Date: Wed, 20 Nov 2013 19:41:04 +0000
From: Marcus DaCosta <marcusdacosta@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Curtis Seduces - Chapter 6 (adult-youth)

CURTIS SEDUCES

This is the story of a teenage boy on his journey of self-discovery as he
engages on sexual experiences with various adult males. If this is not your
thing, or is illegal to read where you are, please click the exit
button. Otherwise enjoy. I appreciate your comments, instructions and
participation as the journey progresses. Details at the bottom. All usual
nifty pre-ambles and legal bits apply.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

RECAP:

My phone pinged, it was Dwayne. 'I keep watchin dat video fam, I never knew
Gary was a battyman'.

I replied. 'He's not, I talked him into it fam, and b4 u ask, I'm not a
battyman either'.

'So wat u fucking Gary for then?'

'I see it like a game cuz' I said, 'I'll explain tomorrow when I see u
bro'.

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CHAPTER 6:

I lay there relaxing on my bed wearing my Calvin Classic boxers, listening
to an old mix-tape of 90's slow jams that my mum must have made at some
point. I carefully removed centre pages from my English exercise book, by
prizing open the staples, taking the page out, and then closing the staples
back up again. I wrote in bold letters `Amelia Sanderson', left two lines
and then wrote `Tabita Mbwana', I repeated the process writing `Jade
Duckett', `Fiona Cox' and `Bekki Lewis' respectively.  This was the list of
girls that might be pregnant. According to Mr. Wilde, two of them ARE
pregnant, and probably, although not definitely, by me. I knew it had to be
two of these girls, as I had not slept with Louise or any other girls from
Keynsham Academy for ages and Mr. Wilde had hinted the two pregnant girls
could still have an abortion if they chose to. Also, there is no way it
could have been Jadine Cartwright because almost the whole school knows
about the hilarious accident she had with her tampon the other week. If it
was Amelia, of course that means that Mr. Wilde could be the father, and
surely he would have insisted on an abortion? And would probably not have
told me, so she was unlikely, but not entirely out of the running. I
wracked my brains trying to think of ways to help me investigate the
matter. The thought of being a father did not really scare me, I am good
with kids and pretty resourceful, but it was obvious that whoever the
mothers are; they either don't know whether I'm the father, or don't want
me to know, so thoughts of `happily ever after' were unrealistic. I was
also not enjoying the thought of having to face the girl's fathers,
especially if it is Tabita, whose dad, Charles is a strictly religious
African patriarchal type of man, who insists on his daughters remaining
virgins until they are married. If he finds out that I have been fucking
her, I will probably be forced to pay a `bride-price' of 14 cows and 20
goats or some shit.

While deliberating, I heard the door slam downstairs. I glanced at my phone
to check the time. `Where is mum going at ten-thirty?' I thought, before
realising that it was someone arriving, not someone leaving.

"Oh shit", I said aloud as I realised that my father had turned up. My
father, Marques, spelled Marques, but pronounced `Mark', treats our house
like a pit-stop. He turns up unannounced, stays a few hours or maybe a few
days, and then leaves again like the wind, taking as much food, money and
stuff as he can carry with him, and leaving my mum deflated and
heart-broken time after time.  I silently opened my door, crept half way
down the stairs and sat down so that I could listen to the lying bastard
sweet-talk my poor bi-polar-suffering mum, flattering his way into her bed
again.

"My sexy momma, I dun miss ya". The words dripped out of his mouth like
poison, but she was unable to resist, hypnotised by her memories of their
once genuine love-affair.

"Where have you been, baby?" She asked him innocently

"Here and der, my sugar, getting work where I can", he lied, "but now I
finally come home to my sweet baby-cakes".

"Oh, Marques", she melted into his arms, and kissed him passionately. "Are
you gonna stay this time".

"Of course my love", he lied, "I'm back for good ya nah".

I returned to my room as I did not want to hear their love-making. Although
my mum was a willing participant, he was basically raping her with his lies
and the promises that he had no intention of fulfilling. I wish I could do
something to make her understand that he will not change. I fully intend to
put him in his place when I turn 18, or even sooner if I get bigger than
him before that. He is a 6 foot strapping man, much stronger and more
muscular than he ought to be considering his `shameless' work and exercise
habits. His slightly greying dreadlocks smell as unclean as his morality,
and reach half way down his back. He is 46 years of age, with the care-free
and blasé attitude of a teenage boy. I turned my music up slightly to
drown out the sound of his grunting and my mums `whooping' as he banged her
all the way to bliss, which would be closely followed by her plunging back
into a relapse of depression, such is the nature of her bi-polar.

