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Subject: {ASSM} Girl Fag - Chapter 21 by Rachael Ross (Story Codes: See Ch.1)
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Copyright 2004 Rachael Ross all rights reserved.

Please see chapter one for story codes and important background
information. I strongly suggest you do not read this chapter without
first reading the previous twenty chapters.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Girl Fag
by Rachael

Chapter Twenty One


I finally did make it onto the playing field for football practice,
about halfway through it, and Coach was none too happy about that. He
looked a little more worried than mad though, probably since I'd
missed my morning workout with him as well. I think he thought I
wasn't feeling well and he'd need me for the game on Saturday, but
of course it wasn't just that. He cared about me too. So he didn't
do a whole lot of yelling or anything and when I told him I was gonna
be going on a little trip and miss three days the next week, he took it
okay. Sorta.

"Three days?" Coach stared at me. "You gotta be kiddin' me,
Russet! It ain't preseason no more. It ain't practice no more.
We're playin' for keeps now, boy!"

"Yes sir." I nodded, feeling a little guilty.

"This got anything to do with my assistant being gone those exact
same three days?" He stared at me and all I could do was shrug.
"Yeah, yeah I got my special player and Coach Haven's got hers."
He actually chuckled a little. "Or maybe you got yours, eh boy?"

I didn't know what to say to that, but Coach wasn't looking for an
answer anyway. If nothing else, Coach knew how to respect a person's
privacy. Coach Haven wasn't around, but I didn't expect she would
be. She'd had her fun with Little Steve in the locker room and
probably figured I could babysit myself while she went off someplace
with my brother. At least that's what I'd have done if I was her.

"Uh, well..."

"Don't answer that, boy." Coach cut me off. "You just be ready
to play come game day, or there's gonna be hell to pay. Understand
me?" He was being loud for the rest of the boys, I knew, and that was
okay. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'm gonna have a piece of
that ass in the mornin', boy. Don't you be late."

"Yes sir." I whispered back, nodding my helmet.

"Go on, get yer butt out there and show me somethin'!" Coach
slapped my ass and sent me onto the field.

I spent most of the next hour running with the ball as our offense
practiced against our defense. I hadn't really been in the mood for
football, to tell the truth, but once I started practicing it started
feeling good. I liked running, bouncing off guys and faking them out.
It got me hot and sweaty and breathless, sorta like sex, except better
in some ways. The only bad part was that I had to see Brian all the
time, since he was the quarterback.

He asked me a whole bunch of times when I was gonna come over to his
house again, and when we were gonna go see a movie or something. But I
pretty much ignored him, which was a lot easier than it had been the
day before since Coach just wanted to see me with the ball. Brian
couldn't punish me by passing or anything.

"Hey, what's up with you anyway?" Brian grabbed my elbow as we
were walking off the field after practice was done.

 "Nothin'" I shrugged him off, "I just don't wanna come over
to your house no more."

"What?" Brian sounded like he didn't believe me. "Why?"

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" I wasn't feeling like dealing
with Brian then, but it didn't seem like he was gonna just drop it
either. Another thing I didn't like about him all that much. He just
didn't know when to shut-up.

"What's wrong with right now?" Brian was still trying to slow me
down, tugging at my jersey.

"Leave her alone, dude." Lance bumped his way between us, kinda
shoving Brian out of the way. "You okay?" He looked at me.

Matt was there too, on the other side of me so I was between them,
leaving Brian behind us and probably frowning unhappily, but I didn't
bother to look and see.

"Yeah." I smiled at him. "I am now."

Matt and Lance were waiting for me after I got a quick shower and
changed, standing outside the locker room and probably figuring I'd
be riding home with them.

"What was Coach yellin' about anyway?" Matt asked me as we walked
down the hall towards the exit.

"He wasn't yelling." I laughed.

"Sounded like he was." Lance said. "But it's hard to tell
sometimes."

"Nah, he was just givin' me a hard time cause I'm gonna be gone
next week." And then I had to explain that that I was going to Oregon
with Steve and Miss Haven. "Cause they're getting' married." I
grinned, knowing that would probably freak them out a little.

"What?" We were just about outside and Matt stopped, staring at me.
"Steve and...Miss Haven?"

"He don't know about us does he?" Lance asked and then dropped
his voice to a whisper. "What we did the other day?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Oh shit." Matt looked a little unhappy, so did Lance, mostly
because Steve was pretty big and they were just 14 years old.

I laughed at them and pushed open the doors. "Don't worry; Miss
Haven didn't know it was you guys anyway."

"You sure, dude? Cause like...we fucked your brother's wife!"
Lance was forgetting to whisper and I reached up and slapped the back
of his neck. "Ow!"

"You guys just don't say anything to anybody and it'll be
cool." I told them, just like I had about a zillion times already.

"Steve finds out he's gonna kill us." Matt was saying, shaking
his head, and I didn't know if he was right or not, but I didn't
want to find out either.

Everybody parked their bikes by the bleachers, which was close to the
parking lot and right where Little Steve's dad was probably gonna
pick us up anyway. I'd sorta expected Steve to be there waiting for
me when I'd come out of the locker room, but he wasn't. Probably he
wouldn't want to go near that place again though, just in case Nurse
Haven happened to see him. I think she really had scared him a little
more than he needed, although he'd liked it too.

"Come on faggot, suck my dick..." I heard Brian's voice before I
saw him, and some other boys' too, giggling at something. "Its
right here, you know you want it!"

Matt, Lance and I all sort of looked at each other, cause that wasn't
the sort of thing we usually heard around school, even after football
practice when guys were all wound up and liked to say stupid stuff
anyway. This was different and as we walked around the bleachers we
could see three boys standing around someone else.

It was Brian and two of his football buddies, Tommy Wirtengale and
Shaun Fitzgerald. I'd known Tommy and Shaun my whole life mostly, and
I didn't like either one of them a whole lot. Tommy was stupid in a
cruel way, and Shaun would do anything if it meant he could hang out
with anyone he thought was cool. He'd decided Brian was cool, I
guess, and that made him stupid too, in my opinion. And a bully, since
he was hanging out with Brian and Tommy now.

"Just give it a kiss, queer boy!" Tommy was saying. He was tall and
skinny, with a big nose and an even bigger Adam's apple that bobbed
up and down when he talked. I thought it made him look like a pelican
sorta. He had short brown hair and brown eyes, and wasn't really ugly
or handsome, just annoying.

"He's gonna cry!" Shaun was laughing. He was all Irish all over,
like you couldn't guess from his name, right? Red hair and freckles
and light skinned so that he always got sunburned every summer and his
face was still peeling a little even then, halfway into autumn. He was
big too, not as tall as Brian, but stocky and he was the center on the
football team.

"What's goin' on?" Matt asked, not really friendly at all.

"Nothin, just some fag wants to suck some dick." Tommy grinned at
us, but that was because he was too dumb to realize we weren't
laughing.

"We're just havin' some fun." Brian glanced at us, mostly at
me, and he scowled cause he knew I was gonna be pissed.

