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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch19 {Varkel} (Mb MbF oral anal ped violent)
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2001 12:10:03 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel




Chapter 19: Tom's Secret Admirer


Jenny called from the kitchen, "Are you about ready to go, 
Bobbie?"

The girl stuck her head out of her bedroom.  "What's the rush?"

The woman came to the hall door and regarded her narrowly.  "You 
know what the rush is!  Paul and I must be at O'Hare in another 
hour.  I'm about to call the taxi.  We'll drop you at Louise's."

"Can't I just walk?"

"No, Bobbie, I'm afraid not.  Paul and I have discussed this.  He 
thinks we should ask for your door key, too, after what we caught 
you doing here a few nights back."

"You didn't catch me doing anything!  I was just naked.  Alan 
even had his parka on."

"Nevertheless, dear.  Bring me your house key and hurry up with 
your packing.  I'm going to call the taxi."

With ill grace the girl surrendered her key.  Her adults were 
supposed to be gone all weekend.  She had meant to return home, 
because Louise would hardly be fun for more than one night, and 
renew her assault upon Tom, who she was confident would now be 
putty in her hands -- or elsewhere.  But during their frolic with 
Alan he had regarded her with a certain contempt every time he 
withdrew his wet penis.  She dared not depend absolutely upon his 
acceptance.  She had seen enough to fear the big city's 
indifference if he turned her out when she had no home.

Putting a few final toiletries in her bag, she paused, eyes 
lighting with an idea.  She closed her bedroom door softly and 
removed a peculiar object from its hiding place on the ledge 
behind her dresser mirror.  It was Hawker's three-pronged dildo.  
She had found its use between the man's buttocks stimulating and 
agreeable, so much so that she had slipped it into her book bag 
while he lay exhausted with head thrown back, hands pressing his 
temples.

She shook her head at the memory.  The old fool!  Why did he have 
to come twice?  Not that she would complain for herself.  His 
second effort had lasted forever, transporting her to Elysian 
Fields of ecstasy.  She had screamed until her throat hurt, 
happily bearing his weight until she was breathless and dizzy.  
His face was bright red, visible above hers if she titled her 
head back.  When she felt his small second ejaculation, she 
breathed a sigh of relief for him.  He had rolled off her 
immediately, making a peculiar sound in his throat, fumbling in 
the drawer of his bed tray.  Shakily he took a small white pill 
and popped it under his tongue.  His organ was already shrunken, 
drooling a single thin drop.  She had got up and dressed, 
stealing his sex-changer in the process, calmly skipping down the 
stairs, shrugging later when she remembered the cameras.  But the 
next day in school she caught him watching her from his office 
doorway.  He had smiled and winked.  Obviously he was not peeved 
with her in the slightest.

Ah, but this triple-threat gadget could make all the difference 
with Louise!  Unlike a boy, it would not squirt and pull out, 
then demand to be sucked.  Bobbie anticipated a full weekend of 
pleasure for both girls.

She zipped her bag and took it to the kitchen.  In the innocent 
tones of a child anticipating a lark, she declared, "Okay!  I'm 
ready to go."


* * *


The stills, made with the remote-controlled programmable 
Electroflex, were magnificent:  sharply focused in high-
resolution with perfect, soft-shadow lighting.  He selected 
twelve, nearly all with the girl's prettily androgynous face 
recognizable:  a pensive close-up; another with eyes twinkling in 
unmistakable delight; one with a penile shaft filling the space 
between bushy pubes and pink lips, her eyes slitted and cheeks 
sunken; one zoomed out a bit on the same scene but showing her 
almost boyish chest; then the shocking one, the one that could 
earn him ten years behind federal bars: again with penis well 
mouthed but further zoomed out, showing elbow resting on upraised 
knee, hairless female pudendum gaping red.  Another series showed 
hairy male hands fitting her with the three point dildo; the girl 
kneeling upright on a bed wearing it and smiling proudly; others 
at various removes showing the business end buried in a hairy 
anus.  In one picture, shot by the back-up Electroflex through 
the girl's legs, a penis and scrotum dangling below the plastic 
instrument left no doubt as to the gender of the receiver.  In 
every picture the girl's skin glowed with youthful perfection, 
zitless, backed by the faintest tracery of veins.  He had touched 
that skin, licked it, smelled it, tasted it, fucked it:  under 
the arms, behind the knees, around the ears, deeply into mouth, 
anus and vagina.  The memory of it erected his manhood painfully 
and produced an ominous tingle in his chest.

