The Night Bus

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Licensing: This story is originally posted on The Nifty Archive, www.nifty.org . It may be reposted anywhere the content is legal, so long as (1) none of the text (including this license) is altered or omitted, (2) credit is given by including the email address hackneyfagboy@proton.me , (3) anyone who reposts it emails to let me know where, and (4) no-one gets money for it (including ad revenue). Any use by, for, or in connection with artificial intelligence is expressly prohibited.

The Night Bus Chapter Four

Charlie summoned me a few days later to meet him again. 'Bus stop 1500 Sat,' he texted. 'Dress posh.'

I'd recently started my tenancy in chambers and often worked Saturdays but I'd skive off for him. I was wary about my clothes, though; they'd been destroyed last time. And what did he consider posh? On the day, which was unseasonably warm, I wore a jockstrap, blue suit trousers, and a pink striped shirt, collar open and sleeves turned up for the heat. I carried the jacket and had the fagboy necklace he'd given me in my pocket. I wanted to wear it for him but not on the Tube. I put it on as I walked from the station towards the bus stop.

I heard a commotion from the housing estate as I approached. I was about a half-hour early; better that than late, I'd thought. A group of kids were playing football on an improvised pitch between two blocks of flats; someone had marked out lines on the scrubby grass with spray paint. Looking on as I drew near, the kids were maybe nine or ten but running among them officiating were Charlie, Gav, and Nige. Charlie was shirtless, wearing only trainers and football shorts, his lean muscles glistening in the sun. No-one had noticed me and I took an inconspicuous place near the wall to watch.

Nige saw me first a few minutes later. Running down the touchline, he did a double-take before he stopped midstride and his jaw dropped. 'Oi!' he called. Gav looked at him and Nige pointed at me.

Gav turned and scowled. 'What the fuck?' I saw him mutter; I was too far to hear.

'Leave it,' Charlie yelled at them from midfield. He'd clocked their reactions but kept his focus on the match. Sometime later a phone alarm sounded the end of time and play stopped. Charlie called the kids over to him in the centre circle and spoke to them for a few minutes. Gav and Nige stood to the side glaring at me. Charlie eventually sent the kids off and they dispersed into the flats. He walked towards me and the other two followed.

'What the fuck is she doin' here?' Nige asked.

'I told him to come,' Charlie answered.

'You what?' Gav asked incredulously. 'What for?'

''Coz I've got shit for him to do,' Charlie said as they stopped in front of me. He turned to Gav and squared his shoulders. Gav stepped back.

'Why's he dressed like a toff?' Gav asked.

''Coz I fuckin' told him to! That's what he does: what I fuckin' tell him to.' He turned to me and smirked when he saw the tag under my shirt. 'What's that?' he asked me.

I swallowed. 'My collar, sir.'

'Why're you wearin' a collar?' he asked.

'"A bitch needs a collar so everyone knows who owns it," sir,' I answered, repeating what he'd said the day he put it on me. The tension between the three of them ebbed; Gav and Nige glanced at each other and snickered.

'What's it say?' Charlie asked.

'It says "fagboy, Property of Master Charlie," Sir.' I answered. Gav laughed.

'Who put it on you?' Charlie asked.

'You did, sir.'

'Who fuckin' owns you?'

'You do, sir.'

He pointed to his feet. I anxiously looked round to see if anyone was watching. He slapped me. 'If I don't fuckin' care who sees a faggot kiss my feet, it's not for the faggot to care who sees him,' he glared.

'Yes, sir,' I said and dropped to my knees. Fuck! I realised I was hard as bent my face down to kiss his trainers like I had in the alley a week earlier.

'They're dirty from the match,' he said. 'Lick 'em clean.'

'Fuckin' hell, Charlie,' Nige said. 'We're out in the open.'

'He's gotta learn,' Charlie said. 'Go on,' he told me. I stuck out my tongue and swabbed it over the gritty leather. I swallowed dirt and kept going. 'And why ain't you filmin'?' he asked the others. I heard the rustle of mobiles being pulled from pockets. After a half dozen licks, he had me switch shoes. 'Enough,' he said when it was glistening, too.

As I rose up on my knees he took a step forwards, gripped my fringe with his left hand, and held my face an inch from his crotch. I could smell the funk wafting from it and I moaned. He tilted my head up and smirked. 'Show me your tongue,' he said. I opened my mouth and stuck it out. I could feel bits of grime still clinging to it as he looked down. He snorted and cleared his throat, then spat onto it. He gave me a half nod and I swallowed it.

