Chapter 41

The sun beat down from a wide, blue sky, weaving between chipped-concrete tower blocks. Chained dogs barked at pigeons in neighbouring yards. Horns beeped at junctions and music blared from windows. The city hummed with its own sense of continual, chaotic energy. So many people rubbing up against and colliding with each other in these rough and tumble surrounds. Yet, in that one yard. Behind a barely noticeable little shop with a half-shuttered, dirt-smeared window. You were colliding with your own step-father. Feeling the fleshy pillar which once belonged to your mother, now pumping into you. None of them would be able to tell, you were sure… Thinking of the multiple, unseen onlookers that must be able to lean out of their balcony windows and smoke cheap cigarettes while watching the little whore-boy get fucked again. Maybe half of them hadn't even worked out that you had been born a boy at all.

None of it really bothered you much, anymore. The constant worries about what everyone else thought of you had shrank down and condensed. Now you only cared whether the person currently fucking you was enjoying it. You lived for the sound of their grunting breaths. The rippling shake of their thrusts through your entire body. The intense opening and closing feeling where the tip of them spilled in and out of your puckered star, and that deep, inner churning sensation where each invasion passed your prostate. There was a freedom to it... Letting your body just buck its slender hips back upon every fleshy meeting. A sense of giving yourself over to a realm of pure, innocent physicality. Your basest humanity didn’t care what clothes you wore or what role you were supposed to play. It didn’t care who this man was, or whether he deserved to take pleasure from you like this. It was just a **** to the intensity of sensation that these precious moments throughout your day provided. You knew, now… what your step-sister had been trying to give you all this time: Not a freedom in that others would stop taking advantage of your all-too-eager-to-please nature. But a freedom to just say ‘fuck it!’ and throw yourself into the den of wolves, then revel in the experience.

Perhaps it was not the most healthy option… psychologically or physically. However, it was one you could choose for yourself and then ride the wave of. Wearing whatever made you feel like an exposed wire and sexy. Doing whatever the world you’d come from really thought you shouldn’t. It was a dirty, grimy, disorganised and chaotic lifestyle. But it was yours and it fit in with everything else going on in this crazy, bustling part of town… just fine. People knew you around here now. Street sellers gave you little gifts of food when you passed. Working boys offered a wolf-whistle or a little squeeze on the bum as they scuffled over who could try and chat you up. Whether they meant it as a joke, or not, they weren’t cruel about it. You were part of the streets and scenery, the shapes and stories of this place. None of it was anywhere near so cold and clinical, so callous and shallow… as the circles your parents still lived in.

Your step-father finished inside of you… It was a little early, to be honest. A little disappointing. You had been a little too tangled up in realising how little his opinion might mean to you anymore… to enjoy the taboo reality of being fucked by him. As he pulled out, a little of his semen dripped out of you onto the concrete. Several of your other skimpy outfits were hanging out to dry, nearby. They flapped loosely in the breeze. He rocked back, panting, onto his heels.

“That was… hmm… I needed that…”

You turned around and hopped yourself up to sit on the arm of the couch… offering small, teasing glimpses of your own penis under the skirt, and giving your asshole a few moments to close up.

“I’ll come back… Now and then… When I can.” He stumbled through his words, caught up in a way you’d never thought he could be. You nodded, non committedly.

“Marie’s been… different, since…” Your mother’s name barely registered. You didn’t care much about her, either. You just stared at him with those big, round eyes. Did he know? Or didn’t he?

“I’ll... let myself out.” He murmured, just starting to regain the pomp which you were sure would be back at full blast by the time he reached the street. You watched him do up his fly and head back through the shop. While you sat in the sun for a while… and just listened to the city.

When you headed back into the corridor, Jenny’s gangbang had just finished up. Four men came out of the door ahead of you and ruffled your hair as they too, turned to leave. You slipped in to where they’d come from, and cuddled up to the cum-smeared remains of your step-sister. They’d clearly gone at it hard… even by her standards. She was a dribbling, barely-conscious wreck of a teenage cocksleeve. She knew your gentle touch though… and leaned in for a kiss.

You didn’t tell her who had come calling. It would only make her angry. She wasn’t ready to forgive and forget, quite yet. The pair of you just lay together, sticky and sweaty and slimy… as you so often ended up by this point in the day. Upstairs thumps and creaking floorboards made it hard to tell whether the father and step-daughter duo were fighting or fucking. Both scenarios amounted to the same thing, really. That was what love meant, to them.

You might have dozed off… but a sound echoed out, dredging you back to the present. The bell in the shop had rung again. One or the pair of you were wanted.