July 29th, 2011
End Run by Billy Nakasaki.
The light blue Werner Express Freightliner Classic XL flew down Interstate 76 at 85 miles per hour. Truck 26102 passed company trucks left and right. The CB radio blared as Owner Operators were shocked by the speed of Werner Truck. Skin Hauler grabbed the mic and roared for everyone to git out of his way. The QualComm buzzed excessive speed warnings, but Skin Hauler had his student erase ‘em as fast as they came in. His blue eyes were hard and cold as steel; sweat dripped from his brow despite the AC being on. You can feel the heat rising from his body and his blood turned his skin red. The student’s eyes were wide as he watched Skin Hauler break just about every rule in the company book. Skin Hauler didn’t care if he lost his job he just had to get to Nashville as fast as possible and the nearest major airport was in Denver.
‘Fuck me harder asshole,’ yells Skinhead Bill as I pounded his ass in the basement playroom. The boys were out at that local neighborhood biker bar so we had some time to play. I relentlessly pounded him and while slapping his back and ass. Skinhead Bill yells and groans as I probe him with my massive tool. I’m dripping sweat onto his back and it mixes with his like a sinful sweet and sour. The smell turns me on as I inhale it deeply. I fuck him harder and harder. I shoot a load into him, but I still keep pounding his firm tight ass. I keep pumping him and shoot two more loads before falling onto his slippery back. I lay on top of him for a few minutes before pulling him and myself onto the bare mattress in the middle of the room. Damn, he’s one sexy hot skinhead. We lay next to each other with his head on top of my arm. I hold him and breathe in the smell of hot heavy skinhead sex. He runs his left hand all over my shaved chest, while holding my other hand. I place my free hand on top of his hand and let him drag it around my chest and stomach. He pets me and we just enjoy each other in silence. We look into each others eyes and drink in the moment…
July 25th, 2011
The Changing Room by Mark.
Justin was a skinhead who loved football. He wore either black 20 hole doc martens or red 30 hole rangers. He always wore them with football socks, and if he wore any shorts under his jeans they were also football shorts, and worn for the effect they had on his big long dick!
He played for a local team, and was about their best player. But he always felt the odd man out, although he felt needed, as the team needed him to score the goals which he did regularly.
Saturday arrived again and he made his way to their home ground to play at home against a team from the neighbouring town…
July 23rd, 2011
Daniel by Skinphil.
Daniel was a typical working class lad, from a typical British working class family. His mother stayed at home and looked after the home, his dad worked as a factory labourer, as did both his elder brothers, Vince and Greg. Daniel was in his last year at school, with no prospects of a decent job, and maybe no job at all. He was no scholar. His only scholastic achievement was to be last in his class, and his mates were no better.
With school end looming up, Daniel was no closer to finding a job. Being a skinhead, he tended to frighten most prospective employers before he ever spoke a word. Daniel loved being a skinhead, as did his schoolmates. Their squad totalled 8 in all, and they all dressed in the traditional skinhead style of cuffed bleachers, Fred Perry polo shirts in squad colour of black with yellow trim on the collar and sleeve bands, black steel capped 14 hole Doc’s, black braces and black bomber flight jacket (MA1) with the squad patch on the sleeve, squad motto “Braeside Skins Brothers in Arms” on the back. Daniel wore his uniform with pride everywhere. Both his brothers were skins, as was his father in the early days of the skinhead movement. His mother wore her skinhead gear with pride when she wed Daniels father in 1975. A skinhead family, through and through, and all in the heterosexual manner…
July 21st, 2011
Ben in Blackpool by Boots.
I went to Blackpool for 5 days with a mate from work it was mid autumn and was high season with the lights and all. During our stay we went to the usual clubs saw the same people muscle marries, camp queens and tranies the chances of shag were few and far between, not unless u were prepared to compromise….
So we spent our time getting pissed going to a few straight places chasing blokes that we weren’t going to get. On the last day my mate wanted to go into a pub called the George it was a straight pub and looked very uninviting as soon as we went in I wanted to leave, the blokes their looked me up and down I’m sure they said to themselves what the fuck has he got on as I was wearing my fall skin gear doc martins braces with cropped grade 1 hair.
I didn’t like the look of the place it was very intimidating blokes giving me evil stairs and the woman looked as if they had grown up on a bad council estate, the beer was cheap so was the trade. After 10 mins my mate had set her sights on a young bloke in the corner ‘you know it’s easier for woman to pick up’ and this occasion was no different she was beckoned across with a chance of a free drink. Then I was completely left by myself a couple of lads walked past on their way out and laughed, the whole atmosphere of the place was making me nervous I must of looked very uncomfortable…
July 20th, 2011
Skinhead Prisoner of War by Dougie fae Glesca.
My name’s Dougie McKenzie and I’m proud to be the president of the Feggie Boot Boys, a skinhead gang from Ferguslie Park in Paisley, a town to west of Glasgow. In fact, Glasgow city boundary and Paisley burgh boundary join each other. I’m also the chairman of the Paisley Skinhead Federation, a group of eight skinhead clubs in Paisley and the surrounding area, including the smaller towns of Renfrew, Johnstone and Barrhead.
Ferguslie Park is the toughest area in the town. Guys from Ferguslie are nickname “Feggies” and I’m proud to be a Feggie, the toughest bunch of bastards in central Scotland.
The Paisley Skinhead Federation had been formed three years ago because of attacks from skinhead gangs in Greenock, Pollock and Nitshill (The latter two areas being in the Glasgow South Skinhead Federation) as well as a couple of Hells Angel gangs in the town.
Last year I was elected to the post of chairman for being a tough piece of shit. I’ve been in prison twice and I’m proud to say it was for assault on both occasions. In other words I’m a right tough bastard. I don’t go to prison for shoplifting or bag snatching. That’s for wimps and pansies like you…
