Turning Terry

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Turning TerryIt was on my first Friday evening behind the bar of the “Elephant and Castle” that I saw Terry for the first time. He was with a group of half-a-dozen men who I quickly labelled “aggressively gay”, as demonstrated by both their clothing and behaviour. I had nothing against gay men, obviously, but this group’s loud obnoxious behaviour would have been unpleasant whatever their sexuality. In fact, I decided it was almost as if they were challenging anyone to object to their behaviour, so they could instantly scream “homophobe” and “Nazi”. One in particular, a middle-aged man wearing scarlet lipstick and nail varnish, seemed determined to live up to the worst stereotype of a “screaming queen”.One member of the group seemed different, though. He was obviously reluctant to join in the raucous laughter and shrieking and looked almost embarrassed by the behaviour of his companions. When it came to his turn to get the drinks, he seemed relieved to leave the table for the relative quiet of the bar.I smiled at him. “What can I get you?” I asked, and the young man gave the order: two pints of lager, vodka and Red Bull, a Chenin Blanc, a rum and coke, and finally a pint of real ale, which I knew from my observations was for himself.“I’ve not seen you here before,” he said, while I was sorting out the drinks.“No, it’s my first week. I used to work at the “Rose and Crown”, but they’re closed for refurbishment, so the owners put in a word for me here.”“I’m sorry about my friends,” the young man continued with a little smile. “We come in here most Friday evenings, and some of them do get a bit loud. Don’t worry about telling them to turn it down a bit if it gets too much. The other barmaids always do.”“Thanks for the advice, I’ll bear it in mind. I’m Annie, by the way.”“Pleased to meet you, Annie. I’m Terry. I’ll probably see you next week.”He picked up the tray of drinks and went back to the table. And that was the last time I spoke to him that evening.******The following Friday week they were in again. This time I watched them more carefully, and it quickly became clear that Terry and the obnoxious loud guy (who was called Gary) were in some sort of relationship, though it seemed to be based largely on Gary bossing Terry around in a rather aggressive way. If one of my boyfriends had spoken to me like that, I’d have given them a piece of my mind, but Terry seemed almost afraid to speak out of turn.I also noticed him looking over towards me several times, and once he even gave bahis siteleri me a shy smile. I smiled back, and he quickly looked away, as if afraid that Gary might notice. Then I noticed Gary handing Terry a debit card and sending him up to the bar.“Hi Terry,” I said with a friendly smile, “What are you all having this time?”He gave the order, and we made idle conversation while I pulled the first couple of pints of lager, before I decided to ask a cheeky question.“That guy, Gary, is he your boyfriend?” I asked as casually as I could.“Yes, I guess so. We live together, anyway,” he said, seeming almost embarrassed.Right on cue, I heard Gary’s voice.“Oi, Twinkie, get a move on, where’s my fucking drink?”A look of real pain flashed across Terry’s face; in fact, I’d almost have called it hatred.“Just coming,” he said, and gave me a strange look. I thought he was going to say something, but he just picked up the tray of drinks and went back to the table.Dave the landlord saw me looking at them. “There’s something not right about those two,” he said. “I’ve noticed it before. That Gary seems like a right shit, and the way he treats the lad is really creepy. If Terry was a woman, I’d call it an abusive relationship.”“Guys can be victims too,” I said. “Not all gay relationships are perfect.”“That’s true, I guess. And another thing: you know that debit card Gary gave him; it’s not Gary’s, it belongs to the lad. I’ve seen the name on it.”That really got me worried. It sounded like a typical abusive thing to do. But I couldn’t prove anything, and maybe Terry was just careless with his stuff, and Gary was doing him a favour by looking after his cards. Or so I told myself, though I didn’t believe it.******The next week I wasn’t working on Friday, so it was two weeks before I saw Terry again. And when I did, I was shocked. He had a big bruise on the side of his face and a black eye.“You’ve been in the wars,” I commented when he came up to get his round.“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said. “I got a bit pissed last weekend and walked into a door.”“Walked into a door”, I thought. “Seriously, no-one believes that old cliché”. I gave him a look that showed I didn’t believe him, and I could tell he knew.“Look, Terry, you take care,” I said, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.