Ten minutes passed and my mum ran into my room, not stopping to knock as
usual "Baby, come downstairs" she said with the excitement of a child on
Christmas Eve. She had not noticed that her nighty was tucked into her
knickers at the front.

"Ma", I pointing at her nighty.

"Curtis, baby", she continued, un-tucking her nighty from her knickers,
"Your father has come home baby, please come down and greet him and I will
prepare us something to eat, do you want something to eat Curtis?"

"We've already eaten, mum" I reminder her, "Remember you cooked me a lovely
meal already ma, there are left-overs in the fridge, you can warm some up
for Marques".

"His name is DAD", she emphasised, clearly disappointed in my reluctance to
come and see my father.

"Tell HIM that", I pointed out. "When has HE been a dad to me?" I asked.

"Well baby, he is home now", she insisted "It's a fresh start for all of
us". She smiled at me lovingly.

For her sake alone, I stood up and followed her out of my room, without
getting dressed. Before we reached the bottom of the stairs, Marques darted
out of the front door carrying two large blue IKEA bags of things that he
had not arrived with. He stopped momentarily to look at me as I walked
slowly down the stairs. Nodded, as though his entire parental duty could be
fulfilled in a nod, and with that he was gone.  My mum ran outside into the
street screaming after him.

"Marques, Marques, come back darling", she pleaded as he rushed out of
sight. "Marques, come back" she continued, sounding as though she were
blaming herself for his departure. "Marques", her voice tapered off as she
sunk to her knees in the middle of the road. A few lights had gone on in
neighbouring houses, and several curtains were twitching. I walked out into
the middle of the road, bent down and put my arms around her; she tilted
her head into my chest and wept as though mourning.  Suddenly she
switched. She threw my arm off her shouting "Get your fucking black hands
off me, you bastard". Delegating the blame she had previously apportioned
to herself in my direction. I was not offended by the racist rant that
followed. I knew it was her condition speaking, not hear heart. She tore
about the street like the mad woman that she was before returning into the
house. Nobody had come out to assist. Nobody gives a fuck about anybody
these days.

I followed her back into the house, closing the door to the outside world
behind me, and found her destroying everything she could lay her hands on,
she had upturned all of the furniture, thrown the TV off its stand, pulled
the pictures off of the wall, and was in the process of smashing things
against the wall, cups, plates, ornaments and glasses. I waited for her to
calm down a bit, before grabbing her and holding her two wrists. "I love
you, ma", I said. "I love you, ma".

Eventually she `heard' me, and snapped out of her frenzy. She cuddled me,
looking around the room saying "What have I done?"

"Don't worry ma", I said, "We'll sort it out tomorrow". I coerced her up to
her room, helped her into bed, went downstairs and made her us both a cup
of cocoa, and sat on the side of her bed as she drank it. She laid down and
closed her eyes, weeping. I stroked her hair until she fell asleep, before
returning to my own bedroom and climbing into bed.

I lay there feeling deep anger for my father. I hated that man with violent
passion. `One day', I thought to myself, `one fucking day'.  I turned my
phone off, not wanting to talk to anybody, and eventually falling asleep.

It was 4 in the morning when a tap at my bedroom door woke me out of my
sleep. I rushed out of bed concerned that my mum might be having
nightmares. I opened the bedroom door and said "You ok ma?"

"Yes baby," she replied, "could you come downstairs and have a word with
the police officer".

"What police officer?" I asked, assuming her to be confused or
hallucinating.

"We've been burgled while we were sleeping baby", she reported, completely
straight faced.

"Have we?" I asked.

"Yes baby", she replied, "Come and see the state of the living room". Mum
had blocked the events of the previous evening out of her mind with such
skill, that, when popping downstairs in the night to get a glass of water,
and being confronted with the mess, she jumped to the conclusion that they
must have been burgled. I smiled to myself at her innocence, and followed
her downstairs.

A young police constable was sitting on a stool in the kitchen drinking a
cup of coffee. As I walked into the kitchen behind my mother, dazed and
half-asleep, and wearing only my grey boxers. I noticed him look me up and
down, unconsciously, licking his lips as he did.

"Hello officer", I said, giving him my hand and setting a seductive look in
my eyes. He shook my hand firmly, and looked away from my eye-contact as
though embarrassed. "I swear that the police don't normally attend
situations like this in the middle of the night", I quizzed him.

