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Message-ID: <46939asstr$1077966604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Fastcat <joefastcat@DESPAMMED.excite.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/06.08.25
Subject: {ASSM} The Village in the Wooded Glen; Part two: History Lesson
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Date: Sat, 28 Feb 2004 06:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

If the following story is real in any way, I offer my sincere pity to the 
participants and urge them to seek counseling.  The following work is a 
piece of fiction in a world without diseases, where people are free to 
care about each other, and to destroy each other.

The following text should not be read by anyone who isn't ready for it, 
and I will take no responsibility for anyone catching you with it.  It 
may be freely passed around so long as this entire introduction is kept 
intact, and that it does not appear, in any fashion or method, on a site 
that takes money for membership or benefits.  I retain full rights to any 
other form of publication, and it may not appear in any compilation or 
other printed form, aside from a single copy for the reader to enjoy at 
their leisure.

The story contains graphic sexual encounters between adults and children; 
or at least what the law recognizes as being children.  All participants 
are of what any objective scientist would consider to be of an 'adult' 
grouping, IE they have all reached sexual maturity.

It deals with the darkest of human actions, that of rape, of 
manipulation, of greed and the journeys through a world that can be at 
times cold and uncaring, but can be adjusted by the actions of others 
into a better place.  In other words, it is a fantasy.  The author 
neither condones nor encourages such activities; and reading this story 
in certain locations is against the law.

I was inspired to write this story from reading a few news stories, and 
from reading some of the vast collection of erotica on 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org  If they could go to such lengths to create, 
maintain and expand such an archive, I could do my bit and add to the 
pile.  If you liked this story, the best way you can demonstrate it is by 
donating to asstr-mirror.org.  Your applause is nice, put your money where your 
hands are.

If you have any comments, post them onto the alt.sex.stories.d board, or 
wait until I have a comment form up on asstr-mirror.org (pending approval, of 
course.)  Address the comments to me, I'll be looking.

FastCat

**> The following story is (c) 2004 by Fastcat, all rights are reserved.  
Reposting is permitted so long as the above notice is included. **<

The Village in the Wooded Glen
Written by FastCat
Version 1.0
February 2004


**> Part 2: History Lesson <**

The town was so small that many questioned if a school was needed at all.  
The owner of the buildings (incidentally the town mayor and head of the 
school board) was one of the most enthusiastic supporters, followed 
quickly by just about every parent in town.  If you had kids, you wanted 
a school.  If you didn't, you hated the idea.

The parents won out, mostly because they were the only ones who bothered 
to vote.  A second war almost broke out when a church suggested that the 
town pay a fee per student and they'd handle the education..  The letter 
from the ACLU, hopeful that they could create a court fight, drew the 
steam out of the brief movement.

Three teachers were hired, two for primary education, one for secondary 
education.  I taught just about every kid in town who was under the age 
of 19 and over the age of nine. All of them were in a single room - what 
used to be an unmentionables store.  The budget was so minimal, and 
parental involvement so scattered, that we still had the dressing rooms.

The first quarter of each day was set aside for reading, mostly to give 
me a chance to handle the never ending grant request writing.  The city 
paid for the rent, my salary, and some of the bills.  Everything else 
came from grants or donations; a cardboard box would be considered a 
pretty hefty donation some days.

In all, there were about twelve students in the class room.  Two 
'seniors', a boy and a girl, aged 18 were hoping to be our first 
graduating class.  Four more filled out the 16-17 range, equally divided 
between boy and girl.  Of the remaining six, three 10-11 year old boys 
made up half of it, with two twelve year old girls, and one fourteen year 
old girl who would become the bane of my existence.

Sarah Parker was her name, daughter of the mayor, and the token rebel for 
the whole town.  Small towns are hard on kids, I hear, especially when 
you're virtually the only one from a particular age group.  The six older 
ones swapped each other's partners pretty regularly, one dating another 
exclusively for a month or so at a time, then breakups would re-align the 
pack.  The younger boys were still in the 'girls are yuck' stage and the 
two twelve year olds were too tomboyish for Sarah's tastes as hang out 
partners.  She was also one of my laziest students.  

Grading was pretty easy; show up at class, give a good try at the work, 
turn in something for homework, you were pretty much assured an A.  
Giving out poor grades would be a quick way for me to lose my job, of 
course.  Sarah just didn't want to do much.

So it was with some annoyance that I told her to stay after when the kids 
were gathering up their papers to go home.  I had to give her the bad 
news that she would have the pleasure of the first F in a subject for the 
new school.  In history of all subjects.

The others filed out of the storefront and scattered to junker vehicles 
or bikes, depending upon age.  I sat down and explained to Sarah that she 
was failing history, mostly because she'd never open the hard fought for 
book and just read it.

She shocked me when she shook her head and said bluntly, "Nope, I'm not 
failing.  You're going to give me all A's this year, or you're going to 
jail."

I chuckled; there was no possibility she was right.  At least the college 
teaching courses I took never mentioned a failing student causing the 
teacher to go to jail, and while one doesn't ordinarily want to annoy the 
spawn of the most powerful man in town, even he knew that his hellion 
daughter wasn't worth the fight.

"And just how would this happen," I asked her.  I had the vague hope that 
perhaps she'd come up with some creative reason that would up her civics 
scores from the dismal D land it was residing in.

She shifted in her seat, a finger tracing marks that in some places might 
be considered graffiti on her desk.  "Because you're going to get charged 
with rape if you fail me."

"Rape?" I asked, rather puzzled.  I hadn't dated anyone in town for so 
long some were whispering among the back fences and over horrible coffee 
that I might be gay.

She nodded her head.  "Yup, of a student."

I thought over the older girls in the class, not one of whom I had so 
much as hugged in all the time of teaching and just shook my head.  "I 
haven't done a thing, why do you imagine Debbie, Theresa or Andi would 
say I tried to rape them?"  A thought crossed my mind, "None of them are 
pregnant, are they?"  Perhaps one might try to protect a boyfriend by 
claiming their expanding bellies came from the teacher.

"No, silly," she replied, licking her lips and exposing her much gossiped 
about tongue stud.  "Of raping me.  All the kids know that you're seeing 
me alone right now, and if you insist on giving me a poor grade, I'm 
going to tell everyone that you raped me."

I blanched, and tried to deny the situation.  "Who would believe such a 
claim?" I asked.  

