Message-ID: <29046asstr$983034602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: kellis X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch19 {Varkel} (Mb MbF oral anal ped violent) Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2001 12:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge The Innocent Fugitives a Novel by Varkel Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel Chapter 19: Tom's Secret Admirer Jenny called from the kitchen, "Are you about ready to go, Bobbie?" The girl stuck her head out of her bedroom. "What's the rush?" The woman came to the hall door and regarded her narrowly. "You know what the rush is! Paul and I must be at O'Hare in another hour. I'm about to call the taxi. We'll drop you at Louise's." "Can't I just walk?" "No, Bobbie, I'm afraid not. Paul and I have discussed this. He thinks we should ask for your door key, too, after what we caught you doing here a few nights back." "You didn't catch me doing anything! I was just naked. Alan even had his parka on." "Nevertheless, dear. Bring me your house key and hurry up with your packing. I'm going to call the taxi." With ill grace the girl surrendered her key. Her adults were supposed to be gone all weekend. She had meant to return home, because Louise would hardly be fun for more than one night, and renew her assault upon Tom, who she was confident would now be putty in her hands -- or elsewhere. But during their frolic with Alan he had regarded her with a certain contempt every time he withdrew his wet penis. She dared not depend absolutely upon his acceptance. She had seen enough to fear the big city's indifference if he turned her out when she had no home. Putting a few final toiletries in her bag, she paused, eyes lighting with an idea. She closed her bedroom door softly and removed a peculiar object from its hiding place on the ledge behind her dresser mirror. It was Hawker's three-pronged dildo. She had found its use between the man's buttocks stimulating and agreeable, so much so that she had slipped it into her book bag while he lay exhausted with head thrown back, hands pressing his temples. She shook her head at the memory. The old fool! Why did he have to come twice? Not that she would complain for herself. His second effort had lasted forever, transporting her to Elysian Fields of ecstasy. She had screamed until her throat hurt, happily bearing his weight until she was breathless and dizzy. His face was bright red, visible above hers if she titled her head back. When she felt his small second ejaculation, she breathed a sigh of relief for him. He had rolled off her immediately, making a peculiar sound in his throat, fumbling in the drawer of his bed tray. Shakily he took a small white pill and popped it under his tongue. His organ was already shrunken, drooling a single thin drop. She had got up and dressed, stealing his sex-changer in the process, calmly skipping down the stairs, shrugging later when she remembered the cameras. But the next day in school she caught him watching her from his office doorway. He had smiled and winked. Obviously he was not peeved with her in the slightest. Ah, but this triple-threat gadget could make all the difference with Louise! Unlike a boy, it would not squirt and pull out, then demand to be sucked. Bobbie anticipated a full weekend of pleasure for both girls. She zipped her bag and took it to the kitchen. In the innocent tones of a child anticipating a lark, she declared, "Okay! I'm ready to go." * * * The stills, made with the remote-controlled programmable Electroflex, were magnificent: sharply focused in high- resolution with perfect, soft-shadow lighting. He selected twelve, nearly all with the girl's prettily androgynous face recognizable: a pensive close-up; another with eyes twinkling in unmistakable delight; one with a penile shaft filling the space between bushy pubes and pink lips, her eyes slitted and cheeks sunken; one zoomed out a bit on the same scene but showing her almost boyish chest; then the shocking one, the one that could earn him ten years behind federal bars: again with penis well mouthed but further zoomed out, showing elbow resting on upraised knee, hairless female pudendum gaping red. Another series showed hairy male hands fitting her with the three point dildo; the girl kneeling upright on a bed wearing it and smiling proudly; others at various removes showing the business end buried in