"You're right mate", he confirmed, staring at my abs, which I began to
caress he looked, "but according to the operator, your mother sounded
particularly distressed, so my superintendant insisted that I attend
immediately".

"Well thanks for coming officer", I winked at him, licking my lips as I
continued, "Would it be possible if we have a word in private".

"Sure, mate" He said, acknowledging by the tone of his voice, that my
mother was not well, and was possibly confused about what had occurred.

I turned to my mum and said "Ma, I will sort this out with the officer, you
go back to bed, ok".

"OK baby" she replied, but in her confusion began to put the clean mugs
from the cupboard into the dishwasher.

The officer followed me out of the kitchen, along the hallway, pausing at
the bottom of the stairs as I bounded up them, as though deliberating
whether or not he should follow me to my bedroom. I think it was curiosity
that motivated him to proceed. He walked into my room, and I closed the
door behind him.

"How old are you, mate?" he asked me.

"Nineteen" I lied, partly in the hope that nineteen was a sufficient age to
cause him no moral dilemma if I was able to seduce him, and partly to stop
him reporting us to social services, which he would have done if he had
known I was only 14, as he had clearly clocked how mentally ill my mother
is. I proceeded to make up a story about how I had had an argument with my
father, and that it was the argument that had caused the mess. I told him
that my mother had been out when the argument occurred, and that as she had
arrived home late, she had gone straight to her room, not having
opportunity to discover it last night. I told him that nothing was missing,
and that I would clean it up and explain it to all to my mother when she
was better. I thought to provoke him to confirm that he had not found any
evidence of a break-in at any of the doors or windows. The officer was
satisfied that my story was sufficient for his paper-work, although I don't
think he actually believed a word of it, probably partly due to my apparent
desperation in getting him to believe my story. Anyway, once he had put his
notebook and pen away I asked him, "What's your name, officer?"

"Dave", he answered.

"Well, PC Dave", I mocked his informality "How old are YOU?"

"Twenty-One" He replied.

"Oh, your only two years older than me", I lied, "I don't remember you from
school, I'd have thought I'd have remembered a `pretty-boy like you" I
complimented him.

"I moved here, when I got the job", PC Dave explained, slightly backing off
from my advance, "so I didn't school around here".

PC Dave's radio `spoke to him', checking to see if he was in need of
assistance.

"No sir, everything is fine here, although I may be here for sometime,
over". Dave stated.

"OK, good, over" the voice said.

I took PC Dave's statement that he was `going to be quite a while yet' as
the green light that I needed to bank NUMBER 6.  I looked him up and
down. He was a clean-shaven, smooth faced, boyish looking officer, with
blue glistening eyes, and an amazing smile. He was about 5 foot 10, a few
inches taller than me, and he looked so authoritative in his uniform with
his radio and his truncheon hanging from his belt. I decided not to beat
around the bush, but to jump in at the deep end. If I had got this wrong,
and he was not up for it, I would admit to being fourteen, and force him
into silence.  As I concluded looking him up and down, I noticed that he
was also looking me up and down, his gaze lingering at my boxers. "Sit
down" I ordered him. He looked at me, as though looking for permission to
obey the order that I had just given. I looked away, allowing him to make
his own decision. He sat down on my bed. I separated his knees with one of
my legs, and moved to stand between them so that my abs were very close to
his face. He instinctively put his hands on my bum and pushed my boxers
down to the floor. It was all that I could do not to spring to erection,
but I wanted to provoke HIM to do the work. My dick hung there in front of
his face, it was thick, full and although slightly chubbed up was still
hanging down.

He looked like a rabbit in the headlights, but had come too far to back
down now. He reached out and took my dick in his hand. "I ain't done this
since a drunken dare in sixth-form" he said. "And that was to a dick less
that half this size".

"Done what?" I mocked.

"Touched someone's dick of course" PC Dave replied.

`Oh' I thought, slightly disappointed. "Are you not gonna suck it?" I
asked.

"SUCK IT?" came the stunned reply.

