Chapter one

The club was slowly emptying. Drunken groups slowly walking towards the exit as the DJ played his last few beats. Looking towards the floor I see all the spilt alcohol appearing spread by many different footprints. Luckily there’s no dropped glass or plastic and the bouncers did well throwing out the couples getting too friendly. Some people might like the idea of sex in clubs, the knowledge that anyone and everyone might be watching; but they never think about the people who have to clean up after them. People like me.

As another bartender turns the lights on and the door is left open I try not to shiver as the cold English air brushes my sweaty skin. For such a cold wet country I’d never have guessed it could get so hot with so many people crowded into one room. Pulling my shirt I start to gather the abandoned bottles to be thrown away.

‘Andreas, good work tonight,’ the manger said as he sorts out the night’s earning. The other more experienced bartenders say nothing, more worried about when they can leave for their beds. They’ve probably had month’s worth of experience with the weekend shift compared to my first. Not wanting to appear too eager for praise I simply nod and smile before getting back to work. With my ears still partly deaf it’s easy to ignore any whispers behind my back.

The hour passes quickly with the drone of washing and cleaning the floor, used glass smashing and the blissful silence. As always I try not to let my mind wonder, keeping my thoughts to the here and now; not worrying about the nine am start with class tomorrow or how noisy my housemates will be when I get back. They may get away with not having to worry about money but not all of us are that lucky.

‘Andreas…Andreas... Hey Jesse,’ the mangers hand landing on my shoulder causes me to jump, looking around quickly only to discover that we’re the only ones left. ‘You okay kid?’ the balding man asks kindly.

‘Yes sir, just kind of tired’ I reply rubbing the back of my head.

‘Understandable; having you work almost all week with nearly no warning isn’t for the faint of heart. I’m surprised you haven’t quite or dropped where you stand.’ His smile is crocked and the smell of sweat a thick odour on him. There’s nothing remarkable about my fortyish manger expect his growing beer belly and stained black top.

‘It’s okay; with how badly I need this job I’d even dance on the stage to keep it.’ Smiling I mentally hit myself on the back of my head; you do not tell your boss you’re desperate for the job; idiot. Digging my nails into my scalp I try not to pull my hair out again.

The manger says nothing while slowly looking more and more uncomfortable. How can this get any worse I wonder? Collecting the last of the litter I put the rubbish by the back door and put the broom away. The silence is still tense and the manger keeps watching me with that almost fatherly look in his eyes. I try not to drop the broom as I walk past him, feeling like he’s judging every small action as if I’m not worthy of this job.

‘Is it hard; studying in another country?’ he asked suddenly. Flinching at the sudden loudness of his voice I drop the broom and slam the storage door before turning to answer him.

‘Sometimes sir; mostly when people talk about going home to see their families for the weekend. But you get used to it and its fun to see other cultures.’ I answer truthfully remembering what he said during my interview. I hope he didn’t hire me out of pity because his son is over in America studying.

‘Hey, let me give you a lift back, it’s late and all sorts of weird people will be out and about this time of night, err morning,’ he corrected himself. Standing by the unlocked backdoor I feel the below zero winter air and take him up on his offer. I may be a lot of things, but stupid generally is not one of them. Grabbing my battered leather jacket it throw it on and rush towards the open door, jumping out of the manger’s way as he locks up for the night. The walk to his old mustang makes me yearn for home, for the family rust bucket and my beloved Suzuki.

‘So what plans have you got for the next three days off?’ the car sounds like it’s about to fall apart going over thirty miles an hour and nothing on the radio can cover the noise. A large part of me wonders if this was as smart an idea as I thought. Turning away from my drunkard watching I send him a puzzled look; I had no idea about having the next three days off, but score. ‘Having started work with such short notice I thought it best to let you have a few days off; to recover from having such a shock to the system,’ he explained.

‘Most likely getting back up to speed with uni work, none of my assessments are due for a couple of weeks; but best to get them started as soon as…’ I drift off nuzzling my cheek into my fur lined collar. Why can’t he turn on the heating? Will the radio over heat or something? I ask myself thinking back to what my father had ingrained into me about the family car.

‘Ah the joys of a university education.’ The wistful smile on such a young acting man is strange to say the least and I bite my tongue to not say anything that could be taken as an insult; Father says I’m good at that. Not sure if it’s anything to be proud of though, not that I’d say anything to his face.

The drive from the club car park through late night traffic into the sleepy neighbourhood I call home doesn’t take long. Barely ten minutes later we’re parked outside a small pub already closed for the night. Climbing out the car I quietly close the door with another smile before walking around back to head up the metal stairs to the single rooms upstairs. While living above a pub isn’t the most luxurious or glamorous place, the rent is cheap and the family who own it are nice enough to cook breakfast for me. The pub kitchen garden smells nice all day and it’s only a short walk to class every morning. No one really bothers me and I near enough live alone. Guess there’s hundreds of worse places to live then here.

Reaching my little slice of heaven I make sure to close the door firmly while not slamming it, careful of the students in their own rooms. The pub owners had converted their basement into a small flat and rent the rooms above to students. With five of us only having to share the kitchenette and tiny living room I’m always reminded of my first year of university and having to stay in halls; lonely at times and always loud floor mates. Have to admit this set up works so much better. Leaving the kitchen light off I slowly head towards my room with its shared bathroom before hearing the front door open and the light flicker on.

‘Oh sorry,’ one of the girls said staggering in. Dyed white blonde hair was pulled into disarray, nearly all of her make-up smudged and running while her clothes where on wrong. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what fun she’s had. ‘I meet, the wildest guy tonight. Talk about wild in the bed,’ she said leaning on the closed door.

Standing nearly a full room length away from her I can still smell the alcohol and drugs on her breath and body. When they say students’ party like nothing else I doubt they meant as much her.

‘Maybe you should jump into the shower,’ I say wondering if she can even make it to her room on her own. How she managed those metal twisting stairs I’ll never know.

‘Now? Why?’ she asks as she sways where’s she standing. Shaking my head I turn towards the left corridor where my room and another bloke’s are. The girls stay on the right side of the kitchen; guess the old couple still have old beliefs about how girls and boys should sleep. As in not together until married. If they knew about her habits I doubt they’d want her to stay, what with their grandchildren living in the basement.

‘Night Sara,’ I say as I wave behind me.

