Prologue

“Give me a toke...” Nineteen year old Bruce Nelson said as he changed from fifth gear to third as he pushed down hard on the brake pedal of the one litre Ford Fiesta ST (or ‘Ford fucking STI’ as his on/off girlfriend called it), the tyres barely keeping their grip on the road surface as the car followed a line through the corner that would have made any professional driver wince. Bruce took a long drag on the spliff and handed it back as he mashed the accelerator. The rev counter went into the red as the modified silencer screamed out into the surrounding Scottish valley, startling everything nearby with the ability to hear.

Climbing up and down the gears as though he was rally driver with the championship at state, Bruce threw his car into every corner with abandon. A rise was coming up that he knew would get some air between the road and the tyres, which had, until his smoky doughnuts in the Asda carpark the previous night, held barely enough tread to be legal.

Eighteen year old William Chandler, Cully to his mates, sat in the front passenger seat, lowered his window and tossed out his empty beer bottle and turned to Nic and George in the back. “Pass me another. Have you fucked Louise up the shitter yet Nic?”

Eighteen year old Nicolas Scott Adams, who had been nicknamed NASA by the teachers in school because his head was forever in the clouds, hit the top of a bottle with another, removing both caps. He handed one to Cully. “Aye, made her squeal. Took her real deep. Maybe I should have used some lube, but the bitch knows her place and adopted the position when I told her I wanted some of that fat ass.”

Cully knocked his bottle against Nics. “Way to go my man, show the cunts whose boss, I say.”

“Aye. I pulled out at the end and came over her face. Made the cunt lick and suck me clean. Shit and cum and all.”

The other three cheered and shouted out in chorus, “Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen...”

Then they all cheered again as the Fiesta hurtled over the rise and all their stomachs went light and funny like they were on a rollercoaster. There was a bang and scrape as the lowered springs hit their bump stops and the bottoms of the aftermarket body kit and extra wide wheel arches scrapped against the road surface.

“Take ‘em up the shitter, and there’ll be no screaming litter...” George Allen remarked with every bit of knowledgeable sincerity one would expect of an eighteen-in-four-days year old virgin. For which he was.

“Aye, aint that the Gods truth” Nic agreed, conveniently forgetting the actual truth of the matter, which was that he had tried, only for Louise to immediately push him away and declare that if he wanted to stick his cock in there, he would have to take her dildo in his own hole first. And that thing was a fucking damn monster, so he had backed down instantly. She hadn’t stopped there though, and had proceeded to put her cunt out of bounds as punishment for him even trying anal without her consent in the first place. Wouldn’t even suck him off or give him a hand shandy. Sent him home with blue balls. The bitch.

George lit another joint and passed it around, hoping that none of the other boys asked him about his entirely fictional sexual conquests.

Bruce changed through the gears again in an overly dramatic and needlessly violent manner, because he knew that it looked cool. Made him look cool. He was cool personified, all the local girls wanted him to be their significant other.

The revs were in the red again, he could change up a gear, but that would kills some of the growl coming out the back. Bruce flick his gaze to the speedo. One hundred and eight miles an hour on a Scottish highland ‘B’ road, no fucker around for miles. This was the awesome life. There was plenty of straight left, he could get up to one hundred and fifteen easy. The speedo climbed.

A car appeared in the distance from around the corner. Bruce could tell by the shape of the front, that it was a Volvo 850 estate. Only one person in the area drove a car like that and it was the old bint that lived in the castle. Ninety odd fucking years old and drove everywhere at thirty miles an hour and was a god damn menace to everyone who had places to be. It was Thursday evening, so she would be going to the Women’s Rural Club in the village hall where all the old bastards congregated to moan about Bruce and his pals. Since she would otherwise be engaged, no doubt putting another complaint into Police Scotland and making ‘Speed kills’ posters with the rest of the coffin dodgers, they could pay a visit to her castle and do doughnuts in her courtyard leaving rubber tyre marks everywhere.