August Moone
Book 8
Chapter Forty-Nine
Plan Nine from Somewhere Out In Space
also:  Wer hat gefurzt?

The Humpfest Chronicles
	At Light-Rock Camp there were facilities—and a hell of a story for Helga to rely to her already bewildered Dad.  The bite of Fall was months away yet, the heat of Summer was beginning to be a bit much; regardless of the sweltering/humid heat; though, there were other interesting aspects to romping about the woods to take note of (other than naughty business of humans.)
	Turkeys, wild boar, and deer populated the woods in and about the remote campsites Helga had visited on her romp from home.  Big Bob Heely got a hard-on just as much from seeing the game as hearing his daughter’s recount of her adventure.  The retelling of the Hunston family, Patricia and her children, got Bob seriously enthused.  The campsite was empty—but Helga’s recalling of the tall man with the beard and swagger bothered Bob:  was the man still present?
	Not likely, it had been a couple of weeks or so since Helga’s “visit” and the dead heat of midsummer was pretty unaccommodating; oppressive weather kept most folk away from “exploring” but there was always a few who would brave such a venture.
	Helga brought her dad by the hand to the very instructional room Patricia had her family had become pawns at the hands of the stranger.  Big Bob was a little worried and somewhat concerned about the “stranger”.  There were misgivings; too, about his young daughter romping about alone in the wilderness with some creepwad with an EMAD romping about, too!
	But then again, Helga seemed to be ok—she was a city kid, a bit of a bully, but she had street smarts.  That, though, was in the city—the woods in the country were no streets of the city.  However, she seemed to have fared well—sneaking about campsites, the Light-Rock campsite, and the cabins.  She kept well of herself, spied on everyone, and managed to return home.
	Bob was sure he could have done the same thing.  Pretty sure.
	Anyways, the detailing of the Hunston family got Bob more than excited.  As Helga detailed the Hunston children admitting messing with one another and then messing with one another under the power of the stranger’s minding device, Helga herself got “excited.”  
	No hot water in the facilities, that was a bit of a bummer.  Not too worry, a little ways from the campsite were some cabins.
	After the fireplace got going good and hot father and daughter snuggled side by side roasting wieners and marshmallows.  All was quiet and still—save for the crackling fire in the fireplace.  It had been a long time since the two had snuggled.  Long time.  (well, not counting when Helga had returned from her romping.)  Bob still had a raging hard-on, he thought of Helga’s tales, the stranger, and boning his daughter.  
	But the snuggling was special and he didn’t want to spoil it—let her make the first move; he would be ready and more than willing.  Nothing wrong with snuggling.  They were clothed and Helga shivered some.
	“Here, have a snort,” Bob said chuckling, “it’ll put hair on your chest!”
	Helga gave her Dad a look (you know the one) but took the offering in a small tin cup—it was whiskey!
	Helga slurp the potent drink—gagged, choked, sputtered, and thought she would die.
	“More?” Bob asked.
	Helga couldn’t speak but offered up her cup and Bob poured in a little more.
	The wood popped in the fireplace; outside the air got a little colder as night encroached on the land.  

	Two more swigs of whiskey and Helga was ready—to throw up.
	She also had to pee and wobbled as she made way to the back door of the lone one room cabin.  There were steps out the backdoor; Helga gripped the post of the porch to get a grip of herself, then she had to get her pants and undies off.  That wasn’t easy and she lost her grip toppling to the ground.  Big Bob was right there—missed her, though.  After scooping her up and brushing her off he then helped her out of her clothes.  She was buzzed.  
	Standing Helga up, her back into him, Bob fondled his daughter as she peed a hearty pee.  He had visions of her friend, Kim Ko.  Then, of course, there were many other girls Helga knew that Bob wanted to know—that Bob wanted to fondle, feel out, watch go pee standing up, etc.  The cabin was a great place remotely located that could hold a few girls at a time for him to dabble with.  Helga’s mind altering device could come in quite handy!
	Back inside the cabin the two got comfy again under a blanket.  Helga mumbled something, hummed something, and was still buzzed but slowly wearing off.  Helga hadn’t been redressed.  Bob’s hands slowly groped about fondling his daughter’s breasts and wishing he had stripped off his clothing, too.
	Then, Helga turned about part way for serious snuggling.
	Then,
	“I love you, Dad.”
	Bob’s heart froze—right to his soul he was shaken.
	Love.
	That was a biggie—and a toughie.
	Of course he loved Helga—but couldn’t remember the last time he had told her so.  And Helga hadn’t proclaimed her sentiment, either, he so noted.  It was just understood.  
	He sighed—love sure had a way of spoiling something.
	Helga quickly slipped into sleep mode and Bob had to settle with holding her, lightly caressing her, and letting his aching cock die out.  Sleep caught up with him, too; long day trekking across the wilderness, visiting all the campsites in Helga’s adventure.

SOS
	Frost coated the few windows of the cabin; wood crackled in the fireplace freshly stoked and stocked.  Helga stired—slowly.  A banger of a headache she had; she didn’t understand why grown-ups had such an affinity for alcohol.  Sitting up she had to grip herself to keep from rocking—it was like being on a ship at sea!  Then something filled her nostrils and with bleary eyes she saw her dad at the kitchen making breakfast.
	It took a while for Helga to gain composure enough to stand; taking the wool blanket with her she slowly tredged across the open floor to the open kitchen.
	“What’s up?” she asked.
	“SOS.” Big Bob replied.
	“Help?”
	Bob chortled, “No, Helga, this SOS is military breakfast.”
	In the pantry, Bob found a hunter’s delight—also a military man’s delight.  Enough food to stave off hunger for a winter’s hold; bacon, ham, oil, flour, sugar, nuts, a little of this and some of that.  Big cast iron skillets, pots, and pans; rolling pins, utensils, a can of lard, ham hocks, and quite a bit of food to sustain a person for a good long while if stuck out in the wilderness.
	“The thing is,” Bob said, “what you take or use, you put back for the next guy.”  Another trip would have to be made to replace what was used.
	“Sooo, what’s this SOS stuff?”
	Bob smiled, “Shit on a Shingle!” he beamed.
	“’scuse, me?”
	“Well, different branches of the military have their own style,” Bob explained, “for me and my crew, SOS was flour, salt, pepper, ground beef, the oil from the beef or bacon, and milk; then pour over toast or biscuits.”

	There was no refrigeration at the lone cabin, there was; however, canned milk.  No beef, either, but there was the ham and beef bouillon cubes.  Some recipe versions had the adding of onions, peppers, seasoning salt, herbs of this and that, and so on like that.
	Bob made the SOS with the ingredients provided; Helga made the biscuits.  There was hot chocolate, too.  Helga didn’t mind roughing it and decided that maybe she could join up with the lame girl scouts.
	“It’ll be good for you,” Bob said, “get to socialize with new friends.”
	Helga shrugged, “Yeah, maybe it’ll be alright; meet some girls to bring home to play with.” And the way she said “play with” put a twinkle in her dad’s eye—and a hard-on in his pants.

We’re not lost, we just don’t know where we are!
	“He fucked a tank?”
	Bob sniggered, “Well, yeah—he gave it a good try anyways.”
	Corporal Greg Fitz was way drunk on moonshine (provided by Sergeant Bob Heely).  So far to count, Corporal Fitz had humped a jeep, his bunk, the tile in the communal shower—
	“Did he ever do it with a person; I mean, a girl, an army girl?”
	“Yeah, a general’s daughter, a major’s daughter, a first sergeant’s wife!”
	“Who did you do?”
	Bob furled his lips, chuckled in remembrance, “Well, no tanks, but there was this one lieutenant—”
	“A guy?  You did it with another army guy?” Helga almost shrieked.
	“A guy?  Hell no, this lewy was a gal, young gal at that.” he smiled as the remembrance of Karyn Shotsnglass Horoiki filled his mind.

Is that a howitzer in your pocket or are you just happy to see me!?
	“We’re lost!”
	“No, (M’am) we’re not lost—we just don’t know where we are!”
	On the last day of July—it was hot.  Damn hot, and Sergeant Heely piloted an old rust bucket tank due for “target practice.”  Thing was, though, no trailer big enough (or strong enough) for the old WWII tank, so Sgt. Heely opted to just “drive it” to its last resting place—ten miles up to Blast ‘Em to Hell Hill.
	“That’ll be fine,” said Capt. Horschnitt, “take her with you.”
	The good captain referred Lt. Horoiki.
	Sgt. Heely would have preferred one of his buddies, the motor pool sergeant, Staff Sergeant Sweatsolott, Tech. Sergeant Blowinhole, any number of “buddies”—anyone but Lieutenant Karyn S Horoiki.  
	Karyn S Horoiki was alright, mid twenties, very undertall, slim enough, blond hair, blue eyes.  Collage girl.  She was pretty, fairly smart, big boobs.  She got along with virtually everyone; understood her place as an officer in the military and “snapped to” when other officers were about and some NCOs.  
	Heely hung his head, sighed deeply—ten miles in a doomed tank with the Luey, he wasn’t going to be able to live that one down with his buddies.
	Sgt. Heely had heard that the Lieutenant had to go as many as four times airborne school.  But, on the other hand—she got her infantry wings and that was all that mattered.  The young woman had a nice smile, got along with everyone, and had a nice butt.
	There was nothing to do but suck it in and take the old tank up the hill—with the lieutenant as company.  So much for goofing off midway up, having some brews, eating up a few hours doing absolutely nothing.  
	Wasn’t going to happen now.  And he knew when he got back with his buddies at the NCO Club, Tiger’s Den, he’d hear about it; “did you salute the Luey?”  “Did you Raise the Flag (with the Lieutenant)?”  “Fire off ye olde cannon?”  “Hup-to, hup to!” and a bunch of other nonsense comments that would probably get somebody a fat lip.  Bob could take some ribbing but only so far.
	Karyn Horoiki was mostly white but had Asian heritage, too.  In some light, she was almost childlike—a preteen if you will.  But those tits, that ass, them gams—the woman was no child.  Just short.
	Bob fired up the tank; it roared to life, sputtered, coughed, and gagged everyone who stood too close.  After the warning lights went out as well as the oil pressure after a few seconds Bob engaged the beefy iron machine’s levers and they were off.  Casually he turned his head seeing Lt. Horoiki sitting in the command seat just behind him—her head up out of the top hatch getting some air (kind of like a dog.)
	Her legs were open.
	Maybe she didn’t know that was not the womanly thing to do.
	Maybe she did.
	Maybe she didn’t know that the driver could easily turn his head and get a nice view of her crotch.  And maybe she could!  Bob turned back to stare out his little view port basically able to drive the tank with his dick it was so hard!  Karyn Horoiki had been on the army base a few months and been with the company a couple of months.  She was easy going, not a hard case, not out to prove something, not a bitch.  She was a second lieutenant in the signal corp.; communications speficially.

	Bob guided the doomed tank up Longview Road; most of the road was straight, narrow, with a few switchbacks.  Halfway up at one of the switchbacks was a turn-out; lots of trees, boulders, and a natural spring fed pond.  Just about everyone who traveled up the road to Blast ‘Em to Hell hill top knew about the near secret cove—it was a great place for secret parties, swimming, killing time without being seen…
	“Damn, it’s hot!” quipped Lt. Karyn.
	“Not so cool down here, either!” returned Sgt. Bob.
	Tanks came with massive weapons, massive engines, massive armor.
	Tanks did not come with comfort or air conditioning.
	“Do you know about Prescotti Pond, Sergeant?” the Lieutenant asked.
	‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ Sgt. Heely nodded, “Yes, M’am, I know about it.”
	The tank surged up the hill; Bob patted the instrument panel, shame about having to see it go—in a big blast of fury from fellow (but more modern) tanks.  If he had twenty thousand dollars he could buy the tank.  The engine leaked oil, fuel, water; a slight overhaul of the engine would be needed but it wasn’t like Bob was going to use the tank on a daily basis or something—maybe in a parade or something like back home.
	As the road leveled out nearing Sergeant Major Prescotti Cove,
	“Pull it over, Sergeant, would you?” asked/said the Lieutenant.
	Bob adjusted the levers and brought the tank into the pull-out and parked it under the shade of the trees surrounding the hidden entrance to the cove.  A huge boulder was the center piece; spilt in two a cascade of water spilled down into a small pond that ran into a culvert under the road and out the other side.  A small path led around the boulders and a hundred yards in was Sgt. Major Prescotti’s Cove, a large naturally spring fed pond, sandy beach surrounding with trees, shrubs, boulders—a perfect spot to chill out and not be seen or heard.
	Some years earlier, before the Cove was aptly named, Sgt. Major Prescotti found his “missing in action” soldiers whopping it up—out of uniform most of them, partying, mixed classes of soldiers (enlisted, NonCommissioned Officers, and Officers (lieutenants, a couple of captains, and a major)).
	Most of the partygoers were confined to their quarters; others were confined to the brig.  Several (most) of the officers got reassigned to remote (very) places and likely never heard from again.)  The Cove was off limits from then on; but over the years it was “re-found” and re-popularized once more.
	Lt. Horoiki hopped off the tank and made for the boulders.  Sgt. Heely thought for a moment—thought some more then climbed out of the hot-as-hell tank and made for the boulders himself.
	The Lieutenant didn’t take the path around the boulders but squatted at the small pond in front of the boulders to wash her face in the very refreshing cascading waterfall.
	Bob sloshed his way over the small creek before the culvert contemplating taking his boots off and soaking his hot feet. 
	“Damn, this water’s good!” Horoiki said.
	Bob squatted across from her trying to keep certain thoughts that could get him forever locked up in the stockade for life at bay.  The water was good, unspoiled, fresh, clean, natural.  He, too, washed his face, drank, and cautiously eyed the Leuy as she squatted—he had a nice shot of her “camel-toe” and those pesky thoughts he had been trying to keep at bay began thrashing about in his mind with a tromping ferocity.
	“Good day to go swimming.” remarked the Lieutenant.
	Sgt. Heely knew the Lieutenant was a “good joe”; when no important officers or non-coms were around she easily joshed with the lower ranks, joked, made off-handed non-military remarks, and cussed.  At a club off base were non-commissioned officers AND other ranks could join she offended drank beer and mixed drinks right along with her fellow soldiers; she sang karaoke (and wasn’t bad doing her impersonation of Joan Baez.)
	“I don’t think we’re properly dressed.” replied Heely.
	“Eh, dressed schmessed!” quaffed Horoiki, she smiled, winked, and made way around the boulder on her side leaving Sgt. Heely a little more than stupefied.  Horoiki popped her head back around the boulder a few seconds later, “You coming?”

	“Boots on, long run!”  “Boots off, in the loft!”
	“Socks on, time to creep!”  “Socks off, time to sleep!”
	It only took a few seconds or so to make it around the boulder on his side and along the path to the secluded pond—but by the time he got there there was the Leuy “boots off, socks off” and unbuttoning her green fatigue shirt (fatigues the time being BEFORE camouflage uniforms became the norm for military personnel.)
	Bob kept to his side of the small pond—a circumference of about fifteen feet.  A huge boulder occupied space at one side, a five foot sandy beach encircled the pond with shrubs and bushes thereabout, too.  The locale was serene, tranquil, and a perfect spot to secretly party without being seen/found out.

	Horoiki stood in her green tee-shirt and fatigue pants; usually her blond hair was kept up off the collar; she wore her honey blond hair with ponytail.  Twenty-six years young and she was quite the charmer—unbelievable that she chose the military as a “way of life.”  From what Bob knew, no one in her family was military-ish.
	Bob had his boots and socks off soaking his feet in the pristine water, shirt laying off to one side and wishing he had some beer.
	“Too bad we don’t have any beer!” quipped Horoiki.
	Bob chortled, ‘bitch read my mind!’
	“Well, “M’am, no beer but I think there might be something more potent in my canteen.”
	Horoiki smiled beamingly and Bob jumped up returning to the tank to fetch.
	When he returned, Lt. Karyn S Horoiki was skinny dipping!
	Bob’s eyes went firstly to the woman swimming in the pond that had a ten foot bottom then to her amassed clothing on the shore—focusing mostly to her panties and bra.  She was naked!  Naked!
	Sgt. Bob Heely had wood.
	He also had a canteen of hooch; a strong potent drink surely to rip the hairs off your body, reborn them, curl them, then singe them off.  Bob took a strong sip then began peeling off his clothes.
	“What is it?” Horoiki asked as he swam out to the woman treading water.
	Bob smiled, “Just a little German import.”
	Horoiki smiled, chuckled, then supported herself to keep steady by placing feet on a submerged rock.  Taking the canteen offering, “This aint going to grow hair on me, is it?”
	Bob chucked, “No promises.”  ‘but it might!’
	Horoiki took a swig, gagged, sputtered, coughed, “this is pure poison!”
	“Yeah, aint it though!?” and took the canteen back taking another swig.
	EKU 28, a German beer.  
	“That’s truly unsanitary!” Horoiki continued.
	“It’s diabolical!” added Sgt. Heely.
	EKU means Echt Kulmbacher which means real Kulmbacher and 28 is the original wort of 28%!
	“Takes a little time to “embrace the taste.” chortled Sgt. Heely.
	“Oh, Jesus, you can use it to unclog toilets!” but despite her comments, she took another swig—slung her head and batted her eyes excessively.

	Drinking and swimming—or drinking WHILE swimming don’t usually mix; Bob put the canteen on the shore and did a little diving to the bottom—mostly so as he could look up to see Horoiki’s crotch.  The water was so pristinely clear one could see very clearly.  Sure there was distortion but Bob could see nicely Karyn’s crotch—specifically her poon as she treaded water in about the middle of the pond.
	Cold chilling water or not—Sgt. Bob Heely had wood.