‘It’s Sarat stupid,’ she near enough yells in reply. Doors open as the guys glare at her in annoyance. Seemingly as one they close their doors, the thud echoing in the silent apartment. Already knowing of her habit of borrowing without intent to return everyone locks their doors tight. Having been one for following crowds I echo them nearly perfectly. Minus the glaring of course, Mother did beat manners into me and all.

Turning my light on I flop face first onto my springy bed. The sound of floorboards groaning is a constant frustration and I wonder how British people live with it all the time. Oh how I miss my family’s hotel and all the benefits of it. Turning my head look towards the nearly full moon hanging outside. With Halloween in two day’s time I can’t wait to party in one of the many clubs just five minutes away. Rolling onto my back I debate changing into the worn pyjamas lying around my bed. Lying in a pool of silver light I look towards the table I pushed towards the other wall as soon as I moved in.

The large pile of books to be read is daunting, both old classics and few moderns gems. The joys of being studying English at university; a life devote to books and the past. Kicking off my trainers I slowly start to undress, my muscles aching and a faint headache forming. The pain isn’t much to complain about barely enough to acknowledge. I’ll get used to it soon no doubt, just like I did the smell of industrial cleaners.

Stripping the last of my clothes I stand naked in the middle of my room. Although the curtains are open and anyone can look in and see me I have no fear of being seen. No one sane would be out this time of morning and even if they were, why would they look in that me? Grabbing a dog-eared book from the top of the pile I settle down to read it on my bed, uncaring for the warmth of the covers below me.

There’s something magical sitting in the moon light in a dark room, using the moon for light. My skin is bleached a pale brown, the tan I’ve had since birth just starting to faint because of the weak British sunlight. The world is silent around, the words running through my head the only thing I pay attention too. The rooms around me are silent. I could have been the only person here and there wouldn’t have been much difference.

Lifting my straining eyes I turn to look outside, noticing the moon soon to disappear behind a tall building. The sun in the opposite direction is a fainter midnight blue then the rest of the sky. I can’t help but open the window, wanting to breathe the night time jasmine air that I’m used to. Poking my head out the window I take a deep breath of the city air. It’s damp and cold, tasting of fumes and pollution; it’s disgusting to be honest but the action is habit. At least I have a view over the garden and tiny car park. As well as the front of the pub; two views are better than one even if it costs more.

Somewhere below me one of the bins topple over, the noise unnecessary loud in the silence. The landlord’s family dog starts barking. Looking down I see the green bin, used cans and left over food spilling over onto the road. The bin men won’t be happy picking that up tomorrow. Trying to see into the shadowed garden I make out a large lump by the fence, Bilbo standing on the metal stairs going crazy. Not wanting to face the others wraith I pull my old bottoms on and rush to unlock my door, reaching the back door in quick time.

‘Bilbo, no, bad boy, get here,’ I say in a loud whisper. Bilbo quickly stops to shake and whining looks up to me. The lump in the corner moves slightly, enough to set him off again. From the thing comes a deep rumble that sounds like a growl, the type you get from big dogs. Seeing lights go on I rush down the stairs to pick the small thing up, his body vibrating in my hands and the smell of something musky in the air. God it reeks down here; the stench covering up the smell of the roses and other fragrant plants. Taking a deep breath I freeze as I hear more of the deep rumble and what sounds like panting. Hearing Bilbo’s whine going up a notch I quickly turn around and run back upstairs to the sound of more dogs barking, large dogs close by.

As I close the door I can’t rid of the feeling I’ve just escaped something dangerous, something wild. The only thing I can smell is that musk and Bilbo’s piss. I really hope I’m not the one who ends up cleaning up after him. Keeping him safe in my arms I walk back to my room, expecting someone to come out their room and demand what the noise was about.

No one does, even though the howling sounds like its right outside the door.

Locking my bedroom door I place the small dog on my bed, turning on my light to get a good look at him. I’ve always had a soft stop for the King Charles Spaniels; there’s just something so majestic about them, from their markings to their long wavy fur. Keeping a close eye on Bilbo I quickly turn my room dog friendly as he curls up on my pillow still with a warm imprint of my bum.

‘Poor thing,’ I say to myself shivering in a stray breeze. Turning away from the road side window I look out over the garden, my eyes drawn back towards the shadow standing tall at the very back. The mass looks bigger now than it did before and as I watch it moves.

Three pairs of glowing amber eyes stared back at me. Lifting a hand to rub my no doubt tired eyes I look again only to find nothing there. No darker shadow, no glowing eyes, no more howling. Turning my head I watch as the mass runs around the side of the building. I run onto the bed to lean outside the road side window only to see no sign of the things. Bilbo is once more shaking like a leaf in a breeze.

‘Hey boy, it’s okay, there’s nothing there’ I whisper out into the night before closing me window. My skin is chilled and not just from the cold October air. Lifting the covers I lay down to sleep, dreading having to get up in three hours to get ready for lessons. Bilbo curls up even closer to my head and for a second all I can smell of clean fur and flowers.

As my eyes close all I can think about are glowing eyes of shocking amber.

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Chapter Two

I wake to the feeling of eyes watching me, mapping out my body under the thick covers and lumps I burry myself under. A wet nose presses into my face and I rough tongue licking above mouth.

‘Bilbo,’ I say around a laugh as I roll over; the small King Charles spaniel following and climbing over me. Just then there’s a sharp buzzing as my alarm goes off, the clocking hitting half seven. Looking at the timetable above my desk I take note of the date and then what lessons I have this wonderful morning. Nine am starts might be hell for some people but those that do appear for lesson are the ones who understand how much we’re paying for this education and want to get something out of it. Living in another country surrounding by a different culture very different from my own, I can’t even begin to understand the mindset of those British students.

Throwing the covers off I rough house with the boastful dog, burying him under the covers while he yaps like a puppy. Taking a quick breather I look up as the bin-men come around, rubbing my arms in the cold arm. The vehicle passes louder than normal and that’s when I notice half my covers are hanging out the window. I swear I closed it last night. I swear I locked it as well.

Seeing the old woman across the road start to open her curtain I slam it close and draw the heavy fabric in a rush. I do not want to be responsible for the old woman to have a heart attack. Still holding the curtains I pray to god that no one saw that. As Bilbo jumps down to roll with a pair of my dirty shocks’ I take a close look around my room, making sure everything’s as I left it. Nothing’s been move, not even by the strong early morning breeze. The books in a precarious pile close to toppling over, dirty clothes put over the back of my chair. There’s something wrong with this picture. What I can’t tell. Beside the fact I’ve once more kicked my pyjamas of in my sleep.

