August Moone Sagas
Book 5
Absolution
Chapter 22
No Return No Deposit

The Journey

Isolation of Desolation
A quiet place of where echoes stir
Echoes and shadows 
Isolation of being Alone
In a crowded place 
A place that does not exist 

Isolation of Desolation 
Long dark linger shadows 
Stretching out over the scape
Echoes silence by the dawn
The stillness creeping 
Voices lingering

Isolation of Desolation 
Unique and complex and all its own
A stirring strange but familiar
Lost in the darkness and the light

Clouds swirl in mystic pools of ooze
Darkness gathers inward
Expanding outward tendrils
Raking across the scape
Crushing-devouring all
Desolation is isolation
No return-no deposit 
	“You look lost, brother.”
	There was nothing to say.  It was hot, damn hot.  Small white puffy clouds hung listlessly in the sullen sky, the heat could be seen shimmering in the glare of the day.
	“You might want to come in out of the heat.”
	Seemed like a good idea.  There was a strange buzzing in his ears, he felt a little faint and someplace cool would be welcome.
	It was a cave he saw.  Heat waves nearly masked it.  It was surrounded by brush, dry and otherwise.  Long exposed roots or trailing vines hung down nearly obscuring the entrance to the cave.  
	Inside it WAS cool.  Not terribly cool, not like air conditioned cool, but suitable.  There wasn’t a lot of room--that is to say the cave was not much of a cave--going into the hill at the foot of the mountain some twenty-five feet or so.  One could stand up in it, provided One was not more than five foot six inches tall!
	Inside the cave were dangling wind chimes.
	Not much else.
	A small campfire surrounded by rocks.
	Trinkets of Indian nature were strewn about, a pallet of reeds lay on the ground at the very back of the cave, Indian blankets of various types and sizes were about, too.
	Off to one side of the cave was a depression, it was small being five feet across.  Another depression was in the middle of it, being three feet across.  It was black.  It was like someone had painted the three foot depression with thick paint.
	“Sit.” spoke the Indian.  He wore a mixture of clothing suggesting nothing of any particular tribe.  Bears teeth (not claws) hung about his neck, bear’s ears hung from black strands from his ears.  Mixed black and gray hair hung down to the man’s waist.  He had a pot belly, stood just under six foot, and had skin as tan as hard leather.
	Small beady eyes, coal black.  He appeared friendly and jovial.
	There was a stench hanging in the still air of the cave.
	The Indian giggled and puffed on a long Indian pipe.
	After choking on a puff, he smiled and offered Forrest a puff.
	Forrest declined.
	“Suit yourself.” the Indian said.  He puffed some more and then, as if by magic--he pulled out of what seemed to be “thin air” a Chinese porcelain tea pot.  He poured into what also appeared suddenly appearing matching tea cups.  He nodded to his guest, “Here, good stuff, help you it will.”
	
	“Help?  I-I need no help.” replied a slightly (greatly) confused Forrest.
	“Oh, you need help, my friend, your journey is too long and perilous not to be without help.”
	Forrest stared at him.  “Journey?”
	“All who come here are going on a journey.”
	“Who’s come here?  I-I’m not going on any journey.”
	The Indian despite having thick graying hair appeared middle aged; he smiled and nodded, puffed on his pipe, and nodded some more.
	“Who are you?” Forrest finally asked.
	The giggling Indian didn’t answer but offered the pipe again, when Forrest refused, the tea was offered.  Forrest felt a headache coming on.  
	“What the hell is going on here?  Who are you?  Why am I here?  What is this JOURNEY you’re babbling on about?”
	“You have a short ways to go, and a long ways to get there.”
	Huh?
	“I am not really here.  Neither are you.”
	Oh, that helped.
	Forrest stared at him.  Enough was enough.  He got up to go.
	But then--where was that exit again?  
	“Going somewhere?” the Indian asked.
	Forrest turned around--it WAS an old Indian.  Very old.  There’s old and then there’s VERY OLD.  His skin was leathery, his hair white, his face long, his eyes quite dim.  He seemed to be mumbling.  There was still the pipe and the tea. 

	The wind chime tinkled in the absence of moving air.  The fire flickered but made no sounds.  Only the wind chime made any noise.
	“I am the Darkness that Walks in the Wind.” babbled the old Indian.
	That helped explain things a lot.
	“I’m-I’m--” he shook his head.  He had no idea who he was.
	He sighed.  The old Indian handed him the pipe.  It smelled awful.
	“Peyote?” he supposed.  The old Indian’s dim eyes suddenly gleamed, he smiled a toothless smile as he nodded clutching the pipe in his gums.
	“I’ll pass.” said Forrest.
	“You can not deny your journey.” said the old Indian.
	“What journey?”
	The old Indian despite being “old” suddenly flicked out his hand.  Flickering dust that sparkled fluttered towards the depression area.  Suddenly there was something of a gushering explosion of light.  The sparkle-dust matter took the form of flickering flames.  Blue, green, red, and yellow.  It reminded Forrest of one of those 60s psychedelic lava lamps.
	Then, from the middle there was an opening.
	The opening was a dark void, it grew larger and larger.  The sparkles flickered in a pulsing manner--the sounds of tom-toms pulsed in rhythm to the flickering sparklies.  
	In the dead center of the dark void a light began.  Like clay cracking in noonday sun, or tendrils stretching outward from the center, the dark void became larger and brighter.
	At one point Forrest had to shield his eyes to the point of closing them tightly as the light was just too intense.

The OtherSide 
	A wind swept landscape there was, some rocky dirt for a few yards and then waist high grass--for as far as the eye could see.  No trees, no rocks, no boulders.  Nada.  nothing to break the landscape whatsoever.
	There was the cave, much smaller and sticking up from the landscape like a sore thumb.  The air was cool--above the sky was a clear crystal blue with no clouds anywhere.
	No smells, no odors.
	No sounds, no chimes.
	He felt pretty good, but like having serious jet lag.  A dry mouth and a little buzzing incessantly droning in his eyes.  For no other reason than “just because” he climbed the rocky hill.  It wasn’t much of a hill, fifty feet.  
	Grass.  Lots and lots of grass.  Waist high, waving in the cool breeze--for as far as the eye could see.
	Back down to the cave.
	On the front entrance all along the edges were what could be described as “runes.”  faded etchings, some of symbols, some of faces depicting differing facial expressions.  None of which Forrest Finch understood in the least.
	Inside the cave it was mostly dark, like a shroud of darkness.  As he entered in, the darkness seemed to give way and there was “light.”  natural light.  Where it came from he had no idea, he no longer saw the “exit”.
	Forrest had always thought himself one who examined any given situation as it was.  Thing of it was, though:  he didn’t know what situation  was!  
	Inside the cave there were niches in the walls.  Some of the niches had nothing.  Some of the niches had trinkets, Indian-type trinkets (beads mostly).  One of the niches had small leather pouches.  Inside the pouches were colored grains of sand.
	In one of the niches was a skull.
	On first glance it was a glance over with little interest.
	On the second double-take glance--the skull was unlike any other.
	Forrest semi-nervously removed the skull from its niche.  It was pale white--extremely old and cracked.  The mandible jutted out further than most skulls, much further.  The eye sockets were much larger, too.  Then, curiously--what grabbed him the most:  covering the skull were small holes.
	Hmmmm

