2007 - ongoing
story so far...
I've been working on this piece for ten years now, on and off. I debated about posting it as that can impact upon publishing options, but as I've decided to go with self-publishing this one and parts of it have already appeared in the public domain, here's Seth part one.
I've been working on this piece for ten years now, on and off. I debated about posting it as that can impact upon publishing options, but as I've decided to go with self-publishing this one and parts of it have already appeared in the public domain, here's Seth part one.
please note: any sexual harassment or threats against me or my family due to this story will be reported to the authorities and I will pursue the case through the courts. this story is fictional. nothing about is real.
By Dani Brown
My routine is always the same. I wake-up. I take a shower. I eat. I go to work. I finish work. On my way home I stop at the takeaway. When I get home I take a bath. I then go to sleep.
Sometimes I consider that it might be a good idea to wash my sheets, but I never get around to it. Every morning when I wake up my sheets are wet and sticky. I wonder what I dream of. Terry says that I talk in my sleep but when I ask him what I say he just gives me a strange look then walks off to his room and slams the door. I would really like to know what I dream of. I wish that Terry would tell me what I say when I’m sleeping. I hate it when he’s cold towards me. I wish that he’d give me a chance. How can he know he won’t like it until he gives me a chance? Its not like he’s seeing anybody.
Most of my thoughts are of Terry. He’s the first thing I think about in the mornings when I wake up. Sometimes I wonder if my dreams are about him. Whenever I’m with a girl, it’s Terry I’m thinking of. Terry’s arse even as I thrust in and out of her. When she moans and screams, I pretend it’s Terry.
I like blonde girls who don’t wear much make-up. I like them taller and stronger than me. With pretty blue eyes so it’s like I’m looking into Terry’s eyes. I can never get a man. I don’t want one, unless it’s Terry. I prefer the girl on top, that way I can pretend Terry is dominating me. I like it when she grabs my wrists and holds them down.
I could hear Terry stirring in the next room, I rubbed my eyes and looked around my small bedroom. Cold sunlight was streaming in through the holes in my curtains. On bright days it creates odd shadows on my walls. Every morning when Terry wakes up, after he takes a piss, he goes straight to the kitchen for his breakfast. Sometimes we don’t have any food in the house. Terry gets really mad if I spend the money on a new record instead. Sometimes he’ll shout, “All I ask for is Cornflakes and you can’t even get that right,” at me loudly, so the neighbours can hear. I don’t like it when he shouts at me. It makes me feel small and insignificant, like I’d never be good enough for him.
I like to take a shower before eating. I usually have to find a towel from my floor. With two men living together, we don’t do much laundry. Sometimes I try to, but it angers Terry.
Terry doesn’t like his clothes washed. I can’t imagine why, but I like that about him. He smells like a man in his sweaty clothes. If Terry doesn’t like his clothes washed, I don’t like my clothes washed. But I do like to have clean towels. It would be nice to wake up in the morning and discover that Terry woke up extra early to do a load of towels special for me. And then have him hand me a warm towel as I get out the shower.
I found a towel that didn’t smell too bad just as I heard Terry’s door slam. I usually wait a few minutes before I leave my room, that way I can walk past Terry when he’s in the kitchen. I like to pass him when I’m naked with my morning wood. I always try to get his attention. But he ignores me, even after I grab his arse. I like him to see what he’s missing. Although, if I asked one of the girls I’m sure she would give him a pretty good description. Some mornings I like to run my fingers down his back. He always wears a thin tee shirt, so it is very easy to pretend the fabric isn’t there.
I wait in my room until I hear the bathroom door open and Terry entering the kitchen. Then I leave my room with the dirty towel hanging over my shoulder. “Good morning,” I say. He doesn’t even look at me. He’s looking out the window at the cold frosty ground. I go over to him and still he doesn’t look at me or even speak to me. I brush my penis up against his leg, I don’t do that every morning but it’s becoming a more common occurrence. Still, he ignores me. I give up. If he wakes up early, then I have time to play with him a bit before I go take a shower. But he doesn’t often wake up early.
I still have my morning visitor when I take my shower, I always do. Each morning, I jerk-off with the steamy water dripping down my pale body. I jerk-off thinking of having sex with Terry in the morning instead of spanking it in the shower. I imagine him coming into my bedroom when I’m still asleep and lifting the duvet, the cold air would wake me up, but I’d pretend to be asleep as he inserts his cock into my arse. That would be good. Waking up to him violating me and then pulling it out so he can come on my face. I’d lick up every bit of it. It would be a fine way to start the day.
After I’m done jerking-off I wash my hair. I like to wash my hair every other morning; it keeps it clean while not drying it out too badly. Girls like my long hair. I know that Terry likes black hair. I think I might have it coloured too often, but to impress Terry, it is worth it. Sometimes I imagine Terry running his fingers through my hair. Sometimes I make the girls who hang around the shop do that. The ones whose fingers are about the same size as Terry’s, without paint on their nails. Then I close my eyes and sometimes I can smell him. Terry loves my hair, even more than the girls do – that’s why I take such good care of it.
After I’ve rinsed the conditioner out, I pick up the bar of soap. I wish that it was Terry who would wash my body in the mornings. By the time I’ve rinsed my body the water has run cold. I switch off the shower and reach for the dirty towel. The floor tiles are filthy. If I step on them while wet, little pieces of dirt will stick to my feet. One day I would like to wash the floor again, but I know that it will upset Terry.
I dry myself off while still standing in the shower to prevent my feet from coming into contact with the floor. I let my hair drip cold water down my back so I can lay the towel on the floor to dry my feet. Once my feet are dry I pick up the towel and wrap my hair in it, then I leave the bathroom.
Terry is in the kitchen sitting at the table staring into a bowl of soggy Cornflakes. He doesn’t even turn around, but when he hears me he shouts, “The milk has curdled.” I offer to go to the shop down the road and buy some fresh milk, he tells me to forget about it and gets up. He gives me a disgusted look and goes back to his bedroom. I stand there for a few minutes just looking at the chair he had occupied. It would be cold now, but I sit in it anyway. I pretend I’m sitting on Terry’s lap and the chair suddenly feels warmer. I imagine he’s kissing my neck and has his arms wrapped around my waist. I imagine his fingers running along my stomach going lower and lower and then back up again. I turn my head so I can kiss him, but of course, Terry isn’t really there. He is in his bedroom with the door slammed shut.
I stay seated at the table for another minute before going into my bedroom to get dressed. Now it’s time to find something to wear that doesn’t have a terrible odour. Sometimes, if I have enough change I’ll go to the launderette during my lunch break. I keep clean clothes in the back room at work, but still, I like to get there without smelling too bad. We have a washing machine and tumble drier in the kitchen, but using them really upsets Terry. He really hates anything that is clean. I would love dirty clothes more if I didn’t have to go to work.
My clothes are scattered all over the floor and finding something that doesn’t look like it’s going to start moving on its own accord can be a problem. If Terry ever decides to go out again then I’ll be able to do some laundry, but he hardly ever leaves the house. After sniffing a few tops I find a white jumper that doesn’t smell too bad. It will do until I get to the shop. It doesn’t even have any stains on it. Then I find a pair of old, worn out trousers and put them on without any pants. I end up wearing mismatched socks. Most of my socks are stiff with dirt and sweat. I grab my bag and put as many socks and pants as can fit into it. Terry never comes into my room, so he’ll never notice that I’ve taken them away for washing.
I can hear Terry in his bedroom. It sounds like he is pacing back and forth again. I really hate it when he does that, it means that I’ve upset him. I would go and knock on his door to try and make things right, but he’d only throw something at me.
Terry tried to kill me once. It happened a few months ago. He was sleeping. I stood over him watching his shallow breathing. The temptation was too much. I got into bed with him and wrapped my arms around him. I leant over to kiss him. Terry woke up. He pushed me off the bed. By the time I had gotten over the shock, he was standing over me with a knife. I quickly got up and ran. He chased me outside before giving up. It was a warm summer’s night. I was dressed in boxer shorts and a tatty tee shirt. I went and sat by the tree in the garden and cried. I fell asleep out there. I woke up with aches all over my body, but knowing that Terry had tried to kill me felt much worse.
Sometimes, I think that he has no feelings, except maybe anger. But then I look into his big blue eyes and see something there and anything unpleasant about him just melts away. I wish that he would stop pacing, before it drives me crazy. He doesn’t even have any music on. I wonder what he thinks about locked in his room all day. I spare a glance at the wall that separates me from Terry before going back to the kitchen.
I search out some bread. It has a little mould on it, but I don’t mind, I still put two slices in the toaster. I find some margarine in the fridge. When the toast is finished I have to scrape margarine from the tub. I put on half a pot of coffee and eat my toast. I don’t bother with a plate, there doesn’t appear to be any clean ones. I wish that the smell of brewing coffee would overpower the rotting food. After I’m done eating I look for a mug. I find one that doesn’t look like it has been sitting dirty on the counter for the past month and rinse it out. I need to get some washing up liquid. I’ll do the dishes tonight, when Terry is asleep. When the coffee is done I pour it into the mug and burn my tongue on the first sip. I take it to the lounge, switch on the news channel and sit on the sofa.
Even with the sound turned up I can hear Terry pacing in his room. Everything I do is wrong in Terry’s eyes. I wish that I could do something right because then, he might love me. I wish that he would spend the morning with me before I go to work. I would make him a breakfast much more appetising than Cornflakes. If only he would like me, then I would make sure that there was always something to eat. When we finished our breakfast together, I’d have dessert. Terry would stand to take off his shorts and tee shirt, then he’d sit back down. He would be cold but it wouldn’t take me long to warm him up. I would kneel before him and run my hands up his legs. He would drag his fingers through my still-damp hair, untangling it. I would kiss his knees and lick his thighs. I’d work my tongue over his hard penis and put my mouth on its tip. Slowly, my mouth would work over it and work it down the back of my throat. He would come and I would swallow. I’d give him a peck on his cheek and then finish getting ready for work. When I finished my coffee, I had an erection. I heard Terry in his room but it was too easy to imagine him sat unclothed at the kitchen table. I reached my hand into my trousers and took my penis out, like I do every morning after I finish my coffee, and jerked-off while sitting on the sofa. I am always careful not to get jiz on my clothes, so as always, it ended up on the sofa. I looked at my watch and saw that it was time to leave.
Each morning before I go, I say goodbye to Terry. I pause by his door. He must still be angry because he’s still pacing. I hate seeing him like that. I also hate it when he throws heavy objects at me. But I let myself into his room anyhow, I never bother to knock on his door. He stops his pacing and looks at me.
“Goodbye Terry. Have a nice day.”
“You’re so fucking predictable. There’s no longer any point in telling you to leave me alone.”
I like it when he swears. It turns me on, but I’m already running late. Terry bends over, I’m tempted to grab his arse. I inch closer to him. Before I touch him he is standing straight and has a crumpled, dirty sock in his hand. He throws it at my head and reaches for more dirty laundry from the floor but is careful not to bend over again. At least he isn’t throwing books today.
“Do you want anything?”
“Yeah, for you to get the fuck away from me.”
I leave his room, slamming the door behind me. I try convincing myself that he’s just playing hard to get and pick up my coat with a smile on my face.
Once outside my breath freezes in the air. It is very cold, despite the bright sunlight. I wish that I were in bed with Terry. Our naked bodies touching as we look into each other’s eyes. And he tells me that he loves me. He strokes my hair and he kisses my neck. And I fall asleep in his arms.
“Look where you’re going!”
I’m quite angry about being rudely awakened from my daydream by some maniac speeding past. He had plenty of space and had no reason to shout. I shake my fist but it is too late, he is out of my vision. I look back at my feet and continue walking. I try to get back to the thought of being warm and cosy in Terry’s arms, but I can’t. I can picture it, but I don’t feel it. I give up.
I look over and see a group of girls. One of them looks like Terry. I wonder what her name is. I’ll probably be having her soon, unless Terry comes to his senses. I just hope that she is better than that girl from last night.
I can tell that they want me to stop and chat with them, but I really should be getting to the shop. It won’t have any effect on my chances with the heavy, blonde one. Girls adore me. And even if not stopping ruined my chances, I wouldn’t care because it is Terry who I want. I like them to scream when I fuck them, so Terry can hear what he’s missing. Chances are I’ll take some blonde haired, blue eyed curvy beauty home tonight. As I walk past the girls I can feel their eyes digging into me and undressing me. I turn towards them and smile. I hear them whispering and giggling as I walk off.
When I arrive at work, Emma, my assistant, is waiting by the door.
“You’re late, yet again.”
I’m not that late, only ten minutes. If it weren’t for the till, we wouldn’t need to be there until the shop actually opens.
“Who’s in charge here?” I ask her and grin.
She’s rubbing her hands together.
“I’m freezing, just unlock the damn door.”
“Why didn’t you wear any gloves?”
“Oh just shut up and let me in.”
I have my hand in my pocket touching the key but I pretend to search for it. Emma knows that I’m only playing with her.
“Oh come on, I know you’ve got the key.”
I still pretend that I don’t.
“I must have left it at home.”
She reaches towards my coat pocket and I jump back.
“I’ve left my gloves and scarf in the shop,” she whines, and gives me the sad puppy-dog look.
“That doesn’t work on me.”
I pull the key by the long chain out of my pocket, she snatches it. She’s shivering. She can’t get the key into the lock. I take it from her and unlock the door.
“It’s not much better in here,” she says and switchs on the lights.
“Well, at least you can wear your gloves and scarf until the heat kicks in, and as an added bonus there’s no wind.”
She rolls her eyes at me. I watch as she goes behind the till and puts on her gloves and scarf. The heat in this place takes forever to warm the shop. I can’t afford to leave it on overnight, although business is starting to pick up, so maybe by next winter.
I go into the back to open the safe and get the till money out. I drop my bag of socks and pants next to the safe. I hear Emma switch the radio on, there are still fifteen minutes before the shop is due to open so we can listen to whatever we want. I grab the bag with money in it. I pause in the doorframe and watch as Emma dances around the shop. Luckily the blinds are shut. It’s not like Emma is a bad dancer, it is the type of dance, or more, dancing in general. It would betray her true personality to people walking past the windows. She is all smiles and giggles. Watching her makes me smile. I join her.