Hearing someone finishing their shower I grabbed my stuff and picked a clean top of my pile. That’s when I notice it. The pile of wrinkled clothes that’s always in a mess is neatly folded, better then ones folded by the maids back home. With a clean crisp fold the pile stinks of a thick musk, as if a dog had rolled in it before being folded and there’s fine silver dog hairs covering it. I look through the pile, hoping to find one clean and smelling nice; but it’s impossible. As I move the fabric the smell grows thicker, causing Bilbo to start growling again. Guess I have to go out smelling of dog until I can wash this all again. Maybe that’ll teach me for leaving my clean washing out.

Pulling some board shorts on I open my door, letting Bilbo run out towards the front door. Guess he’s ready to go back out. Looking outside as Bilbo shots past me I place my towel and clean clothes over the work-surface before following him outside, placing my key in my pocket. Being locked outside is no fun first thing in the morning.

Bilbo does everything in his power to avoid the corner the thing was in last night. The garden smells heavily of musk still, but it’s covered by the smell of breakfast and wet grass, the smell of late flowers and spilt rubbish. As I walk closer to the corner I notice how much stronger the musk is; merely five feet from the fence and I feel like I’m being chocked by it.

‘Hey Jess,’ a voice calls from the small patio at the top of the stairs. Turning around I see Ashton, one of the two other boys sharing the apartment with me.

‘What?’ I ask him glad for a reason to walk away from the smell. From Ashton’s face I guess he can smell it now too.

‘You might want to use the bathroom before one of the girls get in there,’ he replies as I run up the stairs. ‘I’ll go with you once you’re ready to go; need to print of some work for editing today. Man what is that smell?’

‘I think a dog got in last night,’ I reply.

‘Must have been one hell of a big dog,’ Ashton says as he walks me to the bathroom.

‘All I know is that Bilbo was going nuts at it.’ Locking the door I listen as Ashton walks away, muttering to one of the girls; if the wall banging is anything to go by guess she wanted to use the shower. Sparing a quick glace around I’m glad that we have another toilet with its own sink. The shower stall takes up most of the room and I miss having a bathtub to relax in; but I think having a power shower makes up for it. A jet of warm water hitting sleepy nerves is a great way to wake up.

The shower doesn’t take long to heat up, steam escaping through the small open window and under the door. In all my twenty one years I strongly believe this is the best way to truly wake up. The steam curls around my body, the hot water running over muscles and I roll my shoulders as I tip my head back. Knowing how little time I have I grab the shampoo and rub a small amount into thick lather, letting it foam up in my hair; feeling as it seeps down my neck and back, a cold trail contrasting my flushed front and the steam rubbing against me. Adjusting the shower into a fine mist I leave the shampoo to gently run down my back. Lifting the shower gel I inhale the smell coconuts and flowers floating around my head; a heady mix that could put me back to sleep. The smell of the gel compliments the shampoo and as I rub it into my skin I can’t help but take even deeper breathes.

Picking up the flannel I gently rub my foam covered skin; feeling the gel become foamier between my spread fingers because of the flannel and smelling the rice and honey blend with the coconut brought images up images of home. Of sunny beaches and clear lagoons, of ocean air and sweet sweat, of women in bikinis and men with six packs, bronze skin and playful hands rubbing warm skin.

I sigh as I feel my hand rub over my now sensitive skin, a thrill of arousal running through me. I can’t help but harden as the rough flannel gets closer to my groin, my chest and arms smooth of any remaining gel, the shampoo gently rinsing down my tense muscled back. Feeling the temptation to touch myself I bring the flannel around to my back, biting my lip not to moan in need as the flannel gently brushes my erection as I switch hands. The feel of the flannel running over my back brings another sigh. Ever since discovering what happens to worked muscles I’ve always enjoyed the feel of the hardness under silky skin; the contrast could mesmerize me for hours on end. The one girlfriend I’ve ever had never understood my fascination, said maybe I should have been gay; maybe she’s right, girls have never held much of my attention unlike pictures of guys who clearly work out lightly.

As I bring the flannel lower I can’t help but gently massage the round globes of my arse, the skin slick and smooth under the rough fabric. Slowly I bring it to my cleft, feeling my finger through the flannel stroke the soft skin there and run over my anus. The temptation to push into myself is there, a strong urge I find hard to resist at the best of time. As I pause resting the pad of the finger strongly against myself I feel myself harden even more. It’s been too long, the burning need close to taking over me.

‘Jesse hurry up,’ one of the girls yell over the sound of the washing machine being turned on.

‘A few more minutes,’ I reply covering a moan of disappointment. Looking down I feel the last of the foam run down my face, just enough to wash with and glare at my proud erection. Sometimes it feels like my body as a mind of its own. Placing the flannel on the small shelf along with the shampoo and gel I rub the foam over my face, careful of my eyes. I feel the evidence of sleep being wiped off, the small trail of drool and dust coating my eyes. Moving my head under the shower I massage my head to remove any remaining shampoo, the hot water hitting my tender scalp and washing down my back.

All that’s left is my erection; covered in shower gel and with cum already leaking out. Knowing I don’t have much time left I try and think of the best way to do this. I can’t take long or they’ll know what I’m doing. I can’t just jerk off because they’ll hear. It didn’t take me long to discover I’m a screamer; that ex-boyfriend was pleased to discover how vocal I can be.

Picking up the flannel once more I place one hand over my length, bringing my hand to my mouth to bite a finger to stop as much noise escaping. The feel of the flannel is heaven; the textual of it. The heat of my fist closing around myself, surrounding me. I try not to let out a gasp as I move to lean back against the tiled wall. Its coldest saps the heat out of my hot, causing the burning ache in my groin to become worse, so much worse. As I move my hand, slowly building up to a fast quick tempo I close my eyes. It’s easy to lose myself to my favourite fantasy; to embrace the thought of not being alone.

This fantasy is simple, beautiful in it’s simplistically. In my mind and dreams I can see nothing, only feel with the tips of my fingers and my sensitive skin. Someone big, someone taller with large hands is before me, stroking my skin as you would a favourite pet; altering between heavy petting and barely there stroking. His head moves, his hair brushing my skin as lips meet my nipples; small nips and licks moving between each pebble as I arch my back. Wanting, needing more; more licks, more nips, more stroking, more petting, more every and anything. I feel his reaction against my tight, feel his large package rising to rub against my leg. His hips are already rocking back and forth, his hands lowering to rub my stomach before going lower, much lower. His rocking becomes harsher, more frantic like a dog in heat, in need.

