August Moone
Book 8
Chapter Forty-Five
When you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount

Any orgasm in the wind will do
	Dinner, movie, blowjob
	The movie at the drive-in was alright; the cartoons were better than the main feature presentation.  But it was the grumbling dinner that had Helga a little upset and fidgety.  A phone call from Phoebe bugged her, too; she really missed that muff diver.  With new best friend, Kim, the relationship was different.  And that bugged Helga, even more so.  With Phoebe, Helga bossed her around.  A lot.  With Kim, not so much.  They got along without Helga being a bossy bitch and getting Phoebe to do her bidding.  Kim was easy going and was “just different”.
	It’d be a hoot, though, if Pheebs would happen to show up in town!
	Wasn’t going to happen but it would be a hoot!
	At the movie, which the second feature sucked wind and was too lame to watch all the way thru (but they did anyways) Helga snuggled with her Dad and found him to be restless.  Kim Ko was oddly fascinated with the second feature and didn’t pay attention to Helga and Big Bob’s antics.
	The second feature should have been shown first—Big Bob got bored and made trip after trip to the concession stand.  At length to settle her restless Pop down, Helga settled on his lap digging her ass into his manhood.  Kim sat still munching popcorn with eyes glued to the movie, Robot Bunnies on Zombie Island! –featuring B-actress, Yvonne Burgerone.
	Big Bob cuddled/snuggled his daughter, patting her stomach and apparently only mildly interested in feeling her up or sexually at all.  Helga, however, was interested.  After much fussing and finally figuring out how to move the steering wheel out of the way, Helga managed to undo her pants and push them down along with her panties.
	Bob’s truck, which he refused to give up, was parked on the last row on the far right parking spot.  One car was to the right; no vehicle on the left, no one on the picnic tables in the small park at the end of the gravel lot, and it was not only dark but it was damn dark!

	After much wiggling of her ass—her bare ass, Big Bob finally got enthused and began fingering his daughter’s pussy.  It was a bit of an awkward thing to do but Helga managed to kick free her clothes and then somewhat clumsily pulled off her top and unhitched her bra.
	There, she was naked.
	The lead robot bunny had grown supersize and leaped easily over the entrapments the zombies had set.  However, almost all of King Bunny’s companions had been turned (into zombies.)  Armed with his trusty carrot sword, the robot bunny king hopped on to seek out the zombie lord in his underground labyrinth.
	With her legs spread wide straddling Big Bob’s legs, a lot of fingering went on.  Helga began to get hot and horny—horn-ee-er.  She wiggled and wiggled until finally getting her Dad worked up he finagled his own pants and underwear down and plunged his fuck stick into Helga’s pussy.
	Gripping, and then tweaking her own tits, Helga slipped into a satisfying orgasm.  She clenched and clenched tightly on the invading prong in her pussy.  Big Bob gripped her hips and gently glided Helga UP and Down—UP—and DOWN—and repeat.
	It didn’t take long before a hot wad of sticky goo spurted from his cock flooding the girl’s pussy.  Both lovers shuddered and both melted.  Big Bob’s cock remained steadfast in Helga’s poon.  She wiggled a little and knew that her Dad’s dick wasn’t strong enough to go up her ass.  Not yet.
	The Zombie Lord muttered (or mumbled) something in some archaic language unknown to the Robot Bunny.  The two warriors circled one another; King Bunny hopping a little, Zombie Lord dragging one foot and moaning a little.  He reeked of death, rotting death.
	“I shall overcome you!” spoke King Bunny.  “My righteous outweighs all other--”
	The Zombie Lord made a sudden interruptive moan that was quite loud and he slung his Death Sword at the Bunny King.  King Bunny just barely dodged the strike and whirled about sending a large size sixteen bunny foot into the Zombie’s face.
	Kim leaned forward, eyes transfixed on the fight scene between the zombie and bunny—completely oblivious to her passengers’ antics.  Helga turned about—trying to keep her Dad’s dick in her cunt making an Around- the-World porno move.  She had to raise up too far and Big Bob’s big dick slipped out.  But not for long.  It hadn’t gone flaccid and was easily jammed back into place.  Helga’s asshole clenched and her young cunny clenched even more.  She shuddered and engaged in a second round of sexual romping with her Dad.

	King Bunny’s right servos for the right arm were non-functioning after the devastating attack by the Zombie Lord.  Despite his decrepitedness, the Zombie Lord had amazing dexterity and ability to swing the two-handed sword one handed.  The powerful heavy sword nearly severed King Bunny’s right arm; but in doing so—the bunny king saw a weakness in the Zombie Lord.
	Helga bounced up and down on her Dad (and his lovely cunt filling/cunt pleasing cock!)  Big Bob clasped his naked daughter to him, caressing her bare backside, clutching her ass, driving his manly fatherly manhood into her young teenage daughterly pussy.
	“Oh!  God!  Helga!” Big Bob stammered.  He was cumming again.  The man couldn’t control his eyes—or anything else and power fucked his cock into his daughter’s cunt tensing up and submitting to a glorious orgasm seconds later that lasted seconds.
	Helga melted.  Nothing to it—just melted after she herself felt the release of her own juices.  She shivered and collapsed into her Dad finding their illicit act the most sublime thing ever.
	Kim Ko, so fascinated with the movie ate popcorn that wasn’t there!
	The Zombie Lord made a slow arching path one direction; the Bunny King went the opposite direction.  Flickering torches flickered shadows all over the subterranean lair; the air reeked of dead earth and water dripped from the ceiling and along the natural walls—‘ceptin’ the water wasn’t water but slime!
	The two warriors carefully sized one another up; King Bunny was keenly aware of the sudden presence of pirate zombies.  Not only were there zombies—they were PIRATE zombies!  King Bunny had slain many of the blaggards on his way into the depths of the Zombie Lord’s lair.  Now he was alone, one arm was disabled, one eye dysfunctional, too.  Hefting his metallic unbreakable sword he parried as the Zombie Lord thrusted then feigned right, swung around and felt the zombie’s sword slice his backside as amazingly he was quicker in his spin than he!
	The Zombie Lord giggled and dragged the tip of his blade on the partly cobblestoned floor and earth.  The floor and earth were soaked in slime, the oozy slime that dripped and rolled down the ceiling and floor.  From the tip of the blade spider-like webs darted out a few inches.  King Bunny began to stagger as the poison introduced to his robot system began affecting his circuits.
	King Bunny began to twitch and it was a struggle to keep ahead of those critical circuits necessary to keep his system operating.  Logic dictated that there would be no win today.

	“Helga,” Big Bob breathed (hard) “we’ve got to get you on protection.”
	Helga nodded and made some comment.  A little late, several dicks had been in her pussy shooting off juts of potentially potent cum.  Of course, it was one thing to get knocked up by a teenage boy let alone a grown man, Rain Frisco.  But her Dad?  That would seriously suck.

*

Lair of the Zombie Lord
	The Lair of the Zombie Lord, whose previous name was Louis Bagg, later to become simply Loobag after the “transformation” from human to zombie, was deep underground, underneath a great jutting rock precipice overlooking the ocean.  A cove of sorts was ‘neath the jutting precipice, called Terramore.  
	There was an open ledge that looked out over the cove; parts of old ships lined the walls, along with what the ships used to have in their holds.  A rather large clutch of zombies had taken the cove, and the lair—led by a single zombie leader, Loobag.
	Loobag had been (and still was) a pirate.  Those who followed were pirates, too; or they would die wanting to be one!  He had been a bloodthirsty pirate in life—and exceeded that goal in death!  The stench of death filled the lair—it was quite gruesome!
	Loobag had declared the entire lair his—twice!  Once as the feircesome pirate Blaggart, then as the undead warrior, Loobag.  It was written, in blood on a dingy grimy shield, ‘that who shall ever lay claim to the lair, Blood Curl.
	Inside the lair a drove of zombies wandered almost aimlessly.  Some were mindless, some thought themselves capable of defeating the zombie lord and taking his prized sword.
	Throngs of zombies recently transformed came on their skullery ships swarming into the lair.  Some came for the food offered deep within the lair, a special food that would sustain them whilst they were zombiefied—a messy and gory supply of brains!
	Other zombies came for other reasons.
	 Fighting, thrashing with one another, gambling and drinking were the mainstay of the zombies, pirate zombies.  The zombie pirates still held “treasure” as a prize worth having and fighting for—along with devouring a booty of brains.  Loobag had a prize, his sword.  There was another prize in the lair he held supreme but didn’t know why.

	Far back in the putrid lair, Loobag sat on a jutting rock that served as his throne.  It was made of skins and bones of those who dared oppose him.  Other than his fantastic sword there was a crystal ball that held his attention.  It wasn’t a grandiose ball but, not even of crystal or gemstone!  The ball was “mechanical” in nature, drab in color.  The ball had been part of a special cargo of a ship he had conquered (and sunk).  Robots had been guarding the special cargo—and they were all at the bottom of the ocean just like their ship!
	Loobag stared with almost loving admiration at the special item.  He regarded it as a personal prize and it was Hands Off to all.  Being a zombie he knew little to nothing of the robotic world but if they had it in their possession and guarded it AND revered the ball as something very special—then the Lord of the Zombies wanted it for himself.
 	A few lights there were in the dismal lair—zombies didn’t like fire or torch light—go figure.  The lights danced on the ball’s surface of which Loobag had some scummy pirate clean of filth every now and then.
	There was an inscription on the ball.  What it was was unknown as it was written in binary—a robot language.  Robots and zombies ruled the new earth and there was an ongoing fight to see who would ultimately win.  The Lord of the Zombies, though, that the ball had magical powers; the ability to reverse zombieism for one.
	Moaning as zombies do, Loobag shuttled about the ball lightly tapping it with his sword.  A throng of fresh zombies came filtering into the chamber, some had just been transmutated; others had been zombies a long time.  
	A zombie said something almost unintelligible, but it sounded something like “Blood ‘n’ brains, Cap’n, whack that thing and lets ‘ear it sing!” and without waiting for Captain Loobag to act, the tall zombie whose head was permanently cocked to one side somewhat fused to his decaying zombie shoulder, drew his own sword and proceeded to smack the bell himself.
	Loobag twirled, a famous trick of the old sea dog, and sliced the zombie clean in two.  Worms from within the zombie wriggled and the other zombies freaked out grabbing up handfuls of the white wriggling grublings.
	More moaning that sounded something like, “No one touches me ball, now or ever!”
	The zombie pirates—those eating zombie worms and those lingering about those eating zombie worms, roared with laughter.  Just because they were dead, they were still pirates.  They no longer craved “wine” but did enjoy Blood Wine.  It was more potent—with the main ingredient—blood.

	 The Zombie Lord knew that a robot bunny was coming, they were always hopping into his lair trying to retrieve the mechanical ball.  All had perished by the Zombie Lord’s blade—just like the Bunny King would.
	The King of the Robot Bunnies, though, was a formidable opponent and an excellent sword user.  But the zombie lord had dealt a devastating attack without actually trying—just a slice from the undead’s blade was enough to slow the furry creature down.  
	The throng of undead became entranced and stood shoulder to shoulder and moved all in one direction like the dead grasses of the meadows above the lair in the swamp.
	Loobag moaned something that sounded like “Your time is up, you should not have come here.”
	The Robot Bunny King twitched, his pinned ears began to wither and electrical archings sizzled across his infrared eyes.  There was nothing that he could say as he struggled against the poison that was ravaging his circuitry.	
	The Zombie Lord circled the Bunny King, dragging his blade in the slimy poison infused floor.
	“You’re finished!” the Zombie Lord shouted in a mournful moan.
	King of the Robot Bunnies made a gallant charge; spinning, ducking, then amazingly leaping in the air over the undead self-proclaimed lord.  While doing so, his own blade sliced into the Zombie Lord’s shoulder sending him reeling as the electrical discharge seethed thru his vile twisted body.
	“Not yet!” spouted the Robot Bunny King (in binary.)  Another spin and a dramatic kick with both feet sent the Zombie Lord sprawling backwards knocking over his prized possession from its metal stand.  King of the robot bunnies was distracted and made a fruitless grab for the ball that didn’t roll but merely kerplunked to the sticky-icky floor.  The Robot Bunny King stretched out his hand to take possession of the ball but the poison in his system caused him to twitch with sudden paralysis.  The ball was just out of reach.
	The Lord of the Zombies grumbled something as he circled the twitching Bunny Robot on the floor; his floor.  The blade he dragged made a curious sound; the gathered zombies had all suddenly stopped their swaying; a stillness—an eerie silence, came to lay in the festering lair.
	The Robot Bunny blinked his eyes rapidly, sputtered something, twitched all over then a river of black ooze began to river out of his mouth.  The Zombie Lord stepped up to his former opponent, muttered something then drew a mark on the robot bunny’s chest.

*

	Motors began firing up right as the Zombie Lord began to yell his victory.  The credits began rolling and patrons were fleeing.  Kim Ko sat back in the seat, “Whew!” and “That was a good movie!”
	‘That was a good fuck!’ Helga and Big Bob thought together.
	Helga barely had the strength to move off of her sweating heaving Dad but she managed to plop her naked self back onto the seat and melt there.  Big Bob got his clothes back up, fired up the truck and followed the last of the taillights out of the lot.  The credits to the movie were still rolling!

	Do you know?  Big Bob drove out of the drive-in theatre lot, down the street, passed the park, and to the drive-in eatery drive-thru before Kim noted Helga was naked (still)!  She just kept saying, “Wow, that was a good movie.”
	Helga DID finally put her clothes back on once at the drive-in; just an ice cream for Big Bob, a chocolate shake for Helga and a thicker shake for Kim.  Afterwards, Bob drove them to where he worked, the used car, truck, and farm equipment center.
	In his office located in the back and out of view he turned on a light, the radio, and then went into the bathroom for a bit of a cleanup.  
	“I gotta pee.” Kim said.  3-4 glasses soda at dinner, 2 large sodas at the drive-in movie theatre, 1 large strawberry extra thick shake (and the kid was super thin!)
	Big Bob was in the small cramped bathroom washing his foul cock when Kim came in.  
	“Gotta pee.” she said.
	Bob smiled at her and stepped out of the way, the slender Chinese girl who barely had form despite being thirteen years young, was very pretty.  Bob liked her, more than he liked Phoebe.  Kim had a unique face, a genuine smile, and a decent body.  
	Kim eased her pants and underwear down and copped a squatted on the toilet.  She tooted firstly then let go a mighty flow of pent up pee.  Bob stood at the sink—cock out.  As Kim peed—the freshly washed cock got hard.  Then Kim was shucking her brown breeches and lavender colored panties, slipping off her top and bra she barely needed and sitting up straight opening her legs.
	Of course she had been prompted by Helga standing naked at the bathroom door.  Big Bob had been oblivious to his naughty daughter behind him; his attention was fully focused on Kim.