	It was also noted the depression.  It was not quite like the previous.  It was even smaller and there was only one depression, not two.  The ground around it was smooth.
	From his pocket he produced a lighter.  Though he didn’t smoke, a lighter always came in handy.  The light chased away the encroaching shadows--giving way to a more ominous situation.  All around him were shapes.  The shapes were in the walls, or OF the walls--he wasn’t sure.
	He guessed them to be shapes like were outside on the entrance, but the shapes inside the cave hadn’t deteriorated over time, they hadn’t been exposed to the elements and such.  There still was no clear understanding of what the fuck he was looking at though.  Some of the symbols were almost recognizable--the See No Evil, Speak No Evil, etc.  round face, large round eyes, with hands covering their mouths, eyes, or ears.  Other symbols were same-like, just different poses.  No bodies, just round heads expressing differing “emotions” or trying to convey some sort of speech.
	It was figured one could spend a LONG long time in the cave studying the symbols--and probably STILL not come up with the conveyance.  
	He took a seat.  There was the depression.  The niches in the walls, a kind of weird albeit strange black curtain phenomenon encircling the cave.  Finding a small stone he had to work out of the otherwise smooth surface of the cave flooring, he gave it a gentle toss.
	Wall.
	He changed trajectory and flicked another stone.
	Wall.
	Wall-wall-wall-wall-wall, …
	Opening.
	Slowly he scooted on his butt.  Then, on a dare to himself he stretched out his foot thru the black curtain of non-moving fog.  Nothing.  He scooted a little more and then a little more and then a little more.  There was a slight build up of panic as the blackness enveloped him.
	“I fear nothing!” he told himself.  Except Vinnie the Mooch, the SouthSide Mauler, and Tiny--former cohorts in organized crime.  He closed his eyes, sucked in his breath, tightened his asshole, and scooted some more.

	Nothing had changed.  He sort of did half expect it to.  But it was the same landscape--grass-grass-and more grass--as far as the eye could see.  The air was the same, the sky, everything.  This was not good.
	Back inside the cave.  He had come via the cave, surely he could go.  Surely.  Maybe.  He wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t sure of ANYTHING.  He was sure he was getting an aneurysm out of the deal.
	Back inside, all was the same, too.
	Fine.  He went back over the niches.  The trinkets were a little different; they were the same as before--just that they were different Indian trinkets than he had ever seen before.  Not typical of an Indian craft.  In facts, they looked more fitting in a sci-fi movie.
	One trinket was interesting, they all were, but; one he selected was small, no more than 2-inches by 1 ½-inches.  Gray metallic base with gold boarders.  It was triangle shaped save for the base which was curved inward.  An almost opaque gem color in the dead center.  It didn’t weigh much.  Forrest fumbled with it and rubbed the gem stone.
	There was a “click!” sound.  An electronic click.
	It sounded warbled and though he was highly curious, best leave it alone.  There were similar items, some smaller, larger, the base of the “triangle” pouching outward like a tear drop.
	He came to the leather pouches with the multi colored grains of sand.  Upon reflection--he seemed to have recalled the old Indian flinging his hand, casting out/throwing some sand.  
	He took a pinch and tossed it to the middle area of the depression.
	Nada.
	Must be a trick to it.
	He pinched more, tossed with a flick of the wrist.
	Ditto Nada.
	This was annoying.
	He sat a little frustrated.  There was naught to do but look at the symbols--the faces.  With nothing else to do he began studying them.  They were not all the same, that much he knew.  There seemed to be something going on “between” the faces, it wasn’t writing, but “pictures.”  drawings.
	Carved in stone that was subject to chipping was difficult at best.  Whoever (whatever) had done the carvings Forrest studied had really done a decent job.  But, studying the drawings with one’s neck crooked was a pain.
	Forrest began rewriting what he saw on the floor of the cave.
	He found a pattern.
	As time passed, he found repeated symbols.
	As more time passed, he seemed to have found what could be explained as a “story.”  more extensive study would have to be done to fully get the idea.  
	When his headache came to full circle, he quit trying to make sense of what he had been studying.  There was no sense to it.  What he gathered didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible.  Maybe it was, and maybe monkeys would fly out of his butt!	 Mostly it just wasn’t possible..
	Maybe it was, though.  Creatures from “outerspace.”  Creatures from another time and place.  Space travelers.  Not entirely unlikely.  Forrest himself didn’t 100 percent believe in the rhetoric that Man came from Monkeys, nor did he believe in the creation of Man from a puddle of goo.
	Created by an Almighty?  More unlikely.
	Indians of all types from all over the Earth claimed of Beings from Space, they (the Indians) drew on rocks depicting odd shaped “space creatures.”  The Space Beings had been adopted and/or integrated into the Indian cultures and beliefs.  With most of those Indian cultures gone due to wars, disease, or pooped on by the general public and chastised, the belief in superior beings from beyond Earth fell away to silence.
	With a heavy sigh he stared at the depression.  It was a little unlike the one at the old Indian’s cave.  He recalled there were rocks surrounding the outer depression area inset.  There were none in his.  There, too, was no “black” spot on the floor of the depression.  Was that significant?
	Probably.
	He went back outside again.  Though he knew there had been a passage of ‘time’, all seemed about the same outside the cave.  Checking his watch he found that it had stopped.
	Hmmmm
	“Time” did not resume once back inside the cave, either.
	Tapping his fingers together he thought.
	And thought.
	And thought some more.
	Not easy with a pounding headache.
	There had to be a way out.  A way BACK from whence he came.
	He began to get a little dingy, philosophy reared its head--maybe his being was a state of mind.  Maybe he was actually still with the Old Indian, or the other one, in the cave!
	This banter went on and on until a cold draft seethed thru him.
	He found in some of the niches twigs, tender, and what he determined were “pellets”--wood pellets for fireplaces.  The depression area seemed the most likely place.  Once a good little fire was going, he tossed a pinch of the multicolored sand from the pouches.