a hairy anus. In one picture, shot by the back-up Electroflex through the girl's legs, a penis and scrotum dangling below the plastic instrument left no doubt as to the gender of the receiver. In every picture the girl's skin glowed with youthful perfection, zitless, backed by the faintest tracery of veins. He had touched that skin, licked it, smelled it, tasted it, fucked it: under the arms, behind the knees, around the ears, deeply into mouth, anus and vagina. The memory of it erected his manhood painfully and produced an ominous tingle in his chest. After pausing for a deep breath and a taste of wine, he methodically made up a dozen files, named gr2boy01.jpg through gr2boy12.jpg, and posted them anonymously through his trusted offshore remailer to alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.pre-teen. Two hours later they appeared in the newsgroup. Fifteen minutes after that the first response popped up. "Beautiful! Give us more!" "Incomparable clarity!" "The girl who is also a boy!" "Who's lucky ass is she fucking?" And of course, "You made her seem to enjoy it, you child-molesting son of a bitch. I'd hope the cops cut off your dick and stick it up your ass, except you'd love that, wouldn't you?" The responses mounted. Hawker read them, lying back on his recliner, one hand paging through the newsgroup until his seminal fluid stained the towel draped across his belly for that purpose. * * * Tom heard a distant knocking upstairs. It persisted stubbornly and it began to irk him. He got up from the PC and left his apartment to learn the cause of the racket, only to discover Alan rapping on Bobbie's door. "She's obviously not home, Alan," he chided the lad patiently. The boy rolled his eyes around at Tom. "But she promised!" he insisted and knocked again. "Her family has gone out of town for the weekend. Paul told me it was work-related. Bobbie is staying somewhere with a friend." Alan's eyes brightened. "She's still in town?" "Maybe. If so, I have no idea where." "But she promised!" the boy repeated himself, almost whining. "I have my place to myself for the entire weekend, and we were going to have fun together." "You're alone for the weekend?" Tom felt a rise of anticipation but kept it out of his face. "Yeah," the boy replied. "My mom and step dad went off to Arizona, just to be alone, Mom said." "I'm surprised they would leave you like that." "Mom filled the fridge and left me some money. She said I was old enough to take care of myself." Tom grinned. "And so you saw this as a splendid opportunity to have sex with Bobbie." "Wouldn't you?" "Yes, I suppose." Tom added with a certain calculation, "You could stay with me, if you like, but I can only offer you boy sex." Alan's disappointment faded fast. "You won't be rough like before?" he asked shyly. "I'll be very gentle with you, Alan," Tom replied, palming the boy's smooth cheek, consciously realizing he had committed to an undisguisable homosexual experience. No, he corrected himself ruefully, it would be pure pedophilia. Perhaps the randy boy would not notice the difference. They walked down the stairs hand in hand, both of them with expectant erections pushing at their trousers. "Are you queer, Tom?" Alan asked as they entered the young man's apartment. "I think I am." "I'm very queer for you just now, Alan, although I don't often fantasize about guys." "I think about cocks always," the boy responded in a low voice, although he did not appear to be embarrassed. "I think about cocks more than I think about titties." "But you enjoyed fucking Bobbie," Tom objected. "Yeah, I know, but when I come I think of her as a boy. Haven't you noticed? She looks like one if you don't check her out between the legs." "Yes, I've noticed," Tom replied, suddenly fearing Jenny's wrath if she ever found out about what he had let himself do with the sick little girl. "Her short haircut makes her face appear very boyish." "Yeah, yeah," Alan said with some animation, remembering his last time with the girl. "It was her face I stared at when I came. She looked like a boy." "I can understand that, Alan," Tom said sheepishly. "She's like a fresh boy, but how could you be interested in a grown up like me?" "You have a nice cock, and you're not too old, not too hairy," Alan stated firmly. "Do you want to fuck away the weekend?" Tom asked eagerly. "Fucking hurts, Tom, although I'll do it once or twice, but only before I come, only