	“Oh, wow,” sniggered Horoiki, “is that a howitzer in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” a quirky old line—and Sgt. Heely was wearing any pockets.  Fetching the canteen of hooch, Bob merged out of the water as he had placed the canteen subconsciously “just out of reach” from the water’s edge.  Mostly it was to keep the canteen from toppling in or something—but there was an ulterior motive…
	Sgt. Heely wasn’t an Old War Horse—but he was no spring chicken, either.  His cock stood out nominally so, balls weren’t too hairy, no pot belly, and in fairly decent shape—it was the military for Pete’s sake!  Horoiki’s eyes feasted on Heely’s proud “howitzer.”  It had to be believed that the young woman certainly had seen her share of “cock.”  
	The contents of the canteen didn’t last long—and the standing base rules against inter-class fraternization also didn’t last.  Non-commissioned officers and enlisted personnel could date and seriously socialize and nothing wrong with that.  Officers could date other officers.  Enlisted were to their own.  Dating interminglingly to the other ranks was frowned upon—a major and a sergeant a kind of no-no; a private and a lieutenant not a good idea.  A sergeant and a lieutenant was also unlikely.
	But there were no one with a clipboard standing nearby so after consuming the canteen—

	So far in his military career he had loaded his M1 into this girl and that, young enlisted girls and a sergeant gal who had been around the world more than once.  Never, though, had he humped an officer.  Putting it to Lt. Horoiki was something!  Really something!  Not an overly “tight” pussy but it was snug.  Ever since she had come onto the company, Sgt. Heely had wanted to “get into her” and fuck her brains out, slap her on the ass when done and salute hand and dick.
	Banging the Leuy on the sandy beach was the next best thing to getting her in the sack.  Her breasts were more than he could imagine; they were wondrous globes with stiff-stiff nipples that grinded against the sergeant’s chest as he pumped her.  The sun beat down on his back; his toes dug into the sand as he found new nuances of incredible thrills.

	A shared shiver erupted thru the two lovers—Bob couldn’t remember if he had ever had such a shiver; the snug pussy wrapped about his johnson gave him such joy and pleasure as never before.  It was awesome!  As their lovemaking continued—and the sun scorched Bob’s backside, Bob struggled to maintain control.  But the snug cunt of Lt. Horoiki was too much; his toes wiggled, a tingling feeling seethed throughout his body—even his hair tingled!
	Finally the release came.
	Horoiki finally made a verbal comment (unintelligible but it was verbal.)
	Bob slammed his cock into the young woman, stretching the skin tight struggling dramatically to reach and cross over the brink of ecstasy.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten laid and he generally staved off from whacking himself—saving himself for pussy rather than his hand.  And the Lieutenant’s cunt WAS deliciously snug giving him thrills he had never known.
	But cumming off took a little doing.
	The eruption finally came and Sgt. Heely barely had the strength to roll off of Horoiki.  He breathed hard, his cock ached, and energy totally-totally zapped.  ‘Whew!  What a fuck!’ he said to himself.  There was nothing to do but lay on the warm sand and breath hard.
	Horoiki lay beside him, panting and soaked in a sheen layer of sex sweat.  She frigged herself while she, too, regained her equanimity.  “FUCK!” she said aloud.  Heely chuckled—at least he had given her a reason to live.

Welcome to Blast ‘Em to Hell Hill—
	the sign said.  A little after noon and the old iron war horse pulled up to the shack where Staff Sergeant Merkowitz waited.
	“Thought youze left ‘our or two ‘go” the 15 years of service man said.  He was a tall man, stooped/slouched posture, small eyes, more fitting of an old cowhand than a military man.
	“Got overheated—” Heely said climbing out of the doomed machine, “er, the tank—heated up and stop—”
	“We had to stop at the turn-out and let it cool down.” said a more concise in control Horoiki.  She jumped down and though tired, sweaty, freshly fucked, stood upright maintaining composure and dignity.  Sgt. Merkowitz saluted her and the three ventured inside the shack where it was a few degrees cooler thanks to a swamp cooler.
	Paperwork was handed back and forth—the world of the military doesn’t turn unless there’s paperwork involved.  In triplicate.  Heely went to the galvanized ten gallon water cooler and had himself several paper cups worth.  Then he peeked into the container and smiled big when he saw several bottles of brewskies within with ice chunks floating about keeping them cold-cold-cold.
	Just as Heely was about to pull out some brews in walked Captain Manny Peanpantz.  A young officer with aspirations beyond his means.  Everyone “snapped to” as he came in,
	“This the tank for artillery barrage?” he asked.
	“Yes, Sir,” said Sgt. Merk, “it is and it’s ready.”
	The Captain checked the paperwork, signed it, and told “whoever” to move it to the designated location.  Merkowitz turned smiling to Sgt. Heely,
	“Yeah, yeah, yeah; I know, I know!” and stomped out behind the departing captain back into the hot-as-hell tank, fired it up and moved it out to the artillery range and parked it—then hot footed out of the area, reported to the Range Sergeant that he was out of the area, then hot footed back to the Shack for those ice cold brewskies.
	Merkowitz and Horoiki were already into the brew…

	At 15:15 (that’s 3:15PM for you non military blokes) a barrage of fire from modern day tanks erupted and quickly obliterated the old Sherman tank.  Sad.  In the Shack, Lt. Horoiki watched oddly as Staff Sgt. Merkowitz and Sgt. Heely put their beers down and stood up and calmly saluted.  Horoiki felt ill at ease and did likewise introducing herself into a seldom known military custom.
	Afterwards, porkrinds and more beer.
	“Formation at seventeen hundred.” said Horoiki.
	Heely checked his watch, twenty minutes to five—
	“We probably ought to go.” he surmised; the company commander occasionally like to have his company have a “formation” at the beginning of the day and at Close of Business—End of the Day.  Mondays and Fridays were mandatory, Wednesday you could also count on the double In Front of the Barracks Assembly.  Tuesdays and Thursdays were usually optional.  Usually.
	It was Turd Day and the Captain wanted a company assembly.
	“Someone’s getting promoted,” said Horoiki already in the know, “it’s not you, it’s not me.” she said dryly.  
	The trio eased out of the Down Range Shack and piled into the jeep.
	“Looks like we have to hitch a ride with you, Merk,” Heely said giggling, “seems like our ride got blowed up!”
	Merkowitz fired up the jeep and hauled off down the hill to the base.
	At Merk’s barracks Heely took over the jeep and sped off to their own barracks arriving just in time to jump into their prospective platoon.  On the small cement platform stood the Captain, two assistant lieutenant suck-ups, the Sergeant Major of the company, and the Colonel—head honcho and all around asshole.

	Most of the company was still in the process of “assembling.”  For the Make-A-Better-Army Company (Military Bulk Supply Company also known as ASA—Army Supply Agency.)  Fuel, food, bedding, necessary items to set up a M*A*S*H unit or other staging area for military personnel In the Field of Operations, disembarking, and so on.
	Then,
	Horoiki jabbed Heely in the side, “Grab Horny!”
	Heely saw Spec. 4 Gandy Horniadae weaving as he stood in the third rank.
	“Oh shit.” Heely said.  Slowly he moved cautiously trying to be inconspicuous from the stern military eyes of the company commanders before the fatal command words were spoken.
	“What’s goin’ on, Sarge?” Pvt. Leddy asked as Heely slipped by,
	“Horny!” Heely whispered harshly.
	Leddy didn’t get it; but looked to Horniadae, then up to the command stage, then back to Horniadae.  “Oh shit!” he got it.

	Like many military personnel on base, a soldier’s pay didn’t go far or far enough.  So, some got side jobs, on base or off base and it was ok with their commanders—so long as those extra jobs didn’t distract from their military commitment job.  Spec. Four Grandy Horniadae had a side job at the local theatre as a projectionist.  It was a suck-ass job but he knew how to do it so he got the job.  Now, the day was a Thursday and for Grandy it was an “off-day” for him on his military commitment freeing him to get in a little extra time at the theatre.
	The theatre was at the end of a small strip mall on the base a few blocks down from 3-story barrack unit Grandy was a part of.  Next to the theatre was a pizzeria, a trinket shop, 2nd hand store, a small commissary, a bank/loan office, and at the end, X-Ray Club—a bar suitable for all ranks and classes.
	Grandy Horniadae was fond of the drink—he was Irish, Scottish, and German.  The trifecta of getting shit faced—of which Grandy did on an almost daily bases.  His military job was in supply—sorting items in the warehouse and keeping stock of those items.  After a while of doing this job it got a little boring—
	Usually Grandy worked his second job after hours—after regular hours at the warehouse which was generally 8AM to 5PM, M-F.  The last showing at the theatre was around midnight thru the week and 1-2AM on the weekends.  There, too, were daily showings, matinees and special viewings for those who happened to work nights, families on the base, and so on.
	The X-Ray Club was open daily, Noon O’clock to 2AM.
	After his shift in the projection room—and sometimes during, Grandy enjoyed a sip of the creature.  And then another sip.  And another sip.  And then—well, you get the picture.
	From time to time—military units gather for special occasions; a new commander coming on board; a new barracks; a new company forming; a unit deploying oversees; a unit breaking up, and a whole list of reasons to gather.  Protocol has it that the top officer in charge calls out “BATTILION!” then the second top officer calls out “COMPANY!” followed by the next in line officer yelling out “PLATOON!” and some other officer usually the second in command exclaims “ATTENTION!”
	One night after heavy “sipping” a surprise gathering was called for as a battalion commander had passed away.  Spec. 4 Horniadae stood in 3rd rank of his platoon and heard the immortal words chanting “BATTILION!” followed by “COMPANY!” and “PLATOON!”
	Horniadae sputtered at the top of his inebriated lungs “ATTENTION!”
	Thereafter it was a running joke with Grandy reciting the calling out of “Battlion!”  “Company!”  “Platoon!”  “ATTENTION!” enunciating as best he could with slurring words, swaying, and so on.

	No one of the commanding staff knew who barked out the command on cue and there seemed to be some confusion there—but the 2nd in command knew that someone out in the four platoons had stole his thunder.  No one gave up Horniadae and he kept quiet—usually.
	Just as Capt. Peanpantz barked out “COMPANY!” Grandy snickered, teetered a little to port bumping into Pvt. Gottsum who promptly shoved the drunk soldier to starboard, then belted out “PLATOON!” in a long drone heavily enunciating the “toon” part in a near comical exhortation.
	The offended platoon giggled and snickered—all eyes of the command staff blared eyes to the offender.  Heely sighed, shook his head, “We’re fucked, now!”
	“Is there a problem, Sergeant?” blared Capt. Peanpantz—embarrassed in front of the Colonel was not generally a good idea.  Spec. Four Horniadae was a doomed man.

	“What happened to him?” Helga asked.
	“Ohhhh, he made out alright; got sent to rehab to dry out, take some classes, and was going to get a strong reprimand.”
	“Was?”
	“Yeah,” chuckled Bob, “then the Colonel got transferred to Germany; the Captain got a promotion and went to Hawaii.”
	“Wow.”
	“And Horny slipped thru the cracks.”
	“What’s that mean?”
	“Well, with the two offended ones out of the pictures and nothing really written down for his punishment, he returned to his projection job—and drinking.  Some told the new Colonel and Captain about Horny’s chiming in “occasionally” the battalion chant.”
	“What’d they do about it?”
	“Surprisingly, they were actually cool with it—but did frown on it a tad bit; but we thankfully were able to curb Horny before he blurted out anything.”
	Bob went quiet.
	“What happened to him?”
	Bob sighed, “Well, don’t know if it was a lasting rant from Captain Peanpantz or what, but the whole damn company got sent to ‘Nam.”
	“Didn’t everyone go?”
	“Well, our particularly unit was supposed to stay Stateside; but then these company orders came and the whole unit went.”
	More pausing, licking lips, thoughtful thinking.
	“And?”

	“And one morning Horniadae was hauling some supplies between our staging area and A-Company—and got blowed up.”
	Helga’s face lost color, “Oh my God!”
	“Yeah, 12 bottles of Scotch, some Spam, medical supplies, went with him.”
	“Bummer.”
	“Yeah, the loss of Horniadae was a bummer, too.”
 
*

Join the Army!  Travel the World!  Shoot People!
	“Was that just the one time?” (Helga asked about her Dad and Horoiki.)
	“Naw,” he said fondly, “couple more times before I deployed.”
	“Deployed?”
	“Yeah, my whirlwind tour Europe, Scandinavia, and Asia—mostly Asia.”
	“Oh, the war thing.”
	“You don’t talk about it much,” ‘not to me, anyways.’
	“Most of us Vets don’t—a time we’d like to forget.” 
	Outside the cabin in the woods the air was more than nippy; a cold spell was doing more than creeping in—Fall temperatures were kissing  Summer’s temperatures.  Helga stepped out of the cabin, naked. 
	“Helga, come back in here, you’re gonna freeze!”

	“I gotta do something first.” replied the naked girl.  She had changed her usually twin braided pony tails to one single one.  The “tail” came to the small of her back and for some reason—it gave Big Bob SUCH a boner!  If she would let that hair loose, she’d be like some Scandinavian naked chick!
	Helga shivered and stepped off the so-so back porch, spread her legs, rubbed her body all over and began to pee—standing up.  Big Bob at the door rubbed his seriously hard hard-on.  He imagined her friend, Kim, standing there with her pissing out a storm, too.
	After her healthy pee, Helga turned, “Fuck this shit, it’s cold!” and whisked her way back into the cabin to the fire.  Bob turned to follow—but caught sight of one of two rain barrels.  One barrel had a galvanized spout leading into it for rainwater runoff.  The other barrel on the other corner of the smallish cabin did not have such a contraption but did have what looked like a water-level indicator.
	Lifting the protective wooden lid that was loose Bob saw a full barrel of ice-cold water with something sitting on the bottom.  Braving stupidity he plunged his hand into the frigid water retrieving what there was.
	And what there was was dark ale—imported brewskies!  Lots of them, too!

Quiz time kiddies!  Name the Four Seasons
	                      No, not Frankie Valli and THOSE Four Seasons of the ’60s.
                                No, not The Four Seasons; a set of four violin concertos by Antonio Vivaldi, composed in 1723.
			No, not the restaurant, either.
			And no, not salt, pepper, mustard and vinegar.
	In the city—there was Winter, with snow & ice followed by Summer, from the end of May to the end of September—the Devil himself comes to visit, leaving for vacation in Death Valley as the temps in the city top 115 for an avg.  The heat boiling up from the city sidewalks could bake a person.  The fruit sellers keep their goods inside their stores; ice cream melts on the hand as soon as the ice cream man hands the treat over; the roads get gooey; and so on.
	In the country—there was Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter.
	From January to March, Winter time hung on decreasing by five degrees incrementally; the snows usually were all gone by the end of February.  Spring came along with flowers and scented air lasting from March thru June.  July, August, and September the temperatures could soar up to low 100s; a temp of 115 was recorded in 1950—a recorded for the entire TriCounty area.
	Fall entered the scene at the beginning of October lasting thru to the middle of the November—officially into December.  Snow usually brushed in middle of December.
	Helga preferred the Fall time; Winter had possibilities—snow ball fights, presents, school closures, marshmallows in the fire, the old lady slipping on the icy sidewalk across the street.  Fall had pumpkins!  Stuffed-with-straw Scarecrows, hay bales, pumpkin pie, the turning of the leaves, fireplaces.
	During the day in the woods the temperatures were moderate and mostly acceptable.  Come nightfall, though, and those acceptable temperatures dropped to near freezing.  Only in the middle of Summer was the nighttime temperatures tolerable. 

Whiskey was one thing—German beer was something else.
	 Explain one of the processes by which water can be made safe to drink.
 	 Flirtation makes water safe to drink; flirtation removes large pollutants like grit, sand, dead sheep and canoeists 
	Five beers for Bob and he was fine; he had a bit of a buzz going ‘cause German stout will do that to you.  Daughter Helga after the same number of beers—wavered, hummed, and had an indelible smile etched on her pretty Norwegian face.  She was a little more than simply “buzzed.”  Bob held back jumping his daughter’s bones as they snuggled inside the army wool blanket.  His cock was hard enough to hunt with.
	Somewhere along their snuggling they fell asleep.
	Hours later and Helga was up for a pee followed by her Dad coming along to do likewise.
	“I suppose we should start heading back,” Bob said to her once back inside, “cant stay out here forever!”
	“We’re missing ball games!” Helga exclaimed.
	“And the start of school.” 
	Summer was slipping away, school was close at hand, and so was Helga’s favorite time of the year; Fall.  Time was slipping away almost without notice.  The big move from the city to the country had been something—really something!
	Though it had been a few hours since having the potent German beer, Helga still had a bit of a buzz.  Bob, too, had a bit of something going—specifically a hard-on.  Sitting up close to the fire under the heavy (and scratchy wool blanket) Helga finally turned to occupy space on her Dad’s lap—effectively sliding her sex down onto his very erect staff.
	Bob cupped his daughter’s ass; Helga moaned and settled herself all the way down.  There was nearly a mutually shared orgasm spurting at the same time.  Helga shivered and couldn’t help but clench herself.  Bob batted his eyes and still continued to think of boning Helga’s friend, Kim.

If we lie to the Congress, it's a felony, but if Congress lies to us it's just politics
	“So you went to Germany, too?”
	“Yep.”  This after getting hurt (shot) in ‘Nam; the medical helicopter he was in crashed en route to the staging area where wounded patients were then transported to a medical ward on a navy ship at sea (out of harm’s way.)  The helicopter crew, two medics, and four other injured soldiers had to fight their way thru thick jungle to the staging area ten klicks away—ten kilometers (a little over 6 miles.)
	Sgt. Heely was pretty beat up by then and the “next thing he knew” was—Germany.  He was in a German hospital near a US Military base.  The war raged on without him and soon ended without him, too.  Heely stayed put becoming permanently stationed (for 18 months).

