August Moone
Book 8
Chapter Six
Dom’s Way Home
(detours along the way)

Just remember -- if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off. 
	and speaking of sucking…
	Kari Nory did a lot of it.  The two scumsucking dirt bags interrupting her life demanded it.  There WAS an EMAD in use but it seemed to be malfunctioning (GOOD!) but the two scumsucking dirt bags interrupting her life used other methods to “get their way.”  Threats, spankings, and other various forms of torture prompted Kari to follow thru and bide her time.
	Bide her time.  Somewhere, sometime, somehow, the two Scumsucking dirt bags who had interrupted her life would fuck up; they would slip up somewhere somehow and Kari would be there to watch them—and maybe with luck help them along with their fall.
	There, too, though, was the pesky business of ‘it wasn’t all that bad.’
	The hang-up, of course, was the younger ones.  But then again there, too, it wasn’t all that bad.  Kari had issues, with herself.  She emphatically refused to submit to herself that she endorsed the extreme perversions the two Scumsuckers interrupting her life were about.  
	But—getting hammered (and even spanked) by twelve year old Grant and fourteen year old Kyle excited her.  She denied it—tried to deny it; but the two boys who were directed by the two Scumsuckers interrupting her life excited her.  Excited her.  Thrilled her.  Came on her.  There was no denying no matter how hard she did try—she liked it.
	Kyle and Grant were pretty enthused about the ordeal, too.
	Gretchen and the other girls—not so much.
	Gretchen was the object of attention for Scumsucker “Mike.”
	Kim, Sarah, and Jill held Scumsucker “Gary’s” attention.
	Kyle’s sister, Krista, was equally shared by Gary and Mike; Grant and Kyle, too.  Kari received the most attention; double and triple penetrations with golden showers and pearl necklaces.  She sucked and sucked and sucked, one cock after another—fondling testicles, caressing bare asses, and leaving on the desert-mountain road her morals.

	After successfully breaking thirty year old television personality Kari Nory, Gary settled to those that held his attention; Sarah, Kim, and Jill.  Mike made merry with Gretchen and Krista.  Kyle and Grant were exhausted and lay nakedly sweating and dripping other fluids with the naked exhausted Kari.  They watched as—
	Inside the van behind the petition (partition—not PETITION as mentioned in previous chapter) Gary lay nakedly with Sarah Harny.  She was ten.  She was naked.  She was cute.  She was naked.  Gary’s fingers traveled all over her nakedness, ‘specially her vagina.  Little Sarah had little nipples; Gary was attentive to those, too.  He smiled as he lusted over her; the child lay out still—a little mindless.  The girl’s strawberry blond hair was a little matted with sweat, twigs, leaves, dirt, and cum.  She had a uniqueness to her sweet face—a face of curiosity and inquisitiveness; fantastic blue eyes and a general all around sweetness.  She would be fantastic at thirteen.  Gary couldn’t wait that long and began earnestly fingering her pussy.

	With Krista on her hands and knees on the piled clothing on the desert-mountain road, Scumsucker Mike “put it to” the girl while Gretchen was underneath sucking on Krista’s cunt and Mike’s balls.  Gary watched them from inside the van as he prepped little Sarah’s cunt; the look in his friend’s eyes told him—though he was deeply putting it to Krista he was “putting it to” his bio daughter, Trisha.
	Gary put it to Sarah.  His fingering of the girl’s pussy went for a couple of minutes; Grant’s twelve year old cock and Kyle’s fourteen year old cock had nicely “broken-in” the young girl—now it was Scumsucker Gary’s turn.
	Mike held tightly to Krista—continuing to pump slowly but with determination.  He watched as in the van his best friend positioned himself on top of the little girl he seemed most enamored with.  His manly manhood significantly more meaty than the likes Grant and Kyle rode up and down the girl’s recently deflowered cunt.  Strongly did Gary grind his cock, forcing Sarah’s legs open then rising himself up just a little and guiding into her sex his cock.
	A powerful jut of cum spewed with a vengeance from Scumsucker Mike’s cock.  Pounding hard with force he slammed Krista’s tortured bum, gripping her hips—running his hands up her sides to fondle her dangling breasts, he pumped his all watching as friend Gary invaded Sarah.

	Sitting back on his haunches he watched as rivers of his cum oozed and squirted out of the hole he had just fucked.  As trickles of his love juice dripped down her crack he told the horrified Gretchen underneath, “lick it up.”
	Inside the van, Gary soothed little Sarah; his hand lovingly caressing her face.  His vile deed done there was the afterward; the soothing, cooing, calming.  Sarah’s pussy was sore as was the whole of her body.  She lay trembling some and very well fucked.
	Gary looked up and met the cold eyes of the oldest member of the group, Kari.  There was deep disdain in the woman’s eyes—Gary smiled to her and was mindful of her, too.
	Mike required rest; Gary went on to the black girl, Kim Arnab.  She was eleven, had some titty meat to fondle and suckle, and despite Grant and Kyle tag teaming her earlier was a tight fit.  Gary’s bone ached him greatly and sorely needed some rest—but the lust level in the Scumsucker overrode the rest request and after placing Sarah in the rear of van he laid Kim out—on her stomach.  As many as several minutes before any “action” came about; most of the time Gary spent caressing the girl’s ass, spanking it, squeezing the flesh, and “exploring” her cave.
	Kim was notably uneasy with the level of attention she received but endured it all just the same.  An “unknown” force forced her into compliance.  She gripped the crappy grungy carpet and soon felt the intrusion to her body beginning.

	After locking eyes with Scumsucker Mike, Kyle eased out of the van and made way to his sister.  Krista lay on the ground, legs open, mind gone.  The boy looked her fine teen body over—they had been fooling around (on their own) for some time and not even the very first time when he got to see her totally naked and willing did she seem so incredible as she did on the desert canyon road.  He admired her and lusted.  
	Mike directed the boy to “fuck her.”
	In the van, Gary was in Kim’s backdoor pumping steadily but his cock was reaching the limit of how much longer it could go.  Mike watched him with torrid thoughts racing thru his mind.  Kyle “fucked” his sister, sliding his own aching bone into her dick trench.  Locking his arms he locked his body having only his hips doing any movement.  Krista entwined her young teen body about; this after distorting her body oddly in a manner of defiance for the forced act but then submitting after all.

	Kim’s head pounded against the interior wall of the van as she was seriously fucked in the ass.  There was significant hurtie-owie to her poop chute; her asshole finally managed to “give” a little and let up the discomfort—but still…
	Every stinking inch of his scummy scumsucking cock was in the eleven year old’s asshole.  It was quite a feat and took four minutes to cum.  It was the longest four minutes of both Kim and Scumsucker’s life.  Even after pulling out—the discomfort level was still high and remained so for some time.  Kim’s asshole eventually slammed shut but there was a great deal of uncomfortableness.  Scumsucker Gary had to endure a longer time of uncomfortableness—his cock hurt!

	“Soooo, we stayin’ or walkin’?”
	Valid question, the days of desert dwelling were hot; the days of nighttime desert dwelling were cold.  There was no in between.  The plan had been to go to the remote hunter and miner’s cabin set far back in the rolling rustic hills.  The washout of the only bridge along the way put a damper on that deal.
	Furthermore, the bridge was (had been) nestled at the bottom of two steep hills.  Gary’s work van was angled downward some feet from the bridge where there was no room to turn around; a small ditch was on one side and a bevy of huge rocks and boulders on the other.  Some trees lined the side where the rocks were, a unfriendly hillside on the ditch side.  A five hundred foot drop off was there on the tree and boulder side.
	Getting out was going to be a neat trick.
	It was the weekend and neither of them had to be at work in the morning—but the following day they had to be.  Scumsucker Mike regretted not bringing his wife along.  Gary regretted it, too.  but her disability of being unable to fully walk would have made it whereas the two men would have had to watch and tend after her rather than the cargo they had.
	Gary was a queer bird (ok, let’s not go there) and opted for pulling out—er, out of the spot they were in.  After an hour’s rest the two pond scumsuckers actually put on their clothes and pulled their “cargo” out of the van taking them down to the washed out bridge.  “Don’t move.” Gary told them.  “Don’t even think about it!” Mike added.  The “cargo” nodded and the two scumsuckers returned to the van.
	Behind the van was a great boulder with a huge gnarled pine tree growing up from within the wall of the canyon hillside.  The tree had once actually been on top but weather had washed it down to settle about the boulder.  Its roots were sturdy and exposed growing about the rock, too.

	Gary opened the back of the van removing from a toolbox some chain and a come-along.  Mike swung out the hoist and the operation of backing the van out began.
	Kari looked the surroundings over—the dray wash was questionable, chocked and choked with desert debris and at anytime could be choked and chocked with more from a sudden rage of water without notice.  What was up the other side of the washout she didn’t know—she didn’t know where she was or how far away was town, road, civilization.  Although she wasn’t tied up or even watched, making an escape here was not a good idea.  She sort of thought that it was probably over—she had overheard the two scumsuckers discussing backing out and heading home.
	So what did that mean for the cargo?
	Despite how horrendous the Scumsuckers were in their illicit business of kidnapping for sexual purposes; no regard for ages or relationships, in possession of an illegal to possess electronic mind altering device, Kari didn’t believe the two men to be heinous enough to kill them.
	She could be wrong of course…

	With one tire of work van on the verge of being bald, the van’s ability to back up successfully on the slanted road was difficult to say the least.  In fact, traction was lost and the van went hurtling to the hillside and ditch.  The collision jarred the driver; he shook it off but was clearly dazed.
	Scumsucker Mike came quickly to his aid—but slipped on the slippery downgrade and collided with the van itself nearly knocking him out.  He lay out on the ground with his crotch up against the rear tire—which was also not good and laid there very still in extreme pain and discomfort.
	Scumsucker Gary finally managed to gather himself and crawl out the open door of the van’s cargo area.  He wasn’t well, his head had been injured with the hillside collision and he was greatly dazed.  
	“Mike?” he called out, “You alright?”
	“No.” squeaked Mike rolling to his side and nearly vomiting.  If he had of vomited then that would be serious.  His stomach was very muchly upset as was then the rest of his body.
	“Sweet sorry son-of-a-bitch,” Mike blurted, “let’s not do that again.”
	Gary was all for that.  
	Mike finally managed to pull himself out from the position he was in and check his wavels.  
	“They alright?” Gary asked trying not to be gay about it.
	“Still there.” Mike replied.  He breathed hard and wasn’t well, no, not well at all.  He sat on the step of the van not intending to move for awhile.

