Howard walked along the pier. His stomach was rumbling, and he wanted some fish and chips.
He had been out all day. Out, away from the shop, away from Vince. Stupid, childish Vince Noir. The two men had been friends for a long time, however most of the time Vince got a kick from taking the piss out of Howard.
Howard hated that glam rock bitch sometimes, insulting Duke Ellington of all people. If the jazz gods weren't on holiday they'd have struck him down.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks. Why DID Vince hate jazz? Was it the complex rhythms? Was it the improvisation? Or the scat singing? Or maybe the bizarreness of the musicians. Howard would never know. He'd wanted to ask, but never had the guts.
Anyway, Vince was stupid. Ah, a fish and chip shop.
"Traditional English Fish and Chips" the sign said, if the placard of a silhouette of a fish with the Union Jack emblazoned across it wasn't an indicator. For some reason, in the window there was a rotting eel with polo mints coming out of its mouth.
Howard shuddered. Surely not? Surely HE wasn't there. Howard hadn't encountered the Hitcher in a while - not since he'd walked into the Nabootique on that fateful day, that day when Howard had been there, all on his own, minding his own business, when the greasy green cockney marched in and pissed in his face. The piss hadn't bothered Howard all that much. It was the man's attitude. So powerful, so - Howard winced when this word entered his mind - sexy.
The Hitcher was in the back while the Piper Twins were serving up piping hot fish and chips to hungry holidaymakers. He sat on the settee watching My Little Pony and decided that today would be a good day to pleasure himself to the news. He switched over and grabbed a rotting fish. Before he could perform any questionable, if not illegal, sexual acts, he felt a presence.
"Good god," he groaned. "Not 'im again."
Howard was standing out in the front part of the takeaway, staring up at the menu. There were all sorts of items - chips, breaded fish, battered sausage, and of course, eel pie. Howard was not actually 100% sure about what he wanted to eat.
An ominous wind blew and Howard decided to get the eel special. Eight eels for £2.99. Not a bad deal at all. He entered the shop.
The Piper Twins were stood behind the counter, leering at him.
"Hey mister, boss says he could feel ya coming to our takeaway a mile off," sneered one.
"Yeah, and he's currently out the back wanking to the 9 o'clock news!" laughed the other.
Howard thanked Rudy that he wasn't ordering anything salty.
"Eel special please" he said to the twins. One went off to prepare it while the other continued leering. Suddenly, moaning could be heard from behind the door, followed by an exclamation of "Oh yes!"
Howard rolled his eyes and went to leave, but as he was one of the twins blocked the front door.
"You're not getting out that easy" he said.
Howard yelped slightly. "Why?"
"Boss says he's got some unfinished business with you," said the twin.
Unfinished business. Howard didn't like that. By the Hitcher's standards, it would be something nasty. Howard could only find out, he couldn't leave, he knew what the twins would do to him if he tried. They were stronger than him. Howard knew the extent of their power. He knew what damage they could do.
The Hitcher came out with a fish in one hand and a smile on his face.
"Good God boy" he laughed. "You think I'm gonna rape you or something?"
Howard's mind suddenly went blank.
"Eels..." he murmured, petrified.
The Hitcher leered.
"Eels? Eels? Oh, that was a riot, and a bad time for ya, weren't it boy?"
Howard shivered as the Hitcher came close and began fondling his nipple. "Still pert" Hitcher said as he moved down. Howard took the green hand out of his shirt and threw it towards its owner's face. In response, Hitcher stuck two fingers up the jazz man's nose.
"Yes, still pert aren't you boy?"
"Y-yes sir." Howard could feel himself growing hot and uncomfortable under his orange Hawaiian print shirt. Surely not?
"Good." The cockney rapist let out a short throaty laugh, before walking back through into the back room. "Come with me boy."
Howard thought of valuable records as he was led to the back. Valuable records... Vince naked... the trombone reed of destiny... anything to take his mind of the inevitable rape.
The back room of the chip shop was reminiscent of an old flat Howard had once stayed in a long time ago. Dark and dingy, with blue-green mould gathering in the corners. In the middle of the room sat a saggy old red velvet sofa and a TV which sat on a grimy old wooden table.
Hitcher started unbuttoning his trousers. One, two, zip. He put them down round his ankles and then proceeded to take the yellow, brown and green y-fronts off in a Chippendale fashion, throwing them at Howard.
Howard stared at him, mouth wide. Dear god.
The Hitcher's long green cock was protruding from between his slender thighs, poking high into the air, poised ready for action. Howard let out a deep breath.
Hitcher pissed into a cup on the settee arm, then started pissing all over Howard. The yellow jet knocked the jazz man back against the wall and it seemed like it would never stop.
"Oh, I haven't had a slash in weeks boy" the cockney laughed. "Feels so good to get it all out"
Howard stood there, unable to move, as the seemingly endless stream filled his nose, his mouth, his ears. He tried to open his eyes but the liquid got into them and stung them, in the same way chlorine from a swimming pool stings one's eyes. *HERE*
Hitcher continued pissing for a good ten minutes or so. After he'd finally stopped, Howard, who was now as wet as a fish and smelt twice as bad, opened his eyes to find a window. He tried to approach it, but the Hitcher again began pissing to put him up against the wall.
"You thought I was finished?" Howard tried to get out of the stream of piss but was knocked back again, hitting his head.
When Howard woke up, he saw the Hitcher zip his trousers up. His arse hurt.
"Now let's try that with you awake. Get these trousers off boy."
