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There was a medium sized Co-op backing onto the same carpark I'd been in the night before saving Sangeeta from the skin-heads. Iparked up and stood for a minute, reliving that.I filled a trolley inside with food: burgers, steak, chips, bread,plenty of beer, some roast microwave dinners, a box of chocolate cereal;ham, bread, butter; more beer.Despite my earlier reservations, it was clear to me now that I shouldchange as often as possible into this shape to get the work donequickly. And if I was going to spend a lot of time being a man, I sureas hell wasn't going to peck at the bird food I usually ate. I neededproper grub.It barely all fit into the stupid little boot on my rinky-dink car. Thisshit heap had to go, it really did.When I pulled up back home, John's girlfriend Debbie was doing thegarden in front of their house opposite. She covered a smile when shesaw me squeezing out of the Noddy-mobile. I gave her an embarrassedflick of my eyebrows and went back inside. Fifteen minutes. I heard panting, straining, desperate, almost agonized panting that wasn't me, and I felt more rain falling, and someone called out to god. The sweet slippery massage intensified toward a bursting explosion. I felt like I was upside down, outside myself, tumbling over and over in back-flipping pleasure as my cock was swallowed up in that beautiful tightness, wet and hungry tightness, gobbling me up at a piston's pace. And then I came. I heard a feminine squeal somewhere above me as my cock throbbed hard and thick, and then burst out with its hot stringy spew. I grunted and thrust upwards and shivered all over, and came, and came, and came some more, spurting and growling, and yanking at my sheets as the beautiful tightness squeezed on me, winding down to a slow sweet gyration of sensual massaging, sucking me dry of everything I had.Then all I heard was panting. I felt even more gooey and numb and I felt like I was drifting away. This must be what dying feels like, I thought. This.
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