"Leave me alone!" And that was Little Steve's voice and as big
Shaun moved a little we got a clear view of him sorta kneeling on the
grass in the middle of those three much bigger boys, looking red faced
and mad and even a little beat up, but I don't think anyone had hit
him or anything. He just had that vulnerable look with his jacket half
off and his shirt pulled out of his pants, and his hair all mussed up.

"Get away from him!" I was instantly pissed, like way more than
just a little. Matt and Lance weren't too happy either, since Little
Steve had been hanging out with us, at least during lunch, and he'd
sorta made friends with my friends. Enough so he was gonna go to the
sleepover on Friday night at John's house.

We weren't very far away, but I about sprinted the dozen feet or so I
needed to and since Shaun was the closest one to us, he was the one I
kicked in the balls. But I'd have kicked any one of them, or all of
them if I could have, even Brian whom I really detested right then
cause I could see he really did have his dick out.

"Ugh!" Shaun grabbed at his nuts and then sort of dropped to the
ground slowly, to his knees first and then his side, sorta curling up
with his hands between his thighs and making choked coughing sounds. It
was one of those things you just had to watch, whether you wanted to or
not, and I don't think any of the boys wanted to. I mean it was even
hurting me, cause I was a boy anyway, even though I didn't have any
balls, and I felt a little queasy in my stomach after I'd realized
what I'd done. But I didn't feel bad about it either. Shaun
deserved it, in fact they all did, and I hoped they'd want to fight
cause I was seriously gonna fight dirty.

I'd learned fighting from my brothers mostly, but my Daddy always
gave the best advice. He said a fair fight was any fight you won, and
how you got there didn't really matter. So the point being, when you
know you're gonna fight make sure you get the first shot in, and make
sure it's a good one too. If it's good enough you might not have to
fight at all, and that made things a whole lot easier on everybody.
Shaun wasn't gonna be fighting, that was for certain. I'd kicked
him about as hard as I'd ever kicked anything in my life, and that
was pretty hard.

"We're just foolin' around..." Tommy was staring at Shaun, like
we all were, and backing away. He was gonna run since he was basically
a coward anyway.

"Jealous?" Brian looked up at me, still holding his cock and
shaking it a little. "You want some of this too?"

Brian wasn't gonna run though, but his nose was still sorta big from
when I'd punched him before, so he probably didn't wanna fight. One
good punch in the face would be really bad for him. But he wasn't the
kind of guy to back down either, at least not with his tail between his
legs. He'd wanna get some licks in, even if it was just talk, cause
his ego was too big for his brain.

"Shut-up, Brian." I said, feeling so much like a boy right then I
thought I had a boner. There was something exciting about getting in a
fight, I don't know what or why, but there was and it was more than
just adrenaline. It was sexual too.

"Or what?" He laughed at me. "You're gonna give me another blow
job?"

I took a step closer cause that was about all the talking I wanted to
do. My heart was pounding and my hands were clenched into tight little
fists. I was gonna pound him into next week, I was thinking, and I
didn't care what happened after that. I didn't care if Coach got
pissed at me, or if the principal suspended me, or if my dad took me to
the woodshed. I just wanted to kick Brian's ass.

"I'm okay." Steve was getting up, kinda brushing himself off.
"They didn't hurt me."

"We should kick his ass." Matt was saying and Lance was agreeing,
the three of us staring at Brian as he put his dick away. It was gonna
happen too. Matt and Lance hated Brian, and right then I did too. Any
second somebody was gonna throw a punch, I could feel it, and I was
just gonna wait and take the first clear shot I had at Brian's head.
That was my whole plan, just wait til he was busy with Matt or Lance
and then hit him in the head as hard and as many times as I could. It
seemed like a good plan to me.

"Hey, Steve? Ann?" Even the best laid plans can get spoiled though
and Little Steve's dad had pulled into the parking lot unnoticed by
us until we heard him calling out. Then I noticed the sweet growl of
that Cuda and I relaxed, just a little, cause it was like there was
some rule that said we couldn't fight with an adult around.

"Yeah, Dad!" Steve was grabbing my sleeve. "Forget about it,
it's cool. He didn't hurt me, come on..."

"You're so fucked up, Brian." I told him, sort of loudly, but I
didn't care if Steve's dad heard us or not. He probably couldn't
anyway. "I can't believe I ever liked you."

"Yeah yeah, run away with your fag boyfriend, bitch." Brian said,
staring after me, and that was a mistake. Probably 2 or 3 mistakes all
combined into one big one, cause right then Matt broke the rules and
nailed Brian right above his left eye, knocking the bigger boy down
flat on his ass. He never even saw it coming.

I never really did get a chance to explain to Matt and Lance why I was
getting into the car with Steve and his dad, but that was okay. I'd
see them soon enough. It was cool seeing Brian laid out for the second
time in a week and Little Steve grinned over his shoulder at Matt as we
walked over to his dad, who was wondering what the hell was going on.

"What the hell was that all about?" He asked Steve even before he
was saying hello to me.

"Oh, just some jerk." Steve shrugged. "You know."

Steve's dad didn't look too sure if he knew or not, but he dropped
it and smiled at me. "Hi Ann, ready to take a spin?"

He was a nice looking guy, vaguely feminine, I thought, the same way
his son was, but it wasn't unmanly or anything. Just sort
of...pretty, I guess. He had angular features and a straight nose with
high cheekbones. It was an interesting face and I liked it. I liked his
eyes, which were brown, but soft like caramel.

He was giving me a serious look too, like he had the other night, and I
could feel myself blushing a little, and inside I was still hot and
excited from the little fight with Brian and his friends. I just smiled
and nodded and figured that whatever he was thinking it would be okay,
I mean at least Little Steve was there and once we got to their house
then everything would be cool. But the way he was looking at me,
mmm...I knew what he was thinking and as hot as I was right then, I
sorta liked it.

I was thinking about little Steve at first, wondering if he was really
okay. I thought maybe it was my fault that Brian and those other guys
had ganged up on him. I mean he was hanging out with me, so that sorta
made him suspect anyway since I'd spent my whole life telling people
I was a boy. That wouldn't really mean much to Brian though, since
he'd liked me just fine himself. But maybe Brian was a little pissed
because I was hanging out with Steve, who was just a 7th grader instead
of with him. Brian didn't like any of my friends and Steve probably
looked like easy pickings. Or maybe Steve was just in the wrong place
at the wrong time, cause a bully like Brian and his idiot friends
probably didn't need much of a reason to pick on somebody anyway.

It confused me and I tried to push it out of my head. All that worrying
wasn't gonna do me any good, or Steve for that matter, and he seemed
to be okay. Probably he'd taken a lot of crap before about going out
with that Monica girl, or at least that's what he'd suggested when
we'd talked before. So he was probably tougher than he looked and
maybe it was good that we couldn't really talk about it. It might
have embarrassed him a little, since Brian had pulled his dick out and
maybe even wanted to really make Steve suck on it. But I didn't think
so, Brian wasn't gonna let any guy touch his dick, I was pretty sure.
He'd just done it to put a good scare into Little Steve.