She smiled and pulled out a newspaper clipping about a teacher who was 
just arrested for engaging in behavior that shouldn't happen with a 
student.  "They all read the papers, they know these types of things 
happen.  And when I show everyone the blood soaked panties I had to wear 
home after you raped me, you'd be lucky if you lived long enough to be 
arrested, much less being convicted when the judge comes around."

"Why are you doing this," I demanded.  "All you have to do to improve 
your grade is open the damn book, read every once in a while, and get 
some of the questions right on the tests.  A couple homework papers 
coming back would be nice too.  Why make these outrageous threats?"

She leaned back in her chair, showing off her second outrageous piercing, 
a small ring peaking out from her belly button.  "Why not?" she replied.  
"I fully intend upon it coming true, you know.  None of the older guys 
want to take a second look at me, not when they're screwing out by the 
woods with their sluts, and the other boys in the school still haven't 
figured out that their dicks can be used for anything other than pissing 
their names in snow banks.  I wanna get fucked, and I picked you to do 
it.  You gotta choice, you can give me a poor grade and get arrested for 
raping me, or you can give me good grades and actually get your fingers 
on the goods as a bonus."

I was about as pale as a ghost, considering her threat.  The non-dating 
gossip would be used against me by the social mongers in town - obvious 
signs that I was raping the children.  The other kids would probably 
helpfully parrot that I had held this girl back to 'talk' to her, clear 
evidence of when the 'rape' happened.  "No," I said, trying to deny that 
this was even happening.

"Yes," she snidely replied.  "I told my dad this morning that I'd be 
spending time over at your place for tutoring every day after school 
which he was more than happy to accept; gives him time to screw around 
with his secretary without me walking in and seeing something 
inappropriate."

"Why me," I asked for the second time, not understanding anything at all.  
I wouldn't even be able to tell someone my name at the moment.

"Why not," she replied.  "I read the story in the paper, thought about 
it, and realized you were the perfect answer.  You're an Indian, so 
everyone would already believe you'd rape a white woman, and chicken shit 
enough to make it a child to boot.  I have no choices as to boyfriends, 
and it's partly your fault - if you got arrested, they'd likely close the 
school, and I'd have some boys to choose from when we get bussed to 
another place.  Since I'll have to break my cherry to prove you've raped 
me, I won't have to worry about the family doctor spilling the beans that 
I'm sleeping around.  If I do sleep with you, you can take me out of town 
to see a doctor, or I can pretend that it broke while I was riding my 
bike."

I had to admit, later, that I shamed the entire male race with my whiny 
voice, "This isn't fair!"

"Yup, you got it Tonto," she replied snidely.  "Just think of it, though 
- you get to fuck the mayor's daughter.  And what's more, you get to find 
out what a stud sliding across your dick feels like.  I want to do it 
all, as much as I can get done.  There isn't anything about my body I'd 
deny you, any request I wouldn't do to you.  You want a blow job while 
driving?  My head will be bobbing in your lap.  The only thing I'll 
refuse is your refusal."

It was funny, her language was making me angry.  "Where did you learn 
about all this junk?" I snapped at her.

She laughed and reached for her book bag, opening it up and tossing a 
much thumbed through Variations onto her desk.  "My father's impression 
as to what sex education materials should be, I think.  You shouldn't 
have shuffled off the task of going through donated books to me."

Fuck.  "You know," I said, trying another tack, "the stories in those 
magazines are fake.  People don't do those types of things."

She laughed, "What, proper people like my father?  You know that is 
bullshit. Now, why don't you gather up your papers and let's get out of 
here..  You got some beer at home?  Seems to me that you could use one; 
me too for that matter."

I tried a final attempt to defend my honor, to turn the course away from 
this, this..  This insanity.  "I could call your bluff."

She shrugged, reached into her book bag again, and pulled out a 
hairbrush.  She showed the tapered handle to me, lifted her short skirt 
and pulled the white panties to the side and spread her legs.  "One way 
or another, I'm breaking my cherry today.  Wouldn't you rather it be your 
cock than this brush?  Tell me that you're going to fuck me, or I'll 
break it right now and run outside screaming about your attack.  I bet no 
one will bother to check the sewer for the condom you used to cover up 
your dirty deed..  Think they'll shoot you and then hang you, or hang you 
first, then use you for target practice?"

"Put that away," I started to say, and was cut off.

"I'm gonna count to three, and before I finish, you're gonna swear you're 
going to fuck me, or I break it," she snarled, pushing the brush towards 
her slit.  A part of my mind was wondering if the brush would even fit 
into her small space as she said one, and it wasn't until two that I 
figured out that she was fucking serious.

"I'll do it," I said, defeated.

"That won't do," she nearly yelled.  "Swear it, say it, tell me what 
you're gonna do, or I swear I'll shove this thing in so hard that I'll be 
scared for life."

"I said I'd do it," I replied, my voice whiney.

"Say it, say you swear you're going to take me to your place and fuck me.  
Say you swear you're going to take my cherry today.  Say it now!"

"I..  I swear I'm going to fuck you, bitch" I snarled.  I don't think I 
hated anyone more than her at that moment, which was a huge mistake.  
Hate and love are so close to each other in emotions, I didn't realize 
until later how completely she won.

She smiled, bent over, and tucked the brush away.  "I don't mind being 
your bitch" she said quietly, "just so long as I get what I want.  But if 
you try to trick me, it'll be just a moment before I find some way of 
getting you killed or worse.  Otherwise, I'm yours to do as you please 
with."

*>

The drive to my trailer was a quiet one, my mind still trying to figure 
out some way of escaping, my heart halfway up my throat.  We waved to the 
sheriff who was ticketing one of the highway travelers in the town's 
speed trap.  He's a pretty happy go lucky guy, but I wouldn't put my life 
expectancy at more than a minute in the scenario that this girl outlined.

I felt like every person in town watched us walk up the steps to the 
double wide, sure that someone was about to descend upon me and call me a 
rapist.  A child molester.  No such luck.  I went to the fridge and 
pulled out a couple of beers, my actions mechanical enough to qualify me 
as being artificial intelligence, I didn't even think about how wrong it 
was to hand her one of them.