	Gary made his way to the group—stumbling a little and nearly falling.  He did manage to collide with a tree furthering his hurtie-owie.  No one of the cargo group rushed to help him, though.  
	After regaining himself, shaking off the hurt and the ow he reassessed the washed out bridge.  
	“Whattya thinkin’?” Mike asked stumbling up behind him.
	“It’s not much further up the road (from the other side).”
	“And?”
	“And we could probably walk it.”
	Mike nodded, this wasn’t turning out quite so well after all.  The beginning was a little crazy acquiring the cargo, the middle was good enjoying the cargo, but the ending was beginning to suck.
	“Do you have any chicken wire?” Kari Nory asked.
	“Chicken wire?”
	Miners, prospectors, desert travelers often used chicken wire to aid in their ability to get out deep sand the tire of their car had sunk into.  And as a matter of fact—after pulling every last piece of tools out of the tool box, there was some chicken wire.
	As evening began to come upon them, Gary tempted fate once more and with scumbuddy Mike operating the hoist/wench from the back of the van to pull it (what else what a hoist wench do?) and the chicken wire under the rear tires—the van moved.
	Not as precariously as it had the first time, a lot less slipping.  
	The next trick was going to be even trickier, though; turning.
	The road came down steeply from the hill and made a turn where the great boulder and pine tree were.  It was just as steep as the section leading to where the bridge used to be.  And making a so-so U-turn on such a precarious road wasn’t easy, either.
	After a few tense minutes, though, the van was pointed up the right direction.  The “cargo” was fetched and everything went back into place.  Making the grade back up the hill to where it was more level and less perilous was the next trick.  It took a little more time and all done in silence.
	Finally, they reached the top where it leveled off and made a slow trek back down to the desert floor and all points beyond.  At the crest and just rounding a great boulder something was happening out on the desert floor.  
	“What the hell is that?” Gary asked to no one in particular.
	It was dark on the desert floor but something for certain was going on.
	“Looks like a dust storm.”
	“That aint good.”
	“We need another option.”

*

Light travels faster than sound.  That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
	“Banging the sheep”
	“Banging the sheep?”
	“Makes a nice title, huh?”
	It did.
	Jessie and Joey had plenty of film for their friend in town who would pay them handsomely for the 2hrs of explicit naughty business featuring a lackluster cast of fuckables.  The Actors and Actresses were great, but it was time for a new batch.  Well, it was time but the Director and Producer would require a bit of personal time before engaging in the next segment of their outrageous filmmaking venture.
	But with night coming on traveling the desert back to civilization wasn’t a good idea.  It wasn’t that good during the day!  The actors and actresses remained in their dressing room after dinner while the director and producer took refuge in the outer room—discussing sound effects for the film, what actor/actress should win the award for most cum swallowed in a single gulp…
	The two slipped off to sleep but were awakened shortly after by some unknown noise.  Neither knew what the noise was and stepped outside.  The air was tingling with a strangeness Jessie nor Joey had ever felt before.  It was indescribable save for the “tingling” sensation on their skin.  It was similar to an electrical storm of some sort.  Of some sort.
	They waited a while but when the sudden wind storm came up bringing stinging sand they returned to the miner’s shack to let the storm pass.  The men were exhausted—and how!  The storm kept them tense for over an hour then they settled to sleep the rest of the night.
	Come morning, the storm was gone and so were Nina and Grace.

	It was a given, of course, for prisoners to make escape.  Btu be that as it may, it didn’t make it any better—for them or their captors.  The remaining prisoners were looked over and then tied up and tied up tightly.  An investigation of the rear room of the shack found a corrugated tin panel was loose and loose enough to allow someone to make their way out.  There was a lot of blood from the use of cutting materials to free the former actresses’ bindings.

	Of course, asking the others “When did they leave?” was replied with various answers.  It was sure to be that from 9:30—the time of the electrified sand storm and 6AM.
	That was a big headstart.
	Outside at the truck the two men scanned the area.  
	They could have gone any direction—at any time.
	“I think we should--”
 	“Go look for them.” 
	It wasn’t Jessie’s thought.  To FLEE was Jessie’s thought.  There were complications mounting and mounting—if the two bitches found help the area would be beset by all kinds of law enforcers.  A flea wouldn’t be able to move without being noted.  And there, too, was the remaining actors and actresses.  What to do with them?
	But Joey suggested “go look for them.”
	“I wouldn’t waste too much time doing that,” Jessie said, “we probably should pack up and get the hell out of here.” ‘and move to Tahiti.’
	Joey agreed, not too much time.  Just along the ridge, Joey going one way and Jessie the other.  Scan the area as intently as possible and then call it a day and disappear.
	Jessie agreed, but was more for making haste and getting away before the helicopters came.  He settled himself and tried to think—‘If I were a teenage girl…’ and the mitigating circumstances surrounding her—where would she go.  Desperation and other factors created quite a quandary, though; desperation caused a person to act differently than they would under conditions that were calmer.
	The heat of the morning was already beginning to get uncomfortable; Jessie picked his way along a trail the miner and/or prospector had used years ago.  There was no gold in the area, if it were—there would be more tin shacks.  The area was barren, desolate, and hot.  Not fit for man or beast.
	It was fit, though, for tarantulas—Desert Scourge type tarantulas.

	Far below the rocky ridge was a small gathering of Tarantulas.  There seemed to be an encampment there, some old army trucks, tents, water tanks—it looked something like out of a movie picture about life after a nuclear devastation on planet Earth.
	It was best to stay clear of them and Jessie was about to make his move back to the shack, get Joey and make haste as they should going around the ridge to the back road into town.
	He was about to but then he saw something familiar.
	Nina and Grace!

Life isn't like a box of chocolates.  It's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your ass tomorrow

	The more she fussed the more hoots and hollers from those around her cackled.  It seemed like almost a “good idea”.  Nina Munchez floundered, flailed, and flopped about the hot desert sand as a score of disgusting foul Tarantulas descended upon her.  Suddenly one of the Tarantulas managed to get a good hold on her, grabbing her hair and yanking her into a very uncomfortable position.  She was on her knees, body arched, head back dangerously with an equally dangerous knife at her throat ready to slice.
	“Now, missy britches,” seethed a horribly stanky Tarantula, “you bes’ mind yerself lessen I make you bleed!”  Nina couldn’t even gulp for air as the blade would surely slice her and “make her bleed.”
	Just across from her was her friend, Grace.  The two girls had stole away in the night, naked.  Their feet and hands, knees, shins and everywhere else were cut up by the rocks as they made their trek down the ridge.  They slipped away from one horror and into another.  Nina sorely regretted escaping—had she known of the new horror to befall her she would have stayed and endured the next act…
	Grace was in peril, worse than what the Director and Producer bastards had done—rough sex—by three Tarantulas.  All three of the Scourge members were naked; one was tall and skinny, the other two a little portly with one being more than the other.  All three had incredible body odor and looked a sight with the hair all frizzed out like they had been electrocuted or something.  They were cut up and probably could use some medical attention.
	One of the Tarantualas, Cosgrow, had a limp and slurred his speech; he favored his right hand and it looked a little distorted, too.  He was first to take up position on Grace while his buddies, Runt and Junkyard, held the screaming teenager still.
	As Cosgrow got behind the girl and entered her, another Tarantula came into the scene announcing the arrival of some guy named “Fagen.”  Nina fussed still, ‘how many more of these fucking bastards are there!?’ she wondered.
	Quite a few actually.
	After Cosgrow got his hump off, he stumbled back and was giddy as a school girl, cum dripping from his nasty cock.  One of the other Tarantulas took his place while the biker Cosgrow made his way to Nina. 
	The more Nina tried to thrash the tighter the grip from the burly biker holding her.

	“Hold ‘er tight, Dawg!” chortled Cos.  The naked biker came flopping his foul cock and Nina knew what was expected.  
 	The sun beat down onto the area she and Grace thought was safe, it resembled an army post, an outpost of some sort.  But it wasn’t.  Had they seen the biker bikes they would have known otherwise.  But too late, the bikers saw them and got them.
	Cosgrow came and with “Dawg” jerking Nina’s head back pulling her hair near out the horrid man with the hellish disgusting cock jammed himself into her mouth.  “Suck it, bitch!” barked the biker.
	Nina grumbled a “FUCK YOU” as the smeared cock filled her mouth.  The man began to pump, pull out and hump her face then jam himself back in.  Nina felt ill and began to retch.  Behind Cos, another biker was humping Grace.
	Nina’s fear was suddenly overwhelmed by anger and as biker Cosgrow’s cock swelled inside her mouth—she acted in the only manner she could.
	It was instantaneous; sudden deliberate pain that sent Cosgrow tumbling backward holding his cock—the tip of which had been bitten clean off.
	“Fuckin’ whore bit my dick!” screamed Cos.
	To further add to Cos’ pain, Nina swallowed the tip.  It was the last act that Nina would remember, though… 

	Although the sun was not high in the sky it’s COOK the Desert setting was already on High Broil.  To say that she was dazed would be an understatement—she languished in a sea of confusion, sickness, and seriously blurred vision.  It would be sometime before she would “come around.”
	When she did—she was better off confused.  And confusion was the Word of the Day; she was naked, sprawled out on the ground spread eagle-like, her wrists and ankles staked the hard packed but very warm earth.  There were desert camouflaged army trucks, tents, and crates scattered all about.  Nina Munchez had a hard time making sense of her situation—
	Then a horrid piece of walking human trash walked into her vision.
	He was a biker—this by his numerous tattoos of biker bikes, skulls, and naked bitches.  He had long stringy hair, in need of a shave (and a bath) and was naked.  Nina felt horribly ill and then all at once she knew—she knew everything as the man came standing straddling up to her revealing to her his cock—or what remained of it.

	She had bit off the tip of the man’s cock—and swallowed it.  She remembered.  She remembered being kidnapped in broad daylight in town; she remembered being raped by a pair of sexual deviants; spanked, peed on, and repeatedly fucked—but they were gentle in comparison to the biker gang.
	Had she’d known of the bikers in the area she would have stayed in the shack with Grace and the others.
	Grace!
	Where was Grace?
	Nina twisted her head that was free trying to see the state of her friend.  She was no where to be seen—what was seen, though, was dirt bag bikers everywhere.  They were filthy, cackling, and encircling the distressed Nina.
	One horridly grungy half naked biker stepped up with a glazed look in his eyes, pushing the dickhead-less one aside.  Cosgrow took offense and shoved the other biker saying “Fuckin’ whore is mine!”
	“She’s alla ours, C-man, and I’ma gettin’ me some of ‘er!”
	“We’re waitin’ for Fagen.” said one of the other bikers.
	“FUCK faggy Fagen!” shouted out belligerently the biker known as Eagon.  
	“Fuck you and anybody who looks like you!” stated a new voice coming in breaking up the encircling biker group.  The Tarantulas went deadly silent as their leader, Fagen, made his presence known.
	“You have a problem with me?” Fagen asked as he came in lightly dusting himself off from the desert.
	Eagon said nothing in response but held his ground.
	“Gettin’ a little uppity in your old age.” stated the leader.
	Eagon rolled his eyes in thought—then realized, ‘shit, it’s my birthday.’ only the Pack leader would know it.
	“You been gettin’ a little mouthy, too,” continued Fagen, “and takin’ off doin’ your own thing,” then he paused, “and where’s my soldier boy?”
	“Uh, about that soldier, Boss,” piped in one of the Tarantulas, a dirt bag named Junkyard, “we had him but--”
	“But what?”
	“We lost him.”
	Fagen blinked his eyes slowly in thought, cocked his head, and stared at Junkyard.  “You what?”
	“It wasn’t our fault,” chimed in Ozy, “he went up into some rocks--”
	“Some rocks?”