Anyway, thinking about it, even for a minute or two, was enough to keep
the fire burnin inside me. I hoped Matt had knocked the guy out and if
Brian even looked at Steve funny I was gonna finish what he'd
started. I mighta been surprised at how quick love can turn to hate,
but I wasn't even trying to remember how I used to feel. I felt like
I had a real enemy now and bad as it sounds, that felt kinda sweet.

That Cuda was sweet too. Really sweet and I was sitting in the
passenger seat while Steve was sitting in the back. Steve's dad was
really showing off too and he seemed like an okay driver. Not as good
as Mark maybe, who was a serious driver, really quick and smooth, but
Mr. Sawyer did okay. He got rubber out of all four gears, and as he
raced through them it was non-stop acceleration. I felt like someone
was punching me in the chest, shoving me back hard into the firm
leather seat. It was awesome and another good rush to add to everything
else I was feeling inside.

"I got that turbocharger fixed, just like you said it was. Bad
seal." Mr. Sawyer was saying once he'd figured he'd shown off
enough. We were just cruising now, on our way to his house.

"Yeah, I could tell." I giggled a little and shrugged. "Not too
much else can go bad on a charger anyway. You ever get it timed?
Quarter mile or anything?"

"Nope." Mr. Sawyer glanced at me. "I'd like to though, probably
break fifteen, you think?"

I nodded. "Bust 14 easy with a good driver." Anything under 14
seconds was pretty quick for a stock production car. I figured my
brother could probably get it under 13 and a quarter. The quickest
muscle car ever was the '66 Cobra when it did a quarter mile in 12.20
seconds, but Jesus was driving that day.

"Hey, what're you trying to say?" He grinned at me and put his
right hand on my thigh, squeezing me playfully.

"Me?" I laughed and looked down at his hand, but I didn't say
anything about it. "Nothin'...You're a good driver, right?"

"Who's the best driver in your family?" Mr. Sawyer kept rubbing
my leg, just a little. "Your dad?"

"My dad?" I giggled at that. "Nah, he's just fair. He wasn't
ever much for racing, just building. My brother Mark's serious
though, he'll run his girlfriend's Challenger against anything he
can find for slips."

"His girlfriend's car?" Mr. Sawyer gave me a look in the dim
light. The sun had gone down a half hour before. Girlfriends weren't
generally noted for having hot cars.

"Yeah, '71 Challenger." I nodded seriously, looking back at him.
"Clocked twelve flat down at Hastings." I'd helped build
Sherry's Challenger, a little, and we were all pretty proud of it.
"You should come down there sometime."

Hastings was a little town whose only claim to fame was having a real
drag strip. They had races almost year round, pro's on weekends, and
amateurs a couple days every week. Gambling was illegal, but there's
an old saying that what happens in the pits stays in the pits, and
generally if you were going down you'd better bring a lot of cash, or
the registration, because the real drivers didn't run for nothin'.

"Jesus..Twelve flat?" Mr. Sawyer probably wouldn't have believed
a lot of people, but he knew I wasn't lying. "A Challenger? With
the 318 6-pac in it?"

"Nah. It ain't stock." I laughed. "If a cop ever took a serious
look under the hood it would probably get impounded. Mark put a full
blown 386 in it."

"A what?" He narrowed his eyes. "Never heard of a 386, where'd
that come from?"

"The secret place." I grinned at him. "You'd have to ask Mark,
but he probably won't tell you."

"You're teasin' me." He grinned and then looked a little
doubtful about that. "Right?"

"Nope." I looked at the man seriously and then I laughed.
"Well...just a little bit."

"I'd like to see it sometime." Mr. Sawyer was smiling and sliding
his hand inside my thigh, just a little. "So Mark's the driver,
huh?"

"Oh yeah." I licked my lips, wondering if I shouldn't try and do
something about Steve's dad and his busy hand, but it wasn't
bothering me that much. "He took an Enzo once." I giggled. "Some
billionaire from Seattle who couldn't drive. Daddy made him give it
back though."

"I thought that was just a story." Mr. Sawyer laughed.

"You heard about that?" I laughed, but I shouldn't have been
surprised. Cool stories always made their way around the hotrod
circuit.

"Yeah, but I always figured it was bullshit." He laughed. "Uh,
pardon my French."

"That's okay, we speak a lot of French at the garage." I was
smiling a lot and it was fun talking to the man about cars. He wasn't
really sharp, but he was an enthusiast, and I always liked those
people. I met a lot of guys like Mr. Sawyer at car shows and stuff and
it was refreshing.

But I was starting to wonder a little too. Little Steve was just
sitting in the backseat, not saying anything at all really, not even
leaning forward between to seats to listen like I probably would have
expected. It was almost like he wasn't even there, so I kept glancing
back at him every now and then, and he'd see me and smile, but that
was it. I hoped it wasn't cause of Brian, and I really thought it was
probably just cause he didn't care anything about cars, which I found
hard to understand, but I guessed it was possible.

But even when we got to the Sawyers' house it was more of the same,
kinda.

"Steve, go in the house and see how dinner's coming." Mr. Sawyer
told his son. "I'm gonna show Ann around the garage a little." He
smiled at me and all I could really do was smile back.

The house was nice enough, sort of that typical up and down boxy of
house that people built a lot of in the 1970's. No real character to
it, except it worked for living in. I'm not much of one for
architecture though. A house was a house and like everyone else in my
family I was of the opinion that it was a person's garage that told
you the most about him.

Mr. Sawyer had a big garage, big enough for three cars anyway, with
three big doors. Other than that it was a boring rectangle pained sort
of pastel green, near as I could tell by the outside lights that were
on.

"Here we go..." Mr. Sawyer had led me around to the side, where the
normal door was, and he opened it with a key. "Old habit." He
explained. "I spent too much time in big cities."

"Oh, okay." I didn't think I knew anybody who locked anything up,
really. But we did lock our garages too, just because we usually had
somebody else's car parked inside one or two of them, and they were
really expensive cars. Otherwise, if it was just our stuff, we didn't
think too much about it.

The man let me walk in first, putting his hand on my shoulder and
guiding me a little in the pitch blackness. It was strange and I hoped
I wouldn't bang my shin on anything, cause that always seemed to hurt
a lot. I heard the door close before Mr. Sawyer turned on the light,
and that seemed weird too. For a second there I was wondering if he
wasn't gonna turn on the light and 30 people would jump up yelling
surprise. But it wasn't my birthday or anything, so that didn't
seem too likely.

"Uh, Mr. Sawyer? I said, just standing there and he wasn't even
touching my shoulder anymore. It felt sorta lonely.

"Hold on Ann. I just wanna surprise you..." The lights suddenly
flickered on, or just one light I guess, just to my right near what
would be the back wall of the garage. I blinked and looked at Mr.
Sawyer who was standing there, next to a work bench built flush against
the wall. He was only about 10 feet away and smiling like he was
expecting me to say something, and then I saw something really weird.

On the wall behind him, there were pictures of...me! Like every picture
in every magazine I'd ever been in. Even the old Street Rodder mag
that had me when I was like 5 years old, holding my Daddy's hand
while he was pointing at something for an interview he'd done. But
mostly there was me when I was older, like 11 and 12 and 13 mostly,
when I'd been in a lot of magazines. There was me with the 'Vette,
Prodigy, and Mr. Sawyer must have bought two copies, cause he had
pictures cut out of pages, front and back.