	It was strange that there were no noises or sounds of any kind from the flickering flames.  Multicolored flames flickered high, creating a bulbous center that like before in the old Indian’s cave an opening.
	He waited.
	And waited.
	And waited some more.
	The flickering multicolored flames flickered again, incessantly almost.  No sounds.  No noise of any kind or sort.  Too eerie.  Way too eerie.  He waited and waited--then began to grow impatient.
	He stood and slowly came to the flickering silent flames.  They mostly were metallic green, sparkly kind.  There was no heat, either.  The very center was oval shaped and had no color scheme, but if a color needed to be applied, it was gray.
	What had he done before?
	He thought of a stone to flick into the oval.  A test.	
	Then, “Fuck it!” he said and reached out his hand…

	A brilliant bright light there was, brilliant.  Not white but green.  It seemed to have pierced into his body--it was near blinding.  Near.  Not total.  But still, he seemed confused.  The light was too bright, for seeing normally.  But, in his mind he saw almost clearly.
	Almost clearly a figure appeared.
	There was no defining the figure.  It was just that.  A “figure”.  There was no putting measurements to the figure, size, or sex.  For all Forrest finch knew, it may have been a fence post!
	All around was a dark green flashing/pulsing greenish light.
	In the center was the figure.
	Behind it a bursting plethora of incredible white light.
	There was a feeling of pressure.  Increasing.  Though there was still no sounds, there was something of a vibration.  And an odor!  At first it smelled of something rotting.  Then, stale cigarettes.  Then something more familiar--peyote!
	Forrest didn’t know if he was moving or not, he thought he was.  He couldn’t tell if he was closer to the figure to not, either.  The pressure was increasing.  The pulsing, the vibrations seemed to grow in some intensity.  The flashing/pulsing of lights schemes, too, increased in tempo.
	Was he getting closer, or was the “figure” just getting bigger?
	Suddenly, he heard a tinkling.
	A wind chime!
	The scent of peyote increased in strength.  He heard what could only be described as an Indian chant.  For rain, war, a curse on the White Man, whatever.  It was a chant.
	Then, Forrest thought he saw a flash.  Something grabbing his attention.  It wasn’t determinant whether it was “right” or “left”, he couldn’t rightly tell.  
	A planetoid.  Not like earth, it was roundish, but the continents were all wrong.  Lots of cloud cover, but the continents he could see were large masses and did not resemble any of Earth’s.
	There were more than one moon, too.
	A shimmering there was, something akin to fantastic explosions.
	Had the planet blown up?
	Shadows there were, what he assumed were spaceships.
	Then, creatures.  Nothing was very clear, but human-like creatures but not human.  More explosions and then a jumble of figures he could not make certain of.
	Other “scenes” came to be.  Another planetoid.  Was that Earth?
	Landscapes of vastness; forests, rivers, deserts, and grasslands.
	There was some sort of darkness, too--an evil darkness Forrest perceived.  It lay just beyond a great river and a vast dense forest and at the base of a smoldering mountain.
	The “scenes” suddenly blended together like a painter’s fresh painting on a hot Summer’s day.  Forrest felt ill, he felt as if he was tilting to one side.  The pulsing-thumping returned, almost deafening.  The “room” was swirling--faster and faster.  His eyes locked onto the lone figure.  He made for it, stumbling a little and feeling as if he was drunk.
	The lone figure grew much bigger and then “opened.”
	A void, a huge black emptiness.
	Forrest at first tried to backtrack.  He felt ill and as if he were about to lose control of his bowels.  The scent of peyote sickened him more and then a hand reached in thru the blackness and grabbed him.

*

	The Campbell family was good an’ all, real good.  But he had to scoot home, throw up, and take a nap.  A long nap.  Skyler checked the Contraptions, he had some newer ideas about calming down the narly side effects.  Jake napped for hours.
	He awoke with a bitch of a headache.  He felt awful.  A nice COLD bath might help.  He hoped.  Always had before.  He tried it.  Didn’t help.  It would be hours more before the “effects” wore off.  No one was home.  He didn’t worry where anyone was--everyone sort of had their own thing to do and did it without telling anyone else.
	Skyler returned just as darkness enveloped the land.  He needed a serious breather--it was fucking hot out!  A beer and a dip in a cold bath helped.  Jake came into the bathroom to “visit” Skyler, to chat about the Contraptions, Breezy, the kids, the Dungeonites, Cole, and Forrest.
	Skyler made way for Jake and Jake accepted, sliding into the bath and the two--well, frolicked.  They bathed one another and got off on it.  They soon were splashing water onto the bathroom floor and soon entered into sodomizing one another.
	Another beer and another hour later the two frolicked on the living room floor.  They began going over the Campbell family.  They smiled and after polishing off another beer, they dressed and slipped out of the house…

Ah Inspiring
	Skyler wished he could have been present when Duane stuffed little Ruthie.  It was discovered that afterwards, Duane observed Simon boning Lucy.  “Whatever!” was his response.  Both boys took turns with Lucy as well as entering into her at the same time--the double bang.
	The mother of the house was STILL not home, her father had passed away and it was kinda gloomy about both households--the Campbell house and the house where Annie grew up.
	Jake and Skyler didn’t see much promise in anything narly to happen.
	But they were wrong.
	In the beginning it was kinda tame, everyone was clothed.  Ruthie, Simon, and Lucy played a board game in the family room.  They were quiet and the mood setting was dimmed by the passing of the grandfather.  Snooping around the boys found the other two Campbell children, upstairs “getting it on.”
	Matt and Mary were on the bed, they were at first on their sides with Matt behind Mary, pounding her asshole.  Mary seriously frigged herself and endured being reamed.  Matt gave his all--and then some.  He rolled onto his back and just about instantly sought sleep.
	He was not denied.	
	Goo oozed out of Mary’s corn hole.  She fingered it and then rolled onto back.  She was unaware of her father’s presence at the door.  Her fingering action slowed and soon she, too, was asleep.
	Eric leaned against the wall just outside the door--his robe was undone, nothing on underneath.  His cock stood out and he was working it, slowly.  Not long, though, he didn’t bring himself to ejaculation.  He stopped, caressed his balls and peeked in on the two slumbering lovers.
	If their mother ever found out!
	Eric gently closed the door and made for his own room.

	The hour was late, Jake and Skyler were ready to amscray, when…
	The door to Eric’s bedroom slowly opened.  Eric was not asleep.  The death of his wife’s dad had him concerned.  Then of course there was all the hanky-panky going on in the house whilst she was away…
	At the door stood a figure.
	A demure young figure.  She, too, wore a robe.  Kinda pinkish, terrycloth, and not closed.  A nite light and natural light from outside provided just enough illumination in the room to give Eric (and Skyler/Jake) the ability to tell that it was none other than the lovely Lucy.
	Eric sat up in bed.  “Lucy?” he called.
	“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to disturb you.” the girl said somewhat timidly.  She hadn’t advanced too far into the room, remaining at the threshold of the door.
	“You’re fine.” he told her.  He patted the bed and Lucy slowly advanced.
	Eric lay atop his bed, his blue majestic robe closed, but not tied.  His cock had died down, but that would change.
	It could just be seen that Lucy was nude under her robe.
	That alone prompted Eric’s cock to become interested.
	Lucy came to the bed, faced her father as she sat on the edge.
	“Something on your mind, Sweetheart?” he asked in a fatherly manner.
	She shook her head, but it was a lie.  There WAS something on her mind--but she wasn’t telling.  She was SOOOOOOOO pretty, a face of an angel, her smile was incredible, her facial complexion, her facial appearance; her light brown hair gently enveloped her angelic face.  She at times seemed so naïve, so fresh and innocent.
	Eric reached out for his daughter, she obliged him with coming up against him.  He brushed his fingers thru her silky soft hair.  She twiddled with the belt of her robe.  Surely he had seen the fact that she was NAKED under the robe--the robe was not even closed!
	Could it be the lack of sufficient light?
	It could be the old man was preoccupied.
	This was bad timing.
	“Anything you want to talk about?” Eric asked out of mild concern.
	Lucy merely shook her head, No.   She remained nuzzled against him.  Eric continued running his hands through her hair.  His eyes closed and Lucy fell still, too.  Skyler looked to Jake.  “I think we should go.” he whispered.
	Jake nodded.
	Someone farted.

