That is the only fact based statement in this work of fiction and all the characters are completely fictitious although with such lifelike characters you probably know someone just like them.
The pavement glistened moistly after the rain storm as we huddled together in the 99p shop doorway as we kept an eye on Parson’s Street one Friday in late August 2001.
“That’s the cunt,” ‘Nobby’ Bagthorpe said quietly as he pointed to this ageing Asian bloke with his head down as he legged it up the street as he headed home from Friday prayers at the Parson’s Street Mosque.
“Yeah that’s him,” Al confirmed.
“What him, he looks past it?” I queried.
“Get a grip Allthwaite,” Nobby moans, “It’s the cunt’s kid, fucking Imran as been doing our Sheila not that cunt.”
“Right,” I says, “So what we following that cunt for?”
“Like the fucking Mafia Johnno,” Al says, “That lot.”
“Fucking top man Kuptar,” Nobby adds.
“Right,” I agrees, totally confused, “Now what?”
“Talk to the cunt,” Nobby says.
“Right,” I agreed, “So we fucking threaten him and get the whole fucking tribe round our gaff or worse claiming racial harassment?”
“You got a better idea?” Nobby asks, well as it happens my idea was fuck off down the Flying Horse for a few bevvies, maybe a curry and crawl away and throw up in canal, “Thought not,”
he added.
The bloke kept walking and we followed, we would have caught him up and had a chat except Nobby started wheezing because of the fags and that and Al said he had stitch and I didn’t fancy it on my own as our dad said they carried daggers down their socks.
So we followed ‘Kuptar,’ to his gaff the corner shop on the corner of Mafeking Street and Ladysmith Street and we went in, Mrs Kuptar was serving behind the high counter and she hid her copy of ‘Playgirl,’ and switched her telly to the Asian network instead of one of them porn channels she usually watched as we walked in.
“Hiya sexy!” Nobby said. She stared at him through the rectangular hole in the black tent she wore and she cursed him in Urdu with a Lancashire accent.
“You want something or you come to take the piss?” she asked nastily.
“Where’s the boss?” Al asked, “We know he’s here?”
“Michael,” she shouts, fucking Asian called fucking Michael, you couldn’t make it up.
“Yes,” he bellows.
“Some rough yobbos are here to see you Michael,” she says in English to wind us up.
“Who are they?” he asks.
“Johnno Althwaite and Nobby Bagthorpe, you know Sandra’s brother,” I says.
“I owe the girl nothing!” he said, “Nothing!”
“Not you fucking Imran, he got her up the duff,” Nobby insists, “Ring on finger time savvy?”
Kuptar appears, “Then you must take it up with Imran.”
“Look you’re fucking head of the family, you have a word right?” Al interjects.
“He is his own man and will marry whom he chooses,” Kuptar says and his missus has the decency to blush as we all knew the family planned who married who, a cousin from Bungla probably.
“Tell him to give us a bell,” Nobby said firmly, “We’re off down the Dog and Duck for a bevvy,” he lied and we strode out into the typical mist and light rain that is Weatherfield when it isn’t raining hard.
“That fucking told them,” Nobby said, “Lets get bladdered.”
We went down Flying Horse in case Imran came looking and got started on the Stella. (Artois).
“Hey Johnno, why don’t you marry our Sheila?” Nobby asks after about ten pints.
“No you’re all right mate, I don’t fancy your mum as mother in law,” I says.
“Might be you as got her in family way Johnno,” Al reminded me.
“For fucks sake I fucking paid her and I was rubbered up every time!” I reminded them.
“No offence but she is a pro remember.”
“Nice little earner,” Nobby said drunkenly, “It ain’t fair that tarts gets paid for fucking and blokes has to pay for it.”
“If you say so,” I says , “What do you think Jeremy?”
Nobby looks up all guilty like, he hadn’t seen Jerry France stood behind us.
“Very funny Johnno,” Jerry leers, “That was years ago.”
“What was?” Al asked.