'Again,' he said; I opened and stuck it out again. This time he slid the first three fingers of his right hand down to the base. I fought the urge to gag as my eyes watered. 'Good faggot,' he said. His left hand still gripping my hair, he pulled his right hand out of my mouth and wiped it on his shorts. Then he ran it up his abs and over his chest, then under his left armpit. He pulled it away, then brought the palm down and smeared it over my face.

'Oh fuck,' I murmured as I breathed in his scent.

'What do you say, fagboy?' he asked.

'Thank you, sir.'

He held out his palm. 'Lick,' he said. I did. My cock was throbbing from all the humiliation and my jockstrap felt drenched. 'Now get up and follow.' I stood but when I reached down to brush the dirt off my trousers he stopped me. 'No. You don't have to crawl but let everyone see you've been on your knees for me. It's where you belong.'

'Yes, sir.'

We started walking through the estate, the three boys ahead and me following. 'So if you decided to get fagboy down here, are we still on for tonight?' Gav asked Charlie.

'Yeah, why not?'

'Well, if you're fuckin' him...' Gav began.

'You lads don't get it, do you?' Charlie asked.

'Well obviously not, Charles,' Gav said. 'We're obviously in the fuckin' dark here.'

'I mean look, Charlie, we thought we had tonight all planned and she turns up,' Nige said gesturing back to me. 'Out of the blue like, then you say you brought her. With no disrespect, mate, it raises questions.'

Without breaking stride, Charlie turned back to me. 'Mark that,' he pointed. It was the door to the alley. He turned forwards again. 'The problem with you two is lack of imagination,' he said. 'You think fagboy's just for fuckin' so you think if I want him around, I must be goin' queer for him.'

'I didn't say you were goin' queer...' Nige began.

'Fuck off, Nige, that's exactly what you were thinkin'. Gav, too,' Charlie said. We all walked on in silence after that. Charlie led us into one of the blocks and bounded up the stairs to the fourth floor. He turned right and opened one of the flats midway down the line. The front door opened into a small square vestibule. The kitchen was opposite, a dining area to the left. Immediately right of the kitchen were the bathroom and an airing cupboard. Charlie led us left past the kitchen and dining area to the lounge. There were two doors behind me after I turned to follow, one to the front of the flat, another opposite to the back; both were closed, presumably the bedrooms.

Gav and Nige dropped onto the sofa opposite the television; Gav grabbed the remote from the perspex coffee table in front of it and switched on to a football match just getting underway. Charlie sat in a recliner angled in the corner. 'Lager,' he said to me holding up three fingers and nodding to the kitchen.

'Yes, sir,' I said. The lower shelf of the fridge was packed with Carling. I brought three cans, set two on the table in front of Gav and Nige, and handed the other to Charlie. He had produced a joint from somewhere and lit it. He exhaled smoke as he took the beer; the balcony and all the windows I could see were open against the heat and a breeze blew the smell through the room. He took another long draught then pointed with it to the sofa and handed it to me. I passed it to Gav.

Gav took it, puffed, and passed it to Nige, otherwise ignoring me as he watched the match. Charlie levered the recliner back and pointed to the floor in front of him. I knelt. He said nothing as his eyes held mine. Acting on impulse, I leant forwards and kissed the sole of his right trainer. He smirked. I did it again on the left. I could actually feel the pulses of precum oozing out into my jockstrap with each throb of my hard cock.

Still holding Charlie's gaze, I stuck my tongue out and licked the sole. He slid his left hand into his shorts and adjusted himself; his cock was hard, too, and he pulled it up so it stuck out of the waistband. From this angle, I could look up the leg of his football shorts and see compression shorts underneath. Great to support his massive package whilst he'd been running, I thought, but no doubt uncomfortable in his current state. I turned and licked the right sole, too. Charlie took a swig of his beer and lowered his other hand to his lap, lightly cupping his balls. Our eyes hadn't left each other's since I'd knelt. I licked his right sole again, then sat back on my heels. I reached up and slowly traced the tag hanging from my neck with a finger. Charlie's cock throbbed. I lifted the tag up to my lips and kissed it. His cock throbbed again. He drank from his can.