There was pictures of me from Street Muscle, wearing my t-shirt that
said "Too Young" and holding the Best of Show award we'd gotten
for a '38 Hudson. Me again, with Steve, all of 10 years old, holding
a welding torch and smiling with sunglasses on for Low Rider magazine
and an old Caddy we'd pimped out. There was even the pictures that
Japanese guy had taken for Hachiban magazine in Japan! Hachiban means
'Number 8' and what that had to do with cars, I had no idea, but
he'd been nice and had taken a lot of pictures of me when I was just
12 years old, posing with an old Datsun that hadn't looked anything
like a Datsun when we were through with it.

It was like a shrine, or something, easily sixty or 70 pictures of me.
Just me, cut out from magazines, and I didn't know what to think
about that at all.

"I've been watching you for a long time, Ann." Mr. Sawyer was
saying. "Ever since you were little." He held out his hand,
wiggling his fingers and inviting me closer, but I wasn't really sure
I wanted to get closer. It was sort of spooky. "I uh...I like this
one the best..." He turned around a little and pointed at a picture
of me that was sorta recent, taken during the Seattle Car Show about 4
months before and used in the special issue of Seattle Car Enthusiast
magazine.

I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, sitting on the hood of A Shelby GT
that belonged to a friend of my dad's. One of those candid sort of
photo's that journalists take at car shows as they walk around. I'd
never even seen it before and it took me a minute before I figured out
where and when that was. I wondered if the reason Steve's dad liked
it so much was cause it was so recent, or because my 14 year old
nipples were plain as day through my tight white muscle-t shirt. It
made me blush a little when I realized about ten thousand people had
seen that picture. Not to mention the other ten thousand who'd been
walking around the convention center that day.

"You're so beautiful, Ann..." Mr. Sawyer was licking his lips and
his breathing seemed a little ragged.

That probably would have been a good time to make my excuses, don't
you think? Maybe said goodbye, or at least gone into the house and had
a little chat about the weather with Steve's mom or something. Being
alone in the garage, which was still pretty dim except for that bright
glowing area just around us...Being alone in there with Mr. Sawyer and
his strange fascination with me just didn't make a whole lot of
sense.

"That's why I moved here." Mr. Sawyer nodded, like I was sure to
understand. "So I could see you. So I could be close to you." He
was talking softly and he'd moved closer to me, since I was coming to
him. I wasn't moving at all.

"Oh, I wish I had a son like you, Ann..." He was touching me and I
wasn't running, or even trying to stop him. "...a beautiful boy
like you to make me proud..."

"I...I should go...maybe..." I was whispering and my heart was
thumping so hard in my chest it hurt a little. I felt like I had so
much energy inside me I was gonna explode, but it was going anywhere.
It wasn't doing anything, just building up and I felt a little dizzy
from it.

"No, it's okay..." Mr. Sawyer's hands were on my shoulders,
massaging me and then down my back as he stepped so close we could have
kissed. He was pulling me to him; or himself to me more like. My feet
were rooted to the floor and I just breathed, like taking small gasps,
and looking into his soft caramel eyes.

He was a grown man, not a kid or anything. And a married man too, not
like Coach, who didn't really seem like a person at all. Coach was
just Coach, sort of an entity, really. Mr. Sawyer was a man, living and
breathing, and touching me. I was reminded of Levi Smith, the football
player, and how I'd felt with him. It was that same sort of thing, a
strange yearning to be with someone older and stronger. But different
too. Mr. Sawyer was my friend's dad and I thought that should have
made me feel something, like guilt maybe, but I didn't.

"Why...?" I started asking him something, but I wasn't sure what.
I might have been asking him why he had my pictures, or why he wanted
to touch me, or why I wasn't running away.

But I sorta knew why. Mr. Sawyer liked me, maybe even loved me, but it
was in some way that I couldn't even begin to imagine. It was making
me tingle all over and I was so frightened it was a physical thing. But
I wasn't frightened of him, I was just frightened by where I was and
what we were doing and how I hadn't had any time or reason to prepare
for it. I was just a teenage kid and I felt like I was looking at my
dad somehow and that was what he wanted.

"My beautiful boy..." Mr. Sawyer was whispering, like he possessed
me or something and his hands were pushing my jacket off my shoulders.
"...Shhh...just relax, its okay..." He was talking to me softly and
I wasn't stopping him.

Mr. Sawyer moved around me, touching my, his face close to my neck and
cheeks and hair as he bent himself closer. I felt his hands moving
around my body too, feeling my through my t-shirt, finding my breasts
and cupping them gently, squeezing them as he stood behind so that the
discomfort of my fresh piercings made me shudder and I moaned.

He kissed my ear and I didn't know what I was doing. I should have
stopped him, or said something, or done something. Instead I just stood
there with my hands limp, my body moving the way he wanted me too. He
held my boob with one hand, while the other went down, to find the hem
of my shirt and come up underneath it. His hands were strong and gentle
and my tummy quivered beneath his touch.

"I've loved you so long..." he kissed my cheek and I turned my
head slightly, just enough so his mouth could find mine and I kissed
him as his hand went lower again, inside the waistband of my jeans, his
fingers reaching for my sex.

And I still didn't stop him. Mr. Sawyer was rubbing himself against
me, the bulge in his trousers, his hardness trapped as he pressed it
against my ass, bending his knees and pushing with his hips. I played
with his tongue, both of us breathing hard and I was barely aware of
his hands working to undo my pants. I was moving my own hips as well,
grinding my butt against him, working myself against his body. I was
hot and my eyes were tightly shut right then.

I felt cool air on my legs as my jeans slipped down below my knees and
then Mr. Sawyer had pushed my boxers down and we kissed awkwardly as he
worked to free his cock. He was panting and shaking with excitement and
then I felt the heat of his penis, hard and burning against my ass,
sliding up and down, nestled in the valley of my exposed ass.

"I...I'm just...I want to rub it here...just a little..." He
could barely speak and I reached behind me, wrapping my arms a little
around his back as he brought his hands up to hold me once again. One
hand under my shirt to play with my tits and the other on my stomach,
holding me in place as his cock slid up and down between us.

"I gotta put it in...Oh fuck...I gotta put it inside you..." He
told me, kissing me and reaching down to guide his penis to my tight
little ass.

If he'd tried to fuck my vagina I couldn't have stopped him. I was
so lost, so hot and easy for him, like I'd never been with anyone
before; Mr. Sawyer could have done anything with me. But he wanted a
boy, and that's what he kept calling me. His little boy, or his
beautiful boy and I knew he wanted me for the same reasons his son did.
He wanted to love a boy, deep in his secret heart, but couldn't. So
he'd found in me the next best thing, a girl who looked and acted not
only like a boy, but like the son he'd probably always wanted.