	When his cock was at optimum hardness he moved to confront Kim.
	The girl took the hardened offering, grinning some and somewhat, too, nervous.  But it was a natural feeling overwhelmed by the sheer illicitness.  She took the cock in both hands, squeezed it, worked it, then put her lips to it and began kissing the tip.  Helga remained at the door, fingering herself.
	Kim’s mouth came over the head of Big Bob’s big dick; she squeezed the meat stick and like a snake began to engulf.  Big Bob groaned and moaned—much like the Zombie Lord.  The girl didn’t have a large mouth but somehow—amazingly—she managed to take just about all of Big Bob’s big dick.  Amazing!
	“Here it comes!” Bob made the sudden announcement.
	Kim didn’t even pause but masturbated the cock all the more getting a generous healthy load of spunk for her efforts.  So much spunk, though, and the girl gagged and the cock in her mouth was blasted out.  More spunk spewed from the piss slit blasting onto the sweet girl’s face.
	The release of spunk instantly and dramatically melted Big Bob.  He made an inaudible comment and leaned back to the wall.  The bathroom being so small he still was pretty much in the face (the cum laden face) of Kim.
	With toilet paper the girl wiped her face clean.  Big Bob leaned against the stucco wall massaging his organ and swelled up testicles.  Then Helga waltzed in and Bob’s big dick ached.  It wasn’t over for him yet.

*

Experts say “Something went wrong in jet crash” You think!?
	Close to $25,000 occupied space on the green felt table.
	In Rain’s hands was a three Queens and a pair of Three’s.
	His opponents were Marcus, an uppity sports agent; a young Asian man, Jo Ko, and another young man, basic white boy.  There had been three others but had bowed out early.  The River was coming; Rain’s balls were cinched up in his underwear as tight as possible—much the same went for his asshole.
	The young Asian man gave no indication whatsoever of his hand.
	Marcus was pretty good at hiding his hand but Rain noted a little bit of nervousness.  The young white boy licked his lips a lot.  Rain mulled and gave thoughts elsewhere in an attempt at hiding his own hand.
	The River came and…

	The sports agent laid at his hand shaking his head, a Two of Spades, an Ace, and three Five’s to make his hand Three of a Kind.  Quite a risk for the loot in the pot.  The gathered throng of peoples who had gathered to watch the amazing parlay.
	Kim Ko’s older brother, Jo, had a Straight, starting with a 7 of Diamonds.  He had invested a total of ten grand in three games—and only won back a third of that.
	Basic white boy had 2, 4, 7,  J, K.  All Clubs.  That’s a Flush.
	Rain blinked his eyes.  ‘What the fuck?’  His cards, Queens and Threes made his hand a Full House—which trumped the Three of a Kind, the Straight, and Flush.  All that booty in the pot was his.  Sonofabitch!
	With a big sigh he collected the chips, took a minute for himself, acknowledged the gathered crowd and almost stumbled to the cashier cage to exchange the chips for paper.
	‘add an extra stack.’ he said with a smile.

	“Wow, that was an amazing play!”
	Rain had to agree.  Bartender Pete served up a free drink to the loaded winner; other patrons came to congratulate the casino’s 3rd biggest winner since the new casino in Burrelwood, 45 min drive northeast of Northvalley. 	Prior to the new casino the only enthusiastic events happening in the town of less than ten thousand was the annual tractor pull, rodeo days, and the county fair.
	Rain leaned back a little, received his accolades with a nod, a smile, and declined the “picture” publicity.  Signed paperwork necessary for Federal Government involved, and sized up the woman who was all gaga over his accomplishment.
	“I’ve played before,” the woman said after ordering a Cosmo, “but never had confidence enough to get in a game like that.  Have you been playing long?”
	Rain smiled, “A little while.”
	The woman, who introduced herself as Janet, was in her early 30s.  Short ultra curly curled brown hair, brown eyes, short dainty nose, some freckles, and nominal 28Cs.  A green top with the emblem of the town emblazoned on the front depicting the grand opening of the town’s one and only casino; not too tight dark blue slack, open toed sandals.
	A few “rings” but no “wedding ring.”  Of course that didn’t mean anything and Rain knew it.  

	Other comps came Rain’s way, free drinks, a dinner for two, a nominal gift from the gift shop, and a free room.
	“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
	Janet, Janet Weezealot, smiled and accepted.
	Rain smiled, gouged the heel of his hand into his bothersome cock and sized the woman up again.  Yeah, he would bone her, three holes, and more.  Some spanking, maybe piss on her, shave her cunt, dig into her mind a little bit and see what secrets lay there.  He was SOOOOO glad he found his EMAD.  It had been a great relief ‘cause those things were hard to come by nowadays.

	Dinner was nice—‘specially when it’s free!  More drinks, a little insight on Janet Weezalot, and then a lounge show that was better than most he had seen.  Janet clung—er, accompanied him.  Afterwards, more drinks and some midnight poker playing, low key, no big pots.
	Janet managed to win a $1,000 pot with only investing $300.  She was happy.  Rain’s cock still ached from recent activities so he still wanted to cool it for a while.  He played Five Card stud, Blackjack, Keno, and slots to take him into the wee hours of the morning.  Janet began to tire and lose consciousness just before daybreak.  Rain easily talked her into retiring to his room where she collapsed onto the bed zonked out and then some.
	Rain stripped her to her skin, then himself.  But he was tired, too, full of drink, and tiredness.  The chair at the table he braced under the doorknob, closed the drapes and curtains tight, took a necessary shower and flopped onto the bed with Janet.  Sleep came easily within a minute.

	How long he slept he wasn’t sure, he awoke with a startle and lay absolutely still.  When his senses detected all was well he set up.  Janet lay on her side sleeping soundly—still.  According to his watch—it was 4:30 in the afternoon.  After a good stretch he made for the bathroom for a bit of cleanup, sprucing up, and another shower.  He was nothing if not clean.
	Janet was still asleep—she didn’t really handle booze well.
	‘take it in the ass?’
	‘give head?’
	‘been in an orgy?’
	‘sex with another woman?’
	‘like to have sex with little boys?’
	‘been spanked—sexually?’
	inquiring mind wanted to know…

	Well, more than one horny boyfriend traipsed his cock up her Hershey Highway; more than one horny boyfriend traipsed his cock into her mouth.  Does a sex romp with three other gals, four guys, count as an orgy?  It was in a hot tub at a mountain cabin during spring break while in college.
	Sex with a woman?  Well—there was that time in the hot tub in a mountain cabin…
	No sex with little boys (or girls.)  She had thoughts, though, of teenage boys—but then, who didn’t?  Her first sexual encounter was with a high school boy, he had a car and was 16 or 17 yrs of age, maybe even 18!  Anyways, Janet was not in high school, she was in junior high, 7th grade to be exact.  They both ditched school and drove three hours to the beach.  There, under the boardwalk they got naked and had sex.  All day.
	Spanked?  Well, there was that time she was at a mountain cabin…
	Rain was mildly impressed; no dark secrets.  She was an only child, no sexual improprieties with her dad, uncle, or grandpa.  She masturbated now and then, as a child, teen, and woman.  She wasn’t in a current relationship or in the hunt for one.
	What she WAS in the hunt for was—a sugar daddy.
	Rain had been marked.
	Well, so was Janet.  Rain “put it to her” giving her a good boinking, followed by a doinking (up the butt).  Then, while she lay on the bed and his cock recovered (somewhat) he spanked her.  The woman never woke up!  
	On closer inspection—on her well trimmed cunt, upper left, there was a monkey with a hard-on sodomizing Tarzan!  Rain gave the woman a good boink-doink, a spank, a titty fuck whereupon he splashed a generous amount of goo on her face; then he showered, refreshened and returned to the casino.

	First hand:  Flush; pot--$5,000
	Second hand:  Straight; pot--$8,500
	Third hand:  fold
	Fourth hand:  Four of a Kind; pot--$10,000
	Fifth hand:  fold
	Sixth hand:  Full House; pot--$2,400
	Seventh hand:  lost to a Four of  a Kind
	His investment to the 7th Hand was in the neighborhood of $10,000.  He thought his hand of Flush was a winner.  Oh well, cant win them all.  He played an 8th hand and lost $6,000 to a Straight Flush.  Wisely and Rain cooled his heels and made for the bar, dinner, and a free visit to the lounge with compensation of free drinks and a free show.

	He still wasn’t put off with the recent losing streak; so far he was up nearly $35,000.  After the afternoon show he meandered outside for a little walk; the new casino was juxtaposed with a golf course on one side and a nice park on the other.  Looking over the course, Rain spotted a Target.
	A pair of Targets.
	It was early afternoon, overcast but no threat of rain.  the only threat of “rain” was—Rain himself.  Hardly anyone else was on the course, at leastways not on the particular area the Targets were.  Casually, nonchalantly, Rain Frisco moseyed along the pathway that meandered this way and that with sapling birch trees lining the way.
	Here and there along the way were benches.  Rain parked his keister on the bench and kept a steady but casual eye on the Targets.  Target One was a nice looking woman, auburn hair, good form, light airy sleeveless top, light lavender in color with lighter colored lavender casual slacks with lots of ankle area showing.
	With her was a young girl, her daughter obviously, who was about ten.  Flat chested, bouncy brown hair with a single braid off the side of her pretty head; she seemed “happy-go-lucky” as she twirled her golf club and skipped along the fairway.  Rain’s cock grumbled but was enthused.
	The Targets soon turned to Subjects.

	Dora and her young daughter weren’t visitors to Burrelwood, they were new residence.  A new housing development was just the thing for young peoples to get started.  The prices were just right, the town was nestled with mountains (and skiing close by), a desert for exploring and off-roading; there was the golf course, parks, a mini mall, three brand new schools, a couple of churches, and so on.
	The two Subjects were lighthearted, free from care, unaware of any potential doom about to prevail upon them.  The young girl seemed to have a pretty good knack at the game of golf.  As the pair made their way down to the end of the fairway, Rain slowly-slowly-s-l-o-w-l-y followed—continuing to be nonchalant.
	No one—no one else at all was around.  His cock groaned when the girl “dug” her panties out of her crack.  His thoughts went wild thinking of the girl—peeing while standing up, laying down with her legs spread—fingering herself, sucking his cock.
	The girl knocked the ball in the cup scoring better than her mother.  Rain didn’t much care for golf—he figured once you’ve found the ball you just hit you ought to pick it up, put it in your pocket, and go the fuck home!
	But that was just Rain.

	Daylight was fading and it was a LONG walk back to the clubhouse.  That particular area of the fairway was very muchly infused with pines of various sizes as well as some bushes, shrubs, and natural boulders.  Rain leaned casually against one of the great boulders—he needn’t eye-to-eye contact with the Subjects, they could be heard yapping, giggling, laughing, being merry and unaware.
	As they came to the boulder—they were “in range.”
	Rain made a security check then brought into play his trusty minding device.  Both Subjects were easily swayed by the phenomenal abilities of the electronic gadget.  The Mother shook her head trying to clear it and shake off the minding attack.  Her daughter’s mind was nabbed instantly and stood still.
	Rain had to boost the EMAD’s “gain” to fully grab the woman, Dora Gottwat.  He then had the mother/daughter come about the boulder then walk them down into the newly planted woods—out of sight behind some well placed boulders and shrubs.  Beyond the fairway was desert.
	Rain was about to send the onboard command from the minding device “take off your clothes” when Dora slung her head, stumbled, grabbed a sapling and sputtered something like “what the fuck?”
	Furiously and did Rain reset the Device noting that cohesion was lacking—the little girl’s mind was still locked and in the Green.  Her Mom, however, was in the Yellow zone and that was bad—especially ‘cause the indicator of Strength was dropping more and more into the Red zone where at Zero there would be no mind hold at all.
	And that would be very bad.
	Sometimes it just didn’t work—and this was one of those times.  It seriously irked Rain, though—he so much wanted to see the little girl peeing (among other things.)  The Device, though, held her mind entrap; her Mom, though, was barely captured and thusly hardly controllable.
	So, Rain lessoned the grab on Emily freeing up more “grab” on her Mother.  That helped but that wasn’t the issue, Dora Gottwat just had one of those minds that was able to prevent her mind from being grabbed.  But with Rain’s minding device having a little more magical electronical power the woman she was essentially “grabbed.”
	But for how long?
	After a sigh he tempted no more fate—like touching and fondling the two, but minded to the woman “go home.”  It was getting dark out at the fairway, and Dora Gottwat lived close by in the new housing development.  About half way to the clubhouse, Rain “released” the Subjects and slipped out of sight but kept his prey in sight.

	Dora immediately whirled around looking a little wild frightening her young daughter.
	“What’s wrong, Mom?” the child asked.
	Dora said nothing but gathered herself and walked on to the clubhouse returning their rented clubs.  They were inside for fifteen minutes before exiting.  They crossed the street and Rain made a parallel crossing—still being as nonchalant as possible.  With his eyes being already adjusted to the dimming light he hoped the Subjects’ eyes were not so good just coming out of lighted building.  He scooted quickly to the alley and watched the pair as they went up Sukmidry Drive.  Not all the house in the new development area were built, there was some fencing, some trees, not a lot else—but it was in the development stage.
	The fourth house down was the Subjects’ house.  Rain hustled tripping over some left over tools workmen had left haphazardly about sending excruciating pain to his shin.  Then he barrel into the fireplug.  A mound of dirt was next to interrupt his pursuit.
	Finally, though, he was at the Gottwat house.
	The living room light was on as well as the kitchen located in the rear area.  There was a front yard, brand new lawn with some flowers, bushes, no trees.  There, too, was a fence along both sides of the property to the backyard.  No car in the drive.  There was a Navy base not far from Burrelwood, they did experiments there, new development of air craft, missiles, alien abductions, what have you.  The hubby worked there as an engineer (and worked late and odd hours.)
	Rain waited—he was treading on thin ice and he knew it.  The Device wasn’t working up to par—or it was but his Subjects had a stronger mind will to thwart the Device’s attempt to overtake.  
	Strangely, in a world of thieves, home invaders, house breaker inners, and mind altering device users, there were people who still—still left doors and windows unlocked.  Imagine!
	Rain found the patio door unlocked.
	No doggie.
	No kitty kat, either.
	There was an alarm system but it wasn’t set.
	Subjects One and Two were in the family room chattering.  That was the last thing they knew—until…

*

Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines
	He could only stare—stare near mindlessly as his spunk spewed from his cock squirting all over Kim Ko’s sweet face.  There just wasn’t any more (cum) to give.  Then—then Helga waltzed in.  Big Bob groaned—especially his cock.  
	There was a shower in the small bathroom—a small shower.  The shower was so small (HOW SMALL WAS IT?) that to turn around the occupant had to come out of the shower to do so.
	That’s small!
	Helga, stark naked, slipped into the small shower and began fingering herself.  Kim got up from the toilet and managed to make entry into the shower where firstly she and Helga embraced and clutched at one another’s ass.  Then they parted—as much as the could in the small shower and Helga began peeing.  Her stream was so hard that it very muchly spurted from her pussy “showering” her best friend.
	This naturally got Daddy Big Bob hard.  
	The girls continued their antics of getting Bob hard with Kim positioned behind Helga fingering Helga’s pussy.  Helga reached her long skinny arms back to grope and feel Kim’s ass.  Bob’s big dick ached and ached terribly.  
	“You girls--” was all he was able to say.  The crampedness of the shower prompted Helga to get out.  She made her way out of the bathroom and to the big executive desk that took up most of her Dad’s new office.  The office he had in the City was twice as big.  Helga merely lay up against the desk, laying down on it spreading her cheeks.  Playfully, Kim came up and began spanking Helga’s ass.  Big Bob was about to explode—sexually speaking.  He emerged from the bathroom—with his big dick leading the way and stood watching Kim spank his daughter.
	Bob stood up against Helga’s reddened ass rubbing his cock all over.  There was great agony but pleasure, too.  He was driven by lust to continue.  Kim stood giggling, blushing, embarrassed about being naked and so naughty with Helga AND her daddy.
	Helga wiggled her butt in a rolling motion as well as up and down.
	Big Bob glided his big dick down between his daughter’s cheeks but it wasn’t Helga who would be buggered.  Being already previously fucked up the butt by her Dad at the movie, Helga slowly moved out of the way and Kim took her place.  Big Bob didn’t mind; his cock went up against Kim’s ass and enjoyed that just as much.