	Helga wasn’t the only one who was into “spying.”  After an extensive recovery in the hospital it was reassignment to the nearby US base.  After settling in the 12yr service man began scoping out the lay of the land—so to speak; the German city, housing, military housing, the locals, and so on.
	Spy Games Military Style
	Spying on fellow military soldiers was a full time occupation, it was a new MOS; Military Occupation Specialty.  There was the ever popular MOS 11B; Rifle Infantry; 13B was a cannon crewmember; 14E - PATRIOT Missile System Enhanced Operator/Maintainer.
14J    Air Defense C41 Tactical Operations Center Enhanced Operator Maintainer 
15B   Aircraft powerplant repairer
19K   Armor crewman
21M  Firefighter
25C   Radio operator
	Sgt. Heely was in the Signal Corp; in the beginning of his illustrious career he was the designated schmuck who ran that black communications wire by hand, off the back of a jeep, or out the back of a 2 ½ ton truck.  Most of the communication wire came on a large spool—when the spool ran empty you simply “spliced” the spun out wire to a new spool.
	Heely also operated radios and a SB-86/P (switchboard); track vehicles, APCs, organized pool games, deep pit barbeques, killer barbeque sauce, poker games at the motor pool, and avoided serious hard work at all costs.  ‘cant go wrong with a broom in one hand and an adjustable wrench in the other!’

	For the first two-three weeks of a soldier’s deployment to non-warring Germany there was the ever popular “orientation.”  After First Formation (6AM), those new to the country went off base to a school taught by a German woman who spoke English better than the soldiers she was in charge of.  The orientation was to teach the Joes & Joesaphines a little basic German language, culture, customs, and history.  (we all pretty much know about Germanys “history.”)
	The orientation usually lasted 2-hours.  Thereafter, the Joe and Joesaphine ambled back to their perspective barracks, motor pool, office, or wherever they were supposed to be working.  There were two military barracks (US) in this particular place Sgt. Heely had come to.  One installation was in the German city itself, the other was a few minutes outside of the city.
	And that thing about “too many cooks?”  Worked in the military, too.  Very little accountability—lots of soldiers, coming and going soldiers, the end of action in Vietnam, American politics soaring, and so on.  It was just “assumed” that perspective soldiers were where they were supposed to be.  The only time a soldier not where he was supposed to be and something went wrong—then there was trouble.  If a soldier “checked in” with a superior—sometimes a lowly sergeant or a lowly lieutenant, then all good and well and no one the wiser about the soldier fluffing off.
	Heely quickly made friends with the soldiers in his platoon and company; this allowed him to fluff off, fuck off, sham the army.  In the Navy, Heely heard tell, a sailor in need of fluffing off crawled in between the piping below decks, into the air conditioning ducts, or carried a mop from one end of the mess hall to the other…
	In the Marine Corp; there were trees to climb up into; tuck oneself under a tank, jeep, or helicopter.  	The airmen in the Airforce had their special places to be “unseen.”
	Coast Guard, too.
	Sgt. Heely found a few sound places to shirk responsibilities and not all were confined to space on the base.  Much more interesting places were off-base which led the career man to find interesting tidbit information like—
	Just a couple of days upon arriving to Stomp-a-Lott Barracks outside of the German city named after a pig crossing then did Heely site in on what he thought was a moose.  Upon closer inspection—it was (but in human form.)  Melannie Squashurcunt, Lieutenant First Class, was a LARGE woman, mid late 30s, six foot six inches tall, kinda broad shoulder, brick wall endowment.  She was a formidable woman who was in the ministry of all things.

	She wasn’t a preacher but worked behind the scenes and worked mostly with families and their children, teaching Sunday school on a nearly daily basis to those children who did not go to school due to their young age and their parental units were military members.
	Lt. Squashurcunt was unmarried, a divorcee, and had three children; the oldest was fourteen, then a twelve year old came along with a meekly eight year old last.  The first born was going to be like her mother—tall; at fourteen years young she was already six foot tall!
	Although divorced, Melannie wasn’t “dead” and had the company of another lieutenant; a tall lanky fellow in the Engineer Corp.  Sgt. Heely had a “feeling” about the man, he didn’t look right in the Army uniform and was more appropriate in civies (civilian clothes.)
	Lt. Kondor Kondorian got Sgt. Heely’s attention fully when one evening at an on-base community church Kondorian and Squashurcunt were off to one side of the building while the rest of the congregation were on the other side enjoying a small festival, concert, and puppet show.  Heely watched as Kondorian checked and checked and re-checked his surroundings before initiating some naughty business.  Kondorian wasn’t as tall as Squashurcunt—no one was as tall as Squashurcunt, a head shorter and a lot less broad, the two were an odd pair and would stand out conspicuously if not “hidden.”
	Off to the one side of the church were quite a few trees, bushes, shrubs, military vehicles not for use but to look at—German and US Army type, crates of this and that, and a generally good place to go and be unseen in the waning hours of daylight.
	Heely thought at first it was just a couple sneaking out to do some naughty business.  But after a couple of minutes--
	Very boldly and did Lt. Kondorian take his pants and skivvies down.  Although not as tall as Melannie he made up for it with a “more than average” cock.  The man flopped it, wagged it, then humped it against Melannie’s face before the woman took it into her mouth.
	What was striking, though, was the fact that Kondorian seemed to have something in his left hand.  Heely had to risk getting closer.

	From his vantage point under a German Army vehicle Heely was as close as he could get.  Kondor Kondorian doggie-styling Melannie Squashurcunt.  The woman grunted but made no other comments or movements suggesting she was into the sex act or not.  Kondor humped her from behind, slapping her ass now and then working up a full head of steam.

	Lt. Kondorian had just taken his clothes to his ankles; Squashurcunt’s clothes were off to one side—and right by Kondorian was an object of interest for Heely.  As Kondorian put it to Melannie he would pick up the interesting object, do something, then put the object down and continue fucking.
	Finally the man came; he pulled out and slapped Melannie’s ass with his saucy cock then picked up the “interesting” device and did something to it; Melannie turned about and took Kondor’s cock to her mouth again, cupped his balls and finished him off.
	Voices distracted (and frightened) Kondor; he stood up quickly in a near panic mode.  Some children were getting too close, running amok around the church and encroaching upon his naughty hiding spot.  Melannie remained on all fours, naked.  
	“Show’s over, bitch.” Kondor said dryly; he pulled up his clothes then took painstaking minutes to redress Melannie, too—and inadvertently kicked the device right to where Heely was hiding!  
	It was, of course, an EMAD.  An early version having very little enhancing abilities.  Heely, at the time, wasn’t too familiar with the evil object, but was familiar enough to know what they were capable of.
	With Squashurcunt dressed, Kondor panicked searching for his missing object—Heely scooted the Device out to where it could be found then slid back further under the track vehicle.  Kondor snatched up the minding device and with Lt. Squashurcunt left the area.
	Heely remained on his belly under the German vehicle a long time.
	He needed to get back to his barracks, take a shower, go to bed.  And just as he was about to move—Kondorian returned—this time with a child!  Heely knew that the man was his kind of scum—and that the man was using/operating a non-military device!
	The little girl was approx. eight or nine; short brown hair, short-shorts, blue top, flat chested.  Kondorian guided her to the spot where he had just had shenanigans with Lt. Squashurcunt.  Looking around a little more nervously than he had earlier, Kondor “whipped it out” and humped the little girl’s face!  He did!  Hump-hump-hump, gouge, grind, and hump some more; then the little girl put her fingers about the man’s more than average cock and jacked him off while kissing the head of his more than average cock.
	Heely had wood.
	It wasn’t the man that caused Heely to have wood, or the little girl, just the actions.  Kondorian managed to manage his cock into the little girl’s mouth and hump there for a few—all the while checking area for security purposes.  Evening was upon them and soon the festive partgoers would be scurrying to their barracks and off-base housing.  There wasn’t much time.
	Regardless of the limited time problem, Kondor went to his knees, caressed the young girl—who was the daughter of a sergeant, and tugged her powder blue shorts down—followed by her panties.  The little girl did nothing—her mind was at the mercy of the early model EMAD.
	Lt. Kondorian smoothed his hand over Kathy’s little ass; smacked it, dug his fingers into the crack, then laid the child down, removed her shorts and panties, then “went down” on her.  Heely was in fits.  Now came the question—was it still the “act” of debauchery or was it something else?
	Little Kathy got her cunt licked out—and then some, before the brash Army officer scooted up and placed his manhood against her.  Heely was awestruck and slowly worked out his own manhood and began humping.  Kondorian was humping, too; grinding his cock against the wee child’s sex.  It wasn’t clear if there was penetration—Heely didn’t think so.  But what if there was?  Quite a quandary for Sgt. Heely.  Instinct One was to bust the man, confiscate his Device, rescue the child, and keep the Device for himself.
	Instinct Two was to bust the man, then help himself to the little girl.
	Heely did neither.
	Kondorian humped and humped; grinded and grinded until finally releasing his liquid goo.  The man made an audible sound of very satisfying joy.  He humped a little more thoroughly soiling the innocent child’s snatch; then he fingered her pussy as he lay resting beside her.  It was then that Heely wanted to be there, too; fingering the little girl’s pussy, humping her, and spilling his own seed upon her.
	Oh!

	In the days that followed—Lt. Kondorian got very friendly with Lt. Squashurcunt and her three girls.  The friendliness got kicked up a notch one evening and Heely was there to see it.

	At Lt. Melannie Squashurcunt’s off-base house Lt. Kondorian was “out of uniform.”  Heely thought Melannie to be “alright.”  She was big—very big, broad, tall, but she was a nice woman, Christian, and had a way of getting people motivated to do things that they normally wouldn’t do—you either did it or she would sit on you and you would never be heard from again.
	Oldest girl, Anne Marie, was on all fours, naked.  The girl had long brown hair, more than average sized titties for a girl her age, and six foot length thanks to her more than average in height mother.  Kondorian—also naked, spanked the tall teenager, not hard but enough to make the sound of spanking and jiggle the girl’s goods.
	Twelve year old Lynn Marie stood by clad in her panties.
	Eight year old Sade Anne stood completely naked.
	Kondorian had a serious stiff stiffy.  Melannie lay naked on the floor—freshly fucked, spanked, and peed on.  Kondor was after Melannie—he was after her girls.  (and with a little thing like the minding device he had them!)
	Although he had just fucked Melannie and subsequently came off in her, he still had wood.  After pulling out and sat back to massage his cock, eying the naked girls as he did so.  While he had been putting it to Melannie, he had the girls strip off their clothing—but had Lynn Marie stay in her panties (like most pervs, there was a certain thrill see young girls in their panties.)
	Once Kondor got his rocks off in the girls’ mother, he straddled her and eyed the girls while continuing to please himself.  A river of cum oozed out of the woman’s incredible pussy—it wasn’t very snug or tight so there was a struggle to get off.  Heely thought the woman probably was unsatisfiable—she probably fucked the gun turrets on tanks!
	Then Kondorian stood and to very muchly confirm that the woman was very-very-very under control of the minding device—he peed on her.  It further convinced Kondor (and Heely) that the minding device definitely had a good hold on the family.  After his piss (and shake) he stood before the lovely Lynn Marie.
	For twelve, the girl was pretty flat chested—and hairless!  The hair on her head was brown—light brown and hung loosely way down her lovely body—to the small area of her back.  Usually she had her hair in a supper long ponytail, sometimes twin braids, a different style every week or so.
	Kondor stood before her and blatantly masturbated.  
	Lynn Marie did nothing but stare blankly.
	Kondor leaned in pressing the head of his pissy cock to the girl’s lips.  Then, with a gentle hand to the back of her head he pushed the child’s head bringing her lips over the bulbous tip of his dick.  Heely had to pause and wonder just how diabolical the man could be?  Were there any limits to his debauchery?  (no)
	After most of his pud was in the girl’s mouth—he moved her back and forth.
	Little Sade Anne standing on the other side of on-all-fours Anne Marie, began to pee.  It got Kondor off—he began fucking Lynn Marie’s mouth faster and faster watching as a steady stream of young girl pee squirt out of her bald virgin pussy.  Suddenly and there was orgasm—Kondor Kondorian began squirting his liquid love; pulling out he ejaculated the rest of his spew onto the sweet girl’s face.
	He still wasn’t thru, though—not by a long shot.

*
I came, I saw, I came all over the place!
	Life in a foreign country was a little diff than State Side.  And every foreign country was a little diff than another.  Sgt. Heely had heard the plumb spots to land were Hawaii and Japan.  US forces had location all over the world, most were Germany, Hawaii, and Japan.  Germany was alright; he dreaded the coming winter, though—Bob Heely was a Spring/Summer man, not a Fall/Winter man.
	For the next few days after the Squashurcunt incident, Sgt. Heely kept to himself out of the way at the shop/motor pool.  His thoughts were solely on Lt. Kondorian.  The man had no compunction about what he did to the Squashurcunt family; after jerking off into and then onto Lynn Marie’s mouth and face he took his johnson to Anne Marie’s ass and slapped it as hard as he could.
	The spying Heely grimaced as he didn’t think he himself could do such a thing—not with the force Kondorian was doing.  Finally the man’s dick was sufficiently hard enough and into Anne Marie’s dung hole he went.  With hands on her sides, the man jammed his rod into the girl’s backdoor and drove it home.  A reach-around was done, fingering the girl’s pussy and then her dangling bodacious titties.  When he got going, he caressed Sade Anne’s ass, fingering her wet pussy and lusting heavily.
	Nearly eight minutes was spent pounding Anne Marie’s ass.  When orgasm finally came—Lt. Kondorian was more than spent and fell away.  Huge gobs of cum oozed out of Anne Marie’s asshole the size of a manhole cover!  Kondorian lay off to one side clutching his aching/smoldering cock.
	It would be half an hour before the man returned to deflowering the family.

	After plugging Anne Marie, Kondor spanked her ass (with cock and hand) then on his knees hugged twelve year old Lynn Marie, squeezing her ass, digging into her crack, and pressing her young lily white body to his.  Afterwards, the girl was laid out on the nearby sofa and promptly licked out.
	Bob didn’t know how much more he could take!
	Lynn Marie was quite a little cutey; that lily white body was in serious need of sunshine but other than that she was ok.  Just a slight layering of pubes on her pussy, small almost developed breasts, and butt bare assed naked!  Kondorian licked and licked, jammed a finger up her ass followed by his cock into her pussy.
	Heely didn’t think himself to be much of a pervert—well, not to the level of debauchery Lt. Kondorian was.  However, Sgt. Heely did have major wood and DID have immoral thoughts about doing exactly what Kondor was doing.  When the lieutenant went on to molest eight year old Sade Anne—Heely drew the line there.

And then…
	Keeping tabs on Lt. Kondorian—who was at the other military base, keeping himself out of trouble by being seen working and then slyly slipping away unseen, was a bit of a stretch from Sgt. Heely.  After having his way with the Squashurcunt family, Lt. Kondorian laid low—he got busy with his military work and kept himself busy annoying Heely who was hot to see what else would happen.
	Then came the day whereas both military bases would migrate to the countryside for war games.  Bob regarded the maneuver as a big waste of time and a major pain in the ass.  But it was the military way of doing things schmuck supposed to do?
	Being a sergeant, though, he could “roll the shit” down to subordinates.
	Coordinating, barking orders, motivating lower class soldiers was a thrill for him; also a chore.  DOING something was sometimes better than giving the orders to do it.  Lots of prep work before actually heading out but there was still time enough for one more spy job.