“He got done for soliciting!” I said “Weatherfield’s only rent boy!”
“Oh, very funny,” Jerry says, “Anyway that’s all in the past.”
“Glad to hear it,” Al says.
“Simon and I are getting married in October,” Jerry says proudly and Nobby drops what was left of his pint in his lap.
“Fucking hell!” he protests and frantically tries to wipe his crotch with some blokes anorak that he left hung on a chair while he went to the bog, “They’ll think I pissed me self!”
I tried to ignore him, pillock.
“How’s the Band going,” Jerry asks, going on about Weatherfield Silver, the Brass Band I used to play in.
“Fucking packed it in,” I lied, I got sacked when I fucked up the Intermezzo from the “Ironmasters” in regional final, hit top A flat instead of top B flat you never heard such a fucking row, “You still play?” I asks.
“A bit, I’m back on Flugel now,” he says.
“You always did have good tone, remember when we played ‘Pie Jesu’ for the old folks party?”
I asked.
“The old biddy said it brought tears to her eyes!” he agreed,
“And I said it wasn’t that bad!” we laughed, old Jerry wasn’t a bad bloke for a shirt-lifter, at least he stuck to blokes his own age or older and wasn’t a pedo like most of the queers round our way.
“What about fucking Sheila,” Nobby says.
“No thanks!” Jerry laughs and he slips away.
“Better see fucking Imran,” I said.
“Better get a Curry then,” Nobby says, “Before we waste away.”
Waste away, Nobby’s gut had to be 46 inches at least and he must have been eighteen stone because Al’s Land Rover got quite a list on when Nobby climbed aboard.
We had a curry, “Why is it always Indians what sells curry?” Nobby asked idly as he stuffed his face.
There really wasn’t no answer, and then we met Sheila as we walked home, she was standing at bus stop by WH Smiths.
“What you doing our Sheila?” Nobby asks as if it wasn’t painfully obvious what a seven months pregnant tart in a red miniskirt half way up her ass and a top that was so tight it bulged where her her tits swelled an extra couple of inches on account of her being up the duff, and who was hanging about at a bus stop at near midnight when last bus was ten thirty.
“Go home Nobby,” Sheila says.
“We been trying to fix you up with fucking Imran!” Al says.
“Fuck off!” Sheila says, “He fucking did me bareback the filthy bastard!” she ranted “Its his fault I got caught!”
“That’s what I mean, he got a Merc,” Al adds.
“His dad’s got a corner shop,” I adds.
“Fucking grow up,” she said, “Anyway you met my mate?”
I stared, “Doreen?” there was Ted Atkins missus Doreen in high heels, fishnets and a bum freezer miniskirt hiding in Woolworths shop doorway.
“Johnno,” she says.
“What you doing here?” I asks.
“Lost me job,” she says, “I needs the money,” she said, I looked, she was a bit rough, roots needed doing which showed she was mousy haired really not blonde, too much lipstick, and dressed too tarty with the fishnets, but something stirred down below.
“How much?” I asked.
“No Johnno, I know you it would be like cheating on Ted.” she says.
“How much?” I says again.
“Fifty?” she says.
“Fucking twenty more like,” I says and I rummaged in my pocket, “I got seventeen pounds and eighty three pence,” I says.
“No way!” Doreen protests and then I produced a twenty.
“Oh go on Dor,” Sheila says, “He’s only got a little cock and he comes ever so quick.”
“Oh all right then,” says Doreen and she pulls her G string to one side and expects me to fuck her standing up in Timothy Whites’ chemist’s shop doorway.
“We can’t fuck here!” I says.
“Only take a minute, if we all stand round no one will see.” Sheila says, “Get on with it.”
I fished me tool out and rubbered up with a Durex, Doreen hauls up the hem of her skirt about an inch and I bends me knees and pushes upwards and eases inside her, she was all tight and warm and fucking lovely, “Oh that’s so fucking good!” I says and I humped her about twice and then, “Oh fuck!” I says and me balls are crinkling and there’s that feeling like there’s a red hot steel rod down the eye of your cock and it needs cooling and quite suddenly, “Oh fucking hell no!” I shot me load.
