Chapter 16

"Mum," Sarah cried as she burst into the lounge. "Oh hi Dad, where's Mum?"

"What is it, love?" The concerned face of Anne Dayton looked up from the doorway to the dining room to see their daughter holding baby Lara in a basket and put it down at the feet of her worried mother.

"Fine. Can you look after Lara please?"

"What?"

"It's only for two hours. Tabitha's been for a check-up and I'm meeting her." Anne looked down at the sleeping baby in the basket, still undisturbed by the swinging her daughter had just inflicted upon it in the wicker travelling cot.

"Are you alright dear?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. There are spare nappies and stuff in this bag, two bottles and two cartons of milk. And a spare change of clothes. You remember how to change a nappy?" Anne scowled at Sarah as she slid off a backpack and nodded towards her. "Sure?"

"I'm fine. What is going on?"

"I'm doing something I should have done awhile ago."

"What is it?" Anne asked but her daughter had gone. The front door closed and she turned to her husband, who had put his newspaper down and watched as his daughter ran past the lounge window.

There was a whimper by her feet and she looked down to see baby Lara stretching and opening her eyes.

"Well you said," George Dayton muttered, but his wife sneered.

"I am doing dinner," she told him and passed him the bag. "Bond with your grand-daughter. And don't forget to support its head."

George hissed and protested but got little sympathy from his wife. He undid the bag and got the baby out of the cot, supporting the mixed-race infant by its head. Lara looked up into George's eyes and he rocked it slowly, smiling involuntarily.

Lara spluttered and cried, the loud cacophony coming from such as a small baby and George yelled into the kitchen. "It's crying."

"I can hear. Give it something to eat," Anne told him. "It's about dinner time."

George grumbled and put the baby down on the floor while he fished around in the bag before extracting a carton of milk and a bottle. He rubbed his nose and shook the milk before trying to open the top.

It split where he was not expecting it and spilt it over him and the carpet. He swore loudly but managed to fill the bottle and glanced over at the crying baby, holding the bottle up. The baby's mouth closed around the bottle and George smiled as a few bubbles rose to the surface as Lara ingested the milk.

"You haven't warmed it up," Anne shrieked as she came into the room. "And hold the poor thing."

"Does it need to be warm?" George asked and Anne shook her head.

"Yes. I'll get some hot water, stop feeding it cold milk. Honestly..." Anne chastised her husband and strode into the dining room, towards the kitchen to retrieve a jug of hot water.

George received screaming for him removing the bottle and put it to one side. "I don't know what she is moaning about," he cooed as he picked up the baby. "You want cool milk, don't you?"

Lara's mouth opened wider as she screamed into the room, belched and covered the front of her "grand-father" in vomit.

Carl ripped the underwear off the blonde woman who was pushed up against the rough seats in the back of the minibus. He glanced up at the window; he did not want to be disturbed and kissed the rotund woman. "Ya got more tats," he told her as she hiked up her shirt above the paunch.

She grunted and nodded. "Yeah. Down Stoke way. Come on, 'fore Richard sees us."

Carl snorted and peeled his trousers down, taking out his erect cock. Mary cooed at him and blew him a kiss as she gripped his rigid member, pumping it slightly with a smile.

"Richard, he can't get it up," she told him for the fourth week in a row. Carl grinned as she slid his cock towards her hairy crotch and he gripped the back of the seat to gain leverage to thrust his hips forward.

Mary's moistening hole willingly accepted Carl's member and she grunted as he pushed forward, closing her eyes. She pushed her fingers down her overweight body and let them rest at the top of her slit. From her angle, lay down across the back seat, and Carl's position of leaning against the back seat, she was able to slide her fingers around her clitoris with ease.

Carl grunted and moved his left hand to grope her breasts. Mary looked up at him and groaned. "What ya gonna do to that Paki scum?"

"Fuckin' beat 'em up," Carl told her and rammed his cock against Mary. She swore and sneered.

"And rape 'em?"

"Show the dirty fuckers what a real man is like," Carl replied and squeezed Mary's breast.

"Yeah?"

Carl's rhythm speeded up and he looked out of the back of the minibus, picturing himself screwing a reluctant Asian girl who writhed underneath him. Mary slid down the seat slightly and pushed her legs as high as her body would allow.

