Cocaine Trash A Novel

'Just wank yourself off,' I think to myself; 'go into the bathroom and wank yourself off in the sink. Don't let your lust get the better of you Darren.' Unfortunately, though, my lust does get the better of me, and I find myself walking almost beyond my control over to the door, opening it, and descending out into the sexually haunted hall.

Quietly, I close my door and stand there between my room and the other. I can hear the moaning more clearly now, a particularly reverberating quality to it. I can even hear the gruff moans of the man, and I have good clarification that there is spanking going on. I can practically hear the woman's flesh quivering all sinuously amongst the wild bouncing-up-and-down of the mattress; it sounds all too sexual for words, all too highly charged with an orgasmic, intense energy.

Starting to sweat a little, I begin moving slowly towards the room, hoping that the floorboards don't creak too much. When I'm at the door, I lean slowly forward and, as furtively as I can, peer through the small, but well-rounded keyhole. Fuck me, what a sight; David Frost would have a fit. In my narrowed peripheral vision, I can see this beautiful Romanian woman with silky, plenteous black hair riding this rather muscular man in reverse cowgirl style. She's dressed in suspenders, which travel nicely up her toned thighs, and her skin looks considerably tanned, to the point of appearing more Spanish than Romanian. I even wonder for a moment whether she is Spanish; but then I hear her loud, resonating Romanian moans, with words that could be translated into English as 'Yes' and 'Fuck me hard.'

With my mouth partially open in shock, I take my face away from the door and breathe slowly out. There's a thin layer of sweat on my forehead, and I'm feeling incredibly hot like I've got a searing temperature coming on. 'I need to go for a walk,' I think, trying to steady my intense breathing. 'A breath of fresh air would really do me good right now.'

Moving back down the hall, and rubbing the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, I hurry over to the staircase and descend down the stairs quickly. Fuck that was some erotic shit, I think, in a frenzy of sexualised thoughts; fuck that was SEXUAL. As I get halfway down the steps, I begin to notice, through the side of the banisters, the gorgeous receptionist's long dark hair as she sits at the desk down below. I watch her for a bit and let my eyes become soothed profusely by her sheer beauty and elegance, elegance that delights my eyes and brings a sense of strong company right my way. It's as if I'm not alone, and that there's some kind of substitute on offer for my raging horniness, some kind of methadone if you will.

I step down onto the thin, brown carpeted floor and, stopping by the reception, glance at the doors of the entrance and then back at the receptionist, who gazes up at me with a small but significant smile.

'I was thinking of going for a short walk,' I say.

She looks at me again, a little confused and lost in translation. 'A walk?'

'Yes,' I reply, 'just going to get a breath of fresh air. Maybe take a little stroll.'

'Oh,' she says, having interpreted me correctly this time. 'Well, do not be back too late as the hotel closes soon.'

'Ok, I won't be gone long.' I stare at the woman for a bit, unable to stop myself from smiling at the sight of her gorgeously exotic skin. It looks soft, lustrous, and nourished to the full. 'You have very nice lips by the way.'

Looking back at me, she frowns, again confused in pure bewilderment. 'Sorry, I do not understand you.'

'Your lips,' I reiterate, putting my finger up to my lips to signal what I mean, 'they're very nice.'

She finally understands me and lets out a subtle but jovial laugh. 'Oh, thank you,' she says, before looking back down at her desk.

I watch her admiringly for a bit and then, with slow pace, begin moving over to the doors. I can't help, though, but glance back at the woman in blatant sexual attraction. I mean this woman is like a fucking angel I tell you, like an exquisite ice ornament that's morphed into a sultry, fiercely sexy vampiress.

I'm standing outside the building, and as I look about the place I take a deep breath and exhale. The sky looks a shade of navy blue, glowing ever so slightly from the moon that lurks behind the opposite street's houses, and the gentle breeze in the air cools me down and touches my bare arms with refreshing style. I think about the two people in their room fucking raunchily and then the beautiful receptionist. What an indisputably sexy woman, I think; a real dazzling and enticing lady. Pulchritudinous if I wanted to sound like a complete pompous bastard.

With that subtle breeze still cooling my skin, I gaze down the left side of the street and start walking.

I return from my 15 minute stroll fairly disappointed and still yearning for a thrill. I'd thought that the city would be much livelier than it turned out to be, but the sights were basic and uneventful to say the least. I was even hoping that I'd stumble across, by miraculous chance, some discrete little brothel somewhere; but of course I didn't, and I'm greatly fucking disappointed.