After pausing for a deep breath and a taste of wine, he 
methodically made up a dozen files, named gr2boy01.jpg through
gr2boy12.jpg, and posted them anonymously through his trusted 
offshore remailer to alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.pre-teen.  Two 
hours later they appeared in the newsgroup.  Fifteen minutes 
after that the first response popped up.  "Beautiful!  Give us 
more!"  "Incomparable clarity!"  "The girl who is also a boy!"  
"Who's lucky ass is she fucking?"  And of course, "You made her 
seem to enjoy it, you child-molesting son of a bitch.  I'd hope 
the cops cut off your dick and stick it up your ass, except you'd 
love that, wouldn't you?"

The responses mounted.  Hawker read them, lying back on his 
recliner, one hand paging through the newsgroup until his seminal 
fluid stained the towel draped across his belly for that purpose.


* * *


Tom heard a distant knocking upstairs.  It persisted stubbornly 
and it began to irk him.  He got up from the PC and left his 
apartment to learn the cause of the racket, only to discover Alan 
rapping on Bobbie's door.

"She's obviously not home, Alan," he chided the lad patiently.

The boy rolled his eyes around at Tom.  "But she promised!" he 
insisted and knocked again.

"Her family has gone out of town for the weekend.  Paul told me 
it was work-related.  Bobbie is staying somewhere with a friend."

Alan's eyes brightened.  "She's still in town?"

"Maybe.  If so, I have no idea where."

"But she promised!" the boy repeated himself, almost whining.  "I 
have my place to myself for the entire weekend, and we were going 
to have fun together."

"You're alone for the weekend?"  Tom felt a rise of anticipation 
but kept it out of his face.

"Yeah," the boy replied.  "My mom and step dad went off to 
Arizona, just to be alone, Mom said."

"I'm surprised they would leave you like that."

"Mom filled the fridge and left me some money.  She said I was 
old enough to take care of myself."

Tom grinned.  "And so you saw this as a splendid opportunity to 
have sex with Bobbie."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose."  Tom added with a certain calculation, "You 
could stay with me, if you like, but I can only offer you boy 
sex."

Alan's disappointment faded fast.  "You won't be rough like 
before?" he asked shyly.

"I'll be very gentle with you, Alan," Tom replied, palming the 
boy's smooth cheek, consciously realizing he had committed to an 
undisguisable homosexual experience.  No, he corrected himself 
ruefully, it would be pure pedophilia.  Perhaps the randy boy 
would not notice the difference.

They walked down the stairs hand in hand, both of them with 
expectant erections pushing at their trousers.

"Are you queer, Tom?" Alan asked as they entered the young man's 
apartment.  "I think I am."

"I'm very queer for you just now, Alan, although I don't often 
fantasize about guys."

"I think about cocks always," the boy responded in a low voice, 
although he did not appear to be embarrassed.  "I think about 
cocks more than I think about titties."

"But you enjoyed fucking Bobbie," Tom objected.

"Yeah, I know, but when I come I think of her as a boy.  Haven't 
you noticed?  She looks like one if you don't check her out 
between the legs."

"Yes, I've noticed," Tom replied, suddenly fearing Jenny's wrath 
if she ever found out about what he had let himself do with the 
sick little girl.  "Her short haircut makes her face appear very 
boyish."

"Yeah, yeah," Alan said with some animation, remembering his last 
time with the girl.  "It was her face I stared at when I came.  
She looked like a boy."

"I can understand that, Alan," Tom said sheepishly.  "She's like 
a fresh boy, but how could you be interested in a grown up like 
me?"

"You have a nice cock, and you're not too old, not too hairy," 
Alan stated firmly.

"Do you want to fuck away the weekend?" Tom asked eagerly.

"Fucking hurts, Tom, although I'll do it once or twice, but only 
before I come, only when I'm really up."

Tom nodded.  "I know it hurts, and that puzzles me.  We have both 
shat thicker turds than our dicks.  It must be because we're 
afraid of it.  I'll work you into a frenzy, Alan.  Then I'll fuck 
you."

"I'd like that," the boy responded and presented his pretty face 
for a kiss.

Tom could not believe his good fortune as he kissed the lovely 
face of the twelve year old queer: his animated sex toy for the 
entire weekend.


* * *


Alan lay naked upon the bed as Tom explored the exquisite young 
body, stroking graceful, hairless calves, fondling girlish 
thighs, sucking nipples that were raised similarly to Bobbie's on 
small cones of flesh.  He leaned down to engulf the boy's modest 
organ, relishing its unique texture, its strange taste.  He did 
not want Alan to come, not yet.