Carl closed his eyes and groaned, matching the nasal sounds Mary was making. She squealed and told him to "hurry the fuck up." Carl felt his testicles begin to tighten and felt an urge from within him. He tensed his internal muscles, and increased his speed.

"Oh shit," he cried and gripped the back of the worn fabric, looking up at the clouds making lazy shapes in the sky. Carl screwed up his face as he felt the unbearable pressure in his loins. Mary squirmed and he grunted as the first wave of semen squirted down his cock and pumped into the overweight adulteress.

Mary looked up at her partner with lustful eyes and caressed his back as his body tingled and spewed three more waves of semen into his cheating partner. She grunted and wriggled away as Carl mewed appreciatively. "Get cleaned up," she told him clinically. She passed him a tissue and he wiped his cock, watching her as she mopped up the dripping deposit from her loins.

Carl smiled uncomfortably and looked around the minibus. "Ya sure no-one can see us."

"Bit fuckin' late," she warned him and fastened her clothes again. "I parked it 'ere for a reason. Now fuck off 'fore ya seen. Go kick some Paki brains in."

Carl nodded and smiled nervously. "Sure." He stepped off of the minibus and closed the door behind him; Mary said she wanted to allow her lover chance to leave the area before she disembarked and watched as Carl looked up and down the street. He could hear shouting and sirens to his left and smiled as he started walking towards it.

Someone was going to get their heads kicked in and the anti-fascist brigade rarely stood a chance. There was a deathly silence as he walked down the road, the terraced houses bereft of life and energy and he smiled; the Police had warned there would be trouble but they were chronically outnumbered. His group of assorted militants had the run of the streets of the Northern town, beating up gays, ethnic minorities and left-wingers. It was if Nazi England was born for just a few hours.

Carl knew it wouldn't last. The Police would arrive in minutes in strength and then they would melt away into the countryside but it was good while it lasted. After viciously bashing in the face of a Muslim student, Carl had sought the wife of Richard, their imperious leader, and taken her for their usual embrace in the back of Richard's minibus. Now sated, he was eager to do a bit more breaking of bones before the Police stopped their party.

"Ow," he cried as he felt himself bundled to the side and down an alleyway and up against a wall. He brought his fists up, ready to smash them into the side of a Communist when he saw the familiar face of Eric.

"Where you off to?"

"Checking van," Carl grunted and the fat face of Eric sneered.

"Richard wants ya."

Carl looked at him intently, trying to read him for clues - surely Richard didn't know about his secret liaisons with Mary? "Sure," Carl said without thinking. "Where is he?"

"Over there," Eric muttered and pointed to an adjacent primary school. "Away from pigs." Carl watched Eric as he backed away, swinging his shoulder around. It still hurt from where Eric piled onto him in the alleyway against the wall but he walked down the alleyway and jumped over the low fence into the driveway of the primary school.

"Richard," Carl called out as he walked to the end of the small drive and past the empty car parking spaces. The small school, grey and foreboding surrounded him and he started walking around it.

His heart was beating fast; Richard didn't want to meet him on an abandoned playground to wish him well; this was going to end in a fight and Carl checked his pockets for his knuckle-duster. The playground was empty but he looked and saw three figures, standing with their arms crossed on the edge of the small field.

The field was lined with trees and although the school was overlooked on every side, the small grassy area was completely shielded. Carl gulped. "Richard," he called with inappropriate gaiety. "Ya wanted me."

Richard cleared his throat and watched as the man tentatively approached him. He was over 6ft 4in in height and glared at Carl with thick-set eyes. "How long ya been fucking my wife?"

Carl gulped and licked his lips. "Listen mate, I dunno what..."

"I fuckin' saw ya. In Preston. In Darwen and now."

Carl pursed his lips together and glanced away. "A couple of times," he said tersely. "She wants it."

Richard sniffed and looked at the nervous man watching for a reaction. "The slut might want it. But a fellow soldier. A warrior. A brother. It's worse than a fuckin' wog doin' her."

Carl held his hands out. "It was just a one off," he cried and Richard shook his head slowly.

"Ya a traitor," he told him. "Ya fuckin' the wives."

Carl shook his head. "No just Mary."

He sneered. "Well the lads want to give ya a hidin'."

Carl shrugged. "Prob'ly deserve it," he replied, knowing that he was going to get a battering no matter what happened. He reached into his pocket and felt for his weapon: he didn't want to use it against his brothers-in-arms, but they would leave him no choice.