I'm feeling miserable, and a little weary, when I catch a glimpse of that sexy receptionist's face through the doors of the hotel. I can see her sitting all shyly at her desk, and it looks like she's recently applied a fresh coat of mauve coloured lipstick to her face. Man, I can't help but nod, in true appreciation of this beautiful fucking woman.

'Wow, you look really great,' I say as I walk on through into the quiet, nocturnal hotel, the woman sitting there at the reception still and motionless like an angelic statue.

She looks up from her desk at me and pretends as if she didn't hear what I said; but I know she heard all right; the flattery is blatant on that lightly blushing face of hers.

'You look absolutely gorgeous,' I say, the amorous smile forming devilishly.

'Haha, thank you,' she says.

Unhurriedly, I walk on over to the desk, my eyes gazing incessantly at the woman's petite, alluring figure, and feel my dick begin to harden in a sudden rage of concupiscence. The thing that I absolutely fucking love about the woman is that she's thin, not fat, and it's a great fucking contrast to the fat black American bird from earlier on. I can see in-between the white shirt she's wearing that her breasts are small, but beautifully effeminate, and they match her lovely pintsized frame magnificently. Man I love a pintsized woman; a real fucking turn on.

'You had nice walk?' she says to me, in her cute little Romanian voice.

Now this is a great opportunity to start something. I feel not a bout of adrenalin, not a bout of any nervousness whatsoever; it's like I've taken a couple of beta blockers, and I'm ready to give this woman the best lines I've got in true Darren Speck style. 'Well, to tell you the truth, it wasn't a great walk. In fact, to be even more honest, I prefer standing right here gawping at you.'

The woman stares at me for a moment or two; she doesn't know quite what to say; she's totally taken aback by this unexpected, but most probably appreciated, complement. 'Uh...' she says, hesitatingly.

I stare at her and smile, my eyes never taking themselves off her devastatingly good-looking visage.

'I... I do not know what to say,' she says. She's blushing now, stronger than before.

'It's true, you are a... fucking beautiful woman, pardon my French.'

'I...' she hesitates again. 'I really do not know what to say about that.'

'Well...' I say, ready to go for it. 'Why don't we go upstairs to my room, sit for a bit, kiss for a bit, maybe fuck?'

It's at this somewhat daredevil line of mine that the woman gazes at me in a serious fashion. We're looking into each other's eyes, and I can tell that she's up for it. Never have I seen such an expression on a woman's face that says, 'I'm up for that shit Darren. Boy am I up for that shit.'

We're upstairs now, outside my room. The noise from my neighbours is minimal, and as I press my hand gently down on my door handle I picture the couple right now, all worn out from their vigorous sex session, vaping on a couple of freshly charged e-cigs as they lie there surrounded by imaginary, vivid red roses. Fuck, what an amorous fucking thought. Dam that's sexy.

As soon as we're in the room, I walk over to the bed and lie back down on it, while the beautiful Romanian receptionist stands all shy and nervous like by the door. She seems a little tense, a little anxious. 'I know, I know,' I say, 'I should have brought a bottle of merlot with me or something.'

She laughs, and I'm pleased that I've managed to draw her in from my atrocious, but witty, chat up lines. 'Come,' I say, patting a patch of the bed with my hand; 'come an' gimme a kiss.'

I know she's nervous all right; I know she's fucking resisting her urges with great self control. But I also see the temptation take complete hold of her, and it's not before long that she's walking over to the bed and getting up onto it. Her chest touches my body in pure sensuousness, and when those glossy, cherry like lips touch mine the sexual euphoria really starts for me. It dominates me in awesome, lascivious style and wrecks testosterone fuelled havoc on my two manically functioning balls.

Deciding to make the first real move, I slip my tongue into her mouth and French kiss the living shit out of her. She moans slightly with a deeply effeminate sound leaping from her vocal box. 'God, you're so fucking gorgeous,' I say, rubbing my hands all over her back and pert arse. I slap it once, and she makes this noise that's kind of like a squeal, but it's a sexy lil squeal I tell ya.

'You like that do you?' I say.

'A little,' she says, her voice tinted with a streak of womanly lust.