"You plan to fuck me now," the boy gasped, stating the obvious, 
when Tom raised his mouth from the pulsing member.

"Turn over," Tom responded, and Alan complied without protest.

Tom quickly slicked himself with Vaseline, staring all the while 
at the soft backside of alluring thighs and perky, inviting 
buttocks.  He poked a greasy finger at the tight anus, pushing in 
gently half a finger, then two all the way.  The boy quivered, 
but did not display any discomfort.  Indeed he pushed back a bit.  
Tom spread the shapely legs and positioned himself between them, 
his hand on his own engorged cock, the head of it pressed against 
the boy's shriveled, pink rose.  He thrust with gradually 
increasing pressure until the glans popped through, defeating the 
relaxed sphincter.  The fatter part of the cock was still to 
enter, but Tom paused for a moment to allow Alan to accept the 
sensation.

"It's not too bad," the boy announced in a voice muffled by the 
pillow.

Tom eased his cock in all the way until his abdomen pressed 
against the relaxed buttocks.  He paused again, leaning forward 
and laying his cheek against the boy's.  "Are you all right?"

"You're big," Alan replied laconically.

"I won't take long, darling," Tom said, kissing the flaxen head.  
"I'll come soon."

Tom began to fuck gently, in small movements, urging himself to 
come as soon as possible.  He felt Alan's flesh beneath him, 
touching his own from feet to head.  His perverted brain relished 
the freshness and youth.  Curiosity arose.  "Tell me how it 
feels."

"I was just thinking about that," the boy responded slowly.  "It 
doesn't hurt at all now.  It feels one moment like I am shitting 
a big one, then like it's pushing back into me."  He actually 
chuckled, producing a vibration around Tom's cock.  "Shitting is 
not this interesting."

"You don't mean it feels good!"

"Why not?  Shitting used to feel good sometimes.  I think this 
could get to be nice."

A real queer in the making, Tom thought.  He licked the lad's 
peach-fuzz cheek as a tingle in his cock announced the 
approaching climax.

"I'm coming, Alan!" he cried out and began to fuck in long 
strokes.

"Oh!" cried the lad, eyes widening.  "Oh!"

Tom wanted to ask if this hurt, but such considerations were 
temporarily submerged in the flood of semen he shot into the 
youthful entrails.  He whimpered, gasping with incredible 
pleasure, and rolled off the boy immediately.

"That was so much nicer than the first time," Alan gushed, 
turning on his side to embrace his lover.  Tom, for the moment 
deflated, felt self-disgust rise in his chest.

"I hurt you at the end, didn't I?"

"No, not really," the boy replied thoughtfully, "though pushing 
my dick on the bed sheet nearly made me come."

"Of course you're ready to come!"

"But I don't want to ..."

"Why not?"

"I want to come in _you_!"

Tom sighed.  He certainly owed the lad.  "Can you reach the 
Vaseline?"

But Alan didn't move.  "Bobbie knew how to suck really good.  
Can't a boy do it just as well?"

Tom took a breath.  "I expect she can do it a lot better than I 
can."  His hand enclosed the smaller organ.  He felt it surge 
against his hand.  Indeed the lad was ready.  "This is the only 
cock I ever sucked, and that only once."

Apparently Alan was prepared for this argument.  "Yeah, but 
you've got one, too.  You ought to know what a cock needs better 
than a girl."  The source of this idea was soon disclosed.  "At 
least, that's what Carl says."

Tom, despite his lack of experience in queer sex, had engaged in 
many verbal debates.  He smiled.  "Then you know the answer."

"Huh?"

"You tell me who does it better: Carl or Bobbie?"

After a moment's hesitation the lad admitted, "Bobbie was the 
best, but I was sucking your tongue when she did it."

"What did she do that was so great?"

"She quit when I started coming, then started up again when I 
stopped."

"I'm surprised you didn't feel too sensitive!"

"I was, almost, but she made the feeling last longer."

"Well, let's see if I can do it, too."

When he had first discovered masturbation, Tom had experimented 
with every technique and procedure his delighted imagination 
could conceive.  He recalled one in particular that he had 
learned in the attic on a rainy autumn Saturday.  He had never 
tried it on another person, of course.  "In the interests of 
science," he said aloud, bending to the lad's middle.

"What?"

But Tom's mouth was full.  He took the small organ half into his 
mouth, leaving the rear half for thumb and finger to manipulate.  
His tongue laved the pebbly glans while applying intermittent 
suction synchronized with the pumping fingers.  He felt the boy 
stiffen.

"Oh shit, oh shit!"

