Site Punishment
by
Dougie fae Glesga

 
 
Chapter 1
It was Saturday afternoon when my mate, Marty, and I stood outside the fence of a construction site situated in a scrub land area on the outskirts of Greenock.
My name's Dougie. I'm 25 and fairly well built as I do bodybuilding as a hobby. My mate Marty is 22 and goes to the same gym. He goes in for wrestling and I enjoy wrestling with him because he's got a lovely arse and I know he loves a cock up it regularly. i.e. at least ten times a week.

We do odd jobs for several scrap yards (called junk yards in some countries) "acquiring" and "finding" items for them. I had my eye on one site for several days. Not for the intention of stealing anything it but I noticed it was all skinheads who worked there and some of them, (in fact most of them) I fancied ramming my cock up their arses or let them ram their cocks up my own arse. I seem to get a hard-on whenever I passed the place and I passed it every day just to see the bastards.

This visit was purely financial. We were here to steal what we could find and sell it to a dealer. We were told that nobody worked on the site on Saturday afternoons so what better time to do a bit of "finding".
Both of us were dressed in old mud encrusted jeans, leather belt, checked shirts and rigger boots. If anyone who was passing the site saw us, we looked as if we worked there.
We crawled under a wire fence and within a minute Marty spotted a power operated saw.
"We could get a nice amount of cash for this." he said.

About 20 yards further on I saw a ten litre tin of bitumen and lifted it. More cash.
It had been raining most of the week and the site was a sea of mud. We had reached an area where the mud was about 4 inches deep.
'Great for mud wrestling.' I thought as we ploughed it. I love mud and I get a hard on every time I squelch through it. More so when I'm rolling in it.
The same thoughts must have passed through Marty's mind.

He said "How do you fancy a wrestle in the mud? The winner fucks the loser."
"You're on." I said with a wide grin.
"O.K. Get your fuck'n jeans opened at the arse because I'm going to ram my cock right up your fuck'n hole.' he said with a wide grin.
The arse seams of our jeans had been unstitched so we could be fucked fully clothed if we lost at wrestling. They had been re-stitched but could easily be opened again either by grabbing the sides or they ripped open as we were wrestling.

He put down the power saw and I put down the tin of bitumen. Before he could turn round and face me I made a lunge at him. Within seconds we were rolling about in the thick mud. In less than a minute we were unrecognisable, just two grey forms. Who would win? At that moment I couldn't care a fuck, I was in heaven. I managed to get Marty on his chest and was on top of him.
Suddenly a voice said "Is this a private fight or can anyone join in?"

 

***

Chapter 2
We stopped and I looked up. Looking down on us were six sneering skinheads.
My eyes then moved to what they carried in their hands - steel pipes, wooden clubs, chains and ropes. They were aged between 18 and 28. The youngest one was wearing skin-tight muddy jeans, checked shirt and 18 hole Doc Martins. He was covered in fresh mud and carried a steel bar. There were two others, not so muddy, also in the same gear and wore green bomber jackets. They carried ropes. Two of them wore urban combat trousers with grey T-shirts and had chains wrapped round their fists to use as knuckle-dusters. The last one was in full green combat kit and carried a baseball bat.

"What the fuck are you bastards doing in here? This is private property." said the one in full combat gear. He had a scar across his left cheek and looked the type who would love to break every bone in your body.
"They are here to do a bit of thieving. We should hand the bastards over to the cops but you know what cops are like. Wag their finger at them, tell them they're naughty boys and not to do it again then let them off. I think we should carry out the punishment ourselves. " said one of the skins in muddy urban combat kit.
"Let's work them over." said another. "I love the sound of fuck'n ribs cracking."

The guy in army combat gear said "Two Hells Angel cunts tried to steal that power saw half an hour ago. So we had to work them over and it looks like we have to do the same to you bastards as well."
A grin appeared on his face as he said "We heard what one of you said, 'The winner fucks the loser.' I guess you two bastards are the fuck'n losers and we are the winners so we're going to fuck you. We're having a party inside and you can be part of the entertainment. Come quietly and you get a cock up your fuck'n arse. Put up a fight and we beat you up first and then we fuck you."

Six skinheads standing round us and armed against two unarmed guys lying in 4 inches of mud. We looked at their weapons and decided to offer no resistance. The six pounced on us and within a minute we lay face down in the mud and our wrists were tied behind our backs. We were dragged to our feet and led into an old building they were using.
We were pushed inside and we stopped. I stared at the sight which greeted us.

A guy was standing with his back to us. He was spread-eagled with his legs kept apart by a steel bar with leg irons and his wrists tied to the overhead beam. He was dressed in Hell's Angel gear of filthy torn jeans streaked in mud, leather jacket with denim overlay and heavy steel toe capped boots. I noticed the seam of the arse of his jeans was cut and guessed he had been or was about to be fucked.
Four skinheads, one of them in combat gear and the other three in tight jeans and denim jacket were standing beside the Angel and watched us being dragged in.

There was another Hells Angel bent over a workbench with his wrists and ankles tied to the legs of the bench. There must have been a rip in the arse of his jeans for a skinhead appeared to be ramming his cock up his arse. The skinhead's breathing was fast and he suddenly groaned. The groan you get when you shoot your load of spunk up a guy's arse.
There was another skinhead in full combat gear standing beside him and a skinhead in jeans and checked shirt ramming his cock in the Angel's mouth. That was twelve of them I counted.

The leader of the group which dragged us in said "Another couple of bastards out for an easy buck. Looks as if we're going to have a party tonight. They didn't put up a fight. A pity they weren't Angels I would have kicked the shit out of them just for the pleasure. They both have lovely fuck'n arses though. That's what saved them."

He looked me up and down then grabbed my muddy hair, pulled my head back and said "I fancy this one. He looks the tougher of the two. I want him to suck my cock and call me Sir."
The skinhead leader appeared to be the guy in combat gear and standing over the bound Hells Angel. He turned to the youngest skinhead who helped capture us and said "It looks like your arse is going to have a rest this afternoon, Sid. We have other arses to fuck and you will be able to give your cock plenty of exercise today."
He walked round both Marty and me and finally pointing to Marty said "This one has the better arse. Bend him over the bench for an hour so anyone can fuck him."
Indicating me he said "Handcuff this cunt to one of the shit pans and piss over him."

As an after-thought he said "Let the bastard see what we do to guys who disobey us. Let him have a look at this fuck'n Hells Angel."
Marty was dragged over to a workbench to be tied down and I was dragged to the front of the Hells Angel.

He had a mass of black unkempt hair and a week's growth of stubble on his chin. He was a right tough looking bastard and had obviously put up a fight for he had a black eye and blood had been running from his mouth. His jeans were open at the crotch and his cock and ball hung out. A cord was tied round them forcing them to bulge. Perhaps he was turned on for he obviously had a hard on. His black T-shirt had been ripped apart to expose a well-developed chest and there were clamps on his tits. He looked straight ahead.

The skinhead leader grasped his balls and said "You're going to call me Sir, aren't you, Shitbag?"
"Fuck off, bastard." said the Hell's Angel.
The skinhead twisted the Angel's balls and the guy gasped, gritting his teeth. If that had been Marty or me we would have passed out with the pain.
The skinhead laughed and gently rubbing the Angel's balls, adding "If he calls me Sir too early it will spoil my week-end."
One of the skinheads said "Hey, Joe. How about putting this cunt out in the mud? I fancy a right muddy session with him."
He was pointing to me.

The leader said "O.K. Take him outside do what the fuck you want with him."
The combat skinhead who had captured us, I discovered later, was second in command was called Jazza. He said "There's nothing better than ramming a mud covered cock up an arse and I'm going to be the first to fuck the cunt."

I was taken outside and across the deep mud to a large steel ring at the base of the wall then forced to lie on my back while my wrists were tied to the ring. I lay in 4 inches of mud while the skinheads took out their cocks and pissed over me then kicked me in the ribs and the balls.
Jazza stood in front of me rubbing his cock. I could see it getting bigger until it became rock hard. As I lay there with my wrists above my head and my legs wide apart and looking at four tough muddy skinheads I realised I had a hard on.
"Lift the bastard's legs in the air so I can ram my cock up his fuck'n arse." said Jazza.
As he knelt in the mud in front of me he said "Make any funny moves and you get a fuck'n boot in your face, cunt."

I made no resistance as my legs were lifted in the air and he moved right up against me. The backs of my legs were draped over his shoulders. He was now covered from his shoulders to his knees in mud from my jeans. I could feel him guiding his cock to the crack of my arse. He gripped my hips and rammed his cock up my arse with full force. I gasped with the sudden pain. Slowly he withdrew his cock then rammed it in again. This time I was more prepared. I tried to relax my arse muscles to make it easier but I kept thinking of that huge cock of his. His ramming became faster and more regular as he took up a rhythm. I could hear him gasping and his breathing became faster.

After several minutes he suddenly let out a yell and rammed his cock in with full force and kept it there for a full minute.
His breathing slowed down and finally he spoke.
"This cunt's got a lovely tight arse, guys. Make the most of it. I'm going to fuck him again in an hour."
He pushed my legs off his shoulder and on to the mud. As he rose I could see the mud covering his gear and my cock which had gone soft over the last few minutes went hard again. If only I could ram my cock up his fuck'n arse dressed in all that mud.

My mind was distracted as another skinhead knelt down in his place. Fresh mud was on the under side of my jeans and the skinheads gear received the same muddy treatment to the front of his shirt and jeans.
By the time the fourth one had fucked me I thought I was in for a rest but Jazza told one of the others to find if anyone else wanted a muddy fuck.
A minute later he returned.
"Every guy has fucked someone in there. They said to keep the bastard here and they'll fuck him in half an hour."

Then I remembered the leader's last words "We have all week-end to deal with these guys."
That meant cock after cock rammed up my arse for the next two days.
 
 

***

 

Chapter 3
Gary told me later what happened to him. He was dragged over to one of the workbenches. He knew it was useless trying to resist. He had also counted twelve skinheads and the two of us were no match, especially when we had seen what they had done to these two Hells Angels.
I know Gary enjoys a good cock up his arse, especially if the guy is a right tough looking bastard and most of these skinheads come into that category.

He was ordered to lean over a workbench. A rope was tied round his neck and the other end of the rope was tied to the cross bar of the bench. His legs were pulled apart and more ropes tied his ankles to the legs of the bench. His wrists were still tied behind his back. He couldn't move and knew escape was out of the question for the moment.
While he was being tied to one workbench the second Angel was untied from the other workbench and dragged to the shit pan. He struggled but the four skinheads kept him under control and eventually he lay on his back with his wrist tied securely round the shit stained pan.

A tube was forced into his mouth and secured by rubber strap round his head. The other end of the tube led to a plastic funnel.
The four skinheads took out their cocks and each pissed into the funnel.
"Right, cunt. Swallow our piss or we break your fuck'n ribs." said one of the skinheads. The Angel gasped as the skinhead then kicked him in the balls. During the next hour skinheads would come up and piss in the tube and kick the Angel in the ribs or the balls. Despite the kicks to his balls the Angel had a hard on all the time. He was obviously turned on by the S&M scene.

The gang leader went over to Gary and said "O.K. You little shit. From now on you call us SIR, and to encourage you, Danny's going to draw his belt across your fuck'n arse. He stops when you say SIR."
When it reached 50 Gary decided he had enough and shouted "Please Sir. Enough, Sir."
By now his arse felt as if it was burning. He could probably take 80 to 90 strokes but it was no use being a hero. It was better to say Sir and keep his wits about him if he was going to try and escape.

Gary gasped as he felt something cold against his hot arse. As it was pushed up his arse he realised it was grease. Next he felt hands grip his hips and he gasped as a cock was rammed up his arse. For a few seconds the pain eased then he felt the cock coming out then rammed in again. This time he was prepared for it. He tried to relax for he knew he was going to be fucked by several tough mud-covered skinheads. The skinhead's cock started a rhythm as it went in and out, faster and faster. It took him over five minutes to reach his climax as he gasped and rammed his cock in to the hilt and kept it there for about 30 seconds.
Slowly it was withdrawn and the skinhead said "You've a lovely arse, cunt. A pity you didn't work on the site. I would fuck you every day, twice a day."

His place was taken by another skinhead and the ramming of Gary's arse resumed. A muddy combat skinhead stood in front of Gary and grasping his hair ordered him to open his mouth. The skinhead rammed his cock into it almost choking the guy. He was now being fucked back and front.
It would be about thirty minutes before the fucking stopped. There had been six cocks up his arse and four in his mouth. By the time they were all finished Gary had a hard on. He had enjoyed himself knowing each cock up his arse and in his mouth belonged to a tough skinhead.

The skinhead leader looked at the tougher of the two Hells Angels and said "I think this Angel needs his juice released. The bastard's starting to drip at the cock.
Nodding towards Gary he said "Take Cute-Arse to the big Angel and he can give the bastard a blow job."
The ropes holding Gary to the bench were untied. His wrists were still tied behind his back. He was led over to the big Hells Angel and ordered to kneel in front of him.

Gary looked up at the Angel's face but the guy stared straight in front of him. There was a cord wrapped round his cock and balls and a weight hanging from the cord. The pain and discomfort either didn't bother him or he enjoyed it for his cock was erect and red with juice dripping from the tip.
"O.K. Cute Arse. Suck this bastard's cock. He's enjoying this torture too much. Once he's shot his juice he might be a bit more submissive."

Gary opened his mouth and took in the Angel's cock then started a rhythm. In, out, in, out. After a dozen times he stopped and taking his tongue he tickled the tip of the Angel's cock. After that he took his tongue round the guy's balls. He could smell oil and piss from his jeans, a real man's smell. Gary started getting a hard on again. So did the Angel, as his cock glowed a bright red and appeared ready to burst.
He went back to tickling the tip of the cock and the Angel let out a whimper. His breathing became heavier then he said "Suck it, kid. Suck me good. I need to come."

Gary took the huge red cock in his mouth again and the Angel gyrated his hips faster and faster, all the time gasping and moaning. Suddenly he yelled and a stream of creamy juice shot into Gary's mouth. It seemed never ending. He swallowed all the juice hungrily. His own cock was now hard with excitement.
The skinhead leader who had been standing watching all this time suddenly grabbed Gary by the collar of his shirt and with his foot pushed him to the floor.
"The entertainment's over." he said.

Pointing to Gary "Take this cunt to the shit pan and tie him up while I let this Angel bastard feel my belt."
Gary was dragged to the shit pans. His wrists, which had been tied behind his back, were untied and he was ordered to lie in front of the piss stained bowl. He was ordered to slip one hand round the bowl, his arms encircling it. A skinhead sat abreast his chest and fitted handcuffs to his wrists. Still abreast of his chest the skinhead took out his cock and ordered Gary to open his mouth. Immediately a stream of warm liquid shot into it and he was ordered to swallow the lot or he would receive a kick on his balls. Several other skinheads came over to him and pissed over his face, chest and crotch then gave him a kick in the ribs or balls.

Meanwhile the skinhead leader took his belt and belted the Hell's Angel across his cock and balls several times but the Angel still refused to call him Sir. By now he had sagged into semi consciousness with the pain.

The skinhead obviously wanted the Angel to say the word SIR but if the Angel was unconscious he couldn't inflict the torture so gave up for the moment.
It must have been an hour since we were captured and things had quietened down. All the skinheads had fucked at least two of the four of us and were determined to fuck every one of us for the leader said "Take a rest guys. I think we should stay here all night and have a big "fuck in."

By 2 p.m. several of the skinheads were getting restless and were moaning about missing the football match in the town. The leader himself now appeared more interested on how Greenock Morton would fair against their rivals Paisley St Mirren.
One skinhead said "I wanted to kick fuck out of those skinheads from the Gibby."
Gibbshill (or the Gibby) is a tough council housing scheme with two tough skinhead gangs who loved a fight at the match.

Another skinhead said "What about some of us going to the match so we can kick fuck out of the Gibby cunts, and leave a couple of guys here to look after these bastards?"
There were grunts of agreement. The leader said "O.K. Bring that other bastard from outside, tie him up here and we pick three guys to look after them while the rest go to the match."
A minute later I was dragged inside. I was bent over the workbench and the rope from my neck was tied to the cross bar under the bench. My legs were pulled apart and my ankles tied to the bench legs. The three remaining skinheads could fuck me at any time they felt bored.
 

***

Chapter 4
Gary lay with his arms circling the shit pan and felt the handcuffs biting into his left wrist. He slid his body closer to the pan to ease the pain and then found the cuff round his right wrist quite loose. The skinhead who had put the cuffs on, hadn't checked if they had gone to the tightest ratchet. Gary suddenly realised he might escape. He brought his fingers as close together as he could and pulled his hand slowly through the cuff. He was free.
He kept his hands round the pan and looked about him. None of the skinheads were in the building. Slowly and quietly I rose. The Angel tied to the bench saw him and whispered "There's a knife in the lining of my jacket. Under my collar. Get it out and cut me free."

Gary tip-toed over to the Angel, felt under the jacket collar and found the narrow opening. He brought out a 3 inch long flick knife. He pressed the side button and a blade shot out. Quickly he cut the ropes and the Angel was free.
The Angel whispered to him "Keep quiet. Grab something to use as a club and use it if any those bastards come in. I'll cut Frank and your mate free."
Within a minute we were all free. The big Angel pulled the huge butt plug out of his arse with a sigh. Gary wanted to slip out and escape but the big Angel had other ideas.

He said "I want to kick that bastard Knuckles on the balls and break his fuck'n jaw. Then I'd ram my fist up the cunt's arse. After that I'll kick him in the balls so hard he won't be fit to fuck anyone for a month."
I said "I'd like to get my cock up that combat skinhead's arse. The gang will be away for at least two hours. If we could capture these bastards we could get our revenge and be out of here before the others return."
The Angel said "I like your idea, kid, and I like your arse as well. I'm getting a hard on thinking of both of them. What's your name?"

The big Angel was called Frank, the other one was Ginger and they came from Kilbirnie, about 20 miles away. They had been in Greenock to exchange some engine parts with local Angels and on the way home had seen the building site. They decided to check it out for anything they could pick up and sell. They had unwittingly come across a gang bang on the site and suddenly found themselves the victims.

We crept to the door and watched the trio outside. Knuckles and Jazza were both naked and wrestling in the thick slimy mud (I got an instant hard on) while the third skinhead, Pete, dressed in muddy urban combat trousers and black bomber jacket, stood watching and cheering them on.

I was tempted to run out and join in. Their bodies slithering across one another as they tried to force the other face down in the mud. I wasn't the only one with a hard on. Both Knuckles and Jazza cocks were erect and solid. They looked great covered in the slimy mess. Subconsciously I rubbed my crotch.
"Keep it in." said Frank with a grin. "You don't want to shoot your juice until your cock's up one of their arses."
We continued to watch for several minutes as the two mud-covered bodies rolled and twisted. I think they were enjoying the roll about they had forgotten to try and fuck the other.

Finally Knuckles said "Pete. Help me get this bastard down. He's stronger than I am."
Pete joined in the wrestling but instead of pinning Jazza down he helped pin Knuckles face down. The big bastard was obviously enjoying himself and finally said "I suppose I'd better give up. Besides, I feel so randy I'd like a couple of good cocks up my arse."
He lay still in the mud and held his hands out to the steel ring at the base of the wall. Sitting astride the loser's back Jazza tied the guy's wrists to the ring.
"No way will you get out of that, mate." he said to the big skinhead, giving the ropes an extra knot.

I couldn't believe our luck. That was only two of them we had to deal with.
We were about to rush out and attack when Gary said "Wait a second and I'll try and get one of them in here."

A few seconds later he shouted "Sir. I'm getting cramp, Sir. Can you release me, Sir? Please Sir. I promise not to escape. Sir."
We waited to see the reaction. Jazza was kneeling in the mud between Knuckles' wide open legs and was just about ram his cock up his mates arse said to Pete "Go and find out what that bastard wants."
Pete rose, leaving Jazza alone with Knuckles, and entered the building not expecting trouble. Frank stepped from behind the door, put one hand over the skinhead's mouth and held the flick knife to his face.
"One word and this crosses your throat." he whispered.

A second later Ginger brought his knee up to Pete's balls. The skinhead gave a muffled gasp and sagged in Frank's arms. Frank let him fall softly to the floor and I quickly stuffed a rag into his mouth as a gag before he could regain his wits. He was then rolled on to his stomach, his wrists tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. It was all over in less than a minute.
Frank said to Gary "You stay with him while we get these bastards."

Seconds later three of us quietly ran out and caught Jazza completely by surprise. He put up a short struggle but the fact he was lying on top of Knuckles helped to pin him down. Within a minute we had the gang's second in command securely tied up. Gary brought out a sack and said "Put this over his head and tie it at the neck. If he manages to free himself he still has to untie the sack."
Knuckles struggled with the ropes holding him down but it was no use. Ginger sat on the bastard's back, pulled back his head and I pushed a gag into his mouth.

The three of us carried a struggling Jazza into the building and although he continued to struggle, had him standing spread-eagled in the middle of the room and his wrists tied to ropes from the overhead beams.
We then went out and brought in Knuckles. We tied his legs and fitted a sack over his head.
He offered no resistance as we carried him inside. Either he knew it was hopeless and was expecting to get beaten up or he wanted fucked by us. In a couple of minutes he was secured in the same position only ten feet from his mate.
Ginger pointed to Pete, the third skinhead.
"What do we do with this bastard?"

I had an idea. Pete was the same build as me. "I'll take that bastard's kit. I quite fancy wearing urban combat gear. He can wear my jeans and shirt and we can tie him to the ring outside. We put a sack over his head and when the rest return they'll see him, think it's me, piss over him and kick his balls."
I stripped off my muddy gear and Pete removed his kit surrounded by three of us wielding steel bars. He then ordered under threat of a steel bar hitting his balls to put on my shirt, jeans and boots. He was marched outside and lay down on his back in the mud pool offering no resistance. He was tied to the steel ring. Ginger ordered him to open his mouth and pushed a rag in it gagging him. Gary fitted a sack over his head and we then returned inside.

Frank said "Let's get a water hose and wash those bastards down, I want to see the bruises when I beat them up. That's after I ram my cock up this cunts arse" pointing to Knuckles.
He took a hose and hosed the two prisoners. Their sacks and gags were removed. Jazza said nothing but Knuckles was putting on a cocky air.
"I've seen your fuck'n cock. O.K. You've got a big one but I've taken a bigger one than yours. Go on. Ram it up my arse."
"You haven't cleaned out everything, Frank." I said.
He looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"You haven't cleaned out their arses. That bastard might not be so cocky with a hose pipe up it." I said.

Frank grinned and looked at his watch. "It's 4 o'clock. The other bastards won't be back until 5.30 p.m. We've an hour and a half. Plenty of time. He walked behind Knuckles and pushed the hose nozzle up the skinhead's arsehole. In less than a minute Knuckles was gritting his teeth and then shouted "You bastard, you can't scare the shit out of me." and then laughed at his unintentional pun.
Frank withdrew the hose and seconds later a jet of water and shit came out of Knuckles' arsehole. Frank pushed the nozzle up the skinhead's arse a second time, held it there and withdrew it. Again a jet of water with some shit spewed out.
Frank cleaned out the arse a third time. All the time Knuckles was cursing and swearing at us.

Ginger said "The bastard wouldn't be so cocky if he had ten Hell's Angels about to fuck him."
His mate suddenly grinned and said "Why not? Let's take the bastard back with us and get some of the gang round and have a gang bang."
Ginger said "O.K. I'll get the van and we'll load those two up and leave the other bastard in the mud. What about the two of you? Do you want to come?" he said to us.
I looked at Gary. He nodded.
I said to Frank "If you let me fuck you. I've always wanted to fuck a tough Hell's Angel."
Frank said "You can fuck me, mate. I like the size of your cock. You'll find other Angels love a big cock up their arse as well."

Ginger went off to fetch their transit van, which was parked 100 yards away. We tied a sack over Knuckles' head, untied his wrists from the beams and re-tied his wrists together then his feet together before bundling him into the van. We did the same with Jazza.
Frank wanted to burn the building down so we released Pete, dragged him to the van, tied him up and bundled him inside. We poured oil over the floor of the building and scattered newspapers soaked in petrol from the dumper truck. Gary took Knuckles' clothes as well as jeans, shirt and boots to fit Jazza.

"We should dress them both in typical skinhead gear, tight muddy jeans, checked shirt and filthy Doc Martens. It will be a turn on for the Angels when they fuck them." he said.
We also found some muddy army gear which fitted Gary and me. We fancied wearing the army gear when we fucked the skinheads.

Frank set light to the newspapers and some clothes and we sped off. The cops would get to the site before the skinhead gang and they would be shit scared thinking there were dead bodies in the site. A pity we couldn't wait to see their faces.
It was 20 miles to Kilbirnie. Frank got on to his mobile phone and arranged a Gang Bang.
When he came off the phone he told us another group of ten Angels from Kilwinning would be invited. I was looking forward to this evening but when Knuckles, Jazza and Pete were told thirty Hell's Angels were coming to our party I bet they were shitting themselves. Well, Pete was. Knuckles and Jazza would have if there had been any shit still up there arses.

 
 
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2012