SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 4

I woke up with a throbbing head. Where was I? I was lying on top of a bed. It took a few seconds to realise I was home. I sat up. I looked at the clock. The time was 10 a.m. I looked at my clothes. My jacket was ripped, soaked in piss and smeared in grease. I looked at my jeans. They were also soaked in piss and they were ripped at the knees and also smeared in grease. I stood up and looked at my boots. They were scraped. All the shine was gone. I couldn't believe my eyes. My pride and joy, ruined.

Then things started coming to my mind. I had licked boots? I had asked guys to fuck me? No. That was impossible.

My mind went into overdrive as memories flooded back. Yes, I had licked boots and I had been fucked, several times. I felt the arse of my jeans. The jeans were ripped and there was traces of grease and shit on my finger when I checked them. I couldn't believe what had happened. It must be a dream.

I walked into my sitting room. Lying on a table was a DVD with a note saying "Play this before you do anything else. Copies of this DVD are being sent to 12 clubs in the Wolverhampton and Birmingham areas and copies will be sent to your mates and other interested parties."

I switched on the TV and put the DVD in the DVD player. I stared at the screen. There was a picture of a skinhead fitting a leather collar round my neck followed by me dropping on my knees and kissing his boots. Seconds later a group of guys were pissing over me. I fast tracked the DVD to another part. I was on my knees licking the boots of a scruffy tough skinhead. I fast tracked again. Next was a scene where I was heard saying I would offer my arse to four scruffy scallies if the beat up two guys, and I recognised the guys as my mates.

The camera followed the guys outside and I saw my two mates getting beaten up outside. I fast tracked again to see me in a room bent over a bench and getting fucked by a group of Hells Angels. After withdrawing his cock from my arse one Angel went to my face and I licked the shit off his cock and thanked him for fucking me.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I fast tracked again and there I was me under a rimming stool licking the arse of a guy in greasy jeans. I fast tracked again and heard myself saying a second time that I would give anyone a blow-job or offer my arse to be fucked and giving my address. It must be a dream.

All of a sudden everything came back to me in a flash.

It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. What will my mates say to me?

I remembered the note with the DVD and read it again. "12 copies of this DVD are being sent to clubs in the Wolverhampton and Birmingham areas and others to my mates and interested parties."

Who were the interested parties? Rival skinhead gangs? My boot lickers?

I almost jumped out of my skin as there was a bang on my door and a voice said "Wesley. Are you in there?"

It was the voice of Steve, one of my mates. He would understand.

I opened the door and my five mates burst in. Seconds later I was getting beaten up and receiving a torrent of verbal abuse. I was punched in the jaws, my eyes, and my stomach and as I fell I was kicked in the balls and the arse.

"Some fuck'n mate you are. Tell four bastards if they beat us up they can fuck your arse."

Another one said "The cops were waiting for us at the Corrigan at 2 a.m. We had brought a load of drugs you wanted and we got arrested and charged with drug dealing. The cops told us they got a tip-off from a mate. That must have been you, you fuck'n bastard."

I shouted from the floor "I'm sorry, guys. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean what I said. I don't know. . "My excuse was cut off as I received more kicks to my balls and my arse.

Two of my mates went into my bedroom and returned with pairs of my DM boots and bleacher jeans. "We're having them, to make up for last night."

The others grabbed other parts of my skinhead gear from the bedroom and the living room and within five minutes they were gone. I struggled painfully to my bedroom and looked though watery eye at my wardrobe. It was empty except for a scally outfit.

Six pairs of highly polished boots, all gone. Four bleached jeans, all gone. Eight Fred Perry shirts, all gone. Three green bomber jackets and two black bomber jackets, all gone. Three extra pairs of braces, all gone.

I heard voices outside. I suddenly became nervous and switched off the light. I looked out through the lace curtain. There were four Hells Angels outside. I heard one of them ask a guy coming out the main entrance where Wesley Macdonald lived. A minute later there was hammering on the door and a voice said "Hey Wesley, We've come for a blow-job."

I kept quiet as I remembered the DVD and what I was supposed to say about giving a blow-job day or night. After about two minutes they went away.

There was only one thing I could do now and that was leave town. I dressed in my scally gear, put a pair of sunglasses on and baseball hat low over my eyes, grabbed what clothes remained and left. I would have to get far out of town. Fifty miles away. No, one hundred miles away, Newcastle, London, Plymouth, Glasgow. My life as a gang leader at the Corrigan, and Wolverhampton was over.

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |