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Bent Fiction – New Year’s Eve


By Les Lea


New Year’s Eve in the town where I live is not very exciting. A trip to the pub or a taxi ride to the next town to visit the only club in the area is often the only options. Last year I could have stayed in but the telly was crap – who the hell wants to watch another Jools Holland Hootenanny or watch that final countdown into another year? It’s all far too depressing so my option was to go for a drink at the local pub. A couple of my mates said they would probably be there and one said that he knew of a party we could go to afterwards. Therefore, it was settled, a few pints then on to this party and the New Year could take care of itself. The Crown was packed and it was like an obstacle course getting to and from the bar, still it was lively, noisy and folk seemed to be enjoying themselves. I was on nodding terms with a couple of the bar staff but they were so busy I only had a chance to grab a drink and then they were on to the next customer. I found my way to the back of the pub but the only space was near the toilet and the door that led to the outside smoking area. Unfortunately, from where I was I couldn’t see the main door but assumed my mates would find me once they arrived. However, I did find a pleasant distraction watching some of the guys going to and from the loo. It was more fun than I thought it was going to be and as there was a constant stream (sorry) I got to see a few nice arses disappear into the bog. There were certainly some spunky young hunks in the bar and seeing them come out still zipping up, or forgetting to close the ‘barn door’, made for the occasional mouth-watering view. It was getting late, my mates still hadn’t arrived, and to make matters worse I was drinking more quickly than I normally do. Now I’m not a big drinker and six pints, in such a short space of time, is quite a lot for me but I felt OK. However, the result was I desperately needed a piss myself.

A guy who I thought I recognised joined me at the urinal and before I knew it, I’d said “Hi” and we were chatting. In fact it turned out he was one of the builders who recently repaired a wall outside my home that had been knocked down when a car had crashed into it. The two guys who came to do the rebuilding were both quite good-looking and hunky so, I’d made them a cup of tea while they went about their business. They were both polite and thanked me for my kindness and I have to say that once back in my home I had a stiffy from just that brief meeting. Anyway, here was one of them standing next to me, taking a leak and chatting quite amiably about how busy the bar was and what the night had to offer.

To this day, I have no idea how I managed to pluck up the courage but with a look, a nod and a suggestive smile I ended up on my knees in front of that builder. The drink most certainly had some influence but also the man was just a heap of sexual, lethal potency. He was a total man who I was pleading, yes, actually pleading with to stuff me senseless there and then. We had moved from the toilet, out the back, past the smokers and found a darkened corner in the pub’s ramshackle backyard. I must have noticed his cock as we chatted in the bog, it was quite big and as we talked, I noticed he hadn’t put it away and it was getting bigger. To me, in my alcoholic state, I must have taken this as an invitation and one he was happy to accept, or exploit my drunkenness. Anyway, once in the yard he seemed to enjoy the problem I had getting his cock down my throat, calling me names and slapping my face a bit… sad to say it was all turning me on. After I had gagged a few times, he manoeuvred me over to this rather clapped out old car and pushed me sprawled across the bonnet. I felt my jeans being pulled down to my ankles then he ripped my little nylon briefs apart to leave me bare-assed. I heard him rubbering up and felt him spit a couple of times against my tight hole. He laughed as he said that maybe my throat couldn’t take it but he would make fucking sure my arse would. So there I was with midnight fast approaching being stuffed in the night air, over a wrecked Volvo, which had no tyres and was held up by bricks. Back in the pub, I could hear them counting down to the New Year – 3, 2, 1… Happppy Neeeew Yeeeeaaar. Suddenly the heavens became a host of noise and colour as fireworks accompanied the din of Auld Lang Syne coming from the bar. We were now visible to anyone who cared to look but that didn’t stop me grunting through a very uncomfortable shag. Although, that painful fact didn’t stop me cumming twice as he kept up a hefty rhythm for about fifteen minutes. My full, milky, explosive orgasms dripped off the rusting car bonnet, only to pool in my ripped underpants bunched around my ankles. I never met up with my mates either but (confession time), I had always wanted to have sex from one year into the next so, thanks to my builder; the night wasn’t a total waste.