“Pound a second, that’s better than Merchant bankers!” Sheila chuckled.
“Very funny,” I said as me tool shrank.
“I wish my Ted was more like you,” Doreen said, “He keeps me pinned to the counterpaine for half an hour some times trying to get off.”
“Stick the whole fucking knife in why don’t you,” I suggested sarcastically as I chucked the spunked up rubber in the corner and cleaned me tool on me hanky, and they all laughed every fucking one of them.
I zippered up, “Fuck the lot of you!” I said and I staggered off up the hill, which was daft because our house is the other way.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
We had to wait till we sobered up on Sunday before we could get round the shop again to have another word in fucking Kuptar’s shell like.
“Look here’s the deal,” Nobby told Kuptar, “First off fucking Imran pays fucking maintenance for our Sheila’s kid.”
“If the DNA says he is Imran’s we shall talk!” Kuptar replies.
“Indeed,” Mrs Kuptar agrees, “Perhaps we shall adopt the child.”
“Fucking marry our Sheila more like!” Nobby says.
“Be reasonable,” says Kuptar playing for time.
“And second I want’s a crack at your fucking Amina,” Nobby says.
“No!” Kuptar protests, “I cannot let a rough fellow like you associate with my daughter, she is pure!”
“I want’s to fuck her not fucking associate!” Nobby says.
“Associate is Bungla for fuck mate,” Al says helpfully.
“You stupid fellow,” Kuptar retorts, “I do not even want you in the same room as my daughter!” he rants.
“Phone sex?” I suggests, old Kuptar nearly busts a blood vessel but the there is a screech of tyres and Imran and a couple of cousins turns up.
“Ah my boys!” Kuptar exclaims as they burst in like the heroes in a bad Bollywood cop movie, “Please escort these gentlemen from my shop.”
I never knew what hit me, there was this cousin I never saw before and then I just went out like a light, but Nobby was made of better stuff, seems like Imran belted Nobby in the gut and Nobby puked all over his arm and then smacked Imran on the nose busting it and sending him sprawling, then like a true English gentleman Nobby legged it as fast as any eighteen stone fat bastard can leg it and headed for home, leaving Al to whack Imran’s cousin in the face with a ice cold two litre bottle of Coke he planned to buy and to dodge the other cousin and leg it after Nobby leaving me on the deck out cold.
I come round in the back room of the shop, “It seems you are not a fighting man Mr Allthwaite?” Kuptar says.
“For fucks sake,” I says checking me jaw and teeth, “That was out of order.”
“You’re alive aren’t you?” Imran snaps.
“Just a fucking bout,” I says, “No thanks to you!”
“You should have let Freddie finish him off!” Imran ranted.
“What’s fucking stopping you,” I asked.
“Mr Allthwaite we are peaceful men,” Kuptar said, “We are not roused easily but you have been warned.”
“I’ll bring a fucking gun next time,” I told him.
“Try it,” that Imran cunt says and next thing there’s a fucking AK47 barrel pointing at me head, fucking Kalashnikov no less.
“Right,” I says, “Good point.”
“Freddy!” Kuptar whined, and had a real go at him in Urdu or some such, “You idiot!”
“Look, no skin off my nose,” I says, “Loads of folk got guns, me dad’s got a Lee Enfield in the shed.”
“What is this?” this girl asks and I saw Amina’s face through the face hole in the tent she wore.
“Fucking hell,” I exclaimed, “You gone all religious?”
“No,” she replied sadly, “Go home John,” she said and added, “Don’t come back!”
“Christ you changed,” I said remembering how she used to leap about playing Netball at school in a short skirt flashing her knickers when she was in year ten before her tits developed.
“Go!” she said.