I have a lot of fun with Emma each morning before the shop opens and each evening when it closes. She is my one true friend. I wish that Terry would be my friend, then maybe our relationship could progress further. It is impossible to imagine, even for a moment, that I am dancing with Terry and not Emma. She is everything that Terry isn’t. She likes me for who I am, not what I pretend to be. She sees beyond my appearance, something that the girls I bring home don’t. She actually cares about me, unlike Terry and the girls.
“Come on,” she said, “we need to get ready to open. We don’t need the customers seeing what we do when they’re not around, we’d never live it down.”
I gave her a look of disappointment. She is the only person who I can ever have any fun with. I enjoy teasing Terry, but it’s no fun because I never get anywhere. I picked up the bag of money that I had dropped on the floor and went over to the till. I counted it last night, so there was no point in recounting it, I just dumped it in. While I was busy at the till, Emma opened the blinds letting bright sunlight into the shop and allowing me to see the group of losers waiting to be let in. They spend all day, everyday in here. They hardly ever buy anything. The real customers come during the evening. I’m convinced that this place would be a thriving business if I were allowed to stay open into the night. Emma let the boys in. I bet they just come in to stare at her all day long.
“Hi Seth,” they say one after the other and stand before me like they are awaiting my approval or something.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
They ignore my question, which pisses me off. They hang out in my record shop all day and mentally rape my best friend, yet ignore my question.
“Boys, are you going to buy anything today?”
All three reach their hands into their pockets in unison. They each pull out a handful of pennies.
“Why don’t you get lost.”
No matter how I say it, they always ignore it. I once phoned their mothers who promised me that their sons would stay away from the shop unless they intend to purchase something. The boys were back the next day.
“What’s put you in such a bad mood this fine morning?”
I see no point in standing there listening to them ridicule me. I turn my back on them. I know they won’t leave, but hopefully they’ll work their way into the corner they normally stand in while trying to look cool.
I need to get changed before any potential customers come in, my clothes smell like they’ve been lying on my floor for two months (they probably have been). No one, except the little shits, normally come in before lunchtime at the earliest, but sometimes a new customer with plans of actually buying something will come in. I don’t want to smell like stale sweat if that happens.
“Hey Emma, can you watch the shop for a minute?”
In a cardboard box, I keep freshly laundered, folded clothes. I pick up a black jumper and breathe in the floral scent of fabric softener. I wish there was a more masculine kind available at the shop near my house, but flowers smell better than my floor. I hold it up to my nose and it rubs against my face. I wish the clothes Terry wears were this soft, but they are crusted with dirt. I like his scent, but I don’t like having what I hope is chocolate rubbing up close to my face when I steal a shirt from his room just to sniff and keep in bed with me at night. I remove some more tops from the box before finding some pants and matching socks neatly rolled into pairs. Just beneath the layer of undergarments is a layer of trousers. I take the first pair, tight fitting jeans. I’ll wear them home tonight, maybe Terry will take notice. I take off the clothes I wore in and douse myself with cheap deodorant. I may have taken a shower, but I still put on vile-smelling clothes. The deodorant contains an antibacterial agent, which might work in killing off any little germs that came into contact with my clean body in the practice of wearing dirty laundry. I would love it if I were putting on warm clothes fresh from the tumble drier, but cold clean clothes are better than what I was wearing. I leave the dirty clothes on top of the bag of socks and pants. Emma doesn’t seem to be offended by me leaving stinky laundry in the backroom. She knows that I bring it to the launderette during the lunch hour. She has never been to my house, so she doesn’t know that I have a working washing machine and tumble drier in the kitchen.
I go back to the shop. I know it is pretty pointless to hope for customers this early, so I am surprised when I see a young couple talking to Emma.
One of the boys has left the corner.
“Why do you always get changed in the shop?”
“Go back to your corner, or better yet, go to school.”
I go over to Emma and the customers.
“I’ve got this covered, Seth.”
She smiles. I walk away, but I can tell the young couple are going to spend quite a lot. Maybe I’ll be able to get some fresh milk for Terry. I know that we need some margarine too and I really need to go to the launderette.
I like to make sure all of the CDs are in the right places. People have this terrible habit of moving things about. It really annoys me. I don’t see how hard it is to put a CD back in the correct place if you have decided not to buy it. I look up after having collected a pile of CDs that weren’t put in the right places and see the young couple by the till. They must be ordering something. I go back to my chore. When I’m about half way done, Emma comes over.
“Can I have the keys to the locker?”
I look at her in shock, no one has wanted anything out of the locker since the shop opened. If they are serious about buying some rarity, then I can purchase a bottle of champagne to share with Terry tonight. He has a weakness for the stuff, probably because we can’t afford it. I gave her the keys and got back to putting away CDs. I decided to let Emma take care of the sale. I didn’t want to jinx anything.
Terry is going to be so happy when I bring home champagne and groceries. I’m not even going to bring home a girl tonight. And instead of stopping by the takeaway, I’ll cook Terry steak for supper. I’ll need to go to the bank first to deposit today’s profits before I go shopping. I won’t have to worry about next month’s rent either. I think that I shall get two bottles of champagne, maybe even three. I’ll only have one glass. Terry will drink the rest. He is nicer to me when he’s drunk. If he passes out, I can help him get undressed. Then I’ll cuddle up next to him and twist my finger in his stringy blonde hair while inhaling the smell of dirt intermixed with his sweat. I’ll kiss his cheeks and his mouth. I’ll taste the champagne as I stick my tongue in his mouth. He’ll be too drunk to stop me as I kiss his chest and lick his nipples. I would rather have Terry stick his fingers in my arse, but that’s what I’ll do to him tonight. Then I’ll shove his cock up my arse and for once in my life I’ll be on top and in control. When he wakes up tomorrow morning, he’ll remember some of what transpired during the night. I’ll be lying next to him with my arm wrapped over his chest. At first, he’ll probably feel violated but as he wakes up he’ll realise that he had never had such great sex. Terry will wake me up gently by stroking my hair.
He’ll kiss my forehead. I’ll turn to face him.
“What’s kept in the locker?”
“I asked what is kept in the locker?”
The boy, the tall lanky one with oozing spots said this very slowly, like I was an idiot. I was just beginning to get to the good part of the daydream too.
“It’s none of your business. Now get out of here!”
I’m quite tempted to drag him by his ear out of the shop, but he’ll probably file assault charges.
“Come on Seth, you can tell me. We’re friends.”
“First of all, I am not your friend. Second, you shouldn’t be here right now, you should be in school. And third, you will never be able to afford anything that is kept in the locker.”
I stared at him. He must have thought I was looking inside of him because he shivered. I was actually looking at this huge whitehead. It is disgusting. I am so grateful that I never had spots as a teenager.
“Is it like CDs and stuff?”
“Why are you still talking to me?”
“I want to know what’s kept in there.”
“And I told you, it is none of your business and even if it was you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”
I feel like slapping him. I just want to be left alone so I can continue with my favourite daydream. I try to stop staring at his spot, but it is mesmerising. I find myself with my arm in midair and my thumb and index finger in a pincher position. The kid backs away, which knocks me out of my daze. I look around and see the young couple watching me. I hope that Emma didn’t tell them that I own this place. It might scare them off. If they are buying something out of the locker then they will probably come back to buy more things. Trying to pick at some little shit’s spots may put them off shopping in here and ordering things, especially if they can get whatever they want from EBay just as easily.
I put away all of the displaced CDs during my daydream, but I try to look busy. I hear Emma come out of the backroom. I look at her in an effort to send her some sort of mental signal to keep the keys until the young couple leave. She is very good at understanding my body language. She gets the message and goes to the till with the records. I get back to trying to look busy. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but she has least two records. I only get in exceptionally rare vinyl, which is always kept in the locker because of the high value. I don’t want Shit-head’s spots exploding over it.
If the couple are buying two records, then they must be serious customers. Terry is going to be so pleased when I tell him. I’m going to buy all of his favourite foods tonight. I’m going to get him lots of Cornflakes and expensive, nice milk for his breakfast tomorrow.
I can’t help but watch Emma make the transaction. I see her take out the notebook. They are ordering something. I anxiously wait for them to leave. The seconds seem to tick by like minutes, turning each minute into an hour. I hardly wait for the door to shut behind them before I half-run, half-skip across the shop.
“What did they buy? What did they order? How much did they spend?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“They spent one thousand pounds.”
“Really? Did they pay in cash?”
She shakes her head yes and is smiling. I hardly believe it. I’ve only had the shop for six months and already someone has spent that much in one transaction. I’ve got to phone Terry and tell him. Or maybe I should surprise him. I’ll be more likely to get him in bed tonight if I surprise him. My daydream just may turn into my reality. Maybe I won’t even have to get him drunk. I hope that he’ll just fall into my arms and kiss me. But we won’t just fall on the floor and fuck right there. I’m going to cook him supper first. I’m going to convince Terry to join me for my nightly bath. I’ll wash every inch of his pale body and he’ll wash mine. I have never taken a bath with any of the girls. I’ve been waiting to take one with Terry since I met him.
“Do you want to phone Terry?”
“Huh? Oh, I think I would rather surprise him.”
Emma has never met Terry, but she knows all about him. I haven’t told her just how much I like Terry. She just thinks he is my roommate and a close friend. I don’t know what Emma would think if I told her. She’d probably think he is crazy and really mean for not wanting me. Everyone wants me, except Emma, I’m not her type and she’s not mine. Anyhow, I don’t want a relationship, unless it’s with Terry. Even if Emma was my type I wouldn’t take her home because it would only be a one-night stand and I wouldn’t do that to her. That’s another reason why I like Emma, she doesn’t want to screw me like every other girl around and half the boys. If only Terry was in that half. Maybe now this place has started to turn a profit, he’ll want me.
“Oi!” Emma is off chasing the little shits.
Those fuckers have just run out of the shop with a stack of CDs. If they won’t listen to their mothers, then maybe they will listen to the community officer. Emma will catch them and when she does we’ll keep them in the shop until the support officer shows up and brings them to school. I won’t press charges. Some of their more responsible, less annoying friends come in after school and buy things. Having the little shits arrested might make the responsible ones mad at me, resulting in a curve in their spending. I find the phonebook on a shelf under the till and get the number. They agree to send someone to collect the little shits immediately. I can’t believe they have actually stolen something. This is the only place they have to hang out in. If I permanently banned them, they’d have nowhere to go and no one to annoy. I wouldn’t be bothered by them as much if they purchased things and only came in after school. I’m actually kind of flattered that they try to copy my style.
When Emma arrives back, she is out of breath but she has the little shits trailing her.
“We only wanted to see her run.”
“Yeah, we would have brought back the CDs.”
“You haven’t phoned our mothers again, have you? Mine’ll kill me if she found out I was skiving again.”
“No boys I haven’t phoned your mothers.”
I pause to wait for the relief to sweep over their faces. I don’t need to tell them I phoned for the community support officer instead because she has just walked in. The boys are still looking at me. If I were taller they’d be looking up. It is comical because that is what they are trying to do, but I am shorter than all three. In their pathetic attempt to earn some sort of sympathy they don’t notice the community support officer until she is standing next to them. They flinch.
“You three need to go to school, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“But please. The other kids bully us.”
“Don’t try that on me. You bully them.”
“Don’t send us to school.”
“Come on you are going to school whether you want to or not.”
They actually look intimidated. Real intimidation. Not the fake trying to look smaller so I don’t phone their mothers sort. The community support officer ushers them out of the shop.
“I’ll put these away,” Emma says while grabbing the stack of CDs. “Why don’t you go to the launderette, then I’ll take my lunch.”
Emma doesn’t seem phased by the three little shits.
“Okay,” I tell her and smile. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “They’re just kids.”
She smiles and walks away. She does look alright but I like to make sure. I don’t want anything to happen to her. I watch as she starts to put away the CDs. I leave satisfied that she is fine.
In the backroom I gather up my dirty laundry; I’m running low on wearable socks and pants at home. I’ll have to bring some of what I wash with me tonight. I’ll keep Terry occupied and he’ll be so happy he won’t even notice the freshly laundered socks and pants. Terry will have a glass of champagne as soon as I get home. He’ll probably be on his second or third when I re-emerge from my bedroom wearing nothing but socks. He won’t notice that they’ll be clean socks.
I add the clothes I wore today to the bag of laundry on the floor. I keep a sock of change between the cushions of the sofa. This sofa was meant to be for home, but Terry didn’t like it. It was too clean for his liking. I sit on the sofa thinking of tonight. I’ll need to make a shopping list so I don’t forget anything. I’m going to go to the supermarket. I’ll take a taxi home. Terry will help me put away the groceries. He’ll be so happy he’ll reward me by finally being mine. Maybe he’ll come onto me.
He pins me against the sofa and kisses me. Terry runs his short fat fingers in my hair. It makes my head tingle. The tingling travels to my dick. Terry unzips my trousers. I throw my head back as he takes hold of my penis. I think I’m going to ejaculate and he hasn’t even put his mouth on it yet. As soon as his lips connect with the tip, I jiz. I open my eyes and realise I’m not sitting on the old sofa at home jizzing in Terry’s mouth, I am on the new sofa in the back room. For the second after I opened my eyes, I thought I saw the top of Terry’s head. “Shit!” My jeans are wet and sticky. I take off my boots trying to stay focused. I can wash these jeans today at least. Terry will like them on me, or on his bedroom floor.
I rummage through the box of clothes until I find another pair of jeans. They won’t be on for long and I’ll have my coat on so it doesn’t matter if there’s a hole in them. I usually wear these jeans to attract a girl, but tonight I won’t be needing a girl – it’ll be Terry screaming my name instead. I go into the toilet to get changed. I don’t bother with any pants, there isn’t much point. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be wearing Terry’s pants and he’ll be wearing mine. I re-emerge in the backroom. I stuff my soiled jeans into the bag and quickly put on my boots. Emma will think I died back here if I don’t hurry up.
I dig out the sock of change from the sofa and add it to the bag. I look around the backroom to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I wish Terry was back here helping me. He remembers everything. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I can smell him. I spot the bag of laundry detergent and fabric softener. I can’t have clean clothes without them. I reach behind the sofa and pull them out. I blow off the dust. I wish I was blowing Terry. I push down the dirty laundry in my bag. Amazingly the detergent and fabric softener fit.
Back in the shop I wave to Emma and help myself to a fiver from the till. I zip up my coat and leave. It may be approaching lunchtime but it’s freezing outside. My exhaled breath clouds in front of my face. I wish I was at home breathing on Terry. We would be worn out from the morning’s activities. We’d be cuddled together under a duvet watching old horror films. I wish I had thought to grab a pair of sunglasses before leaving the house this morning. Terry should have told me. He hates bright sunlight more than I do.
