Sunday, 23 December 2012

Waste of a Banana Fritter

We’re all starving like fuck and a few doors down from Susan’s house is a takeaway – Cantonese and Peking Cuisine – and we go in there and after a great deal of pissed up fucking about arguing, we go and finally get loads of dishes that we’re going to share with her boyfriend Bob. As I’ve taken control I do the ordering and shout up: Beef Chop Suey, Stir Fried Chicken with Baby Corn, Sweet and Sour King Prawn Balls, Lemon Chicken – I fucking love Lemon Chicken – Fried Mixed Veggies, Pancake Rolls and two portions of Special Fried Rice. It worked out about eleven quid each not including how post-order Christine decided she wanted a Banana Fritter which I ordered and paid out of my own money and this also added time to our exit as they did what needed doing to cook a fucking Banana Fritter. But who fucking cares. The green light to paradise was still shining down on me and Christine. We were gonna have some tonight. I was definitely a starving horse about to be fed his oats. We went to Susan’s house and I was immediately introduced to Bob and I tried to do the decent thing in a strangers house by trying to act all together as well as convince the bloke that I hadn’t been shagging his bird all afternoon. He shook my hand and seemed genuinely friendly enough even though most small blokes who wear glasses usually are. I mean, by their very presence they’re hardly equipped to go about their lives at war with us lot. Most sensible small blokes all know that they just have to except their placing in the general scheme of things and get on with it. Handle the piss takes if and when it happens to be dished out in their direction and don’t get all self important and try and make a name for yourself. It never ever works out in their favour when they try to be Bruce Willis when they’ve had a few jars of courage. Bob’s sort will always lose out. It’s the law of the jungle. So with that said, I didn’t really have a problem telling him whereabouts I lived. I might look like I’m from the Castle Island but I’m not and I think it probably relaxed him knowing that. Made him think that I’m not a nutter.
Bob ate more than any of us, although I didn’t do too bad. What fucked me off was that Christine had made a right big fuss about getting a Banana Fritter after we’d already ordered and had to wait an extra five minutes for her and now as we’re sitting here all finished, I notice that she’s only taken one mouse sized bite out of it, the very same Banana Fritter that’s slumped on the hard shoulder against the piled up mountain which happens to be the rest of the food she’s also failed to touch. What a fucking waste. I could have got the right hump. But fuck it. Fact is, I have big plans. I need to stay cool here.
We go to watch some old DVD which Bob tells me is his all time favourite film. It was Shallow Grave. I’ve seen it before and it was okay, but no way would you call it brilliant though as the flatmates in it were all cunts and deserved to die. I fell asleep soon into the film and when I awoke it had finished and little four-eyed Bob and sexy Susan are dishing out the polite goodnights as they take out the plates and then Susan came back with some bedding and we’re all rather foolishly saying goodnight again and then in a sort of embarrassed silence me and Christine Dean, while avoiding eye contact, make up a bed on the floor using the cushions from the sofa and the two armchairs as a mattress. The door’s partially open, letting in some light from the hallway, and I’m hoping that Bob and Susan won’t have a problem leaving it on for a while as I like to see what I’m doing. As most birds who know me and have been there will tell you.