	“Yeah, over by the trailer park--”
	“Was this where the WIND wrecked your bikes?”
	There was silence among the Scourge.
	“Yeah, Boss, same area.” said Ozy.
	“Strange thangs been happenin’ out ch’ere in this fookin’ desert, Boss.” said Runt.
	“So I hear.”
	“We think it’s time to move on, elsewhere.” ‘safer’
	Fagen turned his attention to Eagon.
	“Do you now?” almost sneered the biker leader.  “You speakin’ for ALL or just your worm?” 
	“We all kinda feel that way, Boss.” Ozy supplied.
	Fagen narrowed his eyes, “I feel a mutiny among me ranks.”
	“It aint that, Boss,” complained Junkyard, “things just hasn’t been right among us--”
	“They have or were for awhile,” added Ozy, “but strange shits been happen’ and--”
	“And what?”
	“We aint seen much loot come our way.” said Eagon flatly with balls.
	The Tarantula Scourge leader turned his attention back to his lackey.
	“Loot, huh?”
	“Yeah, loot—we need new bikes, better digs--”
	“We aint scored a decent thing since comin’ to this fookin’ place!” Runt angrily coughed up.
	The surrounding bikers all nodded their heads in support of Runt’s statement.
	“I know, lads, things haven’t been exactly as planned,” Fagen paused looking each member of his gang in the eyes, “it takes time to set things up.”
	“How much longer, then?” asked Eagon asked sarcastically.
	“Let me worry about that.” Fagen returned impatiently.
	“We’re tired of waiting, Boss!” Eagon exclaimed, “we missed that payroll shipment from the army, soldier boy is gone, and YOU’ve got the best bike of all!”  Eagon’s balls were swelling…
	Fagen, cocking his head smiled and locked eyes with us gangly upstart.  “You sound disgruntled, me lad, I’ve told you, all good things will come to us—it just takes time.  My time, not yours.”
	“You’ve been stringing us along, Fagen,” Eagon continued swelling his chest.  A nasty hush fell among the gang.  Eagon had not only crossed the line but jumped.

	The tension among the Scourge was tight; Eagon though swelling with proud balls was leery of his leader.  Slowly, and wisely, he began to back up from where the naked teenage girl lay staked out on the ground.  Fagen made his semi circle around the girl—never leaving his eyes from his lackey.
	“Maybe you’d like to join up with Bull’s gang,” said Fagen as Eagon backed up out of the shade of the open tent canopy, “I hear he’s always lookin’ for more members.”
	Of course, to quit one gang to join another meant “ahlassdee”; Indian word for fight.  As seen in many Cowboy/Indian movies the two opponents have a bandana wrapped about their wrists with a knife in the other and “fight to the death.”  The Winner gets to leave (and live).
	Eagon’s swelling began to decrease a bit; he stumbled over some encampment stuff nearly crashing into the line of bikes parked nearby like horses at a picket fence.
	Fagen and the rest of the Tarantulas followed making another circle about their leader and Eagon.
	Eagon stood up looking at Fagen’s motorcycle.  It wasn’t new but it was newer than the rest.
	“Lookee here,” he said almost in desperation, “he’s got the best bike of all of us, any loot we get he gets it all—for himself!”
	“Well, now,” chided Fagen, “if it’s loot you be lookin’ for, why dinna jus’ says so!” he smiled and casually lifted an army canvass revealing an army crate underneath.  It was heavily damaged, but the contents were still intact.  The crate was wooden with steel riveted reinforcements and bracing.  Fagen lifted the top of the crate pulling out an army helmet—new design that covered the ears and was lightweight.  He tossed it to Eagon chiding,
	“Here you go, bucko.” Fagen said cheerfully.
	Eagon caught the helmet; looked it over with not much appreciation and tossed it back.
	“This aint gonna fill my belly or wallet!” almost shouted Eagon.
	Fagen narrowed his eyes and tossed the helmet to Runt who took the offering and immediately put it on.  “Thanks, Boss!” exclaimed the Tarantula.
	Eagon glared at the lackey for his sucking up.
	The pack drew like a drawstring, tightening up their ranks as the two Tarantulas squared off for a finale.  Fagen made the inner circle, never leaving his eyes from his uppity ballsy lackey.  Eagon slowly turned following his leader’s movement; his nervous good hand resting on the hilt of his knife in it’s holster behind his back.

	Not even ten o’clock in the morning and already the encampment of the Scourge was a hundred degrees.  Sweat rolled into Eagon’s eyes, his body drew tense as slowly all around the tight group he followed faggy Fagen.
	With the next circle, Fagen stepped in closer.  Eagon remained as he was turning only when he had to.  Fagen’s hands were out in front of him; he wore his open leather vest with not-so-clean army brown undershirt.  The man’s eyes were icy black and boring straight into his underling.
	When Fagen made the next full circle and stepped in closer, and the Tarantulas stepped in closer to draw tighter the circle, Eagon lunged screaming “Aaaiiieee!”
	His lunge attempt was good, Fagen stepped out of the way (narrowly) and brought his elbow sharply down onto Eagon’s shoulder sending the man sprawling to the hot sand.  Eagon was quick to react, though, and scrambled up taking a handful of hot sand and flinging it to his leader.
	It was a weak throw and not much of a handful of sand, either.  Fagen wasn’t bothered, not even pissed.  His blade shined in the bright sunlight and turning it just so blinded Eagon.  The man shielded his eyes and stumbled a bit—it was a prime opportunity but Fagen didn’t take it.  He smiled, chuckled, and continued manipulating his blade so as the bright light pierced Eagon’s eyes.
	Holding his hand over his eyes Eagon lunged blindedly at his opponent.  Fagen stepped out of the way, twirling like a ballerina and sending a hearty boot kick into Eagon’s side.  The whoops and hollers from the encircled Scourge began.
	Eagon flew up in a rage and charged his leader; Fagen met the lunge, angling his body just so to receive the impact.  Eagon hit Fagen and was rebuffed sending him hurtling backwards.
	“Take him,” chortled one of the Tarantulas, “we need new blood!”
	Fagen gave his friend a small cold stare.  He smiled at Runt and the man sly moved out of the circle.  Eagon tossed more sand but in his attempt to follow thru with his newest lunge—he tripped over his own feet and stumbled to his leader’s boots.
	“Go ahead, E-man,” yowled Panhead, “kiss ‘is boots!” the uproar from the encircled Tarantulas was as loud as their bikes.  Eagon flew himself up barking “I aint kissin’ NO ONE’S boots!” and he made a daring slash at Fagen.
	Amazingly, he slashed Fagen’s blocking left arm—but took a slice himself.  Fagen had on his leathers, full dress (full sleeve) jacket w/matching vest.  Eagon had on only his vest.

	The slice to Fagen slashed open the leather arm of the sleeve, and brought blood to the skin of the leathery arm of the pack leader; Eagon’s slash was to the bone.
	The slash to Eagon, though, didn’t deter him but only enraged him.  It was desperation and he charged recklessly into Fagen.  The two men grabbled a moment but Fagen brought his elbow into the middle space between Eagon’s shoulders and down the man went.
	The Tarantulas whooped it up all the more nearly falling all over themselves.  Fagen gave his lackey time to gather himself; and just as he was on is hands and knees “gathering himself” the Scourge leader gave a hard swift boot kick to the man’s stomach nearly launching him into space.
	Eagon coughed, sputtered, and retched as he rolled onto his back trying to catch his kicked out breath.  Fagen loomed above him, placing his blunt end boot to the man’s crotch.  Eagon continued to grasp for breath, his vision clouded, blood spurting from his nose and mouth.
	Then, the Tarantula Desert Scourge leader reached out a hand.
	Eagon’s breath returned and he took the leader’s offering and was pulled up.  “Nothing like a little mutiny to brighten your day!” smiled Fagen, then he gave a shove to the would be mutineer saying “and I hates mutiny!”
	Eagon thrashed his knife in defense as he was backed up into the shade of one of the canopy tents.  Standing just off to one side of a pile of concealed army crates some of which had camouflaged netting over them or army blankets.
	Runt stood at one of the smaller crates and when locking eyes with his leader, he gave a subtle nod.  Fagen once more narrowed his eyes and as Eagon lunged in for a strike he took it bringing the lackey into him whispering into his ear,
	“It’s been a worthy effort, I’ve enjoyed our time together—but now it’s time to go!” and he shoved with a mighty shove sending Eagon backwards to the largest covered crate.
	Eagon struck the non-moving crate and went instantly still.  His eyes blinked excessively and he seemed frozen.  Fagen stood his ground not showing pain inflicted to him by his former Tarantula lackey’s blade.  He pulled said blade from his side clenching up and snorting some as the pain was a bit much after all.  But he didn’t show it.  He stumbled but caught himself, riveting his feet to the hard parched ground beneath his boots.
	“Well,” Fagen said with great effort, “I’ve enjoyed your company,” snorting more and showing signs of struggling to maintain himself, “I enjoyed fucking your sister, brother, and Mother,” he stepped closer dropping his own blade but keeping holt of Eagon’s,
	“and now,” he said blowing out his breath, “I’m gonna fuck you!” 
	Runt and Dawg grabbed Eagon, pulling him from the crate where a long hunting knife was wedged in between the slates of a crate.  While Dawg held Eagon, Runt tore the man’s pants down.  Fagen held himself together undoing his pants.  Staring straight ahead he stumbled forth somewhat colliding with the dazed sputtering Eagon.  
	The Tarantulas began a chorus of calls as their leader shoved his fuck stick into mutineer Eagon’s asshole.  Gripping the man’s hips he gave a mighty thrust and began reaming the man with a serious vengeance.  
 	The humping punishment went on and on and on; there was no “reach around”, spanking, or pulling out to hump elsewhere and then plunge back in to fuck—it was all in all the way to the end.
	The “end” took five minutes or so; afterwards, Fagen, leader of the Desert Scourge Tarantulas, stumbled back but could not rest or show any sign of weakness.  He was very vulnerable at that point, even more so as his sexual doing had just zapped away even more of his energy.
	“Take him,” he breathed exasperatedly, “to the Rock.”  
	Several of the Tarantulas scooped up the dazed Eagon and carted him off to that place deep in the desert where a cop and others lay out as so much bird fodder.  Fagen wandered into the sanctity of one of the tents.

	Junkyard fetched a beer from the ice cooler; when downing the brew he noticed something amiss.  He stared at the ground just inside the shade of the canopy.  Where was that teen girl?
	“HEY!” he yelled to the remaining members of the Scourge.  “She’s gone!”
	Nina Munchez was no longer spread eagled on the ground where she had been.
	Fagen came out with a new shirt and a bloody bandage over his wound.  “Find her, go find her!” he barked reeling a little from the loss of some blood.
	Ozy, Panhead, and Junkyard went scouring the area for the missing teen.  Fagen didn’t have much energy and remained in the shade of the canopy.  Suddenly there was an explosion startling the man, then another.  Rock debris went sailing into the air and then raining down onto the camouflaged encampment.
	The concussion of the explosion deafened Fagen; he tried shaking it off but another explosion came and then something fell just inches from his face as he lay stunned on the ground.
	It was a stick of dynamite!

*

	“We need a plan.”
	“A good plan.”
	It was agreed—they needed a plan—a good plan.  Rushing into a group of bikers was not only foolhardy and stupid it was dangerous with deadly consequences and both Director (Joey) and Producer (Jessie) wanted to do as little dying as possible in their young lives.  But a rescue of Nina and Grace pressed them to act.
	Carefully they picked their way back to the miner/prospector’s shack for a good private think.  Those they had left there were still there.  Joey and Jessie powwowed in the front room, sweating and worried about what they had seen and if they could successfully get away unscathed and unknown.
	Joey stepped out of the sweltering tin shack to take a piss.  Jessie rechecked the status of the “others” handing out sodas and cold rags from the ice chests.  Joey came quickly back in, “Hey,” he said eagerly, “I think I found something.” 
	Joey had.  It was an old wooden box somewhat concealed under various cast off equipment.  The wording was just barely readable DA GE  HI H  EXPL SI  DYN MI E
	Danger  High Explosive(s)
	Inside the box wrapped in wax paper were over a dozen sticks of dynamite.  The Director and Producer thought up a new plan.