Happenstance
	Romping about the wilderness of German land was supposed to be secretive—just the US military on the know.  Well, Sgt. Heely found it amusing that despite the efforts of military Higher Ups in charge that there were Germans in their Volkswagon buses hocking goods military personnel wanted—food, treats, drink, nick-knacks, etc.
	While running communication line thru thick woods and coming out to where the communication line would hook up to a joint contraption where communication was available to other military units camping out.  And right there was a German hocking his wares.
	There, too, was Lt. Kondor Kondorian.
	After securing some tasty treats and drink, Sgt. Heely did his impersonation of a Pathfinder and followed Lt. Kondorian.  Kondorian came out to where there was a large canal, a farmer’s field, and a small village.  A small expanse of trees was on one side of the village, and a serene county side everywhere else.  By the canal there were two small German children playing at the water’s edge.  There was a small bridge spanning the canal; a great rocky hill was just on the other side and the canal went thru.  Lt. Kondorian approached the children, one girl about eleven or so and the other about a year younger (or so.)
	The treats freshly acquired were used to “lure” the two children.  Heely had to risk exposure to cross over from the woods to a better position by a boulder and where the army jeep was with all the communication stuff.  Knodorian slyly guided the children down the embankment of the canal and then under the rock bridge…
	By the time Heely got a better vantage point, Kondorian had both girls in his clutches—that is to say; the oldest girl, the eleven year old or so girl was laid out on the bank, her short blue pants and pink panties were at her ankles, her legs opened wide, off-pink top pushed up, and Lt. Kondorian grinding himself against her sex.
	Kondor’s cock was stiff and grinding hard against the mind zapped girl; her sister stood next by; her short green shorts and floral print panties at her ankles.  As Kondor humped he caressed the standing girl’s ass.  Penetration was beginning; the girl being penetrated began to squirm and call out.  Kondorian slapped her face and drove his manhood into her determined to fuck-rape the girl.
	Suddenly,
	“Was verstehen Sie darunter?” 
	From what little Sgt. Heely understood of German, the German farmer coming over the hill said “What’s going on here?” or something to that effect.
	Lt. Kondorian jumped up, stumbled a bit due to his pants and undies at his ankles and dropped the EMAD he had been reaching for.  The German farmer made some inaudible incomprehensible comment and charged over the embankment (with his rifle!)
	Kondorian grabbed his side arm, military issue standard .45.
	The farmer aimed and fired his weapon—
	Lt. Kondorian fired his weapon—
	Both men fell with the farmer rolling into the canal.
	The little girl standing gasped and held her hands curled under her chin.
	The young girl laying down sat up and had a very confused look on her face.
	Sgt. Heely didn’t have a lot of time—the shots fired would surely alert the locals.  Maybe.  The day was young, overcast, maybe a good day for hunting?  Heely didn’t know the hunting practices of the German locals; he had seen some ducks, geese, grouse, and rabbit running amok while he humped it across the Fatherland.
	Darting quickly out to the Lieutenant he checked him for his life status.
	Nada.
	A clean shot right thru the chest.  ‘he’s dead, Jim, he’s dead!’
	The farmer was floating face down in the canal—equally lifeless.
	Heely’s eyes fell on the stunned girls—then the device that had stunned them.  The girls were actually “aware”—just stunned by the events before them.  Grabbing the EMAD and giving it a once over—for no other reason than “just because” Heely zapped the girls back to electronical stun.  Then he took a breather to figure what-what.
	Upon hearing no one calling out are mass assembling, Heely crawled up the embankment.  No one was about.  No one.  hmmm
	Back at the stunned girls, Heely was nervous; a dead German farmer and a dead US Army officer—not good.  Not too mention two mind stunned young German girls.  The chaos of the event would transcend everything—the commotion would be felt world wide with the US occupation taking a serious beating and berating from the community and yea the civilized world.  And hopeful—hopefully, would not be anywhere near the center.
	The operation of the minding device he had no idea.  There were a few buttons, sensor pressure buttons; an illuminated three screen LCD 3-inches across the top; a red button; something possibly a power indicator; an oscillator, and dials indicating strength output.
	“Are you alright?” he asked firstly.
	Neither girl answered but the one who had been standing peed.
	If he helped the girls—there would be chaos.  The locals would be infuriated.  The farmer had every right to shoot the army lieutenant—but, the Army would not look kindly on the farmer, either.  Chaos.  
	Another check for security’s sake then—
	The girl who had very nearly been raped was Anna—her name was written via embroidery on her shirt as well as on the back of her shorts.  Her standing sister was Gabriela.  Heely returned to the girls; Anna had sat up but the minding device had sufficiently stunned her mind back to mindless mode.  Waving his hand before Gabriela there was the assurance that she, too, was sufficiently stunned.
	The farmer had been sucked under the canal bridge; the rock bridge was made out of a huge rocky hill.  The water surface was smooth and glass-like, but there was a severe current beneath.  The canal went under the bridge and rocky hill for a hundred yards or so popping out the other side to meandering lazily thru the countryside beyond.
	Heely rolled his shoulders then squatted before Anna—
	With hand to her butt he groped—followed by fondling.  The fondling was followed by squeezing then laying the girl down.  Another look around for security then he took a long hard gander at Anna.  She was already partially naked; her breasts were small, delicate, available.  Heely fondled them, groped, and squeezed before freeing his cock and giving it a good stroking.
	“Did you fuck her?”
	Bob hated having his story interrupted; he scowled at his interruptive daughter, “Let me finish!”
	Gliding his cock up and down Anna’s virgin slit, Sgt. Heely prodded until the bulbous tip of his cock was gouging its way into her sex.  Cupping her butt his rock hard staff rushed into the girl decisively deflowering her.  She made a quip, blinked her eyes and undulated her mouth.  Heely pushed her legs open and finished the job in essence answering his daughter’s plaguing question.
	When done, Heely used the girl’s own panties to clean her up with help from the canal water.  Then he rolled the girl over and proceeded with the sister.
	“Holy cow!” blurted Helga, “You did her, too!?”
	Bob chortled but didn’t answer her directly.
	With Gabriela, Sgt. Heely looked her over and finished getting her out of her clothing, then laid her across his lap to spank.  His cock was busting although it had just cum generously in Anna’s pussy.  One spank, two spank, three spank, FOUR!  The young girl’s ass turned a bright shade of red and she was barely aware!  Heely was awed at how well the minding device zapped the victim’s mind.
	After spanking, Gabriela was positioned on her sister (with her hips raised.)
	The two-way radio of Lt. Kondorian’s began squawking—time was getting short and Heely had to amscray—be someplace else in a damn quick hurry.  But first!
	A little spittle, a little finger intrusion and Bob was stuffing the ten year old girl’s very virgin asshole with his rock hard cock.  With hands on hips he shoved himself into her hole and fucked heartily for several minutes—
	Then he heard voices, two or three calling out the girls’ names.
	Time to go.
	Heely pushed the Lieutenant’s body into the canal, pulled the girls up into the area of the canal embankment where it was very dark and creepy, dressed them (after cleaning them) and throwing their soiled panties into the water.  Then he slinked along the water’s edge by the cattails and pampas until he reached the safety of the woods where he regrouped himself and hauled ass back to his in-field base camp.

*

How can you keep milk from going sour?
(Keep it in the cow)
	“Wow!  Way to go, Dad!” the proud exclamation was a little startling considering the offense.  Bob was a little stricken by his daughter’s lack of concern for his lack of morality.  She didn’t seem alarmed or the least bit concerned about his actions with the German girls.

Important questions we should all know…
Ist es der rote oder der grüne Knopf, der die Bombe entschärft?
(Is it the red button or the green button that disarms the bomb?)
	In case you were wondering—the farmer popped up some weeks later many miles away (and not in good condition.)  Lt. Kondorian—wasn’t found until a year later when reconstruction of a weir was done.
	No one tied either man to the incident aforementioned.
	No information was known about the two German girls.
	Sgt. Heely gained another rank which kept him kind of busy for awhile until he settled into the new positioned; then he was once more resuming sneaky sneakiness sneakingly.
	The absconded minding device from Lt. Kondorian took a little time in deciphering its operation.  Months later and Heely still had limited insight—but it was enough to know the prime operation and that was all that counted.
	On one of his spying sprees he spied on a fellow NCO from the city based Army base, Staff Sergeant Nolittle.  For the few months Heely knew Nolittle he wasn’t aware that the tall slender man had a family—in country or Stateside.  There was no “ring” and the conversations over beer while assembled at some gathering spot never included “family” discussions.
	But there was a “feeling” about the reclusive man and so SFC. Heely just had to find out.  He was amused at what he found out—very amused.  Unlike most NCOs, Nolittle had off-base housing in a common area where most military personnel were housed.  And unlike most military personnel, SFC Heely had a house, not an apartment.
	While visiting a fellow non-com late one night, Heely just happened to note that the house next door was Nolittle’s!  Happenstance!  Coincidence!  Insightful!  Delightful!  The apartment being visited was up on the 3rd floor—giving direct view to the small quaint German house right next door separated by a simple wooden fence between the properties—and right into the back situated bedroom.
	Heely just happened to see two teenage girls which got his attention right off.  Furthermore, the girls were naked.  Heely’s interested was high—then he saw Nolittle administrating discipline—spanking!  Both girls didn’t seem to be in too much distress; they were topless, one had her jeans and panties at her ankles, the other was stark lovingly naked.  “Charlene” was the oldest at sixteen, Polly was two years younger.  Charlene was a bit bigger in body—not overweight, not chunky or even pudgy—just bigger.  Bigger titties for one.  A little short in stature for her bigger parts but she was still in line for weight comparisons with her fellow peers.
	Polly had a smaller body, avg. size, with smaller titties, small butt.
	Charlene had raven dark hair, long, curly, silky.
	Polly had shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes.
	For the look—Heely could only see the girls as they were on their knees against a bed laying down it.  They twisted as the discipline was delivered by their dad; Heely could just barely see the man—mostly his elbow.  Inching the window up, Heely could just hear the spanking being delivered and it got him wood.

	Four other sergeants were in the apartment; beer, pizza, barbeque chicken, bullshit.  Heely knew two non-com females he could go to “get some.”  He knew one lieutenant female he could go to to bang and get his rocks off.  He settled for gouging his erection and continuing to watch the disciplining measures.
	What the girls did—if anything, warranted seriously spanking.  And what the implement used for said spanking remained unknown, too; until at length Charlene stood up then sat on the bed—then pulled her legs back!  Then her dad, her NAKED dad, stepped in further view bearing an oversized ping pong paddle.
	More than anything did Heely want to be there; he wanted to see the smacking of paddle to bare ass/pussy; he wanted to feel the heat from the freshly smacked ass; he wanted to see the girls nakedness; and then he wanted to do some spanking himself.
	Nolittle moved to be at the wall side giving Heely the full view of the naked man and his hard-on.  He smoothed his hand over Charlene’s already blistered ass and gave it another smack vertical before slipping that impressive hard-on into the girl’s pussy.
	Heely nearly blew his load right then and there.  He knew in the States a daddy could get as many as ten-fifteen years for such an act.  Being in Uniform it would be a lot more—loss of benefits, rank, pension, and freedom.  Sergeant Nolittle, though, didn’t seem to care and shoved his fuck stick into the teenager pumping furiously for a few minutes—all the while the girl didn’t seem to be too distressed.  She did cry some, slung her head side to side, grimaced, but otherwise didn’t seem to be distressed…
	Then the man pulled out and shoved his meat into the girl’s asshole.
	Heely had no choice but to pull his own meat stick out and give it a whack.
	SFC Nolittle then pulled out, slapped his dick against his daughter’s crack and pussy before reaching over not-so-kindly and grabbing a holt of his other daughter’s head and brought her to where to suck him.  Heely hammered his cock and thought of himself in the same postion—or behind the girl cramming himself into her ass.
	A few sucks and Nolittle was back sloughing his way into Charlene’s pussy and subsequently cumming off.  The man went rigid and gave his all.  The finale pumping lasted almost a minute before he pulled out and Polly once more sucked his cock—sucking it cleanly this time.  Thereafter she was directed to suck her sister’s cunt clean.
	It was too much for Heely—he finished jerking off in the bathroom then return to his buddies to play cards.  He lost every hand with his mind solely on what he had seen and thinking of how he could be a part of it.

	Getting to be “buddy-buddy” with Sergeant First Class Nolan Nolittle wasn’t easy; he was alright but kept himself to himself when off-base and not on duty.  Heely had problems getting sufficient free time with the new rank came new responsibilities—a euphemism for “big pain in the ass.”  But to appease higher ups, superiors, and fellow soldiers, he did his best to keep on everyone’s good graces and sight.
	All his “good work” earned him so well deserved time off.  No time was wasted in getting back to Charlene and Polly—and as luck would have it, the girls’ soldier daddy was with his unit in another town a day away.  The girls were “on their own.”
	The girls were on their own but not alone; a woman was in the house, not their mother or even close, but a friend of the family who lived nearby.  Although equipped with the EMAD, Heely held off.  More than anything he wanted to see Charlene and Polly naked, on their backs, legs back.  The family friend was ok; doable, but Heely wasn’t into her—for one, she was as old as he was!
	It would be another couple of days before Heely found the girls in the small house—alone.  Then he just had to wait until it was dark enough.  There was no time to lose as their girls’ daddy was due home in a day or two.  If Heely wanted to get his rocks off with the girls—he had to do so quickly.  With the backdoor unsecure—penetration was close at hand.
	Turns out, the girls were already naked—and doing it.
	“Doing what?”
	“Fucking each other.”
	Wow.
	Yep.
	Charlene, although older, was not in command or control; younger sibling Polly ran the show and was bossy.  Sticking out of Charlene’s ass was a bit of a candle; Polly wore a strap-on harness with a prominent 8-inch cock (black and with testicle attachment.)  On her back, legs back, Charlene wriggled as her younger sister shoved the black phallic into her pussy.  It was quite a scene—one of which not only Heely viewed but so did the girls’ daddy who caught them in the act—which led to his having his way with them at will WITHOUT a minding device!
	But it was fat chance that the girls would be willing subjects for his sexual whim.  It was possible but he wasn’t sure.  It wasn’t ideal—or even surreal to serene, but it would do.  Just as Polly was deeply in the groove of her hapless sister, ZAP!
	The indicators on the EMAD showed that both minds of Polly and Charlene were “captured” and manipulable.  The only light was in the girls’ shared bedroom; Heely turned off all other light and closed the curtains, locked the door.
	For a full minute or so he stood gawking at Polly wearing the strap-on.  For fourteen, she was quite a nice looking girl.  Quite.  Nice trim body, small breasts, tight young teenage ass, trimmed poon.  A lovely face, ski-slope titties, flat stomach, long neck.  The wearing of the dildo was a remarkable turn-on.  Very remarkable.  Slowly he came up to Polly who was bent partially onto Charlene’s bed—the strap-on cock buried completely into her sister’s cunt.  Slowly he moved his hand over Polly’s ass.  His balls surged and desires increased ten-fold.

	With his hands on Polly’s hips he reveled in pure unadulterated joy.  The bliss of just “touching” was more than words could express.  The girl’s young body was just sensational.  Sensational!  Up and down her sides, cupping her breasts, caressing her ass, then “reaching around” to finger her pussy—this after removing the contraption she wore, sent Sgt. Bob Heely into a euphoric trance.
	Before long, though, he did manage to slip his prong into Polly’s pussy; gently bending the girl down onto her bed he parted her legs and eased into position.  There still was a little intrinsic trance to deal with—the girl’s pussy was nice—real nice.  Sliding in (and out) gave such pleasure Bob was simply beside himself.  His cock surged, swelled, and delighted in the act of wickedness.  A nice slow fuck it was—sliding in and out—in and out—in and out until such time whereas speeding up was necessary to maintain the pleasure level.
	Finally the orgasm and there was a new level of pleasure to wallow in.  Bob kept his prick stuffing into the fourteen year old’s pussy not wanting to lose the incredible joy he was currently reeling in.  But the decrease of pleasure was inevitable.  He came all that he could and when the pleasure had diminished significantly he pulled out—only to slap his cock against the girl’s ass, drag himself up and down her ass crack and by staring at the other girl, Charlene, get hard again.

	His cock was smoldering by the time he pulled out of Charlene’s cunt.  The hour was late and Bob had to hustle back to base to grab some needful sleep; first call was at 5AM with first formation at 6AM.  Being a Wednesday it was the Captain’s program to have the company run five miles out to the helicopter staging area; a route thru the obstacle course, then a march back to the barracks—before breakfast!
	Bob loved on Charlene, mawing her breasts, shoving his fuck stick into her cunny, humping for all he was worth to get his second nut.  He wanted to hump up the girl’s butt—and do Polly there, too.  But there was no time—and his cock wasn’t able to do the job, either.  

 	He paused long enough to ogle the girls and presume that he would once more “visit” the girls and have his way again.  He showered and put the strap-on back on Polly, then nestled her into position on her sister—the strap-on’s cock fully in Charlene’s snatch.  Then he hot footed it out to grab a taxi and get himself to bed.

They McCoys; they’re real!
	Missionaries weren’t just humping in the jungles to convert the locals; they also settled in civilized places like Germany.  On US military bases there were churches of this and that headed by US military preachers (of this and that.)  Outside the bases there were “missionaries” who brought the gospel to other US military folk—plus the locals.
	One such missionary family was the McCoy family.
	The McCoy family was at a nearby park from the home they had where they invited locals and military personnel to come visit, hang out, listen to some preaching, be a part of a bigger family.  Sgt. Heely was at the park with some others taking a break from the rigors of military life when he took note of the McCoy children—Joel, Krista, and Justin.  Mostly Krista—she was all of fifteen, short bouncy brown hair, sizeable titties, nice-nice-really-nice butt, friendly and had a lovely laugh/smile.
	Then there were her two brothers, Joel and Justin; Joel was a couple years older while Justin was somewhat younger, about thirteen.  There were lots of teens about playing soccer and volleyball and at one point, Krista, struck off towards the bathrooms.  Heely watched her and had strong-strong desires for her.  Strong desires.  Inasmuch as Polly and Charlene remained steadfast in his memory sexually taunting him, drawing him, Krista took up some room in his mind, too.  He saw the girl naked, bent over, sucking her brothers’ cock while he hammered the girl from behind. 
	Little did he know…
	In his mind he thought of the girl in the bathroom—in the stall, peeing (or other); some clean up work; washing hands, fussing with face, hair, adjusting underwear—shouldn’t take more than five—seven minutes tops.
	Ten minutes later and Heely was on the move.
	He found Joel lingering haphazardly around the front of the bathroom building that had a wooden slat partition concealing the entrance to the MENS/WOMENS restroom.  Heely slyly slinked off to one side taking note of the old wooden fence that encompassed the park.  On the other side of the fence was thick vegetation and small trees.
	Also on the other side of the fence was Krista and brother Justin.

	On her knees, Krista slurped a brotherly schlong.  Justin’s just barely teenage cock was out of his pants and into his sister’s mouth.  Krista’s top was off—OFF, and so was her bra!  Slurping sounds the girl made as she devoured the cock making Heely all the more egged on to take the girl from behind.
	Finally the boy came; he pulled out and it was Krista who took his cock, worked it in her hands to “finish the job” then worked the throbbing schlong against her face!  Amazing!  No EMAD in sight!
	To describe Krista—not pudgy but not slender, either.  Bigger torso, not a fat face but it was not small.  An incredible smile, dazzling eyes, and a mouth that could suck the chrome off a ’56 Buick!  She whistled and as Justin stepped back out of the way masturbating, seventeen year old Joel climbed over the fence and quickly unhitch his pants hauling out his ever hard cock.
	Krista handled her brother’s dong, squeezed the flute then cupped and squeezed his swelled testicle sac before engulfing his manhood.  She sucked and sucked and sucked—Joel moaned, groaned, and placed a hand to the back of her head while shoving his pants and boxers down.  Then he proceeded to spank himself, rub his ass, and power fuck his sister’s mouth!
	Then, after looking around, Krista unhitched her britches and pushed them down—then in a fluid motion rolled onto her back slipping her panties off, too!  Brother Justin got first dibs—he had been standing by quietly jerking his gherkin and by watching his older bro get a Presidential he got a sufficient woody.  
	Krista wiggled on the ground getting herself completely naked.  It was amazing!  Justin got out of his clothes then moved down to first “go down” on his sister’s twat; brother Joel watched him—specifically eyeing his brother’s wiggling lily white ass all the while hammering his brotherly love tool.  Heely wondered about the two so he held off making use of Kondorian’s minding tool.
	Justin licked, lapped, loved on Krista’s cunt; the girl twisted, arched her back, bucked her cunt into her brother’s face, and frigged herself into oblivion.  Joel looked longingly (lovingly) at his brother’s ass; Justin moved up into position and somewhere along way he had slipped on a condom.  And with a mighty grunt he shoved his wrapped weeny into his sister’s glove and commenced with the making of incestuous love.