	Helga moved out of the way but got onto the desk, sat down, opened her legs, and Kim began licking and lapping away at her snatch.  It totally enthused Bob and his cock, despite being achingly sore began inching its way into Kim’s asshole.
	Big Bob clenched Kim’s hips and dutifully made as much anal entry as he could.  The skinny thirteen year old Chinese girl grabbed the edges of the great desk and buried her face into Helga’s cunt.  Bob’s dick was only half way in—but it was enough.  He pulled partly out—then pushed partly in.  out—in.  out—in.  All the way out—most the way in.  The process began to increase in tempo stretching the young teen’s asshole.  Bob tried to be gentle but he knew his big dick was too much for her so he cooled it and relaxed some—but he was far from coming off again.
	Then, Helga repositioned herself, getting underneath her friend assuming the sixty-niner position.  Kim continued noshing on the gash while Helga tongued Kim’s cunt AND latched onto her Dad’s ball sac.  While caressing Kim’s brilliant ass, she also grabbed holt of her Dad’s dong, flopped it against Kim’s ass in need of sun then poked it back into the hole that was still big enough to hide a small naval fleet.
	Enthused by his daughter’s antics, Big Bob returned to plowing Kim’s hole making more entry aided by his daughter’s spitting on his schlong.  It was a phenomenal event surprising Bob as finally every inch of his massive fuck stick was IN Kim Ko’s crapper.  The poor girl would never have a normal asshole again.

My Daddy the pervert
	And on it went—
	After a shower—just the girls by themselves then Bob by himself, it was breakfast time.  The girls began yapping about the girl scouts and Helga still only slightly enthused about joining up.  Bob found a fellow hunter who had just bought a big four-wheel drive from him and so they yapped for a little while then it was home.  Kim was staying with Helga the night and most the day and Bob was fine with that.
	Then, while paying the check—Helga noted her Dad noting the little girl about 7 or 8 yrs young freaking out in the foyer.  She was dancing, twirling, jumping up and down and flopping onto the wooden bench raising her legs exposing herself.  The child wore a kiddie dress that was short and easily revealed her yellow panties.

	Outside in the parking lot wasn’t any better; a small horde of young girls about 9 yrs young were in cheerleader outfits doing their routine for some reason or another.  A small crowd had gather and Bob put Helga in front of him—he had to or else everyone would see his namesake.
	Helga snuggled up against her Dad surreptitiously squeezing that big dick that was hard and pressing against her backside.  Kim was all goggle eyed at the young cheerleaders who flaunted themselves nearly sexually.
	It was too much for Bob and thru the throng of onlookers he directed his girls to his truck.  Kim blathered on about how limber the young girls had been.  Bob had a cock hard enough to hunt with.
	Once home, the house was empty—Miriam had gone with some women folk doing something with quilts and whatever women do with quilts.  That suited Bob and the girls.  They all made for the bathroom, Bob to his and the girls to the hall bathroom Helga used.  Breakfast felt good twice!
	Peeking into Helga’s bedroom, Bob found the girls naked pressing their bodies together being naughty.  His cock was only partly refreshed from the shower—and he took two of them!  A hot one then a cold one!  the girls broke their embrace and came to the big man with the big dick and guided him to Helga’s bed.  He laid down and the girls piled on him.  It was quite a scene—the naked girls crawling all over him, toying with his cock, planting their naked pussies on his face.
	At length and Kim came to rest on Bob’s face; she nestled her hairless cunt right into him and he reveled it clamping his hands on her hips and digging her pussy into her nose and mouth.  Meanwhile, Helga climbed onto his throbbing cock and settled her sex all the way down onto it.
	The girls then leaned to one another and began kissing.

	A morning of romping (sex), Bob fixed barbeque chicken and then it was an afternoon of romping (more sex), then it was time to shuttle Kim to her own home.  Afterwards,
	“You liked them girls this morning, didn’t you?”
	Bob was embarrassed and grumbled something giving no answer one way or the other but headed the truck homeward.
	Most the time when out with her Dad and/or Kim, Helga went “unaccompanied”—meaning, without the nifty little mind altering device, electronical.  Most times.  Not this time.  Which came in handy ‘cause on their way home…

*

A picture is worth 1,000 words, but it uses up 1,000 times the memory
	And so it came to pass that on their way home—
	Helga felt undue pressure to hit the bathroom and hit it quick.  But “home” was quite a ways away still and Helga wasn’t doing a Number Two along side the highway.
	But then, then there was this girl.
	A young girl standing listlessly at a lone bus stop.  The bus stop was the last on that particular route—a rural bus went out on Hwy 33 past the farms and ranches then circled back to the main road leading to town.  Round trip took 50 minutes.
	Why the girl was wasn’t known, she was by herself and in the day and age of practically everyone having a minding device of some sort—a young person alone wasn’t a good idea.
	She was in a short plaid dress, too; sleeveless.  Long brown hair with some curls and ribbon adornment.  There was a school backpack on the bench seat and the girl swung child-like on the bus structure’s frame unaware of her pending predicament.  She was pretty and about eight or nine years young.
	“Hey, Dad, why don’t we pick her up?” Helga piped squeezing back the log burgeoning at her asshole.  So well fucked in the ass was she that her anal muscles had a tough time holding back the turds—she was sure that Kim had the same problem if not more so.
	Big Bob slowed his truck down but really didn’t seem to have any intention of “picking up” the young girl.  Helga did—and with the handy-dandy EMAD in her possession…
	The trick was, though, her Dad.  She had not used the minding gadget against her Dad—all they had done together sexually had been on-the-fly, so to speak; as it happened, happenstance, on their own will.  Helga felt that her Dad wanted to be a pervert and most likely wanted to shove his magnificent fuck stick into those young cheerleaders.  
	So it was likely that he wanted to do same with “Ellen.”
	Very carefully Helga “manipulated” Big Bob, she actually didn’t have a good handle on the finite operation of the EMAD; there wasn’t a book on the minding devices, no school to go to, no computer program or instruction, no manual.  If you should happen to acquire one somehow someway—then you were “on you own” as to finger out how it worked.

	Helga wasn’t a dummy and had a minor clue on how the stupid thing worked—but still, she wasn’t fully aware of all its nifty nuances.  She had to be careful lest her Dad become aware.  How or what he would do should he find out she wasn’t sure—but she didn’t want to find out (it would probably most likely ruin things.)  maybe
	Anyways,
	The truck stopped a little passed the stop, Helga stepped out of the truck and waved to the girl (slyly using the EMAD).  The young girl, Ellen Shovitinme, paused a moment, shook her head, cocked her head then began walking to the truck.
	In the truck she sat in the middle.  Big Bob checked her once giving the “once over” then pulled away and on down the highway.  Helga sighed, checked the readings on the EMAD face.  The girl she wanted fully “captured” and that was Green light across the board—four lights for four brain wave patterns—Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta were all green indicating a nice “hold” and therefore subject to manipulation.
	Big Bob, too, had a green light but Helga had found there was a way to limit the hold and just make a “suggestion” allowing the Subject to “be themselves” without knowing they were being manipulated.  Again, though, Helga didn’t have a one hundred percent grasp of how that worked but she knew that it did so that was all that mattered.
	Meadows’ Good Meadow Farm slipped passed the landscape.  Good Meadows was the home of Magic and Copper, and Storm the horse with no shame.  Other farms whizzed by and soon they neared the crossroad where Left took them to their home, Right went the way of the bus route and to the main road where “right” again returned to town.
	Miriam was home.  Helga thought quickly and for no other reason than “just because” she had her Dad pull over at the bus stop.  There was a large open space where on all sides, across the road, before, left and right were tall swaying grasses.  Not tree one for miles but lots of waist high and more of swaying-swaying grasses.  No homes in the area and therefore not a heck of a lot of traffic.
	It was perfect.  Helga got out of the truck, adjusted herself and then got busy with the manipulation of not only Ellen Shoveitinme but her Dad, too.  It was getting to be a bit warm out in the middle of fucking no where, but it did feel strangely good.  Seeing no one around or hearing no traffic of any kind, Helga pushed down her panties and pulled off her typical pinkish shortie dress.  She still just wasn’t comfortable with jeans—but wasn’t opposed.  Anyways,

	With the bench seat pushed back as far as it would go, the action took place.  Firstly, Ellen scooted to the edge of the seat, leaned her shoulders back, then began working her panties down to her ankles.  Then, with her hands behind her knees, Ellen pulled her legs back.  Big Bob made an audible sound displaying his pleasure at seeing the young girl’s display.
	“Oooooh!” he said in a low-low voice.
	“Go on, Dad, have fun.” Helga said aloud as well as transmitting the sentiment via the EMAD.
	Big Bob moved a hand to the girl’s bare thigh and smoothed it all over.  He was completely enamored with the girl—despite her young age.  Dark purple panties the girl had on; the girl’s dress indicated a moderate family income—there weren’t many of those around.  Simple earrings, some kiddie finger rings; a purple, green, lavender, multicolored bracelet trio, and a small dainty necklace having a hummingbird as the center dangly piece.
	She looked Italian.
	Big Bob smoothed his hand all over the girl’s thigh, then began fingering her dainty little hairless pussy.  He was getting more and more enthused (hard) and soon had awkwardly fished out his cock that was already soiled at the piss opening with cum.
	More awkwardness came as the big man clumsily positioned himself against the girl.  There just wasn’t sufficient room to do anything naughty as Bob intended.  But he did manage to gouge his cock against the young Ellen’s pussy.  He gouged and gouged and gouged and then sputtered.  A gusher of cum squirted shooting up Ellen’s near lily white body and then pooling on her belly and finally her virgin pussy.
	“Do you want to fuck her, Dad?” Helga asked aloud.
	“Yeah, sure, why not?” he replied.
	Another attempt was made, this time with Big Bob laying down on the seat and young Ellen on top of him—naked completely.  Helga rubbed and spanked the little girl’s ass and got enthused herself.  She stood on the running board of the truck swatting Ellen’s ass while Big Bob clasping his hands to Ellen’s ass worked her up and down his less than enthused cock.
	Of course, it didn’t take long and Big Bob’s “less than enthused cock” got enthused.  Helga clutched her Dad’s ball sac and directed his cum squirter to Ellen’s pussy.
	It was clumsy and awkward and virtually no way to make entry.  There was partial penetration and that was pretty good.  The hymen of Ellen was breeched—she made a yelp but it was quelled quickly enough by the marvelous mind manipulation of the EMAD.

	Driving totally naked, Big Bob took his truck off Rt. 3 to a dirt road that made way to the hills and an old abandoned railroad stop.  Lots of trees were there, it was cooler by a few degrees and way-way away from any prying eyes.
	Out of the cramped cab and into the back of the truck the trio went, specifically the lowered tailgate.  Bob then looked over the naked Ellen, masturbated, then “went down” on the child while Helga stood by fingering her ownself.
	Helga wondered casually how much younger she could get her Dad to go?  She doubted he would really go for much younger girls and doubly doubted he would enjoy boys of any age.  Helga wondered about herself, too; girls, boys?  She enjoyed them both but how young?  How young would she delve into depravity?  A curious mind wanted to know.
	After much eating out of Ellen Shoveitinme, Bob’s hard throbbing cock went up against the child’s cunt and seriously began making steadfast penetration.  Not all—not all the man’s tremendous cock would go in.  But Big Bob was ok with that as well as his Big Dick.  The head and a bit of shaft was in and then began the pumping.
	Helga fingered herself—fingered herself—fingered herself totally enthused by the goings on.  It seemed to matter not that Ellen S was merely eight years young—five months from being merely nine years young.  Bob pumped, Helga fingered, Ellen squirmed.

*

Kids make nutritious snacks!
	Newspapers sometimes made interesting reading in more ways than one.  “Typhoon rips thru cemetery—hundreds dead!”  no kidding.  “New study of obesity looks for larger test group.”  I see a lawsuit pending.  “Statistics show that teen pregnancy drops off significantly after age 25” who’s editing!?  Oh well.  “Plane too close to ground caused crash.”  You think!?  And “Miners refuse to work after death!” those dirty so-in-sos!
	A look across the bed to the petrified Emily and Rain Frisco knew that she, too, would make a “delicious nutritious snack!”  he couldn’t wait.  But first!  Emily’s Mommy, Dora.
	Dora Gottwat willing complied with the strange invader—mostly out of fear for any harm to her daughter.  Both Mother and Daughter were directed to the parental bedroom where Mommy Dora had to tie up securely her own daughter with duct tape.  Then,

	“Take off your clothes.”
	Dora knew that it was not going to be a simple home invasion robbery.  The strange man wasn’t in her home for material things—he was much more vile than that.  Dora closed her eyes choking back the tears and fears and pulled off her tops, shoes, and then shucked her slacks.  The man stood before her and she thought he was armed with a gun—but sometimes—sometimes when she looked at him hard—there was no gun.
	“Did he have anything in his hands?” a detective would later ask.
	Dora thought—and thought-and thought some more.
	“No.” she said but it wasn’t a “no” founded in concrete.  There was something there—sometimes it was a gun—sometimes it was something else she couldn’t describe.
	After undressing, and standing in her panties and bra—the man moved towards her.  He wore aftershave, no particular brand she could describe but it was possibly a cheap name brand.  A blue shirt, short sleeved and light blue, twin pockets.  An undershirt, too.  Clean shaven, a single gold earring.  No scars.  Blue eyes—really really blue.  A large head—no grand but firm and like a rock.  Straight, white teeth.  No harsh breath.  Blue jeans with square toed boots, leather—brown.
	Not much more than that could Dora Gottwat describe the assailant.
	The man had a good dick, though.  That part she managed to keep to herself.  He was a horrible-horrible man, a despicable piece of scum—but he had a good dick.
	On her own bed, Dora lay out with her legs spread and knees up.  The horrible-horrible despicable piece of scum “went down on her” driving his scummy tongue into her pussy.  Not even her husband did that to her.  And as much as she tried to resist—there was no denying the incredible feeling derived from the deed.  It was sensual.  “Oh my God!” she blurted out although she tried her level best not to.  She bucked into the man’s face—
	“Were you restrained?”
	Dora blinked her eyes.  She couldn’t remember.  There were marring marks on her wrists and ankles but Dora couldn’t rightly remember being tied up.
	The man licked her out for several minutes, nipped her “lips”, engulfed the whole of her cunny then slowly crawled up onto her resting his cock against her pussy.  He wasn’t violent.
	“He wasn’t violent?”
	“No.  He was gentle.”
	He was gentle and in control.