I popped the top, slumped down into what used to be a rather comfortable 
chair, and contemplated what the hell I had gotten myself trapped into.  
Maybe I might had been able to deflect her accusation if I had just 
picked up the phone and called 911, in the first instant after she made 
the threat.

Yeah, right, nice fantasy.  I looked over to my new beer buddy and took 
her in.  Yeah, my dick had gotten hard a couple times when she posed in 
class in some of her more outrageous outfits, and I swear on the second 
day that she had come to school without panties, giving me snap looks at 
her crotch.

Someone else, I might have been able to talk out of this course, but I 
already knew Sarah to be one of the most bullheaded people in town.  
She'd argue the result of a math question, even if it was shown on a 
calculator, if she had a different idea.

And well, she was sort of cute.  The punkish outfit she favored was not 
to my tastes, it was about as far from what I'd consider sexy as 
something could get.  Her ugly lipstick and too much makeup, and colors 
in her hair disgusted me.  "Go wash your face," I snapped towards her.  
"Get rid of that crap, or I'll call the police and admit my crime, damn 
it."

She had been drinking her beer, considering the taste of the brew I 
preferred, when I had made my demands.  She looked over towards me, and I 
could see a moment of rebellion in her eyes and then she shrugged, stood 
up and set the beer on the table.  "Sure; I'll change anything you want, 
except what you've sworn to do."  I listened to the boots leave the room 
and pondered getting out my gun and shooting myself.

I was finishing her beer by the time she returned. She was completely 
naked, the hideous makeup gone, the hair darkened from recent washing.  
Her new formed breasts coned out and the nipples slightly tilted upward, 
her sparse bush was enough to identify her womanhood, and that was just 
about it. Her legs were smooth, her arms smooth..  The belly ring was 
still there, as well as a line of tanning across her middle, but she had 
somewhat regained an air of innocence.

And damn it, she was sort of good looking.  Well, no, she was good 
looking, if you just ignored what she had done to me in the classroom.  
Had she made an honest offer right then and there, I could easily have 
accepted such a gift.  Instead, I was the one who was being forced in the 
matter, and I fucking hated the idea of being raped.

"Turn around," I snapped.  She did, and her tight rump was heart shaped..  
Delicious looking, in fact.  And that ticked me off even more.  I hated 
myself when I decided that screw this, I was going to use her like a dime 
hooker.  A true slam, bam, thank you ma'am.  All my anger was going into 
making it as horrible of an experience as I could make it, on the vague 
hope that she'll so hate the act that she'll never ask for it again, nor 
want to continue the relationship.

"Go fucking lay down on the bed, spread your legs.  Might want to figure 
out how to loosen yourself up, because I'm going to go in there and just 
fuck you like the bitch that you are," I said, throwing the can hard into 
the trash and fetching another out of the fridge.  I didn't even look to 
see if she followed my instructions, and my groin awoke at the thought of 
some pussy.

The beer really helped.  It gave me a bit of a detachment to my anger, so 
that a peace loving Indian could beat the crap out of a child and then 
discard her like flushing a rubber down the drain.  "You better have a 
condom ready, bitch," I yelled after her.  "I ain't going to find you a 
baby killer if you get pregnant; if you thought this thing out so far as 
to do this to me, then you can accept the consequences of what happens."

Damn it, I was pissed, quickly becoming horny, and well, just about out 
of my beer.

*>

I looked over at the camp leader and shrugged my shoulders.  "I could 
claim it was the beer that did it, or that perhaps it was what she 
deserved.  I violated that girl so roughly, and I just didn't care.  I 
slammed through her maidenhead, rammed my cock home repeatedly until I 
spilled into her womb.  She didn't offer a rubber, and even if she had, 
I'm not sure I would have bothered.  Probably was better for her that she 
didn't; I caused enough damage as it was bareback.

"I even went out afterwards and got her a beer, telling her that she can 
either drink it, or use the coolness to drop the swelling a bit.  I doubt 
I gave her much more than ten minutes before I told her to get her 
fucking ass out of my house.  I went through whatever alcohol I had on 
hand, a deep binge.  I was half drunk still when I showed up late the 
next day to school; and anyone could have smelled the brewery from a half 
block away.

"The students didn't seem to care or notice, and Sarah..  Sarah was 
wearing a flower patterned sun dress, and sandals, and she turned in her 
first history homework of the year.  Gone was the radical hair colors, 
the dark makeup.

"The day didn't last long, and I'm sure I was a horrible teacher that 
day, but no one complained.  I was a bit surprised when Sarah was 
standing next to my car after I locked up.  She noted that her tutoring 
was everyday after school, and she didn't say anything else once I had 
opened her door.

"We went back into the double wide and I didn't touch a bit of booze that 
night.  I had tried to soothe her soreness with my tongue, but it just 
hurt too much, and after a time, I just broke down crying.  I felt her 
mouth on me, the stud running along the bottom vein, and the tears 
streamed.  Her mouth was so soft and gentle aside from that stud, and I 
probably had the best blowjob of my life.

"She left me there, crying, not a trace of my seed anywhere except down 
her throat, and I cried late into the night.  Finally, exhausted, I fell 
asleep, waking only when the sheriff tapped at my door with a jolly 
reminder that there were students waiting for their teacher at school."

I fell silent for a time, letting the words hang in the air, and he just 
sipped at his drink, looking at me.  After a bit, he finally said, "I 
assume things got much better."

I nodded.  "By the time the summer came around, I was feeling sorry that 
I wouldn't have the excuse to spend so much time with Sarah.  She came up 
with a solution, convincing her father to propose the first summer 
school.  Sarah was one of a couple students, and the half days left us 
with long afternoon hours to enjoy each other's company."

He looked over towards the screen, and the still flashing pictures of the 
children I was accused of molesting.  "What about them?" he asked.

"Sarah," I replied, as if that explained everything.  "She had heard that 
one of the boys had finally gotten some hair around his dick, and 
arranged for him to catch me and Sarah in one of our more energetic fuck 
sessions.  I bet Sarah's jaw dropped to the ground when it turned out he 
was a fag, and I took wicked enjoyment sucking off his first load, and 
letting him enjoy the drool from my cock.  He was the only other one out 
of the class that I had sex with, the rest of the accusers were forced 
into making up stories.