I’ll go get a kebab while my clothes are in the washing machine. I feel that I must have a kebab at least once a day and I won’t be having one for dinner tonight. I’ll have to wash some dishes before I can cook Terry’s steak. I hope he doesn’t mind too much. I know how much he hates clean things. After supper I’ll undress him and run my tongue along his chest. I hope he’s sober. But it will still be nice if he’s drunk. I’ll suck his nipples. His dick will grow hard.
The humid air of the launderette greets me when I open the door reminding me that I’m not home with Terry just yet. No one will be able to smell my sweaty, jiz-stained laundry over the various detergents. I locate an empty washing machine and unload my clothes into it. Maybe Emma will sell another record while I’m gone. I’ll buy myself some new clothes and get Terry some new Power Rangers. I add laundry detergent and fabric softener. I put in the correct amount of change, select a cycle and turn it on. I leave for the kebab shop. I doubt anybody will steal my clothes. None of them are designer and it’s mostly socks and pants. I really need some new clothes. Terry does too, but he’d rather have toys.
I hate having to cross this street, it’s always so busy. The kebab shop is directly across from the launderette. Having to walk down the street to the crossing really pisses me off. All I want is a goddamn kebab. I can smell the greasy goodness on the air. I like kebabs nearly as much as Terry. I see my chance. Traffic is at a standstill. The traffic lights at the top of the road must be red. I make my way between cars before the lights can change back. I open the glass door. It is covered in greasy handprints of all sizes. I don’t want to touch the handle but it’s the only way to get my lunch. I wish I had gloves.
“Hi Seth. You’re early.”
The shop has just opened and it appears as if I’m the first customer of the day. I normally only have a kebab for supper. For lunch I get a sandwich from the sandwich shop with bacon and brown sauce and no butter. Just the way Nan used to make them for me and Terry.
“Afternoon. Same as usual please.”
I can’t wait to get home to Terry, he’s going to be so pleased. I’m going to get two boxes of Cornflakes. I’ll get some bacon too. I can’t make sandwiches as good as Nan, but I try.
“No young lady?”
“Not this afternoon. Maybe later,” I reply, knowing that later I’ll have something better than any girl. Kebab Man grins. I watch him grab a can of Coke.
“Just put it in the bag,” I tell him. Normally I don’t like my drink in the bag, but it’s too cold out there to want to carry it. I think I’ll have to eat in the launderette. Kebab Man has been saying that he’s going to get some tables, but they haven’t yet materialised.
Chips are one of the few variations in my normal routine, sometimes I have them and sometimes I don’t. Terry says they make me fat. But chips can be hard to resist.
“Six fifty, please.”
I hand Kebab Man payment, he gives me my lunch.
“Thanks, see you tomorrow.”
The cold air hits me when I open the door. I take a breath and plunge outside. Traffic is stopped again. It must be my lucky day. A good sign for tonight. Even with the traffic stopped, by the time I arrive back at the launderette my hands are pink and chapped. I go inside and set my lunch down. I take off my coat; I don’t want to get anything on it. I sit on a cracked plastic chair which is the most disgusting shade of orange. Terry really hates orange. I look for a chair in another colour but they are all orange. Every time I come in here, there seems to be more orange chairs. I try to pretend the chair isn’t orange as I bite into my beautiful kebab.
A few months ago I watched Terry eat a kebab. It was a hot summer night. He sat at the kitchen table in only his underwear. He took a bite and half of it went on his chest. I walked over to him and moved the table out of the way. I knelt. I had plans to eat the kebab off him, working my way up. But he kneed me in the chin. He was probably just hot and annoyed.
I finish my lunch at the exact same time the washing machine stops. My hands are greasy and smell of kebab. I don’t want to touch my clean clothes with them. I take a baby wipe out of my bag and clean my hands. I throw away the rubbish being careful not to touch the greasy bits. I get my clothes out of the washing machine. I bring them to a tumble drier and load them in one by one. I count the socks. I need my socks but sometimes the tumble drier eats them. If I count them, I can get them back. If I lose too many socks I have to buy new ones. Then I can’t afford to buy Terry his Cornflakes. I count the socks a second time, just to make sure of the number. I close the door, add change and press start.
I sit by the window to watch the slow moving High Street traffic. When I get back to the shop I’m going to ask Emma if she can cover it tomorrow. Once Terry gets over the initial feelings of violation he’s going to realise that he loves me too. We’ll spend the whole day in bed.
I always sleep naked in hope of waking up to Terry fucking me. Tomorrow, he’ll do just that. Something is poking me in the ribs. Terry would never do that.
I hear a squeaky, high pitched noise and smell a terrible odour. That’s not Terry. I try ignoring it but the stench gets closer, followed by a fresh rib-poking. I’m forced to open my eyes. I choke when I see loose flesh hanging off a starved face. I think the kebab might come back up.
“Hi. Do I know you?”
The girl takes a step back and I can breathe again. She looks insulted. I’ve seen her before. She’s always in the shop. She’s tried to speak to me, but I’ve always pretended to be busy. She’s got to be the most disgusting thing in existence.
“I’m Becky. I hang around the shop.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I snap. I don’t want her anywhere near me. She probably has fleas.
Unfortunately, I lack the authority to have the girl removed from the launderette.
I get hit with a spray of spit when she speaks. The kebab makes its way back up my throat, but I manage to swallow it. The girl doesn’t notice, or at least, she pretends not to.
She takes a seat next to mine and tries to cuddle up to me. I cringe back. The crack in the chair pinches my arse. She smells truly vile. Like she has never brushed her teeth and probably doesn’t know what soap is. It’s okay when Terry doesn’t bathe because he smells good.
“I listened to that CD you gave me.”
Sometimes I give nasty little shits free CDs so they’ll go away. The girl moves closer to me. She disgusts me. Her hair looks like it has been tinted green. Terry’s hair never looks green, but it’s naturally blond, maybe that makes a difference. I wish Terry would protect me from girls like this. I look good to please him and he hardly notices. But creatures, such as this Becky, do. They all seem to think I’m their friend, but I’m not and I don’t want to be.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere? I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Looking at cars?”
She makes a noise that I can only assume is laughter. It hurts my ears and upsets my stomach more. She smiles. I wish she wouldn’t. Her teeth are yellow and she’s got food stuck between them. Next time she comes into the shop I think I’ll give her a tooth brush and a tube of toothpaste along with a book about the importance of dental hygiene.
“Thinking,” I tell her as I try not to gag.
“Yeah. ’Bout what?”
She smiles again. Her teeth are really crooked and she has an under bite. If it was an overbite she’d look like a horse. Although, horses are much cleaner and have better teeth. I doubt the best orthodontist in the world would be able to fix that smile.
I hate having to deal with shit-heads. They’re all the same. It really isn’t any of her business what I’m thinking. If I tell her this, she’ll probably stay. I hope she knows I’m in a band.
“My next gig,” I lie. Telling little shits that I’m thinking about my band sometimes works and they’ll leave me alone.
“Oh. When is it?”
Her extra skin wobbles when she talks. If she wasn’t so vile, it would actually be quite fascinating.
“I don’t know yet. Now will you get away from me?”
She should be able to hear the annoyance in my voice. I feel like punching her but if I tried that she might sit on me and fart. Then Terry would probably have to pick me up from the hospital. That would really piss him off and tonight is meant to be a special night. I don’t want to upset Terry.
I can feel my face going red and my biceps tensing.
“Look, Becky, you are ruining my train of thought. Now please, go away.”
She gives me an evil glare and leans closer to me. I can see the top of her head. I can only hope that’s wax in her hair, but I doubt it. Terry never washes his hair and it’s not that greasy. I’m crushed against the cold window in an effort to be as far away from her as physically possible.
“I like to plan ahead. Now, if you don’t go away there won’t be a next gig.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. They won’t let me in.”
She puts her thumb in her mouth. I don’t know what’s worse; sucking her thumb in public, or sucking her thumb with all that shit underneath her nails. I try to show how repulsed I am. This girl must be very stupid. I know I’m sending her signals to get lost as well as telling her. If someone other than Terry did this to me, I’d go straight home and cry into my teddy bear. I might try crying to Terry first, in hope of getting a cuddle. But I usually end up having to cry into my teddy whenever I get upset.
“Maybe we’ll play somewhere they will. Now fucking go away.”
She folds her arms over her chest. That loose skin must act as some sort of insulation. She’s only wearing a hoody and a short skirt. She isn’t even wearing tights. She should really consider wearing trousers. Her legs are huge. She must buy really cheap fake-tan because they are high-lighted with orange streaks. Why is everything so fucking orange? I know I’ve made my point at the shop by banning all things orange. This girl knows I hate orange so she shouldn’t be wearing shitty fake-tan. I’d throw her out if she showed up at the shop with orange legs. I’ve told everybody I hate orange, although I have never stated the reason.
The girl isn’t moving. I look at my watch. I make this simple gesture obvious so she knows I’m pressed for time. It’s time to make sure the tumble drier hasn’t eaten any of my socks. I try to get up but she yanks on my arm hard enough to pull me down again. My arm hurts and my arse hurts. This girl is quite violent. She touched me with those filthy hands of hers. The nails are chewed, yet, they are jagged and there’s somehow dirt underneath them. I hope it’s dirt, but it could be a whole variety of things. I can feel bacteria eating into my exposed hand. My stomach is bubbling again. If the kebab comes back up I think I might take my chances and puke on her. Maybe the stomach acids will clean her.
“Why don’t you speak to me?” she asks. Her thumb is still in her mouth slurring her speech.
“I’ll speak to you later.”
The kebab doesn’t seem to want to come back up now that I want it to.
The shits always have an excuse. Maybe she won’t try to kill me if I get sick on her. I’ll blame the flu that’s been going around. Perhaps I should stick my fingers down my throat and force my lunch onto her, but she touched them. I won’t be able to blame the flu if she sees me. I could pretend I’m getting something out of my teeth with my finger. I’ve got baby wipes in my bag. I’ll have to use one before sticking my hands anywhere near my mouth. I don’t know if I should aim for the top of her head or her ears. Her ears look like something is growing in them. Her hair looks like nothing wants to grow in it.
“Come on Seth, I got you those phone numbers,” she whinges and flutters her eyelashes. Her voice makes me cringe.
She has gold eye shadow and glitter gel painted over her eyes. It’s really shiny but doesn’t help her looks in any good way. She looks like she’s applied it underneath her eyes in an attempt to hide the dark circles. Or maybe she wears it to draw attention away from the rest of her. But no amount of sparkly make-up can disguise all that extra skin – just like no amount of perfume could ever mask that smell.
The girl must be talking about the three little shits’ mothers. Maybe she did get me those numbers. I honestly can’t remember who got them for me. I really don’t care. I turn to face her. I put my hands on her shoulders and grip them. I’ll have to remember to use industrial strength soap on them when I get back to the shop. I look in her eyes. It’s hard because of all the sparkly make-up circling them. I notice her blue contacts, I can see the outline of them. She opens her eyes wider. Another girl who wants to fuck me. It makes me shudder.
“I know, Becky, but, right now I am honestly busy. It is very important to me to plan my next gig. I won’t ever get anywhere if I don’t think about it. This is the only time I have to think about my music. I am a very busy person. As soon as the tumble drier stops I have to get back to the shop.”
I try to maintain eye contact. I lost it. She’s wearing bright pink lipstick which draws attention to her lips and the gigantic, pus-filled spot just above them. It clashes horribly with her hoody. I look down more. Her hoody isn’t just a faded red; it’s covered in stains. One looks like cat sick. It’s covering her right breast. I wish that was my sick on her because maybe she would have run away screaming and then, maybe, I would never have to see her again. The girl pulls away and stands up. Even though it is obvious she has recently been on a diet she looks like she weighs more than me and Terry combined.
“Don’t I get a hug?”
The very thought of touching her makes me want to kill myself. The thought of Terry keeps me alive. If I give her a hug she’ll go away. I get up. All the time she’s breathing on me. Before I can come up with an excuse she pounces and nearly knocks me over. Her head’s over my shoulder but I can still smell her breath. It’s like a cloud that hangs over her. She’s squeezing and hurting my poor ribs. Her hands are touching my jumper. Her nails, with their dirt, are digging through my jumper and into the flesh on my back. Flakes of her eye shadow and glitter gel are falling on my shoulder like snow. I can feel it. I can’t even pretend this thing touching me is Terry. The grease from her hair is touching my cheek. I’m going to need to scrub my face. The girl’s perfume is mixing with what seems like years worth of unwashed dirt, sweat and menstrual blood. She finally pulls away. I jump back before she can latch onto me again. I bash my head against the window and fall to the floor.
I pretend not to hear her. She’s standing over me. I close my eyes. I may still be able to smell her, but at least I don’t have to look at her. She’s tugging on my arm, touching me more. Her face is closer to mine. I wish she’d just go away. I hear the shuffling movement of someone approaching. The girl seems too stupid to phone an ambulance, but this new-comer might. I’m not even hurt badly. It’s just a little knock on the head. The smell has improved a little and I can feel the sun on my face.
“Are you alright?”
I open my eyes to see a little old woman leaning over me and supporting herself with a cane. Her face looks concerned but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
The girl starts to cry. The old woman doesn’t seem to notice. There’s something strange about her eyes. They aren’t the only weird thing about her. At first look, she appears to be supporting herself with the cane, but I think it’s just a prop. She probably uses it to hit children with when no one is looking.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I stand up to prove it and smile at her. I don’t know if I should trust this old lady or not. She resembles Nan, but there’s something very un-Nan like about her.
“You should sit down. That’s a pretty nasty knock.”
I obey. The girl cries louder when the old lady announces that. Although she’s crying, I can’t see any tears. If there were any they might wash her face. I bet she just wants attention. The old woman takes her by the arm and leads her out of the launderette. My head hurts, but only a little. I sit in the chair. I want to check my washing but I don’t want a lecture from some strange old lady. The old woman comes back. She’s alone. If it wasn’t for the blue rinse and cane she’d look just like Nan, but looks can be very deceiving. She glances out the glass door. She’s probably checking to make sure that the girl is going back to wherever she came from. She stands up straight; I knew the cane was only a prop. I bet she bashes in the kneecaps of people who walk past her and aren’t paying attention. Nan would never do that. I’m starting to think that I preferred Becky, as odd as that sounds.
“You should be careful with young girls like that.”