As my hand moves faster and faster over my erection I feel another join it. The mouth moves lower, licking with a board long tongue until it reaches my navel where it stays, flicking in and out. The hand around me becomes firmer then my own, the board palm and thick fingers easily swallowing me in unbearable heat before gently tugging. His other hand has my hip is a vice hold, stopping me from rocking to meet his strokes. The pace quickly becomes faster, hotter and harsher. I can feel how his own erection is getting swollen, his need to come overwhelming him. I’m close now too.

Just as I’m about to get my release I gasp in slight pain as he pinches me at my base, stopping my sweet release. I can’t help but whimper as I feel him twitch as he hides a howl into my stomach. I feel his hot cum hit my shin as he’s bent over, feel it almost burn me. It’s hot, hotter than boiling water almost. If it was in me I’m sure I would be burnt. As if he happy to cover me with his juice he releases my erection and allows me to come, hiding a scream into my bleeding finger.

I’m panting as I open my eyes, my heart racing and a feeling of my leg almost being on fire. As I watch with half lidded eyes someone bangs once more on the door and I turn off the shower, watching the last of my cum go down the drain. Not wanting to waste time jumping into my clothes I pick up my towel, warping it around my waist. I unlock the door to see Sara there, hand rose to knock again.

‘If it wasn’t for those pecs I’d ask if you were actually a girl with how long you take’ she said still sounding half drunk. Not having washed her make-up last night she really is a sight for sore eyes; make-up everywhere, hair still with spray in it sticking up and the stink of ash, cheap beer and sex covering her. I wonder if this is how prostitutes look when they wake up in the morning.

‘Sorry, but it’s that power shower; can’t resist it even if you paid me,’ I reply placing my bundle of clothes under my arm.

‘At least some of us don’t have lesson in forty minutes,’ she said, her gaze going lower then my face. A slight smile appeared on her face as I moved to step around me. As I quickly walked back to my room I felt her eyes follow me, the smile still on her face.

Closing my door I throw my clothes onto my unmade bed, wiping the last of the water from my skin before quickly dressing. Looking at the small clock I’m happy that I got my bag ready the day before. Throwing it over my shoulder I rush outside, knowing I’d be late if I don’t hurry. All lectures are pissed at nine am on a Monday morning.

‘Hey Jesse, wait up,’ Ashton said as he jumped down the metal stairs after me.

‘Hurry up or I’m going to be late; again,’ I tell him tapping my foot by the gate. After he catches up we set a quick pace towards the university, using the short cuts through the alleys. No one notices us, the few school students we pass dragging their feet and most likely moaning about their fate of free education.

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Chapter Three

Lessons never seem to last long, unless you’re hungry. After the first half hour my stomach is ready to tell me what’s what; the burning feels like its eating away my lining and already I can hear the noises of my stomach digesting itself. I keep my head down, refusing to look at anyone as I just know that they can hear it. Keeping my eyes firmly on my notepad I write out whatever it is the lecturer is talking about. My hand moves with a mind of its own, my handwriting for once a graceful lint across the page.

‘…And remember to have finished Jane Eyre for next week. Yes Miss. Stones I said finished,’ the class laughs as we get ready to pack. ‘And remember, assignments are due next week.’

The class groans as one; I bet most forgot all about it, what with the Halloween parties coming up. Picking up my packed bag I follow everyone out. Praying to god that he doesn’t notice me.

‘Mr Andreas please stay behind,’ Mark White said just as I reached the door. Oh god, he called me by my surname. This can’t be good news.

Sighing I move out of the mass and walk back. Sitting on the front row desk we wait for everyone to leave. White keeps silent; I bet he could pass for a statue if he tried. When it comes to English lecturers everyone thinks of roughly one image; old man, white hair, large stomach and wherein a vest suit. Well White has the vest suit down, but forget about everything else.

‘It’s not my business to care about what you do within your spare time. But when your grades run the risk of falling it is my responsibility to step in. All last week you barely attended class and when you did you fell asleep. Why?’

I keep my head turned to look out the window; the clouds are thick and grey. A promise of British autumn. Looking into the glass I see both my reflection and the back of White’s short blond red curls. I swear that almost cherry red cannot be natural. The brown vest and white shirt reminds me of what English men are believed to dress like to most of the world. White wouldn’t look out of place in a Victorian painting.

‘Sorry Mark; I’ve started a new job last Monday. Just need time to adjust to the lack of sleep. I promise I won’t let my marks fall.’ I try and show how sincere I am; making sure to keep eye contract with his deep green eyes set within a handsome face.

‘Where are you working?’ he asks.

‘In River9, the new club off the high street. Above national wage and normally Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. The person I was replacing just stopped coming last weekend and so I had to start early and pull double with everyone. I’m sorry,’ standing before White makes me feel like a small child again. Which is hard because I’m a good half inch taller than his five seven.

‘I am not one of your parents so I will not tell you how to live your life; if you feel you can work a job and keep up with your assignments then I am not one to stop you. However, if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, you know where my office is,’ he picked up his over flowing bag and left the room.

If only I ever saw him before starting this year; if only he wasn’t only twenty nine. No matter where in the world, a relationship with a teacher is always frowned upon, no matter how old you are. Guess they think a university lecturer isn’t above playing favourites.

Leaving the dry air coned building I step out into the courtyard. There’s the taste of rain on the air, a dampness that feels like its seeping into you already. Getting out my mobile I check to see if there are any new messages. A three parter from my younger sister about home, a random advisement about top-ups and one form Ashton; Thank god I had it on silent or White would have verbally torn me a new one.

‘Hey Jesse.’

Looking up I notice Ashton waving from the main building, a half eaten doughnut in one hand and his other hand waving something warped and steaming. Dodging the standing crowd of milling students I make my way over, feeling my stomach trying to eat through.

‘I got breakfast man,’ he says looking smug with himself.

‘Please tell me it’s more filling them what you’re eating.’ I grab the steaming package, feeling the warmth crease my fingers. I can practically smell it.

‘Nope; I got your favourite. One large double beacon sandwich and one large bottle of pressed orange juice.’ With his grin in place he hands them over, taking hold of my arm and pulls me towards the hedge surrounded benches. Finding an empty one we sit down, enjoying our meal and watching people walk by.

‘Did you hand it in?’ I ask fishing for conversation.

‘Yep, my first assignment of the year. Even though it’s only just gone eleven both the library and computer suits are fill. Had to wait in a queue to use a computer to print it off. So not happy with that fact.’ He tries to keep up his pout as he takes a large mouthful of relentless.

