Nigel’s new flatmate turns out to be a trashy chav, and Nigel’s not sure how to take it! Luckily he’s a handsome, muscle-bound chav with meat to spare, and Nigel’s gonna have to take it whether he wants it or not!
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Nigel became more and more nervous as he settled into the new flat in the Toppenlad Housing Estate. He had been thinking, “oh, it’s not a big deal, I just need a place to live, it’s not a marriage, it’s just a flat”. He didn’t sign a long-term lease, so what did it matter if he didn’t like the cupboard doors? The wallpaper in the toilet was disgusting, but that was hardly worth complaining about, was it?
Now that he was in though, these concerns seemed increasingly important. Could he live with that creepy wallpaper? It looked like a bunch of werewolves who were unaccountably also Italian waiters, watching him sit on the commode. It wasn’t even a bathroom-wallpaper, it was clearly intended for kitchens.
The flat wasn’t a dump… But it was hardly nice, either. Nigel couldn’t put a cosy spin on it. It was in a shitty housing estate. The neighbours were all well chavvy. The furniture was shit. The buzzer was broken, and the way that was explained to him suggested that Nigel should not expect it to ever be fixed. The hot water was inconsistent, one wall was perpetually sodden, the windows were drafty and hadn’t been cleaned in years.
But Nigel couldn’t afford anything more. He was straight-up skint these days. That was the main reason he didn’t move out. There was a grace period in the lease, after all, he could have changed his mind.
Another reason was that his flatmate seemed to be a sterling bloke. He was working class for sure, not that Nigel was classist. The flatmate was tall and broad-jawed, almost noble-looking in a way, if you ignored the tracksuit and the trainers. But he wasn’t a chav at all.
Or at least, he wasn’t a chav at that time. When Nigel talked to him before moving in, he spoke with a definite Essexer accent, but he wasn’t a chav. He had dressed well, like he had an actual job, and even tucked his shirt in. He wore nice trousers. He had shaved that morning, his hair was clean.
That lasted until the first evening. At first, Nigel thought that his flatmate — Connor Muttright — was affecting a chavvy accent as a joke. Nigel even joined in for fun.
It wasn’t until Nigel was about ready for bed and he saw hoodied-up Connor outside with his friends drinking lager from brown paper bags that Nigel realised he had always been a chav. He was no better than any of the other neighbors. He was a wideboy, a yobbo, capable of passing as a normal Englishman for as much time as it took to get Nigel to move in. Now it made sense — Connor had said finding a flatmate was hard. The last person to move in didn’t stick around. That last person must have realised his flatmate was a chav and departed. Connor tricked Nigel into accepting the room by pretending he was a respectable man.
Now he was out there hooting at passersby, whilst Nigel tried to sleep in his new bed. Sleep was hard to come by that night.
Dressed in his Burberry hoodie, Connor returned to the flat a little after midnight, when Nigel was still tossing and turning. Even sober, Connor rampaged like a drunken chav, bumping into furniture and laughing so hard Nigel wondered if he brought a hyena home with him. Finally there was a period of silence, just a few seconds long before it was interrupted by a torrent of coughing.
That was followed by some feminine moans. Had he brought a girl here? No, Nigel realised, the sound was flat, electronic, synthesized. It was porn. He was watching porn, quite possibly on Nigel’s computer. Nigel considered getting up to complain.
But before he could decide whether or not to do that, the door to his room crept open. Connor stood there in the doorway smoking a roll-up — or was it cannabis? It might have been. Nigel didn’t know, it didn’t smell like the tobaco he was familiar with. Nigel’s heart raced — Connor thought he was asleep, and had come in here to watch him slumber? What did he intend to do? This didn’t feel safe. The porn could still be heard through the cheap computer speakers attached to Nigel’s laptop out in the other room.
“Oi,” Connor said, a few times until Nigel lifted his head, pretending to be groggy. Connor’s voice was unnaturally baritone, harsh, syllabic, slightly slurred from lager. “Oi. Orite? Oi!” Connor smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He was tautly muscled, in a too-small vest that his body was ready to bust out of. His musculature looked painful, like his strength might give up and leave his frame anytime. He sat and took a deep breath, weary from drink. “It’s good you moved in, innit? You crazy baa-sted. Nigel. Niiiii-gel.” That made him laugh, and the sound of his own laughter made it turn into a coarse guffaw, like he thought he was laughing with some other person in the room.