	Emily sat somewhat still, crying and sobbing as she watched her Mom being raped.  More than once did the man on top of her Mom “pull out” and show himself to her.  Then he reoriented the mommy, turning her on the bed so as Emily could see “penetration.”
	“This is how babies, and you, were made.” The man, the horrible-horrible scumy scum sucking piece o’ scum man had said.  Emily cried more and more and watched too up close and way personal as the man had sex.
	And had sex he did.
	Dora thrashed, Rain trashed.  The woman jiggled—Rain giggled.  His manly manhood tingled as he drove madly into the woman’s hot fuckable snatch.  His balls slapped hard and made outrageous quickening noises as he plowed the woman.  Her bountiful titties jiggled and were very intriguing to watch (as well as maw, paw, and engulf.)
	And although the assault against her was regarded as vile and horrendous—there was no denying the talent the man had.  The assault against her body was an unwanted invasion—but, never before had she been brought to the brink of sexual bliss.  As much as she tried to renounce the “good feelings” she was receiving, there simply was no denying the chaotic disorder the man’s cock was delivering unto her.
	And like a teenager, Rain had stamina and drove his train down the track sending the woman not only to the brink of sexual bliss but over.  She came.  She did cum and have sexual bliss with her husband but not to the degree the man dealt her.  It was incredible.
	As she melted into her bed, the man who had defiled her and soiled her pulled out and rested his cock against her.  Dora heaved and tried in vain to “get a grip.”  But the sexual bliss she had just experienced thrived within her, confused and confounded her until at last she just submitted and relaxed.
	Very slowly and did Rain inch his way up the heaving woman’s body.  She had careened her head off of the side of the bed as she lay width wise across it.  Her legs flailed about but her arms were pinned underneath her—secured (by tape).  She languished in the aftermath of bliss fighting a horde of emotions on both sides of the Good and Bad.
	Rain nestled himself on top of the woman’s chest slapping his foul cock between her more than ample breasts.  Dora was barely aware.  Slowly he began gliding his cock between her tits having to take a holt of her hair to bring her up and begin “kissing” the head of his cock freshly pulled from her cunt.

	After a few minutes of working on Rain’s hellish cock and it was once more sufficiently hard—albeit very much in some agony, Rain dismounted pushing Dora off the bed and taping her ankles tightly together.  A quick step into the bathroom for some freshening up and then he came to stand blatantly before Emily.
	The little girl had been crying but was all cried out.  Her hair was in wisps across her forehead and down into her very pretty eyes.  Those pretty eyes went from Rain’s manly manhood up his chiseled body to his face.  Rain smiled at her and stroked his cock before her, flopped and waggled it then inched forward pressing the freshly cleaned prong to her sweet innocent face.
	 Emily shook her head—she didn’t want to kiss it as the man was instructing her to do so.
	“Kiss it, sweetie, and I want hurt you Mommy.”
	This of course raised fear in the little girl preempting her from following thru with the desired request.  The EMAD had to come into play and it was a bit tricky—he wanted the girl to “be herself” but he also wanted her controlled and compliant.  That took a few minutes work.  Meanwhile,
	Lights flooded the outside briefly and a car door slammed.
	Ut-oh!  Daddy’s home!
	“Shit piss fuck motherfucker!”

	A bevy of “Hellos” filled the house as Edward Glenn Gottwat made entrance.  He was surprised that his loving daughter hadn’t come charging to him to give him his daily Welcome Home Daddy! hug.  He was more surprised when a naked stranger was suddenly standing in the hallway.
	“What the fuck?” was all Ed was able to come out with before he felt a sudden assault.  He described it as a feeling of being pushed without the physical force accompanying it.  Then a brilliant bright light filled his mind but only briefly—then there was nothing but inky black nothingness.

	A terrific headache had Ed, his mind was more than frapped; the refrigeration unit for the latest project he was working on had failed at a critical time.  The entire project was over budget and there were two men on his team being let go due to budget constraints.  
	Big whigs from the Pentagon were flying in for inspection of his pet project; NASA twerps were on their way, too.  

 	The project just wasn’t ready.  His wife wanted new furniture, a whirlpool for the backyard pool, a new car.  His daughter wanted a new bike and she deserved one, his wife deserved the new car—but the new house had eaten up a lot of their savings and if he couldn’t get his project working and approved--
	His daughter—Emily.
	Blinking his eyes he stared and stared and stared.  Daughter Emily was on his bed.  Daughter Emily on his bed was naked!  Well, partially so; her breeches and panties were at her ankles, her top was pushed up to her head!  The girl was with her ass up, legs open as far as they could go with the restriction of her clothes at her ankles, and head was down.
	Ed couldn’t breathe.  “What the fu--” he couldn’t fathom what was going on, either.  Then he noticed his wife, Dora, taped up with duct tape he had been using to fix the duct work in the garage.  SHE was nude!  Completely and bound hand and foot by the tape.
	Glen shook his head, stared down to find that he himself was bound hand and foot.  It made no sense.  What was going on!?  Closing his eyes tightly he looked up after he hoped he had cleared his head he saw a man.  A naked man.  A man he didn’t know.  His breath began to leave him and extreme confusion confound him.
	Before he could ask, “Who the FUCK are you!?” the man put a hand on Emily’s ass.  The man put a hand on Emily’s ass and began rubbing.  A huge lump formed in Ed’s throat—he struggled to breath and his eyes went from the naked man’s hand to his daughter’s ass to the naked man’s cock and his daughter’s hand on the naked man’s cock!
	“Oh my God!” Ed exclaimed.
	Then suddenly he realized—he hadn’t reset the external component analyzer—that would have cause the readout display not to recognize that the refrigeration unit was not working!
	The stranger was on the bed, petting Emily’s bare ass.  The stranger on the bed petting Emily’s bare ass was getting his cock stroked by Emily.  The stranger on the bed pried open Emily’s ass, fingered the hole and brought Emily to the edge of bed—closer to her bewildered Dad.
	Ed groaned.  A long-long near mournful moan.  His eyes were fixated on Emily’s ass.  A succession of blinking eyes and he missed Emily’s mouth kissing and then sucking on the stranger’s cock.
	The internal component regulator was subjected to variable temperatures; adjusting the flow of coolent would help along with the installation of heat exchangers most likely mechanical or liquid gel.  Reorientating the VC kinetic thrust analyzer could in effect--

	His thoughts were interrupted by a sound—unfamiliar at first but then slowly recognizable.  Spanking.  Blinking his eyes and turned his head to gather in more of the spanking sound—he saw his wife’s ass up in the air and the naked stranger (with a boner) was swatting her ass.
	Swat!  Swat!  Swat!
	Then the stranger smoothed his hand over Dora’s ass before plunging a finger into her hole.  Then, he moved in to block the view of Ed and began pumping—his balls slapping against Dora’s ass resuming the “slapping” sound he had heard in the beginning.
	All he could do was stare in disbelief with utter confusion still reigning supreme.  What was going on?  It was too confounding; baffling and perplexing were no where close to making it clear enough for Ed to understand what was going on.
	The naked stranger (with a boner buried into his wife’s ass) turned himself and Dora so as Ed could see the side view.  Dora looked only once to her bewildered husband then turned to face the wall as the naked stranger fucked her asshole.  

	Rear Admiral Coozmon wasn’t going to be pleased with the latest delays; General Ultz wouldn’t like the new financial figures OR the request for more money!  An upstart asswipe from the Whitehouse was on a tear and looking to score points with his superiors and was on a cost cutting measure doing away with most of Ed’s resources.  His pet project was just about doomed.
	Then he was standing.
	He felt the a/c air hitting his face and that helped.  He was pretty sure that he could sway the Admiral, the General on the other hand wouldn’t be so easy to loosen the Pentagon’s purse strings.  The upstart asswipe from the Whitehouse was another matter that Ed would like to see launched into space instead of his project.
	Looking down and there was Dora, naked, on her knees, sucking his cock!
	What!?
	She never sucked his cock!
	It was unbelievable!
	“Dora!”
	Dora didn’t stop in her task but took all of her husband’s average cock in her mouth and sucked-sucked-sucked.  His attention went from his wife’s bobbing on his knob to the naked stranger who was poised behind her.
	“Who the fuck are you?”

	Rain smiled at the confused man and shoved his fuck stick into Dora’s decent tight cunt.  Ed slung his head and felt a little ill, the air from the air vent in the ceiling helped cool him but he was still hot.  And just as he felt a surgence in his loins—
	Dora stopped sucking and pulled away.
	Ed shut his eyes tight—but when opening them again he was no less clear on what the fuck was going on.  His daughter had turned herself over on the bed laying down.  Kicking off her breeches and panties she spread her legs and began fingering herself.  Ed couldn’t take his beleaguered eyes off of the act.
	After a few minutes, Emily stopped fingering her sex and came off of the bed, snagged up her panties and wiped her Daddy’s dick clean.  Then, while the naked stranger stood right at her head—she began sucking her own Daddy’s dick.  The naked stranger’s dick went up against her head humping into her hair.
	So close to orgasm had Ed been that in less than a minute or so of being sucked and did he blast off a massive wad of pent up cum.  It had been a couple of nights—three or four maybe since last he had tagged his wife; a week since he had been able to screw Dorothy Slumdigger, his secretary.
	The discharge was liberal and filled Emily’s mouth to capacity.  Getting off in pussy was one thing—getting off ramming an asshole was one thing; cumming off in a mouth was sensational!  Ed gave a mighty sigh of relief, farted, and pulled out to squirt the remainder of his ball juice all over his sweet daughter’s face.  He wasn’t truly aware of the offense and at the moment of ejaculation didn’t care.
	‘you like sucking your Daddy’s dick.’
	Emily beheld a confused face; she blinked her eyes and still was in the throws of disgust about the spunk in her mouth and on her face.
	Back onto the bed she went, legs open wide.  
	Rain began to finger the young girl.  She twisted some and was completely unrestrained.  ‘if you make a fuss, become a fuss, I will hurt your Mommy.’  Long pause, then; “do you understand?”
	Emily nodded and was willing to do “whatever” just so long as the naked stranger wouldn’t hurt her Mommy.  The EMAD had worked wonders on curbing her emotions; her Mommy was a little more taxing and had resolved herself into compliance without overtaking input from any electronic device.
	Daddy Ed was just too confused to accept verbal or electronic input.

	Rain moved into position—on top of Emily.  With his mighty schlong against her young pussy he began to skillfully hump and gouge.  Emily fussed but it couldn’t be helped.  There was some agony as the penetration began.
	‘you liked sucking your Daddy’s dick.’
	“NOOOOooooo!” screamed out Dora suddenly from behind him.
	The woman was still taped up tightly but she was managing to wriggly loose a little bit.  Her eyes were very big as she stared at the horror on her bed.  There was some fright, horror, shock, dismay, and angry all rolled into one.  Rain poked his cock into the little girl’s pussy making the head disappear.  Dora was in fits but bound tight enough not to be a threat.
	‘you want to suck your Daddy’s dick—everyday!’
	Rain mustered all his strength to jam his cock into the girl; she cried out in her agony then clung to the bed as the might cock of Rain Frisco penetrated her.
	Not all of it, Rain’s pud was slender but not pencil-like, it was long and hearty and very cunt pleasing to most cunts.  He managed a decent three and a half inches before deciding to hold back and not tear the child up.  He began an earnest pumping making sure the girl’s Mother watched.
	When he pulled out some minutes later he emptied a very generous and plentiful amount of jiz onto the the girl’s poon.  Exhaustion nearly took him out—his cock was steaming and he had nothing left.  Emily’s Daddy was still bewildered but almost coming around.  What he saw just didn’t make sense.  Dora was out of her mind.
	‘come lick the cum off your daughter’s pussy.’
	He tried some minding instructions but they lacked cohesion.  The woman had a strong mind and wouldn’t accept the “new way of life.”  Rain insisted that she lick Emily’s pussy “or I’ll hurt her.”
	Dora didn’t think for a minute that the naked stranger wouldn’t.  Leaning in she lapped up the spilled spunk vowing that somehow—someday, she would see the man swinging by his balls.
*

Stolen painting found by tree (see, and you just thought trees were good for shade!)
	Not too much further from the abandoned railroad station was an abandoned barn.  Some outbuildings of one type and or another, no farmhouse but there was a corral where the lodge poles were mostly all on the ground.  No one had been there in a long-long time.  Well, no one there for the purposes of living there tending to horses and whatnot.
	There was evidence of teenagers—beer cans, bottles, blankets, firepits, articles of clothing.  Teens often came to the abandoned barn to party—there was very little to do in the town and/or county.  There were no hay bales to be had but makeshift pallets worked just as well.  Big Bob Heely held the naked Ellen Shoveitinme and took her inside the great 1880s barn.  The front door was completely gone but there were the two sides and the rear plus the loft and partial roof.
	Helga enjoyed prancing about in her skin.  She loved the sun and was giddy and what was about to happen to Emily.  The young girl was still very muchly under the control of Helga’s EMAD.  So was Big Bob—but not so much.  
	Big Bob wasted no time; he was partly on his own will and partly unknowingly controlled.  A simple gaze to Ellen and Big Bob was on her crushing her pussy with his more than manly cock.  There was no holding back and Helga squatted beside watching her Dad’s big dick shovel into the young girl.
	Using Ellen’s panties, Big Bob’s big dick was cleaned off and Helga happily sucked it into submission.  It took a little doing to get it hard again but Helga didn’t mind.  A new feeling seemed to envelope her, it felt like a new level of perversion had come to be; a new nuance to their sexplotion had come and Helga reveled in it.
	She had gotten her Dad to kidnap and fuck a young girl.
	Wow.
	Double wow.
	Big Bob was easily swayed into Helga’s demented world leaving Helga to wonder just how much further she could take him.  She wondered, too, about herself.  How much further into depravity could she sink to?
	Oh well; after sucking her Dad’s schlong into a pleasing hardness, Helga kept it hard by licking the bung hole of little Ellen.  Bob fondled his balls and was acting pretty much totally on his own.  The minding device was “not in use” at the time and in the truck.  Bob was acting on his own!  Amazing!
	Helga licked and fingered Ellen’s crapper; the young mindless girl lay on her stomach; Helga pulled the cheeks open and Big Bob’s cock went to the girl’s hole like a guided missile.
	Penetration into the virgin chute wasn’t a go—not right off.  Determination, though, made it so.  The incursion took a little doing and a little time—mostly he was satisfied with just getting the head of his cock passed the rim.  Helga, on the other hand, wanted to see as much of her Dad’s big dick ramming away INTO the girl’s hole.

