Straight punks in group fuck and suck in high def

Straight punks in group fuck and suck in high def
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PART I The old woman glanced up from her book to see the kindly gent from two doors down take his evening constitutional. For over a year now, without fail, she had watched him leave his house and struggle up the incline bearing greater weight on his stick with each day. In a passing conversation she wondered why he felt the need to go out as dusk fell and his strength waned, but his reply was merely a stubborn need to leave the house.

She sighed and returned her gaze to her book giving no further thought to the gents impending disappearance. His path took him up the hill and into the seedier side of town. Here live the ne'er-do-wells and down and outs, the drug pushers and pimps.

Discount shops, one man betting shops and cash converters lined the streets while kids played in streets lined with broken lights and abandoned cars in which teenagers fucked after dark. The man hobbled past the buzzing streetlight he associated with entering these slums and decided tonight to venture into the alley behind the run down shops. The smell from the bins infused the air with sour pungency and glass crunched underfoot.

Out of sight of the public he was able to walk properly, the necessity of faking his decrepit state less important. He was still old he told himself and had to be careful not to fall or annoy any thugs, but he now used his stick to prod at heaps of tattered rugs and piles of cardboard that the homeless used to keep warm, once or twice eliciting a moan or angry curse.

He passed overflowing industrial bins and piles of rubbish strewn across the alley, left there by the desperate searching for something to eat.

A distant part of his mind felt for these bums as the cold night closed in and his breath turned to white puffs, but he was too old to pay much attention or even do something about them. In his vast experience they had usually done it to themselves and besides, they had their uses. And he hoped the one he saw a few nights ago was still here. A light went out ahead as a shop owner left for the night.

He paused to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the darker alley then pushed on. Finally he came to the place; a recess on the right behind a money exchange, its high security bars announcing the potential treasure trove within.

The recess seemed to be an old garage from which the door had been ripped off and then half the space bricked up. He cared not what was behind the brick, only what was under the heap of rags in the dark far corner. Using his stick to push aside a tatty red and green rug he exposed the dirty face of a young man. 'Perfect.' He hadn't woken the homeless boy and after checking he was still breathing, and to protect his investment, he stooped and replaced the rug.

'Don't want him to get frostbite anywhere.' The man remained in place for a few moments, imagining what he would do with his gain. A smile creased the corners of his mouth and drew his wrinkled skin into tighter lines.

This was the one. Re-affecting his aging state the man hobbled from the alley and returned home. The woman at number 76 had long since turned in for the night. * * * His dad was beating him again, this time with his thick leather belt. No matter how much he cried and screamed his dad, a big man with the strength of a bear, held him down and whipped at his bare ass.

His mum was made to watch but she didn't cry. He always got the impression that she rather enjoyed it. Certainly his dad never hit her and she would fuck him tonight as though nothing had happened.

The ordeal ended and he was pushed off his dads lap. He fell with a thud to the floor and winded himself. He dad left him there and both he and his mum left the room. He snivelled for a bit, imagining what might happen should a neighbour come in to find a twelve year old boy on the floor with his shorts around his ankles and a red, possibly bloody ass. Finally deciding no such luck was about to occur he stood, gingerly pulled his shorts and underwear up, and made for the kitchen cupboard where the creams and ointments were kept.

His mum had shown him that at least. He took care of himself and went to hide in the woods behind the house. Finding his private space, a clearing in the middle of several thick tree trunks and surrounded by sharp holly boshes, he took off his shirt and sat leaning back on his hands, allowing the sun filtering through the trees to warm his skin. He hated his dad but if he was totally honest with himself, Nathan knew he deserved the belt.

He had after all beaten that kids' face bloody. He smiled. The stupid little cunt deserved it after telling everyone at school that he liked other boys. Boys were disgusting. Girls however, girls were something really nice. He'd started to become aware of them halfway through his eleventh year, an early started according to his grandad, and had already moved onto internet porn.

Those girls were hot and he couldn't wait to stop playing with himself and have one of those. There were a couple in the year above him at school he wanted and took every opportunity to look at their tits and try to see up their skirts.

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He enjoyed thinking about them for a bit and getting himself hard before his sore ass reasserted its dominance and he left for home. * * * The old man set about his final tasks with renewed vigour, excited at the prospect of new adventures and especially changing his life. He had many fantasies he'd built up and the time was ripe for fulfilling them. He had a lot to accomplish today in preparation for the transition and he wanted to waste no time so when the old woman attempted to engage him in conversation he ignored her and ambled by.