'My feet are tired,' he said quietly. I knew what he wanted. I rose up on my knees and untied his trainers, then gently slipped them off. His socks were sweaty and pungent. I rolled them off, too, and took his right foot in my hands. He closed his eyes as I began pressing my thumbs into his bare foot, rolling them firmly into his flesh. After a few minutes, I thought he had dozed off; his eyes were closed, his chest slowly rising and falling. I leant forwards and held my nose close to his foot, inhaling deeply. I clenched my eyes shut and froze, my cock jerking wildly, then gasped raggedly as I almost came. I opened them to see him glaring down at me.

He said nothing but I knew what he was thinking. I shook my head slightly and held up my hand, my thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart. His face relaxed and he waved his left foot. I moved over to massage it. His eyes were lidded, almost closed, as he watched. As my hands worked the flesh I moved my nose close again, more conscious of myself this time, more careful and controlled. I breathed in deeply and sighed. I did it again. Then I licked. He flexed his ankle, flicking his foot back. I realised the light touch of the lick must have tickled. I gently held his foot and pressed my tongue harder against the skin, dragging it slowly from his heel to his toes. His eyes were open now, watching intently. I lowered my mouth round his big toe and began to suck. I repeated on each of the other toes. Then I moved to the right foot and copied what I'd done on the left, starting with the long, hard lick from the heel. I'd made it to the middle toe when someone scored on the television and the two boys on the sofa erupted. I'd forgot the football; I'd forgot Gav and Nige.

'Ergh!' Nige, said. 'Is she fuckin' faggin' out on your feet now?'

'Yeah,' Charlie said. 'Almost bust his nut at the smell of 'em.'

'Fuckin' gross,' Nige said.

'Want him to do yours?' Charlie asked.

'Fuck no! I don't want her creamin' anywhere near me,' Nige answered.

'How would you feel if you made a fit bird like your Kim cream just from kissin' your feet?' Charlie asked.

'Kim wouldn't kiss my feet,' Nige scowled.

'Not my point,' Charlie said. 'You've got a fit bird on her knees, you know she wants your cock, she'll do any fuckin' thing to get that cock inside her, and to prove it, she bends down and kisses your feet. And when she does, that alone is enough to make her cream her panties. What would that say about you? What would it say about her? What would it say about what else you can get her to do for you?'

'Dunno,' Nige shrugged.

'Lack. Of. Imagination.' Charlie said, tapping a finger in the air to punctuate each word.

'Can this philosophical discourse wait till the half?' Gav asked.

'Yeah,' Charlie said. 'I'm ready for another round now anyway.' He looked back down at me, tapped his can, and held up three fingers. I started to stand but Charlie shook his head. 'No. Crawl there. Walk back.'

When I came back with the beer, Charlie had put his cock back in his shorts and the recliner was upright. 'Jesus, he looks like he pissed himself again,' Gav said, waving to my crotch. The whole front of my trousers was wet with precum, from my flies halfway to my knees.

'I told you he almost nutted smelling my feet,' Charlie said. I passed out the cans and knelt where Charlie pointed. 'Open,' he said and stuffed his socks in my mouth when I did. 'Lay on your back,' he said. 'Hands under your arse, out of trouble.' I got into position, parallel with the recliner, my head pointed towards it. He put his clammy bare feet on face, using it as the footrest, one arch on each side of my nose. With my mouth full, I could only breathe through the gap between them.

The rest of the half was uneventful for them but torment for me as I struggled to keep my cock under control. Charlie's feet were all I could smell, and his sweat was dissolving in my saliva so I had to keep sucking it out of his socks and swallowing it down.

After the stoppage time, Charlie swung his feet off and beaconed me to follow him. I crawled back towards the bedrooms. He opened the door on the right, nearest the front of the flat. Clearly his room, the bed was unmade, there were dirty clothes strewn across the floor, and the stale scent of his musk filled the air. 'Change the bed and gather everything up to be washed after the match,' he said. He paused and shucked both his football and compression shorts off in one motion, standing in front of me completely naked. I whimpered into the socks still filling my mouth. He lifted the compression shorts with one foot. Taking them with his hand, he pressed them over my nose and mouth. I was staring up at his bare, sculpted body and breathing deeply and moaning through the stinking fabric. 'Don't you fuckin' cum,' he said.