	Unfortunately, Bob didn’t know about the EMAD feature, Q&A.  He only knew of the mind zapping/stunning feature.  After stunning the naughty McCoys, Bob “helped himself” to Krista—he wasn’t interested in boys.  He gave Krista a nice plunging up the twat—his weeny NOT wrapped!  After he came off in her nice and deep, he pulled out and spanked her ass with his cock and then his hand.  Afterwards, he went merrily on his way content in his life—pursuing more interesting interests as he went.
 
Interesting event #1
	Master Sergeant John Christian Bernard Cooter was an “interesting event; attached to the base where Heely was stationed it was easier to keep tabs on him (and so he did.)  Sgt. Cooter got Sgt. Heely’s attention due to the man having two of his grandchildren visiting him.
	Unlike many Master Sergeants, MSG. Cooter was “nice.”  He was easy to get along with, joshed right along with the subordinates, and wasn’t a “barker.”  MSG Cooter worked in the mess hall.
	The “event” was spying—er, seeing, John Cooter messing with his visiting granddaughters.  The event took place not on base but in his lime green VW Bus.   The Bus was out in the woods beyond a large lake from the city the two military bases were.  Off-road, out of sight, private and secure.  The girls’ mother was with John’s wife in another city so John had the girls—and how!
	With the side door open—viewing the Master Sergeant serving up more than hash brown or Shit-on-a-Shingle, was as easy as sleeping in the loving arms of a giving woman.  The sergeant was naked—so were his two grandchildren, Allison twelve and Beverly barely ten.
	On her knees, twelve year old Allison was cute—of what the slinking spying Heely could see.  He wasn’t too close, either, and that annoyed him.  But what he saw was pretty good; and that was the naked grandfather schlepping his salami into the sex (or asshole) of Allison.  His hands on the girl’s hips he pounded relentlessly, arching his back and calling out as his pud encountered wondrous feelings all incredible and more than sensational.
	The man was balding, a little under six foot tall, thin build with a bit of belly flab beginning, in his late 50s, couple years from retiring.  While he “put it to” granddaughter number one, he fingered out granddaughter number two.  She was equally naked and had been on her hands and knees, too; then she turned to lay on her back, legs open.  Heely cussed himself for not being able to see; there was too much foliage—but of course, that foliage was concealment for the spying.  
	Sidestepping to the right and sliding on his belly to the log helped give Heely a better view—but the risk of exposure was greater.  However, that risk was minimal with Cooter’s enthusiastic wickedness.
	Cooter reverently fingered out little Beverly’s bald snatch.  The little girl giggled, wiggled, and apparently took the fingering all in stride.  The man still had his schlong going on in Allison; Heely dared being seen by raising up his head and seeing “what hole” was being violated.
	Asshole.  The granddaughter’s asshole was the “hole of choice” but Heely assumed the “other” hole was also desecrated.

	After pulling out of Allison, the master sergeant “went down” on young Beverly, licking her pussy, spank/slapping her sister, cum dripping from his cock.  Heely licked his lips looking at the girls, Allison was good looking girl (for her age.)  And it mattered not that Beverly was ten—not in the least.
	After a few minutes of tonguing out Beverly, MSG JCBC placed the girl’s legs up along his chest and seemingly penetrated the girl.  Heely was in fits but the angle of the dangle wasn’t right—he couldn’t see into the VW Bus, it was high and he was low and there was the little matter of ten feet or so distance.
	Having no other choice, Heely initiated the nifty minding device; his inquiring mind wanted to know and to know it up close and personal—very personal.  Knowing the master sergeant being a serious perv, Heely figured he could probably make friends with the man and be on equal terms with him and thusly have easy access to the girls without the EMAD’s influence.
	But be that as it may…
	Cum oozed out of Allison’s asshole, and at the ripe age of twelve her young pre-teen cunny should be smooth and “untouched.”  But it wasn’t.  Heely fingered the poon, smacked the girl’s ass and moved her so as he himself could get into her.  It was so odd to be humping the young girl while right beside him was the girl’s grandfather!
	The EMAD could be used for so many things—other than debauchery.
	A super hero!
	A villain!
	A super spy!
	Governmental uses, military uses—interrogation came to mind there.
	MSG Cooter’s cock lay up against little Beverly’s pussy—by what Heely could tell, the girl had yet to be penetrated.  Yet.  Both girls had been corrupted; just how Heely wasn’t sure.  Did the master sergeant have an EMAD of his own?  An investigation was warranted but first!
	A nice narly orgasm!
	It was a pent up cum off that took a full minute and then some to complete.
	Heely shivered and tingled all over afterwards; then he repositioned Allison back the way she was and satisfied with his doing made himself scarce.

*

I cum; therefore, I am
	A new lieutenant came to the base and into Sgt. Heely’s company.  A nice guy, tall, fresh out of collage and military school.  He tried very hard to fit in; balancing military protocols, fellow officers, and fellow non-coms he had to work with.  A difficult task.  In the interim—there was his family.
	Lt. Shane Clutchmiballs was a Christian fellow, more was it his wife was a Christian—her father was a minister and a prominent business owner, her grandfather on her father’s side was a very prominent business owner—as well as a renowned minister.  
	Three girls had Shane, Trisha, Charlotte, and Melinda.
	Trisha was a tall cutey at fifteen years young; sister Charlotte had developing developments developing; sister Melinda was another cutey at ten years young.  And wife, Lisa, was pregnant again—this time, though, a boy!
	Heely naturally took interest in the girls and saw them (in his mind) clad in their underwear AND naked (mostly naked.)  That Trisha was something Heely seriously saw himself sinking his dick into.  Pussy, mouth, asshole—spanking, jerking off onto her cute face.  He imagined that her daddy might have the same liking—there was something about the man Heely deemed illicit.  He was tall, six foot three inches, dark hair, and had a neat smile.  He spoke Chinese and a little Latin, French, and was a decent French chef.
	But the look the man had when in the presence of his children—
	Hmmm
	The wife—yeesh, the wife was alright, a head shorter than her husband, nice sizable titties, a decent butt.  There was a nice face to match the titties and butt, she was friendly, helpful, Christian—but also stern and strict in concerns with her children (and even her husband!)  Privately, she taught piano and singing lessons.   It was clear to Heely that Lisa “wore the pants” in the family.
	Shane was pussy whipped.
	Shame.  The man tried to equalize his time and spent it with his family and job; Heely saw that the man seemed more comfortable and at ease with his fellow soldiers.  It was also seen that that was something—something diabolical? about the man.  The smile—it was that darn smile; it was both sincere as well as sinister.  One evening while taking up space holding up one of the column supports for the porch of the on-base community church, Heely observed carefully Lt. Clutchmiballs as he was with his teenage daughter, Trisha.
	The light wasn’t so good out on the covered porch, inside the church was packed with a few parishioners lingering outside.  One recessed light was up inside the wooden porch ceiling, two other lights were on either side of the banister fence and they were yellow lanterns giving off an odd color scheme in the twilight.
	Shane Clutchmiballs had wood.
	Heely wasn’t sure at first but when the man leaned against the wooden banister, folding his arms, there was an obvious hard-on in the man’s not-so-tight off-duty jeans.  Heely wasn’t sure, though; not until the man slyly gouged the heel of his hand to his burgeoning erection.  Then, to seal the deal, daughter Trisha “moved into position” and nestled her teenager butt to her daddy’s crotch.
	There was a new look to the man’s face—elation and confused terror.
	Slowly—slowly-s-l-o-w-l-y did Shane place his hands on his daughter’s hips.  Slowly-slowly-s-l-o-w-l-y did he move his hands up and down Trisha’s sides.  The girl moved her butt knowingly or unknowingly against her dad’s crotch enticing him and invigorating him.
	Slowly-slowly-s-l-o-w-l-y did Shane slip his hands around to his daughter’s front; firstly caressing her stomach area, then up a little to brush the back of his hand to her very developed teenaged titties.  The girl was more in tune with the goings on inside the church than what her apparent horny daddy was doing.
	Then abruptly the girl moved away to the door to cheer and clap with the song just preformed and the next one being done by her mom at the piano.  Shane seriously gouged his hand, threw his head back and if it weren’t for the gathered people on the porch he would have whacked off right then and there.
	
	Skip ahead—skip ahead; a park picnic, lots of Joes & Joesephines with their families; other Joes and Joeses could attend, too.  Summer was winding down and some families would be returning from whence they came—mostly US bound.  Shane’s family was one (so Sgt. Heely had to work fast!)
	While at the picnic, Heely noted Shane noting middle child, Charlotte.  For one, Charlotte darted about in wide legged lavender hiking shorts.  When she did take a moment to sit and have some summer picnic potato (German) salad, she sat whereas anyone within five feet of her could see down her leg shorts to her crotch.  There, the Looker could see her crotch—bare.  No panties!  She was going Commando!  Mostly it was a “guy thing” but apparently girls enjoyed the “freedom” of drawers, too!
	Heely also saw Shane sneaking a looksee down the back of the girl’s front when she was standing in front of him and that little space at the small of her back was open enough for said looksee.
	And once more there was wood.
	An eruption was eminent when ten year old Melinda came to firstly take squat on her daddy’s lap.  After a lot of wiggling (of which it was assumed daddy Shane didn’t mind) the girl laid across his lap.  She played a little—and daddy Shane played a lot!  While Melinda fussed laying across his lap in the shade of a giant tree, Shane gently caressed her ass.  A little patting, then; when no one could possibly see—he slipped his hand up Melinda’s lime green kiddie shorts.
	Moments later and Melinda was off playing and Shane was off somewhere secluded where he commenced rightly to whacking off.  Bob knew the man had deep seeded narly thoughts of the naughty kind.  Whether or not he truly wanted to molest his girls or not remained to be seen.  We shall see…

Flat chested & hairless
	Away from his family and peers, Shane Clutchmiballs was an alright guy and more at ease.  Shirking military rank and responsibilities the man was more himself.  At a German pub way-way-way downtown and not frequented by military personnel normally, Shane and Bob had some righteous German beer.  And a lot of it!
	The already knew one another—they worked together and had done so for months.  They were on the “best friends” list, they were associates; they played baseball on their off-hours, went to church, did picnics and barbeques, and ogled the girls when no one was watching (er, other girls other than Shane’s girls…)
	So, it was a chanced happening that Bob saw Shane walking up the sidewalk of a street across the River Main.  Not a lot of military folk ventured that far but if you wanted to learn the true German language it was one of the best ways as many of the locals spoke only their language.  The two men had a rapport; a little cussing, some drinking—when no one important was around, and ogling girls of all ages—all ages.
	“Damn, if she aint got a nice butt!” Bob commented one time whilst in the company of Shane at an on-base park.
	“Dangerous!” Shane said lusting heavily.  Bob could see in his eyes that the man was seriously contemplating “jumping her bones.”
	So, after a handshake, Bob invited the man into a nearby German pub.
	“GROG!” shouted Bob as he got the attention of the “kellnerin” (waitress)
	“Est ist viertel vor vier!  Uhr zu trinken!”  (It’s a quarter to four; time to drink.)  or something close.
	“This is Fraulein Gwendolynn,” Bob said smacking his friend on the back, “finest wench in all of Germany!”
	Fraulein Gwendolynn gave a sour look to the loudmouth Bob.  But there was a wondrous smile from the woman seconds later; a cheerful scowl and warning “be mindful or I toss you out on your ear!” she spoke both perfect English as well as German and was actually an Irish woman!
	Large beer glasses with lovely German beer was brought and Bob paid her double.  The pub was a dim lit place; there were German decorations all over the walls and hanging from the ceiling; a long bar with comfy stools, several tables here and there; enough lighting to see your drink and partner—and waitress.  
	Some German sausages accompanied the brew and the two men enjoyed a fine afternoon of drinking—drinking—and more drinking.  By evening they were just a glass away from being shit faced.  At the appropriate time the two left, staggering somewhat.
	“My-my-my kill me wife my wife will.” stammered Shane.

	“We got time.” Bob said; and they staggered off to another German establishment where coffee was the name of the day.  “It’ll cure you—or kill you!” Bob said confidently.  Coffee really wasn’t a cure for inebriation (but it couldn’t hurt!)
	The coffee was strong; the men sat outside in front of the establishment at small almost too dainty café tables watching the locals drift by.  Occasionally something of particular interest darted by causing the men to linger their gaze and gouge themselves.
	“Goddamn,” Shane said uncharacteristically, “if there was someplace to take one off for a little while…”
	Bob smiled, ‘what an interesting statement!’

I’m not as think you drunk I am!
We’re not lost (reprisal) we just don’t know where we are!
	The thing with being stationed in Germany—every Soldier, Marine, Airman, and other, wants a Mercedes.  If not a Mercedes, a BMW.  If not one of those, a Volvo or an Audi; or some other occupied landscape where foreign models are manufactured.  Taking a taxi from one of the two military bases was an adventure—the German drivers seemed to take it upon themselves to scare the living CRAP out of the service personnel; the driver never seemed to get into an accident but she did “push the envelope” with his terrorizing driving—getting right-tight up to the bumper of the car in front.
	Anyways, a few months after arriving in the Fatherland, land of the Volkswagen, Mercedes, BMWs, Audis, etc; Bob acquired a personal mode of transportation—a mid ‘70s Mercedes.  It was part Piece o’ Crap and part Decent Mode of Transportation.  When he would ship out he would sell it to some other bloke (like what had happened to him) as shipping the contraption home was more than the car was worth.
	After a few cups of coffee the two men were sort of almost sober.  They fell into the Mercedes and off they went with the intent of plowing into the parking lot of their home base—way-way-way on the other side of where they were.
	Somehow, Bob found himself on Maxbrucke road and not going in the direction he wanted; then he saw a sign “Sweinfurter.”  The names of the roads seemed to change without warning or notice—only the locals really knew where they were.
	Nothing like having a good map—
	Taking a turn that dumped him onto a narrow road there came a large playing field by a side river to the Main.  He was trying to find Hauptbhnhof Strasse—but was way-way off (not too mention on the wrong side of the river!)

	Well, anyways, best make the best of it.
	She couldn’t be more than thirteen; nice form, lovely bouncy blond hair, incredibly fuckable.  And she wasn’t alone, either—another girl, a couple years younger, walked with her along the river.  Lots of trees, shrubs, and the end of the day was upon them.
	“Watch this!”  usually stated by a redneck about to do something that will not end well.  But this time, the statement was accompanied by an electronic minding device.  Shane was highly intrigued if not curious and a little stunned that the sergeant had such an illegal device.  Minding devices were considered for use by police and other law enforcing agencies to “get the truth” from perpetrators, suspects, victims; anyone brought before justice—or injustice.
	Shane was absolutely stunned when Alseia and sister Annora were brought not only TO the car—but in it!  Astounding!  Alseia, thirteen, wore American jeans, a blue top with a huge white daisy emblazoned on the front.  Sister Annora wore a short mid-thigh length dress.
	Both girls were stunned—mindless.
	With the passenger doors facing the Main River, Bob further blew Shane’s mind by “lifting” Annora’s legs.  The girl wore light orange panties, small.  Nice legs, too; a simple summery dress in the “blue” category.  Bob ran his hands up and down the girl’s thigh—with her older sister RIGHT THERE BESIDE HER staring thru the windshield—mindless.
	Shane began gouging the heel of his hand to his cock.
	Bob, sitting in the backseat with the girls pulled Annora down further in the seat placing her feet right onto the ceiling of the car.  His hands went up and down—up and down the girl’s legs, patted her butt that was right on the edge of the dingy yellow vinyl seat.  Then—THEN he pulled the crotch of Annora’s panties to one side revealing her virgin Bavarian pussy. 
	Shane went from gouging to “spanking the monkey.” 
	Bob went from “teasing” to pulling the girl’s panties off.
	From the front seat there was a moan.  Shane’s hand was wrapped tightly about his soldier, squeezing hard and seriously-seriously ogling Annora’s bare naked hairless pussy.  

	A little fingering, a little more spreading of Annora’s legs and Shane Clutchmiballs, US Army Lieutenant, Christian, melted.  His dark eyes locked onto all that fellow soldier Bob Heely did.  And Bob Heely after sliding off the girl’s panties slid off her simple summery dress.

	“Flat chested,” grinned Bob patting the girl’s flat chest area, “and hairless!” like they discussed their special unnatural desires.  Shane smiled and pulled himself over the seat squashing himself between the back of the front seats and the front of the back seats settling himself before the now naked Annora.
	Bob went to feeling out Alseia while Shane occupied himself smoothing his hand over Annora.  Long was it that Shane desired to do likewise with his girls.  He moaned (again) and a bit of pre-cum soiled the tip of his johnny.  Then, down he went applying his soldier tongue to Annora’s bald beaver.  Bob was amused and knew the deal was sealed.

	She wasn’t flat chested; she wasn’t hairless, but Alseia Ackienbach gave Bob Heely “a reason to live.”  A tight virgin pussy was foremost; the girl moaned, fluttered her eyes, and sucked in Bob’s probing prong.  Her young body was delicious, inside and out and all over.  Her budding teenage breasts were most desirable; soft, supple, delicious young apples!
	On the soft moss-like grass beside the river in the cover of darkness, Bob Heely stuffed his manhood into the thirteen year old; cupping her ass and finding the young teen a wondrous delight.  He trembled and shook all over and succumbed to a lengthy orgasm.
	Inside the car, in the backseat, family man, married man, father man, army man, Shane Clutchmiballs, fucked ten year old Annora.  He had licked out her pussy until his tongue tired out then caressed her entire body—quite possibly thinking of his own ten year daughter, Melinda.