I gasped and arched my back, pressing my head against Mr. Sawyer's
chest as his cockhead stretched my anus and pushed inward. A second
after that he thrust into me deeply and so hard it very nearly lifted
me off my feet. It was painful like that, being fucked standing up and
dry besides. The position was awkward at best and all the man could do
was hold me tightly, thrusting slowly, with a few seconds pause in
between as he kept adjusting himself.

It was good for me though, so much different from anything else, even
from having sex in the shower where I might at least lean against the
wall, bending over and pushing my ass out. This was just slow and
deliberate and concentrated fucking and every time Mr. Sawyer pushed
into me he grunted with the effort. I could feel my ass tight around
him, my muscles contracting and trying to hold him.

"Oh...fuck...fuck it...fuck yeah..." Mr. Sawyer was groaning into
my ear, his mouth open with his jaw resting on my shoulder. I was so
small compared to him, he held me easily, lifting me off my feet at
times and letting me rest for brief seconds of unbelievable pleasure
impaled on his cock before letting me back down so he could withdraw
slightly and do it all again.

My orgasm was sudden and intense, making me writhe in his arms and my
mouth sought his desperately. I wanted to kiss him as my body was
suddenly awash with emotion. I felt confused as everything seemed to
confront me at once, all my fear and excitement and love and lust. I
couldn't tell any of them apart, all I knew was that it felt too
good. My body was responding as it was supposed to and my immature mind
was struggling to catch up, but it was hopeless and all I could do was
surrender completely.

Mr. Sawyer came soon after, his swollen cock jerking inside me, filling
my stretched and tender ass with a sudden flood of warmth. I could feel
it wet and squishy deep inside my bowels and we kissed all through it
as we came together like that. My orgasm seemed never ending and I was
still weak and shivering when Mr. Sawyer pulled his penis free of me. I
moaned at the strange ache of feeling empty again and I leaned against
him as he held me, both of us breathless and unable to do much more
than that.

"Oh that was good...as good as I ever imagined..." He was putting
his penis back into his pants and I blinked, trying to clear my head as
I pulled up my boxers and then my jeans. "Are you okay?" he asked
me and I nodded.

"Yeah...I think so..." I giggled a little, but I couldn't say
why. I felt good, yeah, maybe even happy, but I was sort of numb too.
I'd just been fucked by my friend's dad. I didn't know what I
felt.

"We...we better go in..." Mr. Sawyer smiled and I could tell he was
a little uncomfortable too, maybe realizing he'd just had sex with a
14 year old girl. He'd wanted me so bad for so long I guess he
couldn't help himself, but now that it had happened...Did it make
those desire go away somehow? Or just let them rest easier for a little
bit?

It was incredibly strange going into the house, entering through the
kitchen door and finding Mrs. Sawyer standing there, just putting the
finishing touches on the pork roast she'd been cooking for dinner.
Carol was there too, and Little Steve, both of them helping by setting
the table. It was about as normal a scene as any you could imagine, but
I'd just had sex with their husband and father. I felt my face
turning red and I couldn't look at any of them.

"Hi there, you must be Ann." The woman was wiping her hands,
smiling and reaching out to greet me. "I'm Donna." She was a good
looking woman in her early thirties, with shoulder length auburn hair
and hazel eyes; very tall too, like 5'10" or something, and shaped
like a swimsuit model, except she had white cutoff shorts and a loose
v-neck blouse on. She had a pretty face too, sort of serious looking I
thought, but she didn't mind showing off her body and I could see
where Carol had gotten her looks from.

I swallowed hard and took her hand, shaking it briefly. "Hi." I
said, but my voice was barely a whisper. I looked at Mr. Sawyer, "Can
I uh, use your bathroom?"

"Sure, yeah...Steve, show Ann where the bathroom is." Mr. Sawyer
was trying to smile at me, but it wasn't really a good one.

I followed Steve, who didn't say anything, trying to walk normally,
but my ass was tender and it felt like I had a dull cramp back there
every time I moved. I could also feel Mr. Sawyer's sperm inside me,
moving around and that was a feeling I'd never really gotten used to,
finding it kind of nice, but sort of dirty in a way too. I just hoped I
wasn't walking funny as I crossed the kitchen, cause sometimes when
you really try to do something you do all the time without even
thinking about it, then you do it differently. Or you do it the same
and it just seems different. You know what I mean.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked me as soon as we were out of the
kitchen and going down a short hallway.

"Yeah." I forced myself to smile. "We were just talking, that's
all." But saying that made it sound like we were doing something else
besides talking and I went into the bathroom quickly, closing the door
and locking it behind me. And then I threw up.

If I could have stayed in the bathroom all night, I would have. Or if I
could have just gone home, I would have done that too, even if it meant
walking all the way home. But I was stuck, totally. Mrs. Sawyer was
waiting for me, along with everyone else, and for all I knew she'd
worked hard to make that nice dinner just for me. I didn't want to
think so, but I suspected it. And I'd had sex with her husband in the
garage while she was doing it. I'd kissed him and let him fuck me in
the ass, both of us happily pretending I was his own little boy.

It was sick, I thought. I was sick and it was one thing to have fun
with my girlfriends, Jane and Julie, or even my brothers or Miss Haven.
She was gonna be Steve's wife, but it was okay, he knew all about us
and liked it, and actually encouraged it. But Mrs. Sawyer, I couldn't
even begin to think of her as Donna, she didn't know anything.
That's what was bothering me. I'd had sex with a married guy and
now I was going to sit down at his wife's table, eating her food, and
pretend like nothing had happened.

I washed my face and my hands and found some mouthwash in the medicine
cabinet, using it to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. I didn't
wash my ass though; I just wadded up some toilet paper and pushed it in
my butt. It was sort of like punishment maybe, or at least a good
reminder of what I'd done, as if I needed one. I don't know why I
didn't clean myself up, and it didn't really matter anyway. I'd
need a good long bath, or a shower to really get my ass clean, and that
was out of the question.

Everyone was waiting for me when I found my way back to the kitchen and
Mrs. Sawyer was still smiling at me. "Feel better, Ann? Why don't
you sit here and...do you want milk, or water?"

"Uh, just water please." I sat down, joined by Carol and Steve as
their parents finished getting the food and drinks.

"Dan, would you say Grace?" Donna asked her husband and I felt
about as guilty right then as I'd ever felt in my life. Now I was
praying with the woman. We all bowed our heads and I closed my eyes,
thinking I was probably going straight to hell for this.

"Bless us oh Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive
through Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen."

"Amen" We all said, even me.

I wasn't really used to praying over meals and I'm glad Mrs. Sawyer
hadn't asked me to pray. Some people liked to ask their guests to do
it; other folks figured it was the job of the man of the house. The
only prayer I really knew was 'Good food. Good meat. Good God.
Let's eat!' and the one time I'd said that at the dinner table my
dad had taken me for a trip to woodshed. Not so much for the prayer as
much as all the giggling me and my brothers had done afterwards. Daddy
had lined us up that night and we never made fun of God or his bounty
again.

