Shaun Levin - The Whole Bloody Story of My Life from Beginning to End

And when his tongue wasn't enough, he tucked his shoulders under my knees and brought his cock to my arsehole. He stared at me without blinking and slowly made his way into me, chiseling his cock inside, jerking it back and forth. He was in. He stopped. He closed his eyes and let out this gush of air that was a scream and a sigh. Then he drew his cock out to the tip and slid it back in and kept whispering, "Open up, open up, open up." And I watched him moving in and out of me, and he looked so fucking tormented. Fucking deranged, believe me.

He was sweating like a pig, right. And grunting. Every time he stuck his cock into me he'd snort like a pig, like a desperate fucking animal that had lost all control. His body became darker as the sweat made his hair a damp mat on his skin. My legs were aching as if I'd been holding them up in the air for fucking ages. I needed to lower them, so I slid them off his shoulders and made them a ring around his back. I put one arm around his neck and clung to him like a baby. I pulled myself up and filled my mouth with his hairy nipple. I sucked on it and drank sweat out of his fur and told him to fuck me.

"Oh, God," he said. That's what he said. He said, "Oh, God, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you so hard. I promise."

With my other hand I wiped the sweat off his back and rubbed it into my chest. My skin was already slippery from the sweat dripping off him. He pushed me onto the bed and stared at me. His face was beautiful. I touched his cheek and stroked his forehead and ran my fingers through his hair and traced them down his spine. His body tensed as if he was about to pounce. I clung to his arse cheeks and drew his cock deeper into me, slowly, reassuring myself. I wanted to say: Look. See? I've got all of you inside me.

Are you listening? Are you listening? Can you imagine this? Can you imagine what this was fucking like? In the middle of fucking nowhere with this stranger inside me, and I knew it was going to be fine. I knew that all he wanted was to fuck me. That he wanted me to lie there and take his big fat red-haired cock up my arse.

Then he said. He said, "You like it, don't you?" He said, "You love me fucking you."

"I do," I said.

"You do what?"

"Love it." I said. "I love it."

"What do you love?" he said.

I said, "I love you fucking me."

And then, just like that, he lifted his hand and slapped me across the fucking face. Hard. The pain shot from my cheek to my arsehole like a dart ripping through me. Then he just grabbed my legs and yanked my body down onto his cock and hugged his arms around my knees and shoved his cock into me and used my body to pound into as if I wasn't there and he pulled my arse toward him over and over. And I just let go. I just closed my eyes and let go as if I was doing some fucking yoga exercise, some kind of meditation, right. Fuck, I don't know, some mind and body split. I was looking down at myself and thinking: Fuck, this is amazing. I'm nothing. I feel nothing, and I'm fucking loving it. And then he fucking snorted up this big wad of gob from the back of his throat and spat into my face.

And I could feel again. I could feel how soft my arse was around his cock. I could feel how tight his arms were around my knees. I could feel the fur on his chest rubbing against my legs. And I wished he'd slap my face again. God, I fucking prayed he'd hit me before he came. Because I knew he was close. I knew by the way he was grunting and roaring and then his cum shot into me and dripped from my arse down to my back and he just dropped my legs and fell on top of me.

My face was under his armpit, drenched with sweat, and fuck knows how long since he last washed. He was gasping like he'd just run some fucking marathon. I put my arms around his back and stroked him. His skin was coarse and slippery. I ran my fingers up and down his back, combing his hair, until he rolled off me, slowed down his breathing, and just stared at the ceiling.

"Okay," he said. He said, "Okay. Okay." He said, "You can fuck off now."

I was lying there and there was nothing inside me and I thought, How the fuck am I going to get out of here . I wanted to ask him if I could stay. I wanted to say to him: Let me be here with you. Let me stay here at least until it gets dark outside. Then I can go. I don't want to be out there where everyone can see me. Please, I'll lie here and be still. And when it's dark, I'll go. I should have said that to him. I should have. All I wanted was to be near him. But I kept quiet, I kept hoping he hadn't meant what he said, or that he'd fall asleep and forget. I should have said to him: You don't have to be afraid. You know that. I don't expect anything from you.

But he got off his bed and moved into the living room. He gathered up my clothes and walked with the bundle to the door. He opened the door and chucked everything onto the landing. I walked past him and was going to ask if he really wanted me to go but he stared at me with such disgust I couldn't bear saying anything to him. I couldn't but I still wanted to and I felt my cock go hard and I just said, "Let me stay with you. Please. Let me stay."

His face wrinkled up as if I was the juice at the bottom of the rubbish bin. I should have said: I can love you more than anyone in this world. I can love you like nobody can. But I didn't. He held the door open with his foot and stood with his arms folded across his chest. I looked up at him, at that red fur covering his chest, at his massive nipples above his hands. Then he grabbed his cock and wiped my arse juices from it and onto the wall outside his place. He stepped back inside and slammed the door. And that was it.

I put on my top, hoping someone would come up and see me naked. Fuck, maybe he was even watching me. I tied my laces, my trousers still round my ankles, my arsehole facing his door. I walked back the way we came, looking straight ahead, making sure I didn't see the street name on the corner wall. I know what happens when you come back for more from these guys. I took a left, I think, I think it was a left, and I kept walking. The sun was still out but the air had turned cooler. I love this kind of weather, the kind of weather we've been having lately, that crisp brisk-walk kind of weather. It reminds me of when I was a kid. Going fishing with my grampa. Sitting in his boat at the mouth of the river before the sun came up.

I wandered around for ten minutes before I saw the cafe. I was sure I'd been there before. The name looked familiar. Maybe they'd done the place up since I was there last. It was bright. Yellow and orange walls and this bright blue furniture. The guy behind the counter stared at me. He just stared at me, and I thought, Aren't you open yet? Was there a sign on the door I didn't see?

"You alright, mate?" he said.

"Could I just have a coffee," I said.

"Anything else?" he said.

Because I remember him asking that. I remember him asking if I wanted anything else. And I remember him calling me "mate." I think he did. I think he said, Anything else, mate? Because when he said that, I knew I had to get out of there. I knew that if he asked me one more question I'd answer him the way mad people do when they latch on to you at a bus stop. I'd end up telling him the whole bloody story of my life from beginning to end.

I said just tell me the way to the tube, and he frowned and said, "Coffee's on the house, mate." He said, "Stay. Drink it before you run off." I said I had to be somewhere. I said I'd forgotten that I had to be somewhere. And I did. I did have to be somewhere. I had to be here with you, didn't I? The ride home's a blur now. Maybe because I kept my eyes shut on the train. Maybe because no one ever looks at you in this city.

I had a quick shower at home and changed into some clean clothes. When I looked at myself, in the mirror everything seemed fine. I looked fine. I hadn't eaten all day, and my face always looks better when I'm hungry. More defined and chiseled, right. I like the way I look sometimes. Jesus. Thank God for that. I never have to worry too much about going out and looking a mess. And then I came here. And here we are. And I'm fucking starving. So let's order some food.