‘How can you stand that stuff? Anyway why didn’t you use your own printer?’ I ask as I finish my breakfast.

‘Ran out of ink; anyway I’ve got some great news.’ Getting up to throw away our joint rubbish Ashton comes back fishing something out of his back pocket. ‘You remember saying how you have the next few days off, right?’

‘Yea’ I reply. Ashton says nothing, having gotten the object he started to wave it in my face. A small sheet of card full of a white blur and bright colours.

‘My all time favourite club are doing a Halloween event; girls dressed up in nothing and all drinks for even cheaper. And you, my friend, are coming with me’ he said.

‘I am? Since when?’ I ask.

‘Since you told you’ve only been in a club to work in one. Honesty who expects to spent all time in a pub and then get laid?’ he asked.

‘Hey, just because I don’t need to get laid every other day doesn’t mean I need help,’ I reply knowing my cheeks are red. Please may no one overhear us. As if I’ve spoken Greek to him Ashton’s face goes blank, sculptures showing more emotion and understanding.

‘Hello, earth to Ash?’

Still no answer.

‘Ash, your ex-girlfriends over there.’

Not even a twitch.

‘Dude this is childish.’

The wind picks up, causing him to sway in the stronger breeze. This is ridiculous.

‘Fine I’ll go.’

That causes a reaction. Ashton’s face lights up as if he’s been told Christmas is coming early. With a swagger in his step he moved to once more sit next to be, the people sitting on the other benches watching and giving him weird looks; I doubt he notices them though.

‘Great man; I just know you’ll have fun from the other side of the bar for once.’

‘Don’t you have any lessons to go to?’ I ask around a grunt as he showed his enthusiasm in a one armed hug.

‘Depends, what time is it?’

Fishing out my mobile I flip the screen and glance at the tiny clock in the corner. ‘Half past,’ I tell him.

‘Damn, got White in half an hour and forgot my book. Gotta run back to the flat, talk to you later,’ he replies turning around ready to jog back.

‘Sure catch you later.’ Turning to the other direction I slowly head off into town. Even with him saying anything I just know Ashton wants me to buy a new shirt or something. That guy’s always of the option of need something new to wear whenever you go out clubbing. Maybe he was a girl in a past life?

City centres, no matter what part of the world you’re in, are always known as a meeting ground and breeding ground for independent shops. Every other shop appears to be either a café or fast food place, with big chain shops seemingly taking over while small shoe shops and other places keep popping up every other day. With such a wide verity of shops there’s always large crowds; people of all ages coming and going between the shops even if I’m sure they should be in school. My only problem with it all is simple.

The birds.

They’re everywhere, flying low over people, picking up crap from the ground, shitting everywhere. It’s gross, for every one person I swear that there are two birds. You’d think they’d stay closer to the docks or in the parks but no. Why stay there when they can be in the middle of town, safe from cats and having a ready meal of human rubbish to feed on? Doesn’t help that the old people are always feeding them.

Walking down the high street I look between the different shops, shopping with my eyes before even stepping foot inside. I try my hardest to stay out of people’s way, moving in the direction of the crowd and keeping to a reasonable speed. As the people stop to chat in front of me I quickly dodge around them. For all I like being around people this is beyond practical; don’t British people learn about manners anymore? Not even to say excuse me?

Feeling the first drop of cold moisture on my forehead I’m glad to see the storefront of my current favourite shop. Rushing towards it I’m careful not to push the people in front of me, knowing how annoying it is to be jerked around. Stepping under the sign I watch as I wave of umbrellas appear before me, women with their small colourful ones and men with plain black. Talk about intuition.

The small out of the way shop is nothing too grand. It isn’t a shop full of the latest trends and tiny clothes for women. The logos painted everywhere are for different video games or brands from Japan. The colourful images are stylized and eye catching. I try to make out what the kanji’s say on the walls. Ever since I discovered this shop I’ve fallen in love. With something roughly Chinese playing over the sound system I walk between the shelves.

Ripped, baggy, blue or black jeans hang on both sides of the room. Above waist height are shoes and trainers in all kinds of colours. Free standing displays hold tops and shirts of all kind; form plain coloured Tees, to Tees advertising different animes and games, shirts are neatly folded covered in trendy faded Asian text.

‘Can I help you?’ the shop assistant is a smartly dressed Asian women, her black hair shot through with sliver.

‘Just looking’ I reply. One of the shelf’s catches my eye, the sign above it proclaiming Team Giblets. Their tees come in fewer colours, but the designs easily catch attention. Picking up a black one I unfold it to get a better idea. As I look it over I can’t help but laugh. The top’s logo proudly tells you to ‘cure emo,’ I wondered where people got those tops from.

‘You like? We have more different colour,’ she tells me picking up a red one.

‘I’ll stick to the black one thanks,’ I smile and walk over to the jean picking one up at random before paying. Just I hand over the cash I wonder what else I can wear with this. Ashton will moan if I don’t try and dress up. To look like I haven’t just put any old thing on.

‘Have good day,’ the casher said, another Asian girl who strong resemblance to the older women. Maybe this place is family run?

Placing the paper bag into my battered carryall I step out into the rain, pulling the jacket collar up. The rain is still just a light drizzle, nothing to really moan about if you ask me and already I can see people huddling under whatever cover they can find. Sucks to be them if they think this is bad.

Walking through the rain is always a fun experience, watching people running to try and stay dry or people like me who just expect that we’re all going to get wet. The pavement slowly grows slicker as I walk, the rain soaking me to slowly that I don’t notice it. My jeans are hugging the muscles of my leg, the only dry part is the curve of my arse. Water flows down the back of my neck and into my white top, the blue shirt I wear over it still dry expect for a small part at the bottom. Trying my hardest not to kick the puddles I wait at one of the many bus stops and fish out some money. I hope my new clothes stay dry.

The bus as always is taking ages to arrive, the rain now hitting the tin roof of the bus stop as more and more people try to crowd under it. The heat of so many tightly squashed bodies feels like it’s drying my top and with less rain hitting it my jacket simply lets the water runoff. But I can feel my jeans as they sap water from the ground.

‘Stupid weather,’ someone to my right says.

‘And then she said he started it,’ an older woman says.

‘Mum, mum, mum, mummy,’ a small child repeats.

Hidden in the corner a baby starts to cry. Everyone talks quietly not to heard but its impossible not to over hear what’s being said.

‘Have you heard about the new post strikes?’

