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Hannah is self-conscious, but her brother comforts her.

I tie up my dog outside. I go in and buy six cans of Stella, a Cornish pasty and milk for when I sober up and want tea or coffee, wondering when that will be. I leave the shop and untie my dog, he wags his tail and we walk toward pond Street. We walk past busy cafes and a pub. Folk are laughing and smiling, happy to be alive on such a lovely day. We pass the Royal Free Hospital and track down fleet road and past a fish 'n' chip shop, the smell of fried fish makes me hungry, "later perhaps," I tell myself. We cut off Fleet Road and past another busy pub and walk through a small wood which leads me to the estate where I live. I open my front door and I'm home. I let my dog off the lead and he gulps down water. I crack open a can of Stella and put the rest in the fridge. I sit in the garden and drink my can. I have the house to myself for two weeks, I'm into the second week now. I live with my mum, it's her house and she's on holiday with friends.

The garden looked colourful in the afternoon sun. There were birds chatting and bees buzzing and annoying flies scooting about. The neighbour was having a Bar-B-Q and it smelled great, it made me feel hungry and went to the kitchen and opened up my Cornish pasty. I put it on a plate and cut it into three sections, arranging the slices side by side on the plate. I coated one slice with brown sauce, the next with ketchup and the third slice with Coleman's English mustard and took my lunch back into the garden and ate it greedily, it was gone in two minutes, I was hungrier than I thought. I got back up and went into the kitchen put the plate into the sink and grabbed another can of Stella and the radio. I plugged in the radio and put it next to an open window, switched it on and cranked up the volume, I sat back in the garden and drank Stella, listening to Magic FM.

The cans of Stella soon went. I must have been drunk because I was singing loudly along with "Hard Habit to Break," by Chicargo, and a tear ran down my face, "Fuck!" I said and wiped the tear. It wasn't long after I polished off the last can of Stella and staggered to the shop to get more alcohol, only this time I bought a bottle of Glens vodka and a carton of cheap orange juice. Time was creeping by and it was heading into early evening time. I was drunk and started thinking about women. I always get horny when I'm drunk, but I'm a horny bastard when I'm sober too, so what's new. When I was working and had a little extra money, I would seek out a prostitute when I was drunk. But I never had the extra cash today.

I topped up my vodka and went upstairs to my room and opened up my lap top and searched out free porn. My cock went hard when the pictures of naked women came up. I flipped through the selections and picked out a slim black lady with tight black hair, fat red lips and white teeth. Her tits were big for her size and had black nipples. I loosened off my jeans. She was being fucked by a white guy. I looked for a guy with a cock about the same size as mine.

I pulled my jeans down to my knees and dropped my boxer shorts. My cock was at full stretch and spitting a little cum. I took it and wanked as the guy fucked the black lady. I put it on pause and plugged in headphones and put them on my head. I took it off pause and she screamed into my ears. "Yes," she said. "Fuck me hard. Yes, yes. Harder. Mmmmm! Mmmmm! Yeah! Yeah!" I wanked harder and I wanted to feel what they were feeling, wanting so much to be there, to be a part of it. I put it on pause and pulled up my boxer shorts and jeans. I headed out of the bedroom but was pulled back, I took off the headphones and threw them on the bed and rushed down the stairs.

I didn't want to lose the mood or go off the boil.

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