“Hey, she was coming onto me. It’s like she wanted to rape me or something.”
I sound more aggressive than I mean to. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of this old woman. She doesn’t flinch. I really want to get back to planning tonight and tomorrow. If I don’t plan properly everything will be ruined, if it’s perfect Terry will be mine.
Her voice is surprisingly gentle and soothing. It’s nearly hypnotic. I wish Terry would talk to me like this.
“But she might get the wrong idea.”
She takes a seat next to mine. Her hand brushes my shoulder. I want to tell her not to touch me. I feel more repulsed by her touch than the girl’s, but I don’t know why.
“You didn’t bump your head too badly, did you?”
Her grey eyes look into mine sending a shiver up my spine. I think she does this on purpose. She probably feeds off it. I want to get away, but I can’t. It’s like someone has glued me to the seat. Her voice is sending me to sleep.
“No, it barely hurts.”
And that’s the truth. I don’t think I could lie to her even if I wanted to. She makes me very nervous.
She stands up. She lifts my hair and turns my head. I bet this is just a gesture to make it appear as if she were putting me at ease. Her fingers are cold and they give me an electric shock. She can tell I’m not badly hurt. I want to back away but I can’t move. I wish Terry was checking my injuries, even if he is a bit rough. I try to put all thoughts of Terry to the back of my mind. I don’t want the old lady to know about him. It’s like she can read what I’m thinking. I can feel her prying into my head. It feels like I’m being raped, but by some grotesque creature and not Terry. If she gets an image of Terry, she may want him. She could use my love of Terry against me. I feel the expression on my face as it changes to one of horror when I realise what I’m thinking. The old woman takes no notice and continues pretending to check if I’m injured. But I can’t stop thinking.
I can see her and Terry together, laughing naked in his bed sipping glasses of champagne. Champagne I bought with my hard-earned money. Her liver-spotted tits poking out of the duvet. Terry’s hand is between her thighs. He puts his glass of champagne on the nightstand and places hers next to it. Terry pushes her thin and brittle legs apart. Her back is resting against the pillows that I so lovingly fluffed up in hope of being where the old woman is. Terry kisses the inside of her wrinkly old thigh. I wish he was kissing my thigh. He works his tongue over her dry skin. Moving up. He should be licking my thighs and teasing me. His penis is erect, but he doesn’t put it in her. He nibbles her thigh. His head moves over, his pretty blond hair reflecting sunlight from the holes in the curtains. His long pink tongue finds its way over to her clit. Saliva drips off the end of it and onto her. Her fingers walk over her thighs. Terry’s head is moving sideways as he moisturises her arid hole. She takes his long hair in one hand pulling his head up. Her other hand finishes its walk over her thighs. The blue veins and bones are standing out as she twists a finger in her grey wiry pubes. Terry sits up and drools down his chin. Her finger goes down slowly to torment Terry. His hand moves to his bulging cock. With her spare hand the old woman takes hold of both of his wrists while she inserts a long finger and then another into her dying cunt. All the time she watches him squirm with those piercing grey eyes. Her tongue licks her lips as her fingers move in and out. All Terry has to do is move his hands to snap her wrists, but he enjoys watching her and she knows it. A moan escapes him. She releases him and allows her back to slip off the pillows and onto the mattress. Her knees are bent and spread wide inviting him. He crawls between her cracked dry legs. Flakes of skin fall off when he brushes against them. He’s on top of her, but not crushing her. His arms are straight, his hands supporting his upper body’s weight as she directs his dick inside of her. Terry’s heart is racing with anticipation. The old woman is calm.
I can read her thoughts as Terry slowly and carefully thrusts in and out. Telepathically she’s telling me that she is going to fuck Terry to death. Slowly, over many years, she’ll drain him of life. She’ll move in with her three-legged cat. She’ll put doilies on the coffee table. She’ll train her cat to shit in the kitchen sink. I’ll be forced to watch as she gets Terry to fuck her every morning and every night.
Terry’s moving harder and faster, but not hurting her. The bed is making the nightstand vibrate. The glasses shatter on the floor. Terry doesn’t notice. He’s too intent on fucking her. His pale white arse gleams in the sunlight, which all of a sudden seems so much brighter, as he screws the old woman. He pulls his dick out and ejaculates on her stomach. Terry holds his cock in his hand and the white jiz bathes her. She rubs it in. There’s nothing like healthy come to moisten her flaky skin. She pushes herself up on her elbows and Terry, still jizzing moves up. She opens her mouth and swallows his jiz. It drips around her mouth and onto her chin. She licks it. She puts her mouth on his dick. I know he’s still ejaculating. When he stops her mouth stays in place. She puts her emaciated arms around his firm arse. Still with his cock in her mouth, she sticks her bony index and middle fingers with their long yellowed nails up his clean arsehole. Her head bobs up and down, her fingers move in and out. Terry screams with pleasure. He pushes down on her head with the palms of his hands. I wish he’d snap her neck. He throws his head back and howls.
“No, I suppose not,” she says loudly but casually, like nothing happened. I stare at her horrified. She did that to Terry. It was like we left the launderette so I could watch her screw Terry. She smiles. Her grey eyes meet mine. I want to run away. Fuck the laundry! But I can’t move. I feel completely violated. How can somebody who looks so much like Nan be so repulsive and evil?
“Your laundry will be done soon.”
Her voice isn’t gentle and soothing anymore. My lunch bubbles close to the back of my throat. I swallow. It burns as it goes back down. If only I’d got sick on the girl. Then this nasty old woman would be sending Becky nightmarish visions instead of me. I shudder. She gives me a strange, fed-up look before wandering back to the far side of the launderette, leaning heavily on her cane. I start to feel better as soon as she shuffles away.
I get up to check on the tumble drier. There’s another ten minutes left. I don’t want to sit by the window. Somebody else might see me and come to annoy me. I look around the launderette and find another chair. It’s orange, but there isn’t a crack in this one. I drag it over to the drier and sit. I watch the clothes go around. I don’t want to turn and look somewhere else. I don’t want to see that old woman again. I make a mental note to write the list when I get back to the shop. I’ll forget what I need to buy if I get any more interruptions. I try to get back to thinking of Terry waking me up with his dick up my arse, but I can’t.
I find my mind wandering to that girl from last night. It’s a place I don’t want to go. All I want is Terry. Ilse, her name was. She looked like Terry, but was nothing like him. I thought she would be perfect when she asked for mayonnaise on her kebab. Terry loves mayonnaise. I don’t often pay for the kebab for whatever girl I’m fucking, but I paid for hers just because she asked for mayonnaise. I should have told her leave to when she refused a plate, but she looked too much like Terry. Terry always uses a plate. He’s not a pig. She tried to take my nightly bath with me. She was on her period, as I discovered later that night when she made me pull her tampon out with my teeth. It would have been really disgusting bathing in menstrual blood. No one takes my bath with me.
Except Terry. I’m saving the baths for him. Then he can wash me, paying close attention to my dick. Maybe tonight that will happen after we eat our dinner together. I won’t have to jerk-off in the bath because he’ll do it for me. He’ll sit behind me in the tub and I’ll feel his growing erection on my back. He’ll just let it rest there poking out of the water. He’ll reach around me with both of his arms. One hand will go up and his fingers go into my mouth.
The other goes down. It wraps around my hard penis while I suck on Terry’s fingers. Terry’s hand moves up and down. He kisses my shoulders. Jiz sprays into the water. Terry’s erection is still digging into my back but when I try to do something about it, he brushes my hand aside and gets out of the bath. He helps me out and tells me not to pull the plug. Terry gets Vaseline out of the cabinet and hands it to me. I know what to do with it. I smoother it all over his hard cock. He bends me over the toilet and shoves his giant erect dick up my arse. I scream out his name as he thrusts in and out. My knees connect with the porcelain toilet bowl but Terry doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to. One arm is wrapped around my chest, he uses the other to massage my penis and play with my balls. Before he ejaculates he pulls his cock out, turns me around and does it in my mouth. I swallow every drop. He kisses me and we go back to the bath.
As soon as the drier stops, I stuff my clothes into carrier bags. I don’t bother to count the socks. I just want to get out of there. That old woman is looking at me, sending shivers up my spine. I walk towards the door.
My throat closes up and my hands itch. I must count the socks. If I don’t I won’t know if the tumble drier ate one or not and then bad things will happen to Terry – he’ll be without his Cornflakes. I look around nervously. I put the carrier bags on a chair and my bag next to them. I fold my clothes as I take them out of the carrier bag and place them in my bag. I don’t really want my clean clothes touching the same surface as they did when they were dirty, but I really want to get out of the launderette. That old woman could make me experience last night all over again in detail. I count the socks and roll them into pairs. They are all there. I shove them into a carrier bag and add it to my big bag. I zip it up and run out of the launderette.
I immediately feel better once the cold air hits me stinging my face and making my eyes water. This time tomorrow, I’ll be cuddled next to Terry. We’ll be naked underneath his duvet. He’ll have his arm wrapped around me on the dirty old sofa. I’ll rest my head on his chest.
He twirls his short fingers in my black hair. He puts his other hand under my chin and pulls it up to kiss me. I taste Cornflakes. I’m completely under his power. He can do whatever he wants with me. Still kissing me he sits on me, facing me. I feel his huge dick on my stomach. I try to touch it but he bats my hands away.
He pulls his tongue out of my mouth and backs off the sofa. I’m helpless as he shoves his cock in my mouth and takes hold of my hair. He pulls my hair and pushes his penis down the back of my throat. He’s gentle with my hair, but my throat is taking a beating. I like it. I can barely fit my mouth around his huge cock. My lips are drying and cracking open. I’m not complaining. I’ve always wanted to know what his dick tastes like. It tastes nice, not of soap. Soap doesn’t taste very nice. His dick has a natural taste to it.
His hands massage my scalp, my tongue massages his penis. My tongue doesn’t have much space to move, but it tries to do the job. His cock grinds up against my back teeth. I hope my teeth aren’t hurting him. Saliva drips out my mouth and down my chin onto my chest. I don’t want to let his penis out of my mouth to wipe myself off. He’s gently moaning. I wish I could see his eyes. Mine are shut.
Terry takes his hand off my head and takes one of my hands off his leg. He moves it in the direction of his arse. I know what he wants me to do with it. He wants me to stick a finger up there. I rub his arse with my hand. It’s smooth and hairless. He doesn’t shave it because it would have little spikes of hair standing up. It’s naturally hairless. I like it. It feels so soft. I want to rub it more but Terry uses his hand to push mine closer to his arsehole. I want to rub my cheeks against it, but I’m pinned against the sofa with his cock in my mouth. I inch my finger towards his arsehole. Slowly to tease him. He’s moaning louder. I take my other hand off his leg and use it to pry open his arse cheeks. I brush my finger against the inside of them before sticking it up his arse. It’s a tight fit. I can only get one up there. I’ll need to loosen it up before I can fuck him, but he can fuck me.
I regularly stick things up mine. Sometimes I get girls to stick a dildo up there. Maybe I should go get my dildo. But I can’t speak to suggest it to him with his penis down the back of my throat. His arsehole is actually hairy, which came as a surprise when compared to the smoothness of his arse cheeks.
His dick is pulsating in my mouth. He’s going to ejaculate soon. I push my finger rapidly in and out of his arsehole varying it with a circular motion. He takes my hand by the wrist and pulls my finger out. He jumps back and his dick rapidly leaves the back of my throat and falls out of my mouth. He grabs it with his hand and jizzes in my hair.
I stick the finger I had up his hairy arsehole into my mouth. Semen is dripping down my forehead. He starts to lick it. I can feel the crack down the centre of his tongue nearing my eyebrows. His front teeth hit the small bump just above them. I keep my eyes closed; I once heard that if jiz got in your eyes you’d go blind. He licks my eyelid with the tip of his tongue. Suddenly, he stops. He knows my worry. He rubs both of my eyes and I open them. It feels like he’s licked all the jiz off me, except what’s in my hair. He brushes it away from my face.
He pulls my finger out of my mouth and sticks it in his. He bites down very softly as he pulls it further back before slowly pushing it out with his tongue. To replace my finger he sticks his index finger in my mouth. His finger is in no way as long as his dick. It doesn’t even reach the back of my throat, but I bet it will still feel nice up my arse. He looks into my eyes briefly as he pulls his finger out. He kisses me gently on the forehead. His lips are chapped. They feel slightly rough, like him. My arms are by my side. He takes both my hands in his and presses his thumbs into my palms before letting them drop back. It’s rather odd, but where he pressed now feels warm. He smiles; I wonder what he’s thinking.
He gets down on his knees and pushes my legs apart. His hands are warm. His skin’s rough. They caress my thighs. One hand slips underneath me and he moves his head down. He licks my dick. His fingers are moving towards my arsehole. He’ll be able to get at least two up there. His lips wrap around my cock as his middle finger enters my arsehole. The index shortly follows. He lightly uses his front teeth to nibble my foreskin. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. The problem with girls is they don’t know what a guy wants, but Terry does. And not just any guy, he knows what I want.
I hear myself moaning. I stroke Terry’s hair as he inches his mouth over my dick and takes it into the back of his throat. I feel his uncut fingernails in my arse. I like the feeling. I’ve never known it before. I always get a manicure and I don’t let the girls stick their fingers up there. I’ve been waiting for Terry to do it.
I know I’m going to come soon, but I don’t want to. I want this moment to last forever. I ejaculate in his mouth. Terry sucks up all the jiz, but doesn’t swallow. When it’s all in his mouth, he brings his head up and stands. He leans towards me. His long hair falls on his face. He looks cute but he brushes it aside and behind his ears, where it stays. He leans closer and I open my mouth. I’ll do anything for Terry, even taste my own jiz. He lets it drip into my mouth. I’m not repulsed by its salty taste. It doesn’t taste as nice as Terry’s, a little of which got in my mouth earlier. But it tastes nicer than the finger I shoved up his arse. He leans closer and kisses me before I can swallow. Saliva and jiz drips down my chin. He pulls on my hair. I love it when he does that. It’s only a gentle pull. He probably doesn’t want to rip out any of my shiny black hair.
The whole time Terry is silent, except for moaning. He’s perfect. I never realised he could be so good. He doesn’t even try to talk as he sits back down next to me and wraps his arm around me again. He grabs the TV controls and switches it back on. We were watching an old film before we got carried away on the sofa. A girl would want to keep the TV off and talk. Terry pulls me closer to him. I feel safe and happy. With a girl, I’d be feeling really annoyed right now. He pulls the duvet around us. I could fall asleep next to him.