	It wasn’t a particularly great plan—but it was a plan.  A distraction was needed and it was a plan made up on the move.  Joey was strong but not too good in the “running” department.  Jessie was tall, lanky, and could not only run well enough but “duck and hide”, too.  So, while Joey hurled lit sticks of KA-BOOM, Jessie would make the dash to free his star actress.

	He had been caught once sleeping with a best friend’s girlfriend; he had been caught at high school with marijuana; he had made love to a kinky girl on top of a moving passenger train; and for a brief time he had been a race car driver.
	But nothing compared to sneaking into the din of “tarantulas.”  They were all heavily gathered in a circle having some sort of standoff amongst themselves.  It was the distraction Jessie needed.  If while in the process of freeing Nina he was seen doing so—then he was to expect a flurry of loud KA-BOOMS.  Joey up in the rocks above the encampment had a good arm and hopefully a better aim.

	Jessie worked the ropes the bikers had used securing Nina, she was highly agitated but that was to go without saying.  Just as Jessie got to undoing the rope at Nina’s ankles the biker gang began shouting and carrying on loudly.  Jessie didn’t know what was going on—and didn’t care.  Getting the girl free was priority.
	Sneaking around the area full of Tarantulas alone was one thing, doing so with the carrying of a naked teenage girl was going to be some feat.  Luckily, though, the bikers were heavily involved in whatever ritual they were involved in and Jessie made good freeing Nina—with the help of Joey tossing the KA-BOOM sticks.
	It was a good cover and Jessie made good his escape unnoticed.
	Depositing Nina where Joey was,
	“Where’s the other one?”  Grace.
	Jessie looked back into the encampment, “I don’t know,” he said, “I didn’t see her.”
	It was getting hot—hotter; Joey saved a few sticks for that “just in case” and the two men made good with their escape.

*

A little more than ABCs…
	She knew something was up, but wasn’t sure.  Something was going on that was out of the norm—but she wasn’t sure.  Despite her young age she was pretty smart, street smart, and wise enough to hold her tongue and wait until more information fulfilled her.
	Ruthie Damden sat still in Mr. Ted Hammond’s class.  She had picked up on the fact that suddenly her classmates had been chatting, scribbling on their papers, farting, and then the next thing she knew—silence.  Then, Stephanie Cymbalst got up from her desk and went to Mr. Hammond’s desk.  She went AROUND the desk which was first off unusual to begin with—that was only done when discussing grades at the end of the quarter or whatever to see for the student’s self their grade in his gradebook.
	Then, Stephanie Cymbalst “disappeared.”
	Ruthie remained absolutely still, watching and waiting.  She saw Mr. Hammond doing something but she didn’t know what.  No one of the 4rth grade class moved—Ruthie watched her teacher (whom she liked) and the clock on the wall center of the class.  She waited.
	And at length Stephanie C reappeared—standing up.  She stood up straight with Mr. Hammond looking over the class he smoothed his hand over her chest!  Oh!

	After Stephanie walked back to her desk there was still the dead silence for almost a minute then the scriblings, chattings, and farting resumed.  Ruthie joined in but was wary and watched her favorite teacher—wondering.
	The following day it was Geri Hass and Beth Kollman.
	The next day it was Vicki Hesterson, Lauren Twees, and Karen Blackman.  By then, Ruthie had taken note that her favorite teacher was using an electronic device of some kind (of some kind.)  Paying attention and being wily; piecing together news information, school information in regards about EMADs, detectors, preventors, and the various possible variations of Electronic Mind Altering Device Ruthie Damden deduced that Mr. Hammond was using an EMAD.
	So, one day after school, Ruthie came up to him as the class emptied and Mr. H put together his stuff readying to go home.
	“Something I can do for you, Ruthie?”
	Ruthie smiled; she had a round face, kinky hair of brown curls, blue eyes that dazzled and was full of mischief, and a sweet smile.  She had a pretty decent body for a nine year old, too.  
	“Why haven’t you done me?” she asked catching Mr. H off guard.
	“Excuse me?” 
	“I know about the MAD thing.”
	The color in Mr. Hammond’s face went away leaving behind an ashen look segueing not to shock but horror.  ‘holy fucking ape shit!’  He blinked and found it difficult to breathe.  Then, what was that she said—at the beginning “why haven’t you done me?”  What?
	Ruthie stood, smiling, shifting her weight from side to side.  She had Mr. H totally off his guard.  Ruthie shrugged, “It’s ok,” she said, “I don’t mind.”
	“You don’t mind!?” Mr. Hammond was near hysterical.
	Ruthie hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her pants and continued to look adorable.  “Are you going to do all the girls of the class?” she asked.
	Mr. Hammond could only stare, gulp for air, and be confounded.
	“Are you going to do any of the boys?”
	What was she saying!?
	“What do you do when they come up here?”
	The question was a little alarming on several fronts—was she setting him up?  Was she wired?  Working for the principal or some law enforcing agency?  Or just curious?  
	“Well, uh, uhm, well—uhm, well what do you think goes on?”

	Ruthie cocked her head, continued smiling, then shrugged.
	“Take their pants down?”
	It was a question that still could be loaded, tainted, fixed.
	Then,
	“I can do that—on my own.”
	Mr. Hammond had no choice but to blink his eyes excessively.  What was this child saying!?
	Then,
	“I know what that is.”
	Once more the nine year old had caught Mr. Hammond off guard.  Then he looked to where the bright little girl’s eyes were locked on; his crotch and specifically his boner.  He hadn’t been aware that he had a boner growing nor that it was prominent enough to be noticed.
	Mr. H was in a fix.
	“Y-you know ‘what that is’?”
	“Yep,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’ve got three brothers.”
	Mr. Hammond nodded.  “And you see them all the time, their uhm—their--” 
	“Boners.”
	Mr. Hammond nearly lost it right then and there.  She had said it.  Boner.  She implied that she had seen her brothers’ with boners, erections, hard-ons.  It caused Mr. H to blink his eyes again excessively.
	“A-an-and you don’t mind?” he asked curiously.
	Ruthie smiled shaking her head, “No.”
	Whether on his own or subconscious act or other, Mr. Hammond placed his hand to his boner—not to conceal it but to gouge the heel of his hand to it in hopes of settling it some.  Of course, it only was made worse.
	Of course, it was only made worse when Ruthie posed—
	“So do you want to do me?”
	Mr. Hammond stared at her, “D-do you?”
	“Uh-huh, whatever you do to the others who come up here.”
	Mr. Hammond began to sweat—but his cock pulsed.
	Then,
	Ruthie undone her pants and pushed them done.
	She did!

	Mr. Hammond stared—there was nothing else he could do.  He blinked his eyes and struggled to breath.  The struggle to comprehend what was happening was long gone.  Ruthie wasn’t the cutest girl in the class, but she was cute—‘specially clad in her lavender panties…

	Ruthie took a turn at being embarrassed, blushing a little she chewed on her lower lip becoming acutely bashful.  Ted Hammond relaxed himself a bit and put his hand to Ruthie’s shoulder—then let it slid down her backside coming to rest on her butt.  His cock surged and began to pulse.  A little moan escaped followed by a deep seeded yearning…
	Ruthie pushed her panties down.
	Ted had no choice, he began smoothing his hand over the girl’s bared ass; fingers sneaking into the crack.  Ruthie giggled and blushed, her nipples perked up and she felt compelled to “lay down” across the man’s lap.  When she did she “disappeared” from classroom view.  She knew then what had happened to the others.  
	Mr. Hammond rubbed his hands all over Ruthie’s bare ass, a light smack, a squeeze, and then a peek at her goodie box and he was well on his way to committing sinful deeds and illicit acts.  His cock throbbed demanding attention.  Ruthie wriggled, rubbed her own ass and pried her cheeks open—on her own!
	Who WAS this girl!?
	“Can I see it?” she asked rolling up a bit with her shoulders/back against the rim of the great oak desk.
	Hammond couldn’t figure the girl—it was beyond a “set-up” now, surely no law enforcing agency would allow the girl-spy to go as far as she had.  He had never heard of any girl being so willing.  And to think of the money he had spent on the EMAD!
	With trembling fingers he worked the zipper on his brown slacks; Ruthie helped.  And it was Ruthie who went fishing for his prong, pulling it out from his underwear—and marveling at the worm she pulled out.
	“Whoa baby!” she exclaimed.
	Ruthie’s fingers gripped the “worm” tightly—“it’s way bigger than my brothers.” she announced.  That was nice t know—really nice to know.
	“D-do you play with them—theirs?”
	Ruthie blushed; her dazzling eyes twinkled and she nodded Yes.   She then began to “play” with his; squeezing the tube steak she worked it up and down seemingly inordinately fascinated with his man stick.  Hammond watched her face, her expressions of awe were incredible; her handiwork on his stick were double incredible.  And she was doing it on her own!
	Then he stole a moment to check out her goodie box; it looked a little swollen and not quite virginal as it should be.  This only caused the man to squirt a little love juice.  Ruthie giggled and leaned in—lapping up the pre-cum soiling the piss slit.
	Mr. Hammond would never be the same…

	To say the least, he just wouldn’t be the same—after the blowjob from nine year old Ruthie Damden he just wouldn’t be the same.  The most he could get the other girls to do was to come up to his desk, undo their pants and push their clothing down, then lay across his lap.  It was the limit of their abilities to cope with as he feared tempting fate having them “perform” more.
	But Ruthie was willing.  WILLING!  It was phenomenal and extraordinary!  And well received after the initial shock wore off.  The girl knew what to do, too; gripping his stick and slobbering all over—going down with the rolling of her tongue all about the fluted end; diddling the piss slit, and not even minding sucking on the hairy nut sac!
	Afterwards she stepped out of her clothes and sat on his lap.  Ted was in heaven—holding the near nude girl, squeezing her bare ass, his cum shooting cock up against her body—it was heaven!
	“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked.
	Does a bear shit on the rooster’s roof when he lays an egg in the woods?  Is the Pope probably Catholic?  Does a hobby horse have a wooden dick?  Well, does it?  Go look, I’ll wait…

	It was joy unspeakable as Ted Hammond’s manly manhood eased up into Ruthie Damden’s cunt.  He shivered—all over as jillions of sexual nerve endings were suddenly ignited into an eruptuous fire unkindled.  Holding the girl tightly to himself he moved her up and down his adequate shaft, his hands clamped tightly to her young delicate ass.
	It was a dream cum true.  Literally.
	Mere moments after Ruthie slid her sex down onto his staff and he was cumming.  He felt squirts of his love juice shooting with greatness into the young girl’s poon.  There was a shudder all over, his toes curled inside his $80 shoes; his balls cinched up and with his grip on the young student’s ass he power fucked the remaining umph.
	There was the necessary rest period afterwards.  Ruthie lay against him, her young cunny clenching some and he felt the stickiness of his illicit unionship with Ruthie soiling his balls and pooling ‘neath his ass.  He didn’t care—he had just had sex with a nine year old!
	Geri Hass was a pretty girl with long straight blond hair; her Daddy owned one of the finest furniture stores in town; Beth Kollman’s Daddy owned a car lot;  Vicki Hesterson had a Mexican Mom; Lauren Twees was a gossip spreader—along with a fair amount of bullshit spreader, too;  Karen Blackman was very pretty and Ruthie deduced she didn’t have a good homelife atmosphere.  Stephanie Cymbalst was the cutest girl in the class.