I pleaded with my eyes as I fought to maintain control. My balls were well and truly blue by now and felt like he was clenching them in his fist. His smell was making my synapses explode and his cock, soft again, was hanging inches from my face. 'You're smarter than Nige,' Charlie said softly. 'You understand what I said earlier, don't you?' I nodded. With the hand that wasn't holding his compression shorts over my nose, he tapped the tag round my neck. 'You know what this really means. And you know it's as true as I do,' he said. I nodded again.

'Put them with the rest,' he said, letting go of my face and tossing the compression shorts to the floor. 'Socks, too.' He turned and in profile pulled the football shorts back on with nothing under them, letting me see his lean, muscular calves, quads, hamstrings, glutes, and obliques ripple as he moved.

'Yes, sir,' I mumbled through the socks. I crawled back out of his room after him. He opened the airing cupboard. There was a vacuum cleaner, mop, and bucket on the floor, cleaning supplies on one of the shelves.

'Until the match ends and you can start the wash and hoover the carpet, I want the rest of the place spotless,' Charlie said. 'Empty the bins and take the liners out. You know where they go,' he reminded me. 'Wait for Gav and Nige to leave to start cleanin' in the lounge and don't touch that room.' He pointed to the other bedroom door. 'That's off limits. Now put your suit jacket on. I want my posh faggot dressed properly while he serves me.'

'Yes, sir,' I mumbled.

The flat was actually quite tidy already, apart from Charlie's bedroom and the lounge. All the dishes were washed and put away, for example, which was more than I could say about the flat I shared. Cleaning was sweaty work in my suit, though. I mopped the kitchen, scrubbed the bath, tile, and toilet as it dried, sponged all the counter tops, then mopped the bathroom. The smell of cannabis occasionally blew through from the lounge and Charlie called for lager twice more during the match but when it ended I'd done all he'd told me to do except take out the bin liners.

'This, lads, is what I meant about having shit for fagboy to do,' Charlie said as he led them round to inspect my work.

'Yeah, all right, Charlie,' Gav said as they headed to the front door. 'Send him round to do ours next.'

'Not today,' Charlie said. 'Not enough time before tonight. You two live in a tip.'

The brothers chuckled. 'Yeah, that's why we always come to yours,' Nige said.

Charlie closed the door on them and turned to me. He wrinkled his nose. 'Fuck, you pong.' My shirt and suit trousers were drenched and plastered to me with sweat, and it had even bled through the back and armpits of my jacket. I didn't doubt I reeked. He grabbed my dripping hair with his right hand and raised his left arm. He pressed my face into his armpit. 'How 'bout me, fagboy?'

'Fuck, sir, you smell awesome,' I moaned. I breathed deeply, then I ran my tongue over his pit hair.

'You really can't get enough, can you?' he asked. I shook my head as I continued licking. He indulged me for a few minutes, then pushed my head to the right armpit and held it there with his other hand. He didn't have to worry about me pulling away but a few minutes later I did sink to my knees. I pushed my nose into the crotch of his shorts. He was half hard. I started mouthing his cock through them. 'No,' he said, pushing me away.

'Please, sir?' I pleaded.

'Finish your work,' he said. I whimpered and crawled into the lounge, dragging a bin liner with me. I gathered all the lager cans and emptied the cannabis ash out of the ashtray. He sat back in his recliner and put on headphones. I walked the bin bags out to the alley where he'd fucked me a week earlier. Charlie was sitting in the recliner with his eyes closed when I came back, nodding along with whatever he was listening to through the headphones. I started the laundry in the washer, then vacuumed the carpet as it ran, all except in the room Charlie had warned me off from. When I was done and put everything away except the wash still running in the kitchen, I returned to the lounge and knelt beside him. He touched a button on the headphones and took them off.

'About time,' he said. 'I've been bursting for a slash.' He got up and beaconed me to follow. I crawled after him to the bathroom. 'Suit and shoes off,' he said. I shrugged out of the jacket and shucked the trousers down as I toed off my shoes. He glimpsed the jockstrap through my shirt tails as I wriggled; he reached over and lifted them up. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me round, bending me over the sink. 'Fuck, fagboy. You must really want me back in there,' he said.

'Yes, please, sir.' I felt his hands on my buttocks. I could see his face in the mirror. He was looking down at my arse uncertainly, thoughtfully, kneading it with his fingers. At last he shook his head.