	After much buggering and spanking of little Ellen, she was cleaned up, and Helga licked her pussy driving her already shagged out Daddy insane.  Helga, of course, sat on Ellen’s face, farted, then peed.  Big Bob was beside himself with his daughter’s antics.  He was getting more action with her than he was with his own wife!
	Ellen was finally returned to society; her body and mind not quite the same.  With the minding device the horror of what had actually happened to her was obliterated—Helga hoped.  She was not returned to the bus stop she had last been at but to the one at the entrance to town—walking distance to wherever she wanted to go.
	Bob and Helga returned home to find Miriam in the midst of baking; cookies, pies, fudge—a few of her new girlfriends were over and neither Bob or Helga were in the mood to be chatty or social.  They weren’t rude but didn’t linger too long and made for their own rooms and sanctuary.

It’s not what you think (and then again maybe it is)
Raising teenagers is like nailing jelly to a tree
	It was bound to happen—and it did.  Some hours before sunrise and Helga found Big Bob just as horny as ever.  In the kitchen they had met for a before sunrise snack.  They also had some left over chicken and milk!  Helga’s attire was nothing more than long tee-shirt that went just to mid thigh.  Bob was in tee-shirt and boxers.
	After munching their snack, Helga stood at the sink pre-washing their dishes.  Daddy Bob came up behind her getting up rather close.  Helga found him with a raging boner pressed against her.  She smiled and gushed and felt her cunny tingle.  Slowly she inched up her shirt.  Big Bob caressed her sides but it wasn’t her sides he was after.
	Along with the hum of the refrigerator there was the slurping sounds of Helga suck-suck-sucking away at her Dad’s dong.  He stood rocking on the balls of his feet, head thrown back, back arched, shuddering as incredible sensations of extreme pleasure consumed him.
	Helga loved cock.  She didn’t regard it as foul or even gross—she loved the taste!  She loved the texture and everything about giving head.  But there was more to it than that; it was the fact that she WAS giving head and that “head” was her Dad’s!  The cock she sucked was marvelous.  More than that; it was sensational!  It was HUGE; thick, long, powerful, and often squirted gobs of fresh hot spunk.
	But Big Bob had been “squirting” quite often of late and it took some doing to get him to blow his load.  Helga’s sucking was good but failed at length to get Big Bob off.  That was okay, there were two other holes…

	With two more available holes, the two miscreants made way to Helga’s room and they were “gettin’ busy” with Big Bob boning Helga’s ass when—
	“OH MY GOD!”
	Miriam.
	Bob whirled about facing his stunned wife.
	“It’s not what you think!” Bob blurted.
	Miriam couldn’t get her breath.  Helga stood up (from being on all fours) and tried to say something—but there was nothing to say.  She was stark naked and apparently willing.  Miriam struggled to get a grip and when Bob moved towards her—she freaked the fuck out.
	Kicking and screaming were just a part of Miriam’s rant; she also screamed.  Helga experienced a flood of emotions all at one time—it was overload.  One fleeting thought came—the EMAD.  Now, where was it?  With her Mom in a high state of pissed off among other emotions it was doubtful that the minding device would be able to satiate her—but it was worth a try.
	Out of her bookbag Helga secured the nifty mind altering gadget—
	And Miriam saw it.
	So did Bob.
	Both parental units stared at the handsized object and both knew instantly what it was.
	“What the fuck, Helga?” Bob asked in his gravely voice.  He knew he had been duped but confusion reigned supreme with him holding him back a little.
	“Helga, is that one of those minding things?” Miriam asked in her high pitched 1960s flower child voice.
	Helga experienced an emotion she wasn’t comfortable with—nervousness.  Her persona was one of “bully”; she was usually confident in her moves and motives.  Being nervous wasn’t something she was used to.  A wave of fear overwhelmed her and caused her to inadvertently press sensor buttons on the Device’s console she had not pressed before.
	What the actions of Helga Jane Heely had done via the EMAD were she didn’t know—both her parental units were still—motionless, quiet, dead still.  More fear overwhelmed Helga and in a sheer panic (it’s always a sheer panic isn’t it?) she fled.  Out the window and away.  Panic held her by the hand and led her across the sandy property to the fence—through the fence and out into the surrounding meadow.  What had she done?  What had happened?

	She felt sickened.  It had gone all wrong and it was all her fault.  That sucked.  That sucked royal frog breath.  And the EMAD?  She had dropped it and it shattered.  That further fucked her mind and put the fear factor deep into her soul.
	There was nothing to do but run—so she did.

*

To do is to be--Descartes; To be is to do--Voltaire; Do be do be do—Sinatra
	The lounge act was one octave above lousy.  But they did alright to pass the time.  He was into his fourth Tom Collins when the lounge act, Gracie and the Four Feathers, started doing Frank Sinatra tunes.  They were sort of good—they knew the words anyways.
	When the lead singer, a gal, started with the “Doo bee doo bee doo” song, time to leave.  Time to hit the restroom anyways.  On his way, he saw a gal he thought was Kellie.  He missed her.  The casino was too crowded, though, and he quickly lost sight of her.  After his pee and thought of maybe having Kellie paged.  Then dismissed it and plopped in front of a slot machine to think.
	The Gottwat family was still on his mind; for pure shock therapy, or something close, he fucked Dora Jean’s brains out (or something close) while Edward Glenn sat bewildered with his naked daughter, Emily, on his lap—his cock embedded nicely up the girl’s asshole.
	The man just didn’t get it.
	Rain used that to his advantage as the powers magnificent regarding the minding device just weren’t up to par.  Dora was just about out of her mind but he was mindful not to trust her lest he find a nine iron upside his head.  And that would be bad.
	After a good doinking and cum blast, Rain pulled out and off.  Then he had little Emily come clean off her Mom’s cummy cunt.  While her disorientated Dad watched on, Rain spanked the girl and had her suck his cummy cock, too.
	‘you want your daughter to suck your cock every morning.’
	‘when you come home from work—you want to fuck your daughter.’
	Whether or not the subliminal message would stick or not remained to be seen.  Messages al la subliminal were stuffed into Emily and her Mother.  It all took time leaving Rain very worn out by the time morning type time came.  He had enjoyed watching Ed put it to his daughter—the girl was only partly overwhelmed by Rain’s nifty device.  It was fear that prompted her to continue on with the horribleness of sexual antics.

	Worked for Rain!
	Dora was mostly out of her mind and just went thru the motions of following thru whatever was presented to her.  Instilling naughty notions of allowing her husband and daughter to carry on a sexual relationship also remained to be seen.  She herself would have sexual tendencies for Emily.
	The big thing was having the three family members not “see” Rain.  It was a form of invisibility—he was there but to the Gotwatt family he was “not there.”  And just in case it didn’t work there was a safety backup button that would zap the family Gotwatt rendering them blindsided and very zombie-like.  Mindless.  It should be only temporary but Rain wasn’t sure.
	After taking a needful shower with Emily (why would he take one with Dora, that would be silly!) he watched as the family adapted to their new way of life—going naked and having illicit sex.  They did so but did so slowly as if they were “thinking.”  Made Rain proud, though, when naked Emily went to her knees in the hallway and sucked her Dad’s dick.  Dora stood behind her daughter watching with the “invisible” Rain behind her—right behind her.
	‘when you come home tonight, Ed, fuck your daughter’s ass—fill it to the rim with jizim!’
	And there would be no more shutting the door for nookie with the wife, either—little Emily could come right in and join in!  A nice wholesome family.  
	Ed went on to work and Rain took Dora in the hallway, then in the kitchen, then; buggered Emily while she licked out her Mom’s cummy cunt.  Another shower—this time WITH Dora, and Rain took his leave of the family.

	At $300 a pull, it wouldn’t take long to siphon thru his cash.  Two pulls later, though, and he hit it for $1,200.  That was a plus.  Another pull and nada—three more pulls ate up the gained profit and it kept getting worse from there.  After $3,000 in and not much to show for it, Rain stepped away.  Maybe the Gracie was on a break and he could settle in the dim light sipping something tropical.
	He was at the end of the aisle when a large elderly lady started screaming.  Bells and whistles were going off and security mooks were hauling ass passed Rain.  Turning around and the elderly woman was dancing an Irish jig in the aisle—she had just hit the jackpot on the slot machine Rain had been feeding.
	He didn’t even want to know what the jackpot was and made his way to the lounge.
	Hardly anyone in the lounge, including Gracie.  Settling down at a table in a corner where it was nice and gloomy, Rain brooded.  He was getting ansy and the feeling of “moving” on plagued him.  He had enough money to fix up the truck and there was no real reason to stay.  The trailer was nice—well, not nice-nice but it would do.  The civil defense shelter beneath the trailer was a neat extra.  But there was some sort of calling, something somewhere else beckoned him.  He felt at times it was the desert but he didn’t know why or what part.
	One drink—three drink—five!  His head was swimming and he still brooded.  He had one more comp(ensation) at the casino.  Once more as he traipsed thru the casino he saw a woman who (from the back) looked like Kellie.  His first response was to resist and let her be, she was probably better off.  Then he was chasing her down to find out that she was not Kellie.
	“Fuck shit piss sonofabitch!”
	Flopping onto his bed he lay—brooding.
	That lasted an hour and he was up walking down the street to the all-nite liquor store.  A bottle of whiskey, a skin mag, potato chips and he was out the door.  Two men came out from the darkness of the alley between the store and the service garage next to it.
	“Give me your money, bitch!” shouted the taller one.
	“Give me a reason.” returned Rain still swimming from the five Tom Collins’ he had had in the casino lounge.  He reeled and stepped back—narrowly missing the switchblade the short thug whipped out suddenly.  The tall thug feigned striking Rain who ducked out of the way—but didn’t miss the upper cut and the knee kick from shorter thug.
	Rain was in no condition to “fight” but he made a good attempt.  Thug One, Rolland “Slash” Bosco, embraced Rain sending his knee into Rain’s balls.  Thug Two, Armando “Two Toes” Hernandez, sent his blade into Rain’s side.
	The wind was already out of Rain—he didn’t need the offense of being stabbed, too.  With one hand over his bleeding wound he swung madly and widely and Armando—his swing went wide smacking instead the telephone pole.  Rolland laughed and swung Rain around shoving him against the stucco wall of the garage and punching him in the stomach.
	Rain hugged the man like in a boxing match but stumbled crashing to the ground landing on top of the thug.
	“Get the fuck off me, bitch!” Rolland said angrily and shoved Rain’s near dead weight off of him.  Rain rolled onto the ground sputtering some blood.  It was already dark out and more darkness was coming to his eyes.

	Armando began to chortle and whoop,
	“Fuck, lookee ‘ere!” he said dancing and waving a long wallet.
	“Holy fuck, this bitch is loaded!”
	Rain tried to say something but blood was filling his mouth.
	“See what else this motherfucker gots!”
	Rolland kicked Rain’s legs, “What else you got, motherfucker?”
	“A case of whoopass--” Rain sputtered.  His words, though, were drowned in his blood.
	Rolland frisked the dying man finding a nice watch, ring, and then—
	“Whoa!” the twenty-three year old street thug stood up holding an object in his grimy hands.
	“What the fuck is that?” Armando asked.
	The two thugs were quiet a moment and then managed to open the covering case.
	“No fucking way!”
	“Son-of-a-bitch!”
	Rain groaned—this was not working out well at all.

	“How’s this work?” demanded Armando.
	Rolland kicked at the near lifeless man, “Fuck, he’s dead.”
	“Goddamn it!” cussed Armando.  The EMAD was a hell of a find.
	“Packard gonna shit when he sees this!”
	“He’ll take it.”
	“Yeah, but maybe we’ll score points.”
	“Yeah, we’re pretty far down on the shit list of flunkies.”
	The two thugs examined the minding device but had no idea how it worked.  Armando kicked Rain—he didn’t move.  Just then the lights of a car came up to the curb to the liquor store—Rolland and Armando fled down the alley.

Antidisestablishmentarianism - easier done than said
The Thirteen
	Jeb Harlan like moonshine.  So did a lot of folk in Boone County, Chester, Gilmore, and Stanis (to the east).  Jeb Harlan owned and operated the only moonshine still in the tri-county area—plus Stanis.  He changed his location from time to time, but mostly Johnny Law left Jeb alone but had to make face when tea tottlers and do-gooders got uppity and demanded action.
	During the War, Jeb Harlan lost a foot, his driving/accelerator foot.  It didn’t particularly slow Jeb down but he usually left the transportation of his sweet mash to the likes of Packard Cassle.

	Packard had a high powered Charger that could (and did) outrun any (and all) police cars in the tri-state area.  Packard often hauled mash across state lines to thirsty customers in neighboring states.  He was good at what he did and had a numerous support staff.  Most the “staff” were helpers, some had “ears” tuned into police and federal radio bands.  Other helpers helped acquire parts for his cars, ran block while he hauled ass down the road and Smokey was on his tail; and some “flunkies” did side jobs on their own.
	Case in point, Rolland “Slash” Bosco—sub flunky #10 and 
Armando “Two Toes” Hernandez—sub flunky #11.  They were at the bottom of Packard Cassle’s list and did what they good to get in his good graces.  Rolland and Armando were in their early twenties, as were most of the “Thirteen.”  Packard Cassle was in his late twenties, about 27 or so.
	After knifing and leaving the man at the Burrelwood liquor store the two thugs hauled ass straight to Packard’s place in Gilmore.  That took two hours.  The boys arrived just at sunup finding most of the Thirteen elsewhere.  Three flunkies were working on cars.  Armando’s lanky tall frame clunked the hanging pully chains nearly giving him a concussion.
	“Smooth.” quipped his companion.
	“Fuck you!” shot back Armando.  He held his injured head and made way around the collection of cars heading for his leader’s private office.
	“Packer in?” Armando asked.
	“Yeah,” said Skank, flunky number four, “but he’s busy.”
	“Do Not Disturb!” said flunky number five, Gutterboy.
	“If you know what’s good for ya!” added the sixth flunky in line, Rugghead.  He stood grinning wiping clean a cylinder from an engine he and the other flunkies were installing into a newly “acquired” car.
	Armando knew what that meant—“he’s busy” “do not disturb” “if you know what’s good for ya!”  It meant the illustrious leader was fucking Sherilyn, his so-so willing/unwilling girlfriend.
	“This is important!” Armando said without saying what.
	“Your funeral!” returned Ruggy.
	Armando and Rolland made their way around the massive but cramped and cluttered garage to the stairs and to their leader’s private office.  The two men did pause before knocking.  The windows were concealed with blinds and drapes and a light above the door shielded in a wire mesh protective cage was on.  That meant “don’t you dare disturb me!”
	But Armando knew that Packard would want to know about what he had gotten from the man they had rolled in Burrelwood.  Holding his breath he rapped his knuckles to the white washed pine door.