He didn't care for her nosy conversation nor whether he caused her consternation. He barely stopped himself telling her to fuck off. He first visited the train station a left a heavy looking bag in a locker. This was a good walk from where he lived and between the slums and the high street.

Then a long walk further into the city brought past a pharmacy, where he stopped briefly, and to a decent hotel on a main road opposite a couple of upmarket restaurants and a pub. He'd chosen this one specifically for its location to other amenities just a few minutes' walk away. He almost drooled at the thought of what was coming and entered the hotel. His business complete he left the hotel and started his long journey back to his house, stopping in a market for supplies.

Once home he accessed his computer and began his final preparations. * * * Nathan was in jail on his fifteenth birthday and for once it was not for something he did, although the police just assumed it was him.

He had been set up and he snorted at the thought. Set up because he was fucking the sister of someone who hated him. The fucker had gone and mugged an old woman and left Nathans mobile phone at the scene, taken from the girls room while they were out having sex in the woods. Can't fuck at home after all, the parents would never allow it. So the police had assumed he had mugged this woman and the old lady couldn't remember morning from night, so he'd been dragged into jail.

His dad was called but didn't even bother to come in. He'd told the police to do what they wanted with the little prick. 'Thanks a fucking bunch dad.' So he had time to think and remember, remember and think. Think about the first girl he had kissed in a pub car park after school. The first girl he had fingered in the park on a Thursday night. Coming too soon in the first girl he fucked but making up for it minutes later by making her scream in ecstasy.

From that point on he had quickly gained a reputation and girls flocked to see if it was true. He'd used them all. Nailing them a few times before moving onto the next prettier, sexier, fitter, dirtier one that came along like the current one that was nothing but a very willing cunt. If he had to admit it a couple of them were probably fucked against their will having had second thoughts once he was inside them, but hey, that was too late then wasn't it.

He also had time to think about his mum and dad. They seemed a good sort but from age nine he had been difficult to handle and his dad, having exhausted other avenues of punishment, resorted to whippings. It's hadn't done any good and served only to make Nathan hate his dad.

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Perhaps hate was too strong, but he didn't much care for him. Indifference was also the overriding feeling for his mother. It was only his sister he loved, and now he realised it was probably because she had tits and he wanted to see them. Before falling asleep his thoughts turned even darker; how he would exact revenge on the brother who set him up.

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* * * His final task on the computer was set in motion and within an hour his hard disk had been securely wiped. Nothing would be retrieved from it. Now he wanted to enjoy his last meal; an expensive piece of filet steak purchased from the market, along with some baby carrots, new potatoes and a glass of Rioja. 'Just a glass', he reminded himself. He wasn't going to jeopardise tonight. * * * A cloudy moonless night gave Nathan the perfect cover and he remained unseen in the thick foliage along the path leading to and from town.

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Several people wandered passed oblivious to his presence and he enjoyed the voyeuristic opportunity, particularly when a young woman and her boyfriend sauntered past discussing intimate details. An empty path allowed him to shift position and he settled once more to wait.

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Despite his innocence he was convicted of the mugging and had spent seventeen months in a young offender's institute. His time was spent defending himself from bullying and outright attacks. Several other boys decided to spread a rumour of his secret homosexuality and this led to older boys attempting to rape him in the showers. He fought off each one with unhindered violence, letting all his anger take over until he was physically exhausted or restrained.

The third time he broke the attacker's pelvis and cracked his skull. No one ever started a fight with Nathan again but the false rumours persisted. He lived a solitary life with no friends and few acquaintances. His family came to see him initially but the visits decreased in number while the gap between them increased. Eventually only his sister, Janet, ever kept in contact, preferring to write.

The loneliness inside drove him to finally declare his yearning for her, and his wish that they could make love every day. He'd taken a big risk as that letter could have been seen by anyone, but no one wrote back to tell him how disgusting he was and to his surprise Janet continued to write.

She mentioned his declaration only once, in her immediate reply, by telling him she loved him too, and how difficult it must be inside, 'enough to make you think odd thoughts.' He didn't cry but felt empty. He'd dreamed of her that night, naked beneath him, their sweaty naked bodies writhing in ecstasy while he penetrated her and she begged him for more. Now Nathan was out. His family had forbidden him to come home and he wound up in a hostel run by a religious charity, thankfully not an evangelical one.

