The Seagull

I'm fucking my neighbour's wife. I'm on the way down, I want to go all the way down.

This morning something thudded off the kitchen window. At first I thought the little shits next door had lost another football. Then I saw the seagull. It was twitching on the patio, its wings kept scrabbling on the concrete. I drank a glass of grapefruit juice as I watched it die.

I'll call her over after lunch, when she's done the housework and the kids are still at school. I'll fuck her in the arse. I'll bend her over my wife's side of the bed and twist her arms behind her back and call her a whore and fuck her in the arse. She loves it when I call her a whore. So do I. It's all we have in common.

I pad naked around the house, on the fitted cream carpets, my hairy gut hanging over my cock and balls. I go to the bedroom and look at myself in the mirror in the wardrobe door. I turn side on so I can see the big fat gut in profile with the nasty little cock below it. It's standing up, my dirty little prick, worming out of its flabby cave. I cleared out the wardrobe the other day, found a couple of those fitted white tee-shirts I used to wear, tried one on. I used to look like a US Marine on the first day of boot camp, skinny arms with the bright cotton tight around them and the veiny neck sticking out the top. Used to wear them when I travelled, every sweaty continent with the same white tee-shirts stuck to my back. Now my gut's so big I could hardly get the fucking thing on. I stood there looking like a big fat poof with a tee shirt half way up my belly, wondering why the fuck I'm still alive.

That fucking bitch. I watched her wave the brats to school. Watched her kiss hubby goodbye. I had my hand on my cock the whole fucking time, watching her through the living room window with my hand in my dressing gown stroking my cock. I'll teach her to be such a whore. I'll make her drink my piss and eat my shit. I won't. It doesn't matter. I start to wank myself off in front of the mirror. I have to hold my belly up with one hand while I get myself started with finger and thumb. That fucking slut. I've spunked in her mouth, I've spunked in her cunt, I've spunked on her big floppy tits. I've jizzed all over her. I must remember to put a wash on. I'll be in trouble if I don't. Down on her knees like a little girl with my meat slamming into her and her hair in my hand like a cockhorse rein. I'll make her squeal like a little girl. Mummy's little girl. Little girl, little fucking ten year old girl doing cartwheels in the garden why don't you come next door cause mummy's got something to show you. Mummy's going to teach you. That birdboned body, those tiny hands, that tiny fucking sparrow's mouth. The scouring pad for the dishes is worn right through. I'll have to buy a new multipack. I'll fuck her so hard I'll break her bones. I'll tear her cunt in half. I'll take a knife – I know which knife! I've got the knife! I know which knife I'll use! I'll take the bread knife from the magnetic rack on the kitchen wall and I'll saw through her throat while I cream inside her and blood'll slide down like a wine red skirt and spread across the sheets, that awful ragged gasping, and I'll feel her tighten around my cock, yes, death will suck my cock, death, death, death lives in her cunt, death stalks our windowed lives, and I'm going to find him, going to see my own life clear and hard and flat, going to see my face, my flabby ugly face, with the sky and clouds streaked across it, going to fly towards it, closer and closer, faster and faster, till I split my skull against the glass.