`What the fuck did he think was happening' I thought, my dick was by now at
seventy-five percent strength, so I jumped up onto my tip-toes, forcing it
between his lips. He looked away, still holding it, thought for a minute,
then with a quiet "fuck it", he opened his lips and took a dick into his
mouth for the first time in his 21 years. I heard him breathe in through
his nose, relishing the scent of puberty, he was bobbing up and down on the
end three or four inches of my now-rock-hard dick. It seemed that I had
unleashed a long-pent-up desire. He laid hold of my ass firmly with both
hands, and tried to deep-throat me too soon, spluttering at his first few
attempts, but managing to take more and more of my dick in as he improved
his technique. In his trance, he did not notice as I reached to the bedside
cabinet, picked up my phone and filmed a 10 second areal shot of my long
black dick sliding in and out of PC Dave's mouth, making sure to capture
his shoulder number at the end of the clip. I threw the phone on the bed
behind him and put my hands on the back of his head to that I could assist
the penetrative assault on his face, chuckling to myself that I could cause
GBH or ABH to his throat with such a large weapon.

Dave lay back on resting on his elbows, and I straddled his chest, kneeling
on the bed and leaning over him so that I could fuck his face hard. My dick
flew in and out of his mouth faster and faster. He was muttering, or
moaning inaudible words, but I was not able to fathom what he was saying as
I pounded his face. His radio began to sound, somebody was trying to get
hold of him. I could feel his attempt to remove my dick from his mouth, but
I held his head tighter onto me. The voice persisted in calling for him. I
was nearing orgasm, and hoped to hold him in place until I had finished. I
pumped harder and harder, force-feeding him, my balls slapping into his
chin with every intrusion. I could feel the tingling sensation in my balls
as they prepared to erupt. `PC 1237, please respond' the voice said. Dave
shook his head and backed off me "I have to take this" he apologised, as he
removed his head, he closed his lips tighter over my mushroom head forcing
me over the edge. As he `reported in', warm cum erupted from my hose and
landed all over his face, and lips. He licked his lips as he spoke to the
police operator.  I stood up, wiped the end of my dick, took a tissue and
passed it to him so that he could clean his face.

"Yes maam, right away", PC Dave responded to the voice and then turned to
me and said. "Duty calls mate, are you gonna be alright with your mum?"

"Yes, officer", I mocked, hurriedly putting my school uniform on in front
of him.

Dave went to leave, and then suddenly clocked my uniform as I was doing up
my tie. "Hold on mate, I thought you were nineteen", he said, sounding
worried.

"Would you have sucked my dick, if you knew I was fourteen?" I asked
sarcastically.

"I need to go, kid, but we need to talk about this, I will be back later,
don't tell a fucking soul". He pleaded.

"As if", I eased his worry.

Dave exited my room, ran down the stairs, putting his hat back on as he
went, and left the house without saying goodbye to my mum. I went
downstairs and found that my mum had cleaned up the living room, all of the
furniture was replaced, and the pictures were hanging back on the wall. She
was sweeping up the broken glass and crockery when she saw me come in.

"Sorry baby", she said, suggesting that she had remembered what had
happened. "He's a bastard, your dad" she said, and pulled me in for a hug.

"We've got each other ma", I said lovingly, "That's all we need". I helped
her sweep up, and took the rubbish out into the dust-bin, I checked the
kitchen and put the clean things from the dish-washer back into the
cupboard, and put the washing machine on and made us both a cup of tea, and
a slice of toast. I went back into the living room and lifted the TV back
onto its stand.

"Where is the police officer?" mum changed the subject, unintentionally.

"He was called out to another incident ma," I replied.

"Oh", she sounded surprised, "why was he here anyway baby?" For such a
disturbed woman, she was mightily skilled at forgetting things.

"He was just checking up on us, ma", I explained.

We sat down together on the couch, mum put her tea on the coffee table,
curled up next to me foetally and putting her head on my lap she began
singing softly `This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine'. She was
taking herself back to happier days; I remember her telling me that
Nana-Florence, Marques mum, used to sing that to me when she rocked me
asleep as a baby, when she visited us from Jamaica.

At 8-O-Clock, I left mum sleeping on the couch and cycled to school,
helping myself to a banana from the rack outside the corner-shop on the
way. As I cycled past the leisure centre, I saw the lifeguard getting out
of his car. I shouted at him "Yo, mate", raising my hand to acknowledge
him. He sheepishly looked left and right as though he had been caught out,
before waving back reluctantly. I took this as disrespect, and swung round
to go and confront him. I sped up, slamming my breaks on at the last minute
and causing my back wheel to slide around, to intimidate him. "Why you
being like that, bruv", I asked.

"Sorry buddy, no offence meant", he apologised. "I was just concerned that
somebody might have seen us".

"Seen us `waving good morning'?" I asked, "What the fuck is wrong with
saying good morning Antonio", I said reading the name badge on his polo
shirt.