"David was just, well, something different, and half of my enjoyment with 
him was that it made Sarah jealous.  A week before everything fell apart, 
she had finally gotten him to fuck her.  I just about fell off the bed 
laughing when he just shrugged and said that next time, he'd just as much 
like to fuck her butt instead.  He liked that kind of thing, humping my 
ass as I piled into Sarah.  Gotta admit I enjoyed it a lot more than I 
expected myself.

"Sarah decided that she'd had enough of sharing me with him, and 
convinced him to approach one of the other boys in class.  That boy told 
his father that David was a fag, and when confronted with David's father 
and the other boy's father, David came up with an explanation that I was 
fucking students in class.

"It was twisted; it was as if Sarah's threat had come true.  Most of the 
students were forced by their parents to come up with all sorts of 
stories, including group orgies. The sheriff decided to hold me in a cell 
and bar anyone from coming to the jail without his permission. The lone 
deputy still found the opportunity to have me slip in the shower a few 
times, the last time with enough force to give me a concussion.

"The deputy was dismissed, and the sheriff oversaw my recovery.  By that 
time, the town was truly turning into a tempest, with nightly protests in 
front of the jail, and not a few random shots at windows.  One night, the 
sheriff tossed me a six pack, and he settled down with some of his own.  
That was when I spilled everything that had happened.

"He listened quietly to the whole story, got up, and left me for a while. 
I was twisting my sheets into a noose when he returned, David and Sarah 
beside him.  Both confirmed everything, with the additional information 
that Sarah was now pregnant.

"The sheriff left Sarah in the jail with me and went about the town, 
visiting families in their homes, and spread his tale.  David and Sarah 
had been experimenting, and Sarah noticed that her periods had ended.  
David was afraid he was a father, and decided to try to pretend to be gay 
to cover his tracks.  Everything else seemed to cascade off of that, with 
stories becoming exaggerated.  Sarah's father took it the worst, since 
David's father was hardly worth a dime.

"The sheriff came back around sunrise along with a judge and some papers.  
Sarah was to become my wife, and the wedding present would be a dropping 
of all charges.  I do's were exchanged, and we were told to get the hell 
out of town.  That's where my daughter came from; she was born just under 
nine months to the day of when I had raped her mother so violently.  
Sarah had smiled so beautifully when I had put our daughter to her teat 
for her first feeding.  I'm not sure why Sarah walked out into the path 
of a semi on our daughter's first birthday, but it was a scramble to get 
on for a while.  I really wish she had left a note behind...

"A judge girlfriend expunged the record of what happened a couple years 
ago, and she helps out watching her..  She's doing that now.  Well, I 
suppose I'd best go pack.  Thanks for just listening, and I'll get out of 
your sight before you throw up."  I was up and out of the chair and 
halfway to the door before he spoke.

"You're not fired, your resignation is not accepted," he said.  I turned 
and looked at him, and his eyes looked to the floor boards.  "You don't 
recognize me, do you?" he asked the polished wood.  

I looked at him again, my mind searching.  "I don't think so," I said, 
and his head turned up to look at me, and I saw it in the eyes.  
"David?" I asked, shocked.  I hadn't seen him in over ten years - he had 
matured well.  He also had to be the youngest camp director in history.

He nodded, and walked over to his bed, and for a moment, my mind flashed 
to the times I enjoyed his near hairless cock, pumping the short watery 
bursts of cum into my mouth.  He reached into the bedside table and 
returned with a yellowed envelope.  "I never knew the full story until 
you just told me," he said, passing over the letter.  "She wrote me, 
once, well after you two had left town.  I am surprised that it was 
forwarded to me; my family had basically disowned me after the story 
broke.  Turned out to be the best thing that could have happened; I got a 
scholarship to a good school and went on to finish college by the time I 
turned twenty.  This will be my second summer here."

My eyes were tearing up as he spoke, focused on the return address.  My 
address.  Our address.  Sarah's name was on the first line.  Sarah 
Fastcat, the woman I had come to love.  "Much of what was in there I 
didn't understand," he continued into the silence.  "I do now.  She loved 
you, hated herself, for what happened.  I guess she assumed I would know 
how to contact you; I had figured that you two split up soon after you 
left.  It wasn't until they contacted me as part of the background 
check...  Well, it was somewhat easy to connect the dots, being one of 
the participants."

I just held the letter, tears dropping onto the aged paper.  He continued 
talking.  "I convinced them that anything we could do to help you and 
your daughter, we should do.  I didn't explain why, at first.  When 
details started coming back, I read them the letter over the phone, and 
filled in what they didn't know.  It was decided then that they'd hire 
you in an instant."

I looked up at David, unsure of how I felt, tears still sliding down my 
face.  Recounting the story had taken a lot out of me, I was numbed by 
all the shocks.  He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  "I'll give you a 
ride back, I've a feeling that you'd like to read that alone.  If you try 
to commit suicide, I'll never forgive you for what happened; one loss was 
enough out of that disaster."

*>

The songbirds awoke me the next morning, memories of the past night were 
hazy.  I hadn't drank anything; the events were intoxicating enough.  I 
slid the letter back into the envelope, and tucked it away in a drawer.  
Oddly I wondered if I should ever show it to my daughter..

After addressing the pressing needs of morning, I returned and noticed 
that there were new messages waiting for me. A polite thank you note for 
the use of the sauna/shower and hot tub from some happy councilors, a 
voice mail from my friend letting me know that everything was alright 
back at home, noting that I could call the next evening.  Ugh, I had 
forgotten in all that had happened, but promised myself that such a chore 
would not be forsaken again.

The smell of food entered the tent before David, who held a plate of 
breakfast and a smile.  "I wasn't sure that we'd find you among the 
living," he said, setting the plate down.  "Feeling any better this 
morning?"

"Well enough, I suppose," I replied, picking up the plate and digging in.  
What does someone say to an adult that was molested as a child?

The adult, it appears, had some ideas.  "I enjoyed it," he said.  "Better 
than any lover I had since then, male or female."  Was it the robotic 
staff that was reading my mind, or the young man?  I mumbled a reply and 
shoveled some eggs into my mouth, still unsure what to say.

"There are some things we need to talk about," he continued.  "Some 
truths that need to be exposed; after you hear them, if you decide to 
leave, nothing will be said, and you'll have your payment for the whole 
summer as severance."  I looked up at that; aside from David, I had no 
homosexual experience and really wasn't attracted to mature members of my 
sex.  Yeah, for guilt, I might entertain...  David's words cut me off 
mid-thought.