I didn’t need a second telling, I stood up wobbled a bit and headed out the back door down the yard and out into the back alley where I had a quick look back before I legged it for home.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Fucking cunt’s got guns!” I told Al and Nobby later.
“So’ve we,” Al says.
“Fucking Lee Enfield from Bore War,” I says.
“Fucking good gun that,” Nobby says.
“We can’t fucking carry that down the street can we?” I explained, “Not without getting fucking arrested.”
“Good point,” Nobby says, “Better cut the fucking barrel off.”
“Don’t be a fucking dick head,” Al says, “You wants a fucking mallet.”
“Iron bar,” I says.
“Fucking half shaft!” Al says and laughs.
“Right,” I agrees, “Fucking Land Rover half shaft, you got a busted one haven’t you Al?”
“I got a spare good one Johnno,” Al says, “Fucking hell we could twat some bastard and stick the shaft back in and the cunts wouldn’t never be able to find the weapon.”
“Fucking truck wouldn’t work though would it,” Nobby says.
“Four wheel drive just use the diff lock,” I says.
“Fucking hell, fucking half shaft against a fucking gun,” Al says.
“Fucking guns more like,” I says.
“Well I’m up for it!” Nobby says, like a true dick head.
“What?” I says.
“Twatting that cousin what decked you,” Nobby says.
“Yeah,” I said uncertainly, “That bastard needs a muzzle.”
“Three months in fucking traction more like,” Al said, “Any one fancy another?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Good lad, mine’s a Stella, oh and a pack of nuts,” Nobby added so I had me wallet out again getting a round in.
“Thing is,” Nobby said, “By the time we’ve had enough Stella to be up for it we are too pissed to do anything.”
“Fucking right,” I agreed, “Saturday morning.”
That’s why we went round fucking Kuptar’s gaff again on Saturday morning, just to sort fucking Imran out, see Al busted the half shaft on his Land Rover and bought a pair off of Ebay so he had a spare so there we fucking were half past fucking six in the morning sat in Al’s Land Rover
waiting for the shop to open with a spare half shaft wrapped in a towel.
It was about quarter to seven when the door opened and Amina looked out and stuck the sign outside, the sun was shining and she looked really stupid in head to toe robes like a pantomime Virgin Mary out of the nativity.
“Come on!” I shouts and I grabs the half shaft and legs it for the shop, fucking Amina sees us coming and screams.
“No, please No!” she squeals but I was past her and through the shop, “No!” she squeals, “Papa!”
I burst in the kitchen, fuck! they was all there, the whole fucking tribe with this white bearded bastard sat there and the whole fucking table was loaded with stuff in brown paper wrappers, and bits of mobile phones , fucking dildoes and a butt plug and all sorts of crap.
“Fuck!” I wailed, “What the fuck!”
“Where’s fucking Imran?” Nobby asked.
“Which cunt twatted you?” Al asked.
“It’s a fucking bomb factory you dopey cunts,” I says and I saw the bearded fucker move like he had ideas about drawing a gun or summat, anyway the towel was off and I smacked that fucker right in the chops with the splined end of the half shaft, he screamed like a stuck pig and fell off of his chair.
They was all a bit slow to react but they was fucking coming to life already, fucking Kuptar looked like he shit his self and there was half a dozen other fuckers sat around panicking.
“No!” Kuptar shouted, “Imran no!”
Imran had the Kalashnikov in his hand, only bit of luck was he didn’t know the safety was off and he stuck it back on by mistake, I swung the half shaft at him, clang I reckon it put a dent in that Kalashnikov barrel anway he dropped it like it was red hot and then all the other fuckers was legging it, they pinned poor old Nobby against the wall and shoved Al back into the shop and fucking legged it, some out the back some through the shop, then there was just Imran, Kuptar and me, oh and the bearded fucker blabbing in Urdu about his busted face.
“Fucks sake Johnno,” Nobby says, “Fucking hell!”
I just stared and then Amina came in, “Now look what you’ve done!” she screamed.
“It is ok,” Kuptar said.
“What the fuck is this!” I yelled.