"I don't remember telling you my name". He said softly.

"Do you remember getting dressed this morning?" I said, pointing to his
name-badge. He looked down at it, and I flicked my finger up the side of
his face. I winked at him, before cycling off at speed, satisfied that he
knows that `I'm the boss'.

As I cycled off, I looked behind, and noticed his girlfriend stepping out
of the car. `Oh, that is why he was nervous', I thought to myself. I slowed
down to watch as she began to question him about me, pointing in my
direction and raising her voice, not that she would have been suspicious of
any sexual activity, but she was certainly pissed that he had allowed a
youth to speak to him like that. He was less of a man in her eyes, and that
made me MORE of one. He knew it, and so did I. I carried on to school,
feeling like a boss, a feeling that was exacerbated when I spotted the
`yummy-mummy' that I had given a tour of the school to the previous
evening. She waved enthusiastically at me as she watched me cycling towards
her. I stopped to say `good morning', affectionately rustled the hair of
the child that she was walking to school, kissed her on her cheek and
winked at her, before cycling off. Upon reaching school, I parked my bike,
and rushed toward my form room. Mr. Wilde was walking the other way down
the main corridor with Mrs. Platt, the deputy head on one side, and
Mr. Stewart, the head, on the other. He spoke firmly to me "Slow down
Curtis". I slowed my pace, but stubbornly refused to move to the side to
allow the three of them to pass. It was Mrs. Platt who moved out of the way
to allow us all to pass. As I brushed past the three of them, I grabbed
Mr. Wilde's balls through his trousers. I said nothing, not even gaining
eye contact with him, nor looking back afterwards. It was too quick for
anybody to have noticed, but once again, I was exerting my authority and
enjoying doing it too.

On reaching my form-room, slightly late, I went in and sat down in the only
available remaining seat, next to Bekki Cox. I put my hand under the table
and rested it on her thigh, riding her skirt up slightly. She gave me `the
look', screwed her face up, and whispered, playfully. "Fuck off, Curtis".

"When can we link?" I asked her, assuming that she would not want to link
me if she was pregnant.

"I got a free yard this evening." She said, come round after six.

"Kewl" I replied, "I've actually missed your moist pussy, and your
voluptuous `back-off' (a UK slang term for ass). I'm gonna fuck u like I'm
digging for gold" I laughed.

"Is that something that you would like to share with the rest of the class,
Curtis?" Mrs. Gambit, my form tutor asked.

"Yes Mrs. Gambit, I actually would like to share it with the class". I
said, positioning myself as class entertainer and moving to the front of
the class. Bekki looked at me as if pleading me not to expose the fact that
I'm banging her. I winked at her to quench her fears.

"Class", I said boldly as though about to address them on an important
issue. "I would like to bring to your attention a matter that has been on
my mind all morning". I imitated Mrs. Gambit as best I could.

"Go on Curtis", Mrs. Gambit solicited, assuming that I was actually going
to share something of value.

"Well class", I coughed. "And let me get straight to the point here", I
stalled, "It is Bekki's ass, class, her back-off, it is so perfectly juicy,
I just want the class to APPRECIATE" I paused as the class roared in
laughter "APP-PURR-ECIATE" I milked the laughter, "What the good Lord has
blessed her with, Amen?"

"AMEN!" shouted every boy in the class, with a few `true-dat, true-dat's'
thrown in for good measure. Bekki sunk her face into her hands in a mixture
of embarrassment, and pride, as my flattery of her, though lurid, was
backed up by the entire class.

"Alright Curtis, very funny, now fuck off back to your seat you little
turnip", Mrs. Gambit said loosely, and busting a half-smile. This, being
her last term, she had given up on etiquette and protocol, and settled for
`joining in' a lot of the time. As I walked back to my seat a few boys
mouthed `you turnip'.

`Well, it's not Bekki' I thought to myself, mentally crossing her of my
list of five.

The rest of the school day came and went as school-days do. I had left my
phone at home, so as soon as the bell sounded, I darted to my bike, and
cycled home in record time, in case there was a message from Dwayne. Mum
was in the back garden planting something. I retrieved my phone and as
suspected, there was a message.  It read `Fam, I'm going home to change out
of my school uniform, then I'm gonna bike to your place, where do you life
fam?'

It had been sent about 10 minutes before, so I replied `I live near the
Kebab Shop, I'll meet you there, ping me when your near and wear black'.

He replied `Kewl'.