At the first taste, Tom backed away from the spurting organ, 
holding it rigidly in his fingers, catching the ejaculate in his 
yawning mouth.

"Hey, don't stop sucking!" Alan demanded, trying to thrust.  But 
Tom held the boy's hips down to the bed, taking care that the 
subsiding penis received no stimulation.

"That's no good!" Alan declared in disgust.  "What's the matter?  
Let me fuck!"

But Tom held him rigidly until the last dribble had ceased, and 
even a moment beyond that, before beginning short strokes with 
his fingers on the lower skin.

"Hoo!" cried the lad in a different tone.

Tom's mouth recovered the glans just as it produced the first 
spurt of a second series.  He held it loosely without suction 
while thumb and fingers jacked the lower skin swiftly.

The boy moaned, a long wavering cry, hips thrusting involuntarily 
now that the man had released them.  When the emission ceased, he 
relaxed totally as if disjointed.

Tom rose up, swallowing and wiping his lips.  He grinned at the 
boy.  "How was that one?"

Eyes stared back in wonder.  "You made me come twice.  Carl was 
right!"

Tom chuckled.  "Maybe, but it's a trick anybody could learn."

The boy felt another curiosity.  "Let me taste."

"You've tasted yourself," Tom asserted positively.  "Every boy 
does.  You've even tasted mine.  And I'll bet Carl's, too.  Did 
you find any difference?"  He raised an eyebrow.  "How many have 
you tasted altogether?"

"Only those three," the boy admitted slowly, "but I'm going to 
taste a whole lot more, just you wait and see!"



* * *


They showered together, washing each other lovingly, and later 
went out to a Walgreens.  The chill had abated somewhat, the 
temperature reaching almost forty degrees.

Suddenly almost out of Vaseline, Tom was picking a new jar from 
the shelf in the antiseptic aisle when he heard a snicker from 
behind himself.

"Who's your pretty friend, Tom?" a female voice asked with 
amusement.

Tom stood upright and turned around to confront Allison, a fellow 
graduate student whom he had known casually for almost four 
years.  Her specialty was the Middle Ages.  She seemed obsessed 
with Latin calligraphy.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked with a grin.  "Let me guess."

Alan scowled at her but said nothing.

"Are you into children, Tom?  Where did you find this one?  
Whatever gender it is, the creature is very lovely."

Allison was a notorious smart ass with additional reputations for 
scholarship and high intellect.  She stood tall as Tom and seemed 
taller at moments like this.

"Have you never wanted to play with a child, Allison?  That was 
all the rage in the Middle Ages."

"Yes, I know.  But the players had no doubt about gender."

Tom gave her a smug smile.  "If you want to know the sex of this 
one, you'll have to unwrap the bundle.'

Allison glanced briefly at Tom, then stared at Alan with a 
yearning look.

"Does it really matter?" she murmured.  "I am reminded that a 
rose is a rose."

"But some have thorns," Tom smirked.

"How about this one, Tom?" she asked playfully.

"That's for you to discover, if you like."

Were they talking about flowers?  Alan wandered off, looking at 
the gaudy packaging on the shelves.

"If I like?" she inquired with a cock of her head.

He nodded.  "You need privacy to satisfy that curiosity."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Do you know where I could get that one 
private?"

"Yes, at my place.  I see you're also fascinated by young beauty.  
Does the gender matter to you?"

"No, not with that one," she admitted in a low voice, looking 
after Alan with the beginnings of a blush.

With his testicular pressure recently relieved, Tom grew tired of 
the game and said dryly, "You know my gender, Allison.  If you 
want to unwrap the pretty package, you'll have to accommodate me, 
too."

"You're a good looking guy, Tom, but I've never found you 
attractive," she lied.

"Have you ever found a guy attractive?"

"Just once, when I was eighteen, and he hurt me terribly."

"I'm certain you've healed since then."

"Perhaps so, Tom, but I now prefer pretty women."

"So do I -- and particularly at this moment."

The eyes in the plain face widened.  "You don't mean --  Do you 
really think I'm pretty?"

"I very much like mousy girls with pale faces and small breasts."

"That's cruel, Tom, very cruel."

"It's the truth, Allison.  You can't deny it.  But it's not a 
disparagement.  You've always given me a buzz.  You're prettier 
than you know."

She turned her head aside slightly but could not hide the 
pleasure on her face.  She looked back at him hesitantly.  "I'm 
not really a dyke, you know."  Her hand came to rest on his upper 
arm, its tentativeness suggesting her underlying uncertainty.

"I won't hurt you, Allison," he responded softly and pulled her 
into a gentle embrace.  "I'll be nothing more than your playmate.  
How could that hurt?"