*

To ponder:  Air travel is hours of boredom followed by a few brief moments of terror
	Lisa stared straight ahead; it was amazing.  And furthermore, to prove beyond doubt she was “mindless”—Bob brushed his hand against her lovely globes then squeezed them.  Lisa batted not an eye nor slugged the squeezer.
	Shane shook his head in disbelief.
	“Sonofabitch!” he mouthed lowly.
	Shane’s wife, Lisa, stood in the living room of their modest off-base German home clad in dark green knit slacks and a complicated frilly blouse.  Too many buttons plus a wrap around belt thing.  She was a pretty woman, she had her moments, and was a certified bitch on many-many occasions.
	Shane remained stunned into utter disbelief—exponentially so when buddy Bob managed to undo the woman’s fancy blouse and pull it off and away.  Lisa Elaine then stood in her der bustenhalter (bra)  (but not for long.)
	“I just don’t believe it!”
	“Believe it!” smiled/leered Bob as he fondled Lisa’s more than ample titties.
	Shane just stood close by shaking his head in utter amazement.
	The German home was one that was for just Shane’s family’s stay.  Once the stay was over and the family returned to the US, Shane would return to on-base housing.  The home had German furnishing, Lisa had German heritage.  A grand piano occupied space in one corner where there was a great curved bay window.  German portraits on the wall as well as tapestries.  It was a nice-nice home; two story, three bedroom, very nice kitchen, den, family room, fireplace.
	The girls were upstairs in their room—unaware of the doom pending them.
	Bob stepped around Lisa, groped her bodacious ta-tas further convincing his stunned friend that Lisa was definitely mindless.  Slowly ever so slowly did Bob undone Lisa’s slacks.  They tugged down easy enough revealing nice white panties.  Shane chanced a look up the stairs, careening his head and straining to hear the girls playing.  Then he hauled out his meat stick and tentatively gave it a good work out.
	Down came the panties with Bob sneaking his head around Lisa’s side saying, “Time for some bumsen!” (nookie!)
	Big deal, Shane had already fucked her—several times.  She was a pretty good fuck, decent enough to keep him interested; but she wasn’t all that sexually naughty—she didn’t take it in the ass and Shane so wanted to shove his fuck pucker into her German heritage asshole!
	She did blassen (suck) but not often—not often enough.  Shane got to go down on her and send her into a euphoric fit; they made love in the shower; he spanked her; she did Reverse Missionary and Around-the-World.  Shane, however, wanted more—much more.
	Out of her clothes, the woman was laid out on the grand sofa.  Bob looked her over—sure she was a bitch, bossy, a bitch, made most of the controlling issues in the family, a bitch, outshined her husband by a long shot, and did I mention, a bitch?
	With her legs up and ankles on his shoulders, Bob schlepped his salami into the woman’s pussy giving her still stunned husband a nice show.  Somehow the woman managed to keep a decent snug pussy.  Bob slammed the woman kicking the coffee table of the way allowing Shane to peek down between Bob’s wares to see the actual penetration.
	When done—and then some, Bob pulled out and stood away.  He was already exhausted, his cock had had quite the workout of late—but there was more deflorieren (deflowering) to do.

Der Drecksack
Die Drecksau/der Dreckskerl
	Bob smiled to his friend, “Well, she was ein gutter Fick!”
	Shane giggled, flogged his dog, and the two (naked) men slithered up the stairs.  Trisha had her own room but was in the bedroom of her two siblings listening to German music, dancing, being silly.  Bob wasn’t sure if he could zap the minds of the girls—three at once might be a stretch, plus they were all hyper and that could be a factor, too.
	“Das ist ja geil!” exclaimed one of the girls, Trisha.  (That’s really cool!)
	Das Holz!  Shane had wood—serious wood, the door to the bedroom was slightly open and peering in—the girls were in their nightclothes bouncing around giving their daddy a reason to live.
	“Toller Vorbau!” Bob said noting Trisha’s bouncing “knockers.”  At fifteen, the teenager had something a daddy could be proud of.  “Ganz schon Holz vor der Hutte!”
	Shane was beside himself, squeezing his dick and lusting heavily.
	eine Latte haben—and Shane definitely had on—a serious hard-on.
	Bob sighed and brought the EMAD once more into play.
	
In the middle of January, most shoppers are still cleaning up after Christmas; the first week, cleaning out the checking account; the following week, the savings account…
	With his cock swelling, Sgt. Bob Heely found extreme pleasure mixed with a little discomfort.  He enjoyed a good fuck—and stuffing his prick into twelve year old Charlotte was definitely a “good fuck.”  But, there were consequences; the previous girls from the river, the earlier shenanigans with the lieutenant, shenanigans on his own—was taking a toll on his schlong.
	On the bed across from him, on ten year old Melinda’s bed, Daddy Shane fucked daughter Trisha.  From the beginning, Shane C was mind struck; he seemed to stare off into oblivion being oblivious to all around him.  Bob assured himself that the three Clutchmiballs girls were “touched” by the electronic minding device (and they were) then moved fully into the room—his cock preceding him.
	Who to start with first?  All three girls were in their nightwear; Trisha in a knee length cotton nightgown with a floral design.  Charlotte flittered about in a pinkish frilly mid thigh nightgown while sister Melinda was in a two-piece powder blue jammy.
	Shane stood before the still mindless girls in extreme awe.  Bob squeezed the small teenage breasts of Trisha convincing Shane that “all was well.”  Being naked and standing the girls’ midst jerking off was another convincing agent.

	Shane went up to daughter Trisha, looked her over—took her hand to his cock and had HER please him.  Then he sort of embraced her whereas he cupped her ass and squeezed her body to his.  Then, off came the nightgown—no bra there was—just panties.
	“She wont know?” he asked.
	“Nope.” Bob replied, just like with the others.
	Shane sighed then slid down his daughter’s panties and eased her onto Charlotte’s bed.  Another moment was taken just looking at the naked teenager, then he went down on her—cum dripped from his cock and something strange stirred in Bob.
	“Whattya mean, “something stirred?””
	Bob wrinkled his nose, “Uh, I’ll explain that when I get to it.”
	Meanwhile, Bob removed Charlotte’s nightgown, smoothed his hand up and down her sides, legs, ass; then eased her onto Melinda’s bed and took his turn at ogling.  By the time he got her panties off, legs open, and tongue delving into her very virgin pussy—her Daddy was well on his way to imprinting his name on the pages of incest.
	Bob took his time, licked and licked and licked all over Charlotte’s pre-teen cunt; there were pubes in—a fine layering of blond pubes (her daddy’s hair was raven black!)  After much ado about licking out the twelve year old, Bob moved up laying his favorite organ against the girl’s twat and humping it.  Her young budding breasts were something to enjoy—and so he did.
	Meanwhile, 
	Shane violated his daughter’s cunt.  The girl let out a moan, a groan, and chuffed her breath as her daddy’s incestuous cock slid into her sex.  At that time, it mattered not if the girl was “aware”—fuck it, Shane was going for it.  There was the hymen to deal with—Shane’s cock dealt with it and plunged on.
	Then he spanked himself.
	Helga blinked her pretty eyes and was awed.  “He spanked himself?”
	“Yep.” Bob conferred.  “He slid his cock all the way and as he got the motion going—he started slapping one of his hands to his butt!”
	Wow.
	Bob got enthused and knew that the girl would be “sore” and feel the violation but would be confused.  Bob hoped that what he was learning more and more from his minding gadget would help soothe the child’s concerns.  Slowly he gouged his cock against Charlotte’s innocent poon—then entered therein.

*
Deforestation; debauchery; delinquent; delightful!
Dingleberry; deacetyltransferase; dehumanize; deflower
	A week after the Clutchmiballs family returned to the US and Sgt. Heely was blue.  For almost every day he and the family’s daddy ‘put it to’ the young family; double teaming Lisa and Trisha; thoroughly ramrodding Charlotte’s funk hole; and undoubtedly soiling young Melinda from head to pussy.  Bob’s dick needed to be in traction thereafter.  The molesting of Melinda was a particular joy; just “up the ass” to her (and in the mouth.)  Trisha and Charlotte got boned in all THREE of their holes.
	Plus spanking all around.
	The fucking of Trisha was a particular joy to Bob; but laying Melinda across his lap and laying his hands to her ass—spanking-spanking-spanking until the girl’s flesh turned brilliant bright red—glorious!  The warmth of the child’s searing ass thrilled Bob and after fingering her hole, she was often rolled over, her legs spread and daddy Shane rubbed his cock against her until cumming off and soiling her cunt.  He longed for the day when he could sink his cock into her fuck her proper!
	Charlotte was a good fuck; with Charlotte, Bob found (too late) that he could not only manipulate the girl’s mind into being oblivious to what was happening to her and then thusly be unaware of what HAD happened to her; but that the Subject’s mind could be altered and subjected to “suggestion.”  Bob wasn’t sure how it worked but he learned that he could subtly “suggest” a new way of life for the Subject.
	The suggestions came in a flurry—but took time to take hold.  Bob worried if the “hold” would hold—would at some time while Shane was stuffing himself into his family one of them (or all) would come “awake” and freak the fuck out!?  That would be bad—very bad.
	Shane, though, was willing to give it a try.
	Good luck!
	“Did you ever hear from him,” Helga asked interrupting again, “did the “suggestion” to the family hold?”
	“Don’t know,” Bob said, “never heard from him again.”
	Bummer.
	Before the family left—there was this interesting event:
	After humping it to Trisha, Bob sat back admiring his cock work.  Beside him and Shane humped it to Charlotte—slamming her asshole specifically.  Just before orgasmic explosion he began once more to spank himself.
	Somehow—it got Bob hard.

	Then, Shane was tonguing out Melinda’s cunt—freshly fucked by Bob AND heavily laden with spunk matter.   That was followed by Bob slamming his cock up Trisha’s cunt—doing so while the girl’s backside was pressed his front side; the girl’s left leg stretched outward held there by the pussy pounding Bob.  The two lay at an angle on a futon with Bob giving all that he could as a finale before the family moved on.
	The final orgasm came and mid way thru the cock slipped out.  Bob, though, continued to pump and hump.  He let the girl’s leg down; he heaved as he breathed then moved his hand up the girl’s side cupping her left breast and dying down his lust.  It was then that Shane did something.
	“Did what?”
	“Sucked my cock.”
	“Whoa!”
	“Yep.”
	Helga was awed—Daddy Bob was somewhat proud.
	While his cock humped Trisha’s cummy cunt; Shane took the opportunity and sucked it.  He hammered his own pud while engulfing Bob’s!  Bob was only mildly aware—then fully aware.  He affirmed to himself—and to daughter Helga, that he was not—not—NOT gay.  He steadfastly denounced any homosexual feelings—only one outburst and it was in the heat of passion (of screwing the man’s family.)
	After Shane had gotten Bob’s cock severely hard again with a little cock spittle spitting, he moved up to jam his prick into daughter Trisha and did well in slamming her.  Mid way thru the misdeed, with his legs spread and at an angle—and Bob still behind Trisha—it happened.
	“What happened?”
	“It just ‘sort of happened.’”
	In the heat of the moment and with little thought, Bob slipped his prick to Shane’s asshole.  Shane didn’t even pause in his shagging of his daughter for half a minute; then he realized he was buggered and spread his legs and yea his ass and slid himself down onto the invading der Schwanz.
	“Wow!”
	“Yep.”
	THEN what happened?
	All over Trisha’s belly—der Samen!   Lots and lots of pent up sperm squirted onto Trisha’s belly ejaculated there by her daddy.  The man was exhausted—and thoroughly sodomized!  And while Shane lay heaving on his daughter, he peered passed her to Bob behind her…

*

Yard sales are interesting; where else to you spend $20 in gas driving around in air conditioned cars to stand in the sun to argue about getting a $4 lamp for $3!
	The EMAD:  not always a requirement
	In the cool of the evening, under a billboard sign, a few hundred yards from housing, on a hill, by a seldom used backcountry road, Julie Benharr frolicked with her boyfriend, Roger.  Roger was a lanky boy, 6’3”, very slender, dorky AND geeky, a little more hair than he ought to have considering that his dad was a US Army major.  
	Julie was ripe at 17 years young, 18 years young in a little under six months.  Nice hair, strawberry blond, and lots of it—but for a girl it was ok.  Neither of her parents were in the military—but they served the military community.  Daddy Benharr (and Mommy, too) were missionaries; they served the military community as well as the German community.  They served Germany, England, Japan, Philippines, and some God-awful places Julie would rather forget.  German was nice, Hawaii would be better, someplace tropical and not infested with bugs and terrorists.
	Anyways, just as Julie was getting Roger off, headlights came beaming over the top of the hill and just at the right angle to stab into that little area of the billboard area the two teenagers were doing the naughty.  Luckily, the driver kept on going.
	So did Julie—
	So did Roger—
	Not far away, not under a billboard sign but in a self-made cave beside a farmer’s field, Jolene Benharr (right, sister of Julie) clasped the bare buttocks of her friend, Daria Dogsum.  Daria wiggled and squashed her cunt down onto the face of Jolene, giggling and cumming all the while.
	Then, up in the loft of a two car garage, Jennifer Beharr, lay naked with Lee Ballsrite.  The two ten year olds giggled as they lay in the utter darkness, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder—hip to hip.
	Roger Koslewolski moaned loudly as the sweet release of his love spewed into Julie’s pussy.  He shuddered more than she did!  Julie trembled, her toes curled—even her hair tingled and curled!  Roger panted, clutched Julie’s ass—as she was on top, and made odd faces as his cock continued to jut love and become more and more sensitive to the point of desensitized.
	Julie clenched her teenage pussy to her beau experiencing a feeling much like taking a hard early morning first pee.  It was an orgasm to beat all orgasms she had previously had scoring in the top three of her previous top orgasms.

Skip ahead-skip ahead…
	In the woods, over the hill and far (very far) from where she was supposed to be and be “in range”; Julie B and Roger K “frolicked.”  Frolic!  Frolic!  Frolic!  And they did so with four other teenagers, two girls and two boys.  And they all frolicked.  Frolic!  Frolic!  Frolic!
	And they frolicked in a pond—without their clothes on!
	But wait!  There’s more!
	After much frolicking, the group crawled out of the pond—they had been doing more than swimming, diving to the bottom of the pond, girls riding the boys’ shoulders; there, too, were couples “coupling”.  On the warm sand, some couples kept coupling.  Julie and Roger crawled onto the sand, grabbed something drink AND smoke!
	The smoke was not a name brand over the counter smoke, either.
	The “drink” was in green bottles of a German kind.
	Not so long thereafter and a slightly stoned Christian Julie mounted boyfriend, Roger.  Let the fucking begin!  Roger enjoyed Julie’s Christian titties; his cock enjoyed her Christian cunt.  Julie giggled, pumped, jiggled, and was thoroughly in control.
	A stoned Roger, a year and a half older than Julie, pumped, swam in an ocean of confused orgasmic feelings and sensations, and power fucked his girl placing his hands on her sand encrusted ass.  The girl lay down on him; they locked legs and their bronze bodies glistened in the afternoon sun.

	Despite the danger, the risk, the “being caught”, Jolene and Daria made naughty in Daria’s bedroom.  Her daddy was in the military, played with tanks and big artillery, was not an officer but some sort of sergeant.  Daria’s mom was supposed to be out for the day doing something with someone else—so the coast was so-so proverbially clear.
	An hour into being naughty with one another and Daria’s mom suddenly came back home.
	“Shit!  Piss!  Fuck!  Motherfucker!” Daria exclaimed.  The girls were trapped ‘cause the mommy figure was quick leaving the girls barely enough time to grab their discarded clothes and haul butt into the closet shutting the door “just in time.”
	The mommy figure looked into the room, called for Daria, then closed the door and went on about her business.  Daria and Jolene hunkered in the dark closet for a long while.  Then they eased up and from a squatting position they sat down with their legs straddling the other—bringing their young teenage bodies closer together until they could embrace one another—and resume naughty business.

	Pussy pounding 101 & 101A:  9AM-Noon; 1PM-4PM  M-F
	Prerequisite:  Pussy Licking 1; Pussy Finger 1A
	Reading Material:  Naughty Is as Naughty Does; Tongue Lashing; Going Down Under; Identifying Cum Stains; The Lust Factor; A Funny Thing Happened (on my way to the Slime Pit); The Pube Stand; The Clitoral Experiment; All Hands on Deck, Leave Dick Alone!
	Hands on Experience:  Exploring Your Body; Exploring HER Body
	On the bed, Jolene giggled as her friend, Daria, pretended to be the “boy” and fuck her with a small cucumber.  It was awkward and the angle of the dangle wasn’t quite right—but; the deed was a done deed with both ends of the vegetable squashed in the poons of both girls.  Movement; however, was not consistent with the exactness only a male with proper equipment could provided.
	The girls had to settle for plunging the veggie in handwise.
	And though Jolene Beharr preferred her pussy plunged and pounded by a cuke, Daria liked her veggies crammed into her asshole!
	The girls shared a kinky like of spanking one another—bare hand spanking to the use a ping pong paddle to school books, 2-inch wide dress belts, and anything else flat and handy.  Then, when the ass freshly beaten is searing red and blistering hot—the girl administering the beating pressed her pussy against the inflamed ass and pounding (spanking herself in the process!)

*

Here’s a tip:  Top tip; if you’re camping in the summer and the attractive girl in the next tent tells you that because it’s so hot she will be sleeping with her flaps open, it’s not necessarily an invitation to casual sex…Wish me luck; I appear in court next Monday.
	Wednesday Afternoon, a little after 1PM
	Maintenance on three jeeps—done
	Maintenance on five radios for said jeeps—done
	Squad review—done
	Report written on Prvt. Stockly—done
	Avoided Cpt. Skratchass—done
	Arrived at Benharr Missionary house and lined up the Missionary girls—
	Done!
	With a little space between them, Julie, Jolene, and Jennifer stood side by side.  Their parents were off doing missionary things somewhere else and not due back for hours.  The girls stood quietly; Julie in jeans and a simple top; Jolene in pink knit shorts with a mid thigh dress; Jennifer in knee length turquoise britches.