“Thanks, Annie, I will,” he said, and went back to the table.My mind was swirling while I served the next customer. It was pretty clear that someone had hit Terry, and who else could it be but Gary? I knew enough about domestic canlı bahis siteleri abuse to know I couldn’t call the police myself without better evidence, and even if they did go round it could end up making things worse for the victim. But I wanted him to know that there was somewhere he could go if he wanted help. I found a beer mat and scribbled my address and mobile number on it. Then, when I saw Terry going downstairs to the Gents, I asked Dave to mind the bar and followed him down. I lurked in the doorway of the Ladies’ and when Terry came out, I slipped the beermat into his pocket.He was about to say something, but I shushed him.“Just call me if you need to talk,” I said. “Or come round. Seriously, I mean it.”“Thanks Annie,” he said, looking relieved. Before I could say anything else I heard Gary’s voice.  “What the fuck are you doing, Twinkie? How long does it take to have a piss? Get upstairs, we’re going home.”“Seriously, Terry,” I said, “call me.”I think he heard the worry in my voice, and he nodded as he went back upstairs. I felt I’d done as much as I could, and only hoped it was the right thing.******Three days passed. Then I was in the kitchen boiling the kettle for tea when my phone warbled. It was a text from Terry.“I’ve done it. I’ve walked out. Can I see you?”“Sure, come to the flat, just buzz and I’ll let you in,” I replied quickly.“Thanks! I’m outside.”And right on cue the buzzer sounded. I pushed the button to let him in downstairs, and two minutes later there he was on my doorstep, wearing a heavy-looking rucksack and a grateful look on his face.“Oh god, Annie, I don’t how to thank you,” he began, but I dragged him in quickly and shut the door.“Right, get that bag and coat off, go through there and I’ll get us a drink,” I ordered. I re-boiled the kettle, found another mug, and, in true English style, made us two strong mugs of Yorkshire tea. Terry was sitting nervously on the sofa when I went into the front room.“I’m sorry”, he blurted out as he took the mug I offered him, “But you did say I should get in touch. And I couldn’t think of anyone else.”“I’m so glad you did,” I said, giving him an awkward hug while he tried not to spill tea all over me. “So, what happened?”He told the whole story; how Gary had been especially awful the night before, over some tiny perceived misdemeanour, and then slapped him when he tried to defend himself, before flouncing out. So, Terry had gathered as many belongings as he could fit into his bag, broken into canlı bahis Gary’s desk to get his cards, passport, and driving licence, and fled without leaving a note.“It wasn’t ‘til I was in the street that I thought about where I was going to go,” he admitted. “I was going to get a train somewhere, anywhere, just to get away, but then I remembered what you’d said. And I though if maybe I could just stay over for tonight, you might help me come up with something.”I hugged him again. And somehow the hug went on, and I could feel his heart beating against mine. I pulled my head away and looked at him; he looked at me; and I saw something in his eyes that made me do something surprising. I leant in and kissed him, not platonically on the cheek but full on the mouth, pushing my tongue against his lips. He moaned as he opened his mouth and our tongues met and entwined. I lowered my hands to his arse, squeezed his cheeks, and pulled his crotch against mine. I could feel the bulge of his cock against my thigh.“Oh God, Annie,” he mumbled as we snogged. “I don’t know…”“I do,” I said, “And from what I can feel down there, you do too.” I reached down and stroked his shaft, which was already hard down his trouser leg.“Fuck, Annie, I want you so much,” he said. I felt his hand slide between our bodies and cup my right breast. “Oh Jesus,” he continued as he realised I was braless.“Here, have a proper feel,” I said, pulling off my top. He gaped for a moment at the sight of my perky little tits, their pink nipples already hard with excitement. I gave them a little jiggle to encourage him, and he bent over and took my left nipple in his mouth, while tweaking at the right one with his fingers. I let out a little gasp: it felt so good. He sucked on my left bud, caressing it with his lips, before teasing it gently with his teeth. I whimpered as he began to knead my other boob.“Is that okay,” he asked nervously, and I realised it was probably a long time since he’d played with a woman’s breasts.“Yes, it’s lovely,” I reassured him. “I just get so wet when someone sucks my nipples like that.”He began to tongue my little buds again. It was fun, but I wanted to see what he had to offer in the trouser department. So, I groped at his crotch, where his bulge felt even bigger, and popped the button on his fly, then unzipped it. I reached in to find his cock, and to my delight found that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. My hand grasped his shaft, and I pulled it out of his trousers.“Oh wow,” I said. He was big, really big, and so thick I couldn’t get my hand right round it. I gave the hot shaft a few gentle rubs, feeling it throb at my touch. A small trickle of pre-cum dribbled out, helping to lubricate the swollen head.

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