LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Crash
by Anthony Alba
"How can I be lost?" William muttered to himself. It was not as if he was a stranger to the area. He had grown up around here, gone to school near here and he had only been at college a year. Yet the shortcut he had chosen to beat the traffic was turning into a disaster.

The cul-de-sac ahead told him clearly that this was not the way to cut back onto the main road. "Damn it to hell," he muttered. He glanced at his watch, he still had time but that would change fast if he did not find his way back onto the main road soon.

"When I graduate and can afford a half decent car, I'm getting sat-nav," he promised himself as he put his car into reverse. There was not enough room ahead to turn around but he could reverse into one of the driveways and then try again to find his way to the party.

William glanced at his rear view window, there was a silvery grey car in the drive way but there was plenty of room for him to manoeuvre. Then his mobile beeped. He picked it up from where he had left it on the passenger's seat. It was a text message from Garry. 'Where R U? Party starting. Girls hot!'

"Damn," he muttered again as he texted a quick reply. He had felt more that a little self-conscious dressing up in his schoolboy uniform complete with cap and short trousers but that was the theme of the party. The trade off was going to a party full of hot college girls all dressed up as schoolgirls!

BANG!

The impact shocked William and he slammed on the brake but he knew it was too late. He had hit something. With a pounding heart William glanced in his wing mirror. "Please, please... don't let it be a person..." He could not see clearly enough so he turned off the car and threw open the door and got out.

His breathing began to slow a little once he realised that he had not accidentally knocked anyone down. He had hit something though, the silver car parked in the driveway. Thankfully he had not been reversing too fast but the impact had still been enough to knock a dent in the side bumper.

A minute or more must have passed as he assessed the damage. He did not really care about the dent to his own car; it was so old and battered one more dent would hardly be noticed. It was nothing much to look at and he had picked it up cheap. Still it got him to and from college and that was all that matted, not to mention cheap was all he could afford at the moment. Then the front door of the house opened, spilling light into the twilight.