	He was sweating, he didn’t know why he was sweating but he was.  It was fairly cool in the living room; the windows were closed, the a/c on; drapes and curtains closed—all was quiet and still in the centralized living room.  But Bob Heely was sweating and didn’t feel one hundred percent.  True, since 7AM he had been on a tear to “get things done” and show/prove to superiors that “things were done” in the motor pool and ready for the bug out to the field for army games.
	‘Julie—take off top.’
	It was a new nuance Bob had found/uncovered on his EMAD.  He sighed and watched as slowly Julie Diane pulled off her top.  The bra was next and Bob smiled.  The pain and discomfort he was experiencing was put aside as he gazed at the girl’s naked chest.  He smiled and stood just some feet from her—dick out and squeezing it.  None of the three Benharr girls made any indication that they were “aware.”
	‘Take pants down.’ the next command was scrolled up in the small liquid crystal display window.  Julie pushed down her jeans then stood back up.  Bob had, of course, already seen the girl naked during his spying on her and her sisters.  But up close and personal—and private—made it all the better.
	The panties were lowered and Bob was ready to explode.
	On her knees the teenage girl on the fast track to college at not even eighteen years old yet, took Bob’s prick and sucked it.  Bob ran his hands thru the girl’s hair with desires mounting to “mount” the girl.  He shivered and shuddered and continued to push away the uncomfortable pain he was suddenly experiencing.
	After a couple of minutes in Julie’s mouth he pulled out and humped her pretty face squirting a little spunk into her hair.
	‘turn around.’ This was not a command in the scroll window but a “suggestion” that could be spoken into the on-board microphone and transmitted to the Subject/Victim/Target.
	Julie turned around.
	Bob moved to his knees, smoothed his hand over the girl’s ass; patted the girl’s ass, examined her hole, lingered a lusting moment at her fuckable cunt, then stuffed himself into her asshole for a full one minute fuck before schlepping his salami into her cunt.
	But it was the trifecta he was after so he saved cumming off for later and went to Jolene—who he deemed was the prettiest Benharr girl in the bunch.  Long blond curls, dazzling blue eyes, a sweet-sweet smile, palm sized titties, nice butt.  He went thru the motions of getting her naked and he took some pleasure in watching her undress herself.  It would have been even better if her friend, Daria, had been present.  But cant have everything.

	Cupping her young teenage butt, Bob humped himself against her vegetable fucked cunt.  The girl was mindless as could be—and Bob would have likened her to be a little more lively.  But had she BEEN more lively then Bob wouldn’t be doing what he was doing…
	Due to Jolene having her way with garden vegetables—penetration to her teenage pussy was possible.  Sliding his dick into the girl got a little reaction from her and Bob was pleased.  With the rhythm of fucking commencing there was no holding back and Bob released his love in quick succession.
	Oh well.
	Then there was Jennifer.
	She was ten.
	It wasn’t to say that Julie wasn’t pretty, either; she was older, the oldest.  Julie had beautiful hair, lovely eyes, good form, fantastic tits and above all a nice-nice ass with an accompanying cunt.  Jolene was the prettiest, whether it be because she was a young teen emerging from childhood or what remained to be seen—she was just very-very pretty.
	Jennifer had some charm, too; child-like charm.
	And she was better stark naked.
	Way better.
	With his cock shagged out and then some Bob just held the girl; patted her butt, caressed her all over, then licked out her young tender cunt until such a time there was necessary to lay on the girl and hump-hump-hump.  
	The humping didn’t help his cock so he settled for spanking.  Sitting on the floor, legs out, he brought the naked Jennifer across his lap and began applying stern swats.
	Only her ass jiggled; the girl remained “mindless.”  It sort of annoyed Bob; the lock of the mind of the Subject was one thing—but again, the desire to have the Subject more lively was something else desired.
	After a few minutes of studious spanking, Bob was hard enough and stuffed himself into the girl’s mouth firstly; working her head back and forth until he couldn’t stand it and deflowered the girl.  The naughtiness she was doing with her “boyfriend” was nil; they lay together nakedly, fondled and fingered one another, watched each other pee, and the boy rubbed his pud against her butt—but never her pussy!
	Bob rubbed on her pussy—finger first, then tongue, then cock.  He loved the taste of the girl’s pussy—the slight hint of pee, the saltiness, the innocence.  Then his cock came to play and for a moment just gouge up and down the slit—then there was no holding back and Bob plunged into her for a long hardy fuck.

	“THEN what happened?”
	I got fired on my first day as a male masseuse today; apparently the instruction “finish off on her face” didn't mean what I thought it did.
	“The a little trouble.”
	That don’t sound good.
	But before that—Four stories for your consideration to wrap up this chapter.

One)
	Daddy knows best
	Major Alton Reame and family had gone thru some bad times; while stateside a tornado rearranged their Midwest home; a flood sunk their home along the southern coast; fifteen year old son broke neck and died while skateboarding.  But the family endured; Alton’s military career took him to Germany, oldest daughter, Wendy, married and that hubby also transferred to Germany.
	All seemed sublime and going well until…
	Twelve year old daughter, Carrie, accused her officer daddy of incest.
	Alton moved out of the off-base housing to the on-base quarters where Sgt. Heely encountered him and deduced that probably what the daughter was saying was probably true.  Probably.
	While the investigation probed the family, Bob probed the major.
	The truth was found out—took a while but he got it; the major liked to drink (but only to excess!)  He was a doctor of all things, too.  AND he liked to boink his daughter Carrie “up the ass” as a matter of “discipline” and not sex—of which “up the ass” he didn’t consider sex.
	The plot thickens with Carrie.
	Bob checked in on the family—curiosity will do that to ya.  He found Carrie to be quite the nifty little girl—and conniving.  The girl’s credibility was dimmed when Carrie was in cahoots with a boyfriend.  Carrie Lynn didn’t want to be in Germany—she wanted to be back in the States with her friends, the mall, things she liked and enjoyed.  So, with her boyfriend, they concocted a means of getting the daddy transferred back to the states.  That was thought of what would happen if Carrie cried incest.
	She was unaware of any other mitigating circumstances.
	With the boyfriend, Carrie firstly got him to let her suck him.  She did!
	The cocksucking was so as if anyone asked her—she would know what to say what the “cock” tasted like, what it looked like, all that.  Daddy Alton only plunged his way up her ass—he never went into her pussy OR mouth (but of course, he wanted to!)
	After a few times of playing on her boyfriend’s flute, she spread her legs and got promptly well fucked.  The bewildered boyfriend, of course, was all for it.
	Then, to add fire to the flame; married daughter, Wendy, had sudden memories freed from repression.  Daddy boned her up the ass during disciplinarian action, too!  She found her butt-fucking daddy in her big two-story off-base house and went ballistic on him.  Daddy was ok to visit the Nope family, Lt. Don Nope was in the medical field, too, and wasn’t sure what his wife’s sister was saying was true knowing how well he knew (or thought he knew) of the girl’s daddy.
	Anyways, Wendy was “out of control” and no matter of trying to calm her down was going to work.  From the bedroom where Alton was watching the newest member of the family, 6-month old Aliesha, to the hallway where it happened.
	“What happened?”
	“It just “sort of happened”, a fluke if you will—it wasn’t intentional.”
	“WHAT wasn’t intentional?”
	“He hit her.”
	“And?”
	“And she whirled, fought back and with emotions high they tangled and he pushed her.”
	“Then what?”
	“Then she went toppling, tumbling, down the stairs.” to end up in a crumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs on the wood floor.  Oh shit!
	Yep.
	Alton raced down the stairs nearly toppling himself to find his daughter lifeless.  That seriously sucked.  He firstly broke down and wept for several minutes.  Then he realized how much trouble he was going to be in.  The investigators were so far not so much in believing Carrie—but with the newest incident involving another family member?  hmmm
	Turns out, though, Wendy was not quite lifeless.  She moaned, fluttered her eyes, moaned, and in desperate need of medical attention.  Hello?  Daddy was a doctor?
	Daddy Alton, US Army Major, was a bonefide/certified doctor-doctor.
	Broken ribs.  Broken wrist.  Broken leg, fractured leg, fractured ankle.
	Contusion.
	Neck injuries resulting in the need of a neck brace and careful movement to a backboard and then to emergency services.
	Daddy Major Alton Reame rolled his broken daughter’s body over; she screamed sputtered with bulging eyes suggesting extreme pain and/or discomfort.  Alton squeezed hard his daughter’s breasts, then ripped her blouse open followed by expertly removing her bra.  Wendy lay in ever increasing pain and much discomfort with a now added “are you out of your mind!?” conveyance.

	Alton didn’t stop at mawing his daughter’s breasts but worked on getting her pants and panties off.  Wendy freaked on and on but was too broken to make much of a fuss.  Alton forced her legs open and “went down” on her, biting her pussy lips, and being much-much less a father than he should have been.
	After much cunt munching—he mounted.  His throbbing hard cock went sliding nicely into her fuckable fucking cunt.  Pent up pissed offedness put Alton into seriously driving his cock into his daughter’s cunt with great disdain.  The fuck was so hard and incredible that the act put scorch marks on the woman’s shoulder blades.
	After cumming off—
	“He cleaned her out.”
	“Whattya mean, “cleaned her out.”?”
	Bob sighed, “Well, he used some chemicals, products under the counter, sink counter, bathroom.”
	“Why?”
	“To wash away evidence.”
	“Oh.”
	But wait!  There’s more!
	Still faced with the frown of the investigators, Alton had to think fast.  During which time, Lt. Toby Nope arrived to the home.  Alton hid just behind the great grandfather clock and when the good lieutenant came into the foyer and saw his naked wife laying dead on the floor—he was whole heartedly stunned.
	So stunned he never saw the kitchen mallet smash into his head.  
 	Repeatedly.
	When the man’s head had been bashed in sufficiently, Alton took the mallet handle and placed it FIRMLY into his daughter’s hand and made a couple of more smacks while the hubby lay on her.  The “time of death” would coincide with the man’s leaving the hospital and arriving home.
	There still was a little more to do.
	Bob paused in the telling of the sordid tale to his bemused daughter.
	“What did he do, Dad?” Helga asked.
	“Well, to make it look like kinky sex gone wrong,” Alton undressed the lieutenant and then—
	“Then?”
	“Then sucked him.”
	“Holy shit!  Why?”
	“To get him hard.”
	“Why?”
	“To get him to fuck his wife—”
	“So HE would have evidence of fucking his wife!” she got it!
	Lt. Nope was “not quite dead” but he was close.  The man languished between realities, slobbered on his wife and enjoyed a bit of a final blowjob—not aware that it was from his father in-law.  Thereafter, said sucked hard-on was shoved into Wendy and with Alton helping hands on Toby’s hips—the fucking commenced.
	It took several long enduring minutes and Alton wanted to be “someplace” else—like the hospital where he would be “seen” during the unfortunate accident.  Toby managed to squirt a little love cream before “expiring.”  Alton wasn’t thru; he dragged the man UP the stairs, then sent him down them with a not-so-gently shove.  Then placed the body back on Wendy before scurrying out of the house hopefully unseen.
	Two hours later while in his office doing backed up paperwork doctors hate to do—military police arrived to give him the bad—very bad, news.  Alton had made rounds, it wasn’t his shift but he was a head member of the hospital staff; he came and went as he pleased along with his regular shift time.  He joshed with the security guards, the janitor, nursing staff, and made sure he was seen with patients.
	Investigators believed the unfortunate couple had some sort of kinky sex going on that didn’t end well.  Carrie had other ideas and knew without a doubt somehow her daddy was involved.  Her accusations of incest became moot when she came up pregnant—and DNA evidence exonerated Daddy Alton.

Two)  ok, everyone has a minding device!
	Arlene Burntsum thought going to her teacher would help her get back to Country, the States.  Like Carrie Reame, Arlene didn’t like being away from her friends; Germany was alright for a “visit” but the long months the family was to spend there was not in her plans.  So, like Carrie, she concocted a “plan” to get the family back to the US.
	And like Carrie, she conscripted a horny boy (all boys are horny) to help.
	So, Arlene came to her American teacher after school one day and embarrassingly made claims (sexual) against her military daddy.
	Ms. Angie Lungefilly leaned back in her chair, smiled, and said,
	“Prove it.”
	“What?”
	“Take your clothes off.” Ms. Lungefilly said sternly catching Arlene off guard.  The girl stood blinking her eyes, staring at her teacher whom she liked, mouth open, stunned.
	Ms. Lungefilly smiled—but not a friendly smile then leaned forward reiterating:  “take off you clothes!”

	Arlene gulped, sweated, exhibited signs of mass confusion; then,
	In slow motion action, Arlene’s fingers nimbly unfastened her school uniform skirt zipper then pushed it down.  Ms. Lungefilly smiled—still not the friendly smile expected; then,
	“Continue.”
	Arlene flared her nostrils, continued to be confused, but slid her lavender panties down; then, with further prompts from her favorite teacher, stepped out of her clothes also removing her white blouse, bra,  and school blazer.
	Once naked, the girl was maneuvered to sit on the great wooden oak desk.
	Ms. Lungefilly stared longingly-lustfully at the fully nude pre-teen; then stood up opening the girl’s legs.  Did she tremble?  Shudder?  The spying onlooker thought so.  Arlene said nothing and made no adverse reaction.  Ms. Lungefilly ran her hands up and down Arlene’s bare naked legs, parted them a little more and seemingly ogled the student’s pussy.
	Then she began rubbing her own.
	The spying spy nearly gave himself away—but mostly couldn’t breathe.  Only a few times did he catch the news newsing that a “woman” had been arrested or was being investigated for child molestation.  A couple of three times or so was there something newsy about a teenage babysitter caught doing those she was in charge of sitting for.  But it wasn’t a commonality and blew totally blew Sgt. Bob Heely away.  Like totally!
	Then—THEN, Ms. Lungefilly sat back in her old fashioned teacher’s chair, scooted forward, then proceeded to lick out on Arlene’s cunt!  She did!  She engulfed the whole poon and seemed to really-really enjoy it, too!  So much so that it was observed she was fondling herself—breasts first, then a little lower.
	It was incredible!
	After much tongue and engulfing of Arlene’s poon, Ms. Lungefilly brought out from deep inside a desk drawer a dildo!  It was a cock—a life-like cock!  The phallic was slowly inserted into Arlene’s pussy and Bob Heely thought he was going to explode.  There was resistance—and then a little blood.
	Arlene Burntsum was a virgin!  Daddy wasn’t poking her after all!
	Ms. Lungefilly loved all over the naked girl; turned her over and spanked her, shoved the life-like phallic into her asshole, spanked her, then shucked her own panties, skirt, and everything else.  Bob was out of his mind by this time.  Going into orbit was the next step for the spying sergeant—especially when Ms. Lungefilly began rubbing her pussy to Arlene’s pussy!
	That was then that Bob saw the minding gadget on the desk!
	‘Sonofabitch!’

	It was incomprehensible; inconceivable; unfuckingbelievable!  When Angie Lungefilly squatted onto Arlene’s face—enough was enough.  Bob watched as the woman frigged herself, spanked herself, and squashed her hairless cunt onto the hapless unawares girl’s face, pull out some vaginal beads, and hump-hump-hump until such a time as he made good with his own mind altering device.
	Getting into the classroom was the next trick.
	Outside the classroom, Bob Heely hid nicely in the thick foliage along the classroom.  A small grassy space there was between all the classrooms of the private school for American children not attending German regular schools.  Luckily, being in the military, Sgt. Heely was trim enough to slid thru one of the windows—and crashed noisily onto a pile of books and a desk.
	The two on the desk, however, noticed nothing and were lifelessly still.
	With a hurt shoulder, banged knee, Bob scrambled to the door—which was closed but checked its security anyways.  Then, he scampered almost giddingly to the teacher’s desk.
	“Sonofabitch!” it was a dream cum true!
	Ms. Lungefilly wasn’t a bad dish; nice hair, breasts, ass, and she was all kinds of kinky and very naughty—fine qualities that Bob Heely liked.  With Ms. L still poised with her cunt on Arlene’s face, Bob shoved his fuck stick into the woman’s cunt and had himself a thrill.
	The “thrill” was extended to Arlene, too; no penetration—just humping against the girl’s pussy, riding her chest, and face fucking.  More would have been done but the sound of a janitor’s cart outside told him class was over.  Dressing himself was priority; then he dressed the student and teacher and fled out the window he had come in thru.

Three)
	On the prairie; there’s a little house 
	Laura, sister Mary, brother Albert, stood under the shade of a great elm in the near boiling heat of the Summer day in their finest attire.  Horses made noises, some not appropriate for the festive day; a breeze lightly kissed the cheeks of the gathered ones; tinkling glasses here and there; and the “just wed” couple were moments from leaving Peppercorn Springs.
	Laura Tutewes’ nemesis was married and leaving town.  For years, Laura and Nellie Noselow were not overly fond of one another—Laura and her family had moved to the farmland outside of Peppercorn Springs when Laura was just turning eleven.  For the next few years thereafter, Laura and Nellie were not “friends.”  Nellie did whatever she could to outshine Laura and her older sister, Mary.  Often times, though, it was Nellie who got into trouble for his shenanigans of trying to foil the “country girls.”
	Nellie, however, had a good family, a well-do-to type family who owned the only and one grocery/general store—she got away with a lot.  She was a brat, a snob, and a bitch—mostly the latter.  Anyways,
	As newly wed non-Baptist Percival Kleinstein mingled with Nellie’s parents and ansy to get out of the country and back to the city, Nellie stole some time to be with Laura.  Time to make up.
	“Oh, Laura,” said Nellie apologetically, “I am soooo sorry for the way I treated you.” She seemed genuinely repentant.  The two held hands; Nellie still in her wedding gown, blond-blond hair all fixed up “just right”; reeking of perfume and roses.  She WAS a pretty girl, a couple inches taller than Laura but otherwise in perfect form.
	“It’s alright, Nellie.” Laura cooed; sure the the bitch Nellie had been a pain; sure she had gotten Laura (and Mary) in trouble with the town, school, and their folks when it had been all along Nellie’s misdoing; but Laura let it go—the bitch would get hers sometime when that “old wheel” turned around.
	The two smiled and then hugged.
	And then it happened.
	What happened?
	It just happened.
	WHAT “just happened?”
	After the genuine hug and the two were drawing back—Nellie kissed Laura.
	She did!
	And at first, Laura was shocked and frightened—then—THEN she accepted the smooch and gave back her own!  She did!  Afterwards, 
	“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Nellie said chortingly.
	“NOW you tell me!” bitched Laura.  The two giggled, held hands, then held one another.  Passion began to rise—
	“We don’t have time.” Laura said being the more serious one.  All her life, though, Laura had been the aloof one; mischievousness had been Nellie’s forte.  Now the rolls were reversed and come to find out—the two could have been seriously interesting together.
	But the two were “seriously interesting” on their own.
	For Laura; there was Pa, Ma, older sister Mary, brother Albert, and little sister, Carrie.  The farmhouse the family had moved into wasn’t accommodating for a large family; Albert got a room to himself as did little Carrie.  Mary and Laura shared a room but it was ok—Mary was a little miffed that she being the oldest got bumped from having her own room.  Oh well.
	Anyways—the girls, too, shared a bed.
	The plot thickens.