We’re still not speaking or acknowledging each other as we undress and then as soon as we get under the quilt cover and our knees touch it instantly becomes the signal for me to start and I reckon it was under two minutes when I had Christine Dean pushed up on all fours arse high and I was in there licking and fingering her in both holes. I was frantic. It was great. She was responding well and I soon had my cock up her. It was total no nonsense. Mad and barmy. So fucking brilliant as I try to truly appreciate this moment as here I am banging into her. I’m pulling her shoulders back and battering her in and out as fast as I can go but it seems that all the beer consumed during what has been a brilliant day is now numbing all sensation and it’s not helping me achieve my ultimate goal. I have to think quickly on my knees and so I pull out my cock and stick two fingers up her and now that I’m lubricated by her juices I’m onto opening up her arse again and seeing that there’s still no vocal opposition, I quickly seize on the moment and stick my long fat cock up there and it feels so much better, it really does, and now I’m possessed and I’m banging into her so hard, so fast, and I’m totally oblivious to her surrendered shape as I just keep looking down, concentrating hard on the visible portion of the rod of my cock going in and out of her arse all mechanically like a piston from George Stephenson’s Rocket or something and I think I can hear her acknowledge my good work, the work of my rocket, my best endeavour in pissed up circumstances and I go and try raise the game further, speed up the ride, I’m now slapping her tiny tight arse cheeks as this 7-4 favourite continues to slut it on home full of the thrust and speed of her brilliant rider – the dirty cow’s fucking loving it more than I am –  and I’m well clear of the chasing pack and I’m in such good health here despite all the beer consumed during what has been a brilliant day and the dark thoughts that now make themselves known to me as I continue on with the job are dealt with as I’m on such a rush that this is at long last really happening for me again, I am back, Jim Best, well and truly back on the saddle, and on and on I continue to push myself faster and further than I’ve ever been before and I’m knackered but getting faster all the time and I try not to get hypnotised by the speed of my cock sorting out this tidy anal slut and on we go and I’m wondering how long I can keep this up for but I’m wanting a finish now cos I’m feeling knackered so to add to the thrill I’m now knocking off a few years off of her, turning her into a sweet fifteen year old school slut who has crept downstairs and let me in through the back door with ma and pa oblivious to what I’m doing to their loving innocent daughter who just loves it shoved right up her, always keenly begs for it up the arse and this drives me to new magnificent heights and I want to shout out and let the world know how good this all is, but I’m in Bob’s house and you can’t do that sort of thing cos he’s got a kid up there and anyway there’s no way I can have him getting images, having a sneaky wank to our dirty noises all carefully so Susan doesn’t know what he’s really doing over on his side of the bed, so I copy Christine and keep my volume on mute and instead I home in on the beautiful sight of the receiver and then incredibly I realise that I haven’t even got her tits out yet, so I waste no time and push her T-shirt aggressively up to her shoulders which she plays up on and tries to resist while I continue to pump into her and then I keep the game going and reach under and rip her small tits out from her tight bra and I have a small grab with my left hand while the right sees to clutching a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back so that I can work my way up there another inch or so as she jerks back grunting away and I reckon I really could just go on like this all night if I really wanted to and I’m just keeping my concentration going working myself up for big explosion and then incredibly, from out of nowhere, I’m registering some negative resistance going on here and it’s not in the script either and therefore it ain’t going down well and it all gets worse cos the fucking bitch is actually right at this very moment telling me to stop, and I lose my way, confused, as I’m dropped from such a great height, confused until the emotion is replaced by complete outrage as I can now see clearly that there’s stewards on the track waving red flags and trying to fucking well call off the race as I’m about to cross the finishing line and she really is telling me to stop, this is no joke, JIM, ARGGH, STOP! ARGGH, STOP! PLEASE JIMMEE. ARGGH, STOP! PLEE EASE! ARGGH, NO. NO JIM. JIM, JIMMEE! NO! PLEASE JAMES STOP! and having hit the alarm name, calling me James, I appreciate in how this is seriously mad, not nice, and she’s now uttering her pleases in some honourable controlled half muted way as if she’s now trying not to bring this apparent out of the blue disaster what’s going on here to the attention of those above us and I look up from what was once the gifted magic of sex and now I can see and hear that she’s crying, pure concentrated devastation, and I just want to continue, finish the race, the job, bury my rich seed up her arse, but she’s really fucking going mental here, sobbing badly, and I go and pull up abruptly and before I know what to do next I go humiliatingly soft and as I do I fall off the saddle.
          At exactly the same time I impact the floor, the hall light sinisterly goes out and now we’re both in total darkness and initially I’m happy because Christine can’t see my face and then I’m wondering if Bob and Susan really have heard any of this and I’m laying on my back and I know that Christine has moved well away from me and she then goes and confirms this as she pulls almost the whole of the quilt her way and for the first time in my life I genuinely feel like I’ve just committed rape.
          Naked and lying on my back in the dark and with the broken whimpering to my left continuing to haunt me, it really does feel so horrific.

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