Before I realise it, I’m looking at my reflection in the glass door of the shop. I look pale and red in the cheeks. I open it and go in. There’s no sense in standing out in the cold and Emma needs her lunch. I need to change my jeans, again. I’ve jizzed in these ones too. I intended on wearing the other ones home to Terry. I’ll hide these amongst other dirty jeans. I don’t remember jizzing. I don’t even remember walking back to the shop. All I can think is that what happened on the way back felt so real. It’s amazing what happens when I’m left alone. I look around for Emma. There’s a few customers, probably on their lunch breaks. Emma’s behind the till. I walk over to her.
“I’m going to put away my stuff. Sell anything?”
“A few CDs. Not much.”
More than usual. I grab a pen and paper bag from behind the till to write my list. Cornflakes are the most important thing. And milk.
“I’ll be back in a few. I need to get changed again.”
In the backroom I strip off all my clothes before realising I didn’t put pants on after I jizzed in the first trousers. I don’t want Emma to come back here and see me wandering around completely naked. I reach for a pair of pants; but stop myself. I really don’t want to touch something that will be resting on my nice clean dick with my filthy hands. I unroll a pair of socks and put them on my hands like gloves. I turn and look at the door. I really don’t want Emma to walk in and see me like this. I grab the pants and quickly pull them up. I don’t take off the socks I’m wearing on my feet but take the socks off my hands and throw them on the floor. I really need to sweep back here and I don’t want to get little dirt particles on my clean feet. I’m not going to clean the floor half-naked while Emma needs her lunch break. By keeping on my socks I can prevent the need to wash my feet and save time.
I go into the toilet. There isn’t much space to move. It’s like the toilet was added as an afterthought. Maybe builders and designers never need to piss or shit. They didn’t even include a heater. Terry would hate this room. It’s far too small and cold, but I could warm him up. Sometimes I try to prop the door open to get some warm air in here but it always seems to shut by itself. It’s really annoying. The backroom has too much space, some of that could have been used for the toilet. At least it’s clean.
Under the sink I keep a bucket of Swarfega Heavy Duty and a nail brush. I pick them up while trying not to hit my head or arse and look at the soap. One of the shits stole it for me when he did work experience. He’s actually not that bad. His name is Joshua, but the other shits call him Little Seth. I wish they wouldn’t. It bothers me. He dresses like me and grew his hair long. He insists on following me around the shop. He never says anything. He tries to copy the way I walk. If he stopped doing all that, I might actually consider being his friend.
I take the lid off the soap and take out a big handful. One handed, I replace the lid and put the container on the floor and gently kick it under the sink. I examine the soap. It reminds me of the ooze coming out of the spotty little shit’s face. The only difference is the soap has specks of exfoliator. I turn on the hot water tap. The water’s freezing. I play with the soap, running it from hand to hand while the water heats up. It’s not as liquid as other soaps. I scrub with the nail brush. If I’m to cook for Terry later I must make sure I get off all the dirt now. I don’t have this type of soap at home. Joshua told me he tried to get two buckets of soap but got caught. When the water steams I rinse my hands and splash my face. I use normal soap on my face. Swarfega dries it out too much. It wouldn’t be a good idea to wash my face with it. I wish it didn’t. I use a lot of soap on my face. I don’t want to catch a disease from where that girl breathed on me. It might spread to Terry. I rinse my face. The water is really hot, but it feels nice. I don’t have to reach far to get the towel. I dry my face and hands.
I go into the backroom. I kick my dirty clothes next to the safe. I take off my socks, being careful not to touch the outside of them. I throw them on top of the jumper and jeans. I bury everything I wore to the launderette underneath the dirty clothes I didn’t take with me. I open the bag of laundry and put the rolled socks into my box at the top so I remember to take them home with me. I leave them in the carrier bag. I put the first jeans I jizzed in back on. Terry will like them. He’ll help me get them dirty again. Then I put on a clean jumper which smells so fresh. But later it will smell of Terry, I like that smell more. I take a pair of clean socks and put them on. I sit on the sofa to put my boots on.
I wish the sofa at home was in nice condition like this one, but Terry hated this sofa. Together, me and Terry could make this sofa really dirty, much dirtier than the old one. I did try to explain that to him but he gave me a disgusted look and stormed off to his bedroom. If only he gave me a chance. Tonight he will. Then I can bring home this sofa. We’ll get it filthy. It will just be much more comfortable to sit on. Or fuck on.
He’ll lean over the arm rest. I’ll kneel behind him. The hard foam in this sofa will prevent me from sinking in too deep. I’ll run my tongue up his spine.
I can taste his salty flesh. I can nearly feel my erection brushing against his smooth pale arse. I comb his hair with my fingers. It’s stringy and slightly oily. I won’t wash my hands after touching it. His oil smells nice and it isn’t dirty. I can feel it on my hands sinking into my chapped skin. I lean over and bite his earlobe. At first I’m gentle, but I slowly increase the pressure until he lets out a small yelp. I hear it. Not in my head, but next to me. The sound makes me want to fuck him, but I’m going to wait a little while longer.
“Seth it’s getting late.”
I lean over him and grab his penis. It bulges in my hand. My finger tips barely touch. I hope it won’t hurt my arsehole too badly when he shoves it up there.
“Seth are you feeling alright?”
I jerk him off. Jiz ends up all over the armrest. The sofa is no longer clean. I take all his hair in one hand and pull his head back. I tried demonstrating this when I bought the sofa but he punched me. When he calmed down and came out of his room I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. I wish I could make him understand. He must have some sort of a sex drive. I’d be better than any girl or his hand. For Terry, I’d do anything.
I look up. Emma is towering over me. She looks annoyed.
“Are you alright?”
I’d lick his tight arsehole if he asked me. Then I’d get him to lick mine. I can nearly feel his tongue up there now. It makes me squirm a little under Emma’s shadow. I really need to stop thinking and get to work.
“Huh? Yeah fine.”
I only have one boot on. I lean down to put the other one on. Terry would suck my toes before I put my boots on.
“It is busy out there.”
He’ll chew my toe nails and spit them onto the sofa.
Eventually they’d sink between the cushions. I’ll never vacuum the sofa or cushions.
Emma turns and walks out the door. She’s probably hungry. I don’t know how long I’ve been back here. I tie my boots. Before getting off the sofa I see the paper bag and pen. I must write my shopping list. If I forget anything it could ruin the entire night. I’m going to have to write it in the shop. I better remember to get some Vaseline. Terry’s dick is huge. Even though I shove all sorts of things up my arse his cock is so big, if I let him stick it right up there I’d be risking a tear. But if we have Vaseline it might be alright.
I open the door. It actually is busy out there. I see Emma behind the till serving a long line of customers. I go over. I stand behind her while she completes a transaction. I can smell her shampoo. It smells like coconuts. I like the artificial scent of coconut shampoo, but Terry doesn’t. I can’t have anything that smells of coconut at home.
“Can I go for my lunch now?”
She sounds pissed off.
“Yeah, of course.”
She stomps away. I’m left to serve the line of customers. The shop has never been this busy before. I don’t even see Emma leave. I thought maybe she brought a packed lunch today until I see her walk back in the door. By that time most of the customers had gone.
I finally have the chance to write my shopping list. I stay behind the till to write it. The first item is Terry’s Cornflakes. I know how much he loves them. Cornflakes may even be the way to win his heart. Expensive milk. I don’t know if Terry has ever had the milk that comes in the white bottle. He’s going to love it. Then it will be my turn.
Tomorrow morning he might even eat the Cornflakes off me. Although, I don’t know how that would work with the milk. He could jerk-off and jiz on my stomach. Then he’d pour the Cornflakes onto it. The jiz would help them stick. And it’s white, so it slightly resembles milk. I’d be laying on the kitchen table. My legs will be bent at the knees and hanging off. Terry will be kneeling on a chair between them. His fingers will tickle the back of my knees. He’ll kiss my penis before eating his favourite food.
“What are you doing?”
My stomach will have little bite marks on it. When he’s done, he’ll lick it removing all of his own jiz. I can feel his tongue as it works down.
He’ll briefly pause before wrapping one hand on my cock and using fingers from his other to stick up my arse.
Some teenager with large beady eyes is staring at me. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl. It doesn’t look like anyone I’ve seen before. The teenager is holding some CDs close to its chest. I’m very annoyed. Terry was just about to give an excellent blow job. I try not to show how pissed off I am; a customer is a customer. More customers mean more Cornflakes for Terry.
“What you got there?”
The kid shakes its head. I hold out my hand. More Cornflakes for Terry mean a higher chance of him eating them off me and sucking my dick afterwards. I wonder if I could stick Cornflakes up my arse and have him eat them out.
“You’re going to have to pay for those.”
It shakes its head again. It looks embarrassed. Its eyeliner is beginning to run. I wonder if Terry would like me to wear eyeliner. I’ll get some from the supermarket. I’ve never worn make-up before. Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.
“Come on. I’ve seen and heard everything.”
I’m getting very pissed off now. I was nice and happy writing my shopping list for Terry and thinking about what we could do with the Cornflakes. Emma appears at the till. She always seems to know when I need saving. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
“Why don’t you go tidy the CDs?”
I take my shopping list and leave Emma to deal with the teenager. I take a misplaced CD and put my shopping list on top of it. Once I get started again, I don’t get any more interruptions. I check the list. I remembered all of Terry’s favourites and the things we need. I collect all of the misplaced CDs from around the shop.
Terry will start with one finger up my arse. I won’t be able to feel much; I spend too much time sticking things up there. But it’ll be Terry shoving his finger up there. It’ll make a difference. It’ll be better than any dildo. When he adds another finger his mouth will be wrapped around my dick. Saliva will drip from it and down to my balls. I’ll feel the second finger, but only slightly. It’ll be a gentle pressure. He’ll relax the back of his throat. I’ll watch the top of his head as his mouth inches further down the shaft of my penis. His pink tongue with the crack down the centre will lick it; I’ll feel the crack. His lips will feel my dick pulsating. I’ll close my eyes. His fingers will go further up my arse with each push. Eventually, he’ll take his two fingers out and replace them with his fist. It’ll be the first time a fist will be up there. I hope he uses Vaseline. I’ve been waiting for Terry to do it. I won’t ejaculate when he does it. Or, I’ll try not to. I’ll allow him complete freedom to do whatever he wants. I’ve always wanted him to do anything he wants to me. He’ll allow me freedom to do whatever I want with him. But, at first, I want him to pin me down and have his way before I get mine. My arms will relax by my side. It’ll be tempting to stroke Terry’s hair, but I’ll restrain myself. I’ll jiz in his mouth. Terry won’t swallow. He’ll pull his fist out of my arse. He’ll inch his index finger up my chest. My jiz will drip from his mouth and onto my body as he goes up. He’ll spit it into my mouth and I’ll swallow. He’ll lay on top of me and kiss me. The salty residue of jiz in our mouths. He’ll pull away and whisper, “Wait here”.
I’ll watch him go to the fruit basket on the counter and select a banana. He’ll unpeel it and throw the peel over his shoulder and onto the floor. I don’t mind. He’ll stick it in his mouth and suck it like he was sucking my dick. It’ll send shivers through my entire body and he’ll know it. It’ll make him smile and laugh his infrequent laugh. He’ll walk over to the kitchen table; I’ll still be laying on top of it from after the Cornflake incident. He’ll hold the banana up to keep it in my line of vision. He’ll tell me to get on all fours. I’ll stick my arse up in the air so he’ll have easy access. I hope the table can handle all of this. He’ll rub my arsecheeks with his warm hand. I’ll feel his dried cracked skin against my hairy arse. The banana tip will be cold when he runs it down my arsecrack. My arsehole will be waiting anxiously for it, but he’ll slowly move it up again. The second time he runs it down he’ll stick his index and middle fingers up my arse. The banana will follow shortly.
I’ve never stuck a banana up there. Tomorrow morning there’ll be a lot of firsts – all before I get my breakfast.
Having a banana shoved up my arse will be quite an interesting experience. The banana will feel cold when Terry removes his fingers and rams it up there. He’ll push it in and out. The banana will warm up. He’ll be careful so it doesn’t break in half and get stuck up there. When he pulls it out the final time he’ll make me eat it. I’ll be happy to follow his orders. He’ll watch my facial expressions as I take that first bite. I don’t know what it’ll taste like, but even if it’s completely vile, as I imagine it will be, I’ll eat every last bite for Terry. I won’t complain. After I’m done eating he’ll kiss me and run his short fingers through my hair. The kiss will go on for at least ten minutes. After he pulls away he’ll help me off the table and led me to the sofa. He won’t switch on the TV. Instead he’ll bend me over the armrest with my knees on the sagging cushions and fuck me. I’ll scream out his name as his big cock thrusts in and out. He’ll pull it out just before he comes and jiz down my lower back so it drips. As soon as he’s hard again he’ll ram his dick back up there without giving me any warning. At first, I’ll make my arsehole tense so it’ll be like I’m resisting. Terry will like that. I’ll soon relax.
When we’re both so tired we can’t fuck anymore, I’ll get Terry’s duvet from his bedroom while he puts on a DVD. We’ll spend the afternoon cuddled together under the duvet. We’ll order a pizza so we’ll only have to get up to answer the door and pay the delivery man. We’ll feed the pizza to each other. It’ll have pepperoni on it. I’ll peel them off and feed them to Terry one by one, just the way he likes it. He’ll drop cheese on my chest and will eat it off. He’ll suck the sauce. It’ll burn slightly, but any lasting red marks on my chest will be from Terry sucking.
When the afternoon passes into evening and the sun has set it’ll be my turn to violate Terry. I’m going to make him have a bath with me. He hates baths. I’ll wash his body really well and lick it dry, paying close attention to his dick and arsehole. He’ll jiz all over the bathroom floor and I’ll lap it up. My tongue will move from the dirty floor to his clean feet still pink from the water. I’ll taste the residue of soap on them from where I washed between his toes. He’ll jerk-off while I’m licking his feet and jiz in my hair. I won’t wash it. I’ll let it stay there until the morning when I take a shower.
Emma comes over and takes half the CDs. The shop has emptied. I’m still thinking of Terry jizzing in my hair. It’s a nice thought. But the school-brats will be here soon enough, which wipes the smile off my face.
“You don’t look well.”
I thought after that pleasant daydream I’d be looking rather good. I didn’t realise I look ill. It’s probably the after-effect of the incident in the launderette. I shudder when I think of it and all that happened there.