	On occasion, in the middle of the night somewhere, the girls got “frisky.”
	In that, they fingered one another.  They lay naked together fingering one another, pounding their young poons together, then sneaking out to the barn where they spanked one another.
	And on the subject of spanking…
	Pa Tutewes.  He was a generally good man; calm, good natured, all that.
	He was also stern and oft times brought a misbehaving child to the barn for “disciplinarian” action.  Depending on the offense, the misbehaving child got a hand to the ass with the ass protected slightly by clothing.  Depending on the offense, the misbehaving child got a hand to the ass NOT protected by clothing.  Another option was a belt to the unprotected ass.
	Depending on the offense, the belt spanking was either light, so-so, and butt blistering.  Seldom did any of the Tutewes require the blistering butt punishment.  For a time, it was Mary and Laura who spanked each other—then brother Albert found them out and joined in.
	Laura was about eleven when she found the pleasures of self-pleasuring.
	Laying nakedly next to her naked sister of fourteen there were more pleasures to be found.  The girls often fingered the other which eluded to other delights; pussy pounding was one, cunt sucking was another.  Getting away with fingering and pussy pounding in their own room was one thing; cunt munching was something else as it led to eruptions alerting their brother and parental units.
	So the girls took their sexual fever to the barn where their antics could go mostly unnoticed.  Mostly.  After so many times of pleasing one another (in the barn) brother Albert, thirteen at the time and OOOOOH so horny, caught them—in the act.
	The girls were very aware of their teen brother jacking off; behind the barn, IN the barn, in the bathroom, on his bed, in the woods—everywhere.  The girls thought it silly—well, Laura did; Mary thought it something else but incest with one’s sister was one thing—incest with one’s brother was something else.
	Of course, on the subject of “incest”—
	A broken window, not home on time, forgotten homework, cussing, a fight with Nellie, a baseball pitched directly to Nellie with intent on brain damage, broken window—all resulted in Laura getting yanked out to the barn for disciplinary action.  Usually Laura was in a country dress, not always; typical farm jeans or colorful pants was her attire, as well.  Didn’t matter—not to Pa Tutewes; up against a bale of baled hay the girl was lain; if in jeans, the jeans (and undies) were lowered and shirt/blouse was hiked up.  If in a dress—the whole garment was pulled off.

	Sometimes, not always, but sometimes—Pa put his cock up Laura’s ass.
	She thought she was about eleven the first time she got buggered.  The first time was scary; the first time and her asshole smoldered and was sore for days thereafter.  It was a full day and then some before Laura told Mary.  It might have been Laura’s “first time” but Mary had been buggered by Pa, too.
	But Mary was the “good” girl; she didn’t break windows, forget her homework, or tell lies.  She did come home late and after the third time of not being on time, coming in at dark, Pa took Mary out to the barn.  She was twelve at the time.  For her first time, it was pants down, panties down, across the bale of hay, and accept fate.
	For her first time—it was a bare hand to a bare ass.
	Same for her second time.
	A week later and it was the belt to her bare ass.  After much sobbing and crying, Mary stood up and noticed something about her Pa—he had a boner!  That was interesting.  Her tenderized ass stayed too tender to tempt fate again—at least for the rest of the month.  Then,
	A tiff with Nellie, an incident at school involving cheating, lying about the tiff and the incident at school, and late coming home—all resulted in a visit to the barn.  Pa was pissed.  Mary was in a dress and as soon as she was inside the barn,
	“Get it off!” demanded an irate Pa.
	Mary trembled some, it was in her plan to be taken to the barn but she didn’t want the ire of her Pa or to be seriously beaten.  She got both—and then more!  Once naked, thirteen year old Mary lay out across the scratchy hay bale and spread her legs apart.  Pissed off Pa took a belt immediately to her naked ass cause the girl to instantly cry out in her anguish.  She wriggled and tensed up and the belt lashed her ass, back of legs, and brought her to the brink of extreme duress.
	The beating also got her pussy hot.
	While Pa lashed her—Mary secretly sneaked a hand down under her body to frig her pussy that was literally on fire.  The lashing stopped; the belt dropped—Pa dropped his pants.  To describe it (being buggered) she couldn’t.  “It was like taking a crap—in reverse!” she later told Laura.  The plunging was uncomfortable and made her uneasy—later, though; she was plunging candles, zucchini, the long neck of a beer bottle into her asshole (and sometimes with the kinky help of her sister!)
	Thereafter, Mary began getting herself taken out to the barn on a regular basis; sometimes once a week!  Most always she made sure if it was a trip to the barn it was with a dress on.  The spankings weren’t so hard and seldom was the belt ever used.  It was a bare ass smacking two or three times and then—
	Up the ass with a poppy cock!

	Then, an incident occurred—
	Pa caught Albert and Mary together—naked.  Mary was across a bale of hay and Albert behind her being “Pa.”  The real Pa wasn’t amused (well, he was but wasn’t).  Both Albert and Mary got their asses stricken with hand and then belt.  But, not too hard—enough to turn the ass a bright shade of red but the sting wasn’t all that severe.  Pa Tutewes rammed his manhood into both son and daughter; then, with Albert still sprouting a brotherly lust and serious hard-on got the go ahead from his Pa to “go ahead”.
	Albert shoved himself into his sister’s lovely ass and fucked heartily for several minutes.  Pa watched for a little bit then left.  Albert and Mary began a sexual romp then thereafter—usually anal.  As the two matured, Albert found Mary’s other two holes equally pleasing.
	Pa never caught them doing the “extra”.
	Laura soon got involved and was more into sucking her brother off while Mary smacked her ass.  The three had good times together—and had Laura (and Mary) known that the evil snobby bitch Nellie was also a naughty girl OH! the times they could have had!
	Nellie.
	Nellie-Nellie-Nellie.  It was her MOTHER who owned the town’s one general/grocery store; the Mother was not a disciplinarian and frowned on her husband dolling out any discipline of his own.  Scolding was one thing, spankings were frowned upon.
	But they did happen.
	Nellie had a brother, two years younger, and not at all like her—Willie had raven dark hair and was more easy to get along with, play, and be friends with.  Nellie had incredibly beautiful blond hair.  Neither her Mother or Father had blond hair.
	Anyways,
	In the family basement—a store room from the above general store with above two floors being the family home, Nellie teased her brother—often.  The teasing came in the way that Willie wanted and highly desired to see his sister naked, at leastways partly.  Nellie had caught her young sibling more than once “spanking the monkey” and though she chastised and condemned him for his naughty actions she also saw a way in satiating her sibling status of power over her brother.
	It was nothing for Nellie to command her brother—“take off your clothes.” She would spout.  Once young Willie was nude, she would eye his dangling pud and then conscript him to “play with it” until it got hard.  At the time, Willie was twelve and Nellie was two years older.

	After ogling her naked brother, and watching him jerk her gherkin, Nellie usually gave Willie something to jerk off for!  Most times she pulled her frilly very expensive dress up AND pushed her panties down to let HIM ogle HER!  If frisky and in a good mood, Nellie would let her brother rub his dick against her bare ass.
	On rare occasions, Nellie also stripped off her clothes—she seldom wore pants and seldom less in jeans.  Some teasing came with presenting her ass to her brother on pretext of letting him “get some.”  Bending over, Nellie commanded her brother to “lick me.”  In that, Willie James applied his tongue to her asshole and licked well while Nellie fingered herself.
	Then, for the tease—that was all.  Sometimes—sometimes she let him fuck her asshole.  Most times it was just a rub up against her ass.  Then, on Willie’s 14th birthday, Nellie let him lick out her pussy AND fuck it!  There, after, Willie wanted to fuck Nellie’s pussy all the time!
	Of course, Nellie had the upper hand there.
	And of course—they got caught.
	Although the kids’ Mother was horrified—she also took it as something brothers and sisters did and was not into admonishing her children inasmuch as their Father was.  Daddy Noselow was not horrified—he was furious.  And naturally, his wife wanted to only scold the misbehaving children (Nellie and Willie had been caught in the store room—naked, with Nellie ON TOP!)
	After jerking the two to a standing positions and yelling at them, Nells Noselow yanked his naked teenage daughter to his knee and swatted her standing up.  It wasn’t to say that Nellie DIDN’T get a swat but it was only “now and then” and usually with clothes on.
	When Harriet tried to intervene—she got a stern finger warning and a hard face look of dare from her pissed off irate husband.  Harriet wisely stood back and watched as her precious Nellie was swatted.
	After the swatting, Nellie went (nakedly) to her distraught but obedient Mother and the two scurried up stairs to their living quarters.  Willie was in fear for his life and stood blinking his eyes excessively.  He later explained to his inquiring sister that like her, he had been pressed against their Father and walloped.
	Nellie, however, always thought there had been something more.

	Some days later and Nellie cornered her elusive brother asking,
	“What happened?”
	Willie, of course, shrugged saying, “I got it same as you.”
	Nellie was buying it.  She knew her brother and knew he was holding back.
	“I’ll let you do me.” Nellie said.
	Willie shook his head and seemed almost petrified.
	“This time,” Nellie said, “we’ll make sure we’re clear.”
	Nellie still had a hard time getting Willie to venture into the basement storeroom AND take his clothes off.  Seeing Nellie naked, though, eased him, got him hard, and melted putty in his sister’s hands.  (and Nellie’s toying with his cock was also a win over to be submissive.)
	Nellie positioned herself on a crate, spread her legs and began diddling herself.  The ever willing Willie approached—but Nellie placed her hand over her quim—“Ut-ut-uh,” she quipped, “not until you tell what happened with Father.”
	Willie sighed, he didn’t want to.  He chewed the inside of his cheek, mulled it over, licked his lips, and,
	“He bent me over.”
	Nellie stared at him.  “And?”
	A sigh, a little less stiff in the dick department, another heavy sigh,
	“He went up my ass.” he said in a low voice.
	Nellie was floored.  “Wow.”   “Really?”
	It was something that couldn’t be believed and Willie didn’t want to explain it.  Nellie let it be and took her brother’s bothered prong and toyed with it until it was strikingly hard—then she eased it into her hot box and let her brother do the rest.
	After the brotherly/sisterly bonding—Nellie sat up, fingered her well fucked cunt, looked over her sheepish dweeb of a brother then asked,
	“Wanna go again?”
	Hot tip:  You never-never-never have to ask a teenage boy if he “wants to fuck again?”
	For the second go around, though, Nellie turned over, spread her legs (and cheeks) and Willie headed for the “backdoor.”  He had been there before; in the beginning—years earlier, the “backdoor” was the only hole Nellie allowed—after, of course, Willie gave the hole a good licking!
	After some intense moments of anal plunging, Willie finally released his brotherly love and melted.  He shuddered all over and virtually collapsed onto his naked heaving sister.  She fingered her cummy hole—it was a little uncomfortable—no, a LOT uncomfortable.
	Willie stood idle behind her, watching her, stroking his love tool.
	Nellie, still laying over the wooden crate, naked, cum oozing out of her asshole, turned her head to look slyly over her shoulder,
	“Wanna spank me?”

 
*
How to keep monsters from being under your bed?  (Cut the legs off the bed)
Finale
	A fellow soldier had been a fellow soldier until he was no longer a fellow soldier.  After only a few years of service, Dmitri Tsugua, eased out of the military and slipped into a new field—teaching.  He taught Music, Music History, English, and American History 1A (from the Colonies to WWI.)  The classroom was a mix of German and American kids; ranging in age from ten to twelve with the average of the 25 students being eleven.
	After a field trip to the museum and park, it was back to the classroom for some settling down before dismissal.  It was also a perfect time for shenanigan business.  Dmitri had an EMAD (everyone does!) and it had enhancements.  For the most part he shied away from those “enhancements” as they were not tested and there was the fear of complete EMAD failure and that would be bad—especially if in the middle of doing something shenanigan-like.
	However, there was some enhancements that were known to work; such as,
	Massive Mind Blasting (or Mind Zapping) to the point of rendering multiple subjects virtually mindless.  He feared that it would be a tax on the nifty minding machine so he held off for as long as possible.  Still a young man in his early twenties—Dmitri he had been involved with EMAD devices for a long time (more on that later.)  
	A few minutes after the class had settled—
	The power indicators on the minding gadget that fit in the palm of his hand, was round, gun metal gray, a little weighty like a small rock should be, and had the damndest abilities revealed that all was well.  The class was mindless—as they usually were.  Good clean American and German kids.  Not an ugly one in the bunch!  Golden hair, brown, dark brown, reddish brown, and raven black.  Some girls had something to ogle and some had barely anything chest wise whatsoever.
	Dmitri sighed, waited a moment but didn’t have a moment to give—at any time a “runner” could come bursting in sent from the Office with a message for him or one of the students.  A fire drill could occur—disrupting the mind lock the Device had on the students.  The Principal or Vice Principal could come waltzing in to check on the class.  Or a maddened ax murderer, a wandering goat, a plague of frogs…
	Arianna Moltdeer, eleven, had caught his eye from day one.  She was way pretty; always wore good clothes that were hip, top of the line, trendy.  There was lip gloss, slight scent of perfume, and amazing smile revealing perfect teeth.  Aug made his way to her, stood her up from her desk, and embraced her.

	The girl was wondrous!  She felt good!  Smelled good!
	Dmitri slowly and carefully eased is hand down to her butt and gave that a squeeze—she didn’t knee him in the balls and no one in the classroom gave a gasp—so he continued.  A snappy-trendy dress that went cockeyed to mid-thigh, bright neon purple socks, an extra wide lavender belt with a long “tongue”, lots of baubles, beads, and so on made the girl’s attire.
	Soft designer panties he found and eased them down escorting the girl to the back of the class to the width wise counter.  It was just at the right height to position the girl on—and afterward eased her panties down and gawked at her lovely-lovely-simply fucking lovely pussy.
	There wasn’t time to do much—there never is; after getting the panties off and ogling the bare naked barely pubed pussy, Dmitri lifted the girl’s legs placing her feet on his shoulders.  Then, with his cock out, he rubbed it furiously against Arianna’s sex.  Rub-rub-rub!  
	Gouging his cock against her cunt was one thing—
	But there was no time to shove himself into her and then soothe her after.
	Humping (rub-rub-rubbing!) would have to suffice.
	Dmitri’s hands went all over the girl’s body, under her clothing especially.
	Tick-tick-tick—time was not his friend.  After jerking off onto the girl’s pussy—and leaving the mess there, Dmitri pulled Arianna’s panties back up, kissed her passionately, spanked her ass—finding that in doing so there was no reaction whatsoever.  Greatly did he want to fuck the girl—hard.  But there was no time—no time!
	Zena Darktoe was next on his list—she wore fairly tight jeans, a shirt that was open a bit more than it probably should have.  She was nearly twelve years young and had pleasing boobage.  Dmitri pulled her up and whisked her to the back of the room whereupon he couldn’t help but strip her down to her skin.  At the time—he didn’t care of the Principal, janitor, runner, or ax murderer came charging in.  The girl was wondrous—wondrous! to behold (and Dmitri held her!)  Up against him, fondling her ass and then her breasts before fingering her fuckable fucked cunt.  On close inspection—Dmitri did determine that the girl’s poon had previously been fucked.
	One of the nifty enhancements of the EMAD he had in his possession was Q&A.  An old favorite!  Dmitri didn’t ask her too many questions—only,
	“Who’s been in your pussy?”
	Zena blinked her eyes, seemingly strained her thoughts, then answered,
	Zephry.

	Dmitri smiled, Zephry was her older brother—there, too, were two younger brothers and yea—she was having sex with them, too!  Dmitri loved on her young breasts, sucked and sucked on each small apple before diverting his attention to her young cunny whereupon he got one hell of a boner.
	Tick-tick-tick—the close of school business was encroaching and Dmitri Tsugua finally got his nuts off.  But of course, he wanted more—he wanted the moment to linger (he wanted to fuck the girl up the ass and then spank her!)  He had to settle, though, for fucking her cunt to some satisfaction and a brief spanking before dressing her and returning her to her seat.
	No time for anything else.

*

I’m the little voice in your head—No, I am!  No, it’s me, I’m the little voice in your head.  No, I’M the little voice—no, no, I’m the little voice…
	Dmitri Tsugua had done all things to ensure his deviant nature to go unnoticed—and he would have gotten away with if it hadn’t been for that meddling Bob Heely!  One evening, on the brink of a showering downpour just outside a German city where during WWII ball bearings were the target of Allied bombings, Dmitri stole away into the darkness accompanied by a young girl.
	Suddenly, though, from the car lot where a carnival was going in regardless of the impending inclement weather, alarms went off—not car alarms but people and then a loud siren.  Then flashing lights of polizei erupted into the night and Dmitri experienced panic.
	Panic has a way of gripping a person’s mind and fouling it up.  Such as was the case with Dmitri who ran nearly back out into observation.
	Enter Bob Heely who gave a loud whistle, stepped out into immediate view and waved, “This way!”
	Panic also had a way of placing faith in strangers.
	Dmitri, clutching the young girl, followed the stranger into inky darkness and into the woods; then to a large culvert that ran under a road and out the other end to a foot trail that ran along a farmer’s field to some woods.  By the time they got to those woods—the girl in their company was “coming around.”
	“She’s wired!” Bob said breathlessly.
	Dmitri gave him a confused stare.
	Bob removed the girl’s watch, bracelet, necklace, cell phone.
	Lights flashed in the distance prompting the two miscreants to flee—taking Gretchen Windowine with them of course.  Of course!