	Lucy gushed at the offense.  It wasn’t clear as to who had ripped the butt blast.  “Good dinner.” spoke Eric.  Lucy giggled and bowed her head, it still wasn’t clear who had done it, though.  
	Lucy stretched, yawned, and another butt blast was ripped.
	Lucy shook her head, Jake saw that Eric had “bounced” as the butt blast was sounded, it may have been him.
	“It’s a natural body experience, Luce.” Eric said.  Lucy said nothing.
	All was quiet and still in the room, the house.  Lucy slowly-slowly moved to become on top of her dad.  Her legs slipped over his waist and she once more snuggled.  
	Eric ran his hands lightly up and down the girl’s backside--and when at her butt area discovered there were no panties.  There was nothing there!  Just skin.
	He rubbed the darling pert little ass--smoothing his hand all over then lightly squeezing the cheeks.  Lucy moved a little, snaking a hand down between herself.
	Eric was sweating, gulping for air, and staring up to the ceiling.
	Lucy was grabbing pole.
	She raised herself up and then slid down, sliding down on her daddy’s dong!  Eric moaned and groaned and firstly placed his hands onto his daughter’s hips--causing her to pause.
	Lucy looked to her daddy, her face was at first solemn and near blank, stoic.  But then, she smiled.  A smile that was incredibly intoxicating and then some.  “It’s okay, Dad.” she said.  His manly manhood lay up against her butt cheeks, it pulsed and wanted IN her.
	Eric didn’t know what to say--or do.  He knew (as a dad) what he SHOULD say and do, but…
	Lucy maneuvered herself again, repositioning herself whereas she could slid back down on his daddy cock.  
	“We’re all doing it, Dad.” Lucy explained.
	“All?” he said back.  He already knew and assumed ALL his children were sexually active with one another.  He wondered about Matt and Ruthie…
	“I know about you and Mary.  Mary says you’re good, and--and I just want to find out for myself.  I’ve always wanted to.”
	Eric was stunned.  The words he heard filled him but then confused him.  His hands caressed the girl’s ass, his cock--his cock was in her!  He couldn’t believe it!  He looked to her in amazement--she was pumping, her hips were rising up and down!
And the feeling!  The sensation in his cock, his balls, his body as a whole was--was--was--marvelous!  Miraculous!  Incredible!  It was a sinsational sinsation!
Lucy pussy was tight, despite her brothers (and Duane) pounding her.  Lovingly her cunt wrapped snuggly about Eric’s pole and tantalized him like no other pussy could.  The head of his cock to the base were in such euphoria as never before.
	Soon he himself began to fuck, to pump back.  Lucy gripped him and they began to increase their momentum.  Luckily the bed did not squeak.  Eric spread his legs out some and soon rolled his daughter over to give her a good and proper fucking.	

Cum Morning…
	Cum the new morning, the boys awoke early.  Thru the night there had been activity; Mary and Matt, Simon and Ruthie, Lucy and Eric, Sky and Jake.  Matt, too, had gotten with Simon and Ruthie; after his thrill with Mary he checked on Simon and Ruthie who were naked in their room and just goofing around.  The elder sibling goofed with them, too--albeit sexually.
	While Ruthie sucked off on Simon’s schlong, Matt’s schlong delved into the young girl’s ass.  Hands on her hips he rocked into her backend.  All three enjoyed hours of sexual frolic.  They bathed together and Simon got boned in the butt, too!
	Around the middle of the morning (or 3 AM) Ruthie got a case of the hungries.  She and Matt traipsed downstairs to satisfy their mid morning hunger.  Simon traipsed into Mary’s room…
	Jake and Skyler took time out in the very comfy sofa in the family room.  They slept (some) and pleased one another (some.)  it was just sex.  Neither boy really considered themselves as “gay.”  Jake did a little more than Skyler, he actually preferred boy holes over girls.  But, he liked only YOUNG boy holes.  So in that he deduced that he was a pervert and not really gay.
	In the morning, Skyler and Jake were awakened by Eric traipsing down the stairs.  The boys were still sleepy as well as amorous.  They had pleased one another for hours, keeping the other from cumming until ready.  It was just sex--pure and simple.
	In the kitchen, Eric rummaged around preparing yet another breakfast.  Simon was usually the first down, but not this morning--sister Ruthie made the early morning trek.  It was noticed even thru sleepy eyes, Ruthie wore a thin-short nightie with no undies.
	Hmmmm
	Worthy of a looksee…
	Daddy Eric made the notice, too.  He stared as the young girl flipped about the kitchen.  He blinked his eyes and stared.  “Uh, Ruthie--” he said.  Ruthie paused in her kitchen rambling to look up to her handsome daddy.
	“Yes?” she asked.
	The telephone interrupted them, it was Eric’s wife, Annie.  A long convo ensued.  The various other Campbell children filed down.  Jake and Skyler didn’t feel anything else pertinent was going to happen.  They made themselves scarce.

*

	Penny, Allen, Margo.  
	Shaun, Kim, Bryce.
	Jill, Claudia, Lisa.
	Lonnie, Terry, Katey, Ellen.
	Xu, Ricky, Bonnie, Megan.
	And lastly, Tamara and Shannon.
	Tamara and Shannon Jake and Skyler had already fucked.
	The others the boys WANTED to fuck.
	This was okay by Cole, the Dungeon Master of the Collected Ones, with the stipulation that Jake and Skyler when fooling with the Collection, set up and use the video capturing program.  The boys had to use the video equipment in order to bang to their delights.
	The boys shrugged.  What did they care…