“I’m fine. Just some girl in the launderette. She was disgusting. It made my stomach hurt.”
I don’t tell her about the old woman; she may think I’m crazy if I do. Emma laughs. It’s a nice sound. But not as nice as Terry’s infrequent laughter. Whenever I hear it I want to jiz in my pants.
“So, was that kid a boy or a girl?”
I’m quick to change the topic. I don’t want to think about the launderette. It would be best forgotten.
“A boy, I think.”
I smile but I hope I still look ill. I don’t want to go to the bank. Emma might offer if I don’t look well. Then I can get home to Terry quicker.
I don’t think that kid has been in here before. I’d remember him. But maybe Emma has seen him. He could’ve come in when I’ve been out.
“Has he ever been in here before?”
“No. I haven’t seen him.”
He’s probably just moved here. I hope he becomes a frequent customer and doesn’t get mixed up with the little shits. Based on the way he was clutching those CDs and refusing to hand them over I must assume he was buying them for himself. People buying Christmas presents don’t get embarrassed like that.
“Must be new.”
“I feel bad for the parents.”
I think Emma always feels bad for the parents. I laugh, she joins me. But maybe she just says things like that to cheer me up when I look down. She can probably tell I had a really bad time at the launderette. She can read me very well. Sometimes it’s very hard to hide things from her. I hope that she doesn’t know how I feel about Terry. She might question why I haven’t made a move on him yet. Even though I have, countless times, and he keeps shutting me down. Or I might get a long lecture about not bringing home teenage girls because that’s what puts Terry off. She doesn’t know Terry. I think he enjoys listening while I let a girl ride me.
All of the CDs have been put away. It probably won’t make any difference. School got out a few minutes ago. The school-brats will go to their houses to get out of their uniforms and then come and annoy me and Emma. They’ll move around all of the CDs and touch them with their filthy hands. Emma will be alone tomorrow because I’m going to spend the entire day with Terry. She’ll have to put back all of the misplaced CDs by herself in the morning. I’ll tell her I’m not feeling well before I leave for the evening so I can give her the key for the shop. That way she won’t come all the way to my house and bang on the door interrupting the fun I’ll be having with Terry. At least she never asks to be let in. Then she might see that I have a working washing machine and tumble drier and get really mad at me for going to the launderette. She’s going to be really pissed off the next time I wash some clothes because I’m going to have to go to the other one. If she knew I have a working washing machine and tumble drier she may try to put a stop to that. At the other launderette I’ll be free to daydream about Terry without gruesome old ladies working their way into my mind.
“Ready for tonight?”
I can’t wait until tonight; Terry will finally be mine. Only a few more hours until I get home to him. He’s usually asleep when I get home. Tonight I’ll wake him up with a glass of champagne.
“If today is anything to go by, we’ll have the little shits, as you call them, and real customers.”
I was worried for a second there. I thought Emma knew of my plan.
“Yeah. You think actual customers will come in with the place teeming with little shits?”
“I think so. The place has been busy all day, probably people picking up Christmas presents.”
Terry is going to be so happy when I tell him the shop is finally starting to make a profit. He told me I’d never be able to run a shop and it would be closed within six months. He doesn’t have much faith in me. But I’ll prove him wrong. Then he’ll want me in the way I want him.
“I hope it isn’t just people Christmas shopping. Like that couple earlier. No one spends that much on Christmas presents. Those records must have been for their personal collection.”
“I hope you’re right,” Emma sighed.
She gave up a lot to come and help me with the shop. I don’t think she’d be able to get her old job back if this place fails. But she agreed to work here. Friends help each other out and all that stuff. My shop is closer to her home, which means she doesn’t have to drive. I know how much she hates that. But her stupid husband keeps complaining about her working here. He should be able to see she is much happier working with me than she was at her old job. The guy is a major arsehole. I don’t know why she married him. He always criticises me. He doesn’t think I run the shop properly. He tries to tell me what to do. It really pisses me off. He said that I shouldn’t give school children free stuff. He actually called the little shits, school children. What a fucking twat. I’ll run my shop the way I want to.
“Right, what shall we give the shits to get lost tonight?”
“That never works.”
That’s Alex’s influence on her. She only disagrees with me when her husband has been shouting at her about something. Alex always shouts at Emma. I even saw him slap her once. He’s bigger than me. If he wasn’t, I would’ve beat him up. I told Terry, but Terry didn’t even care. I could’ve watched as Terry beat the shit out of him. But no matter how much I begged, Terry wouldn’t. It would’ve really turned me on watching Terry get all hot and sweaty as he beat the shit out of Alex. I bet Terry would’ve taken off his shirt too. The sweat would’ve made his pale flesh glisten nicely.
“It does sometimes.”
It really does. Emma knows it. She’s just been listening to her stupid husband too much.
“Yeah until they come back wanting more and we’re running out of freebies.”
“We’ll just get some more.”
“We should really give them to actual customers.”
She’s even saying things how Alex would say them. She’s never objected to giving the little shits free things before. I wonder if precious Alex has any suggestions on getting rid of the shits.
“But what are we meant to do about the shits?”
“Maybe you should stop sleeping with teenage girls and maybe they’ll get lost.”
I know she doesn’t really mean that. Alex is just upset because I fucked his teenage cousin. She really moaned loudly, that one. Terry must have loved hearing it. I know Alex has been complaining to Emma because she’s been putting pressure on me about it. Alex is just jealous because no one other than Emma wants to have sex with him.
I can fuck whoever I want. Except Terry. But after tonight that’ll change. Once Terry’s mine I won’t want to fuck anymore teenage girls. Unless Terry asks me to so he can watch.
“But what about the boys that hang around in here?”
Emma doesn’t respond. I think she can understand my point, or she can’t remember what Alex said about the boys. It’s an endless cycle trying to get rid of the shits. At least the three little shits won’t be in tonight. And if that thing from the launderette told the truth about being grounded she won’t be in either.
“Seth, what about this? We tell them that because of Christmas the shop is extra busy and the police will shut us down if too many people are in.”
She could tell I was beginning to get annoyed with her Alex-think. This is pure Emma. I don’t know if any of the little shits would believe it though.
“Do you think any of them will believe it?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. Unless you can come up with anything better.”
Other than giving them free stuff I’m out of ideas. Emma’s suggestion is better than anything I can come up with.
“I think you’re right. We’ll try it.”
If we’re lucky there’ll be some actual customers in the shop when the shits start coming in to back up our claim. But for now we’re alone. I wish I was alone with Terry right now. Even if it just is at the shop. But he never comes in to see me. He never even leaves the house.
“So, what were you writing?”
“Just a shopping list. I need to pick up some things from the supermarket.”
I don’t often go to the supermarket. It’s too far away from my house and it gets really busy.
“Okay. Would you like me to go to the bank for you? You’ll get in and out of the supermarket quicker, it can be really busy at night.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
I’ll be able to get home to Terry quicker. In a few hours I’ll be in bed with him. If he’s drunk I’ll taste the champagne and vodka when I kiss him. If he’s sober he might fuck me.
“You still don’t look well.”
“Tell you the truth I’m not feeling too well.”
Telling her a little lie now will make telling her I’m not coming in tomorrow easier.
“Want to leave? I can cover the shop by myself.”
“No that’s alright. If we’re lucky it will be busy again.”
I really would like to leave now. By the time we close and I get to the supermarket it’ll be packed and then I’ll have to wait for a taxi. I don’t want to leave Emma alone for the rest of today and all day tomorrow. Alex might make her quit working here.
“Why don’t you go sit down until people start coming in?”
I like that idea. It’ll give me time to think.
“Come get me when it starts to get busy.”
I go into the back room and lie on the sofa. I wish I had a blanket back here. Or Terry. If I had both we could lie naked underneath the blanket discussing plans for tonight. Emma wouldn’t mind. The shop isn’t busy right now. And if Alex wasn’t such a bastard I’d let them back here while me and Terry look after the shop. Emma could do so much better, but I’d rather not think of that. Terry is much better to think about.
I wonder if Terry will get me a Christmas present this year. When we were little he got me a Teddy Bear. I still have the bear. I named him Salem. I love Salem very much, but he’s beginning to fall apart. I used to sleep with Salem tucked into bed with me. Salem would be sitting on my bed waiting for me when I got in from school. I would tell him how the other kids picked on me. Nan never understood why the other kids picked on me; but Salem did. Sometimes when Terry is mad at me I take Salem off the top shelf of my wardrobe and tell him. I apologise to Salem for having to keep him in the wardrobe. If Terry would stop being difficult and love me, then Salem wouldn’t have to stay in the wardrobe. One of the girls tried to steal Salem. If Terry fucked me instead that would’ve never happened.
Tonight everything will change. I won’t ever have to bring home a girl again. And instead of jerking off every morning Terry will suck my dick and I’ll suck his. I wonder how his jiz tastes. I bet it’s good. I won’t have to wonder for much longer. And Salem can retake his proper place on the bed, if he doesn’t mind sharing with Terry as well.
I’m going to ask Terry to get me a new cuddly toy for Christmas so Salem can have a friend. It’ll be a girl bear. Salem’ll like that. I’ll ask Terry to get her for me when we’re laying in bed after we fuck for the first time. He won’t tell me whether he’s getting me a new cuddly toy or not. He’ll let it be a surprise. If the sex is really good, I may get more for Christmas.
Maybe this year he won’t throw Christmas dinner at me. Last year he threw the stuffing and it took ages to get it out of my hair. This year we’ll eat naked, so I’ll need to turn up the heat. Last year I couldn’t afford to have the heat on. I spent too much money on Terry’s Christmas presents. But this year everything will be perfect and I’ll get Terry lots of Christmas presents. I can’t wait to see what he’s going to get me. I’ve already bought some of his. I know how much he likes toys, especially Power Rangers. I got him some new ones. They’re at home wrapped up nicely and hidden underneath my bed. When I go to the supermarket, if it isn’t too busy, I’ll go down the toy aisle and see if there’s any toys he doesn’t have. They won’t be his Christmas presents. I’ll give them to him tonight. It’ll better my chances, so maybe he won’t have to be drunk. But I don’t care if I have to give him toys and get him drunk. It’ll make no difference. He’ll fuck me up the arse if he’s sober or I’ll fuck him if he’s drunk.
I can nearly feel his big cock up there now. I wonder if it’ll tear my arsehole. I regularly stick a dildo up there to ensure that when Terry’s ready my arsehole will be ready to take him. He has a really big dick, even when it’s soft. When its erect it’s gigantic.
I walked in on him jerking off a few months ago. It was the best minute of my life watching him play with himself like that. Then he noticed, but his dick didn’t shrivel up. It stayed erect as he chased me out of his room with a baseball bat. I know he started masturbating again once I was gone. I went into my bedroom and sat with my ear pressed against the wall that separates me from Terry. I heard him moaning. It was probably the best sound I’ve ever heard. I started to jerk-off upon hearing it. If Terry didn’t chase me away neither one of us would have to masturbate. We’d play with each other, like we’re going to do tonight. I can’t wait to suck his dick, but it’s so big I don’t think I’ll be able to get it all in my mouth. I wonder what it will be like to suck balls. I’m sure I’ll find out tonight or tomorrow. It’s going to be nice having Terry’s pubes caught in my teeth instead of some girl’s. His pubes are blond, unlike the girls. They dye their hair, but never their pubes. I wonder if balls are salty. I bet Terry’s jiz is. I don’t care. I like salt. It’ll be like salty milk. I don’t think I’ll spit his jiz in his face though. It’ll be alright if he does it to me, but I want to swallow his. I’ll hold it in my mouth for a minute or two so I can really get the flavour. I’ll make sure none leaks out. Terry’s dick will grow hard again when he sees me swallowing his jiz. He’ll kiss me to make sure I’ve swallowed all of it. Then he’ll suck me off. Just thinking about it is making me hard.
I look at my watch. I have time to jerk-off. I get off the sofa and go into the cold toilet. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I have dark rings around my eyes. That’s probably why Emma thinks I’m ill. I unzip my jeans and pull them down to my knees. As soon as my cock is out of my pants it springs up. I sit on the toilet. I don’t have much time so I’ll have to be quick. I wrap one hand around my dick and rub. I’ll be faster if I stick a finger up my arse. There’s just enough space to kneel on the floor. I have to be careful not to bump my head on the sink. I make sure my jeans are covering my knees so they don’t touch the filthy tiles. Careful not to hit my elbow on the toilet I reach behind and stick my middle and index fingers up my arse. They feel cold. I push them up as far as they will go and move them around in circles. The hand on my dick is moving faster. I wish I had some lotion. I’m careful to be quiet. I’m about to ejaculate. I quickly pull my fingers out of my arse and stand up. I hold onto the sink for support. My wrist hurts from the fast back and forth motion. The first white semen escapes my dick. I stand on tiptoes and jiz in the sink. After a moment I wash my hands. I use normal soap. My arse and dick aren’t dirty so I don’t require Swarfega.
I pull up my pants and trousers and go into the backroom. I sit on the clean comfortable sofa. I listen for any sound from the shop floor. I don’t want to leave Emma out there alone if it gets busy. I hear her talking to a man but I don’t hear anything else. The shits mustn’t be in yet, but they’ll be soon. I should probably go out there.
I wish I could lie here thinking of Terry until it’s time to close, but that’ll just give Alex more stuff to use against me. I’ll wait until I don’t hear the man anymore then go back out there. I can’t make out what they’re talking about. All I hear is muffled voices.
I hope the little shits aren’t too annoying tonight. Sometimes when me and Emma are trying to close they won’t leave. I’m not dealing with it tonight. I want to get home to Terry. If it’s not too busy we can kick the shits out early and Emma will be able to close by herself. I’ll say I’m not feeling well. Alex won’t be able to complain about that. And it’s not like Emma is incapable of closing the shop. Alex is just a fucking arsehole who has no respect for his wife.
I hate Alex so much. He makes me feel physically ill. If I were bigger I’d beat the shit out of him. I realise I’m grinding my teeth, rather painfully, and my entire body is paralysed with tension. Maybe Terry will massage the knots out of my muscles later before sitting on my biggest muscle. He’s still an anal virgin. His eyes will leak tears as he lowers himself down on me. He would have already lubricated my entire body, including my penis, with massage oil. It’ll help my cock enter him. My dick will feel the brown hole’s tight embrace. It’ll be painful for me too. My cock will feel claustrophobic as it enters such a small space. But I’ll hide my pain and caress his thighs as he slowly allows my dick to enter him. I’ll tell him to relax; it won’t hurt as much if he does.