	Geri Hass was in a dress; a short yellow thing with proper underclothes.  Teacher Hammond had merely lain her (and the other girls) across his lap and explored their young arses—panties down of course.  There were ten girls in the class, eight boys.  Once more he got Geri’s panties down; standing her up at her desk with Ruthie holding the girl’s dress up he lowered the girl’s undies himself.  His mind was still wrecked with emotions as he tried to grasp what was happening to him.
	He couldn’t grasp and time was getting away—on his knees he gave Geri’s hairless cunny a nice long look.  The desire to fuck her brains out somewhat like he had done to Ruthie was great with him and increasing.  All over the girl’s ass he rubbed his hands; squeezing her flesh and lusting heavily.
	Lauren Twees got her turn nextly; she wore pants and had on orange panties.  She also had a little peach fuzz on her pussy—it was a nice pussy and not all that virginal.  There was no time to fully finger it out, though—the End of Class Bell was about to ring out.
	“We’ll have to do this again.” Ruthie told him.
	That was a safe bet.

*
in the beginning
	In the beginning there was Sally Jane McGregor.  Lorieanne Movan,  Tammy Hewly, Stephanie Vartmon, too.  All four girls were special, not one of them stood out above the other—they were equal.  Sally Jane was the youngest at fifteen, a freshman at Longview High.  Lorieanne and Stephanie were sixteen; Tammy was another at fifteen (but almost sixteen.)
	Rain Frisco was sixteen—and had a car.
	Having a car was everything—mobility, prestige (if you had the right car) and some popularity (for those who didn’t have a car).  One day he saw Sally Jane standing out in front of the school.  The last school bus and last car had rolled away leaving only a few stragglers.  The day was warm as it was nearing the end of school and the beginning of Summer vacation.
	Rain hung back waiting, biding his time.  He was nervous and had a right to be.  He waited just inside the school foyer, eyes locked onto the freshman girl’s ass.  She was a short gal, super kinky reddish brown hair, incredible sea green eyes, and damn fine breasts.  Damn fine.
	She was “cheery”, friendly, and in one of his classes, an English class called Forensic Speaking, Public Speaking, Dramatic and Humorous Readings.  Rain only chose the class for the points.

	When it was ten minutes to the hour of four—
	“Hi!” then, “Need a ride?”
	Normally, girls didn’t take rides from anyone but family members.  But surely a school friend was ok?  Surely.  Sally was gleeful about the ride offer, it seemed that someone who was supposed to come for her was late or had simply forgotten.  She didn’t live far from the school but it was a good walk and Sally didn’t like to walk.
	Rain’s car was a late model Chevy model, red with black stripes and lots of chrome.  It was, however, a car in the making.  It needed “parts”, wheels, seat belts.  Rain had no idea where Sally lived.  She gave him directions and knew where she lived and chose his own route to get there.  There was a park along the way, Rain took the side route and along the way…

flashback
	“What is it?”
	“Not sure what to call it, but they’re talking about them on the news and so I decided to make one.”
	Kim Po had an electronical mind—not literally.  He excelled in Math, Science, and anything regarding Electronics.  And he was only fourteen.  He was in high school at the 10th grade level.  He sucked at History and English and was not too keen on sports.  Electronics was his game.
	Rain Frisco and Kim Po were friends, though; Rain liked electronics, too, but sometimes it foiled him and he didn’t get it.  Luckily, Kim was there to help out and friendship bloomed.
	Over the course of the next few months Kim poured himself into his personal project—the creation of an EMAD.  At the time, it was just the beginning of the EMAD invasion.  In the years to come the EMAD influx would be regarded as an untamed disease, a plague on Biblical proportions.
	Two EMAD devices were created.  The first was a prototype and it was given to Rain.  The second Kim kept himself.  Shortly there after, Kim “disappeared.”  Rain had no idea and never heard from him again.
	For over a month thereafter Rain did nothing with the prototype—mainly ‘cause he didn’t know what to do with it.  There was a basic understanding of its use and potentiality but not much else.  It would take the Summer and most of the Fall before Rain got that understanding.
	Kathy DeWhitell was his first Target of Opportunity.  In the school library the shy unpopular girl roamed the book aisles alone.  Rain knew her, she was in his graduating class; she wasn’t bad in the “looks” department; nice pleasing titties, nice ass, sweet smile.

	For all intensive purposes—it was a test.  Simply a test ‘cause Rain hadn’t used the mind altering device and wasn’t sure of what it would do although he was relatively sure for some certainty of what it COULD do.  It was also the time before EMAD detectors/preventors had come to light so taking the likes of sixteen year old Katey off-guard was easy.
	Katey DeWhitell was generally known as to be shy, an introvert, and kept to herself.  So it was a little difficult to know if the girl was under the power of the EMAD or just being herself.  After some determination—waving his hand in front of her face; getting up close to her invading her space; brushing his body against her, finally convinced him she was not herself.
	So what to do?
	It took a little thinking—his first deed was to simply grope her breasts.  Then, pressing his body up to her from behind her—he slipped his hand down inside her turquoise pants and got busy with the fingering.  Katey did nothing in reaction.  
	His fingers got a good workout on the girl’s poon but what he wanted to do was kinda risky in an open public place like the school library—but there wasn’t anyone IN the library or in the area where it was dark and gloomy.
	So down came her pants.
	Down came her panties.
	Rain Frisco sat on his knees staring at Katey’s butt.  He moaned, groaned, and was nearly creaming his jeans.  Somehow he managed to hold off soiling his underwear.  His mind went into overload as he took in Katey’s ass.  Bare naked flesh—it was right there in front of him.  Not in a health book, not on some dopey classroom projector, not on tv or some glossy soon-to-be-cum stained skin magazine.
	Slowly he repositioned himself so as to get a gawk at her pussy.
	It was furry, dark hair, and right there in front of him.
	Then, just as he was about to do something—voices.
	Panic and fear overwhelmed him and he quickly pulled up the girl’s clothes then fled.  At the end of the book aisle he “released” and never bothered her again.
	Then there was Tillie Masterosi, Megan Fillton, Bonnie Bunn, and Kimberly Brommond.  Each girl he managed to grope her titties, free said titties for more personal groping; get their pants and panties down, and finger fuck their teenage twats.  There was some power kissing, ass fondling, but always—always there was an interruption.  
	There, too, was fluctuations in the EMAD and fluctuations in the girls’ eyes indicating their awareness level was soon to be.  And that wouldn’t be good.  All his actions had taken place on school ground, behind some building.  He needed privacy or something similar.
	Mind control.  What a concept!  Some possessors of EMADs were using them for other purposes—like infiltrating a bank vault, making away with scads of money from casinos, and having their way in life as they saw fit.  A new day was emerging with the EMADs becoming a bane to society and a scourge to the world.
	In the meantime, Rain went on trying to get freaky with some girl or another.  And it took a while to do—like months.  Donna Gilvicko was the girl of whom Rain finally scored.  They were at a basketball game at their school and they were friends—so it was not uncommon to speak to one another.  During that speaking, Rain slyly operated his EMAD on her and when she was under the influence of said EMAD he whisked her away into the darkness behind the school’s theatre building.
	There he got freaky.  He undressed Donna completely, loved on her, fondled, groped and finally poked.  She wasn’t a virgin but Rain didn’t care; he didn’t get laid on a regular basis so it was a boon for him.  He didn’t take much time in fooling around pre-fooling with Donna, he was in a hurry and wanted to finally score with some chick who was under his control.
	He took his time with Penny Gomez, though—she was “acquired” the following day behind the handball courts and an outbuilding.  There in the coverage of huge bushes he “took his time.”  It was Saturday, there were some sports activities on school grounds bringing students back on a non-school day.  
	Behind the weight room shielded by the huge bushes on three sides, Rain slowly took his time undressing his captive.  Penny was an actress at a local public broadcasting station and had cock pleasing looks.  She was very friendly, good sized titties, and kinda big but not big-big.  Completely naked and she was fantastic.  Everyone had a different body shape and Penny’s shape was ok—‘specially naked.
	She was a virgin.  Was.  Rain finally got to engage in a little cunnilingus, finger exploration, grope her more than adequate breasts for a girl her age, and then love on her.  The girl’s poon was a little musty and slight “wet” from a recent pee.  It turned Rain on.  Holding her legs open wide he delved into the girl’s virgin poon with a reverence.  There was significant moaning and groaning as he noshed at the “Y”; his moanings and groanings.  

	Making love to Penny was utterly fantastic.  He had busted some virgin poons prior and those had been good times, but with Penny it was even better.  And luckily, too, there was only a thin membrane guarding her virginity status, Rain drove passed that little nuisance and got busy with the humping while suckling on her breasts—one at a time.
	Rain’s cock surged as it fully engorged; he slid effortlessly into her gash and began to bash—stepping up his efforts as “good feeling” from his efforts began to escalate.  He had fucked a few girls in his time—but Penny was different.  It was to note that it WOULD be better if she were “aware” of her getting fucked…

	The thing with the prototype was that it didn’t have lasting powers.  Rain’s knowledge on the operation of Kim’s EMAD was a little lacking.  Rain’s electronic prowess was a little dim and lacked sufficient energy to grasp hold.  When the EMAD began to get to the point where it would not function as desired—it would get warm and begin to hum.  Minutes later and the light indicators on the face of the minding device would begin to flicker—minutes later and those lights would go out and the EMAD was “off-line.”
	Other than having a pick or two (or three) with school mates, Rain Frisco also annoyed his neighbors—specifically the young neighbors.  One incident was while at a neighbor’s backyard barbeque, Rain took note of Amy Tarunda.  She was cute, obnoxious sometimes, sneaky, uppity, and eight years old.
	Rain’s family was at the barbeque as were several other families.  Lots of children were about—Rain noted each one but as most of the children were boys he wasn’t interested.  Sighting on Amy he followed her antics; she was one who needed a spanking—she was a little spoiled and a lot rude.  She interrupted everyone and ran amok being a general pest.
	Since no one was stopping here, including her parents who thought she was cute and could do no wrong, Rain decided to take matters into his own hands.  And he did.  It wasn’t known if the mind altering device would work on a young person—that part hadn’t been addressed yet.  How young, how old?  What were the limits or exceptions of Kim’s device?  
	Little Amy was nailed—er, acquired electronically.  Now, where to take her?  Rain guided the little pest to the side of the house.  There they were out of sight due to the shape of the house and the many bushes and a gate.  It took time to navigate the girl—programming her to “walk, turn right, go straight,” and so on.  Pre-programmed words and statements in the Device.