	“I think I’ll go to the bathroom.” Rolland said.
	Armando rapped again—more earnestly.
	Rolland shuffled his feet and backed up, “Maybe we should wait.”
	Packard was seldom in a good mood—only when hauling ass down the road with half the fleet of police cars from all three counties, plus one, did Packard smile and be merry.
	“He’s gonna be pissed.” Rolland said already knowing.  “He’s gonna shove a 350 (engine) up our ass!”
	Armando sighed and had second thoughts on disturbing his leader when the blinds of the window by the door opened and a pissed off haggard face peered out.
	“We are so fucking dead!”
	Armando clutched the minding device and hoped it would soothe and smooth over Packard’s pissed offedness.
	The door swung open and a tall, lean, muscular man two inches taller than six foot even Armando stood glaring.  Looking up to the light above the door, “You fuckin’ blind?” he asked.
	“Packer, we got something.” said an almost energetic Armando.
	“You better have my cam gear!” barked the disturbed Packard.  The man was half dressed with just a half bathrobe about his waist.  A few chest scars, no tats, no jewelry.  He was lean, muscular, a rock.  He had become the leader of the Thirteen ‘cause he earned it.  No one messed with him—no one dared.
	“We got sumptin’ better, Packer!” brightened Armando producing the EMAD.
	“What the fuck’s this?”
	“A minding device, Packer, you know, an EMAD!”
	Packard took the offering, looked it over, opened the casing, and ogled.
	“Where’d the fuck you two losers get this?”
	“We rolled a mook in Burrel.” said Rolland.
	“He didn’t have any cash--”
	“Lost it all at the casinos!” quipped in hurriedly Rolland.
	“Yeah,” chortled Armando, “fuckin’ Injuns scalped his ass!”
	The bottom-of-the-barrel flunkies stood trembling, sweating, and hoping they had brown nosed enough to gain points.
	“Not bad.” Packard said with an “almost” smile.  Backing up into his office he kept turning the device over.  Armando and Rolland followed in.  The “office” was more like an apartment living room with an office desk occupying space at one side with books, ledgers, filing cabinets, etc.

	There was a small kitchenette of which Packard told his two low level flunkies to “help yourself to a brew.”  That almost never happened.  It was a rare privilege to be invited into Packard’s office and even rarer to be offered a “brew.”
	“How’s this work?” Packard asked.
	Oh shit.
	“You shit heads don’t know how this works?”
	Armando and Rolland felt sick and nervous again as they stood in Packard’s mini kitchen holding high quality exported beer.
	“Where’s the turd you got this from?”
	There was an exchange of looks between the two men.
	“Uh, he sort of--”
	“He sort of—WHAT?” Packard demanded.
	“Died.” Rolland supplied.
	“You shit heads!”
	“He fought back, Packer,” Rolland said in defense, “he didn’t have any money so’s we had to get rough with him--”
	“Yeahs, we gots his fuckin’ watch and wallet--”
	“How much was in the wallet?”
	“’bout ten grand!”  shit.  The truth was out of his mouth before he knew.  Tripped up by Packard the pro at getting the truth.
	Armando felt his bowels loosening.
	“Where’s the money?”
	Rolland slowly pulled out the wad of cash and handed it over—nearly getting whacked by Packard.
	“It’s short.”
	“We got some smokes and stuff.” Rolland explained.
	“And gas!”
	“Yeah, it’s a long ways out to Burrelwood.”
	Packard stuffed the money in his robe and continued going over the minding gadget.  “So you two turd buckets whacked the guy who knew how to work this thing?”
	Armando rolled his shoulders, “We didn’t know--”
	“You don’t know shit!” Packard bitched.  Then,
	“Get over here!”	
	Armando reluctantly eased over to his leader.
	Packard pulled back the flap of his robe and there was nine inches of fuck stick.  It was semi hard, curved like a banana, and dripping cum.
	Armando knew what to do and went to his knees, closed his eyes and took his leader’s cock into his mouth.

	A glaring look from Packard to Rolland; then,
	“Take yer fuckin’ clothes off!”
	Rolland stripped off his clothes and went over to a thickly covered green footstool and positioned himself there on it—guiding his own mediocre fuck stick into a hole.  Packard grunted and fucked his flunky’s mouth a minute or two—then pulled out and slapped Armando “Two Toes” Hernandez’s face before positioning himself behind Rolland.
	“Take off your clothes!” Packard said over his shoulder as he plunged his meat into the twenty-two year old’s asshole.  It had been there before.  Rolland let out a yeowl, fluttered his eyes and tried not to clench—
	“Stop clenching!” demanded Packard.  Just about every inch of his meaty meat stick was in the young man’s ass.  Rolland’s cock was in a hole in the footstool; it was up just the right height to lay across and be somewhat comfortable; the hole was void of any dangerous metal springs and filled instead with very soft fabric.
	Gripping the young man’s ass, Packard Cassle “put it to” his lower subordinate and fucked him hard.  Armando went and sat on the nappy green sofa, inching forward on the cushion until his cock was at Rolland’s mouth.  No words, no commands—Rolland took the not-very-hard cock and began sucking it.

	Sitting back sucking on a brew with one hand and going over the non-operational minding device, Packard watched with some maniacal malevolence as his two low class flunkies engaged sexually with one another; Rolland’s smoldering sphincter newly buggered by Armando.  Armando had a more decent dick than that of Rolland—seven inches and thick.  It was buried to the hilt up Rolland’s funk hole as the young man sat on Armando’s lap.
	Packard got lost in thought trying to finger out why the minding device in his hands didn’t work.  Then there was a rap-rap-rap at the door.  Packard rolled his eyes—‘don’t anyone pay attention to the fucking light!?’
	At the door was another flunky, the two men conversed and Packard dashed back into a room down the hall and dashed out without saying a word—he had put on a shirt, pants, and shoes.  All the while the leader was dressing, Rolland and Armando dove over the sofa and huddled there.
	After Packard left, the two naked men looked to one another.
	“What should we do now?” Rolland asked.
	Suddenly Armand and Rolland heard Packard’s Firebird fire up.
	“He’s on a run.” Rolland said.

	Standing up they made their way to the window and carefully peered out and sure enough—Packard was tearing out of the garage with mechanics, Skank, Gutter, and Ruggy piled in with him.
	“They going after a ride.” Assumed Rolland.
	“Most likely.”
	After a brief pause and reflection of their actions the two discovered that their leader had tossed the EMAD.  
	“I think it was a bad call to bring this to him.”
	Rolland had to agree.
	They had had no success in getting the thing to work, either, but thought maybe Packard would have better insight.  He didn’t.  Armando sighted in on the beer he had left on the counter when Packard got pissy.  He snagged it and downed—quick.
	Rolland grabbed his and equally killed the brew going to the fridge grabbing two more.
	“Death wish!” chortled Armando.
	“If I die--I go out buzzed!” giggled back Rolland.
	The two downed two more essentially emptying the refrigerator of the specialty brews before heeding the call of nature.  Both stood naked at the toilet in the hall bathroom—something was on their mind.  It took them a couple more minutes then they slowly crept down to the end of the hall to the bedroom there finding Sherilyn Jonnson laying sprawled out naked on the bed.
	“Holy shit!” it wasn’t many times that either Rolland or Armando saw Sherilyn Johnson naked—like never.  They saw her sometimes in her underwear, a skimpy short-short dangerously short cut-off jeans, but naked?  Wow.  That was a no.
	She was hot!
	Nice red hair, perfect skin, perfect titties that were ski slope and not orbs; and a nice smooth hairless pussy.  All the boys could do was stand at the threshold and ogle.
	Then they were stroking themselves and making noise about it.  Wisely they scurried back to the bathroom where they began humping one another on their own.  
	“God-fucking-damn it!” bitched Rolland.
	“What?”
	“That fucking mind thing, if it worked--”
	“No shit,” then, “why?”

	Rolland stared at his dimwitted friend explaining, “if it fucking worked we could--” he smiled nodding his head towards the bedroom down the hall.
	“Death wish, motherfucker, deathwish!”
	“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be cool!  Fucking your boss’ bitch!”
	This only caused the two horndogs to beat their meat against one another before Rolland whirled Armando around and shoved his fuck stick into his hole.
	Two minutes later and it was Armando’s turn.

	Rolland held the device—it was not unlike a fancy remote control; not very wide but with a large head or top part.  It was smooth black almost silk-like, kinda heavy, solid, no seams.  And no operating manual.
	“Man, if we could get this thing to work--”
	“If we could get this thing to work—Packer definitely owes us!”
	Suddenly, the EMAD came to life!
	Well, a part of it.
	A small readout on the top portion became illuminated reading:
	NEW USER---READY---
 	THUMB PRINT IDENTIFICATION READY---
	Rolland blinked his eyes and was suddenly nervous.
	Armando wrinkled his nose and thought—then thought harder.
	Turning the Device just so and the light of the room showed the faint outline of a small square and what looked like a thumb print.  Armando thought—thought and thought some more then pressed his thumb to the outline.  Suddenly the Device came to life with readouts and dials and everything.
	“Jesus!” shouted Rolland.
	“Sweet sorry sonofabitch!”
	They still didn’t know how the gadget worked, though.
	That didn’t stop them from trying.

	DEVICE IS READY FOR USE---
	That still didn’t clue Armando or Rolland in on how the minding device worked.  It was a bit overwhelming to say the least.  The digital readout looked like the dashboard of the fancy electronics of a new car.  Neither had any clue whatsoever as to the operation of the Device, but there were prompts from the gadget:  Target Not Found---

	After careful thought—the boys carefully stood at the open door of Packard’s bedroom where the lovely naked Sherilyn Jonnson lay sprawled out.  
	TARGET ACQUIRED---
	There were three long windows at the top of the device that looked like the oscillation of a radio/sonar window.  Wavy lines in all three windows danced up and down then below in a separate panel were some lights:  green  red  yellow with an indicator show Strength of Acquisition.
	TARGET ACQUIRED---DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?
	The answer, of course, was a whole heartily HELL YES!  The fear of their Boss catching them never entered their minds.

	Sherilyn Jonnson had a fine body.  Very fine.  She was twenty-six, pretty tan all over, and was the finest girl either Armando or Rolland had ever seen!  She always smelled so nice!  She didn’t cuss, either.  What she saw in Packard wasn’t known but the two had been together for a couple of years.
	Armando held the Device—and held his breath, too.  Rolland firstly “tested the waters” by moving Sherilyn’s limbs; arm first and then a leg.  The fine young woman never awoke or made any indication that she was aware of any pending hanky-panky.  Rolland felt a little sick.  A little giddy but mostly he was ill.  The illness was from the fear of Packard finding out.  
	“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Rolland said being queasy-like.
	“Then move your ass over and let me go first!” bitched Armando.
	Rolland hammered his cock and denied his friend first dibs.  He came onto the sleeping girl, spread her legs and positioned himself between.  A long-long gaze did he submit to just staring and taking in the girl’s nakedness, her fine-fine body, her breasts, her breathing, everything.  
	Sherilyn made only the slightest awareness—a moan, as Rolland made penetration.  He watched her eyes fluttered and for a brief moment experienced fear.  If she should wake up while his bone was in her—death would be welcomed compared to what Packard would do to him.
	Once his cock was in her pussy, though, all fears were abated and the fucking began.
	“How is it?” giggled Armando.  Despite having “Mexican” heritage, both Armando and Rolland were bonefide backwoods redneck hicks.
	“Son-of-a-bitch if’in this aint the bestest pussy ever!”

	Armando masturbated and got very excited.  Rolland fucked fast and furiously achieving orgasm in just a couple of minutes—but it felt like five.  He melted completely after cumming; he lay heaving on the girl, sweating, panting, experiencing sexual bliss like never before.
	When Rolland pulled out, Armando “went down” on him!  He did!  He sucked his friend’s cock then licked out Sherilyn’s pussy full of cum before sinking his own dick into the girl’s forbidden cunny.
	“Bet that asshole’s tight, too!” Armando thought aloud.
	After a titty fuck, the unawares girl was turned over and the boys enjoyed spanking her before prying her cheeks open and drilling out her asshole with their fingers, tongues, and then their cocks one after another.
	And as a finale, they doubled teamed the woman for good measure.

“God is dead” - Nietzsche. “Nietzsche is dead” – God
	With a limited knowledge of how the minding device worked, low level thugs Rolland and Armando were beside themselves.  After having their time with Sherilyn they showered (together) then fled the garage.  They quickly trolled a nearby park but found no one worthy—besides, old men and women walking and dogs pissing.
	Down thru their town and to the schools, to the mini mall, and then the Cineplex.  There they found with the pizzeria and malt shoppe next door a bountiful supply of delightful delights.  Rolland had a hard-on hard enough to break bricks.  The Subjects they sighted in on were teenage girls, various ages, various sizes, various colors, breeds, and nationalities.  It didn’t matter to the two thugs.  The EMAD in their possession didn’t care, either.
	Thing was, though, the boys didn’t know how to exactly “acquire” their Subjects.  The minding device only subdued the mind of the Subject, it didn’t bring that Subject to them.
	“We gonna have to find one alone or something.” It pissed Rolland off who really wanted the Subjects lingering out in front of the movie theatre and the pizzeria place.
	Just after noon and a young girl walking along the street got the unwanted attention of Armando.  “Hey, check her!”
	Rolland nodded and pressed the appropriate buttons to the minding gadget as the car neared the Subject.  She was about twelve, dark hair to the middle of her back, turquoise jeans, tennis shoes.  She had a little Mexican in her but soon was to have two!
	So enthralled were the boys with their misbehavior they took no security precautions and were not aware of being observed.  They whisked their Subject to an area behind the abandoned warehouses and…

	It was an afternoon of sexual frivolity for Armando and Rolland, not so much for their young captive.  Being thugs, the two knew the area behind the abandoned warehouses; there was a chop shop there, a few places for druggies to gather, horny teenagers, and so on.
	The girl was at the mercy of the horndogs; she wasn’t as fully under the power of the minding device as she should be but neither Rolland or Armando knew any better or how to adjust the Device to make it better.
	For two hours the girl was molested; like with Sherilyn, Tiffany was raped firstly twice, then sodomized, then double teamed.  When done, the boys merely pushed the girl out of the car and left.  An hour later and they were back, though, with another young girl a little older than Tiffany.  And Tiffany was no where to be seen.  The boys didn’t care, they did to Annette what they had done to Tiffany including dumping her when they were done.

*insert “draw finger across throat” here
	A girl about ten was next, followed by a boy about ten, too.  Packard’s low life (er, low level) thugs were on a roll.  A thirteen year old girl they had and were in the midst of “doing” her just before midnight when—
	“Hello, boys.” said a voice from the darkness.
	Rolland was behind Darla Sholes, Armando was in her mouth squirting away.  The girl was only partially subdued.  The boys had to resort to brutal force to get her to comply.
	“Who the fu--” blurted Armando whirling around—just in time to see a fist cold cock him upside the head.  The force was pretty powerful and sent the naked thug to the ground.  Rolland broke free of Darla and tried to find his clothes and weapon.
	“You lookin’ for this?” the stranger said—and wavered a knife, the same one that had been used against him days earlier.  Rolland froze for a moment.  “Here,” continued the stranger, “you can have it back!” and with near expert flare sent the blade into Rolland’s throat.
	Jumping up, Armando charged the stranger and did manage to tackle him.  Rolland had his hands to his neck trying to stop the gushing blood.  Darla firstly had shrieked and freaked out some, but came up with the knife and stared the gasping man down—then thrust the blade into the man’s mouth slicing out the side of the mouth.
	Armando and the stranger rolled on the ground—which was a bit tougher on Armando as he was naked and the ground was infused with broken class, rusty nails and tacks, sharp rocks, and stickers.  A well planted knee to the naked man’s balls sent him reeling.  

