***WARNING***
This is a very short 'what if' taken from a suggestion from one of my Dear Readers, who can claim credit if they feel they wish to. It is unpleasant and nasty, and written to take the taste of a bad day from my mouth. There is nothing redeeming about either of the characters in this piece. Read with caution.

COLD FEET. AN INTERLUDE

Joe was pissed off. This was the sixth pharmacy post he had applied for since moving over to London. Each time they had said no, and each time he had ridden the tube back to the shitty little bedsit he had found in Tower Hamlets. Cunts, all of them. Always, always, they had turned him down, and he was getting fucked off with having to wash the smell of burger grease from his clothes before the interviews. Nobody else had a paying job for him, so he made the trek each day to the Jobcentre Plus (fucking plus. Plus what?) and they gave him the vacancies, and he went for the interview, and the cunts just sent him that standard fucking letter.

He wanted to scream, and when he did, it hurt, and the memories came back. The boots going in, the punches, the way they had picked him up so they could take turns hitting him till he had felt, really heard, the bones n his face start to break.

Every night, the same nightmare. The biggest one, the blond one with the drooping tache, the way he had smiled when he asked Joe if he really liked having his cock sucked. The knife had flicked into view.

“Perhaps….” as the knife went out of sight, moved downwards, “perhaps if I just cut it off now, and then you can have it to suck for your very own”

And that was when he had pissed and shat himself, simultaneously, and he had felt the warmth, and then they had just walked away and left him in his own filth, and all because of that fucking prick teasing tranny.

She had loved his cock, though. Didn’t she just love to gobble.

Three days later he had another interview, in Leytonstone. There were four other candidates, two niggers, a wog and a tart. That settled it. They would either pick the slit or one of the darkies, tick the fucking PC box and keep a good British man out of a job.

Cunts.

The bitch had a smell about her, as if she had left her pits to fester. Probably a dyke, then. They never washed, he had read that they liked the smell. She wasn’t that bad for a dyke, and he had a moment imagining her munching away on some other slit’s cunt, and there was a little twitch from Mr Happy. Ever since the doctors had cut what was left of his nut from the bag, he had had problems getting it up. He kept seeing a smile, a blond moustache, a knife.

The smelly bitch leant over to him, and muttered “No fucking chance here with these niggers. Fancy just fucking off and grabbing a pint?”

Fuck, might not be a dyke. Joe realised he could probably put up with her smell long enough. Her tits looked a decent size, and if her cunt was a bit manky, there was always her arse. Now, there was a thrill…he suddenly regretted not taking the opportunity to arse fuck that tranny. She had been pretty enough…..

They ended up in a pub in shitty Clapton. She was straight into it, drinking lagers with a shot of rum n them. Joe watched her throw them back, and realised this was his lucky night. Or afternoon.

They ended up at his place. The clothes were coming off before the door was shut, and before they were all off she was on her knees and fuck, did the whore know how to suck a cock. She spat him out and asked the dreaded question.

“What happened to your other bollock?”

“Cancer” he lied. A smile, a moustache, a knife….no, a hot mouth, a bobbing head, and a cunt that needed a good fucking. If she was a dyke then that ended tonight. He still had his cock.

Oh god she was climbing onto him, and that cunt was so warm……

Julie ground her clit hard against him. It wasn’t the biggest cock n the world, but it would have to do. He was an arsehole, was Joe. She knew as soon as they spoke, when her special situation with her bodily secretions had clearly disturbed him.

Soap is unnatural; the body is self cleaning, if you let it do so.

The grinding was working for her, and it seemed as if it was for him too. She started to claw his chest, and realised that for the first time for years she was coming.

Joe watched her twitch above him and realised she was coming, and that pushed him over the edge, and he felt his remaining ball start to unload through his straining cock.

Julie felt herself come as Joe’s cock started to twitch and squirt deep inside her, but, hey ho, not that deep.

She pulled off him, and after a quick cuddle left the shitty little flat. Yet another twat, another turd who couldn’t even see how the body cleaned itself. She had noticed. Each time she moved, he had flinched. Just like all the other bastards. But she knew what they needed, oh yes…

His jizz was still dripping out as she dressed. On the way out of the flat she made sure to headbutt one of the walls, and once on the street she found somewhere out of range of any obvious CCTV and gave her clothes a good ripping. She was careful not to disturb the skin she had gathered beneath her finger nails.

At the police station, she waited outside to see who was about and then..

In.

“Oh god help me I’ve been raped….”