"You don't know much about women, do you?" she whispered with her 
cheek pressed to his.  "I already have a foreboding."

He kissed her briefly, touching her lips with his tongue.  "Will 
you spend the weekend with me and the pretty one?"

She stood back abruptly with a shocked look on her face.  "Are 
you actually having sex with that child?"

It was his turn to be taken aback.  "Do you mean you didn't 
guess?"

"I thought we were playing a game with each other, Tom.  I wasn't 
serious.  I supposed the kid was a relative of yours."

He frowned with concern.  "Are you upset by it?"

"No, no.  I'm rather intrigued actually.  But you have to tell me 
whether it's a girl or a boy.  I don't want to be surprised."

"Then you'll come with us?" he asked in excitement.

She nodded her head eagerly and took hold of his hand.

"Alan," Tom called to the boy who had been observing them from 
down the aisle, "let's go back now."

Allison hugged his arm and giggled, her aplomb recovered.  "So 
you're not only a pedophile, you're also queer."

He sighed.  "Only with that boy.  Is it really true you haven't 
been with a guy for six years?"

"What a personal question!"

"More personal than asking if I'm queer?"

"I didn't ask," she corrected him.  She sighed.  "Seven years."

They walked the two blocks to his apartment, the woman between 
man and boy, all holding hands.  Tom had stuffed their small 
purchases into his capacious parka pockets.

He asked her, "Why haven't you ever come home with me before?"

"Huh!  Because you never asked."

"Huh, yourself!  It never occurred to me in my wildest dreams 
that you would agree."

"It didn't?  Why not?  Aren't men supposed to think about ..."

"About what?"

"Well, about having sex -- with every woman they see?"

He laughed.  "I think you're right.  They're _supposed_ to!"

"Well, what stops them?"

"Allison, if you had only smiled at me once!"

"That cuts both ways," she observed, shaking her head.

Alan drew ahead to study Tom's face.  "Is she going home with 
us?"

Tom winked at him.  "She likes you a lot."

The boy nodded.  "Everybody does.  But is she going to fuck us?"

"I think so," Tom answered calmly, watching the woman's reaction 
from the corner of his eye.

The lad shrugged.  Then an idea occurred to him and his face 
brightened.  "Wow, she's a grown woman!"

"Oh, yes," Tom agreed, "a college student just like me.  She 
knows everything, too."

"Wise-ass!" Allison muttered.  "How about talking _to_ me, Alan, 
instead of _about_ me?"

The boy grinned at her.  "Well, are you?"

She cocked an eyebrow at Tom.  "Alan doesn't need a smile."

"_He's_ got an intermediary!"

She laughed.  "Now _I'm_ using the Third Person!"

"And you didn't answer his question."

"No, I didn't."  She pulled the lad's well-clothed body against 
her own and smiled at him warmly.  "Why did you say it like that 
-- 'she's a _grown_ woman?'"

The lad blushed and looked down.

"Come on, sweetie.  Tell me what pleased you about that idea."

Alan mumbled one word and turned completely away, face bright 
red:  "Hair."

She looked at Tom in puzzlement.  "What's he mean?"

"Guess we'll find out," he answered indifferently, but he knew 
the lad was already comparing Allison to Bobbie.


* * *


Tom sat on the seedy couch idly playing with his erect cock, 
watching Allison and Alan naked on the bed, feeling jealous of 
them both.  He wanted each of them, either alone or together, but 
just now they were sufficient unto themselves.  She was exploring 
the boy's exquisite body with her mouth and tongue in obvious 
excitement and seeming adoration, while the smaller body lay 
awash in pleasure, indicated by that unfailing divining rod, a 
firmly erect penis.

"You're magnificent," Tom heard her gasp just before her mouth 
closed on the entirety of that perfectly straight little rod.

Tom rose from the couch and knelt beside them.  With a palm on 
Alan's cheek he began to kiss the face, now lively with 
approaching orgasm.  When it struck, the pretty one squealed into 
Tom's mouth.  After the lad relaxed Tom looked up at Allison to 
see her swallow and lick her lips.

"You didn't save any for me," he chided the woman playfully and 
leaned down to take the still erect cock into his mouth 
momentarily.

"God, that was splendid!" Allison exclaimed jubilantly.  "I've 
never even dreamed of doing such a thing, certainly not with a 
mere boy.  That has really gotten me worked up, Tom."

Alan moved to the far edge of the bed to make room for the two 
adults.  Allison rolled over onto her back and looked up 
anxiously at Tom, who stood admiring her long, shapely legs, flat 
belly and small breasts.