Howard stood there, scared and saturated in cockney piss. He was warm and damp, and wasn't even sure what he wanted now. His hunger had gone. Slowly, he moved his hands round to the front of his brown corduroy trousers and began to fiddle with the black leather belt.
He hesitated for a second, then continued. Suddenly, an eel crawled out of his arse.
"Why did you shove eels up my arse?" Howard said, buttoning his trousers up.
"After sex I think the best thing to do to ease the pain is shove eels up there. Better than Anusol"!
Howard's mouth dropped.
"You raped me whilst I was unconscious?"
The Hitcher grinned. "Oh yes. And there's more where that came from you slimy wretch."
Howard scoffed. "You're the slimy wretch in this situation mister. The colour green is usually associated with slime. And swamps. And snot."
The Hitcher unzipped his trousers to reveal an erection. The cum came out a slimy green, just like snot. Howard gagged. The Hitcher pinned him against the wall and rubbed the green cum in his face. "You like that, eh, boy?" He pulled an eel out of his pocket and stuck it down Howard's Y-fronts.
The Hitcher's cum smelled worse than his urine. It felt like skin cream, only Howard wasn't sure of the effects of the evil liquid.
"No sir, I don't like it, not at all sir."
"Is that so? Well you're gonna LEARN to like it."
Hitcher reached into his trousers, pulled Howard's pants down and forced him to bend over. He forcefully stuck his long green cockney dick into Howard's arse. Hitcher went in and Howard cried. He tried to run, but the cock was keeping him in place while pulsing in and out.
The Hitcher moaned. "Your arse has a nice texture to it. It's perfect." He thrust harder as Howard squirmed, screaming in agony. Hitcher had that evil smile on his face again as he rode Howard like a seaside donkey.
"Oh boy, haven't had a good strong fuck like this in hundreds of years!" he sneered, as Howard yelped underneath him.
Howard could feel himself getting hard as the Hitcher's cock thrust into him. It was a bit uncomfortable. It was smooth though, like his own cock. That was an adjective Vince had once used to describe Howard's member.
"Your cock's all smooth Howard, so big and smooth and beautiful."
Howard could hear his whingey little cockney accent in his head now. Vince Noir. His best friend and on-off lover.
"Oh Vince!" he moaned.
The Hitcher stopped. "Vince?"
Howard tried to think of an alibi. "Oh, sorry, got your name wrong".
Hitcher sighed and continued.
Hitcher wiggled his cock around inside Howard like an eel.
Howard squirmed. Hitcher continued, laughing his little cockney head off.
"You like it boy. No, you love it boy!"
Howard tried to complain but the Hitcher put his filthy grimy hand over his mouth.
"No use screaming like a baby. Real men take it up the arse. Are you a real man?"
Howard nodded as Hitcher went deeper.
Howard didn't want to admit it to the Hitcher, but he was secretly enjoying this experience.
He liked the feel of his slimy, unwashed-for-decades cock inside him. He knew he was gonna get a ton of genital diseases but that didn't put him off one iota.
The Hitcher thrust inside him continuously, the reached round and gently placed a slim, green, bony hand on Howard's large, erect cock which was jutting out angrily from his crotch.
Howard squeaked, trying to conceal his excitement.
Hitcher rubbed it a little and was thrown back by a wall of spunk. He got up and continued to stroke Howard from the side.
The Hitcher's own member was still fully erect - Howard caught a brief glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye.
He squirmed again. It made the experience a lot more pleasurable.
"You enjoying me tossing you off boy?".
Howard opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out except a long, deep growl. He could feel it – nearly there, nearly at orgasm. The Hitcher hadn't bummed him for long enough, but his hands were making him feel at ease. They were amazing. A lot nicer than Vince's. All long and slender, unlike Vince's which were childlike and stubby in comparison.
"Dear god..." moaned Howard. "Why, why, why am I enjoying this?"
"You do like it boy! I knew you couldn't resist."
The Hitcher sped up, his hands whizzing up and down Howard's long hard manhood.
Howard winced slightly. Why was he actually enjoying this? He was scared of this man, usually, but here he was, having been fucked twice by this man, pissed on, ejaculated on, and now masturbated. More than Vince had ever done to him though.
Howard's mind was now all over the place. Definitely nearly there. All he needed was one last tug on his throbbing dick...
"OH GOD!" he yelled out, as the Hitcher gave that one last pull that sent him over the top. Suddenly, he was ejaculating, quite forcefully, onto the Hitcher's hand, and onto the grimy wooden floor.
The Hitcher gave a slight laugh, then tapped Howard on the bum, before standing up.
"Lick it up boy, then get off my fucking floor."
Howard stared up at the cockney rapist, crosseyed. "Lick up what, sir?"
"The cum on the floor, you twat. Go on."
Howard bent down towards the white liquid on the floor, and gently stuck out his tongue. It tasted absolutely vile, and the texture was pretty nasty too. All stringy. Basically it was like eating a soft, salty elastic band. This, he thought, was even more degrading that what he had just done.
He sucked up every last drop. Then he got up off his knees. His clothes were still slightly damp with hot piss. It didn't really bother him though. He pulled up his corduroy trousers and neatly fastened his belt.
"I'll be off then, my good sir."
"Good riddance to ya," barked the cockney.
Howard walked out of the back room, into the front, the Piper Twins staring at him as he made for the front door.
"Did boss deal with ya then, filthy wretch?" asked one of the twins, who was mopping the floor.
Howard nodded, weakly. Then he opened the door, and walked off out of that disgusting little chip shop into the cool, London, night time air. He reminded himself never to enter that wretched chip shop ever again, no matter how hungry he was.
while she was being :autism:
