Usually I’m not the kinda guy to end things prematurely, but you may have noticed that a certain scene in my movie (I know you know the one I mean) got cut off before it really had a chance to get started. So here it is, for all your perverted pegging pleasure: my full-length, uncut account of International Women’s Day.

He can feel them both everywhere, standing between the two of them like this. He can feel the way the sweat drips down his back, Simon’s breath on his back, the hard surface of the boat under his hands.

“Poor thing,” he croons, patting over his pussy like he’s consoling it, not him and fuck that shouldn’t make him drip; the wet sound echoing in his ears. “Just want attention, don’t ya? Dumb fucks here don’t know what they’ve been given. Should be fuckin’ lined up to put you in your place.” Johnny’s skin heats and he can only hope it doesn’t spread far enough down for him to see as he shifts restlessly on the bed. “Big talk fer a man behind a wall,” he spits. “Harsh words for a slag flashin’ ‘is cunt,” he shoots back.