"I'm going to be blunt and to the point," he began.  "While your crafts 
are nice window-dressing, the reason why you're here is because of your 
past.  It is rather awkward to say, but some of our campers have some 
rather interesting thoughts as to what the summer experience should be 
like, and they'll be staying here with you.  Boys who want to be 
molested, girls who want a 'real man' to welcome them into womanhood.  We 
had one last year who was bound and determined to leave camp with a baby 
in her womb, and tried damn hard to accomplish it."

What can someone say to such a thing?  I just stared at him, my fork 
halfway to my mouth.

He went on.  "We accommodate the needs of our campers here, to the best 
of our abilities.  One of our staff last year handled a lot of our 
issues, however he had a bit of a run in with the law after posting 
pictures of our campers online.  Thankfully, the investigation didn't go 
further than a shocked reaction from our camp.  Some parents were quite 
distressed that he would not be available this year; and we went 
scrambling to discover another, umm, special councilor for those 
particular campers.  You're it.

"We'll provide profiles of likes and dislikes; you'll be happy to find 
out, perhaps, that most like to limit most of their activities to oral or 
hand stimulation.  Some of the girls would faint at the idea of fucking a 
large dick whereas they would think nothing of the same spurting into 
their mouths.  We'll limit it so that you have no more than three 
visitors at a time, and that they will be compatible with each other.  
The staff are almost miracle workers when it comes to such things and are 
rarely wrong.

"Should something go wrong, however, we'll provide whatever resources are 
needed to, well, run beyond the reach of the law.  The previous special 
councilor is enjoying a nice villa under a new name; the parents provided 
the financial means and expertise." 
I blinked.  I set down the fork.  My mouth formed various shapes and my 
throat let out a few odd noises.  David waited for me to get myself under 
control.  Eventually, I said, "You're fucking nuts."

"Really," he replied blandly.  "You're not my type anymore, so my nuts 
and where they fuck are none of your business."

I grimaced; he always was a smartass.  "You're telling me that I'm being 
set up as the resident child molester?"  He nodded, a bit of a sparkle of 
humor in his eye.  "That is insane."

"Well, you've a bit of experience, don't seem to have much trouble 
handling the issue, if the past is to be the judge.  You can't tell me 
that you haven't re-created the events we shared in your mind since then; 
I know you too well for that.  Sharing this palace with a few Davids 
shouldn't be something beyond your ability."

I looked about the lodge, considering it for a moment.  A couple horny 
boys...  "Look," I said, snapping out of a quickly forming pleasant 
fantasy, "people just don't do this."

"You did," he pointed out in a reasonable tone.  "I understand your 
hesitation, but these boys and girls are seeking out companionship with 
an adult like yourself. You're not chasing some innocent child, they are 
looking forward to spending time with you."

"And you know this because some computer tells you so?" I asked, goading 
him a bit.

"That and seeing the results of their 'matches.' Last year's crop was an 
eye opener.  They'll spend just their evenings with you, you'll drop them 
off at breakfast, and return to get them at dinner.  They'll spend the 
day with people their age, and their nights in your arms."  David looked 
about and chuckled, "in your arms in a very lovely setting.  I might 
reconsider testing how much things are different with my growing up, 
especially for time in your shower and hot tub."

The village, I realized then and there, was a fuck farm for kids.  It 
explained the bed arrangements and the apparent forgotten issues of 
privacy.  It was set up in such a way that a child could be seduced very 
easily; naked in an expansive shower, some booze while enjoying a hot tub 
under the stars, a semi private bathroom where body parts could be shown, 
a sleeping area in the round so that undressing would have to be done in 
front of others.  "Unfuckingbelievable," I stated, simply.

"Aww," replied David.  "Really, if I closed my eyes and just remembered 
what I was like, what you were like, I'm sure that it could be 
managed..."

"Smartass," I repeated.  "These kids really want this to happen?"

He nodded and sighed, deciding to find a seat.  "Yes, they do.  It's 
likely because of their upbringing; rich idle kids..  What would you have 
done when you were ten and had access to the internet on an unlimited 
basis?"

"Look at porn 24/7."

He laughed and nodded, "Not to mention downloading films and watching 
them.  They skip the rubbing and dreaming about the flat boobs on the 
model from the ripped page in Playboy and are watching guys shoot their 
loads across their partners.  Gay films seem to be out in numbers, so 
odds are more likely than not that the first film they'll download will 
be of that fashion.  I suspect that if child pornography was more 
available, they'd be more inclined to experiment among their own age 
group."

Huh.  Interesting theory.  Likely bullshit, but interesting theory none 
the less.  "And if there are any problems?"

"There won't be, but as I said, you're covered no matter what."

I didn't know what to say.  Hell, since Sarah died, I hadn't seen a naked 
child aside from my daughter.  "I'm not sure I'd be able to do it, well, 
right."

He shrugged, stood up, reached over into a drawer, and pulled out a 
remote.  A click and an LCD display popped up.  "I said he was a 
photographer; he also enjoyed videos as well.  Think of them as 
educational materials.  If you're here for lunch, I'll not bring up the 
topic again."

I didn't leave the village area for the rest of the day and the following 
afternoon.  I think I had exhausted the supply of lubricants; the images 
were powerful and moving.  My balls were hurting from being beyond empty.

*>

The corporate types came and went, their teams fully built.  Summer camp 
began and my little girl who I had not seen for more than a month finally 
arrived.  The staff had arranged that we'd have some time together, and 
the first day we were together almost constantly.  I showed her the 
village, which she loved, and after dinner we sat around the fire until 
late in the night.  She shared the living lodge with me that evening, and 
the next morning we had breakfast delivered.

It was a lot of fun, and it sort of made up for my long absence.  I 
wasn't even with her, not by a long shot, but she knew where I was, I 
knew where she was, and all was good again.

I drove her over to the chowhouse to meet up with her group at lunch time 
and was very glad that I had purchased a new wardrobe for her time at 
camp upon seeing her cabin mates.  The whole lot looked to be spoiled 
brats, to be honest, and it was the first time I really had second 
thoughts about being there.

Back at my lodge, there was a blinking light, letting me know I had yet 
another message.  It was a text mail that was simply from 'Staff' which 
let me know that a schedule adjustment had been made, and that I had my 
first guest to pick up at the dinner hour.  Attached was a full outline, 
describing the boy.