His salty tears fall onto my chest. His crying is silent. My hands caress the smooth outers of his thighs and feel slight dimpling towards his lower back and arse. I urge him lower. But at his own pace. Our skin is kissed by the frosty air of my bedroom, but I know we’ll be warm soon and maybe even sweating. I move my hands to his lower back and gently push him down the rest of the way. He lets out a single little cry. His eyes are still leaking as I urge him up. Slowly, gently. I encourage him back down. I move my hands up his back to his shoulders and down his arms. I take his hands in mine. I kiss each knuckle and place his hands on my shoulders. My hands return to his lower back. His tears pool on my chest. I urge him up and down. Each time quicker than the last. I feel his arsehole loosening. Moans replace his tears. Our goose pimples go away as our bodies heat up. I feel a smile grace my face as he relaxes. His eyes are closed. He bites his lower lip, it looks hard enough to draw blood. My moans join his. They are more faked than real, but it doesn’t matter, this is Terry. I close my eyes. I hear my bed hit the wall. He’s moving himself up and down. I thrust in and out in the same rhythm. The bed springs squeak, I have one raping my arse. I ignore it and focus on my cock thrusting in and out of Terry.
Terry’s moans become louder as he nears orgasm. His upper body is leaning against mine. My arms and hands support his arse as he rides me faster and faster. He screams and jiz spouts out his dick and onto my stomach. I caress his blond hair and tilt his head towards mine. I feel his come dripping down my stomach and onto my sheets. I want to look at him before I clean my bedding with my tongue. I open my eyes. I’m in the back room lying on the sofa.
I feel my penis beginning to soften as it realises that it isn’t in Terry but restrained in my trousers. I hear Emma humming, loudly, and occasionally breaking into song. I imagine her dancing in her happy, fun looking way as she tidies the shop. I hear myself laughing. A joyous sound. And I suppose that is how I’m feeling. I assume the customer has left. I should probably go out there and help Emma prepare for this mad rush of customers she’s predicted but I don’t particularly want to. And my penis is still semi-erect.
I want to stay back here and fantasise about Terry until it’s time to leave for the supermarket. A chill goes up my spine shaking my entire body and numbing my fingers and toes. In only a few hours my tongue will be licking Terry’s arsehole. It’ll be my dessert.
I decide to stay out here until I hear customers; maybe the little shits won’t come in if they don’t see me in the shop. I put my feet up on the sofa and lie down. Perhaps my boots will get it dirty enough to take home. I vigorously wipe the soles on the armrest. I’m not worried about the bottom of my boots. For Terry, any amount of bacteria is worth it. I’d drink a bucket full of the flesh eating kind if he promised to love me before I died. He’d look after me as my tissues began the necrosis process. But Terry would never allow me to do something as stupid as commit suicide, particularly using something as disgusting as flesh eating bacteria.
I look at the armrest. The soles of my boots must be spotless. I can’t even see the colour of the sofa beneath all the street-debris. This sofa is so much more comfortable than the one at home. I’d love to be lying on it, as I am now, as Terry’s sucks my dick. He’ll circle my pisshole with his tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure through my penis and balls. I’ll scream as he licks the vein that runs the length of my cock. I’ll feel the crack that runs down the centre of his tongue on it. I’ll squirm, making feeble efforts to get away from a pleasure so intense I have never felt it before. He’ll take my entire cock in his mouth. The back of his throat will relax as the last inch enters. He’ll stop just before I ejaculate. He’ll never know how close I came to blowing my load down the back of his throat.
Terry stares up at me with his blue eyes. He smiles. I smile back. He lowers his head and gives my balls a final wet lick but the orgasm has left them.
I watch him prance towards the bathroom. He signals for me to stay on the sofa just before he leaves my range of vision. I don’t think I’d be able to follow him, even if he wants me too. I hear the bathroom door open. He closes it gently behind him. The walls are thin and cheaply made so I can hear Terry opening the medicine cabinet and rummaging around for something. I decide to kneel on the sofa with my ear pressed against the wall. Maybe I’ll get a clue about what he’s looking for and be able to anticipate what comes next. He must be trying to be as quiet as possible because, even with my ear pressed against the paper-thin wall, the rummaging is hushed.
I think he wants to surprise me with something. He seems to be putting a lot of effort into being quiet. I feel torn between Terry’s desire and my own, perfectly natural, curiosity. My ear is pressed so tightly against the wall I feel it going flat and red. Absently I listen to Terry. I’m not really registering the noises I’m hearing – I’m still deciding whether I should or shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Terry never said I couldn’t listen to what he’s doing, but he did imply it. Sort of.
I feel a cold greasy finger running up my spine. It frightens me and causes me to jump while sending chills through my upper body. My head bangs against the wall. Before I have time to move away Terry grabs my ankle with a non-greasey hand. Although I know I heard Terry coming back into the front room, I was too busy trying to decide if it was right or wrong to be listening to what he was doing to register him coming back into the room. I feel pressure on my ankle as Terry pulls. I’m falling backwards. He has yet to let go of my ankle. I try to twist around so I can see his face. I tumble off the sofa and hit the floor with a thud that vibrates through my body making my erect penis dance. Before I can turn around to look at Terry’s face so I can see his expression and figure out if he’s disappointed or angry, I feel his foot pressing down on the centre of my back. I feel him bending down until it is his knee and lower leg keeping me still. His non-greased hand is holding my head down so I can’t look up at him. Perhaps, he doesn’t want me to see his face. The pressure on my back and head is uncomfortable, but I deserve it.
“Lick the floor,” he growls in my ear.
I obey without question.
“Taste the microbes that live between the floorboards.”
I hesitate. He twists my hair in his hand and pulls my head up. He slams it back to the floor.
“Lick it Seth.”
I cower but obey.
“Clean the dust mites that feast on your dead skin.”
I’m shaking. I begin to cry. But still, I obey Terry.
“Don’t they taste nice?”
I’m so ashamed of myself. I should have stayed resting on the sofa. Terry is right to punish me. Dust and dirt stick to my tongue and the back of my throat as I swallow. I can feel things moving on it. I hear my tears raining upon the floor. I move my tongue towards them looking for something to lubricate the bacteria out of my mouth. Terry rapidly pulls on my hair snapping my neck back.
“That’s enough now Seth.”
I feel relief and billions of bacteria reproducing in my mouth. Maybe Terry will let me brush my teeth.
“I was going to be gentle,” he says in a menacing whisper.
“What is it?” he spits.
“My teeth,” I somehow manage to say.
He shakes his head in exaggerated anger. He untangles his hand from my hair. There’s an ache in my forehead where he hit it against the floor. I’m careful not to allow my head to bang against the cold threadbare carpet as the last of my hair is released from Terry’s hand. He pushes his knee into my back. Quickly he pulls his leg off me and grabs underneath my arms with both his hands. He drags my aching body to a kneeling position so suddenly it makes me dizzy. I sway backwards. Terry tightens his grip. I feel the greased hand slipping from my armpit. I tense.
“Relax,” he whispers.
It sounds like he’s smiling. I try to turn around. If he is smiling I want to see, it is a rare occasion it’s special – especially if it is the second time in a matter of minutes. But fresh dizziness envelops me. I shut my eyes and inhale deeply. Terry supports my weight. I exhale, opening my eyes as I do so. I feel better. I can feel my muscles release some of the tension and try to allow Terry to be in complete control of me. His hands are slowly escaping from my armpits. I let them but I turn my body around so I’m facing the sofa. I rest my upper body weight on it.
“Good,” Terry says, “very good”.
He slaps my bottom to show his approval. It stings slightly. He spreads my legs apart. It’s rather uncomfortable kneeling in this position. I try to shift more of my weight to my arms and the sofa. My arsehole hair stands on end trying to protect me.
I open my eyes only to see a big stain on the cushion. Maybe Terry will let me clean it later. I feel his greased knuckles trying to gain entrance to my anus while his other hand keeps my arsecheeks separated. My arms and legs are having difficulties supporting my weight. I feel myself slipping. Automatically all my muscles tense. I really need to stay in this position, it is how Terry wants me to be. I hear laughter. Maybe Terry wants me to fall, he’ll probably find it funny. Slowly I relax my muscles, paying extra attention to ensuring my arsehole is ready for Terry. My legs are wobbly and shaking. Terry’s hand prying apart my arsecheeks is soothing. I’m not surprised as I feel a greased finger enter my anus. I’m slipping further down but Terry isn’t lowering his hand. His finer goes further up my arse as I fall. I cling to the sofa cushion. My sweaty palms makes it harder. I wish that Terry was impaling me on more of his fingers, surely he knows I regularly shove a dildo up there. He must hear me moaning in the night when there’s no teenage girl who looks like him. As if reading my thoughts, Terry adds another finger. It isn’t exactly a tight fit. I feel him separating the two fingers inside me.
I hear myself squeal. I didn’t know I was going to do that. My shoulders rotate slightly while my body stays still. I close my eyes. I bite down on my lower lip partially masking another squeal as Terry turns his hand in a semi-circles while moving his fingers apart. He pushes his fingers in and out of my arse while bringing them close together before separating them again. I’m surprised to feel drool dripping down my chin and probably pooling on the sofa. The drool has dirt from the floor in it which scratches my skin. He puts his non-greased hand loosely over his hand prying apart my arse cheeks further.
With a rapid movement he pulls his fingers out. I feel his knuckles gaining entry to my arse. Air explodes out of my lungs forcing my eyes open and my drool to be projectile. He pushes his fist further up my arse. I think my eyes are going to pop out of my head. His fist is a really tight fit but my arse is ready for it. He begins to move it out, slowly, and back in. His nails must be digging into his palms but my arse is loosening. Shivers of pleasure explode through my body. I hear myself panting and moaning. The sounds seem like they are coming from far away. Terry’s bringing me to a standing position. I feel his other hand on the small of my back, steadying me as his fist forces me to rise up. I’m on tip toes with Terry’s fist up my arse. I feel slight pain as more of my weight shifts to my anus. My toes leave the floor in a final ecstasy of pleasure. I feel like I’m falling. I land with a thud.
“Fuck,” I growl as I open my eyes and see the backroom.
My cock is painfully hard and I think I hurt my back on impact. It doesn’t hurt badly enough to put a stop to this evening’s plans.
I hope the noise coming from the shop is being made by actual customers doing a bit of Christmas shopping and not the little shits who probably don’t even buy Christmas presents for their own mothers. I must have been back here awhile, unless all the customers came in at the same time, although that seems unlikely. I feel my penis throbbing and pushing against my trousers in a bid to escape and be loved. There’s absolutely no chance of it shrinking back down to softness on its own. I’m left with no choice except to masturbate. I can’t go out there like this. It may scare the customers away, or, make them want to mount me like I’m a pony. And if there’s any teenage girls out there I’ll probably be raped right there on the shelving unit with the CDs poking my arse and thighs.
Painfully I get up off the floor. I find it amazing that the zip on my trousers hasn’t ripped open. I go back to the minuscule toilet to jerk off into the sink. I unzip my trousers with difficulty. Less than a minute passes before the white fluid escapes my penis in something more of a release than pleasure. I try to aim my jiz for the drain hole but a little ends up in the sink. I let out an audible sigh and pull up my trousers. I don’t have time for the water to heat up so I rinse the sink with cold water, switch off the light and head for the shop, zipping up my trousers on the way.
I pause by the door; it sounds desperately busy out there and Emma is all alone, she needs me. Luckily the door opens towards me and not into the shop. I guess those idiot builders did something right. But I do wish it had a window, I could put a curtain over it so I could still jerk-off back here. Cautiously I open the door. I don’t want to be mauled by little shits. I need to help Emma with actual customers. I observe people bumping into each other and muttering apologies. If only an eighth of the people in here buy something I’ll be having a very nice Christmas with Terry. I’ll even buy him that expensive action figure set he wants. He’ll be so pleased on Christmas morning that he’ll fuck me underneath the tree and shove bobbles up my arse when he’s finished.
I take a slow step into the shop and look around some more. I don’t see any little shits but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I sniff the air and squint my eyes in a bid to smell them and see the front of the shop.
“Hi Seth,” an enthusiastic teenage voice squeals from next to me.
The horrible noise goes through my ears and violently assaults the centre of my brain. I haven’t even shut the door yet. It is only too easy to imagine her pushing me into the back room, ripping off my trousers and shoving her fingers up my arse. Then she’ll lick them in a quest to make me erect so she can rape me on the sofa. Within a few seconds I’m surrounded by little shits. I feel like I’m drowning. All I see is fat, blonde teenage girls probably wondering which one I’m going to be taking home tonight. Some of them have a slight green tint to their hair. It looks like some bizarre new type of mould. I wish it was possible to shower in bleach. Perhaps I can have a bath in it instead.
“Please let me by,” I say as I try to shove myself through them.
If they were thinner it would probably be possible, but their fat merges them into one blob. One of them grabs my arse. I let out a little unpreventable squeal. I hope that actual paying customers didn’t hear. They may think I’m enjoying it and leave without buying anything. I clench my arse as the girl tries to play with the wobbly flesh. I feel germs entering my pores as another one licks my neck with her bacteria-infested tongue. I shudder. Unfortunately this involuntary action results in my arse being squeezed tighter and more of my neck being covered in slobber. I can feel the microbes dripping down into my shirt collar. Another girl starts rubbing her fat bottom against my groin, probably in hope of making me erect. I feel my kebab bubbling in my stomach. These girls are repulsive. Their cheap perfume is causing me to gag and itch. Coupled with my bubbling stomach, I think I might vomit. Everything seems to be spinning. Their faces go in and out of my vision. I try to focus on something . One of the girls has the glitter of silver in her smiling giggly mouth. I stare at it. Out of the silver come bands of colour, orange. If she wants me that badly she should know all things orange, including train-track braces, are banned. I ignore the orange – I’ll deal with it when the world comes back into focus, and stare fixedly at the silver. My stomach is settling and everything is coming back. I wish Terry was here. He’d take me away from these horrible teenage girls. My next best hope is Emma, but it’s too busy in here for her to see that I’m being molested by teenage girls.
I make a renewed effort to push myself out of their claustrophobic circle.
“I have to help Emma with the customers. It’s too busy for you to be in here, so unless you actually intend on buying something you have to leave,” I say in a raised voice.