Dinner went well enough. I mostly kept my eyes down, except when I
didn't have much choice except to look up. Mrs. Sawyer talked to me a
little, and of course I had to look at her when I answered, but she
only asked a little about my family and school and stuff. Steve talked
a little, and Carol liked to talk, she seemed more than happy to
distract her mother from me, and I was grateful for that. The only time
I was really caught off guard was when she asked me about Greg and how
he was doing, but if her parents were worried about her having an
interest in my brother they didn't show it.

Mr. Sawyer didn't say a whole lot, but he was looking at me from time
to time and it made me a little nervous. Uncomfortable too, especially
when I caught myself looking back. It was hard sitting there on my sore
butt, especially since I could feel all that sperm inside me sort of
squishing around a little. I felt bad for Mrs. Sawyer, guilty like I
said, but that didn't stop me from thinking about what her husband
had done to me and there was a little part of me, just a tiny voice in
my head that sorta liked thinking about it. Even in front of the
man's wife and kids, or maybe especially in front of them, but I shut
that out as much as I could.

I wondered what Mrs. Sawyer thought about all those pictures of me in
the garage, pasted up on the wall. She had to know they were there and
that confused me a little bit. I mean I hadn't wondered about it
before, other than the obvious weirdness of it. It seemed like it must
have been pretty plain that her husband had some sort of infatuation
with me. Hadn't he said they'd moved to Squinosha just because I
lived there? I tried to remember, but it seemed like he'd said that,
and that was just crazy. People didn't move to a town just so they
could live down the road from a 14 year old motorhead. If it was true
how had Mr. Sawyer explained it to his wife?

Unless she knew everything.

Like maybe Mrs. Sawyer didn't just know that her husband was in love
with a girl young enough to be his daughter. She knew that he intended
to find me and seduce me and have sex with me. Maybe she already knew
that he'd brought me to his home just so he could fuck me. Maybe Mrs.
Sawyer liked the idea and told him it was okay. That she wanted to sit
across the table from the little girl who looked and fucked like a boy,
just so she could see the look on my face. Probably they all knew.
Little Steve had to know, I was sure. He'd seen the way his dad had
been acting the other night at my house. Carol might have known too.
She'd had sex with my brother already, so it wasn't like she was
innocent or anything.

Towards the end of dinner I looked around the table, trying not to be
obvious about it, looking at their faces, watching their eyes, trying
to figure out if I was going totally crazy or not. Of course everything
looked normal and I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or even more
worried. There was so much I didn't know, so many things that were
beyond my understanding, I was lost again. The same way I always seemed
to be and I was thinking too much again. I'd forgotten my new
philosophy of just living life, instead of trying to figure it out. But
I'd never planned on any of this, had I?

 "Steve, why don't you show Ann the play room?" Little Steve's
mom was saying after we'd finished eating. I hadn't eaten a whole
lot, really, but she pretended not to notice.

"Oh, I should get going maybe..." I smiled apologetically, but it
was like I hadn't said a word.

"I thought I'd show her my little project." Mr. Sawyer was
saying, and then he looked at me. "I picked up a '76 Trans-Am..."

"Dear." Mrs. Sawyer put a hand on her husband's arm. "You've
had your fun, its Steve's turn. She's his friend too." She was
staring at Mr. Sawyer and he looked back at her, licking his lips.

Carol laughed a little and then got busy clearing the table as her
mother glanced at her. Steve was helping and he looked at me and
shrugged. I just stood there mostly, really wanting to go home.

"I really oughta get back home..." I tried again, hoping Mr. Sawyer
would say that he'd give me a ride. Well, part of me was hoping, the
part that wanted to get away from Mrs. Sawyer, the rest of me wasn't
really sure I wanted to be alone with her husband again. I didn't
think I was gonna have much choice in the matter though, unless I
called one of my brothers or something. But then another part of me
sorta liked the idea of getting another ride from Mr. Sawyer.

"Oh, it's early yet." Mrs. Sawyer smiled at me again. "Go have
some fun now, Dan can give you a ride in a little bit, okay? He's
gonna help me with the dishes."

And that was Little Steve's cue, I guess. "Yeah, come on. I'll
show you around." He said, jerking his head a little and Carol
giggled again and rolled her eyes at me.

"Sorry about that." Steve shrugged and we were upstairs in the
split level house, in what I guessed to be the so-called playroom.

It was basically a nice sized rec room, with a big TV and a stereo and
all that sort of stuff. There was a really soft sofa to sit on, and an
air hockey table and a real pinball machine, one of the old kind from
like when my dad was a kid, with numbers that rolled over instead of
digital readouts. There was like a little brass daybed against one
wall, which seemed odd, but I guess it was as good a place as any for
an extra bed. Some bookcases and an aquarium and a desk with a computer
on it. It was a pretty cool room and I could see why they called it the
play room.

"Your parents are kinda weird." I told Steve, smiling so it
wouldn't seem like I was down on them too much.

"Yeah, I told you they were." Steve nodded. "You wanna play some
air hockey? I'm pretty good at it."

"Yeah, sure." I shrugged and I actually relaxed a little, having
fun and laughing since he was pretty good and I really sucked at the
game. I was just glad to be away from Little Steve's mom more than
anything, maybe his dad too. But maybe not, since I could feel my butt
squeezing all that cum every time I leaned over the table trying to hit
that puck. It was leaking out a little, despite the toilet paper I'd
pushed in my ass, but I didn't mind it so much right then.

We didn't talk much while we played and I was surprised at how warm I
got from it, sweating and breathless, just a little. We finally quit
and just sorta flopped down on the sofa, sitting at opposite ends and I
kicked off my boots so I could put my feet up, turning to face Steve
and leaning back against the armrest.

I wanted to ask him if he was okay with what had happened with Brian
and those other guys earlier, but I didn't really know how to bring
it up without embarrassing him. Steve seemed okay anyway and he sat
there smiling at me, being a little shy. He wasn't shy at school, but
he was everywhere else, which seemed sort of strange. But I'd only
seen him out of school once before, at my house, so maybe he was just
shy around his dad, I don't know. They didn't seem really close
anyway, so that was probably it, I thought.

"So, uh...I guess you know my dad really likes you, huh?" Steve
said suddenly and it surprised me. I didn't figure he'd want to
talk about that. I guessed he was getting over his shyness.

"Yeah." I replied, feeling my heart jump just a little and I hoped
I wasn't going to blush.

"My mom likes you too." He said, which surprised me even more and
then I did blush.

"You think so?" I shrugged, trying to be cool. "I don't
know..."

"It was kinda her idea to invite you over." Steve told me, talking
soft, but not whispering or anything. "She said she wanted to meet
you."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. I guess it would make sense
though, I mean if she knew about the little 'I love Ann' wall in
her husband's garage. She'd probably want to see what all the fuss
was about and maybe see if I was some sort of competition or something.
I dunno, girls were still a mystery to me, really.

"I thought maybe it was your dad's idea." I giggled, trying to
stay relaxed.

"Well, yeah, maybe his too." Steve grinned. "Not like he was
gonna say no or anything." He turned on the sofa too, bringing his
legs up so we were facing each other. "Did you guys do it?"

"What?" I blinked at him.

"It's cool if you did. Him and Monica did it sometimes." Steve
shrugged. "It's cool."

That really weirded me out. I always liked the way Steve was sorta
direct when he talked. Like he just didn't have any fear sometimes,
but it wasn't always good either. Like maybe God had put that little
bit of humility inside us for a good reason, so we'd be a little
afraid of saying something embarrassing, or just plain stupid.

"She did?" I asked, not wanting to answer Steve's question and
thinking maybe talking about Monica would get us away from the subject
of me and Steve's dad. "Monica had sex with your dad?"

"Yeah, sometimes." Steve laughed. "Your face is pretty red."

"How come yours isn't?" I replied, touching my cheek
unconsciously and feeling my skin warm.

"I dunno, it's no big deal. Besides, my dad talks about you all the
time, so..." Steve shrugged and lifted a hand, like there it was.

"What if we did do it, you wouldn't be like...jealous or
something?" I asked, wondering where these weird conversations came
from and why they always involved me.

"Kinda, I guess." Steve finally did blush a little, which made me
feel better, like maybe this was almost sorta normal.

"I gotta get going." I decided. There was something wrong here,
with this whole house and I couldn't figure it out.

"You sure?" Steve frowned, pulling his beauty mark down with is
lips. It was cute. "I thought maybe um, we could do something."

If he was talking about sex, he was totally wrong. I wasn't gonna
have sex with Steve's dad and then with Steve like an hour later. I
didn't know exactly what that would make me, but it wouldn't make
me feel very good about myself, I was sure. Especially now that I knew
that Little Steve knew what me and his dad had done. I hadn't
admitted it out loud, but I might as well have, it must have been
pretty obvious to him. Maybe if he'd been innocent still, and we'd
talked about something else, I don't know, we might have fooled
around a little. I was in the mood for it, I knew, way down deep I was
still feeling Mr. Sawyer's penis inside me and it was keeping the
pilot light on. I just wasn't in the mood for Steve, that was the
problem, I wanted his dad again.

"Nah." I shook my head. "No wrestling tonight." I smiled,
trying to soften the disappointment in his eyes. "Besides, you
don't have the room in here."

We didn't really say anything else and I put on my boots and followed
Steve back downstairs. His mom was helping Carol with some sort of
project for school, cutting out pictures from old magazines and pasting
them on some poster board. The two really looked a lot alike sitting
there together, like they were sisters more than mother and daughter.

"Oh, there you two are." Mrs. Sawyer looked up at us. "Dan's
out in the garage, as usual." She gave me a little look of friendly
exasperation. "You can go on out, don't be shy." She was smiling
again and her eyes held mine for just a second before I had to look
away. "Steve, do have homework?"

I went back to the big garage, like I was supposed to, feeling my heart
beating faster, like I was going back to the scene of the crime or
something. I couldn't figure out Mrs. Sawyer at all and in truth I
wasn't sure I wanted to. She'd wanted to meet me, and now she had,
and I guessed she even liked me, although I couldn't figure out why.
If I was her I'd have kicked my little ass all the way down the
street. But she was a mom too, so maybe that made a difference? I had
no clue at all.

Steve's dad was at the far end of the garage. All the lights were
turned on now and it was a lot brighter inside. I walked past all my
pictures, not really wanting to look at them again, but I did take a
little peek and it made my cheeks flush. He was bent over the motor of
that Trans-Am he'd mentioned earlier, hood up with a drop light
hanging over it.

"Hi." He smiled at me, picking up a rag and wiping his hands.
"Feeling better?"

That question had so many meanings to me right then that it was
impossible to answer, so I didn't try.

"What are you doing?" I said instead, walking up to the car and
looking down at it. He'd taken some stuff out of it, but not much,
and the motor looked pretty rough, although it was hard to tell with
all the grease and dirt that had built up on it. The body looked good,
but the interior was beat.

"Well, I wanna try and rebuild this thing. I just got it a month ago,
haven't had much time though." He looked at me seriously. "What
do you think?"

"This is the 400 right?" I didn't need an answer, I knew it was.
"You wanna chop it, or just restore it?" I was walking around the
car and the body was looking better and better. No damage, just a
little rust, but not bad. Of course I wasn't underneath it either.

"I restored the Cuda so maybe modify this one." He was following me
around. "I'm not sure what I want yet."

"Chop it." I said, nodding to him. "Gank the motor, the tranny
too, get something beefier. Like a '73 455 maybe, bore it out some.
You got room for it." I bent over the side panel, pulling the drop
light with me so I could see the back. "Just have to do a little
cutting maybe for the mounts, but there's a lot of room. Wouldn't
change the lines at all and you'd have..."

I didn't finish my thought as I felt Mr. Sawyer's hands on my back
and his pelvis was rubbing my ass while I bent over.

"Mr. Sawyer, I don't think we..." I said slowly and started to
get up, but the hood was right over my head and he was pushing me down
again anyway.

"Shhh...It's okay, just like this..." He breathed and I felt him
reaching around to undo my jeans. "I want you so bad."

"But...your wife..." I sighed, feeling that little flame in my
tummy burst into life. "What if she catches us...?"

"She won't...don't worry, Ann...I just gotta do this one more
time...okay?" he hooked his thumbs into my boxers and pulled them
down to my knees along with my pants. "Just once more, baby..."

I wanted it too. I shouldn't have, I know, and I was trembling with
fear and excitement, wondering if Mrs. Sawyer wouldn't come out to
the garage this time, just to check on us. I almost thought I wanted
her to, but that couldn't be right, and I tried not to think about it
as I reached back to get that soggy bit of toilet paper out of the way,
dropping it to the floor. I wanted him to fuck me. No matter what I
thought or said, it was what I did that counted, and I was helping him
anyway I could.

"Put it in me...fuck my ass..." I whispered urgently, moving my
hips impatiently as Mr. Sawyer freed his cock.

"Yeah...I will, Ann...I'll fuck your ass..." He was already
panting and when I felt his cockhead against my anus I reached back,
guiding him blindly. He didn't need the help really, but I wanted it
right then as much as I'd ever wanted anything. It was like dinner
and all my doubts had never happened.

He shoved his cock into me much more easily this time, since I was
already greasy with his old sperm. I groaned and pushed myself back,
bracing my hands against the cold metal of the Pontiac. He got a lot
deeper too, the position was better, with my ass presented to him
perfectly. Mr. Sawyer grabbed my hips and just fucked me hard, like we
were in a race and I was fucking him back.

I reached down to rub my clit this time, not caring about being a boy
or a girl or anything. I just felt it hard and throbbing and I wanted
to get off quickly, to cum as many times as I could while Steve's dad
pumped my horny little ass.

"Am I your boy?" I whispered, "Am I still your little boy?" I
was bouncing against him, my whole body jolted every time his cock
would reach deep inside and our bodies slap together.

"Oh yeah..." Mr. Sawyer squeezed my ass, pulling my cheeks apart so
he could see his thick cock sliding in and out of me. "You're my
boy now...my good little fucking boy...ugh!...take my cock...ah damn
that's good..."

I rubbed my clit in tight little circles, like I'd learned to do,
making it hum with pleasure, like it was vibrating under my fingers and
the sensation carried through my sex and into my tummy. I was cumming
quickly, my knees going weak so I was just laying on the car with the
metal pressing almost painfully into my skin. I barely noticed it
though. My pussy was clenched and the sensation of having Mr.
Sawyer's cock pressing against my cunt, separated by just a thin wall
of flesh, really made it better. I moaned loudly, unable to help
myself, and the sound of our sex filled the garage, echoing off the
walls and cement floor.

Three more times I came after that first one, but they might as well
have been one long orgasm, because it seemed like they were never
stopping. They'd peak and I'd come down, just a little, and then
I'd peak again, riding sensations that stole every reasonable thought
from my little brain. I was hot and cold all over, my nipples burned
and itched and my juices were running hot and wet down my thighs. I
never wanted this to end and I wouldn't have cared who caught us
right then, so long as we didn't have to stop.

"I...I'm gonna cum...I'm close..." Mr. Sawyer breathed. "I
wanna cum on your face...come here...turn around..."

I barely knew what was happening as the man pulled his cock out of me
quickly and then pulled and pushed me off the car, turning me around,
and forcing me down to the floor. He was jerking off then, his cock
hovering over my upturned face as he fisted the shaft. I was breathing
hard, my right hand still between my thighs. I had my mouth open and so
were my eyes, staring at his penis, dark and swollen and wet with
precum and old sperm from my ass.

"Ohhhh..." Mr. Sawyer arched his back, aiming his cock at my face
as it began shooting rapidly, hot thick gobs of semen spurting from the
tip to land on my cheeks and nose and chin. It went in my mouth, some
of it, but most of it was all over my face. It got in my left eye,
which stung just a little, and in my hair and on my neck. He shot a lot
of it, and used his hand to milk more, squeezing and pulling his dick
until the last little bit just seemed to hang there as if on a string
before breaking away and falling on my forehead.

He pushed his dirty penis into my mouth then and I let him, sucking at
it eagerly. I washed Mr. Sawyer's cock with my tongue, tasting all
the different flavors of our sex and swallowing it down. He just
watched me, my pretty face with the boy's haircut, covered with thick
streams and blobs of his sperm, sucking his cock clean.

"Oh fuck this good...better...so much better..." He could barely
speak and I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't
matter.

I sucked his cock for a few minutes and it was still semi-hard when he
pulled it from my mouth with a wet sucking sound. I could have made him
hard again, I was pretty sure, but it was probably prudent to stop too.
I was breathing hard and smiling, feeling the adrenaline and endorphins
and whatever else was making me feel so good. I was always happy after
sex, mindlessly happy, although it went away all too quickly sometimes.

I wiped my face with a reasonably clean rag that Mr. Sawyer handed me.
I used the side mirror on the Trans-Am to get all of the sperm that was
clinging to me, but even then I missed some and he had to help me,
making me giggle a little. I'd never had a guy clean me up after sex
before. It was strange, but I liked it. I wondered if Mr. Sawyer did it
for his wife too.

It was after nine and Mr. Sawyer was giving me a ride home. I honestly
didn't know how I felt. I didn't love him, I didn't think, but I
liked him a lot. He was nice looking and he knew cars and I loved the
way he fucked me. But he was different too. His whole family was
different. And he was an adult, which isn't to say I felt bad about
that, I mean I'd had sex with a lot of adults. Just that he wasn't
like the other ones. He was married and I went to school with his kids.
It was like me having sex with Matt's dad or something, which I
totally couldn't imagine at all.

"Steve wants me to be his girlfriend." I said. We hadn't said
anything for the first 5 minutes.

"Do you like him?" Mr. Sawyer looked at me.

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I guess. I feel...weird though."

"Because of us?" Mr. Sawyer laughed. "That's okay, he'll get
over it."

"He told me about Monica." I told him, just to see what he'd say.
"He said uh, you had sex with her too."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat a little. "That was different
though. I really like you, Ann." He reached over to rub my leg. "I
like you a lot."

"I like you too." I decided and I settled back, enjoying the way
his hand moved against my thigh.

"I want to see you again." Mr. Sawyer glanced at me. "I want to
fuck you again."

I blushed a little when he said that, but he couldn't tell in the
darkness.

"Me too." I said softly and my heart was going again, the way it
always did and I wondered what it was that was making me so horny. The
guy wasn't that special, was he?

Maybe I was a nympho, I thought. I wasn't exactly sure what a
nymphomaniac was, but by all accounts it was pretty much like being a
slut. I'd had sex with three different people that day and two of
them had been father and son. The other one was my best friend and so I
probably didn't have any business having sex with him. Or Steve's
dad. I was a slut and probably a nympho, since it didn't seem like I
could control myself at all. I giggled a little, but only because I was
laughing at myself, like a crazy person might do. There was something
wrong with me, that was for sure.

"Are you okay?" Steve's dad gave my thigh a squeeze and I nodded.

"I think so." There wasn't anyway I could tell him what I was
thinking. In fact I wasn't sure I wanted to tell anyone, except maybe
Scott, but he'd warned me before about turning into a slut, so maybe
he'd be a little pissed. In fact I knew he'd be pissed, maybe Steve
too, since he seemed to think we could have sex all we wanted, me, him,
and Lisa, but probably he wouldn't be too keen on everyone else I'd
had sex with lately.

I tried to think of how many people that was, but I ran out of fingers
and we were pulling into my driveway anyhow.

"I'll see you again, right?" Mr. Sawyer moved his hand to my hip,
pulling me a little closer.

"I...yeah." I smiled, but I was lying to him. I wasn't sure at
all, even though I wanted to see him a lot.

"Okay." He kissed me, even though we were close to my house, and I
kissed him back. Our tongues moving together for a long minute before
he finally let me go and I could open the door and get out.

I stood there in the cool night, watching him as he made a circle
around our big wide open drive, give me a little wave, and then drive
off with that Cuda motor growling into the distance. I took a deep
breath and turned around.

"What was all that about?" Scott asked, giving me the scare of my
life, and all I could do was flush with embarrassment, wondering how
long he'd been watching us.

"God! Give me a coronary why don't'cha!" I giggled nervously
and tried to slip past him into the house, but my brother grabbed my
arm.

"I guess your little Steve grew up, huh?" Scott was unhappy and he
was hurting my arm, his fingers squeezing me hard.

"Ow! Let go. I didn't do anything, Scott." I was lying my little
butt off and he knew it. He'd seen us kissing, that was for sure.

But he let me go and didn't say anything as I walked away, pushing
open the kitchen door and heading for the bathroom. I needed a shower
bad and Scott needed to calm down a little before we could talk. He was
one of those guys who got quiet when he got mad. The quieter he got,
the madder he was. Since he'd just let me go without a word, that was
a bad sign, and I knew it wouldn't be long before he had me trying to
explain what was going on with my friend's dad.

But how could I explain something I didn't understand it myself?


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


The end of Chapter Twenty One
rache696@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading, and thanks for your patience and your feedback. It
means a lot to me. Best always, rache

To find the previous 20 chapters you may send me a check or money order
for $39.95
or go to:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm
your choice.

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