‘Really, in this day and age.’

‘Should be on time for once.’

As I listened in on many of the different conversations going on around me I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching me. A feeling of eyes following my every movement. It’s nerve-racking. I try to look around, to find whoever it is, but with only enough space to move my head I have no luck. People around me start to stop talking, a silence slowly taking over the crowd; I have no idea what caused it but everyone’s now moving, shuffling this way and that. Like pigs in a slather house. The tense is growing between us even the crying baby is now dead silent. A wave of cold sweat breaks out over me.

In the rain the temperature is lower, my breathe a fine white mist in the growing darkness. Why is it so dark already? The orange street lights are already flickering on, passing cars turning on their headlights. I try to look up at the sky, to see above the rooftops but it’s impossible; what the tin bus stop doesn’t block the tall buildings do. With their top floor lights off its had to tell where the sky begins.

As a faint touch of panic starts to take control the bus pulls up, it’s red frame and blinding lights a beacon of hope to us. Everyone rushes towards it as once, people pushing and shoving to be the first to get on. The driver looks confused. I can’t help but wonder what sort of expression everyone’s holding; panic, fear, relief? No wonder he seems confused, did doesn’t take a degree to know that it’s not the unusually heavy rain that’s disturbing us all.

As a queue starts to form in the door frame the driver quickly issues tickets, taking money and pressing buttons unbelievably fast. As people move to sit down the sense of something dangerous grows. More people try to force their way on. Feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand on end I slowly turn my head to look around. I don’t know what I’m expecting to rush at me, but I can’t help but feel fear of something.

Here’s no one behind me. Not one person rushing down the street through the rain. The shop fronts seem miles away and not mere feet. The whole high street is lost in the rainy darkness. Something about the whole thing is creepy and I don’t want to be here. If life was a horror film this is when I’d expect the monster to appear and attack.

‘Hey kid, you getting on’ the driver looks between the fill bus and the sense of unease clear on everyone’s faces. The driver looks harassed.

‘Yes please,’ I quickly step into the buss handing my money over with quivering hands. He hands me my ticket and I move to stand behind his booth. Every sit is full some even able to squish three people on them. As I turn to look outside I feel every hair on my body stand up, everyone else doing the same.

There outside, standing in the darkness above the bus stop are three glowing amber eyes.

The tin is dented from their weight, a clear dip and the tin looks ready to give under them.

Someone gasps loudly. Thank god I’m not the only one to see them. What type of animal are they?

The driver quickly pulls away, the tires screaming on the wet tarmac. Slowly the eyes rise higher before leaping down onto the pavement. Everyone’s watching now, their eyes trained onto the dark shadows behind us. An old woman faints onto the floor, someone’s body stopping her creaking open her head.

The eyes are following us, running after us.

Running at the same speed at the bus. No animal runs that fast, not any animal you get in England. What are they?

‘Maybe someone should call the RSPCA?’ a young man asks shaking in the seat next to me.

As we watch the eyes suddenly disappear into darkness; disappeared as if they were never there. The bus is silent, everyone wondering what the hell just happened. Everyone’s expecting something to happen, anything; be it the bus being overturned or something that fits into a Hollywood film. I count down the stops until I get home, my nails digging into my palms.

---

Chapter four

I pass the hours between getting home and getting ready for tonight in a haze of trying to read Jane Eyre; a hard read even on the best of days. The kitchen is empty, everyone either still in lesson or out; shopping most likely. Even with the sound of the pub open below me I can’t shake the feeling of something not being right. Glowing eyes still watching me and an encasing darkness. I jump for no reason, huddled under my thick covers with my window closed, curtains drawn and laptop beating out albums like never before. I’m surprised that no one’s come up to tell me to turn it down.

With all my lights on I still can’t remove the feeling of being watched, of danger. I stare down at the words printed on thin paper. None of it registers, how paragraphs disappearing in a lined black blur. No matter how much layers I put on or cower under I can’t get rid of the chill settling over my skin. Close to throwing the book away I put it down on the table, standing to stretch the muscles on my back.

The burn of hunger in my stomach motivates me into leaving my stuffy room. Compared to the closed warm air the hallway and kitchen are unbelievably cold, the tiles like ice under my feet. Walking over the fridge I try to hunt out some food. Maybe I should go shopping soon? Food shopping that is. Bottles of alcohol take over the fridge door shelf and bottom shelf; a half eaten block of cheese sits before of pack of open grapes; jam is pushed to the back in the middle and an unopened pack of bacon sits on the top.

It’s not hard to tell that students live here.

The freezer isn’t much different and in the end I settle for some of the pasta in one of the cupboards; I think it might be Ashton’s because of the jar of sauce next to it. I’m sure he won’t mind if I pay him back with a few rounds.

‘Hey Jesse man; you here?’ speak of the devil and he will appear.

‘Over here Ash,’ I reply.

‘What’s cooking?’

‘Lunch,’ I reply draining the pot to place the sauce in.

‘Don’t you mean dinner?’ the thud of his bag hitting the chair reminds me that his lesson’s finish at five on Mondays.

‘Touché.’

‘Can I have some?’ Ashton asks standing behind me, looking over my shoulder.

‘You mean it’s not yours?’ I ask in reply stirring the tomato and pasta together.

‘Nope not mine; I don’t the curly pasta, always go for the long one.’ The cold tap turns as he pours two glasses; one for him and one for me. I wait to see if he’ll mention anything about strange things happening; large dogs, sudden heavy rainfall, or just one of the girls farting in lesson.

‘Good day?’ I ask.

‘Boring as hell; nothing of any remote interesting since I left you this raining morning. Still up for tonight?’ he asks as I place a plate before him.

‘Sure thing, I’ll let you have your way with me tonight.’ The meal I’ve cooked is simple and fast; it easily goes down with a chilled beer. It’s never too easily to start a night of drinking. Like always we fall into easy conversation.

‘So they doing each other yet?’ I ask putting my feet up on another chair, a fresh beer put into my hands.

‘Something’s doing her,’ Ashton replies as we watch other housemates come and go. No one cares about the growing pile of beer bottles and dishes stacking up. As long as we keep the alcohol supply fill they don’t mind; properly with the good stuff and not the cheap you get in big offers from the supermarket. Most of us will take a good bottle of paint stripper over the cheap Irish cat piss.

Lifting a bottle we wave as the girls leave for another party night, their faces painted to look like zombies; grey skin and lots of red. They bought cheap clothes and ripped them apart with a pair of scissors.

