They held me against the fencing and spread my legs apart and my arms away from my sides. They had those plastic ties and secured my ankles and wrist... to the fencing. They hung a sign around my neck that read: IT’S MY BIRTHDAY. GIVE ME A STROKE FOR GOOD LUCK! MAKE ME CUM AND WIN A PRIZE!And then they left and I was all alone in the hallway.That is until the bell rang, and the lunch period started, then the hallway filled up. Guys and girls headed to the bathroom and saw me and laughed. . Suddenly I felt my bollocks tighten and my cock stiffen. ‘I’m going to cum,’ I said breathlessly. ‘I know. Fill this slut’s arse with your spunk.’ ‘It’s here slut, I’m going to….ooooooohhhhh,’ I groaned, as jet after jet of spunk erupted into her arse. As I came I felt her arse tighten, gripping my cock hard as she orgasmed herself. I remained inside her, allowing my cock to slacken and fall from her hole. I looked at the gaping hole I’d made of her tight rosebud and watched my spunk. All the articles were just as a regular newspaper, just slanted towards gay angles. That's all. No monsters, no perverts in long black coats etc. At the back of the paper was a list of help lines and groups. Of course, it was no surprise that nearly every number was preceded by the telephone prefix for the London area. Except one. This one was for my home city. Yes. There it was, a phone number for a 'gay centre' in the place I was born and lived...Placing that call was one of the scariest and. I imagined so vividly the soft breeze of your breath on my neck, your skin along the length of my body. I woke my body trembling, another dream of you. I opened my eyes squinting at the sun streaming through the closed blinds, bright blue eyes never get accustomed to the sun. I turned over and there you were. I laughed. ‘Heya’ you said, totally calm. I hadn’t dreamt it. I remembered the drive here and seeing you. Then I remembered how exhausted I was when I finally got here. I loved you more.