199n
*** had passed out as I was trying it on with her. (An equal and apposite reaction, I suppose). So I was left in the room, drinking beer. It was a hot, hot night and the air was heavy, and fat, and sticky. I could feel the night running over my skin. It was as sticky as cum.

T***, A*** and J****, my friends (the alcoholics synonymous) came around to see me. I was pleased to see them, because all I had been doing was sitting on my own, cross-legless, and frustrated; The heat was sucking the beer out of me faster than I could drink it. We played cards and then we went to a party J**** had heard his friend was DJing at. The party was in a large flat. There were cushions and pillows scattered along the edges of the sweating brick walls and a DJ was playing dance tunes. I could smell expensive weed, and sweat, and beer and something else. The air hung as if it was stoned. Beer was in crates on the floor and by the wall opposite the front door, a girl sat astride a chap. He was half sitting on the floor and she was on top of him, her back to him.

The air was cloying and the smoke was cool. The music was disorienting me. I thought of *** back home, sprawled like a shipwreck, asleep. The path between her bedroom door and her soft bed was strewn with her clothes, thrown down like drunken confessions. I thought of her clothes and I thought of her white skin, fat and glistening in her dirty bed and I felt hotter. I thought of the ash in the ashtray by her bed, and the way her triangle of hair looked in the nigh time.

"Look at that." T*** said. "He's fucking her with his cock". He said it flat and matter of fact as if it were as boring as last week's lower division football results. I could see the girl, grinding slowly on the boy. She had long brown hair and soft brown eyes and half of me wished she didn't have her long dress where it was, over her legs and over the crotch of the boy, and half of me was glad she did. She was rocking slowly, as if to the beat of the music. But I could see that it wasn't the music which was rocking her.

It wasn't that at all. And I felt a long, long way from Anglia.

The boy was skinning up as he fucked her slow and even, and everyone else was too cool to openly stare. But I did. I could feel the sweat on the collar of my white shirt as I drank a big pull of beer. He was still moving, languid and arrogant. I reckon I'd have finished by now. The girl brushed her hair back from her face and I saw her looking at me. Not quickly enough, or too quickly, I looked down at my trainers. I wore the same type of clothes as everyone else, but I still felt alone. I couldn't work it out. A heavy second later I looked back. She was still looking at me. I looked at her. From the corner of my eye I could see that the boy had finished skinning up. He put one hand soft up her blouse and I could see where it stopped. Despite the heat, with every breath I remembered to take, I shivered. I stared at the girl, and I could just tell the girl was staring at me. I just could.

I felt like a peasant confronted by the lady of the manor on horseback. The music was hypnotic. My friends had wandered off. There was just him, her and me. He was still moving inside her as he smoked the spliff. I felt the sweat on my collar. He started to move faster. In the morning there would be a line of grime where my skin had touched the fabric. A mark to prove I'd been here. He passed the spliff to her and started moving faster. I could see her face and I could see her bare feet. Her toes were clenched. I watched as she toked. The air was hot and still. Faster. The end of the joint was hot and red and angry. As red as my vision. I felt the cold bottle of beer in my hand. I could feel the sweat on the bottle evaporating. I could feel the heat in the room. He was making long, fast movements and she looked at me and I looked at her and saw the way she moved on him. The windows were open but there was no draft. I took a pull of my beer and felt it wash around my teeth and down my tight throat. She looked as if she gasped, but the music and the thumping in my ears made it impossible to hear. I saw her toes unclench. She smoothed her skirt down with her free hand. I was hoping for some of her spliff. In my head she passed me the slpiff and I tasted her saliva on the end. In reality, A*** threw a beer can which bounced off my head. "Mon." he said. "S boring. We're going to play snooker". Sometimes, I really hated my friends, and sometimes I really loved them.
(sirolimus, Mon 15 Oct 2007, 11:46, 2 replies)

hmmm
I don't know, just liked this one..
( fsugirl613 is going to kill Mr. Right, Tue 16 Oct 2007, 3:46, closed)

Excellent
You certainly write my favourite QOTW answers. More please.
(F1Monkey, Tue 16 Oct 2007, 14:20, closed)