	Penny, Allen, Margo.  Lovely kiddos.  Lovely.  Especially naked.  All three had been traumatized greatly by their ordeal.  Allen had been forced to have sex with both girls, his best friends.  The girls, in turn, had been forced to 69 one another--for Allen’s pleasure and Cole’s amusement.
	Penny, the dark curly haired girl was the strongest of the three.  She helped soothe the others when the horrible commands of sexual depravity came to be.  She understood, even at her tender age of ten, that complying with the Dungeon Master’s wishes was far better than not.  Pissing the DM off would (and did) garner harsh ass whoopings.
	The entire “collection” was unable to make good any escape due to the DM’s wrist watch device, it was a blinding light device that pierced into the noggin of the Dungeonite.  It was brief, but long enough to allow the Dungeon Master to One, abscond away with the Victim; Two, implant brief messages.
	The only message Cole could find that was appropriate--Obey.
	That only worked so-so.  Brute brutal force was the actual power over the Collection.  The other message, “Attempt no escape.”  that one seemed to hold the Collection and worked well.
	Jake favored Allen, the boy of the trio-friends.  He was a sweet youngster, sandy blond hair, blue eyes, usually a jolly inquisitive boy, about average size for youngster’s his age.
	Skyler favored Margo.  She was (or had been) a little prissy; she came from good stock, a fine family, well off.  She had been educated in a private school in the City, before the City went to hell and in a hand basket.  Her parents upped and moved to the Country and the town of Town and Margo entered into public schooling.  It was there she encountered her two new best friends--Penny “Punky” and Allen.
	Allen had “made the rounds” other than Penny and Margo.  There were as many as seven girls in the Dungeon.  Two more including Tamara and Shannon.
	Allen wasn’t the only boy; there, too, was Shaun, Kim, Bryce, Lonnie, Terry, Xu, and Ricky.  All the boys, from ten years to four years, banged, humped, rubbed, pumped, grinded on the girls.  With each “incident”, it was filmed, video taped, digitally recorded in some fashion or another.
	Jake watched Skyler, the boy had no morals.  Jake didn’t either, but…
	Skyler had a penchant for the young.  He liked them of all ages, up into their mid teens.  How young was too young?  Unknown.  The youngest Cole had were a pair of three year olds!  What could be done with three year olds!  Not much really.  But to have them naked and running amok with OTHER naked bodies, that was enough.  Other really young Captives humped and grinded on them, and the really young did humping themselves.
	Forrest’s group (from the restaurant) had been included, being inner mixed with Cole’s kids.  But afterwards, they were returned to Breezy’s place (to mix in with Breezy’s kids!)  
	Jake took care of Allen; boning the young boy in the ass while the boy slurped on Skyler’s cock.  The rest of the Dungeonites watched.  It was no longer “embarrassing” or horrifying to see a friend or fellow Dungeonite forced into such performances--they were getting used to the hellish deeds and merely awaited their turn.
	Even Margo who had in the beginning been the most difficult to deal with and force into performing horrendous sex acts with her two friends, finally was complacent.  They were broken.
	The young ones and the really young didn’t really need so much “fixing” as they were fairly compliant and easier to force into the horrendous sex acts dictated by the DM.
	The boys fooled around and around and around, getting their jollies to the max--young Allen had to not only service (suck) Jake and Skyler, but stuff his young ten year old prong into Jake’s backdoor.  Margo and Penny were forced to lick Jake’s dirt chute after Allen had stuffed it.  He was a cummer, but not often.
	Chinese boy Kim Wo-Wang was a nice little fart.  Jake liked him.  A lot.  Dark hair, dark eyes, round face, hair that covered his head, an innocence about him, and a nice little eight year old cock.  The boy had been fucked in the ass by Cole, as well as all the boys (who could get wood) in the group with him.
	Jake, too, entered the boy, but more on a loving manner than a degenerate force.  He loved on the boy’s wares and had one of the girls he had been “captured” with sit on his face.  It was all being filmed and added to the ambience of the video.  
	Skyler suggested to Cole later on that though viewing the Dungeonites naked was a neat thing--clad in their underwear was better.  To see the kids having to take their clothes off, one piece at a time, to pose and so on was just as enticing as having them prance about nude.  Cole agreed and appreciated the input.
	Another China boy was four years old, Xu.  (pronounced Zoo)  He was likeable, friendly, and had an average schlong of a four year old.  He spoke fluent Chinese and some Korean.  His mother was Korean, father Chinese.  He spoke English, too.  At a mere four years old, though--not much sexually could be rendered.  But, he was loved on by Cole just the same.  Skyler and Jake loved on him, too--that is to say they rested their engorged cocks on the boy; laying them on his tiny hairless ball sac, humping his ass cheeks, poking his asshole, and/or stuffing his mouth.
	The boy wrapped his fingers about the stiff prongs of the older ones, licking the cum that spilled from the piss slit and sucking.  Standing over a sewer grate he was showered with a urine spray.  All the Captives of the Dungeon had to endure being urinated on--not just from the Dungeon Master and his Assistants--but from each other.  Which was much worse.
	And it soon came to pass a Ritual was put into effect.
	The day in the Dungeon began with Wake Up at 7 AM.
	Bathroom time between 7 and 7:30.
	7:30 to 8:30 Breakfast
	8:30 to 10:00 First Sex Acts
	10:00 to 12:00  Second Sex Acts
	12:00 to 1:00 (PM)  Third Sex Acts
	1:00 to 3:00  Fourth Sex Acts
	3:00 to 5:00  Fifth Sex Acts
	5:00 to 6:00  Dinner hour
	6:00 to 7:00  Bath Time
	7:00 to 9:00  Sixth Sex Acts
	9:00 to 11:00  Seventh Sex Acts & Bed

	There was one bathroom, communal.  It had two toilets, two sinks, and four spigots for showering.  There was a microwave and snacks of several kinds were supplied, along with sodas & water.  Cole wasn’t a great cook and usually got fast food for his group.  There was usually a turn-over of Dungeonites; Cole taking them out into the deep desert and leaving them there.  If they made it back to civilization, fine.  If not--oh well.
	The various Sex Acts were narrowed down to whereas the girls sucked off on the boys (Sex Acts 1).  Followed by the boys licking the girls (Sex Acts 2).  Both usually and generally led to Basic Sex--fucking.  When the boys got hard enough dongs, they fucked.
	Sodomy came along in the Third Sex Act.  When the boys had buggered all the girls--the boys then buggered each other.  Those boys who had immature dongs not stiff enough to stuff a hole, did the best they could and pretended to be butt fucking another.
	Water Sports was the next Act, SA-4.  The boys whizzed on the girls and the girls squatted onto the boys and whizzed.  Usually it was full facial peeing with every other day urinating on the genitals was initiated.
	Girl on Girl and Boy on Boy was the Fourth Installment.
	Another round of plain basic fucking was the 5th.
	The Sixth Act was rim jobbing.  By far the most despicable Act of all.  No one cared for licking someone else’s asshole.
	Spanking, masturbating one another and themselves was the final Act.

*

Tripping the Rift
	A red tailed hawk screeched in the hot listlessly afternoon sky.  Nothing else moved.  The hawk soared on an updraft, spread out its wings and made large circles before lightly landing on a stretched out limb of a leaning dead tree.
	“Have a good trip, brother?”
	‘Fuck you!’ then, ’Fuck you and anybody who LOOKS like you!’
	Then, “What the hell happened?”
	The Indian (the first one he had encountered) giggled and puffed on his peyote pipe, “What did you see?”
	Forrest searched his mind.  He really wasn’t sure.
	“A cave.”  then, “Outside there was nothing but grass.”
	The Indian nodded, puffed, and closed his eyes.
	Forrest wanted to slug him.
	The Indian offered him a puff on the pipe.  Forrest again refused.
	‘Maybe, though,’ he thought to himself, ’my tripping would be better WITH it!’
	“In this cave,” spoke the Indian, “what was in it?”
	Forrest thought.  For a moment he couldn’t recall.  Then he did.
	“Cubbyholes, nooks--”
	“Anything IN them?” interrupted the Indian.
	“Yeah, trinkets mostly.  Mostly.”
	“Mostly?”
	Forrest licked his lips, blinked his eyes.  The heat of the day was getting to him.  This was all a dream.  A bad fucked up dream.  He felt a little ill and wanted--wanted something.  He couldn’t think.  He squeezed his eyes shut hard.  The stench of the peyote kept him riveted to the cave floor.  Just outside he could see the red tailed hawk still sitting on the limb.
	“There was this skull.” Forrest supplied.
	The Indian nodded.  He offered the pipe again, Forrest refused again.  He offered a cup of tea.  Forrest accepted.  It was hot tea, but it was liquid just the same.
	The first sip was foul and near putrid.
	He looked to the middle aged Indian, “Peyote?” he surmised.
	The Indian nodded his head grinning.  Forrest shook his head and spat out the foulness.
	“You found one of the Ancients.” 
	“What?”
	“One of the Ancients, the First Ones.”
	“I-I don’t follow.”
	“Long before Man, your kind and mine, long before the Beasts, there were others.”
	“Others?” then, “What others?”
	“The First Ones, the Ones who were here before all others.”
	Oh, well, that made sense.  Glad you cleared that up!
	
	After a moment or two; “These First Ones, the Ancients--what happened to them?”
	“I do not know for sure,” spoke the Indian, “many of them simply transgressed onward.”
	“Onward?  Onward to where?”
	“It’s a secret.”
	Forrest glared at him.
	‘You cant give part of a secret up and then not spill the rest!’
	“They were disturbed by the Others.”
	‘Your just full of useless information, aren’t you?’
	“What Others?”
	“Aliens!” smiled the elusive answering Indian.
	‘That’s it!  I’m outta here!’  Forrest shook his head and got up to leave.  He found himself a little light headed and reached out for the wall to steady himself.
	“Perhaps you would rather have a beer?”
	Forrest stared at the goofy peyote smoking man.
	Peyote Man merely smiled, puffed on his pipe and reached into an ice chest Forrest hadn’t seen before.  He was tossed an ice cold can of name brand beer.
	“Aliens, huh?” Forrest said squatting back down.
	Peyote Man nodded, “Yes, sir, Aliens, as you would call them.”
	“What did the Ancients call them?”
	“I do not know.”
	“What did the Aliens call themselves?” more to the point.
	“Ah!” smiled Indian, whose name was actually, Johnny Dancing Cloud, a Navajo American Indian.  He smiled, eyes twinkled, he stopped “toking” on his pipe long enough to spill some fantastic story of creatures called “catkins.”
	“They came from the skies,” he said, “from beyond the realm of this universe.”
	“You mean--outer space?”  well, duh, they were “aliens”!
	“Exactly!”
	Forrest slugged down the brew and Johnny Dancing Cloud tossed him another.  He continued with his tale explaining that the “catkins” were of a society of “sections.”  Each section had a differing element for their existence.
	“Like a “caste” system?”
	Johnny Dancing Cloud didn’t know what “caste” meant, he shrugged and continued.
	“The Warrior Element was the strongest, the most members.  Then the Religious Element and then the Workers.”  naturally.
	The all got along just fine and lived on a large planet called, Katonia.
	They had a God they called All Mother.  Only the Warrior Element did not so much as believe in All Mother, the creator of the catkin race.  There were at times rifts and tiffs between the two upper elements.
	For thousands of years they lived in peace.  They were vegetarians for the most part.  They lived peacefully among themselves and with their neighbors who were also of various “animal” creations.
	Then, as their dominance in space came to be they got the arousal of a dreaded enemy:  dogkins.  The dogkin race were ALL warriors and hailed from a neighboring body of space called--what else, Dogkonia.
	Years and years of bickering between the two natural enemies brought strife among the catkins and their home world.  The strife eventually caused significant complications within the Religious Element.  So much so that a faction of that Element split--and left their beloved home to seek out another.
	And they found it.  Earth!
	But, they were being pursued by a tyrannical dogkin armada, bent on enslaving the entire race of catkins--including those who had differences and were seeking out a new place to live.
	Across the vast galaxies the fleeing catkins came.  When they finally had gone as far as they could they found a small adequate planet; it had bodies of water, vast landscapes, moderate temperate zones.  It was near perfect.  But then again…
	The wisest of the catkins saw that the planet had a destiny and they should not interfere.  So others of that Element created a “new” planet.  A parallel.  Within the new planet they created multiple universes--zones.  Each “zone” was a separate universe.  It was like a maze; it was hoped that it would be so frustrating to their Pursuers that they would eventually leave.
	“Did they?”
	“I suppose.”
	Forrest closed his eyes.  He hated stories like this.  He knew most of it, or ALL of it, was pure clean bullshit.  It was impossible.  Maybe.  He shook his head.
	“You don’t believe?” asked Cloud Dancing.
	“No, I don’t.”
	“You will.”
	“What?”  the Old Indian was suddenly there, he seemed older than before.  Forrest took a quick glance to the depression--once more it was aflame with green dancing sparkles.
	“Oh no, not this time!”  Forrest fled out of the cave.

A Point of View
	It WAS hot.  Damn hot.  A headache was coming on and he was a little hungry.  The trail mix in his fanny pack sucked.  He needed (required) real food.  
	He saw the red tailed hawk.  It was the biggest he had ever seen!
	The others stopped, too.  Heather with her digi-cam quickly took a shot of the hawk.  Austin stood just behind and to the side, friend Brock stood close to Heather, glancing at her surreptitiously whereas he could peek into open short sleeved shirt.  Austin had already done so earlier on, seeing the girl’s tan skin down to her breasts.  She wore a nice basic white bra and just the thought gave Austin a woody.
	The hawk flew off of the tree and sailed in circles going up to the jutting ridge of the rustic hill the four kids were hiking on.  They were on the bland side of a small 500 foot rustic hill.  Sparse tree and other types of vegetation.  The trail was precarious in places but otherwise okay to traverse.
	“I’d like to get a better shot.” said Heather.
	“He’s went way up there.” said Brock.
	The girl struck off.  Her three companions looked to one another, the boys smiled to one another and then they all began following.

	It was youngest member of the group, twelve year old Alice who paused more often than the others.  She would be thirteen in a few short months.  Not too keen on the outdoorsy activity.  She wasn’t a complainer, though, not out loud anyways.  She drank her water allotment and fanned herself with her spray bottle/fan.  
	Brock the oldest member of the group being nearly fifteen in three months, kept pace with nature lover, Heather.
	The others lagged behind.  The day was in the middle of the afternoon, it was hot (damn hot) but tolerable.  Sort of.  The hawk had disappeared but was thought to have landed somewhere at the top of the five hundred foot hill.
	Austin’s eyes rested on Heather’s butt.  She had a nice butt.  Really nice.  Tight, it bounced just right and was very tantalizing.  He had never heard her “fart” but imagined her doing so.
	Alice finally complained.
	“It’s getting late, you guys.”
	“It’s not that far.” returned Heather.  She, too, had paused to down some of her water allotment.  She redone her long pony tail, putting it up then pushing it thru the opening in the back of her ball cap.  She made a slight sly adjustment to her bra and then continued onward up the steepish narrow trail.
	“You want to go back to the tree line?” Austin offered.
	“No.” Alice replied a little put off.  She adjusted her sun straw hat and somewhat in a huff made way passed the paused boys.  Austin and Brock looked to one another, grinned, then followed.