He clicked his fingers and pointed to the bath. I got in, then knelt when he clicked and pointed again.

'I haven't marked you properly yet,' he said.

'No, sir,' I murmured.

'Ask me,' he said.

'Please piss on me, sir,' I said. 'Please mark your property.'

He stepped over and pushed his shorts to the floor. His cock was half hard and it took a minute to get the flow started. Four lagers and whatever he'd drunk before the football outside began spraying out. He aimed at the chest of my shirt, then down my torso and legs. My ex, Jack, had pissed on me, too. I liked the feeling if it weren't for the smell. Charlie raised the stream to my face and hair. I closed my eyes and bent my head. Then, on impulse, I did something I'd never done for Jack: I lifted my face and opened my mouth. I reached up to wipe my eyes and opened them. Charlie was looking intensely at me, then he aimed the flow into it. It filled and I swallowed.

'Fuck,' Charlie said hoarsely. He didn't move the stream and I swallowed another mouthful, then another. He was getting fully hard, though, and the flow weakened, then tapered off. 'Do you know how much it burns pissing through a hard on?' he asked. I nodded. 'Take off the rest,' he said. He turned and picked up my suit jacket, the driest and cleanest thing left of what I'd worn. He handed it to me. 'Pat yourself dry with that, then hang everything on the balcony line. Shut the door after so the stink doesn't blow in,' he said.

I stood and began blotting my hair and skin so I didn't drip. 'Er,' I said, gesturing down to my pale, naked, shorn body. His eyes narrowed; he didn't care who saw me like that. I looked away and began wringing the piss out of my shirt, socks, and jockstrap. I wiped my feet dry before putting them on the floor tiles I'd just mopped, then carried everything to the balcony. It couldn't have been later than six or so, the sun edging towards the horizon, but the balcony was at least east-facing so in the shade. I was in the block looking over the street, I realised; I could see the bus stop a bit down the road as I stepped naked onto the balcony, turned my bare arse out to it, and hung my piss-drenched clothes on the line. Well, the trousers weren't drenched with piss, just sweat and a gallon of precum. I stepped back in and closed the glass door.

Charlie was still naked and hard standing in the lounge. He pointed to his feet and I knelt. He held his cock up with his left hand and used his right to move me down to his balls. I moaned and licked them, relishing the scent and flavour that had built up there. I moved to the side and tasted the crease where his leg met his body; it was all so salty and funky. I was fucking slurping on his skin; my mouth was drooling.

He pushed me away and lowered his cock. 'Just the knob,' he said. I wrapped my lips round it and ran my tongue over it, then under the foreskin, tasting old piss, stale precum, and him. I suckled like a baby at a teat.

'Fuck!' he yelled after a moment and pushed me away. I didn't understand. What was I doing wrong? 'Come,' he beaconed. I crawled after him towards his bedroom. He went in and grabbed a handful of cable ties from a drawer. He came out and pushed me down to the floor in the airing cupboard. He quickly secured my wrists together behind me, then my ankles, then each set together so I was hogtied on my chest.

'What's wrong?' I asked. 'What did I do?'

'Shut up!' he hissed. He disappeared and returned with the football shorts he'd stripped off in the bathroom. He shoved them in my mouth crotch first, then closed the door. It was dark other than a strip of light above the floor. I heard the shower, then silence other than his footsteps. After what felt like hours, the door opened and he stood in front of me. I looked up to see him dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved blue henley. He looked fucking gorgeous; he was wearing aftershave or cologne that complimented his body wash so he smelled fucking gorgeous, too. He bent over me and pulled the shorts out of my mouth. He had a bottle of water; he opened it and lowered it to my mouth. I drank copiously. Apart from the mouthfuls of piss in the shower and some spit, I hadn't drunk anything since I'd left home hours before. He pulled the bottle away almost empty. He shoved the shorts back in and closed the door. 'Not a fuckin' sound,' he said. 'Not a fuckin' sound till I let you out.' I heard him walk away, then the light went out and the front door opened and closed.

It really did feel like hours then, in the relative silence and dwindling ambient light from the floor. It didn't take long, or it didn't seem long, before my arms and legs began to ache. For a while I could hear distant thumping of bass. As time went on it stopped and I imagined I could hear traffic on the road through the open windows. No windows in the airing cupboard, though, just whiffs of breeze under the door.