They ignore this. I guess in teenage girl land “leave” means “stay”. I hear giggles. An obnoxious sound. Terry never giggles. I clench my fists. I wouldn’t ever take teenage girls home if Terry just had me in the first place. I would demonstrate how good of a fuck I am to him directly rather than have him listen to the moans and screams of teenage girls. But most of the time, he won’t even look at me. That’ll change, tonight.
“Hey Seth you look like you need some help.”
I look up and see two of the ugliest little shits imaginable. They are both trying to look like me which makes me feel even worse. One of them has ginger roots. I shudder.
“Go away,” I hear one of the girls say.
“Can’t you see you’re upsetting him,” a different teenage girl states.
She’s also upsetting me. Along with her stupid friends. It is a wonder that she can’t see that. I feel clammy hands on my stomach as one of them pulls up my jumper exposing the soft flesh. I want Terry to play with my stomach flab between his teeth, sucking it in and out. But it isn’t Terry’s hand touching my stomach looking for a place to suck. The hands belong to some grubby teenage girl. Instead of sucking Terry off within minutes of arriving home I’m going to have to shower first. I’ll buy some antibacterial shower gel and exploiting soap when I’m in the supermarket. Maybe I’ll purchase a bottle of thin bleach as well and add that to a bath I’ll have after the shower, just incase there’s any teenage girl germs left on my body. I want to be as clean as possible for Terry. I grit my teeth. I feel my face turning red with anger and frustration.
“Are you going to buy anything this evening? Because if you’re not then you can leave right now. I have enough problems around here without a bunch of school children hanging around,” I say through gritted teeth, not loud enough for actual customers to hear.
I still feel clammy bacteria-riddled hands touching me all over. I think they’ve made a collective decision to ignore my statement. I gather strength into my muscles, lower my head and try head-butting my way out of their circle. I bounce back and into the arms of a teenage girl with excessively sweaty armpits. I try not to breathe; if the stench doesn’t kill me, the bacteria will. I can feel my teeth grinding away, soon they’ll be nothing except dull tiny white fragments and I’ll have to eat through a straw. Terry won’t find that very appealing.
“We weren’t school children yesterday when you took Ilse home and fucked her good from what she’s been saying,” one of the girls says and flutters her eyelashes.
I hate it when girls do that. Terry never flutters his eyelashes.
I somehow manage to feel myself turning an even darker shade of red. I really don’t want to ever hear Ilse’s name again. She was completely vile. She most closely resembled Terry, until her clothes came off. My stomach starts to bubble again. If I get sick, maybe it’ll be projectile and land on most of them and then they’ll have to go home. Not even disgusting little shits want to walk around covered in vomit. Although, they may want to cherish the clothes I puke on. They might even use it to put some weird voodoo love spell on me. I wish I knew voodoo, then I could put a love spell on Terry. I try not to smile but thinking of waking up to Terry next to me every day for the rest of our lives results in one. I try to hide it with my hands but as my arms go up to shield my face they are grabbed.
I feel hot sticky breath on my chin. The stench is unbelievable and reminds me of cat piss. My lunch forces it way up. I swallow. A deeply regrettable action. A sticky kiss on my chin. Lips searching for mine. And I’m pinned down with my weight resting on a fat, arse-pinching teenage girl. I bite down on my lips determined that this girl won’t stick her tongue in my mouth. I squirm and struggle against whoever has trapped me. I don’t want to be kissed by a teenage girl. I want to be pinned down and kissed by Terry. My eyes are wide open. I can see where her eye shadow has flaked off in clumps from applying too much. Some of it is going to flake off on me. She should know I don’t like make-up.
Unless I get into the bath before Terry sees me he definitely won’t have me. He wouldn’t want me after some teenage girl has had me. Or even if he suspects me of fucking a teenage girl while at work. I send one foot and leg flying upwards into her crouch. I see a look of surprise grace her face. I lower my leg and kick her again before she can begin to think that I want to rub my leg against her festering vagina. Her tongue stops trying to gain entry into my mouth. I hope no customers saw me kicking her – they may leave without buying anything. And then there’ll be less money to spend on Terry. Slowly she begins to back away with an expression of shock mixed with hurt rejection on her face. Tears well up in her eyes. But I don’t feel sorry for her, she shouldn’t be molesting me, especially right here in my shop filled with customers.
I feel fingernails digging into my arse, but they aren’t moving like they were before I kicked the girl. Her friends must also be shocked, hurt and rejected. Unfortunately the grip on my arms is not loosening. I attempt moving them. It feels like they’re tied down with bricks. I kick again in a bizarre tap dance hoping the sudden movement will awaken the other girls. I’m not going to stop kicking until they let me go. All of a sudden I drop to the floor, landing hard with shivers of pain raping my spine. I hope my arsehole isn’t injured. I was going to buy vegetables for Terry to shove up there. I see beady blue eyes looking down on me. A flash of blonde hair follows as the girls turn around and run off, pushing the hideously ugly little shits out of their way. I hear crying.
“Let me help you up,” the uglier of the two says and extends his hand down towards me.
I look at it and can see the bacteria on it reproducing but my back and arse hurt so badly there’s no way I’ll be able to get up on my own. I take it in both my hands. I realise I’m shaking, uncontrollably. The other little shit moves around behind me and puts his hands into my armpits. He lifts me while I pull on the other hideously ugly little shit’s hands. I hope my back and arse feel better by the time I get home. I’ll pick up some painkillers from the supermarket just incase. I’m not going to miss my chance with Terry just because my arse and back hurt. When I’m standing I release the little shit’s hands. The other one is still supporting me. I wish it was Terry supporting me. Maybe we could go ice skating together and when I fall Terry will pick me back up.
“Are you okay?” The uglier of the two asks.
“Yeah, fine,” I lie.
The other little shit releases me. I look around. I suppose the little shits want me to say something.
I have nothing else to tell them.
My way forward is blocked by people looking at CDs that I hope they’re going to buy. I look for a path around them, leaving the two ugly little shits in the back of the shop. It doesn’t appear that anyone noticed my kicking episode.
“Excuse me,” I mutter to an overweight, middle-age woman dressed in the goth fashion.
She tries to move out of the way but she’s too big and there’s too many people in the shop. I attempt to move past her. Unfortunately a tall man moves right into the space I was stepping into. I’m caught between her fat arse and the tall man. It isn’t a very comfortable position and it’s hurting my back and arse some more. But it’s better than being mauled by teenage girls and helped up by hideously ugly little shits. I only hope that the overweight goth doesn’t fart. Although, even that sounds better than dealing with the little shits tonight. I know the teenage girls are expecting me to take home one of them but tonight is Terry’s night. I only managed to fend off four so far.
Tonight Terry’ll be washing his jiz out of my arsehole. The water will feel cool and refreshing up my anus. It’s sore from finally being used by his gigantic cock. Even the slight sting as he pushes shower gel up there will feel good. My dick will once again grow hard as his finger pushes in and out.
I feel something squishy grinding against my cock. I open my eyes, unaware I had shut them in the first place. I realise my penis is hard. This fat goth woman with her dyed black hair must think my erection is for her. I feel a shudder inside me which needs to be repressed. It’s difficult. If I do shudder this woman may not buy anything and then I’ll have less money to buy Cornflakes for Terry. Thinking of Terry makes the need to shudder pass.
I close my eyes again and caress her fat arse. I’m going to have to scrub my hands until the skin peels away. Through her skirt I can feel cellulite. I can’t even pretend I’m caressing Terry. It is completely vile. My stomach is turning. I hope the kebab stays down. If I get sick on her she may leave without purchasing something.
I bet this woman’s natural hair colour is ginger. It’s always that way with goths. They dye their horrible orange hair black quoting Edgar Allan Poe and listening to Depeche Mode while the dye sets. They probably have hair-dying, Edgar Allan Poe quoting, Depeche Mode parties. I wonder how they all fit into the bathroom to rinse the dye. Terry hates goths, although I’ve never worked out why – he loves dyed black hair and typical goth-like things. It doesn’t matter; Terry doesn’t like goths so neither do I.
Through this woman’s skirt I can feel large craters on her bottom and upper thighs. I can feel the fat wobbling. The microbes that live on her skin must live in perpetual fear of earthquakes. I imagine bacteria clinging to her skin as her fat shakes back and forth while she thrusts her arse against my penis. They try hiding in the dimples, but these wobble too. Some end up in her knickers and falling down her skirt with dead skin cells. Her skin resembles an orange peel that suffers from frequent earthquakes. One would think that past a certain point of obesity the fat cells would even out and the skin wouldn’t appear to look like oranges, but I guess that’s not true. I feel my cock and balls trying to crawl inside me and away from this woman’s huge dimply arse. I think they want to hide. There’s the distinct burning taste of vomit in the back of my throat. I swallow and force it back down.
Surely she can no longer feel my penis, if she even felt it in the first place. All those layers of fat must act as insulation against the nerve cells. I wonder if she’ll ever stop.
The man behind me manages to escape, pushing me closer to the goth woman’s gigantic arse. I lose my balance and fall backwards into the CDs. She uses her opportunity to stick her wobbly arse further and further out in order to rape my cock. I bet she knows of Terry and wants to use me to get to him. But he won’t have her. He’ll have me. She probably wants to rape us both at the same time. I bet she wants to suck my dick while she rides Terry. If she sat on him, or anyone for that matter, she’d kill him. I’d be surprised if anyone could find her hole. There must be some sort of prize for anyone who can do it. I bet she can’t even finger herself. The rolls of her stomach must be in the way every time she tries. Not to mention the fat on the upper part of her arms. I wonder if her vagina is fat. I almost picture it, but it is too disgusting. I don’t think my brain is able to handle it.
I don’t know how she squeezed through the shop’s door. Surely she must know she’s too large to fit safely in the aisles. What happens if there’s a fire? Anyone behind her would either be scorched alive or die of smoke inhalation because she’d block the only exit.
She’s trying to turn around. Here’s my chance to escape. But her hips are even wider than her arse. She seems to be experiencing difficulties in turning around. My legs are numb. I think she has cut off circulation to them. I hope my penis works tonight for Terry.
I feel tears in my eyes. I cannot prevent them running down my face. I feel CD cases pushing against my lower back. If I don’t escape I’m probably going to end up in A&E having plastic shards removed from my flesh. Then Terry will have to pick me up from hospital. He won’t be very happy about having to leave the house and he’ll give me the silent treatment for weeks as punishment. Maybe even until Christmas. I have to get away from this woman. Luckily my arms aren’t trapped. I grab hold of the shelving unit. I pull with all my strength to free myself, not caring about the mess I’m going to make or the damage I may cause to the stock. I wish Terry liked muscles, then I’d have some and stand a better chance to escape. I twist my torso and squirm. If I could feel my legs I’d add some kicking, but I think they may have died.
I open my eyes. Through blurred vision I can see her stringy black hair covering her face as she struggles to turn around. I push her wobbly flesh. It leaves sweaty palm prints on her crushed velvet overcoat. I don’t think she was able to feel it underneath all those layers of fat.
I feel someone touching my arm. The hand is too thin to belong to this woman. I try to turn my head hoping to see Emma’s concerned face. I feel dizzy and light headed. My heart feels like it is having difficulty circulating blood. I can’t turn to see who is there. I feel myself tumbling out of reality. Darkness overtakes me.
“Seth,” I look over at Terry.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table. He points to his shoes. He wants me to lick them. I drop the cup I’m washing into the soapy water in the sink. I fall to my hands and knees and crawl across the dirty kitchen floor and underneath the table. I feel grit digging into my naked knees. I wish he’d let me sweep, even if I can’t mop afterwards. He strokes the top of my head like I’m the cat he wishes he has. I put my tongue on the top his shoe and begin licking. The shoe smells terrible and probably has bacteria cities growing on it.
Terry scratches behind my ear. I continue licking. I pretend it is his cock I’m licking, it makes the experience more enjoyable. He tilts his foot up putting pressure on his heel so I can lick the dog shit out of the treads.
Terry puts his warm palm on my forehead and brushes my hair out of my face, probably to prevent the dog shit from ending up in it.
That voice doesn’t sound very much like Terry. Nervously I reach my tongue out. The world begins to ripple like someone dropped a stone into the lake of existence.
“Seth,” I hear a woman’s voice say.
My tongue shakes as it gets closer. I taste shit. I wish it was Terry’s but it belongs to some local dog with an irresponsible owner.
“He’s coming around,” I hear a girl whisper.
I feel woman’s hands on my forehead. I open my eyes. And rapidly close them, the light is too bright. I want to go back to licking Terry’s shoes. Then he can shove a dildo up my arse and make me suck it like a lolly afterwards.
“Give him a moment,” I hear Emma whisper to the girl, hopefully a friendly one and not one expecting me to take her home and fuck her.
A hand strokes my forehead. Another one is gripping my hand. I’m lying down on something soft. The sofa, I assume.
“What happened?” I croak with my eyes closed.
I can see light behind my lids. I don’t want to risk burning my corneas. I won’t be able to look at Terry if I do.
“You fainted,” the girl replies.
I groan. I wish Terry was looking after me. I groan again and try moving myself to a sitting position. I feel pressure on my hand and forehead.
“Hold still,” Emma says.
I struggle against her. I need to get up so I can go to the supermarket and buy things for Terry.
I continue to struggle. I feel hands clasping my ankles.
I stop squirming. I don’t want to open my eyes until I’m sitting up. That way the bright overhead lighting can’t shine in them. The hands loosen their grip on my ankles. The warm hand leaves my forehead. It moves down my shoulder and underneath my arm. The second time today I’ve been picked up from my armpits. Someone slowly helps me to a sitting position. I cautiously open my eyes. I look around and take in the contents of the backroom. I hear noise from the shop.
“Who’s running the shop?” I ask.
“Joshua,” Emma replies, “I told him we’ll pay him.”
It’s so busy we can afford to. If the shop stays this busy I may want to think about hiring him for evenings and weekends in the run-up to Christmas. And maybe, sometimes I could leave early so I can cook dinner for Terry.
“Hi Seth,” a nervous looking girl says and gives a little wave.
She looks like the female version of Terry. I smile and wave back. If I didn’t have plans with Terry tonight I’d take her home. Perhaps, one day Terry will be interested in a three-some.
“This is Carissa,” Emma says.
To read a preview of Carissa, go here www.patreon.com/posts/seth-21864312 Support from just $1 per month for complete access to Seth drafts. For $25 per month, you get a special edition of Seth once I get a new computer and can self-publish it.