For his accommodation and food he had to carry out tasks for them such as cleaning, fixing, spreading the Lords word. Anything they wanted basically. He took on the Lords word more and more but only as a cover; he was following the boy who set him up, learning his routine. That shit was going to pay. Now, nearly two years after he had been put away, Nathan watched the fucker walking towards him, oblivious to his surroundings and his fate.

* * * The old lady was astonished to see the gent striding powerfully up the hill. He still carried the stick, but now he was using it as a prop.

She watched him appear at the left of her window, a determined look and satisfied smile evident, and followed his progress until he was out of sight. She briefly wondered how he had got his strength back and vowed to ask him, no demand from him, the secret when she next spoke to him. She returned to her book. He reached the buzzing streetlight, paused, and looked back towards his little bungalow provided by the council.

'If only they knew' he thought and chuckled aloud. Taking a few moments to return to his decrepit walk, he leaned on his cane and continued into the slums. His progress was quicker this time; he knew where he was going, he just needed to check on the boy, then it would begin.

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* * * Resting his whole bodyweight on his back heel his tensed his thigh muscles and, counting down the steps the boy took, he leaped from the bush, thrusting off from his compressed leg and simultaneously swinging the knife up from his hip. The boy had no chance. He saw Nathan coming too late and had no time to move, only to cry out, before a searing pain shot through his stomach and an intense ache spread across his abdomen.

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His vision went blurry and the world twisted. Then a second sharp pain stabbed into the back of his head, but it seemed to be at once immediately painful and yet far away at the end of a long tunnel. Tears blurred what vision he had left. Cold replace the pain in his belly and the world started to grow darker. Before passing out he had enough time to register the words 'you set me up you cunt!'.

Then there was nothing. Nathan ran… * * * He woke with a start. His heart was thumping in his chest and his was sweating. He hadn't thought of that night for ages. The pungent smell of rotting trash and the bitter chill of the night brought him back to reality and he pushed aside the stinking rug covering his face. The alley was as dark and cold as ever. No one was around. Nathan shifted position and was about to pull the rug back when a powerful headache caused him to convulse and cry out.

Spasms wracked his back and thighs as muscles rarely used locked up. He flipped over desperate to alleviate the pain and pushed his head down into the pile of cardboard he slept on. It felt like his head was exploding and he wanted to crack his skull to relieve the pressure. His fists clenched and thumped against the floor. His feet curled until they too were convulsed. He tried to scream but his jaw was locked tight and all that could be heard was a muffled, gurgling moan.

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Tears ran down his cheeks and everything grew darker. He felt nothing. The pain ceased as fast as it had come. Nathan looked around the alley and found he had no control over his eyes.

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He could see the alley, but when he tried to look one way or the other, his eyes disobeyed him. He tried to stand. Nothing.

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He tried to speak. Nothing. Numbness. Nothing at all. The cold of the air was gone. The pain in his ribs was no more. He couldn't feel his legs, his arms. Any part of his body. He began to panic. The smell of his own week's old odour was still present, and he could hear the rattling of a tin can blown down the alley by the wind, but he couldn't feel. 'Paralysed?' he thought to himself. 'How?' As if to dispel this thought he stood, or rather his body stood.

Nathan was a passenger in his own body. It moved in shaking steps toward the main road, rugs and bits of rag and cardboard dropped away as he staggered, revealing filthy jeans and several ripped jumpers.

A pair of ruined leather boots were his only foot protection. A hand went out against a corrugated fence to balance. Nathan could not feel the cold steel or roughness of the surface.

He couldn't even feel that it was there and only knew he had touched it because his eyes looked over. 'What the fuck was happening?' * * * Local Chronicle Page 2 DRAMATIC DEATH Local pensioner Charles Sumner died in tragic and dramatic circumstances yesterday, suffering a heart attack moments after avoiding a speeding car while crossing the road.

Local witnesses describe a boy racer roaring down the road directly at Mr Sumner who required a walking stick to move about, and was mid-way across the road. After managing to hobble across just in time Mr Sumner was seen to pause to catch his breath then collapse on the pavement. Several people rushed to help but Mr Sumner was pronounced dead at the scene once the ambulance had turned up.

Stuart Broadstairs was the first person to reach Mr Sumner. He described the ordeal as 'a sad and tragic moment. He went on to say that it seemed odd. 'I always thought that heart attack victims could recover or at least would remain alive for a while, but the old guy was motionless and cold the moment I got there.' Police are searching for the driver of a purple Opel Astra on suspicion of dangerous driving, but are otherwise not treating the death as suspicious.

… [Continue to Part II -> http://www.sexstories.com/story/74444/]

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