“Uh-huh.” Nigel was too nervous to be offended.
“You is pretty little,” he said. One of his hands gripped Nigel’s arm and squeezed as though searching for biceps. Nigel was a small man, not weak for his size, but trim, slim, not muscled like Connor. Connor’s hands were rough like tarmac. He scoffed. “You should bulk up wiff me and me crew.”
“Oh. Uh… Okay,” Nigel said.
“You got a slag?”
“Not… really.” Nigel didn’t want to explain that he was single by choice, and if he were to date, he would not date a slag. He was waiting to be set up with a proper woman, not a slag, not a chavette. Nigel’s tone communicated, however, that his situation was complicated, that he had a woman who was something less than a girlfriend but more than a female friend. That was not what Nigel intended to convey, but he sensed that that was how Connor took it.
“Hmmm… Bring ‘er ova some’ime,” Connor said.
“I don’t, uh…” Nigel’s voice trailed off because Connor’s heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and Nigel couldn’t tell if Connor was even aware it was there. Nigel wished he was the confident, confrontational kind of man who would tell Connor off.
“I could use a slag, Nigel,” he said. He placed one of his hands on Nigel’s back. He had big hands, heavy and callused so they scratched as he dragged them along the surface of Nigel’s smooth back.
“Oh yeah.”
“You wanna be me mate, innit?”
“Yeah,” Nigel said. That was not exactly true. Nigel had no desire for a chav as a mate, but he certainly didn’t want one as an enemy either. For now, it was best to go along to get along.
“Good, mate,” Connor said. “I think you’ll be a good flatmate.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know about that tradition we got ’round here, innit? On this estate, on your first night in, you give in.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Nigel didn’t normally curse, but he was both fed up and tired, and he wanted to seem less stuck-up to Connor.
Connor smiled, a cruel mischievous smile that suggested he was making all this up. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Your first night ‘ere, you must… be me bottom. You know… take some dick. Get me off.”
A long, awkward silence filled Nigel’s bedroom. At first he thought he had misheard Connor, then he caught the unmistakeable look on Connor’s face in the dim light that spilled in from the hallway. It was clear he was serious. He truly wanted Nigel to jerk him off, maybe more than that.
And Nigel did want to do it. As a fervent admirer of the male form, he enjoyed Connor’s musculature and the handsome sturdiness of his face. But he found his chavviness and his ill-bred manners offputting.
Nevertheless… The heat emanating from Connor’s powerful body was alluring, and Nigel found his hand touching Connor’s well-muscled back whether he wanted to or not.
“What, really?”
“Yes, really,” Connor said. He took off his flat cap and began to undress. His body swayed as if he was on a boat, but Connor didn’t seem to notice that. He almost fell off the bed when he lifted his vest off over his head.
Nigel gulped nervously. Was this really normal in this estate? Was it a trick? He didn’t know much about chavs beyond what he saw on old episodes of The Jeremy Kyle Show. This didn’t seem like the kind of things the Jeremy Kyle chavs would do, but then, if they did do this — cornholing, jerking off, ramrodding — they would hardly talk about it on Jeremy Kyle.
In any case, Nigel was hardly in a position to lecture Connor about proper chav behavior.
Soon enough, Connor’s muscled body was bare, his trackpants crumpled up on the floor. His tattooed chest rippled, and he licked his teeth as he stood up next to the bed. He let out a lager-scented belch, which made him laugh and that in turn made his cock jiggle. That cock was thick and long, already half-hard because he had started watching porn before coming in Nigel’s room and some of his erection from then remained.
“Connor-?”
“Sssh…” Connor’s hands gripped Nigel’s head and kneaded the skin of his face as though trying to rearrange his features.
Connor’s dick srayed left and right above his head. Nigel was still laying there, in the same position as when he had been pretending to sleep. Now it was all happening so fast. He sat up, moving away from the edge of the bed so he didn’t get bonked on the forehead by Connor’s cock.
