His flat was a dump. It smelled of damp and cigarettes and grease, three day old chow mein and the sour cheese tang of unwashed man. He was sat on his lumpy, worn sofa gulping down a can of cheap supermarket lager and idly stroking his manhood. Moans and grunts were playing in the background from his little portable tv but his mind was elsewhere. The slapper down the pub earlier proper fancied him he could tell a mile off but she disappeared off to the toilet when he invited her back to his. Probably just got stuck with one of her stupid friends. He felt restless and on edge. He’d have stuck her like a pig if he’d got her back here. Given her a good seeing to. He put his can down on the filthy carpet and began to make a roll up. Bits of bacci dropping on his belly and limp groin as he drunkenly fumbled with the makings of his next stick of early death, when he heard someone say his name as clear as a bell;
Martin…
His head shot up and he stared at the tv through pissy eyes, his head bobbing as he tried to focus on the screen. Stupid cow was staring right at him and she looked familiar. He laughed. He’d only watched this video about 75 times of course she fucking did! He took a slug of his warm lager and looked again. Her tits were hanging out of the telly, her nipples nearly touching the grubby, threadbare carpet. He laughed again. Silly bastard you need to lay off the stella.
Yes you do martin…
She was like a spider then all fast skinny legs and arms and empty hanging breasts and a face screaming full of anger and death and just as she tore his manhood out by the root with her razor lined jaws he remembered how he knew her. His younger sister’s best friend.
He’d stuck her like a pig.