I changed out of my school uniform, showered quickly, as I remembered that
I had not had a shower, nor even washed after getting head from PC Dave
that morning. After showering, I put on my black hooded tracksuit and went
outside to see what mum was planting.

"What are you doing ma?" I asked.

"Oh, hello baby", she said, delighted to see me. "Look, I'm planting
buttons" she said, as she literally pulled a button of one of my clean
white shirts, and pushed it down into the earth. I noticed the washing
basket next to her had about four of my white school shirts in it. I
investigated them and discovered that all of the buttons had been removed,
and were presumably planted around the garden. There were several empty
cans of beer in the garden too, as well as another two or three on the
floor by the couch. I put them all in the dustbin, and said to my mum:

"Ma, I'm going out to meet a friend, I'll be back later, you don't need to
cook for me ma, I'll eat out".  I kissed her on her forehead and left her
to her imagination.  I looked at my phone and saw that Dwayne had sent me
`omw'. So I got on my way too. I went to the kitchen to look in the biscuit
barrel where mum keeps here benefit money, as I needed to go to Tesco and
buy some new school shirts. It was empty. `Fucking bastard' I thought to
myself, presuming that Marques had cleaned us out. I rode down to the Kebab
Shop, and met Dwayne who was waiting with his bike outside. He was wearing
black trainers, black jogging bottoms, and a black `No-Fear'
hoodie. `Dayum, he took me literally' I thought to myself. We took each
others hands, messing up a three-part hand shake, that we obviously didn't
know each other well enough to execute well, but nobody had clocked the
slip. I poked my head into the Kebab shop and asked Kemal's girlfriend "Is
your boy, Kemal gonna be working here this evening?"

"Yes, kid". She replied. I winked, waved, and thought to myself `free food
tonight then'.

Dwayne followed me to Tesco's. I told him to wait outside with my bike,
which he did. I rushed to the `back to school' section and found the
largest size of school shirts, there were sold in packs of three. I opened
one pack, discarding the wrapping, and therefore the barcode, and left the
shop, tagging on to the back of a large family group, before parting ways
with them, and running round to meet Dwayne. He looked at me and shook his
head, laughing. I laughed with him at the irony of having not stolen
something a bit `cooler'. "But hey, I need `em", I explained to him.  We
cycled home and went straight up to my bedroom. I wanted to avoid having to
explain my mother's condition to an eleven year old, and she was still in
the garden, so would not know that we had come in anyway.

Dwayne and I sat down on my bed, I showed him my video of PC Dave. "Your
too fucking much fam", Dwayne laughed, before adding "But why doe? If you
say you're not gay".

"I don't just `SAY' I'm not gay fam", I corrected him, "I'm NOT fucking
gay, this is a power trip fam, do you see anybody putting their dicks in my
ass?" I asked.

"No fam, it's the other way round". He confirmed.

"And do you see me sucking anybody's dick?" I continued.

"No fam, they are all sucking your dick fam". He verified.

"Exactly fam", I explained, "It's not about being gay or not, it's about
being in control fam, I can get free food in the Kebab shop, grade A in
science, and now, I got a police officer on lock... You get it fam?"

"You are a fucking gee bruv". Dwayne confirmed.

"And you're gonna be my side-kick fam", I announced, "For when I need one".

"Like when?" he asked.

"Well, for example", I continued, "We are gonna fuck up that pussy-ole
skinny-white-man because of the way that he disrespected us the other day".

"Count me in fam", Dwayne was elated, he felt like he was Robin to
Keynsham's Batman.

"But I ain't turning you gay, fam; so first, we gotta get you some
pussy". I threw him a black beanie hat, which made him look older and I
told him to say as little as possible so that Bekki doesn't clock how young
he is. We rode to Bekki's house and knocked the door. She answered in a
vest top and leggings. What transpired inside Bekki's house is another
story for another day, but needless to say that Dwayne and I both left
feeling a foot taller and much more masculine.

"Right then, fam" I said, "Now that we have had our fill of plutonium, lets
go and see if we can find that skinny-white-man, and fuck the prick up"...

"Yes boss", Dwayne laughed as he jumped back on his bike and followed
Curtis up towards the Leisure Centre.

--------------------------------------------------------

If you have enjoyed this chapter and want me to write chapter 7, please
email me at marcusdacosta@hotmail.co.uk quoting 'curtis seduces'. If there
is enough response, I will write more. J. (It is your emails of
appreciation and suggestion that motivates me to write).

Please donate to keep nifty alive!
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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