when I'm really up." Tom nodded. "I know it hurts, and that puzzles me. We have both shat thicker turds than our dicks. It must be because we're afraid of it. I'll work you into a frenzy, Alan. Then I'll fuck you." "I'd like that," the boy responded and presented his pretty face for a kiss. Tom could not believe his good fortune as he kissed the lovely face of the twelve year old queer: his animated sex toy for the entire weekend. * * * Alan lay naked upon the bed as Tom explored the exquisite young body, stroking graceful, hairless calves, fondling girlish thighs, sucking nipples that were raised similarly to Bobbie's on small cones of flesh. He leaned down to engulf the boy's modest organ, relishing its unique texture, its strange taste. He did not want Alan to come, not yet. "You plan to fuck me now," the boy gasped, stating the obvious, when Tom raised his mouth from the pulsing member. "Turn over," Tom responded, and Alan complied without protest. Tom quickly slicked himself with Vaseline, staring all the while at the soft backside of alluring thighs and perky, inviting buttocks. He poked a greasy finger at the tight anus, pushing in gently half a finger, then two all the way. The boy quivered, but did not display any discomfort. Indeed he pushed back a bit. Tom spread the shapely legs and positioned himself between them, his hand on his own engorged cock, the head of it pressed against the boy's shriveled, pink rose. He thrust with gradually increasing pressure until the glans popped through, defeating the relaxed sphincter. The fatter part of the cock was still to enter, but Tom paused for a moment to allow Alan to accept the sensation. "It's not too bad," the boy announced in a voice muffled by the pillow. Tom eased his cock in all the way until his abdomen pressed against the relaxed buttocks. He paused again, leaning forward and laying his cheek against the boy's. "Are you all right?" "You're big," Alan replied laconically. "I won't take long, darling," Tom said, kissing the flaxen head. "I'll come soon." Tom began to fuck gently, in small movements, urging himself to come as soon as possible. He felt Alan's flesh beneath him, touching his own from feet to head. His perverted brain relished the freshness and youth. Curiosity arose. "Tell me how it feels." "I was just thinking about that," the boy responded slowly. "It doesn't hurt at all now. It feels one moment like I am shitting a big one, then like it's pushing back into me." He actually chuckled, producing a vibration around Tom's cock. "Shitting is not this interesting." "You don't mean it feels good!" "Why not? Shitting used to feel good sometimes. I think this could get to be nice." A real queer in the making, Tom thought. He licked the lad's peach-fuzz cheek as a tingle in his cock announced the approaching climax. "I'm coming, Alan!" he cried out and began to fuck in long strokes. "Oh!" cried the lad, eyes widening. "Oh!" Tom wanted to ask if this hurt, but such considerations were temporarily submerged in the flood of semen he shot into the youthful entrails. He whimpered, gasping with incredible pleasure, and rolled off the boy immediately. "That was so much nicer than the first time," Alan gushed, turning on his side to embrace his lover. Tom, for the moment deflated, felt self-disgust rise in his chest. "I hurt you at the end, didn't I?" "No, not really," the boy replied thoughtfully, "though pushing my dick on the bed sheet nearly made me come." "Of course you're ready to come!" "But I don't want to ..." "Why not?" "I want to come in _you_!" Tom sighed. He certainly owed the lad. "Can you reach the Vaseline?" But Alan didn't move. "Bobbie knew how to suck really good. Can't a boy do it just as well?" Tom took a breath. "I expect she can do it a lot better than I can." His hand enclosed the smaller organ. He felt it surge against his hand. Indeed the lad was ready. "This is the only cock I ever sucked, and that only once." Apparently Alan was prepared for this argument. "Yeah, but you've got one, too. You ought to know what a cock needs better than a girl." The source of this idea was soon disclosed. "At least, that's what Carl says." Tom, despite his lack of experience in queer sex, had engaged in many verbal debates. He smiled. "Then you know the answer." "Huh?" "You tell me who does it better: Carl or Bobbie?" After a moment's hesitation the lad admitted, "Bobbie was the best, but I was sucking your tongue when she did it." "What did she do that was so great?" "She quit when I started coming, then started up again when I stopped." "I'm surprised you didn't feel too sensitive!" "I was, almost, but she made the feeling last longer." "Well, let's see if I can do it, too." When he had first discovered masturbation, Tom had experimented with every technique and procedure his delighted imagination could conceive. He recalled one in particular that he had learned in the attic on a rainy autumn Saturday. He had never tried it on another person, of course. "In the interests of science," he said aloud, bending to the lad's middle. "What?" But Tom's mouth was full. He took the small organ half into his mouth, leaving the rear half for thumb and finger to manipulate. His tongue laved the pebbly glans while applying intermittent suction synchronized with the pumping fingers. He felt the boy stiffen. "Oh shit, oh shit!" At the first taste, Tom backed away from the spurting organ, holding it rigidly in his fingers, catching the ejaculate in his yawning mouth. "Hey, don't stop sucking!" Alan demanded, trying to thrust. But Tom held the boy's hips down to the bed, taking care that the subsiding penis received no stimulation. "That's no good!" Alan declared in disgust. "What's the matter? Let me fuck!" But Tom held him rigidly until the last dribble had ceased, and even a moment beyond that, before beginning short strokes with his fingers on the lower skin. "Hoo!" cried the lad in a different tone. Tom's mouth recovered the glans just as it produced the first spurt of a second series. He held it loosely without suction while thumb and fingers jacked the lower skin swiftly. The boy moaned, a long wavering cry, hips thrusting involuntarily now that the man had released them. When the emission ceased, he relaxed totally as if disjointed. Tom rose up, swallowing and wiping his lips. He grinned at the boy. "How was that one?" Eyes stared back in wonder. "You made me come twice. Carl was right!" Tom chuckled. "Maybe, but it's a trick anybody could learn." The boy felt another curiosity. "Let me taste." "You've tasted yourself," Tom asserted positively. "Every boy does. You've even tasted mine. And I'll bet Carl's, too. Did you find any difference?" He raised an eyebrow. "How many have you tasted altogether?" "Only those three," the boy admitted slowly, "but I'm going to taste a whole lot more, just you wait and see!" * * * They showered together, washing each other lovingly, and later went out to a Walgreens. The chill had abated somewhat, the temperature reaching almost forty degrees. Suddenly almost out of Vaseline, Tom was picking a new jar from the shelf in the antiseptic aisle when he heard a snicker from behind himself. "Who's your pretty friend, Tom?" a female voice asked with amusement. Tom stood upright and turned around to confront Allison, a fellow graduate student whom he had known casually for almost four years. Her specialty was the Middle Ages. She seemed obsessed with Latin calligraphy. "Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked with a grin. "Let me guess." Alan scowled at her but said nothing. "Are you into children, Tom? Where did you find this one? Whatever gender it is, the creature is very lovely." Allison was a notorious smart ass with additional reputations for scholarship and high intellect. She stood tall as Tom and seemed taller at moments like this. "Have you never wanted to play with a child, Allison? That was all the rage in the Middle Ages." "Yes, I know. But the players had no doubt about gender." Tom gave her a smug smile. "If you want to know the sex of this one, you'll have to unwrap the bundle.' Allison glanced briefly at Tom, then stared at Alan with a yearning look. "Does it really matter?" she murmured. "I am reminded that a rose is a rose." "But some have thorns," Tom smirked. "How about this one, Tom?" she asked playfully. "That's for you to discover, if you like." Were they talking about flowers? Alan wandered off, looking at the gaudy packaging on the shelves. "If I like?" she inquired with a cock of her head. He nodded. "You need privacy to satisfy that curiosity." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you know where I could get that one private?" "Yes, at my place. I see you're also fascinated by young beauty. Does the gender matter to you?" "No, not with that one," she admitted in a low voice, looking after Alan with the beginnings of a blush. With his testicular pressure recently relieved, Tom grew tired of the game and said dryly, "You know my gender, Allison. If you want to unwrap the pretty package, you'll have to accommodate me, too." "You're a good looking guy, Tom, but I've never found you attractive," she lied. "Have you ever found a guy attractive?" "Just once, when I was eighteen, and he hurt me terribly." "I'm certain you've healed since then." "Perhaps so, Tom, but I now prefer pretty women." "So do I -- and particularly at this moment." The eyes in the plain face widened. "You don't mean -- Do you really think I'm pretty?" "I very much like mousy girls with pale faces and small breasts." "That's cruel, Tom, very cruel." "It's the truth, Allison. You can't deny it. But it's not a disparagement. You've always given me a buzz. You're prettier than you know." She turned her head aside slightly but could not hide the pleasure on her face. She looked back at him hesitantly. "I'm not really a dyke, you know." Her hand came to rest on his upper arm, its tentativeness suggesting her underlying uncertainty. "I won't hurt you, Allison," he responded softly and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I'll be nothing more than your playmate. How could that hurt?" "You don't know much about women, do you?" she whispered with her cheek pressed to his. "I already have a foreboding." He kissed her briefly, touching her lips with his tongue. "Will you spend the weekend with me and the pretty one?" She stood back abruptly with a shocked look on her face. "Are you actually having sex with that child?" It was his turn to be taken aback. "Do you mean you didn't guess?" "I thought we were playing a game with each other, Tom. I wasn't serious. I supposed the kid was a relative of yours." He frowned with concern. "Are you upset by it?" "No, no. I'm rather intrigued actually. But you have to tell me whether it's a girl or a boy. I don't want to be surprised." "Then you'll come with us?" he asked in excitement. She nodded her head eagerly and took hold of his hand. "Alan," Tom called to the boy who had been observing them from down the aisle, "let's go back now." Allison hugged his arm and giggled, her aplomb recovered. "So you're not only a pedophile, you're also queer." He sighed. "Only with that boy. Is it really true you haven't been with a guy for six years?" "What a personal question!" "More personal than asking if I'm queer?" "I didn't ask," she corrected him. She sighed. "Seven years." They walked the two blocks to his apartment, the woman between man and boy, all holding hands. Tom had stuffed their small purchases into his capacious parka pockets. He asked her, "Why haven't you ever come home with me before?" "Huh! Because you never asked." "Huh, yourself! It never occurred to me in my wildest dreams that you would agree." "It didn't? Why not? Aren't men supposed to think about ..." "About what?" "Well, about having sex -- with every woman they see?" He laughed. "I think you're right. They're _supposed_ to!" "Well, what stops them?" "Allison, if you had only smiled at me once!" "That cuts both ways," she observed, shaking her head. Alan drew ahead to study Tom's face. "Is she going home with us?" Tom winked at him. "She likes you a lot." The boy nodded. "Everybody does. But is she going to fuck us?" "I think so," Tom answered calmly, watching the woman's reaction from the corner of his eye. The lad shrugged. Then an idea occurred to him and his face brightened. "Wow, she's a grown woman!" "Oh, yes," Tom agreed, "a college student just like me. She knows everything, too." "Wise-ass!" Allison muttered. "How about talking _to_ me, Alan, instead of _about_ me?" The boy grinned at her. "Well, are you?" She cocked an eyebrow at Tom. "Alan doesn't need a smile." "_He's_ got an intermediary!" She laughed. "Now _I'm_ using the Third Person!" "And you didn't answer his question." "No, I didn't." She pulled the lad's well-clothed body against her own and smiled at him warmly. "Why did you say it like that -- 'she's a _grown_ woman?'" The lad blushed and looked down. "Come on, sweetie. Tell me what pleased you about that idea." Alan mumbled one word and turned completely away, face bright red: "Hair." She looked at Tom in puzzlement. "What's he mean?" "Guess we'll find out," he answered indifferently, but he knew the lad was already comparing Allison to