‘Hey Silo, you’re supposed to dress up for Halloween,’ says Ashton. Sarat turns to throw a look of pure malevolence at him.

‘And here I thought you were only stupid when sober; and it’s Sarat dick.’ The girls laugh as she stomps out, the door slamming behind her before they rush to catch up with her.

‘Wow they left early,’ I between mouthfuls. The small bottle of red wine is starting to look tempting as the beer runs out.

‘Get there early don’t have to pay to get in; drinks cheaper as well and get the best seats.’ Ashton finishes the last of his bottle in three clear mouthfuls. ‘Come better hurry up and get ready, don’t want to pay full price to get in tonight.’

With a cocky grin I get up to follow him, only staggering into my room unlocked room. The rooms not yet at the point where’s its spinning. The feeling of joy and happiness is buzzing through my veins as I slowly change into my new clothes, forgoing brushing my hair and just wiping my face of any remaining sauce; when drunk I can get sauce anywhere, even if I’m not the one who needs it.

Ashton and I step out of the house together, the buzz still strong in us as we lock the door and check we have our id’s. within a five minute walk is about over twenty different clubs, from stripper ones to an 80’s club. Between each one is a small pub, normally each one fill before people head into the clubs after ten, that’s when the parties really pick up everywhere. Walking the road we sway to the beats escaping each building pointing out each club where we might find some fun. But Ashton is insistent we go to a certain one; something about a special party and meeting someone.

It’s never a good idea to trust the people Ashton likes to hang out with; druggies and dealers, even though he’s admitted to me countless times he’s never used. Said he likes the sense of danger hanging around them. Can’t say I blame him as well.

The club Ashton drags me too is a seemingly small building tucked away from the main stream, but already there’s a line forming to get in. I’ve heard about this place. Somewhere bikers like to go, Goth looking people as well, all dressed in black with hundreds of tattoo’s covering their bodies. Although there doesn’t seem to be too many of those tonight; countless chavs are groaning in line waiting their turn.

‘We’ll never get in with a queue like that,’ I say out loud.

‘Yes we will,’ Ashton replies grabbing my hand to pull me towards the front of the queue. Already he was our id out, proudly showing it to the bouncers. Tall and made from brick walls with shaved heads they look the perfect part in a gangster film. Everything about them scream ‘bouncer’ in every form of the word; Ashton must be crazy to think this’ll work with them. Does he want us to get our arses handed to us?

‘Hey you can’t do that!’

‘Quite cutting dicks.’

‘Arseholes.’

The queue happily shouts out their complaints as the bouncers closely look over our id. I can’t help but twitch under their condescending stare, the sensation form this afternoon coming back to haunt me. Five minutes pass and still their looking over our id’s carefully. Why haven’t they kicked us away yet? Slowly the larger of the two nods his bald head, his partner moving to open the closed door.

‘The boss wants a word of business with you, leave your friend by the bar,’ the sound of his rough voice is shockingly deep, far deeper then what I would expect from a human.

‘Thanks man no problem,’ Ashton smiles, taking back our id and leading me in. What the hell?

‘You’re in some seep shit Ashton,’ the second bounce replies to our backs. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone call Ashton by his name without him flipping out.

‘What’s the hell that all about Ash?’ I ask as we step in, the sound of loud amps vibrating through the floor and into my bones. Already the club looks fill of dancing young people. Even without looking around I can see how this place is mostly taken up by students and first years still enjoying their complete freedom.

‘Don’t worry about Jesse my man,’ Ashton replies leading me though the dance floor to the bar. The barman notices his appearance and nods his head. Clearly Ashton’s known here; weather that’s a good thing or not is yet to be decided. Without Ashton saying a word the barman opens to strong beers and some shots, walking over to us and placing them before us. Whoever he was tending to before says nothing at the sudden interruption.

‘One beer for you and one shot; drink up Jesse,’ Ashton says chunking his back without a word. I wait for the look of fire to appear as it burns down his throat. I can smell the alcohol drifting off it. It doesn’t appear.

‘Bottoms up,’ I reply taking my own mouthful. It’s foul, the liquid thick and burning down the back of my throat, like chough mixture light on fire. How can people have repeated shots of that stuff?

‘You like?’ Ashton mouths over the music. Watching his eyes I can see how his looking around, searching for something in the thick crowd. As I nod my head I see how his eyes lock onto something. Turning my head I try to follow his line of sight, finding myself looking up at the third floor balcony I see as someone moves into the thick shadows up there.

‘I’m fine,’ I reply over the sound of the loud techno music.

‘Hey, I have to go someone quickly, wait for me here okay,’ Aston doesn’t give me a chance to answer as he rushes off into the crowded dance floor. I try and follow him with my eyes but it quickly becomes impossible. The throbbing strobe lights make the shadows darker and I can’t help but feel abandoned in the crowded room.

‘Okay…’ I say to myself looking around. The sound of music is deafening; how can people dance so easily when they can’t hear the beat? Only feel it through their bones and the floor. Sipping the last of my drink I place it back on the bar, slowly slipping around the dance floor and watching everyone enjoy themselves.

‘First time here?’

I quickly turn around. A voice that I’ve never heard before was whispered into my ear. But as I turn around there’s no one there. I wonder if I’m going insane or just imaging things. Today’s been nothing but hectic, maybe all I need is a good night’s rest for once, maybe cut back on the beer.

Turning back to the bar I wonder if I should wait for Ashton to come back, or if it’ll be impolite to just walk off. It’s not like I have to worry about being raped; only girls have to worry about wondering the city streets alone at night. As I step towards the mass of hot bodies waiting for their drinks I jump and nearly let out a shriek.

I’ve just been goosed.

In a club.

‘It’s rude not to answer,’ the voice says once again in my ear. I stay still as the hand stills on my arse, the wide palms covering most of it.

‘What did you ask?’ I ask feeling the body step closer to my back. I’ve heard about people meeting up in the clubs, but sure stuff like that only happens in books.

‘I asked if this was your first time here.’

‘Yes,’ I answer straight away bowing my head as I feel the hands begin to wonder. Straight forward or what?

‘You don’t belong here’ he said into my ear.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask looking around. Here the hell did Ashton go?

The stranger doesn’t say anything in reply, his hands sitting on my hip as he sways our bodies to the beat. I can’t help the tension stiffening up my back, making my movements unnatural. The stranger doesn’t seem to care, his large hands relaxed and lose on me. No one pays any attention to us, nearly slowly dancing in a shadowed corner away from the lights.