"You're beautiful, Allison," he said with obvious sincerity, 
dispelling her concern.  "I thought you'd be a bit scrawny."

"Please, Tom," she begged with a hand raised to him, knees drawn 
high, wanting him to climb immediately between them.

"No, not yet," he demurred, "though a man can hardly ask for a 
sweeter invitation."  He lay down beside her and took her into 
his arms.  "I want to kiss your lovely face first."

"Do you mean that, Tom?" she asked, wide-eyed.  "Do you really 
think I'm lovely?"

"There's no reason for me to lie, Allison.  I already have you 
naked in my bed."

They kissed with great passion, especially Allison, who threw 
caution to the wind and accepted the inevitable hurt of losing 
him.  She would have him as a lover, if only for a weekend, 
because she had no confidence in being able to keep his 
attention.  She had been watching him for two years, too shy and 
fearful to approach him, even to offer him unsolicited the smile 
that apparently would have been enough.

His fingers explored between her legs as they kissed, quickly 
finding the magic nub and rubbing it in a way that caused her 
aroused body to shudder.

"Oh, Tom," she groaned in love, pretending that Tom was her first 
boy, not that boorish lug who had ripped her years before and 
then cruelly abandoned her after a single night.

"Oh, Tom," she groaned again, holding his head to her left breast 
as he suckled voraciously.

Alan moved his head to lick her cheek.

When Tom's face snuggled low to lick her belly, she realized his 
intent.  Her hands impatiently pushed his head lower.  He 
repositioned his body with his head between the splayed thighs 
and knees again raised high around him.  He paused to stroke a 
cheek against a soft inner thigh.

"Please," she implored, wanting to feel his tongue on her there.  
When he took her engorged clitoris into his mouth for gentle, 
pulsing suction, she cried out in immediately rising climax that 
peaked in a loud screech.  Tom sighed in exultation as her 
slender thighs squeezed his head.  After wiping his mouth on the 
sheet, he moved his body atop hers and chuckled when he found two 
faces beneath him.  He kissed the boy's lips first and then 
Allison's, lingering with her as he pushed his painful hardness 
into her warm tightness.  Glancing back and forth from the boy's 
face to hers, tongue slipping from one mouth to the other, he 
fucked the woman triumphantly.

Allison abandoned all restraint in this second fuck of her life 
and surrendered completely to the ecstasy.  She pushed back at 
Tom's thrusts as Alan whispered, "Yes! Yes!" in her ear to urge 
her on.

Tom could not see her face when her body jolted with the first 
orgasmic spasm, because Alan's head was in the way, his mouth 
muffling her cry.  Another climax quickly followed and then still 
another.  Her eyes were closed, her face slack as Tom neared his 
reward.  Alan looked up at him with an excited expression, 
knowing what was about to happen.  Tom kissed Alan's pouty lips 
and they traded spit before he shouted convulsively down the 
throat of the pretty boy.


* * *


Allison lay awake on her back beside the sleeping Tom with the 
boy half atop her in the smallness of the bed.  To her Alan was a 
beautiful fuck toy for whom she felt no particular affection.  
She expected to enjoy him a number of times again before the 
weekend was over but would not miss him when they parted.  She 
would not need to see him further.  But Tom, whom she held 
lightly with an arm under his shoulders -- Tom was another matter 
entirely.  She had wanted him for so long, from such a distance.  
He had said she was lovely, and she almost shuddered at the 
memory of hearing those words.  And indeed he had no reason to 
lie.

"Are you awake?" Alan asked in a whisper, perhaps unconsciously 
cupping her breast.

"Yes," she replied with a smile.

"And so am I," Tom interposed groggily.  "This bed is too 
crowded.  Alan, why don't you take a blanket and sleep on the 
couch?"

"I'm ready to go again," the boy countered.  "Why don't we do it 
three way, Tom, like we did with Bobbie?  Only this time you 
should be on the bottom."

"Who's Bobbie?" Allison inquired with a sudden edge in her voice.

"She's a girl in my class," the boy explained facilely, his words 
causing Tom to wince.

"Tom!  How many children do you have in your harem?"

He remained silent, and Allison did not pursue the matter, 
although she wondered what it would be like to have sex with a 
young girl.

"Can we do it three way?" Alan asked again.

"I suppose you expect me to be in the middle," Allison asked 
wryly.

"Yeah!"

"Allison, we don't have to do this," Tom assured her.

"But I want to, Tom, and I want you to take the last virgin part 
of me."