	At least there was a slight cooling breeze as they made their way along.  Austin had to pee.  There was no place in which to hang “it” out and do so, though; not without the others seeing him.  Some big ass boulders and such were along the way and he consider quickly ducking behind one and relieving himself.
	He wished one of the girls would have to “go”,  he’d like to see that.
	The hawk suddenly was taking flight again, small circles and then catching a warm up current larger circles until it was way high.  Heather captured it in her digi-cam.  Austin coming up behind her marveled at the girl’s form; a tight body, trim and gorgeous.  Austin couldn’t wait until she was a couple years older!
	Heather was pretty well developed for thirteen.  She would be fourteen in six months.  Lovely sandy blond hair, a great body shape, so friendly and outgoing.  He could see her bra and when she wasn’t looking or aware, both he and Brock were sneaking looks inside her blouse.
	It wasn’t to say that Alice wasn’t as good, she was.  But she was a whiner, she usually held her complaining to herself but whined just the same.  She was a friend of the group and they all did things together.  Alice usually just went along with what the others would do.
	Alice Volich really wasn’t a bad dish, blond curly hair, sometimes a little prissy.  Sometimes she was almost snobbish.  But she was understood by her three friends--her father and mother had been well-to-do in the Big City.  
	Then, something happened and they were no longer well-to-do.  They tried to continue keeping up their appearances, but everyone knew they were lower middle class and even lower than that.	It was hard on Alice who had at one time “everything.”  Thankfully, though, her three new desert dwelling friends didn’t bring it to attention or rub her nose in it.
	In between the breezes there were the heat waves.
	Heather slipped on some loose rock.  Brock was right there to grab her, his hand grabbing at her butt--but quickly going to her hips to keep her steady.
	“All I need to do up here is break my friggin’ leg!” she chortled.
	Austin envied Brock.  Heather seemed to favor Brock over him.  He stared at the girl as she continued her trek up the narrow path, he could see her panty lines…

	The trail ended.  It just sort of “faded” as the apex of the great hill was reached.  Huge boulders all about, a reddish kind of dirt, crumbly rocks and hard baked earth.
	“Why would any bird want to be up here?” bitched Austin.
	“Look out there, that’s why.” Heather told him.
	A great vastness of desert-scape there was expanding in almost all directions.  There was Gold Mountain Mesa, Mystery Mountain, some plateau of this kind and some canyon of that.  None of which really impressed young Austin all that much.  He’d seen Victoria Falls in Africa, the King’s Highway in Egypt, Mt. Kiliamanjaro in Africa, ice flows in the Arctic.  A desert was a desert was a desert.  Nothing spectacular about that.
	But then again, Heather seemed to like it.
	“Cool.” he said.
	“It is, isn’t it.” she stated.  She was a nature lover.  Oh well--she was cute.  He tried to look as if though he were truly captivated by the expansive desert.  He wasn’t too particular impressed.  He’d rather whip his schlong out and pee on it.  Speaking of which…
	“How long do you think it will take us to get back down?” inquired a breathless Alice.
	“I dunno.” shrugged Austin, he wasn’t too concerned.  He’d been in trouble before--wouldn’t be the first time--or the last.
	“Half as much time as it took us to get up.” Brock offered.  “It’s all down hill.”
	Alice looked down the long windy trail to the small tree line.
	Austin looked out over the lackluster desert.
	Heather scanned with her binoculars for her hawk.
	Brock stole another look inside Heather’s blouse…

	Sweat trickled down the nape of his neck, he could feel sweat sweating in his underwear.  In a way, he was like Alice, worried about getting back.  His mom wouldn’t be so bad about his “disappearance”, but his dad would be.  He’d probably get grounded for taking off.  They all were supposed to stay close to the rustic camp ground at the base of Gold Mountain.  The Nature Lover of the group, though, had other ideas.  Naturally Brock would go with her, he was kinda warm for her form.
	All four of the teens had older siblings, brothers all, who were heavy into outdoor sports; i.e. motorcycling al la dirt biking.  Austin and Brock were not so enthused.  Nor were the girls, Heather and Alice.  Soooo, while the parental units were busy with the older siblings, the younger ones struck off on their own.  
	They had bikes, the non-motorized type.  They were mountain bikes and did a fair job, but up higher along the mountain trails the bikes were more of a pain in the ass than anything else.  The kids were good for hiking.
	All four had been scolded and warned and bitched at about traipsing off too far out of sight.  “Stay close to camp.” was the general spiel from their parents.
	Austin looked down the long trail.  He guessed camp was about a mile or so down.  That was close, wasn’t it?  He wondered if getting into trouble was worth the trouble.  Looking up to catch a glimpse of Heather tugging at her butt told him it was.
	Heather was going on.  After taking a big swallow of her allotted water--and tugging her panties out of her ass, the girl moved around some boulders picking her way up to the very top of the hill.  
	“I’m not going up there.” said Alice.
	Brock was and was.
	That left Austin in a quandary.  He wanted to follow the two, he guessed that if Brock really got alone with Heather--she might cut him some slack and show him some titty.  Austin had seen both Heather and Alice in their swimsuits.  Heather had a lovely two piece bikini set, yellow with purple splotches.  Alice had a single one piece outfit that was blue.
	Heather and Brock were making their way further and further.  Austin leaned against a rock, he seriously needed to pee.  He wondered if Alice would freak if he just simply “whipped it out” where they were?  
	She probably would.
	He wondered if he could just go around the boulder and do it?
	She might hear his pee hitting the ground, but oh well.
	The pressure was too much to put off, he worried that the sweat inside his underwear wasn’t sweat but urine.  No way was he going to be seen with wet pants.  Quickly he moved off the steep incline and around the boulder.  Out of his knee length jeans he fished out his penis and quickly began to pee.
	It felt GOOD!
	Really good.
	He sighed some relief and then leaned against the boulder.
	The boulder was hot and he yelped in pain.
	His suddenness pushed him back to whereas he slipped and fell.
	“Austin?” Alice called out.  When he didn’t respond the girl raced around the great boulder, seeing her friend on his ass, legs open, penis out.  He had landed hard and had been stunned by it, the ground beneath him was as equally hot as the surface of the great boulder.
	Alice’s eyes went right to the boy’s exposed schlong.
	She quickly caught herself and returned to the other side of the rock.
	Austin sat still for a moment never minding the tremendous heat blistering his ass.  At length he sighed and scrambled to stand up.  He didn’t know what to do or say.  Brushing his hands off on his pants he tucked his penis back in.
	He looked up the hill, Heather and Brock were out of sight.  He could only imagine what they were doing.  He cursed his bad luck.  Sighing and kicking some stones he returned to the other side of the boulder where Alice was trying to find solace in its pitiful shade.
	“Sorry.” he offered.
	Alice looked to him, ‘Huh?’  then, ‘Oh.’ She shrugged and let it go, she already had.  Austin was still lingering on it.  He leaned against the boulder (the side that wasn’t scalding hot.)
	“I know what you were doing.” Alice suddenly piped in.
	‘Huh?’
	“My brother, Shaun, he does that all the time.” Alice stated nonchalantly.
	Austin was kinda-sorta at a loss.  ‘What the fuck was she talking about?’  Frantically he searched his mind.
	“I don’t see why boys do that so much.” Alice continued.
	Austin twisted his cheek, he was at a loss.
	“Well,” he said not knowing for sure, “when you gotta you gotta.”
	Alice made a slight face.  “My Mom caught my brother at it one time and she like totally freaked out.”
	Now she really had Austin going.  
	Then it hit him.  Oh.
	‘OH!’  he blushed and got a little embarrassed.  ‘Damn, girl!’
	“Y-you-you’ve seen your brother doing it?”
	Alice shrugged, “Yeah, no biggie.  He does it all the time.” he was sixteen, kinda beefy, all-sports.  Austin tried to place in his mind, Shaun jerking off, with his sister watching.
	“Does he KNOW you’re watching him?”
	“Sometimes.”
	Damn!  Austin gulped.  He suddenly became aware of his OWN situation, his own need to jerk off.  He had just found out recently that he could and that it felt sooooooo good!
	“I just don’t see why boys have to do that all the time.” Alice continued.  Austin didn’t know what to say.  He knew what he wanted to do…
	“Well, girls do it, too!” blurted Austin.  He wasn’t sure but sorta heard that they did.  He just didn’t know how, he was a little vague on that.
	Alice was quiet.  
	Austin sighed, he shouldn’t have said what he said.  He looked up to the top of the hill; still no sign of Brock or Heather.  He could only imagine what they were doing.  And he was missing it!
	“I’ve never done it.” Alice said in a low voice.
	Austin desperately tried to determine how a girl “did herself.”  Girls didn’t have a schlong like a boy did.  He’d seen little girls and had a fair idea about what a girl between her legs looked like.	
	Alice stood and brushed off her butt.  Austin wanted to do it and found himself pulling himself back--he almost just reached out automatically to do the job.  He knew that he’d probably more than likely get slapped and hurled down the mountain.
	“What the hell are they DOING up there!?” the girl bitched.  She very seldom was heard to cuss.  Austin shrugged, “I guess we should go up…” he moved passed the reluctant girl, taking her hand.
	Alice accepted and the two slowly picked their way up.

