"Neville" written by Robin P
Neville.
And now for something completely different, I propose an interactive story where you, dear reader, dictate what happens next.
I will set the scene, or at least create some of the characters, but then ask you to suggest what happens from my last full stop. Bearing in mind the forum we are on, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination, but it does mean you will need to think a bit and then commit it to the board.
Good luck!
Okay; our hero, and I use the term loosely, is in his late teens around eighteen or nineteen. He has grown physically as much as he is likely to, until that is, he reaches middle age, where he will grow sideways in the midriff location and his hair will grow in sporadic areas of his head, but that is in the future and we are dealing with the present here. Neville lives with his parents. For the purposes of me setting the scene, this is in an urban area of south London in the UK. The parents are only incidental to the story line, so we won’t mention them.
He suffers with the affliction that most young men are afflicted with, in so much as, the bullet falls out of the end of the barrel, a little bit before the gun goes bang! The final product prematurely arrives before the event has really started. This happens when he is faced with the opportunity of copulating with a member of the opposite sex, but not when he is exercising his right wrist while perusing various girly magazines. Funny, the way it affects men and a shame really.
Neville is painfully shy, no doubt brought on by the other affliction of youth, acne and the breaking out of pustules over his youthful skin. He is somewhat gangly, being quite tall, but slender to the point of emaciated, almost. He eats prodigious amounts of food, but for some reason, his metabolism processes the various influxes of protein and carbohydrates way too fast for fat to accumulate.
Neville has a companion; a dog of questionable lineage. Her fore-runners were the product of an illicit liaison between an Alsatian and a greyhound, but that was way back. Since then, her pedigree has been further diluted over the generations by further illicit liaisons with mongrels of equally questionable parentage. She is a dog. This is obvious by the fact that she has four legs, a tail and a cold wet nose. Oh! And the occasional barking, usually late at night when a fox passes through the garden, and always ends up with Neville kicking her off the bed. Her coat might be described as multi-coloured, it might be described as brindle, but that would be stretching things a bit too far. Neville calls her, a little unimaginatively, Spot. Is it any wonder she suffers with a complex?
Spot is of medium height, perhaps two feet to the shoulder. For some reason, she is devoted to Neville, lavishing her undiluted love on the hapless youth. They have been companions for four or five years, she chose him as her master, preferring him over the rest of Neville’s family. She will, on occasion, sleep on top of the covers on Neville’s bed and so, has witnessed his often painful transformation from gangly child to even more gangly young man, and how testosterone production has ravaged his developing body.
She has even developed an appreciation for Neville’s music that has lots of thumps in it, interspersed with bangs and unrelated vocal renditions all called pop or garage or grunge or some such.
Spot and Neville share their affections with Sarah.
Now chalk and cheese rarely get on together, but somehow, the relationship has survived even when Sarah’s clothing and other unlikely places, have suffered from the affliction hinted at above, his inability to control ejaculation. Neville keeps a supply of condoms, but has yet to really need one; the event is over before he can enshroud his hard-on with the rubber meant to prevent the escape of his virulent seed.
Sarah is a pretty girl, about the same height as Neville at around five foot eight. She isn’t fat, but neither is she skinny, she kind of fills out in all the right places and gives a healthy and interesting shape to her clothing. Sarah is also in possession of a prodigious sense of patience and she needs it.
Oh! I forgot to mention, she also has a dog. A large brutish looking Airdale Terrier, complete with wiry hair and a mean temperament if you aren’t one of his friends. Hamish (the poor dog’s name) adored his mistress and for some reason, liked her dopy boyfriend.
It is a warm summer day. The four of them had piled into Neville’s rusting heap of a Ford Sierra and driven for an afternoon on the Sussex Downs. Presently, they are over looking Brighton, the Marina and a sparkling English channel beyond. Spot is not interested in the advances of Hamish and had warned him twice now, that if he stuck his nose once more where it was not wanted, he would get a clump and no mistake.
Neville was feeling randy. Neville always felt randy, time location or appropriateness meant nothing to his raging hormones. Sarah was mildly aroused, (blame it on pheromones) but some way off stripping her clothes off or seriously hot to trot.
Over to you dear reader; I have set this with a certain amount of humorous capability, or at least, my version of humour, but it is up to you to take it on from here. Let the imagination run wild, fill your boots and be a crazy as you like and best of luck.
Oh! By the way, I will accept no excuses for poor English, punctuation or anything else, you have a mind and an imagination, go wit hit and let us see what happens okay.
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Show me the story at BeastForum.com or more information about Robin P
Robin P also wrote these stories:
Sal's Love
April
My First Time (part 2)
Trinity
Neville
Dog Day
A Dog's Perspective
Alanna's Story
A Meeting Of Minds
Buffy
Bernard
Cadbury In Service
Wild Child
Role Play
Rambo
Jane's Safari
Home Alone
Fairy Story
First Experience
Genetic Modification
Retribution
Lisa
Moon Phases
Mated With Bruno
My First Time (part1)
A Meeting Of Minds
The Stray
Ruth
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