"What part is that?" asked Alan ingenuously.

Tom waited for her reply.  To his surprise she said flatly, "My 
ass."

"Huh!  I don't want to be on the bottom," the boy declared.  As 
the smallest person, his concern was perhaps valid.

She responded as if they were arguing something as routine as 
taking positions around a dinner table.  "If I enjoy it, we'll do 
it again.  Then you can be on top." 

The lad frowned, but this renewed contact was after all his own 
proposal.  He lay on his back in the middle of the bed.  Allison 
squatted over him, leaning down to kiss him as she sat in easy 
impalement upon his cock.  Tom hurriedly lubricated himself with 
a gob of Vaseline and crouched behind her upraised buttocks.  He 
was careful to be gentle, because he wanted to fuck her ass again 
in the future.  He contented himself briefly with rubbing the 
head of his cock against her puckered opening before he began to 
apply pressure.

"You must relax," he advised her.

"I know that.  If I were any more relaxed back there, you'd get a 
lap full."

Tom popped into her just a bit, and when she failed to protest, 
he slowly pushed all the way in until his lower belly pressed 
against her soft buttocks.

"I can feel you, Tom," Alan announced gleefully.

"Don't either of you move.  Let me get used to this," Allison 
ordered in a ragged voice.

Shortly she began to squirm slightly against the two invading 
rods.  Alan held still, but Tom answered her by pumping with 
small strokes.  He delighted in the pure naughtiness of their 
undertaking, his cock pervertedly agitating the asshole of a 
nubile woman while that of a lad almost young enough to be her 
son pressed to its limit into her vagina.  These thoughts fetched 
a beginning thrill.

"Can you endure it, Sweetheart?" he asked with a quaver, his 
hands on her hips.  "I'll come soon."

"Please hurry.  It's getting a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh, yes!" Tom exclaimed when he felt the familiar tingle in the 
head of his cock.

He continued with small pokes, not wanting to hurt her, although 
at that moment he would rather have pounded her ass with long, 
wild strokes.  Then he lost it with a shudder and squealing 
grunts.  He pulled out of the woman who immediately sat up to 
diddle herself while bobbing up and down on the boy's cock.  
Before long she groaned in a long low gasp of satisfaction that 
was soon joined by Alan's yelps.

"That was very, ah, unusual," she sighed, sitting up straight.

"Did you like it?" Alan asked excitedly.  "What did it feel 
like?"

She took a breath, considering.  "It was better than my 
vibrator."

But the lad wanted details.  "I mean, how did you like a dick up 
your butt?"

She sniffed.  "I know it feels a lot better in my cunny."

His eyes lit.  "You liked mine better than Tom's?"

She glanced around at the man and winked.  "In this case I'd have 
to say yes."

"Wow!  Can we do it again?"

"Not tonight.  Maybe tomorrow.  Now take a blanket and sleep on 
the couch.  And, Tom, go wash your cock thoroughly.  I don't want 
to taste shit later on."


* * *


He looked at his wristwatch:  4:35 A.M., five minutes later than 
the last time he looked.  He had practiced patience for years, 
but he could not recall a stakeout where he was less certain of 
the accuracy of his information.

Two hours earlier the whore had finally gasped out the address he 
demanded, after he bit off her other nipple.  He had believed her 
sincerity, enough to release her from her terrible misery with 
immediate strangulation, but now it seemed that she might have 
lied or, worse, said the first thing that came to mind in hope of 
stopping the pain -- always the great drawback of simple physical 
torture.

He had scouted the apartment house, having defeated its main lock 
with laughable ease.  It contained four apartments.  He had 
entered the top two, again with ease.  They were empty of 
tenants, apparently unleased.  The large first floor apartment 
was in use though unoccupied tonight.  But it was secured with 
Nordstrom locks.  He had not wasted his time trying to pick them.  
Their expensive presence on front and back doors, suggesting 
Bernie Nails' involvement, implied that the whore had spoken 
truthfully.  Additional evidence was the tell-tale conductive 
alarm tape that his light revealed between sash and frame of 
every window.  It was the kind that also detected a mere crack in 
the glass.  He would have wagered that a Doppler motion detector 
was also operating over the interior volume.

The basement apartment contained three naked people asleep, two 
on the one bed and one on a couch:  man, woman and child.  Again 
he had entered it easily, giving each face one flash of his 
light.  The odor of recent sex was strong, but the adults were 
definitely not Lanning and Collier, and the child, revealed by a 
fourth flash, was male.  He had hesitated over waking them and 
putting them to the question, but that effort would undoubtedly 
result in the death of all three -- too much death: overkill that 
would draw most unwelcome attention.