I slap her arse again, a little harder this time, as we continue tying our saliva ruled tongues together like wrestlers. I soon find myself rolling her over onto her front, kissing her face like it's the ripest passion fruit I've ever come across, and then, really snazzing things up, pressing my hands on her two honey soft breasts. 'Why don't you take that shirt off for me?' I say, panting slightly and lost in a haze of x-rated romance.

'I... not sure,' she says, more nervously than reluctantly.

'Come on, you're so fucking gorgeous; you're a fucking angel.'

Slowly, she moves her hands up to her chest and begins unbuttoning her shirt. The excitement that I feel in the moments leading to the revealing of her flesh is strong, potent, and deeply wild. I anticipate every bit of detail on her breasts; I anticipate every bit of texture on her skin and what those small, fine bumps on her nipples must look like. This is one woman's breasts I absolutely want to lap up and taste in pure, untainted sordidness.

The shirt comes off, followed by a small burgundy coloured bra, and the woman's tits are officially revealed. I don't hesitate to fondle with them, and I momentarily close my eyes as I experience the great, hypersexual sensations of them cupped adoringly in my hands. I play with them for a bit and then move my face right up close to her chest where I proceed to suck her dainty, hard nipples. They feel tender in-between the parting of my sensitive lips, and I begin to swirl the tip of my tongue over them like a pulsating worm wriggling uncontrollably in the open air. I love the particular feel they have; it's like feeling warm, flexible rubber coated with the finest, smoothest skin. 'Perfeck!' as David Jason would say. Pure perfected pleasure gone wild!

I'm about to take off her black skirt when suddenly something spontaneous and alarming happens. A series of grey streaks, like the ones in an old videocassette, traverse down my vision in image shattering style, and the sight of the Romanian woman's svelte figure drifts up with them, ultimately becoming replaced by the background of a train's interior. The next thing I know, I'm sitting, on a fucking train, with several fat black American women surrounding me so that I'm almost suffocating, so that I can feel their obesity practically wrap itself around me like an octopus' tentacles.

Registering the disturbing nature of it all, it suddenly occurs to me that all of this, everything that I'm convinced that I've witnessed, isn't real. It's all a figment of my subconscious mind, and at any second I'm going to find myself opening my eyes and scenting the musky aroma of some slightly mouldy mattress.

Any second now, any fucking second...

SOME ASS SPANKING DREAM

I find myself in the ladies department of a clothes store. There are girls about everywhere; they're scattered all over the place, like prowling insects crawling through a colourful jungle. I've got the raging horn, and all I'm thinking about is these beautiful, sexy girls. I want to shag one of them; I want to spank some gorgeous girl's nice booty, and I'm determined to carry out some kind of sexual thrill.

Dressed entirely in black, my cashmere jumper feeling nice and warm against my chest, I walk leisurely around the store, my hands flexing and ready to touch the warm surface of some immaculate, flesh covered derriere. I've now seen the first girl coming, a strawberry blonde by the underwear section, and I approach her like a famished alligator in for its kill. She's wearing some purple cotton fancy tights with her pert little arse out on display. Man I've got my hand nice and ready for it, nice and fucking ready to feel that majestic, peachy flesh in all its splendour.

It's with hard force that I spank that pert arse and feel it jiggle against my hand. The flesh feels warm, and there's a temptation to grip and sink my hand into it for a bit, but I see other girls penetrating my field of vision, girls with far more opulent shaped booties. Don't get me wrong, a petite, pert arse can be great on a girl, but what I really desire at the moment is nice, curvaceous derrières.

Walking away, I register the girl letting out a moan of what sounds like shock, but it could also be, by the slightest of chances, a moan of sheer feministic ecstasy. I know that some girls really like to be spanked, and I'm really thinking that this girl could be one of them; there's just this vibe I'm getting, you know, a strong but subtle vibe.

I'm still lingering on the thought when I see an old lady with an arched back and aged ravished skin appearing out of nowhere. Fortunately, I deter myself swiftly away from the woman and head off further down the section. I want some gorgeous young thing; not some old bag of a bint with an arse like a prickly cactus; that shit just won't do for me now; it just won't do.

I'm nearing the end of the section, and I see a sultry looking Spanish girl, about 19 or 20, by the sock department. My hand is ready to go, and as I go in for the kill the girl turns to face me. There's a look of curiosity in her eyes but also of mild alarm; it's an ambiguous combination, and I begin to suspect that a character of perversity may be running wild in her demeanour.