Thomas Mails was age 11, five foot three, 98 pounds.  Son of a movie 
producer, the boy had appeared in several commercials.  Blond hair that 
would likely go brown after the summer, brown eyes, roundish face made 
more round by the fashion of the week haircut. The profile went on to 
explain who had raised him, a letter to the camp about dietary concerns, 
medical information.  What it didn't explain was, well, what I was 
supposed to do with him.

A half hour later, another e-mail popped up from David saying a mistake 
had occured and that I didn't have a guest; seconds later a Staff memo 
appeared countering David's e-mail.  And then shortly after an e-mail 
from David saying that he'd be right over. 

I waited with some amusement for him to arrive, and his 'car' skidded to 
a halt minutes later outside the living lodge.  He entered and looked 
flush from either anger or excitement, I wasn't sure which.

"Hey David, need a cold one?" I offered and he agreed quickly.  I tossed 
him a bottle from my new stock and he pulled off the cap before I could 
toss him the church key.  Pretty amazing for tops that weren't twist off. 
"What's wrong?" I asked as I opened mine in the more conventional manner.

"I don't know why Staff has assigned the boy to you," he began, and then 
proceeded to guzzle half the beer, wiping the overage from his face with 
the back of his hand.  "You weren't supposed to have anyone for a couple 
weeks, to give you and your daughter some time together, plus to give you 
time to adjust to the camp."

Computer rebels?  Interesting.  "Perhaps Staff identified some reason for 
the change?"  I got up and went to the heater control, to insure that the 
radiant pipes hadn't frozen in the last few minutes, because I suddenly 
felt cold.  The temp indicator showed a comfortable 80.

"We specifically went through the list of guests to make sure that there 
wasn't anyone who needed your attention," he remarked, burping loudly 
after he finished the bottle.  "Mind if I get myself another?"

I nodded, distracted by wondering about the sudden change.  He poured 
himself a half hand of scotch and took a healthy gulp.  "Staff seems 
insistent about the matter, notifying others that I'm trying to block 
their assignments.  Before I had finished my e-mail to you, I had Deborah 
on the phone to me."

"Has this ever happened before," I wondered.

"Once," he admitted.  "Staff assigned a whole group to your predecessor, 
instead of the usual few.  We had gotten notification the next day that 
several parents of the members of the group had died in a plane accident.  
They needed personal attention; not quite the usual, but more than the 
woman who was originally assigned could have handled.  We guess that the 
Staff connected the names off of a news report and made the switch at the 
last moment."

"His parents are fine, I take it?"

"Very, and conservative to boot," he replied, getting towards the bottom 
of the glass rather quickly.  He set it aside.  "I don't know what is 
going on, but I'd suggest just, well, taking it easy."

I nervously laughed.  "Yeah, David, I'll take it easy.  You do realize 
that I have no idea what exactly it is that I'm supposed to do, I mean, 
to go about all this.  I didn't seek you out, or Sarah for that matter."

He nodded, his color having returned.  "I wouldn't worry too much," he 
said and then frowned, "or I wouldn't have until now.  Your first few 
guests were repeat visitors.. We figured they'd, uhh, show you the 
ropes."

"How conservative?" I asked.

"Very," he replied with a sigh.  "Most of his productions are Christian 
music videos, Christmas and Easter specials, that sort of thing."  He 
glanced around and then stood up abruptly.  "I guess that you'll be 
picking him up after dinner; remember that he likes being called Thomas, 
not Tom or Tommy."

After David left, I sat there for a while, just wondering what it was 
that I was getting into for not the first time.  I was still sitting 
there, not having gotten very far, when the dinner hour arrived.  I drove 
over, ate my meal with other staff members, then went to the appointed 
table to pick up Thomas.

The rest of his group were larger and more assured boys, and I wondered 
again at the Staff decision.  The 'special' treatment of staying with me 
likely would cause the boy grief when he was returned the next morning.  
A poor mix to begin with, made worse.  What was Staff thinking in their 
little electron brains?

Introductions were made; the group leader was already aware of where the 
boy would be staying, and took a moment to inquire as to if his 
reservation for the following Saturday evening was still good to go.  I 
distractedly nodded and collected the boy for the trip back.  He was 
rather quiet, didn't ask why he was sleeping somewhere else, or say much 
of anything.  Polite questions about his first day were met with one 
syllable replies.

We got to the car and I made a decision, calling after him as he went to 
the passenger side.  "You're going the wrong way," I said, tossing him 
the keys.  He came out of his shell for a moment with a smile, looking at 
the keys and then popped right back in with a mumbled remark that he 
didn't know how to drive.  "I'll give some advice, but don't listen to me 
too closely; it's my third car in the last couple weeks, the others are 
smashed up all over the place."

He laughed at the thought and started for the driver's side as I got into 
the passenger seat.  He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out 
where to put the key, and I took the moment to explain the controls to 
him. "She gets up a good head of steam if you floor it, but otherwise 
moves a bit faster than someone can walk.  No doors, so if you screw up, 
we can dive for safety before you smash it up.  Go ahead, fire up the 
electrons and let's go."

He two footed it at first, attempting to give both of us whiplash.  Once 
his left foot was away from the brake peddle, he started off at a crawl.  
I told him he was doing fine, and to follow the signs on the path to the 
village.  I was sort of babbling, I think, filling in the void of his 
concentration on driving.  But at least his responses were more than a 
single word.

We made it to the lodge, and I told him to unload his bag inside; one of 
the many invisibles had delivered it while we were gone.  I returned to 
find him sticking his pajamas into a drawer and suggested he just leave 
them out.  "Better than digging for them in a bit anyway when it was time 
to change after the shower."  He nodded and left them out, putting them 
on one of the smaller couches.

His first real sentence was a good question: "Where's the beds?"  I 
showed him how the couches unfolded into low beds, and he decided to take 
some time deciding on just which one he wanted.  He moved his clothes 
from one cabinet to another to complete the adjustment.

What to do now, I wondered.  I decided on taking him on a tour of the 
village, showing him some of the beadwork I was working on, how the fire 
ring outside was controlled, the bathrooms (which he took the opportunity 
of without bothering to use the curtain), the tub with the stars which he 
really liked, and then the shower.