 	The stranger jumped up quickly grabbing the man and shoving him to the old weathered wooden dock where splinters were aplenty.  A punch to the stomach then and upper cut to the chin.  Armando managed to get in a punch himself but his naked body was wrecked with stickers, rusty tacks, sharp pebbles, and broken glass bits.
	Whirling around, Rain in a karate move sent his boot clad foot into the chest of Armando “Two Toes” Hernandez, sub-flunky number eleven of Packard Cassle’s “Thirteen.”  The man stumbled back trying to catch his footing as well as his breath.  He collapsed onto a small set of wooden steps and lay there heaving unable to move.
	Rain popped his neck, stretched, then—
	“Get in.”
	Darla slowly moved to the pick-up truck and crawled shutting the door herself (without her clothes.)  After a brief search, Rain found his minding device, popped his neck again then settled into his truck.  At a phone booth at a liquor store, the truck parked at the curb out of sight of the store’s security camera, Rain made a polite phone call.
	“I believe the ones you seek you’ll find behind Warehouse Row.”
	There was a short pause on the other end; then,
	“Thank you for the information, Mr. Frisco.  Whatever you need, just ask.” The phone call concluded Rain got some quick supplies from the store then slowly rolled to an advantage point to see the final moments of Two Toes and Rolland “Slash” Bosco.

	Rolland’s life was nearly gone as the blood from the knife wound to his neck was too great for him to stop the flow of.  Armando gasped for life, too, but had fared better than his friend.  Then, 
	Lights flooded the area as three cars roared in.
	The slamming of doors was heard followed by the crunch of gravel from a small gathering—the gathering of the Thirteen.  Rolland rolled his eyes, his life was nearly over; he had found a grungy oily rag and wrapped it about his neck hoping to keep some of his blood from gushing.  Armando sat on the bottom step of the warehouse steps heaving and sputtering blood.
	“Well, well, well,” said a familiar voice, “what the fuck do we got here?”
	There was nothing that either imperiled thug could say.
	“I want his balls,” said another familiar voice.  Sherilyn stood at the side of Packard, just behind them in a semi circle were other members of the Thirteen, soon to be Eleven.  Packard clenched his fist—so pent up with rage he couldn’t speak.

	“And his dick.” added Sherilyn.
	“You fuckers,” said a very pissed off Packard, “you steal from me, you lie to me, and defile my property; death is too good for you.” Then he marched to Armando grabbing him by the hair jerking his head back.  Then angrily shoved the man to the ground kicking him.
	“Stand this piece of shit up.”
	Randy Simool, flunky number two; and Oggie Griffan, number seven on the flunky list, grabbed Armando standing him up.  Armando was dead weight and didn’t stand on his feet.  He was dragged to within a few feet of Sherilyn.  The twenty-six year old woman glared pure hatred into Armando.  Stoker Benton stepped forward and with a wire mesh string wrapped it about the testicles of Two Toes—and with a subtle nod from Packard cinched the garrote severing the man’s balls.
	Randy and Oggie dropped the man who wriggled in dying agony clasping the area where his balls used to be.  Sherilyn stepped forward and stepped on the severed fuzzies—squishing and squashing the nuggets thoroughly.
	“Oh, geeze, please, Packer!” begged and dying Rolland.
	“The lady says she wants your dick.” Packard said almost lightheartedly.  Rolland tried to back up while he was on his knees.  Randy and Oggie grabbed the man yanking him up to a standing position.  Surprisingly, despite the loss of blood, Slash Bosco had some fight in him.  Packard stepped up quickly and in a flash punched Rolland Slash Bosco in the stomach then kneed him as hard as he could.
	Rolland coughed, sputtered, and retched as his balls were nearly sent up into his throat.
	“You had anything you fuckin’ wanted, Slash,” bitched Packard, “I gave you and that other flunky free reign.”  Grabbing Rolland by the chin clenching it tight he continued berating the doomed man finally stepping back.
	Flunky Number Two, Randy Simool, stepped up to wrap the wire mesh around the man’s shriveled up penis.  Rolland whimpered, cried, and begged.  All to no avail as Packard nodded and Randy snapped the wire.
	“Do we leave ‘em here, Boss?” asked Randy.
	Packard was still too pissed to answer.
	“Throw them in the river.” Sherilyn said.
	The men grabbed the bodies of former flunkies and dragged them thru the tall unkempt grass to the Suskhanna River.  Thereafter, everyone got back in their rides and disappeared.

Country Club says Ok for Golf Pro to play with his own balls
	Entering Sucalotta County  Northvalley City Limity—10 miles
	It was just before sunrise when Rain rolled into Sucalotta County.  Nothing but lots of empty landscape dotted with giant boulders, a few homesteads (shacks and trailers) and not much else.  Scrub brush, wildflowers and wild weeds, lots of sand, wooden fences that protected nothing, and abandoned cars and trucks.
	On the right was pretty much the same but there was more landscape that eased to grass scruffy grass and rolling hills both plain and grass then woods.  HOUSE for sale, PROPERTY for sale, CABIN for sale signs also dotted the area; COME TO BURRELWOOD just five minutes north(east) of Northvalley, SEE OUR ACCLAIMED GOLF COURSE! Along with dozens of signs advertising the numerous casinos.
	The weather was turning, it was the Fall of the year and Summer storms still lingered.  In the desert areas, though, there were only two seasons—Summer and Almost Summer.
	After the big dip in the road and back up on the flat stretch to Northvalley, there was a dirt road stretching out to the right going to the rolling hills and the woods beyond.  Rain slowed almost missing the turn.  Along with wheels, tires, paint, upholstery, he needed better brakes for his truck, too.
	The road wasn’t well used but it was well established.  Clouds began to form and the air cooling dramatically—the scent of rain could be detected in the stirred up air.  Rain eased the old truck down the kinda rough road crossing an old wooden bridge and then up a small hill.
	Once over the hill the landscape changed—the woods were pines and cedars; a flat meadow with a huge almost unseen lake in the middle.  An old-old wooden fence sort of encircled the meadow.  The road split going straight along the meadow and another hill and left into the woods.  Just before the forest entrance and at the foot of the hill was a cabin.
	It was too much out in the open to truly suit Rain’s taste; it was kind of small but had possibilities just the same.  The remains of a vegetable garden on one side next to the hill with a propane tank nestle there, too.
	No one had been there in a long-long time.
	“Stay here.” Rain told his passenger as he pulled up to the lone cabin and got out.  From the porch he could see the road he had come in on as well as the main highway three miles away.  The door wasn’t locked.
	Inside it was musty, not one but TWO fireplaces.  There was electricity to the cabin and water was from a well.  The front room served as the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

	Rain liked it.
	The preference would be for a cabin less visible but he liked it.  There was a bathroom and a bedroom and a store room.  A back porch where jars and jars of veggies were stored on shelves.  An old fashioned soda freezer was there, along with garden tools, sacks of fertilizer, barrels of rain water and compost, rabbit cages.
	Lots and lots of TLC was needed; the toilet in the bathroom didn’t work, nor did the sink.  The refrigerator was 1950s style and needed a new motor and probably just replaced.  The stove was 1930s style with fold down warmer top.  The sink needed help, too.  Lots of work and Rain wasn’t sure he wanted to invest the time.
	But there was potential.
	The bedroom had a small Franklin stove, the living room was spacious.  He couldn’t shake it but there was something about the place that pulled him.  Lots of work, though.
	It was for sale, too.

	After getting the fire started in both fireplaces, Rain stood at the door and motioned for his passenger to come.  She didn’t even pause and still naked got out of the truck just making the cabin before the clouds opened.
	The temperature dropped only a few degrees; Rain stood behind the naked Darla Sholes caressing her.  The fire in the rock/stone fireplace was a nice one and gave off decent warmth.
	“I have to pee.” Darla announced.
	Rain popped his neck and gently took Darla by the hand escorting her passed the bathroom out to the back porch to where the overhang of the porch’s roof kept the pouring rain off while Darla stood with legs apart to pee.  
	After the hearty pent up pee she was led back into the cabin to the fireplace.  Rain slowly smoothed his hands over her young teen body, squeezing gently her young budding breasts and then down her smooth near lily white body to her deliciously young teen pussy.
	Darla held her breath as the man’s fingers touched her—she shuddered somewhat as his fingers touched her cunny.  She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think as the man caressed her.  Her beautiful blue eyes stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace lost in thought.  She knew that a different fate could have come about at the hands of the thugs had it not been for the man behind her.
	She owed him her life.

	The next thing she knew was—
	As the rain kicked it up a notch and peltered the cabin with a serious downpour, Rain Frisco gently-gently pushed Darla Sholes over to where she placed one hand on a knee and the other (on her own) pried a butt cheek open.
	Very slowly did Rain kick off his boots and then pull off his shirt and pants.  His cock throbbed hard and there was just a slight dull ache from where he had been stabbed by thug Armando Hernandez.  His cock went up against Darla’s ass, spanking it, prodding it, poking it.  Darla spread her legs and tried not to clench her asshole but it was an involuntary clench she couldn’t help.
	Rain was gentle.  He fingered the puckering hole and when he managed two fingers into the seldom fucked hole he guided his manhood in and began a full penetration.  Darla grunted, winced, and made haughting train-like chuff-chuff-chuffing noises as the man’s cock crammed its way all the way into her.  Soon and she was fingering herself with the hand that had been pulling her ass open.  New sensations were welling up within her, seething and tingling sending her to a new level of thrill she had never experienced before.

	Four new tires--$240
	New bench seat, floor mats, interior components--$180
	Side mirrors--$50
	Various engine components--$540
	Rustic cabin--$18,500
	Just a little under twenty thousand.  The cabin would require some work but it was doable--and it only took another $20,000 to do it.
	But Rain—and Darla, were satisfied.
	There was a lot of work to do, in between making the cabin more livable, Rain and Darla took a drive into the woods.  There were other cabins scattered deep within the interior of the woods—none were occupied and all seemed abandoned.
	A small lake was found; in any other setting it would be pristine—but not in the setting where it was set.  Huge pines and cedars circled the lake; ferns, logs, and boulders were also a part of that scenery.  It was quiet and still—lifeless.  Nothing stirred in the woods—no fish flopped in the lake.  And the lake—it wasn’t crystal clear but green.  It was spooky and freaked-creeped both Rain and his companion out.  They made a hasty retreat without exploring any further.
	The other road wound around the hill just kissing it with the long meadow on the right and trees lining it on the far side.  Some old abandoned mines were around the hill; an abandoned mining camp with old rusting mining equipment; some shacks possibly mining related, and the hills rolling just went on and on to the flat land beyond void of trees and life.
	With a new septic tank installed, plumbing followed and the cabin was more livable and comfortable.  It was a lot of work; cleaning, repairing, fetching parts and on and on—at night the two collapsed into the bed with only two times during the first week engaging in sex!
	And Darla barely had the need of any mind altering affect put on her at all.  She spoke and engaged in conversation with Rain; discussing color schemes for the cabin, picking out linens and accessories for the kitchen, bath, and bedroom.  She also helped pick out furniture which was mostly from yard sales in nearby Northvalley and at barn sales in the neighboring areas.
	Never once attempted to run away.
	She didn’t go nude all the time in the cabin, nor did Rain.  But clothing was an option.  When Rain wanted to have sex she willingly complied.  She performed oral as well as took his cock to her ass.  She submitted to being spanked but he didn’t spank her too hard.
	Rain felt comfortable enough with her to sleep.  He did instill upon her that she would be oblivious to the EMAD.  Much like with the Gotwatt family and his invisibility trick, the EMAD in plain sight was “not there” in Dora’s eyes.
	She was a good kid, Rain was able to carry on a conversation with her discussing worldly topics mostly about explorers, aliens, geology, things that were, for and against the legalization of marijuana.
	Dora had smoked pot but nothing else, no other drugs and she had had a few “beers” now and then but nothing stronger.
	Rain found himself growing attached to her.  She obeyed him but he didn’t really “command” her to do something—she was helpful and did things on her own.  She also participated in sex acts on her own including engaging her own initiative, Reverse Missionary, handjob, oral, and anal.
	Not using the EMAD, Rain probed her for her past, sexual tendencies, misbehavior, what have you.  Darla willingly supplied that as a babysitter of young boys—she sometimes got carried away and bathed with them.
	“Any sex—with the boys?”
	Yes!
	The boys were six year old twins.
	“Any other boys?”
	Yes, a boy of eight and his older brother who was ten—who caught her molesting the younger brother.  
	“And girls?  Anything with girls?”
	One girl her age, two girls who were not (younger—much younger.)
	The young girls were the young siblings of friends of Darla.  The girlfriends and Darla were also being naughty together.
	“So what happened?” Rain felt that there was something about the girl, something he needed to know.  After a week of working in the cabin sprucing it up and making it more livable, they took a walk into the woods.  There was a trail from behind cabin that meandered its way into the woods and the two managed to make their way easily enough.
	“So what happened?” inquiring mind not using an EMAD wanted to know.  “Get caught?”
	Sorta-kinda.
	“My step-dad, I caught him.”
	“Doing what?”
	Sitting on a perfectly to sit on small boulder, the girl crossed her arms and looked through the woods.  They were no less spooky than before but more tolerable.
	“I caught him molesting his daughter, his own daughter.”
	“How old was she?”
	“Six.”
	Wow.
	On her bed in her room, little Shelly sat on the side of her bed, panties at her ankles and naked otherwise, with her Daddy before her—hard cock in her mouth.  With his hand behind her pretty very blond haired head he helped move her back and forth along his schlong.
	Darla was appalled.
	New Daddy was pissed—at the interruption and being caught.
	After the confrontation—new got Darla in her room where he confronted her.
	“He knew.”
	“Knew what?”
	“About me, and the boys.” And girls.
	“Oh.”
	Oh.
	“Soooo, THEN what happened?”
	“He spanked me.”

	It was the general consensus among parental units that twelve was about the limit range for “spanking” their misbehaving children.  Seldom were children older than that disciplined via spanking.  Darla was spanked, pants on first—then,
	“He had me take my pants down.”
	“And did you?”
	“Yes.”
	Three or four more hard smacks later and,
	“Take ‘em down!” her panties.  New Daddy demanded her panties to be pushed down, too.
	Darla complied; by now, Rain had determined that Darla suffered from a miniscule amount of diminished mental abilities—but not so as you would know it.
	With panties down, new Daddy spanked Darla’s bare ass barehanded two to three times, maybe four.  Not very hard, though; but, all this time and his cock—his cock was still out of his pants!

	Darla went a little quiet after the telling of the bare ass spanking.  Rain let it go—he could guess.  They returned to the cabin, made lunch, then crashed on the new country sofa before the fireplace.  Rain needed to get back to the casino—he also desired to return to his “other” home in Boone County and touch basis again with Chris, Chris Highload, and help the boy satisfy his lust for his young brother’s 2nd grade class.
	But that was for later.  The desert still was calling him, the cabin and Darla—and Chris, were just a little detour.  What the desert held for him he didn’t know (but was willing to find out!)

