Their faces then quickly twisted into ugly scowls, and I knew I was now in real trouble.
“Who’s this fuckwit?” I heard a gruff voice on my left, and quickly turned around. “Where are your fuckin’ clothes, you fuckin’ wanker?”
The guy doing the speaking was pointing at me rigorously as he walked through the small front garden of a nearby quiet house.
He barrelled right toward the idling car where his friends were obviously waiting for him.
“Are you a rapist or something?” the guy yelled and moved quickly toward me. “You sick fuck! Running around naked!”
“Fuck, look how big his hanger is,” I heard a surprised voice from inside the car. “Is it real?”
In a matter of seconds, the clearly angry guy was charging right at me with his clenched right fist quivering violently in the air.
His face was a ferocious picture of pure rage. The guy was tall and about my age, with short cropped blonde hair. He looked fearsomely strong and fit.
“Shit, what’s Jarrod doing?” I heard another voice from inside the car. “Jarrod! Don’t!”
The enraged Jarrod lurched at me, and took a big swing at my head, but I ducked away from the blow easily.
I then pulled my own right fist back, ready to strike. Seeing an opening, I drove my fist hard into Jarrod’s jaw and hit him with everything I had.
I’d been in my fair share of fights, and one of my many foster fathers had taught me how to box when I was a teenager, so I knew how and where to hit a guy if I had to.
I truly hated violence, but Jarrod had brought it right up to me. I was left with no choice.
I hit him hard, and the obviously disoriented Jarrod went down quickly in obvious shock and pain.
Clearly, the big guy did not expect a naked man to hit him with such force and precision. Jarrod dropped to his knees and clutched at his face.
“You fucking bastard,” he muttered, and slowly tried to get up. “You’re dead, prick!”
Once more, I desperately weighed up my options. I couldn’t fight Jarrod and his four friends, especially not with my cock and balls hanging out. I couldn’t talk my way out of it either. Again, I was fucked.
My choice was clear: run. With Jarrod still shaken from my brutal jaw shot, and his friends seemingly more reticent than him, I took off with air-piercing speed down the street.
My now sore and battered feet slapped hard on the uneven ground of the footpath, and my cock and balls bounced around madly.
I never thought that running around naked could put the human body through so much pain.
I risked a look over my shoulder and saw Jarrod hurriedly piling into the driver’s seat of the car.
I heard the black Ford loudly rev, and then Jarrod’s hoarse voice rung out in the humid night air.
“You’re fucked, mate!” Jarrod yelled. “We’re gonna bash the shit out of you! You fucking pervert!”
I kept running, but when I saw the black Ford pull out from the curb and then head up the street after me, I had to change tack.
I couldn’t outrun a car, and Jarrod and his crew would catch up to me in mere seconds if I kept running along the footpath.
My only option was to get off the street and then run through the houses and apartments back toward my home.
I would risk getting caught by the residents, and I would have to jump over a huge number of back fences to get from one property to the next.
It was a dangerous move, but it was the only real chance that I had to make it home alive.
I took one last look at the ominous black Ford heading up the quiet street toward me, and then turned left into the front yard of a small, three-level apartment block.
I ran quickly but quietly down the block’s side passage, and eventually found myself in the backyard.
The fence was thankfully not too high, and I easily lifted myself over it. My dangling cock scraped over its rough-hewn timber on the way, and I winced.
I landed on the soft grass of another apartment block’s backyard, and again made my way down the side passage and toward the front of the property.
I ran onto the footpath, looked around in panic, and saw the black Ford turning down into the end of the street, still a safe distance from me.
“You’re dead, prick!” Jarrod’s voice pounded from a distance. “You’re dead, motherfucker!”
On aching feet and with tiring muscles, I ran across the road and bolted into another apartment block.
I continued this for a few more streets, heatedly running down side passages and leaping over back fences, always with the dread-inducing black Ford on my tail.
Though I was in extremely good shape, I was getting increasingly tired with not just the intense physical activity, but also the stifling heat and the waves of panic rocketing through my system.
While quietly moving through the backyard of another apartment block, I noticed a clothes line pegged with a few minor items.
Unfortunately, there were no men’s pants or shirts, but there was what looked like a small white tablecloth.
I excitedly wrenched the tablecloth off the line, and quickly wrapped it around my sweat-drenched waist.
Covered up again, I hauled myself over the back fence of the apartment block, darted through another three-level property, and across another quiet road.
There was no sign of the black Ford, but I could hear it churning in the distance, a fearsome predator in the night.
I took the opportunity to run further down the street, desperate to take even just the shortest of detours to get closer to home.
I ran hard, and when I saw headlights in the distance behind me, I turned quickly into the front yard of a large single story home.
Hunched over, I moved stealthily down the narrow side passage, keeping my barely covered body low so I wouldn’t be seen from the house’s windows.
I heard sounds and voices from inside, and crept silently into the expansive backyard area.
I pulled myself up onto the home’s back fence, which was made of aluminium and was by far the highest that I’d had to negotiate so far.
My wet feet slipped on the smooth material, but I eventually dragged myself up onto the top of the fence.
Just as I got there, I felt my protective tablecloth snag on a jagged metal bolt holding the fence together.
I pulled desperately at the tablecloth, but it wouldn’t budge. It was well and truly stuck on the fence.
As I yanked futilely on the resistant fabric, I heard louder noises from inside the house. I had to keep moving.
Looking nervously back at the house behind me, I leapt down off the fence. But as I moved downward, the snagged tablecloth remained stuck on the fence.
Slowly, agonisingly, I felt myself being denuded once again as the tablecloth stubbornly refused to move with me.
As I slid onto the damp grass of the adjoining house’s backyard, the snagged tablecloth slipped back over the fence and hopelessly out of my reach.
I’d literally been unravelled until I was once more left completely and embarrassingly naked.
“What the fuck?” I heard a mellow, lightly giggling female voice. “What’s going on here?”
“A naked man just dropped over the fence,” another surprisingly non-alarmed female voice laughed. “And he’s definitely not one of our neighbours!”
I’d been paying so much attention to losing my snagged tablecloth and the concerning noises in the property behind me that I’d stupidly failed to scan the backyard of the home that I’d actually been dropping into.