“Bombs,” Amina said, “My stupid brother has religion.”
“Kill the infidels!” says the bearded fucker so I twatted him with the half shaft again and thirty pounds of high tensile steel was no match for his bony skull and he went down and stayed down.
“W’what are you going to do?” asked Kuptar.
“Well,” says Nobby, “How about our Sheila?”
“What?” says Kuptar.
“That cunt got our fucking Sheila up the duff,” Nobby exclaimed.
“Are you mad?” Amina screeches, “The Imman is dying, the table is covered with bombs and you want my brother to marry a prostitute!”
“Yep,” Nobby says, “Got it in one!”
“Agghhh,” squeals Amina, “I am calling the Police!”
“Hey don’t be too hasty,” Al says, blocking her way, “Some of this is dodgy.”
“You idiot!” Amina squeals, “These are bombs, not fake designer handbags!”
“Fucking hell,” I says looking at the stuff on the table, fucking vibrating fucking dildo cut open with some yellow paste stuff and some electrics stuffed in it, “Hey do these go where I think they go?” I asked.
“Fuck you Allthwaite,” Imran snarled.
“What up their asses?” Nobby asks.
“Looks like it,” Al adds, “Or their cunts.”
Amina slaps him round the face, “I am pure!” she wailed.
“You poor bitch,” I said, “You want to get out more.”
“That’s what I been saying,” Nobby says, “You and me how about it?”
“I should rather fuck Allthwaite at least it would be quick!” Amina snapped.
“Who told you?” I asked and she blushed and Imran worked out how the safety worked aimed the Kalashnikov at Nobby and let fly, he missed by a fucking mile and sent a line of bullet holes across the wall and ceiling and busted one of the light fittings.
“Fuck!” he said as he ran out of bullets.
“I fucking warned you,” I said and I smashed the half shaft down on his right wrist, he screamed, “Fucking pack it in,” I said.
“The police!” Kuptar protested and then Mrs Kuptar turned up in her nightie to see what was up, a short nightie about nine inches above her knee, loads of cleavage totally different to the tent she wore in the shop.
“Mama!” Amina protested, “You are not dressed.”
“Dressed, who cares,” the mother protested, “I heard shooting!”
“Car backfired!” Al lied unconvincingly.
“And those are woodworm holes?” the mother asked pointing at the ceiling.
“Death watch beetle,” I said, “Look we don’t give a fuck about guns and that we just wants that fucker to do right by Nobby’s Sheila.
“What?” the mother asks.
“That cunt got our Sheila up the duff!” Nobby explains, “We just want’s what she’s due.”
“What?” Kuptar asks, “You don’t care?”
“No,” I agreed, “If that cunt does right by Sheila that’s it.”
“Marry the prostitute Imran,” Amina says, “Say you’ll marry the prostitute.”
“I have promised cousin Mustafa!” Kuptar announces.
“Oh yes, your promises,” Amina agreed, “He promised me to his brothers eldest!”
“Fuck!” I said, “That’s fucking rough, what in fucking Bungla?”
“No Bradford!” she said, “He’s so old!” she said, “Like thirty!”
“He is a Surgeon!” Kuptar insisted.
“Without a UK passport,” Amina countered, “And a homosexual!”
“Look,” I says and pointed at the bearded fucker, “Maybe we should get that bastard a doctor?”
“Bit late Johnno,” Nobby said, “Smells like he shit his self, fuckers does that when they dies.”
I looked, he didn’t look too lively but he hadn’t stopped bleeding, so maybe he was ok.
“Lock the shop door Amina,” Kuptar insisted, then he asked, “What shall we do?”
“Any ideas Nobby, Al?” I asked.
“Sort out that crap on the table,” Al suggested.
“Fair enough,” I agreed, “You like the IRA or something?” I asked.
“Yes, a little,” Kuptar agreed.
“So what’s the crack?” Nobby asks.
“They are going to blow up an aeroplane on 9th November,” Amina announced.