“Open up, mate, lemme in there,” Connor said. He pulled his gold chains around backwards, so they were on his back. His dick was thick and gleamed with moisture, either precum or sweat or maybe a bit of both. The smell of unwashed ballsweat filled the air.
Connor hopped up onto the bed and straddled Nigel’s chest with his massive thighs. His balls touched Nigel’s skin, and Nigel gasped. His mouth opened, Connor’s cock sliding right in.
The taste of dickmeat exploded in Nigel’s mouth, all salty and warm, a little grimy, with the sourwater flavour of Special Brew coating it as though Connor had spilled it on himself, despite an ASVO telling him he can’t drink. He was so shocked by what was happening that he just accepted it. Connor’s fat cock pushed into Nigel’s throat, invading his gullet like a fist. Nigel choked and opened as wide as he could.
“Bloody hell, fuck yeah, mate…”
The taste was musky and salty, like he had got precummy when he watching porn and never wiped off — or maybe he’d been with a slag earlier and never cleaned afterwards. In any case, it was foul like an disused shower, and it made Nigel’s stomach churn. Despite the rancidity of the taste, it was alluring too, and Nigel found himself fighting back less and less with every passing moment.
Soon enough, Connor’s member was rock-hard and throbbing. It seemed firmer than Nigel’s ever got, and it was veiny, barbaric, heavier than it looked and thicker than seemed possible. Surely no woman could or would take that in her… no woman would take that in her anywhere.
“Hmmm, mate…” Connor might have attempted to say something more, but that was the only intelligible part to Nigel.
When the taste of precum flooded Nigel, Connor moaned out loud. He even moaned with a chavvy accent, like he was half-laughing at Nigel and half-aroused, with just a touch of angry and aggressive at the same time. His moan was equally one of good-natured humor, a threat of violence and a cry of passion all at once. His dick throbbed all the way down Nigel’s throat, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust of his body.
His muscles flexed above Nigel’s body. Nigel felt small and weak. He always felt that way, more or less, because he was skinny by nature, even if he was rather athletic as well. He seemed tiny in comparison to Connor, whose body was somehow scrawny yet bulging with powerful muscles. Cheap-looking tattoos decorated his pecs and biceps, but the only one Nigel could make out was a string of barb wire that ran up and down both arms and his torso. A few bits of bloody flesh were tattooed attached to the barbs.
“Taste good, innit bruv?” Connor asked with mocking sincerity, like he would have preferred that Nigel hated it.
But Nigel had to admit he was right, it did taste good, and the more Nigel tasted, the more he wanted to savour the flavour forever. It tasted sweet and sour, with a powerful flavour that made Nigel swoon with desire.
Connor didn’t pull his dick out, so Nigel couldn’t have answered even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Connor muttered in his indecipherable chavspeak as his balls slapped against Nigel’s chin.
His dick was veiny, the shaft thick and throbbing. The precum flowed so freely down Nigel’s throat that Nigel wondered if it was normal. His own dick didn’t seem to leak that much precum, but he had never measured it, and it was hard to tell what was precum and what was his own spit.
“Hey, mate… flatmate,” Connor said as he pulled out and thwacked his dick against Nigel’s face. “I’m a bloody nice flatmate, so I’m going to go ram you just like you like it.” He pulled out a jar of lube and motioned for Nigel to roll over. “Lemme see that beautiful arse of yours, innit. You ever been rammed in there? Huh? You ever do some porridge, mate?”
“No…” Nigel said, his voice tremulous. Despite his fear, he did roll over. His arse gleamed in the darkness of his ill-lit room. “I’m, uh… I’ve been rammed, yeah.” He cleared his throat. He didn’t usually admit that even to close friends, and he would never have said so to a thug like Connor if he wasn’t overwhelmed by the passion of the moment.
He grappled Nigel by the hair and lifted his face up. Pain erupted in Nigel’s skull and scalp. Connor forced him to turn his head so they could look each other in the eye. Connor hocked up a loogie as though he was going to spit it in Nigel’s mouth, but then he just spat in the bin next to the bed. “You think I’m a tosser, mate?”
“No… I swear, I don’t,” Nigel said.