	Once Amy was there, Rain simply went around the house and came to the girl from the front.  On his knees he patted the girl’s butt and realized the potentiality—he could out and out kidnap her, take her off somewhere and seriously have his way with her.  It was a beginning.
	He didn’t “take her off” and have his way with her; he pulled her yellow knit pants down and matching yellow panties.  Then it was all about fingering her out, squeezing her flesh and lusting to the extreme with her.  Pushing her to her knees he “whipped it out” and jerked off onto her sweet face.  His cock meat went all over her face then and the desire to fuck the ever livin’ lovin’ shit out of her raged high.
	But he didn’t.
	After squirting his love juices all over her face and into her mouth; Amy was laid out on the ground and her pants taken down.  Rain laid beside her and began an earnest bout of fingering her very virgin pussy.  His lust raged and swelled higher and higher prompting him to take her pants and panties off, open her legs and position himself between her legs laying his tool against her sex.
	He humped.  There beside his neighbor’s house hidden from view he very nearly made vaginal penetration.  His cock stiffened more and more with juts of cream spewing out squirting up the little girl’s body.  Rain was close—very close to making entry.
	When the minding device began to flicker its lights it was time to nip his shenanigans and return the misbehaving child to the fold.  He still, though, wanted to do her—and do her hard!
	That would have to wait, though—months, in fact.  The EMAD in his possession just wouldn’t work right and Rain had to disassemble the unit to see if there was something he could do.  He wound up taking a course in electronics and pouring himself into what he could learn from the street, library, and news regarding electronic mind altering devices.
	At length Kim’s EMAD was functioning.  Time to put it back to work.  Amy Tarunda wasn’t first to try out the new and improved minding device, nor was any of the bitches from his school.  It was the super fine cheerleader bitch Jayleen Cartwright.  She was from another high school and worked part time at a bookstore Rain frequented.  He had longed to sink his bone into her.

Rory Mulligan’s Books at 8th & Gimway Way
	Doralee Standish was there at the counter, so was Heather Brighton and Vicki Bonelad.  The three girls were clad in their Westdale High School cheerleader outfits—red and white pleated skirts—very trim bodies, blonde, brunette, red head, and strawberry blond.  Jayleen Cartwright had lovely brown hair with an exceptional trim body.  Jayleen was behind the green waist high counter running the cash register and being bored.  (she’d rather be somewhere else instead of stuck in the store until 9PM—closing time.
	It was already dark out, slightly warm, and activities all over the lame town was going on and she was missing it.  She was damn cute and Rain definitely figured she was getting screwed on a regular basis.  That went for her friends, too.  
	Rain perused the fantasy section of books, then casually made way to the information books slowly inching himself out of direct line o’ sight from Jayleen and her friends as well as the security mirrors and camera.  Four girls.  Could the “new” and “improved” EMAD do the job?  Could all four bitches soon be laying out naked on the floor getting hammered?
	Rain kinda doubted it—but still it was worth a try.
	Heather Brighton was the only freshman girl, Vicki Bonner the junior.  Doralee and Jayleen were the sophomore girls and every one of them were HOT!  They smelled good, too.
	Rain made his way around the magazines and then the table of kid’s book making way to the side of the store where he had direct line of contact to the bevy of bitches at the front.  It was 8:20 in the evening type time and not likely would there be anyone traipsing in—the town was lame with only a few outlets for its residents—book reading wasn’t one of them.
	There was a little nervousness on Rain’s part—four bitches to overwhelm was a big thing—normally he was successful with one but he hadn’t tested the EMAD for more than that.  Doralee stood with her back to him; Heather and Vicki were at the racks of mini books and other counter crap aimed at compulsive customers.
	Rain held his Device and waited.  At 8:27 he activated the unit and sent aloft his hopes to satiate his desires.  The girls had been doing their favorite activity—yapping.  Then suddenly they weren’t.  Rain waited.
	There was no movement and much more—no yapping.  He moved up to mid way along the book aisle.  He saw four girls completely still—and quiet.  For sure, something had happened to them.  For sure.

	Knowing that an interruption was just around the corner, Rain quickified his doings.  Jayleen was the primary target but Doralee was closet.  Once determining once and for all that the girls were non-functioning, Rain pulled Doralee down the aisle that had a huge book bin to conceal his misbehavior.
	Lifting the pleated skirt got him the fullness of the girl’s underclothing; cheerleader panties.  Sure he got to see them when the girls flipped their legs and tumbled during games; but this was Up Close and Personal!  He liked—a lot!
	Red panties.  Full brief, soft, with an accompanying camel toe.  Nice—real nice.  Rain was drooling—and near cumming.  Down came the skirt and then down came the panties.  He lusted as he lingered a long mind filling look at the girl’s pussy.  He wasn’t an expert at determining the status of a girl’s pussy.  He took time to gently lay her down on the carpeted floor, pulled her panties off, worked up her shirt and bra then positioned himself on her.
	It was fantastic—fucking fantastic.  With his pants pushed down hurriedly he got with the business that was sex.  The head of his cock was already glistening with pre-cum paving the way for it to make it easier to make entry.  Too late did he realize that he hadn’t take time out to munch on the girl’s cunt; he had just admired it and lusted.  Then the next thing he knew he was fucking it.

	As good as Doralee was, Heather was better.  Heather had on her OWN panties.  They were red, cotton, and non-cheerleading type.  Rain’s cock barely had had time off from blasting off in Doralee, with the discovery of Heather’s regular panties—Rain was ready again.
	After getting her completely naked he took a moment to lust over her fine—very dine nude body.  She was fifteen and had a damn fine body.  There was a lot to look at and file away to memory, her teenage breasts were pretty intoxicating—as was her sweet super fine pussy.  Rain diddled the pussy with his fingers, massaging the mound before inserting his throbbing cock.	 It was a quarter to the hour of nine and surely he was home free.
	Only after he had emptied his nuts for the second time did he realize that, ‘Shit!  Forgot to eat her out!’
	He made up for it with Vicki Bonner—his cock was shagged out and he needed the time off.  Munching seventeen year old cunt was bombastically wow.  It was musty and that only intoxicated him more.

	Happily (very) was Rain munching twat when he heard a door slam, a car door—close by.  Like out at the curb.
	‘Shit-double shit, shit fucking shit!’ Rain darted up to where he could see and to his horror there was a tall woman with a fur wrap coming up the steps to the store’s door—in company with two wee children.  Rain’s heart raced—he hadn’t a back-up plan which is necessary in all case resembling this situation.  
 	He had no idea where the backdoor was; he was naked, three teenage girls were naked, and cum was dripping from his naughty-oh so naughty cock.  The socialite woman and the two wee ones came into the store; the bell above the door signaled their presence.  The woman nodded to the still unmoving zombiefied Jayleen, the two wee ones zoomed to the children’s books section.  Somehow, Rain pushed Doralee, Heather, and Vicki into the science fiction/fantasy aisle where he was relatively sure for some certainty that the socialite woman wouldn’t venture.  Then he carefully slipped on his pants and shirt.
	Just in time, too, as the wee boy suddenly raced around the end aisle carrying a book.  He was well dressed with slacks, dress shoes, dress shirt, and vest.  His hair was combed perfectly and he was all of about six years young.
	His sister came up plowing into him causing the boy to lurch suddenly forward—luckily, Rain was there to catch him.  He locked eyes with the little girl and his cock that was previously shagged out suddenly sparked back to life.  What ho!
	The Socialite made her appearance—she was a little frightening and chastised the children.  It was the last thing she would remember (for that moment in time).  Rain knew he was pressing his luck—four cheerleaders, the Social bitch and her two children.  
	For almost a minute he remained sitting on his knees contemplating his next move.  The Socialite woman wasn’t too bad looking and was the mother of Alex and Amber—the two children.  So from that standpoint she had been laid at least twice.  That meant she was a decent fuck or the one who had fucked her was desperate.
	Rain’s attention went to Amber.  She was no more than seven, very pretty—long straight blond hair, and as sweet as pie.  Rain’s cock surged and he thought—‘just a look.’  The little girl wore a pretty little dress and up under it Rain did slip his hand.  Not a reaction one was noted from the frozen still little thing; Rain smiled to her with torrid thoughts increasing…

	At ten to the hour Rain had little Amber out on the green-yellow carpet, dress up and panties down.  A sweet little virgin hairless pussy greeted him.  He smiled and lusted; then went down on the pussy to give it a nice licking.  It wasn’t musty like Doralee and Heather’s was, it was soft, slick, and pleasing to his tongue.  His eyes took in every nuance of the girl’s poon—neighbor Amy Tarunda filling his mind.
	After much ado about licking he moved up, moving his pants down, and resting his thundering schlong to the girl’s innocent cunt.  There was, of course, no way he could make penetration.  Oh, there was a way, if he didn’t mind the pain and discomfort or horror of it all.  Settling for humping on the girl’s poon was just as good as penetrating it.
	At five after the hour he went to the front door—locked it, turned the sign, and killed the front porch lights and some of the interior lights, too.  Then he took Jayleen and right there behind the counter she stood out stripped her young teen body down and began a serious attentive romp.
	Five seconds after sinking his pud into her non-virgin cunt and did the phone ring.  That was distracting and he so noted Jayleen’s eyes beginning to blink.
	‘Shit!  Piss!  Fuck!  Godmother-fucker, shit!’ he cursed.  Jayleen was starting to come around—and his EMAD was not with him.  The phone rang and rang and rang.  Rain slid his dick into Jayleen’s pussy and tried not to be distracted but the phone was a major distraction and Jayleen’s “awareness” was frightening.
	Suddenly the phone stopped ringing.  Jayleen seemed to calm down but he could see that she was sweating; her heart was beating faster, and her pussy had sufficiently “moistened.”  Rain finished up somewhat more hurriedly his task of getting off and it was fantastic!  His cock was in some agony but he endured it to the end.  Jayleen wasn’t a virgin but that was ok, her pussy was still snug enough to satisfy his meat stick and did so for five minutes.
	It was intense, the sweat just rolled off of his body—mingling with Jayleen’s.  His balls slapped hard against the girl’s body; her nipples grinded against his chest; their lust soiled the sullen still air.
	The phone began ringing again just as he was cumming.  It was fifteen after the hour.  Fear swelled up in him as much as his cock was swelling inside Jayleen.  One jut, two juts, three juts, FOUR! And he was done.  His cock spewed great quantities of love juice DEEP into Jayleen’s poon.  The lust level was still incredible high—down onto the girl’s mouth he went smothering her with his own while his hips continued to thrust.

	The desire to have little Amber alone for a while was high with him.  In a basement somewhere; out in the desert; taking time to break in her pussy so as he could get off in it.  That went for her sweet mouth and asshole, too.  
	After dressing everyone and returning them to their proper state of being, he left.  He was ill—very-very tired out with a tremendous headache and swelled schlong that wouldn’t quit.  There was some disorientation and a vile bile that soiled his throat and made him quite ill on his way home.
	Once home it was straight to the bathroom for a long hot shower.  His Dad was out of town on business, his Mom working at her at-home travel agency thing.  “Supper’s on the table!” she yelled from her office.  “OK!” Rain said giving her the feedback of his existence and acknowledgement.
	The long hot shower helped his ills but he would have preferred to have had more time with Jayleen.  Doralee, Heather, and Vicki, too.  And for the hell of it, he would have likened to have fucked the Socialite!  And her daughter—for sure he would have liked to have jerked off onto her sweet face, cum in her mouth, and then coat her chest and pussy.  Oh!
	After the shower he didn’t bother with dressing he merely flopped onto his bed and lay out—thinking.  Another visit to the bookstore was in the make.  He hoped Jayleen’s girlfriends would be there—if not, then so be it and he would nail Jayleen all to himself.
	The thoughts of the girls, and others, filled him and kept his cock hard.  It ached—oh how it ached.  With his eyes closed he thought of Jayleen—and Amy.  There, too, was a couple of female teachers he’d like to sink his tube steak into; then every other girl he knew and didn’t know but would like to.  With an EMAD—all things were possible.

