26th June 2015
The boys had been inside the bunker for 3 days and had pretty much forgotten all about the outside world and their loved ones.
Howarth was taking full advantage of the pottery room, putting his final touches on a very complicated and beautiful faceted clay bowl that he planned on casting the same evening. It would enable him to apply an enamel glazed resin coating first thing the next morning. Previous to him entering the underground tomb Howarth hadn’t any experience in pottery, but had already produced several very intricate pieces that could rival any of the top five world pottery experts from around the globe.
Conor hadn’t settled since entering the bunker, convincing himself that they were no longer on earth and had been taken by aliens to a distant planet where any day soon they’d be forced to appear on an alien version of I’m a celebrity get me out of here. He hadn’t got any proof, but he just knew it was about to happen. The thought of his imminent probing made his rear cleavage tingle. In-between these strong bouts of suspicion, Conor spent a lot of his time flexing his limbs in an attempt at becoming a contortionist. He had learned how to dislocate his elbows which enabled him to grab his shoulders from behind which from the front looked like he was the front member of a conga line. Howarth, throughout Conor’s entire exercise, gazed at him alluringly.
Upon Johnjo’s arrival, he immediately started missing his regular sex he’d become accustomed to and had to resort to masturbating every couple of hours. Usually over a cover photo of Diana from a 1999 OK magazine. By 11pm on the first day the main shower and two of the wash hand basins wouldn’t drain as a direct result of this problem.
Luckily for him, on the day he was snatched from his regular life he was carrying a suitcase filled with strong lager. He’d kept this loot quiet from his other kidnapees so he didn’t have to share any of it. He was already on his eighth can of the day when he spotted a slice of bread that an unknown vandal had pushed a finger through the middle of and discarded next to the sink. His filthy mind imagined the hole to be a vagina which put him back in the mood for his seventh session of the day. His goal was likely to match his masturbating with his drinking.