“Good. Cuz I will bang you out, mate. I’ll bang you out bloody good,” he said, accentuating that last word, which he pronounced in his chavvy way: guuuud. He rammed his pinkie finger into Nigel’s arse, which sent a bolt of pain up Nigel’s spine, whilst also making his dick twitch with anticipation. Nigel yelped and lifted his arse but submitted to the brief fingering.
Then Connor laid himself down on top of Nigel, who arched his back as soon as he felt that thick cock pressing between his asscheeks. Nigel was acting on instinct now, because a part of him wanted to try this more than he ever wanted anything. It was all he could think about now, and Nigel craved every centimeter of that chavvy manhood inside him.
Nigel gulped and bit his lip. A sharp biting pain began in his backside. Nigel first thought that was pretty tolerable, but then it was followed by a wave of intense pressure. It felt like his arse was ripping in two, and he liked it.
“I’m gonnuh ram you bloody righ’, mate…” Connor said softly, directly into Nigel’s ear. That made Nigel shudder in anticipation, and Connor chuckled. The more this went on, the drunker he sounded and the chavvier was his accent, his tongue seemingly growing too big for his mouth. His breath condensed on Nigel’s nape.
Nigel grunted and bucked, escaping from Connor’s cock — a success he instantly regretted, as the pain had come with a burgeoning pleasure that he now missed. He stopped fighting back so Connor could hold onto his hips tight, keeping him in position. His perky asscheeks jiggled as Connor got the knob lined up again with his hole.
Depsite the pain, Nigel was going to take this entire dick, and he had a feeling he was going to do so again every night.
The more he got rammed, the more sure he was that staying in the flat had been the right decision, Nigel cried out with desire, moaning louder with each thrust of Connor’s hips. Connor kept adding more lube from a tube he must have brought in with him — you know he dates slags if he needs to buy his own lube in an extra-value size. The lube made it easier and easier to take every bit of his massive cockshaft, and besides that, Nigel could feel a burning pit of pleasure that grew steadily stronger from deep within him.
“Oi!”
Nigel stuck his head up. Was Connor talking to him? It sounded like he wasn’t, but there was no one else here, was there? When Nigel tried to turn his head all the way around, the movement caused a surge of pain deep within him. He got far enough to see that Connor had picked up his mobile and either answered it or called someone.
“Yeah, mate. He say what?” Connor stopped moving for a moment. He sounded angry. “We is gonna smack him out, mate. Innit, right? Yeah!”
Then he stopped talking for an extended period. It sounded like he was waiting. He resumed plowing Nigel so hard and so powerfully that Nigel had to bite his lip to avoid crying out with desire again.
The pleasure grew more and more intense, and Nigel had trouble avoiding moaning so loud that whomever Connor spoke to on the phone would hear. Nigel wasn’t even aware that his own cock was rock-hard, throbbing though no one had touched it, and the awe-striking intensity of the sensations within meant Nigel couldn’t bear to move. He didn’t notice the precum leaking out the tip of his knob and soaking the brand-new sheets of his bed.
“Yeah. I’m fuckin’ this bitch, mate. She’s quiet. She’s shy. Don’t wanna talk to you, innit, mate,” Connor said. He smacked Nigel’s arse, which made Nigel let out a high-pitched yelp. It apparently sounded feminine enough to pass as a girl for the person on the other end of the line, and Connor chuckled at the reaction he got. He smacked Nigel’s arse again and again. “Yeah, it’s jigglin’ like a fuckin’ bowl of jelly, innit!”
Connor began grinding his dick as he talked on the phone, moving his hips in circles as though trying to touch every part of Nigel’s insides. He laughed cruelly like he thought he was torturing Nigel and ripping him up inside, but in fact, Nigel loved every moment of it. It was intense enough that he had to lay his head down, and he let out a long, low squeal, which sounded pained enough that Connor apparently didn’t notice that Nigel was enjoying himself.
“Nah, that’s the telly, innit. I’m gonna hang up now, mate. I’m arse-deep in this bitch, and I’m done listenin’ to you. We got a plan, right? You meet me at the corner in twenn’y, and we go beat that muvvahfucka down to the ground!” He paused. “Yeah. Peace.” Then he hung up his cell phone and threw it on the bed next to Nigel. “Sorry about that, mate. Lemme get back to rammin’ you the way you deserve.”