He shook his head.  With no more evidence than the word of a 
whore in terminal agony, plus state-of-the-art physical security 
that in fact any affluent family might install in a big city, he 
was not justified in maintaining a stakeout, especially not in 
the territory of powerful enemies.  He reached for the ignition 
key but froze as a shadow crossed his peripheral vision.  His 
left hand flicked across his body and rotated the revolver out of 
its belt clip.

A black man was bent to look in at the passenger window, in the 
dim light from the corner barely discernible except for his eyes.  
He wore a shiny black windbreaker on this relatively warm night, 
open at the throat to expose a white necktie incongruous at four 
thirty in the morning.  Slim never deigned to lock doors unless 
he planned to sleep.  Now the man simply snatched the passenger 
door open and stooped momentarily to stare, his hand on the back 
of the seat.

Slim chuckled and said off-handedly, "If you get in this car, 
I'll kill you."

But the fellow smiled back, white teeth shining.  "If you don't 
get out, sir, I'll kill _you_!"

Slim laughed as his finger tightened on the trigger.  But 
suddenly his own door was snatched open behind him.

Slim's well-trained reflexes were cat-like.  He straightened his 
back, kicking against the transmission tunnel in the floor of the 
automobile, propelling his body violently out of the car into the 
chest of the person who had not stood aside as he jerked open the 
door.

"Ooof!"  Air departed violently from the man's chest.  He fell 
backward as Slim's body rotated upon him.  The side of Slim's 
hand struck fiercely for the man's larynx, only to smash 
numbingly against an unyielding shield located behind the high 
knot of the white necktie.

Slim did not waste precious tenths of a second in surprise.  The 
man was twisting sideways, bringing some other weapon into play.  
In a flash Slim sprang away from him, aiming a vicious kick at 
his head.  But head was gone when boot arrived.  That unexpected 
fact was one surprise too many.  Slim lost his balance and fell 
to the right just in time to avoid a savate-like seated kick from 
his opponent.  Slim rolled quickly away and bounced to his feet, 
only to find the other already up and charging him.

Slim ducked and cut sideways, lashing out with the raised foot.  
The opponent, anticipating, was already ducking and swinging his 
own foot.  It was his second and sufficient mistake.  Slim had 
expected it, now that he understood the caliber of his opposition 
-- almost equal to his own -- and struck the extended leg with 
locked fists at the flex point between buttocks and thigh, 
interlocked knuckles flattening the Great Sciatic Nerve bundle 
against the pelvic bone, paralyzing the entire leg.  The man spun 
further than he intended and fell hard on his back, not to rise 
for a while.

Slim whirled to face the car and the original intruder, now 
approaching, having rounded the vehicle.  Slim's revolver was 
gone, dropped somewhere in the flurry of violence, but apparently 
the other was also unarmed, though the state of his reaching 
hands, clenched with slightly curved fingers, matched Slim's own.

Slim raised one hand, palm up, and the other stopped at the 
completion of his current step, crouched ready to come on, only 
two steps away.

Slim asked, "What do you want?"

"We ask the questions," the man declared, "and I'll ask you the 
same thing."

"Vigilantes, eh?"  Which meant that these gentlemen were most 
likely operating without Slim's advantage of training under the 
oriental masters.  Certain advanced techniques that he had 
learned in diligent practice dictated a sequence of standard 
attack moves, which might be countered by standard defenses, that 
led however to relative positions, if only standard defenses were 
employed, in which the defender was hopelessly vulnerable.  Did 
this tall black man know of them?

Slim struck in the first move of the ballet.  The other countered 
perfectly.  Slim's follow-up was already in motion; again it was 
deflected in the standard manner.  The combatants moved swiftly 
though another four assaults and defenses, all by the book, all 
in the space of two seconds.  Exultation rose in Slim: clearly 
his opponent didn't know this game!  Two more passes found the 
other's temple rushing forward to meet Slim's elbow point 
necessarily thrusting up.  The man's head rebounded sharply.  His 
body completed its spin only to collapse face down and lie 
motionless on the cold pavement.

Slim would have killed both opponents at that moment if he had 
not seen his revolver barrel glimmering in the light from the 
corner.  Now he might depart without leaving physical evidence.  
He scooped up the weapon, jumped into his stolen car and in 
seconds was racing down the street.

He shook his head.  Okay, he was confident now of the prey's 
residence.  But guards armed with high degree martial arts?  The 
ante in this game was getting steep.




NEXT:  Chapter 20: The Problem of Bobbie
Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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