The rainfall of water and steam interested him the most and he asked if 
he could use it.  Being that the invisibles had delivered a couple robes 
and some towels to the showers, I didn't see any reason to object and 
told him yes.  He began stripping putting his clothes away into the 
waterproof lockers, and I started following his example, abet more 
slowly.  I wasn't sure how he'd react to it, but it didn't seem to bother 
him and soon we were both naked.

I took the opportunity to look him over.  He had a dusting of dark hair 
at his groin, some speckles of the same under his arms.  I caught him out 
of the corner of my eye checking me out as well; something I would have 
done at his age as well.  Both of us were rather retracted, cock and 
balls, before the steam and water warmed us.  I got half hard when he 
started soaping up from the dispenser.

That was, truth be told, one of the downfalls of the shower.  Since water 
was virtually everywhere, one couldn't really get soaped up fully.  And 
concentrating on that fact kept myself calm.  And it worked for a few 
minutes, until he asked for some help getting his back scrubbed.

I puddled some soap into my hand and started to try to get it on his 
back, the water kept washing it away just about as fast as I applied it.  
He asked, after I kept trying, if there was a pause button on the shower.  
"I guess," I said.  "Just push the shower button, that'll turn it off."  
I had always just went from shower to dry, but he had a good idea.  
Perhaps I won't have to continue using the basin in the bathroom to 
actually scrub my hair.

He hit the button and returned, presenting his backside for scrubbing.  I 
applied some more soap to my hand and then started rubbing it in, turning 
it more into a massage as he made small noises of pleasure.  He had very 
clean shoulders by the time he moved forward, with a small sigh.  "I'll 
wash off then do you," he said.  My half hardness returned; the last two 
words interested my cock, especially coming from someone with a soapy 
backside.

The steam rebillowed as the water started raining down again, and I was 
happy that it somewhat covered me.  But all too quickly he had shed the 
soap and was shutting off the shower again to handle my back.  As his 
hands brought the slightly cold soap onto my back, I marveled at their 
dexterity and strength.  He really worked my back over, and I leaned 
forward a bit to lower my shoulders to get similar attention.  My soapy 
rump contacted his groin, but his fingers didn't stop.  He instead moved 
closer to reach my shoulders, and started rubbing in the soap.

His hardness as he slipped into my crack surprised me, but I made no 
movement to discourage it.  My own dick had gotten instantly hard as 
well, and I made some purring noises has he bounced on the balls of his 
feet, reaching the tops of the shoulders, grinding himself against my 
rump.

A minute or so of this, and then he moved off, pushing the button to 
start the shower again.  I hadn't noticed before, but he was 
uncircumcised, something that I had never really seen before in real 
life.  The skin was long at the end, making almost a cone atop his penis, 
making the whole length maybe four inches.  It was the right scale to his 
body.  The balls weren't, it looked like he had a pair of golf balls 
slung under his dick, and when he was pushing the button, I watched in 
amazement as they rolled in the sack.

I thanked him for the scrub down, not covering up my own hardness, and he 
cheerfully said welcome.  We both quieted down, physically, as the steam 
and rain did their work, and it was with some regret that I went over to 
the panel to dry out the pair of waterlogged prunes we were swiftly 
becoming.  The currents of hot air started running around the lodge, 
drying the skin in just a couple minutes.  I didn't feel like staying in 
until my hair was dry, and he was looking a bit bored himself.

I tossed him a robe and a towel; not that the towel was really needed.  
He donned the robe and loosely crossed the ties, I did the same, and we 
wandered out.

"Can we use the hot tub now?" he asked, looking longingly at the lodge.  
I chuckled and said sure, but I'd have to stop by the bathroom first, if 
he wanted to run ahead.  "I could use a piss too," he admitted, grinning 
at his own language.  I didn't bother to try to correct him.  We urinated 
into separate toilets and met back at the basin, washing our hands and 
then went over to the tub.

When we got inside, I tossed my robe up on to the hook by the flap and 
asked if he wanted something to drink.  I knew I did.  He gave me a 
sheepish grin and said he wanted a rum and coke and I admit I just gaped 
at him.  "If you got it," he amended, before climbing up and into the 
water, giving me a nice show in the process.

"A bit young for such drinks, don't you think?" I asked him, curious as 
to his response.

"Old enough," he replied, leaning back in the water, "to know that it 
quiets me down.  If you'd rather just make it a coke, that's fine, just 
don't complain when I'm bouncing on the bed in a few hours."

I chuckled and said that perhaps some bottled water would do better and 
he made a sour face.  I shrugged and fixed him the rum and coke with just 
a brief splash of booze, giving myself one as well.  Hadn't had one in a 
while.  I lifted a leg and sat on the edge of the tub, offering his glass 
over to him.  He took it, gulped a sip, and then put it in the cup 
holder, sighing.  I took a sip as well, and then set mine next to his, 
and finished moving into the tub.

After a couple minutes of soaking in the heat, he asked if I could turn 
on those stars and something to listen to, and I readily agreed, always 
happy to show off the creations of others, or as I like to think of it, 
my domain.  I hung over the edge and fiddled with the controls, then 
returned to the water, taking another sip of my drink.  Damn, the rum 
must have sunk to the bottom, as it was more mild than my first sip.

Thomas was making good headway into his drink, and the music started to 
swell.  Robbie Robertson really made the stars dance well, if I say so 
myself.  I sucked through some more coke, swirling my glass to try to get 
the rum to move back upwards.  He finished off his cup with a smacking of 
lips.  I chuckled as he suggested that he get his own refill, and I took 
a healthy slug of my drink.  Damn, next time I'm adding more booze to 
mine, I thought to myself as I got out and refreshed mine, and fixed him 
a more mild one than the first.  Kids throwing up was one thing I didn't 
want to even come close to imagining.

I got back in, passed over his, and took a sip of mine.  Ahh, much 
better, can taste the rum now.  We chatted for a few minutes about his 
day and the player swayed into the one track on the album I really didn't 
like.  He asked me if we could skip this song, and I agreed.  I heard 
loud sipping noises and a 'ahh' as he dipped some more into his mostly 
coke.  Music fixed, I returned to the tub.