“Amina enough!” Kuptar snapped.
“Oh not my father or brother,” Amina sneered, “Oh no they are in it for the money.”
“Amina enough!” Kuptar protested.
“They don’t care that people will die,” she said.
“Infidels!” Imran added.
“You want another tap, cunt?” I asked, he shook his head, “Then fucking button it then,” I told him.
I eye balled the stuff on the table, “So what is it?” I asked, “RDX?”
“Semtex,” Imran said, “And there are mobile telephone timers.”
I eyeballed the stuff in the table, “Where?” I asked.
“There,” Imran pointed to a circuit board.
“That’s just a 555 timer and and on off switch,” I told him, after all I did know a bit about electronics.
“No, it is a reciever!” Imran protested.
“No,” I said, “Just a timer,” I said and he bloody fainted.
“You fucking idiots!” Nobby said, “You could have blown the whole gaff up!”
“Fucking gaff, they would have blown themselves up,” I countered, “I guess they was going to hide this lot up their jacksies.”
“And leave it on the plane,” Kuptar agreed.
“Blow themselves up,” Al agreed.
“No they fly to Paris,” Amina explained, “Charles de Gaul and switch the receivers on and flush the explosives down the lavatory before they come in to land at Heathrow, then they detonate them remotely over London when the plane continues to New York!”
“Not with that set up you dopey cunt,” I says,”That’s just a timer and you’d blow up with it!”
“Fuck!” says Nobby, “Better than being married to our Sheila,” he adds, “Being dead like.”
“Ok, Imran will pay maintenance,” Kuptar agreed.
“What about Amina?” Nobby says, “How about pictures later?”
“Well?” I asks Kuptar.
“Yes you may go Amina.” Kuptar agrees.
“Not with that fat bastard,” Amina says.
“Who then?” I asks, “Al?”
“Don’t you fancy me then Johnno?” she asks.
“Here just a minute!” I says.
“But don’t you see if I am not a virgin I can no longer marry my cousin!” Amina pointed out, “And with such a little cock and so little staying power.”
“You fucking bitch,” I says, “Sod the pictures lets go upstairs right now!”
“Amina No!” Kuptar says but she smiles through the window in her black tent and takes my hand.
I hands the half shaft to Nobby, “You know what to do!” I says and I follows Amina upstairs.
Seems she only had a bra on under that great tent and pretty quick she was on the bed with her legs apart and I was struggling out of me trousers with me cock straining like a foxhound with the scent.
She looked bloody good, all tight where she should have been, no flab nor nothing and pretty soon I was on her, kissing and pretty soon her legs was spread wide and I eased my tool up against her hymen and pushed and busted her wide open, she screamed and I felt this sudden surge of power and I shafted her real hard about twice and me balls exploded and of course I cummed before I knew.
“Agghhh, oh?” she said.
“Sorry,” I says.
“Is that all?” she says as I pulled out leaving her all sticky up inside.
“Afraid so,” I says.
“No!” she says, “It can’t be!”
“Life is hard and then you die,” I said comfortingly, and went to find my Y fronts where I kicked them under the bed.
“No!” she said and she laid into me all punching and that and then I was holding her wrists and she was right in front of me and her eyes was like shining and me tool started getting hard again.
“Ok, you win round two,” I says all seductive like and pushes her on the bed.
He slipped in all easy like this time, she groaned more than screamed, then her legs was wrapped round me and her hands was on me ass dragging me into her, it wasn’t like usual when the bint wanted me off so she could get the next John in, there was no panic.
“Amina, are you all right!” her mother called.
“Better than all right, worth fifty quid easy,” I says and fuck me if fucking Imran didn’t bust in the room, he had his shoulder to the door not realising we forgot to lock it and he come in like a rocket and twatted the wardrobe with his head and went down like a sack of King Edwards.
“You idiot!” Amina said, “Why do you call me a whore?”
I told her, “It’s like a compliment!”
“You call me a whore as a compliment!” she says.