*

Granddads are grand!  (and horny, too!)
	An amazing Inside Straight, a Full House, a Flush, Four of a Kind, and a Straight put Rain Frisco in a very good mood.  He lost a small amount, about a grand every other hand.  However, he won four times that with each of the aforementioned hands.  The slot machine the old woman had hit the jackpot on after he had left it warm for her called him and he sank quite a lot of money into it before getting pissed and stepping away.
	And on reflection of that old woman he plunked in more money and lo and behold hit the jackpot!  Like the old woman, he nearly had a stroke.  Unlike the old woman, though, he survived.  Rain’s old truck got a bit of a makeover; new lights, paint, steering wheel, carpeting, etc.

	The old radio still worked and was original, and just AM.  Rain decided to keep it but replaced the dash to a more upbeat snazzy look.  It pleased Rain and the old truck was just about new.  It still needed a little sprucing up underneath, a new transmission and lights but later.
	And so it came to pass that Rain asked of Darla,
	“Do you want to go home?”
	Darla thought—thought—and thought some more; then, semi reluctantly shrugged saying, “I miss my Mom.” and friends, school, and those little boys…
	Reluctantly, too, Rain returned Darla to her home.
	‘I want you to have sex with your Dad—step-dad.’
	She would spin the tale of being kidnapped, raped, and held for the time she had been away.  Her memory then would fog and no clear details of her kidnappers would be gleaned.  After a hospital exam she returned home.  That took a few days; meanwhile, Rain was busy elsewhere.
	Stanis, the town east of the tri-counties of Boone, Gilmore, and Chester, was a small-small city, twice the size of Northvalley.  Television stations, radio stations, and public broadcasting stations were numerous in Stanis.  While passing some time before returning to Darla for finishing touches, Rain visited the downtown area.  After a visit to a trendy outdoor café he made way to the museum directly across the street.  He wasn’t there ‘cause there was a special display of local artisans; it wasn’t for the nude sculptures; or the recently added additions from the Orient.
	It was the kids.
	A whole group of bright young energetic young peoples were on an outing.  And Rain learned that some of the bright young energetic young peoples were a part of a local public television station.  Rain immediately picked out several that gave him fits.
	The museum was equipped with the latest in Electronic Mind Altering Device detection.  The children, too, had on their person various detectors as well as tracking devices and panic devices much like keyless entry key fobs.  Rain took those detectors into consideration as he followed loosely the group back to their school which was on the lot of one of the public broadcasting station’s property.
	‘give me your ID tag.’
	The burly guard who needed a shave handed over his ID tag from around his neck, ‘you’ve lost your ID tag, you’ll have to get yourself a new one.’  Rain then put the tag in its plastic case around his neck and nonchalantly wandered about the lot—keeping an eye on where the group of Subjects went.

	In Studio B, Rain made his way around, noting the security guards and electronic features (electronic mind altering detectors), finding his way to a popular set that was in production and in rehearsal at the moment.  It wasn’t only young Subjects that got his attention—but a tall black man.
	The man was bald, tall, in his late 50s, and a happy-go-lucky character.  He seemed alright; friendly, helpful, playing with the kids.  The production in progress was “GRANDDADS ARE GRAND” or so it was written on the information board outside the door to the studio.
	Rain found a nice spot to watch the rehearsal and made pertinent observations—mostly that the man playing the granddad was a sneaky sneak—in the perverted sense.   The children he played with—acted with, were unaware and for the most part those working behind the scenes didn’t seem to know or be aware, either.
	Lots of crotch shots; young girls around nine to eleven years prancing about in short dresses and skirt outfits inadvertently giving non-viewers a shot of their crotch.  Some of those children from the museum were involved giving Rain an even more itch.
	When a break came, and the actor playing the granddad got within range of Rain,
	‘would you like to see those girls—without their panties on?’
	“I sure would!” exclaimed Cliff Rhichards, 62, and commercial actor.
	He was a friendly man, trained in the art of stage acting but that didn’t pay as well as doing commercials.  The new gig acting with children on a children’s show faired a little better—and then there were the perks!
	Rain had to be wary and extremely careful due to the minding device detectors; so he had to play it cool and low key.  One of the cutest girls from the set came close—
	‘would you like to see her naked?’
	‘would you like to be “alone” with her?’
	‘if you could rub your cock against her pussy—would you?’
	Yes!  Yes!  and Hell Yes!
	Rain was pleased and after assuring himself that the young Subject was not a risk (security wise) the three made way down a hall to a store room.  Once inside—
	The little girl, Lauren Glutrain, was a cutey!  Blond haired, blue eyes, baby fat cheeks, sweet-sweet smile, very active/playful, and could remember her lines.  She wore a smart kiddie outfit, plaid dress that was kinda short with knee socks.  Cute just didn’t cut it—she was more than that and all of just barely nine years young, too!

	There wasn’t a lot of time so “invisible” to Cliff and Lauren, Rain hustled Cliff into action with an oblivious Lauren.  Firstly, Cliff hoisted the little bright eyed child up onto a spare desk generally used as a prop.  Then she was laid down with her legs apart.  Cliff caressed her legs, then her thighs with his hands nervously and slowly inching their way up under her dress.
	With time a concern Rain goaded the unwary man into speeding it up.  Lauren’s dress was pushed up over her waist and Cliff took a long look at the girl in her off-pink panties.  He moaned, sweated, and gouged the heal of his hand to his bulging manhood.
	‘take ‘em down.’ Rain said softly.
	Nervously, Cliff eased down Lauren’s off-pink panties almost gasping as there it was—a hairless perfect virgin nine year old pussy.  He moaned—so did Rain.  His cock ached and he was hard pressed not to get involved himself.  Cliff got the panties down and off, then raised the girl’s legs taking another long hard look at her ass, asshole, and pussy.
	If there was more time more could have been done; but being that time was short, Cliff managed to get his dick out and hump it against the young girl’s pussy.  That helped and he came off in under two minutes.  A great massive load of man spunk coated Lauren’s poon.
	‘if you could—would you fuck her?’
	another Hell Yes!
	Pussy, mouth, asshole.  Plus he wanted to spank her, eat her pussy out, and watch her pee!  Rain was more pleased.
	Then his ears picked up the sounds of someone calling Lauren’s name.  Time to boogie.  Using a dust rag nearby, Cliff cleaned off his spunk from Lauren’s cunt, put her panties back on and then Rain took over easing the girl back to where she belonged none the wiser for what had happened to her.  She explained to fellow cast members and the studio mother she had to go to the bathroom.  Of course that didn’t wash too well ‘cause that was one of the first places everyone went looking when it was noticed she was missing.
	But there was no other explanation.  Security guards were numerous and began making an electronic sweep.  Rain got Cliff back into the scene with only a fleeting memory of what had happened but that memory was deemed a “fantasy.”
	Rain maintained an invisible status in the store room.  Two guards came and Rain froze—there was no way out, no escape, no exit.  If it came down to it he would use the panic button on the EMAD and hope that the guards didn’t have detectors on their person.  

 	But it was a long way out of the large studio, across the lot, and to his ride—which was kind of conspicuous being burnt yellow…
	The guards made their sweep of the room, Rain hid in a corner among other props and waited.  One guard came in, looked around, farted, then left.  Rain held his breath not sure if he could move yet or not.  After fifteen minutes or so he did move.
	No guards.
	Two other shows were in production in the studio but the children’s show was done rehearsing for the day.  Some of the kids lingered chatting and being children, some adults and production crew, too.  Rain checked his Device, it was in stand-by mode.  Rain was once more “visible” to sight and he casually stepped into view—should anyone view him.

	At that same café across from the museum, Rain enjoyed a small simple French fare with a glass of wine (also French).  Who happened to take a seat at a table nearby than Cliff Rhichards!  What a happenstance!  The man didn’t seem to notice Rain from earlier that same day.  Not to make it seem “on purpose” or something, Rain got up from his seat and went inside the café, got a pastry and then a local paper.  Upon returning he sat in the metal chair closer to Granddad Rhichards.
	Rain considered how to bring up a conversation when young mother with children in tow came to the outside eatery.  A young toddler was fussy, a young girl was not getting her way, and a young boy had ants in his pants and wouldn’t settle down.
	The attention, though, was the young girl.
	Lovely curly light brown hair, blue eyes, a red/yellow halter dress, sandals.  She was as cute as cute could be!  Cliff Rhichards’ eyes feasted on the girl who pouted with crossed arms; her haggard mother fussed with the toddler and running amok boy.  
	“Damn if she aint cute!” Rain said under his breath but just loud enough for the actor to hear him.
	“Got that right!” Cliff said energetically—then he corrected himself with coughing and fidgeting.
	‘if you could (get away with it) would you cum on her pussy?’
	Cliff staggered his answer—interrupted by the little boy running amok and the little girl in a huff stomping close to Rain and Cliff.
	‘turn around, sweetie.’
	“What?” said Cliff.
	‘not you!’

	Little Charlotte didn’t pause but turned around and “bent over.”
	It was a risk but, 
	‘pull your dress up to your waist.’
	Cliff Rhichards nearly fell out of his metal French bistro chair as the little girl stooping over hiked her dress up giving the two men a show.
	Suddenly, a siren blared out, red lights began flashing and Rain Frisco’s balls cinched up into his asshole.
	“Somebody’s using an EMAD.” Cliff said offhandedly.
	“Probably me.” Rain said dryly.
	Cliff looked at him strangely and with shock.
	Turning the Device didn’t help, it was still “detectable” by new sophisticated mind altering device detectors.  
	“I knew these would come in handy some day.” Cliff said pulling out some small firecrackers.
	“You always carry firecrackers in your pocket?” Rain asked.
	“Never know when they will come in handy.” the man smiled.
	The café staff was having everyone stay where they were, but small children didn’t pay heed to that command.  Police were on their way and Rain’s balls were tightening even more.
	Cliff slyly lit the three firecrackers he had and tossed them with a flip of his hand that went up to caress his sleek black bald head.  When the firecrackers went off—people screamed (especially children) and chaos reigned supreme.
	There were, of course, security cams but that would have to wait for another day.  Rain and Cliff hoped over the short wrought iron fence and meandered along with the other patrons fleeing the area.

	At a bar down the block and one over, the two men occupied a small booth having some Irish brew.  Talk was of public television, local politics, city transportation, and nothing on the subject that was dear to their heart—or actually, a little lower…
	After a time, the two left the establishment and sauntered across the bridge over a manmade lake to the city park that had a carnival within it.  A carousel, a giant wheel spinning in the cool Fall air, pumpkins and hay bales all over the place; clowns, too.
	And children.
	Of course security was tight; visible and otherwise.
	Rain and Cliff eased thru the throng of peoples with Cliff slapping Rain against the chest, “Looky there!” he said.
	Rain looked and couldn’t believe it—the little girl from the café!

	Carny people were everywhere, so was security.  A place where children were in any number and there were bound to be do-gooders, law enforcing agents, and EMAD detectors.  Popping his neck, though, Rain took the risk.  Standing by the loudspeaker that a nearby carny barked the outcome of a mini horse race, Rain focused on his Target.  Cliff hung loose loosely checking for security agents getting close.
	The Target, of course, wore a little bracelet that matched her Mother’s.  It was electronic in nature and would not allow the child out of the boundary of the park without the matching bracelet from her mother.
	No problem; while distracted (still) by her young children, Rain merely got her to give up her bracelet, give it to her daughter and bring it to Rain.
	“Damn!” blurted Cliff, he couldn’t believe it.  Charlotte was oblivious and accepted Rain as “her dad.”  Then it was a matter of getting some treats and basically anything the little girl wanted, including some prized stuffed toy animals some sizes larger than herself—the EMAD used to sway the carny to give up the prize without any playing done to earn it.
	With the child happy and contented it was an easy breeze thru the park gate and security stationed there.
	“Now what?” Cliff asked.
	Good question.  Rain’s pick-up would be too small for any thing in the hanky and panky department—not too mention, again, conspicuous.  Cliff had a regular sedan and not really good for the aforementioned hanky and panky.
	“We need a van.” Rain surmised and concluded.  A pervert’s perfect ride—offering concealment and privacy.
	Now, as it happened, Rain saw a boy across the small parking lot at an overflow lot lingering near a van seemingly being ansy.  It was dark and the lightposts dotting the area affected Rain’s ability to see clearly.  So, slowly he made his way across the lot, in between some cars, onto the sidewalk and then across the small lawn going to some collected trees that offered darkness.
	Across the street were some mini stores; book store, pizza joint, electronic store, clothing store, record store, and so on.  A few peoples were about; it was cooling down as the darkness continued into the night, the scenes and scent of Fall was heavy in the air—and Hunter Liggy-16 walked nervously about to and fro alongside his family’s van.
	But Hunter’s family was home, parents working, siblings doing their own thing.  Hunter had come to the city park/carnival alone.  

A matter of convenience
	‘like little girls?’
	‘like to see little girls naked?’
	‘if you could have you way with a little girl, would you?’
	The answer was, of course, YES!  Hunter Liggy was an average looking joker; needed a haircut, but he was a good kid with average grades in school—nothing to write home or get excited about.  In sports he was not so good—don’t put anything like a “ball” in his hands—or a bat or a club.  He fared better at chess—but not much better.  His actually quality was overlooked by his family—poetry.  The boy was a poet and only appreciated by his English teacher and some of his classmates.
	Anyways, the boy had a fetish—young girls.
	And he was a virgin.
	There were three siblings at the Liggy house, all boys and all older.  Hunter got beat up a lot, pushed around, farted on, and ridiculed by his brothers.  He took a lot of shit and his only outlet was his fetish of coyly and slyly watching young girls.
	Hunter easily submitted to the mind altering device of Rain Frisco and gave up the keys to the van.  Cliff was awed but swung into the van holding little Charlotte on his lap as he sat in the backseat—where he couldn’t be easily seen.
	No commotion at the park just yet, Rain backed the van out of the overflow parking lot and cruised down the street parking at an empty stop at the end of the block.  Cliff didn’t ask “what up?” cause he was busy prilimarily molesting Charlotte.  Charlotte’s mind had been “touched” by Rain’s Device successfully enough that she willing submitted to whatever “Uncle” Cliff wanted to do to her.
	Rain left the van saying “Be right back.”
	Cliff nodded and held the little wiggly Charlotte on his lap, tickling her and surreptitiously fingering her.  Young teen Hunter sat quietly in the front passenger seat, mindless.
	And it didn’t take long before Cliff chanced everything and eased Charlotte’s panties down.  He made a moan and a long satisfying groan as his fingers lightly went about roaming in places they weren’t supposed to roam.  Little Charlotte giggled, tooted, and was too enamored with her new stuffed toys from the carnival to know—not too mention that a minding device had touched her mind…
	Rain returned in half an hour—with Charlotte’s mommy, Karla.
	The van was fired up and off they went—to Rain’s cabin by the woods!