We both tried to reach for the cups at the same time and got tangled up a 
bit, mine spilling over the edge onto the floor.  I sighed, thinking that 
there was some conspiracy to keep me from my booze and crawled out of the 
hot water. The stones were set up much the same as the shower, and the 
water dripping off of me was enough to wash the stickiness away.  I 
decided to try another drink and proceeded to make myself a grasshopper.

Thomas perked up at the strange green beverage and he started bugging me 
for a sip.  At least he was making his drink last a bit longer this time, 
though he was more than half way through it.  I relented and let him have 
a sip and his mouth made an O of surprise.  They really are yummy.  "No, 
you can't have one," I said, to forestall the upcoming request.

He denied that he was interested.  "It's nice, but that after the cokes 
would knock me on my back."  Huh.  Well, he's a shrimp, so perhaps that 
splash and a half of rum was really a lot for him.

"So," I asked, settling back into the water, "where did you pick up on 
rum and coke at your age?"

He finished off what was left of his glass and leaned back onto the 
headrest.  "From my dad..  He'd have me make them for him all the time, 
and sometimes he'd let me have one.  Wow, I'm feelin' kind of dizzy."

"Sorry, squirt," I said.  "I didn't think I put all that much in your 
drinks."

He laughed, a little too hard, and slipped under the water.  Coming back 
up for air, he was still laughing.  "You didn't," he replied, sticking 
his tongue out at me.

Ahh shit.  "You switched drinks on me," I said and he nodded a bit longer 
than needed.  "Why," I asked, puzzled.

"'cause you wouldn't let me have enough to get relaxed," he replied, his 
words slightly slurred.  "And I needed to be relaxed."  Ahh hell, I 
wonder if anyone ever got fired for getting a kid drunk and then I 
realized what my position was, and considered if anyone would even think 
a second on the matter.

"You're going to have a mother of a headache in the morning," I muttered, 
half hoping that it taught him a lesson and he started giggling.

"Nuh-uh," he replied.  "The hot tub will boil some of it out of me, and 
I'm gonna drink lots of water to make sure I don't de-high-drate.  Plus 
you're gonna give me a couple aspirins or something to get ahead of the 
game," he insisted.

"Had hangovers before?" I asked, rather curious and starting to become 
amused.  He was a friendly drunk.

He nodded, "Southern Comfort," he said with a grimace, and I gave one 
myself.  Evil hangovers from that stuff.

"Starting on that stuff a bit early, aren't you?" I asked with a bit of a 
chuckle.

He shrugged his shoulders with exaggeration.  "Nahh, I don't do it much..  
Bad for you, stunts your growth, don'tsha know."  I chuckled at that.  
"'sides, I kinda like you, and I got scared that you were mad at me when 
I was washin' your backsides, until I saw ya when I went to push da 
button.  You gotta nice sized one," he observed.

"Yours is nothing to be ashamed of," I admitted between sips.

"Ya think?" he asked, splashing around a bit as he tried to stand up on 
the slippery seat.  His hard cock came out of the water, drops falling 
off of the skin flap hanging off the end.  He leaned up against the edge 
and stared down at his member, a hand reaching out to pull back on the 
skin to expose the purple-red head.  "I like your look better," he 
decided, sliding the skin back and forth.  "Seems cleaner.. Err, 
smootherer."  He grinned sheepishly at his invented words, and his hand 
was still masturbating himself.

I set down my glass and slid up to sit on the edge as well, my own penis 
having awoken at his display.  "I donno," I said, reaching down to move 
it around a bit.  "Some skin at the end would be nice sometimes, make 
underwear more comfortable on hot days." 

He shrugged and reached over with his other hand to run along the top 
side of my dick.  "Yer really hard," he observed, his other hand still 
rhythmically moving up and down.  "I can feel your heartbeat," he noted 
with some mild surprise.

"Easier to feel such things on another person," I observed.  I looked 
over at the hand that was moving faster.  "I don't think that the camp 
would appreciate you jacking off into the tub."

He laughed.  "Well, tissues would be messy..  Wet and all," he replied.  
"So either get a towel, or open your mouth."

Now that was a bit more unexpected and I chalked it up to the booze 
talking.  But, well, I was really curious as to the boy's flavor, and ten 
years was a long time ago.  And wasn't that why I was here at camp 
anyways?  I moved off the edge and floated to between his legs, opening 
my mouth like a target.  His grin grew, and his hand started moving a bit 
quicker.  A drop of something I hoped wasn't water formed at the end, and 
I licked it off with the tip of my tongue.  He breathed in sharp at the 
touch, his hips shoved forward, and the first taste of the boy's pre-cum 
was instantly replaced by hard spurts of his watery cum. It was 
accompanied by more than a few heavy grunts.

It also tasted wonderful.

He slipped back into the water, and tossed a leg over me, hugging me 
chest to chest.  I felt a couple more shudders as aftershocks came and 
went and finally he dragged out a deep breath.  A rum soaked deep breath. 
"Thank you," he said into my shoulder, and I just rubbed his back.  His 
butt was right up against my own hard on, and even though he just shot 
off, his cock was still hard against my belly.

"You're welcome," I replied warmly.  Damn this one will turn out to be a 
handful, I was sure.

A few minutes passed, me just hugging, him just hugging, both of us hard 
as rocks.  After a bit, he started to wiggle a bit, and I suggested that 
if he was able to walk, we'd better retire to the sleeping lodge.  He 
nodded and crawled off of me, got up on the edge, and swung over onto the 
rocks.  I followed with a bit more coordination.  His eyes locked on my 
bobbing hard on and his mouth opened slightly.  I just went and put on my 
robe, offering his to him.  That, and the covering of my body, seemed to 
bring him back to the moment.

"I wanna sit by the fire pit for a while," he said.

And I want to go haul you into my bed and see if I can make you bounce 
off the ceiling, I thought, but instead noted that he couldn't sit out 
there by himself.  He laughed and said 'course not, and that he wanted to 
sit there with me.  So we ended up going out into the cool night, 
flipping the switch, and enjoying music and fire beneath the dark sky.  I 
really did love the glade; without being outright private, it was 
private.  I could have dozens of kids dancing around naked and no one 
would be the wiser unless they happened by.

So I didn't react poorly when his small hand went exploring my body, hand 
rubbing from neck down to groin, tracing veins on my cock, running along 
my piss slit, cupping my heavy balls.  He did all this while staring into 
the flames, and then he started talking.

**> End of Part Two <**

-- 
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