I must have dozed off because I awoke to the sound of voices. It must have late; there was no light under the door anymore. There was Charlie's voice. Then a laugh. High. Feminine. The front door opened and the light came on. Their footsteps moved to the lounge.

The conversation was vapid, vacuous; gossip about people and places I'd never heard of, things that had happened -- or rumours of them -- that meant nothing to me. It was mercifully short, until it was cruelly replaced by the unmistakable sounds of snogging. Kissing. Low murmurs. Then the sound of fasteners unfastening, clothes coming off.

'Fuck!' Charlie said over a background of slurping. He was getting a blowjob! A blowjob from a girl! I wanted to grunt in protest but I remembered his warning: not a sound.

'Oi, watch the teeth!' he said. Smugness filled me. She wasn't as good as me.

'Sorry, Charlie, it's just so thick,' she simpered.

'Just... fuckin' watch 'em,' he said. I could hear his frustration. More slurping. I felt myself getting hard. I couldn't help it. I was imagining myself making those noises. Myself sucking on his cock. I could take it without teeth, dammit! I could take it to the base! Could this slut do that?

At last I heard familiar grunting. He was cumming. He was shooting in her mouth. She was moaning. FUCK! I wanted that load!

And then I heard her spit. My eyes widened in disbelief. She spat it out? How could she waste that nectar? Charlie was going to murder her!

But he didn't. 'You know,' he panted, 'swallowing it won't kill you. You could at least try it one of these times.'

'Ergh, it tastes gross,' she said.

'Well you've already tasted it whether you spit it out or not,' he answered.

'Ergh,' she repeated. 'It feels gross, too, all thick and slimy. You've never had to taste it, Charlie, you don't know what it's like.'

'No I haven't and no I don't,' he said indifferently. 'I know some people like it, though.'

'Well you should...' she started, then cut herself off.

'I should get someone who likes it to suck me off?' he asked.

'No, Charlie, no, I didn't mean that,' she said hastily. 'I'll suck you off. I'll try to swallow it next time.'

'Heard that before,' he said.

'Come on, why don't you fuck me?' she asked. 'You know you like that.'

'Yeah,' he said.

'NO!' I screamed. In my head. 'No, he likes fucking me!'

I heard footsteps and realised they were walking to his bedroom. The light went off as they passed. The bedroom door closed but it didn't muffle the sound of the bed creaking, the headboard knocking the wall, or her squeals of pleasure. I actually started to cry. I wanted to be in his bed! I wanted to be making those noises! I wanted him inside me!

I didn't notice when the sounds ended but there was a long period of silence after I'd stopped crying. I'd almost dozed off again when I heard soft footsteps pass the door, then return and open it. It was Charlie, naked in the dark, silhouetted against the dim, ambient light from the lamps outside filtering through the open windows. 'Not a sound,' he whispered as he bent and cut the cable ties tying my wrists and ankles with scissors. He pulled me to my feet and pushed a bundle of stinking fabric into my arms. My piss-drenched clothes, now dry. Of course the girl wouldn't have seen them on the balcony now that it was dark outside. He guided me to the front door. 'Wait. Your shoes.'

He went back to the bathroom. He glanced at me, then darted to the side towards his bedroom. He came back, opened the door, and pushed me out, naked, into the amber sodium safety lighting. He put my shoes on the floor beside me. 'A present,' he said, pushing something cold and wet into my hand. The white of his teeth flashed in the moonlight as he smirked. Then he closed the door, leaving me naked outside. I dropped my clothes and looked at what he'd handed me. A condom. I could see a shot glass worth of cum and more swishing inside.

His fucking condom! That he fucked HER with? I stared at it, then at the door. It dawned on me that he'd only kept me there as backup in case he didn't pull. As if he ever wouldn't. Who would ever turn him down? And then I realised I was hard. I heard murmuring through the open bedroom window, the curtains swaying in the breeze.

'Just needed a piss,' I heard him say.

'You want me to suck it again?' she asked. 'You wanna fuck me again?' she slurred sleepily.

'Nah, you're all right,' he said wearily. 'Go back to sleep.'

He doesn't want her anymore, I thought. I suddenly felt the devil inside me and I smiled. I tilted my face up and poured his load into my mouth. I threw the empty condom over the railing to the yard below before I dressed in my rank-smelling clothes but I didn't swallow until I'd walked back to the bus stop.

[Continued.]