She's about to open her mouth and say something to me when I spank her posterior even harder than the last girl's. It's a nice firm spanking, and I feel, fully, that aching pain you get in your hand when you slap real fuckin' forcefully. Again, this girl lets out the same moan of shock, but with that sultry accent of hers she really does make it sound like a moan of ecstatic ecstasy. Man, her arse felt great, real fuckin' sensual.

I continue walking at a fast pace, prowling about the place for me next victim in this act of obscene lust. My eyes suddenly widen at the sight of two beautiful girls by the shoe department. They are both leaning forward, rooting through a shelf of dainty chaussures; and as I watch their visible behinds I feel a tingling sensation travel all the way up my spine. I see that they are chatting away to one another, their voices sounding soft and effeminate, like a couple of smooth tunes being played finely out of a flute. The girl on the right is wearing tight black pants, pants which look elastic and give real definition to that curved groove in her arse. It makes my dick immediately harden to an aching but pleasurable state, and as she wobbles that big booty of hers a wave of sweaty heat comes rushing over my overtly sexual face.

I approach the girls and stop behind them. Then, with my right hand, I spank the girl with the elastic leggings. After that, I spank the other with equal hardness. Instantaneously they let out simultaneous moans, briefer ones than the others, but by god are they intense, intense and deeply profound. Despite the intensity, however, neither of these beautiful jeunesses bother to turn around; instead, they just carry on looking attentively at their beloved shoes. That's all that matters to them, those god dam fucking shoes. I look at the girl on the left and see that she's a fraction plumper than the girl on the right. But only a fraction, and the weight doesn't actually detract her beauty in the least; I guess it gives her her own uniqueness; a good contrast really I'd say.

As I stare at the plumper girl's shapely derrière, I suddenly notice an abundance of other girls coming whooshing into the department along with a wave of sizzling flames. It's at the sight of these potent flames that I realise that all of the girls' faces are melting away like thick heaps of gooey wax. They all seem to be melding together like masses of molten metal; and I can't even catch a glimpse of any of their (most probably) perfect arses, nor tits for that matter. They're fading away into a world of liquefying beauty, wax for flesh and burning plastic for faces. Everything is spinning way out of control now in this fucked department. Girls' booties are throwing themselves through the walls and into other dimensions; knickers and bras are melting away with the girls. This is all terribly fucked up...

BOOZE

Yes, let me talk about booze for a bit. I've decided to switch from my usual Newcastle Brown to John Smith to save money. The co-op has stopped their 3 for 5 quid deal. Utter cunts. I have to get something else, and there really isn't much else to choose from. I decide to go for a 4 pack of John Smith for 4 quid. It's a bad fucking choice as there's only 3.6 percent alcohol in each can; also they're smaller, only 440 ml. Jesus, what is the world coming too?

It's difficult to drink as I really don't like that tinny taste that you get from ale in a can. It makes the liquid taste strange. I try pouring it into a Newcastle Brown bottle, but that doesn't help. The truth of the matter is that John Smith is a shit drink, and Newcastle Brown is the bollocks. I manage to drink a couple of glasses of the John Smith and for a moment convince myself that it's something great, something special, but it really isn't. In fact, the majority of major beer brands are fucking terrible. Stella, Fosters, Carlsberg, you name it. All Shit.

The best brands are obviously the most expensive which fucks me off. Newcastle Brown, Adnams, Greene King, and Honeycomb Beer to name a few are fine drinks, and I personally recommend them. I also recommend most brands of red wine (in particular stamp of Australia merlot, which is the bollocks of all red wine). Have a drink of it, enjoy yourself. You only live once, or twice if you're James Bond!

FARMFOODS AND MY FANTASY FOR CHRISTMAS

I'll tell you what I hate about Farmfoods shall I? I fucking hate how every time I go in there, it's like a fucking warzone. I go in there and there's trolleys coming this way, trolleys coming that way. I can't fucking move in the shop without there being some cunt who wants to buy a tin of spam in the way. I go in there the other day to buy myself a pack of energy drinks, and it's like the hardest fucking thing in the world to do. I manage to get towards the queue, but what do you know, there's a fucking massive one. There are also these two cunt kids in Adidas gear by two trolleys full of toilet roll. I refuse to stand behind them cunts for half an hour, so I put the energy drinks back and just leave the shop. Fuck, what a fucking drama.