‘Who are you?’ I ask unable to stop thinking about how close his is to me. I can feel the muscles on his chest as he rest against me.

‘Forgive my lack of manners,’ he says. He pulls me closer, his hands wondering over my front. I’ve heard about being friendly on first dates, but surely you know the person’s name before molesting them.

‘Well?’

‘What does it matter what you call out as I make you come?’ he asks.

As his hands run over my stomach I move into him unable to form a thought. My body relaxes as he massages my navel. I can feel his breath in my ear, over my neck as I tilted it to the side, exposing the tender skin. I’m able to feel a rumble deep in his chest and his face to lower to my neck. Lips meet skin and I moan as he kisses my neck; soft kisses, barely there, a feather touch. Something about this act is feral to me; maybe I should have more one night stands if they’re like this.

‘You smell so, nice’ he says against my neck. Our bodies are now rocking as one to the techno beat echoing through the floor. The darkness surrounds us; my eyes are nearly closed as I watch the other people moving in front of us. All around us hips are rocking, arms embracing faces closing together, lips meeting skin. The throbbing lights and swaying floor create a feeling, something erotic and different.

As we sway I feel his hands move again, one reaching up to stroke my chest through my top, the other slipping around under my open shirt, rubbing over the seam of my jeans between my cheeks. I feel something long and hard rest against the back of my thigh. It takes a while for me to register what it is. His erection; long, hard muscle, burning the skin under my jeans. A part of me longs to see it, to feel it in my hands, to stroke it as he’s stroke my arse.

“Who are you?’ I ask closing my eyes. I can feel my body reacting to his touch, my own erection wanting to escape the confides of my own very tight jeans. His hand rubs against my pebbled nipples, flicking them through the thin fabric, harshly rubbing them as I arch against him. It’s a sweet torture. His other slips around to cup my length.

‘It doesn’t matter, tell me your name.’

Somehow I hear his soft whisper over the music. I feel eyes watching me from somewhere. As I hair on my neck stands up I feel his hand tighten over my erection. I gasp, flinging out my eyes. No one’s noticed us, everyone too focused on their own partner and mimicking the act.

But still I feel eyes on us.

Looking around I see nothing out of order, not even the bouncers have noticed us, the bartender busy pouring drinks. Something in me makes me look up as I feel his head lift from licking my neck. I try to look into the shadows, only just able to make out the third floor balcony and someone’s shadow as they look down. At us. My stranger lets a sound that makes me think of angry dogs, his arms tense around me, his hands now pushing me against him, his own body now harshly rocking against me like a dog in heat.

‘Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere more, private,’ my stranger says back into my ear. I can feel his head still lifted, still staring up.

I turn my head to try and look at him, to see what he looks like. All my eyes can see is a strong chin, pale skin, thin lips and a long neck. As his body ease off I can’t help but like he’s just rubbed his scent into my skin, marking me, scent me like a possessive animal would their mate.

For the first time I feel uneasy as he pulls my arms, pulling me backwards.

‘Jesse,’ a voice calls.

Turning my head I see Ashton, running down the metal stairs from the third floor. I move to meet him before being pulled back.

‘Come with me, please,’ the stranger almost begs. I watch as Ashton looks around, most likely searching for me by the bar. I try and call him but all that’s escapes me is a moan as my stranger sucks on my neck, his hands gently stroking my wrists.

‘Please come with me.’

There’s nothing I can say in return. As he gently tugs me I follow like a loyal puppy, wanting to feel more of him behind me. As I close my eyes I see Ashton look my way, a dark look covering his face. Before long we’re standing outside, having escaped through the back door and now standing in the empty dirty alleyway. After being surrounded by the heat of hundreds of hot bodies outside is freezing, the wind full of promise of the winter slowly coming. As he pulls me towards him I feel the heat still inside his body, a furnace ready to burn me.

As we reach the wall I moan as he once more nips and sucks at my neck, moving to my collarbone to lavish it wish attention. The cold air makes my skin prickle and my nibbles to arch even more, the fire in my groin even more intense. Lean back I feel his arms lower to rest over my arse, his palms spread to hold one cheek in each. Wrapping my arms around his neck I press into his face, moving a hand to keep him there. With an impressive show of strength he picks me up, instinct moving me to place my legs around his hips, locking my ankles at the small of his back. Like this our erections are touching through our trousers; hot and burning together. It’s still impossible to tell just how big he is.

As I move against him, rubbing myself all over him I feel his lips move, never once breaking skin as his christens me with teeth marks and bruises.

‘More,’ I ask feeling the cold air crease the skin visible through my ripped jeans, a large hand moving to stroke bare skin as he pushes my top up, the cold fabric of my blue shirt like ice against my heated back.

‘Please.’

Another nip, another kiss, a thrust of his hips. It’s never enough.

‘More,’ I say into his ear.

With a sound akin to a growl he turns around, pushing my back against the freezing brick of the night club. A small thought passes through my mind; will I really go all the way here? In a dirty alley in public?

‘Need you’ he says into my cheek, raining more kisses there, over my nose, over eye lids, into my ears. Never onto my lips, the one place he doesn’t go anyway near. I want to taste, to tease him and show him what I can do. I don’t have the chance as I bites my ear, one hand letting go to pry open my jeans flies.

‘Please tell me your name,’ I ask as he loses his patience with my jeans, ripping the button lose and pulling the zipper. My erection springs free, curling up to rest against my bare stomach. The freedom is ecstasy, the head becoming even more swollen and red. I don’t bother to hide my moan of relief as the cold air creases me. It’s heaven after the torture of my stranger.

‘Smell so nice,’ he says wrapping his hand around me. With a slow steady pace he starts to stroke me, quickly creating a pace I wouldn’t dream of disturbing. Ever. As his hand reaches my head his thumb wipes away the cum gathered, quickly using it to trail back down my erection. The cooling liquid covering my burning length is unbelievably erotic.

I can’t help but wonder where he learned all those tricks of his.

I can’t help but groan is dismay as he places me feet back on the ground; even if he does keep the pace on my cock. Moving into his hand I gasp as I feel my jeans ripped off me, pooling in a puddle grease and dirt. His hand leaves its place of holding my head back to tear top off, leaving my shirt to pool in the crocks of my bent elbows. My skin shivers in the cold surround me, the rough brick irritating my back. Feeling completely naked under his burning gaze I go to open my eyes, just to get my first look at my stranger.

‘Don’t open; I want you to stay like this as I take you.’

Something about that sounds very ominous to me.