	It was slow going with slipping and sliding all the way.  Alice got a small cut on the heel of her hand she bitched about, Austin skint his knee.  ‘Why am I doing this again?’ he asked himself.
	He tugged and tugged on Alice, dragging her up the hill.  Occasionally he got a freebie shot down the opening of her blouse.  Her skin was very tan, he could see her bra--it completely concealed both pre-teen mounds.  Oh how he wanted to see them exposed!
	The heat of the day was intensifying, with no let up in sight.  Their allotment of water was being very nearly used up.  The trail mix snack food Austin dumped along side the “trail”, ‘who in their right mind would eat this crap!’
	“Why’d you do that for?” Alice asked.
	“Like bread crumbs, leaving a trail so’s the rangers can find our bodies.”
	“Not funny!” Alice was quick to quip and she slapped at Austin.
	Austin shrugged it on, took her hand and continued on their way.

	Finally, at the top of the jutting hill the two came panting and took a long needed breather.  There was an overhang that created a sort of width wise shelter.  Lots of camping debris was strewn about--bits of clothes, spent in condoms, used toilet paper, empty water bottles, pieces of a porno mag.
	No sign of Heather or Brock.
	Austin twisted his feet around.  “My feet are burning!” he complained.  There was a nice cool creek way down the bottom of the hill.  It was almost run dry but still had enough water in it to refresh tootsies.
	Alice said exasperated, but said nothing.  For a change.
	The shade was nice, but it was still hot.
	No sign of Heather or Brock.
	“Where the hell are those two?” Austin wondered.  Moving from his shade he stepped out and looked around and did a brief quick scan.  There wasn’t much room at the top of the five hundred foot hill.  Big rocks and boulders and steep slopes nipped seclusion.  It was a bare hill and the Summer sun beat down on it pretty good.
	“Oh my God!” exclaimed Alice.
	“What?” returned Austin whirling around--nearly losing his balance.
	“Y-you don’t think they--” she couldn’t complete her sentence.  The look of horror on her face prompted a nervous Austin to look over the edge.
	It was steep.  Rugged is as rugged does.  Five hundred feet nearly straight down and then some.  Cacti and sharp jutting rocks, a rocky slide clear to the bottom.
	Peering intently, though, Austin saw no bodies.  He looked back to the horrified Alice, he shook his head.
	“They musta went on, or something.” Austin supplied.
	“Went on?” whined Alice, “how much fucking further is this thing?” Alice was getting mad, the usage of cuss words was entering her usually pristine vocabulary.
	Austin had no fucking clue as to how much further the hill went.  He knew he had had enough of it and it was time to get back down the hill, cool the feet and head back to the campsite ‘fore he was grounded until he graduated high school!
	But, he turned and precariously picked his way around the one jutting edge of the overhang.  It wasn’t a trail per se, but one nevertheless.  It took in the natural curvature of the hill on the west side sloping steeply down into adjoining hills.  All bare, all hellishly hot and unfriendly.  And down at the nook switchback of the “trail” was Heather and Brock.
	“Goddamn it!” he bitched.  He sighed and let out his breath.  Squinting his eyes he could see the two shoulder to shoulder laying against the side of an adjoining hill, very precariously poised to fall should they slip.  They were perched so as to see the nest of the red tailed hawk Heather was interested in.
	Austin went down to Alice, “Lemme see you binoculars.” Alice had a small pair of nocks that were decent enough.  She handed them over and Austin scurried back up to the optimum viewing area.
	The surface of the jutting slab stone was hot but tolerable.  For a while anyways.  Zooming in he could see Heather’s ass.  What a nice ass.  A very nice ass.  A great ass.  He could see her panty lines right on the cheeks of that ass!  His dick groaned and he wanted desperately to do what Alice had thought he had been doing.
	The he saw Brock put his hand on Heather’s ass.  OMG!
	Austin felt more than “sweat” trickling inside his underwear.
	“Oh no you didn’t!” he said aloud.
	Small minute circles, rub-rub-rub.  Then, a finger slipped down between her legs.  DOWN BETWEEN HER LEGS!
	Austin lost the ability to breathe.  He was zoomed to the max n the binoculars--he could see Brock fingering Heather between her legs!
	“Son-of-a-bitch!” he bitched.  “Some guys get ALL the luck!”