	What time it was he didn’t know, it was dark and he was too tired to even turn his head to see his digital clock on the nightstand.  The a/c was on blowing cool air across his body.  Surprisingly, his cock was still swelled but not as aching as it had been.  Jayleen and Amy filled his thoughts; he was strangely on a hillside of wildflowers—bright sunny day, naked in the company of Jayleen, Amy, and Amber.  While Amy and Amber frolicked about nakedly, Rain fucked Jayleen.  It was a picnic of sorts and the scene was sublime.
	Suddenly Rain though not aware of time was aware of something else.  His fingers were about his johnson still manipulating the sensitive organ.  Something was up—he was quite sure what but something.  He waited.  Listened.  Pinched off a fart, then continued massaging his prick.

	Then, his nose picked up the scent of roses—a special kind of roses that was only associated with his Mom’s perfume.  It was a special unique blend of roses, tulips, and wildflowers.  His Mom’s perfume.  Usually, though, he couldn’t smell it unless she was close by.
	His neck was sore; staring straight up letting his eyes accustom to the darkness he waited until he could count the exposed rafters.  When he could he let his eyes travel down to the wall, his trophies of excellence on the wall, then right to his desk, stereo, and bedroom door.
	The door was open askew.
	There was somewhere there!
	Having no siblings and his Dad out of town, it could only be one of two peoples—a burglar or his Mom!  Quickly, though, did he nix the burglar ‘cause since when did burglars wear Rose Petal Purfume?
	His Mom was spying on him!
	His MOM was SPYING—on him!
	Wow.

	The need to pee woke him up at the early hour of 4:30.  his cock ached—and as he stood pissing into the toilet he thought of the bookstore incident and wished oh how he wished there had been more time.  More time to sufficiently enjoy Jayleen and the others, including the extras, Amber and her Mother.  
	He was only halfway along with his pissing when his cock began to stir.  Stroking his pissing member felt good; he rubbed his ass and thought of stuffing himself into little Amber that quickly segued to Amy Tarunda.  He knew that they were too young for penetration—but surely he could rub in them, hump on them, cum on them.  Surely.
	Making back to his room he heard unfamiliar sounds causing him to pause in the hall.  The “sounds” were from his parents’ room.  Standing still mindlessly masturbating he listened—then drew near to his parents’ room and heard unfamiliar sounds but then again—they WERE familiar.  The sounds of sex—or sex acts in progress.
	Peeking into the darkened room he saw on the bed his Mom; she was alone.  The light from her bedside clock and natural light from Mother Nature outside her windows gave way to Rain that his Mom was “gettin’ after it.”  She was masturbating!
	It totally blew Rain’s mind; he never thought of his Mom in such a way, he never thought of her in a sexual manner—not even being in possession of the EMAD.  She was his MOM!  Sure she was pretty and he had seen glimpses of her partially clothed—but she was his MOTHER!

	Rain flung himself to the hall wall and “got after” it himself.  Who was he masturbating to?  Jayleen?  Amber?  Amy?  Ms. Fritch?  Aunt Belina?  That girl at the store?  His Mom?
	His Mom.
	Rain’s cock surged to a serious hardness and he found himself near out of control in the whacking business.  It wasn’t Jayleen, Heather, Amber, Ms. Fritch who filled his mind—but his Mom.  His MOM!  Oh, how could he!  There was no understanding it, no comprehending.  His fingers tightened about his fuck meat and hammered all the harder.
	When his hand grew tired and before “switching” he peeked again.
	This time his eyes had accustomed to the lack of sufficient light and he could see his Mom a little better.  She was completely nude, completely and she lay contorting on her bed, thrashing about—arching her back, moaning and groaning as she frigged herself.  Rain dropped to his knees and moved in…

	What would his Mom do if she caught him—inside her room while she masturbated.  Not too mention the fact that he himself was naked (with a raging hard-on?)  On his knees he crept in just a little ways to get a better view.  It was insane—his heart raced as he crept along; he had snuck into his parents’ room when he was a kid; surprising them with his antics, presents, or just because.  This was different—he wasn’t a kid.
	Peeking up over the foot of his Mom’s bed—there she was with her fingers massaging her Mommy cunt.  It was incredible, his first Up Close and Personal viewing of his Mom’s cunt.  His Mom’s cunt!  Wow and double brain freeze wow.  
	There was a slight “odor” in the air, not offense—it was sex.  How Rain kept from leaping up from the floor and “mounting” his Mom he didn’t know.  Mostly he was intrigued by watching her masturbating action.  He knew that girls did such a thing but he had never actually seen a girl (let alone his Mom) do it.
	But wait!  There’s more!
	As she wriggled on her bed he saw something strange.
	Blinking his eyes he narrowed and brought his head right up to the edge of the foot of the bed.  What was IN her asshole?  He was confused—he knew girls who were on the “periods” had little strings dangling from their pussies—but what would they put up their ass?  And why?
	Then his Mom, flung her hand out and grabbed something from her nightstand.  Rain narrowly missed being seen.  He held his breath with his hand still vehemently gripping his fully engorged cock.  

	When it was deemed safe again he peeked.  He was more confused than ever; there was something in his Mom’s pussy now.  It was long, cylindrical, and it was a candle.  A candle shaped like a penis!  Rain was baffled.  This was beyond his knowledge-he knew girls were weird but geeze!
 	Watching his Mom massage her pussy and then work the candlestick-dildo in and about her cunt not only was mind boggling but sexually stimulating!  Hard pressed was Rain to keep his mouth shut; his Mom, Gloria, worked the dildo—worked the dildo—worked the dildo in and out—in and out.  Arching her back she revealed to her sneaky son there was another dildo candlestick jammed into her asshole!
	Rain just about lost it and then realized he was losing it—his cum.  Sperm was squirting out of cock soiling his Mom’s bedding and house shoes.  He didn’t care, though—at the moment of ejaculation nothing mattered but to complete the deed and be damned all else.
	Suddenly, there was action on the bed; peeking he saw his Mom turning over—her ass up in the air and there was that anal dildo.  He couldn’t believe it—‘how did that feel?’ he wondered.  He wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out.
	Gloria worked the dildo twins, spanked her own ass and made incredible noises that Rain could only determine as sexual.  Then it got kicked into high gear; Gloria lay on her side, leg up, and worked the dildo in her pussy furiously.  She made more noises and Rain was unable to pull away even if an axe wielding hockey mask wearing maniac came barging thru the wall.  
	Then she was back on her back working the candlestick dildo in a furious manner in and out and all about her womanness.  Faster and faster, using the fingers of her free hand to massage the top area of her Motherly poon and the dildo grinding against super sensitive “parts” she subsequently submitted herself to a glorious orgasm.
	The “odor” Rain had gotten a whiff of earlier returned—and was more prevalent if not stagnant.  Rain suddenly found himself in a wonderlust—a lust propelling him to jam his tongue into his Mom’s cunt.  His MOM’s cunt!  Gulping for air and finally getting a grip on himself—other than his dick, Rain slipped out of his Mom’s room and scurried to the hall bathroom and to the shower.
	Despite just recently jerking off to completion—Rain’s cock remained steadfastly hard.  Super hard.  He knew that it wouldn’t decrease unless it had properly gotten off—meaning, in a girl’s cunt.  He stroked himself and let cascades of near chilling water soothe his body.

	Mr. Twiggler’s dog was barking her brains out, which meant Henry Vassman was tossing papers out which meant that it was at least 7AM.  Rain rolled over with bleary eyes staring at his bedside clock.  Yep, 7AM, 7:20AM to be exact.  He felt like crap—not really crap-crap—just exhausted.  His cock the most.  In his mind swirled Vicki Bonner, Heather Brighton, Ms. Fritch.  As his body and mind calmed some, the image of his Mom filled to capacity his mind.
	It was difficult enough to envision his Mom masturbating.  Barely was there the concept of girls his age (or therebouts) finger fucking themselves let alone his very own Mom.  It was mind boggling and confounded him beyond belief.
	Thankfully it was Sunday.   Laying still for a moment he continued to calm himself, then he caught the whiff of not sex odors but bacon.  He yawned and then felt the need to pee.  The need for more calming and relaxing filled him but soon the need to pee overwhelmed him.
	He was at his door when his Mom called out, “Hurry up, Rain, we’ve got Church in an hour.”
	Church.
	Church!
	Oh my!

	Life would never be the same.  It just couldn’t be—not after knowing about his Mom.  Sitting at the breakfast table Rain watched his Mom move about the kitchen.  She was clad merely in her nightgown.  As Rain stared he noted the absence of panties!  He couldn’t recall if she went like that before or not.  Sure she pranced about in just her nightgown before—plenty of times.  Rain had never noticed whether or not she wore panties then.
	Again, his mind began to race and become infatuated with seeing his Mom naked.  Was she still with the candles in her pussy and asshole?  Oh God!  He had a hard-on!  And wearing just sweats made it worse ‘cause like his Mom, he wasn’t wearing underwear.
	When his Mom went to the sink to clean up the few dishes after breakfast, Rain’s eyes focused solely on her ass.  His cock was screaming.  What to do—what to do!
	Asking his cock and he got his answer.  Polishing off his breakfast he slowly made way to his Mom.  The scent of her perfume ignited Rain and as he made the pass behind her he moved in closer.  His Mom either didn’t know of his presence or did—she backed up.

	The incident frightened the both of them—startling them.  Rain was about to flee when his Mom turned around.  Their eyes met and there was fire.  A new unknown passion began to surge in Rain—he felt the same from his Mom.  His Mom!  He couldn’t fathom it—there was no fathoming it but only to go with it.
	Their eyes burned into each other—their passing began superheating with their bodies pressing together creating “steam” wafting thru their clothes.  Rain’s cock pronounced itself proudly right up against his Mom’s body.  There was a look in Gloria’s face—a want.  It was agony and want balancing on a sharp blade.
	Rain placed his hands to his Mom’s hips, his hands gliding over what he could get at.  Just the mere touch of his hands to her body sent him into euphoric upheaval.  His Mom’s lips trembled and she was beginning to melt.  Suddenly without hesitation his erection went down between his Mom’s legs.  Rain pressed himself up to her closer feeling her nipples pressing against his bare chest.
	“We cant do this.” Gloria suddenly blurted.  Panic filled her eyes and though she had no place to go she backed up against the sink counter.  Rain held off his attempt to shag his Mom right then and there, backed up and stood trembling at what had almost happened.
	“Go shower and get ready for church.” she said on trembling lips.
	Rain obeyed—stumbling along as he did so.

	To say the least it was a long quiet ride to the church.  In the shower he had stood in brisk cold water.  It didn’t help.  He wanted to bone his Mom and had come so close.  He wanted to bone his Mom.  His MOM!  How could he even think it!  It didn’t turn his stomach or thoughts but ignited his thoughts and kept his cock hard.
	Of course, there was the EMAD that could make things happen like he wanted.  But he held off on that venture—his Mom was wanting—it was just a matter of time.
	Like little boys sitting on wooden pews in the heat of a southernly located church—Rain was ansy.  He couldn’t sit still and in no way get into the message the preacher was giving.  During intermission when the congregation went to their Sunday school classes, Rain made for the bathroom and tried to whack off.
	Deacons Matt, Brad, and Nick came in interrupting Andy’s doing.  He pretended to have completed his piss job and flushed.  Washing his hands he agonizingly slipped out and made his way elsewhere.