Nigel wanted to tell him to keep going, that he wasn’t upset or scared, that he wanted it to continue forever. But it felt too good to say anything.
Outside the apartment, shouts of oi! erupted as some other crew of chavs met up. Connor leaned over to the bedroom window and opened it without taking his dick out of Nigel.
“Oi! You fuckin’ wankuhs shut up out there!”
“Come out here and make us, bloody pissuh!” One of the other chavs called out from the street.
Connor snarled and sneered. He spat out the window, but he shut it without any further dramatics, even as the chavs outside continued to yell taunts and jeers. Nigel shuddered as he realised this neighborhood was getting chavvier and chavvier by the minute — it had seemed respectable during the day, but with the darkness of dusk, he now realised he had made a mistake. He would have never moved in here if had come by at night.
But it was hard to think about that right now, with his arse chock-full of chavvy cock-meat. He gasped as pre-orgasmic pleasure washed over him, accompanied by Connor’s harsh grunting. Even though Nigel’s dick was untouched, Nigel felt an incredible sensation rocketing through him, like Connor had flicked a switch inside him. Waves of bliss rocked his tender frame.
“Gonna fill you up now, mate… Be a good little flatmate and take it. Don’t move till I’m done,” Connor said, repeating himself a few times, his words getting gradually slower and lower as he neared his own orgasm. “Don’t move, don’t move, mate…”
Finally Nigel felt Connor’s broad muscles rippling as he laid down on Nigel’s back. He was perfectly still there for a moment, his massive, heavy body bearing down on Nigel, who struggled to breathe both from the weight and from the pain and pleasure that roiled within his arse.
Then, just as the first drops of cum sprayed into Nigel, Connor’s hands gripped Nigel’s cock. He gave Nigel one long, slow stroke from root to tip, and he kissed Nigel on the side of the cheek.
“Reacharound, innit? Cuz you is my flatmate, and I treat you orite.”
For some reason, that was enough to send Nigel over the edge, just a bare touch from Connor’s hands wrapped around his cock. He barely noticed the cum pumping into his arse because Nigel had his own sudden, overwhelming orgasm.
He grunted and groaned, just as Connor made a torrent of loud rutting sounds. His utterances were cruder, mean, almost insulting even though they were not real words. Somehow, Nigel knew what he meant. But Nigel was overcome by passion in his own dick, which sprayed cum all over his mattress. The orgasm was almost painful it was so exquisite, so sudden, he had been humping the bed just out of pure instinct as Connor slammed his dick inside him. Nigel’s mind was blinded by the agony in his pained asshole.
At last it was all over. One final jet of cum flew from Nigel’s rod at the same time as a cumwad erupted in his ass, and Connor’s long, chest-rattled groan signaled his orgasm was finished. Nigel moaned and squirmed on the bed as he felt every muscle in Connor’s body go limp atop him. Nigel bit the pillow beneath his face.
“Ah, that was pretty good, mate,” Connor said. “Gonna teach you to be a chav. How do you think about that?”
Nigel was too dazed to think about his words, his pain was still intense because Connor’s cock was still half-hard inside him. He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Can you say oi?”
“Oi.”
“Nah. Say it with emphasis, with balls. Say it like you mean it, bruv.”
“Oi.”
“No.”
“Oi!”
“Closer. Say it a couple times.”
“Oi! Oi! Oi!”
“Yeah! There you go,” Connor said. He laughed right into Nigel’s ear, then pulled his now-limp cock out. Nigel shuddered as intense relief flooded his body. He felt like he could think now for the first time since Connor had come into his room. Connor patted Nigel’s bare arse. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re a good flatmate. I’m gonnuh like sharing this place with you very much.”
“Yeah,” Nigel said with a grin. “Me too. I’m glad I moved in here… bruv.”
He watched Connor get up and put his clothes on to go meet his friends. They were going to go beat someone up, Nigel realised with a nervous shudder. Connor put on his trackpants and wifebeater. He walked out without another word.