When i didn't move or say anything, he grabbed me by my hair and made me look up at him. He still had that smirk on his face when he asked me:“You a...e quite a faggot slut, aren't you?”I didn't respond at all, i was still transfixed by the sight and aroma of his dick. He brought me out of it with a slap across my face. “answer me when i ask you something bitch”I mumble something; he slaps me again and asks me to repeat. “yes sir, am a total gay whore”He laughs out and pulls my face onto his. In those days there was no internet, so study required actually pouring over dusty or not so dusty tomes. By four I was back home, and immediately went through to the kitchen for something cold to down with a handful of ice cubes. Quaffing the drink in one, I saw through the kitchen window that the door to the shed at the bottom of the garden was open.That was odd. There was a gardener who came in, a retired man we knew as Hodges, who supplemented his pension money on the side, but he was. More

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