	Along his way…
	“I know what that is.”
	Rain bumped into Bonnie Vorhee.  She was cute, very, and had caught him off guard.  
	“What?” Rain asked not knowing what she was referring to.
	The little ten year old blushed, lowered her head into her shoulders and then boldly pointed—pointed to his erect erection.
	Rain nearly fainted.  He was sure his heart stopped.  He didn’t know what to say except, “You do, do you?”
	Bonnie smiled and nodded quickly that she did.  She was pretty, long silky brown hair cut perfectly at mid back; very nicely dressed; and she smelled fresh.  She was fuckable.  Very.
	“Uh, wanna see it?”
	Bonnie smiled.  Rain lusted and led the way to a room.

	It wasn’t so long ago, couple of months in fact, that he shagged Arianna Varrick in the room.  It was a conference room, small, and very seldom used.  Arianna was in a wheelchair due to physical problem.  She was Rain’s age, sixteen, and naughty.  The two had been friends for a long time and discussing sex was their primary topic.  The discussion soon led to “doing it” and doing it at church DURING church.
	In the private conference room—Rain addressed Bonnie first,
	“You first.” Rain said.
	Bonnie was all giggles and couldn’t keep her eyes off of him (or his erection.)  Bonnie held fast a moment, shrugged and was all a blush but surprising and catching Rain off guard again, she pulled off her pretty blue dress.  There was her trainer and blue panties to please Rain.  Dropping to his knees he looked at the girl and moaned.  
	With great care and little hesitation he lowered Bonnie’s blue panties and marveled at her lovely-lovely pussy.  It was nice.  Very-very nice and pleased him greatly.  Greatly.  
	“Are you ok?” Bonnie asked as she stepped out of her underwear and stood naked before him. 
	Rain was ok, but not ok.  It was agonizing to a point—the desire increased ten-fold and he feverishly undone his dress slacks and they fell to his ankles leaving him standing in his boxers.  His cock popped right out thru the flap for her to see.
	“Oooooh!” she said with a gleam.

	With her fingers about his prong she worked Rain into a tizzy.  His cock swelled and he wondered oh how he wondered how he was going to fit himself into her?
	“H-have you seen one before?” he asked timidly.
	“I have an older brother, Johnny.”
	That was right, she did.  He was eighteen and attended a rival high school, sometimes they met on the basketball court Friday nights.  He was alright and Rain thought him to be very-very lucky.  Rain didn’t have a sister.  
	Bonnie not only SAW her brother’s cock, but did likewise to it as she was doing to Rain—fingers about it stroking Up and Down—Up and Down.  She also kissed it and sucked on the head.
	She did!
	She demonstrated this to Rain sending the poor teen nearly over the edge.  He went fully into her mouth, hand behind her head and worked her on his schlong for several minutes before he blew his load.
	Her brother often came off in her mouth, too.
	“What else does he do, to you—what-what else do you two do?”

	After church doings (and then some) there was a barbeque at the church’s neighboring park.  “Do you want to stay?” Gloria asked of her son.
	“Not really,” he said, “we can come back later.”
	He knew his Mom wasn’t too much into the church’s barbeque as it was usually crowded and chaotic.  They drove home in silence—no discussing of the preacher’s sermon like they usually did.  Once home his Mom went straight to her room and shut the door.  Just like that.  Of course, she was probably changing clothes.  That was normal.  Rain went to his own room and stripped to the skin.  Standing before his mirror he admired his naked body—it wasn’t bad, could use a little more toning.
	His cock stood out proudly—very proudly.  Bonnie Vorhee had sucked his cock and sucked it good.  Then, after hoisting her up on the conference table he had spent five minutes licking and fingering out her little virgin cunt.  She was too small to be properly fucked—in the cunt.  She was, however, just right for being buggered.  Her brother buggered her and buggered her often.  He claimed that it wasn’t sex—“in the ass is not sex; in the mouth—is not sex.  The Prez sez so.”

	So, after munching virgin cunt until his fingers and tongue wore out—he stuffed her asshole.  What a ride.  What a RIDE!  He was amazed that his cock fit.  It did take a little time, some spittle and pre-fingering, but it fit.  The ride was on there after and he couldn’t wait until sometime to get her pussy.	
	Bonnie was a little sore in the asshole and Rain a little sore in the cock.  They loved on one another a bit, groping and kissing, and lots of continued fingering.  But time was against them and they had to get their clothes on and be on their way.
	After admiring himself in the mirror he went to shower up.  It didn’t help—his body was hot and his cock was even more raging hard than ever.  It simply wouldn’t be calm until he sunk it into his Mom’s hot twat.
	Well…
	After frying and fussing with his hair his stomach grumbled.  That barbeque dinner at church would have been pretty tasty.  But so was his Mom’s cunt!  He sighed, farted, then went to put some clothes on and see if his Mom wanted to go back to the church or not.
	As he crossed the hall he noted that his Mom’s bedroom door was open.  He waited—listening.  And right as rain—he heard the telltale sounds of ecstasy in progress.  Carefully he stole up to the door and gave a peek.  Again, his Mom was naked on her bed with a candlestick dildo in her ass and pussy and she was hammering away.  The illumination was better the second time and he took in his naked naughty Mom in a whole new light.
	Gloria wasn’t even aware of her son’s presence until he was already fully in the room and at the foot of her bed.  She shot up quickly in a panic—but didn’t yell at him to “GET OUT!”  she didn’t even cover up her nakedness.  Her eyes went from his face to his cock.
	“Oh my God.” she breathed.  
	“Like what you see?” he asked stupidly.
	His Mom said nothing; she began fingering herself and the lust level increased dramatically.  A minute passed and then she moved on her bed, laying back opening her legs.  
	What was Rain to do?  He smiled and climbed his fine hunky nude body onto the bed and sashayed himself right up between his Mom’s legs.  There was to be no foreplay—no time for that.  As soon as he was straddling his Mom was working his pud; a gently grip and then she was guiding it into her sex.  Rain gave a slow inward thrust and nearly blew his load off.

	Slowly ever so s-l-o-w-l-y did he sink his pud (finally) into the cunt that had given him life some sixteen years earlier.  He began to pump; locking his arms above her so as he could take in her face and jiggling titties.  His legs were out straight with just his hips moving up and down.  His Mom’s legs flailed a bit, moving up and down, wrapping about her son’s waist, folding back and going off in all directions as her son made love to her.
	And it was love—mixed with a little hot monkey sex.  As their illicit coupling embroiled upon them intense emotions that were all sex, Rain lay on his Mom and their bodies melded as one.  There was kissing; their bodies meshed; Gloria locked her son’s legs to keep him from flailing about so and soon it was only his hips that were doing the humping.  It was fucking fantastic!  It was the best fuck he had ever had.  No other fuck compared.

*

	No other fuck compared.  After his Mom he had gone on to hump other pussy of differing ages—but none compared to screwing his very own Mom.  He sighed, farted, and watched the coyote continue to mark his territory.  Banging his Mom had been a long-long time ago.  He had moved on, med school, private sector, world wide travel, and so on.  His bone had burrowed into lot of pussy but still—none compared to his Mom’s.
	At the sound of a helicopter noising up the serene serenity of the desert.  That sucked.  He assumed it was because of little Ashley Michelle.  The hour was the dawning of a new day, the chopper buzzed the immediate area where Ashley and her little friends, Jurney and Margeaux, had been riding their horses.  It would be intensely searched before going out in a pattern of some kind picking up clues of the missing Jurney and Margeaux—and the perpetrator to their mishap.
	Time to move.

	The cave was good shelter, but the advent of the helicopter on the scene was not good security wise.  Soon a bevy of searchers would be in the desert no matter how hot it got.  Desperation made for bad decisions.  There was a ridge he could possibly hide in; they were known to have holes and even small caves.  Just right for a rat to hide in.
	He began picking his way along the side of the cave with Jurney and Margeaux in tow.  The heat of the sun was terrible; the throp-throp-throp of helicopter was in the distance behind him.  That was good.  

	Just as they made the ridge of rocks and found something similar to a trail there was an explosion.  Not one but several.  Not too far away, either.  Rain had no idea.  The girls ducked down clinging to one another.  Rain saw smoke stirring up into the sky further down at the end of the ridge where the rocks went back into the desert.
	“Miners.” he said.
	“Miners?” asked Jurney.
	“Yeah, prospectors still searching for their dreams.”  Close.
	“Probably best we avoid them.” And with that he took the girls in the opposite direction.

	It wasn’t easy picking away along the interior of the ridge; the rocks were hot and the passage was often more difficult that not.  Some places the girls could scoot thru on their hands and knees while Rain had to climb out into the open.  At length they came to a pool of water, it was green but actually clear.  It was shallow, natural, and very refreshing.  The girls enjoyed the refreshing water; Rain did, too, until he heard the throp-throp-throp of the helicopter making a noisy presence.  And too close, too.
	Rain slipped up telling the girls to stay put (if they knew what was good for them).  Then, nakedly, Rain tried to locate the bothersome chopper.  He found it soon enough, way at the end of the ridge he was going.  This wasn’t good.  Behind him was the prospectors blowing up the landscape, before him was a means in which to end his way of life.
	He sighed and debated what to do.  Abandon the girls and tried to find a hole to hide in.  Maybe in the pool of water there was sanctuary.  Maybe.  Not likely, but maybe.
	Just then, something strange happened.  He didn’t know what to make of it but something from the desert floor shot up striking the helicopter.  What exactly it was Rain had no idea.  It sort of resembled a missile but it was different.  It was like a burst of air—like one of those dust devils—only stronger.
	The helicopter twirled around out of control, went vertical, twirled vertically, and then—
	CRASH!
	The ka-boom that followed was deafening and though Rain was glad the chopper was no longer a constant pest—it was of concern ‘cause it surely would bring even MORE unwanted attention.
	Ushering the kids out of the pool it was back along the ridge back the way they had come to the opposite end (again.)  He was just at the point of where he and the girls had come from their cave when from behind him--

	A moan.
	That was the simplest way to describe it.  But not a normal moan, of course.  It was a haunting moan that droaned and sent shivers thru Rain.  “What the fuck?” he said.  Turning around he saw the entire sky (in that area of the down chopper) turn a hideous black.  Electricity arched from the ground to the sky and back again.  An acrid smell filled the air that Rain couldn’t describe, either.
	Stranger, still, though, was Rain felt compelled to “go check it out.”
	He knew that he should go to where the prospectors were blowing up the rocks at the opposite end of the ridge.  He’d figure something out when he got there (about the naked girls).  But for the longest time did he do nothing but linger in the spine of the ridge watching intently the area beyond.
	Slowly the strangeness dissipated leaving a sudden gust of wind that howled thru the ridge bringing the strange moan he had heard earlier.  A queer stillness then befell the land.  Nothing stirred—nothing dared to.  
	“Stay here.” Rain said—he was going to check it out regardless.
	It probably wasn’t a good idea but off he went.
	Jurney and Margeaux clung to one another and waited.