“What you want, you want me to say ‘I love you,’ or something?” I asks.
“You could,” she said.
“You fuck like that and I reckon I could.” I says.
“Say it,” she says.
“Fuck it I’m cumming again,” I says, “Bollocks!” and my balls were churning and the spunk was rushing down my cock and she was gasping and everything went green and purple for a while.
“Fuck,” I said and I kissed her head.
“That was much better,” she muttered, “Will you let me up?”
“You want to go to the pictures sometime?” I asked automatically.
“No, my father does not allow,” she said automatically and then, “Yes,” she gasps delightedly, “Yes I am a bad girl now!”
“Aw my head,” Imran groans.
“Fuck off out of it eh wanker?” I says, “Your sister and me is right in the middle of a fuck fest!”
I expected the ‘Die infidel,’ crap but instead he stares at me, “What about the guns?” he says.
“What a fucking bout them?” I asks.
“Idiots!” he squeals and he legs it back downstairs, then he comes back up, “He says I must kill you!” he says, “The Imman!”
“So?” I enquires, “So what?”
“So I must kill you!” he says.
“Don’t be an idiot all your life Imran,” Amina says, “Where is he?”
“He has gone, they have gone, everyone has gone, just Papa and me and you left.” he said.
“Ok,” I says and starts pulling my kit on,
Amina was struggling back into her tent, “Hey,” I says, “No way am I having my bird wearing that crap!”
She smiled, maybe she liked the idea of being my bird, “I have some old stuff,” she said and she hunted down some jeans and a sweater and she looked quite tasty.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony Mulholland was stood outside Kuptar’s shop and Sgt Fforbes was inside with a couple of blokes from the CID.
“Where the fuck have you been/” Tony asked, “Fforbes is doing his nut.”
“Fair do’s,” I said, “We’re doing you a favour remember.”
“They’re inside.” he said.
I went in, Amina was bent over the shop counter while one of the CID lads fucked her from behind while she sucked the other bastards dick, it wasn’t quite your electric blue as the poor bastard had to stand on a pile of News of the Worlds to make himself high enough.
“Where the fuck have you been Allthwaite!” Sgt Fforbes demanded.
“Oi, I’m doing you the fucking favour!” I reminded him, “What you want anyway?”
“Fifteen hundred,” Fforbes said.
“What?” I asked.
“Twelve fifty then,” he said.
“What the fuck for/” I asked.
“Three Kalshnikovs, a box of Semtex, four Tesco value brand mobile phones, detonators.” Fforbes listed.
“And what the fuck would I want with them?” I asked.
“Well,” Sgt Fforbes said, “You’re always saying you reckon when you get peophiles you should stick a stick of semtex up their ass and light the fuse.”
“That’s drink talking,” I says.
“And terrorists,” he says.
“Fair do’s,” I agree.
“Now’s your chance.” He says.
“Fuck that.” I says, “Your mate’s screwing me bird bareback.”
“You don’t own me!” Amina says as the bloke’s cock drops out her mouth.
“Dead right,” I says.
“He has ten times the staying power,” she says.
“You’ll wish he didn’t when you’re red raw from fucking later on,” I replied.
“Fucking hell Allthwaite,” Fforbes says, “Can you shift this lot or not?”
“Perhaps,” I says, “Semtex, dets, any timers?” I asked.
“Loads of crap,” Fforbes says, “We’ll be doing fucking paperwork from now till Christmas if we has to take this fucking lot down the station.”
“Right,” I agrees, “Twenty quid, final answer.”
“Don’t be a twat,” Fforbes snarles, “That’s not even a round of drinks.”
“Twenty quid and we dump the whole lot,” I offered.
“Here,” says Al suddenly, “We could stick them AK47s on Ebay.”
“Say they’re replicas!” I laughed.
“Yeah, give the fuckers a shock when they finds they aint!”
To be continued?
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Via: https://sexstories.com/story/69725/shafting_some_bunglas_with_a_ftc_871