Bobbie. * * * Tom sat on the seedy couch idly playing with his erect cock, watching Allison and Alan naked on the bed, feeling jealous of them both. He wanted each of them, either alone or together, but just now they were sufficient unto themselves. She was exploring the boy's exquisite body with her mouth and tongue in obvious excitement and seeming adoration, while the smaller body lay awash in pleasure, indicated by that unfailing divining rod, a firmly erect penis. "You're magnificent," Tom heard her gasp just before her mouth closed on the entirety of that perfectly straight little rod. Tom rose from the couch and knelt beside them. With a palm on Alan's cheek he began to kiss the face, now lively with approaching orgasm. When it struck, the pretty one squealed into Tom's mouth. After the lad relaxed Tom looked up at Allison to see her swallow and lick her lips. "You didn't save any for me," he chided the woman playfully and leaned down to take the still erect cock into his mouth momentarily. "God, that was splendid!" Allison exclaimed jubilantly. "I've never even dreamed of doing such a thing, certainly not with a mere boy. That has really gotten me worked up, Tom." Alan moved to the far edge of the bed to make room for the two adults. Allison rolled over onto her back and looked up anxiously at Tom, who stood admiring her long, shapely legs, flat belly and small breasts. "You're beautiful, Allison," he said with obvious sincerity, dispelling her concern. "I thought you'd be a bit scrawny." "Please, Tom," she begged with a hand raised to him, knees drawn high, wanting him to climb immediately between them. "No, not yet," he demurred, "though a man can hardly ask for a sweeter invitation." He lay down beside her and took her into his arms. "I want to kiss your lovely face first." "Do you mean that, Tom?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Do you really think I'm lovely?" "There's no reason for me to lie, Allison. I already have you naked in my bed." They kissed with great passion, especially Allison, who threw caution to the wind and accepted the inevitable hurt of losing him. She would have him as a lover, if only for a weekend, because she had no confidence in being able to keep his attention. She had been watching him for two years, too shy and fearful to approach him, even to offer him unsolicited the smile that apparently would have been enough. His fingers explored between her legs as they kissed, quickly finding the magic nub and rubbing it in a way that caused her aroused body to shudder. "Oh, Tom," she groaned in love, pretending that Tom was her first boy, not that boorish lug who had ripped her years before and then cruelly abandoned her after a single night. "Oh, Tom," she groaned again, holding his head to her left breast as he suckled voraciously. Alan moved his head to lick her cheek. When Tom's face snuggled low to lick her belly, she realized his intent. Her hands impatiently pushed his head lower. He repositioned his body with his head between the splayed thighs and knees again raised high around him. He paused to stroke a cheek against a soft inner thigh. "Please," she implored, wanting to feel his tongue on her there. When he took her engorged clitoris into his mouth for gentle, pulsing suction, she cried out in immediately rising climax that peaked in a loud screech. Tom sighed in exultation as her slender thighs squeezed his head. After wiping his mouth on the sheet, he moved his body atop hers and chuckled when he found two faces beneath him. He kissed the boy's lips first and then Allison's, lingering with her as he pushed his painful hardness into her warm tightness. Glancing back and forth from the boy's face to hers, tongue slipping from one mouth to the other, he fucked the woman triumphantly. Allison abandoned all restraint in this second fuck of her life and surrendered completely to the ecstasy. She pushed back at Tom's thrusts as Alan whispered, "Yes! Yes!" in her ear to urge her on. Tom could not see her face when her body jolted with the first orgasmic spasm, because Alan's head was in the way, his mouth muffling her cry. Another climax quickly followed and then still another. Her eyes were closed, her face slack as Tom neared his reward. Alan looked up at him with an excited expression, knowing what was about to happen. Tom kissed Alan's pouty lips and they traded spit before he shouted convulsively down the throat of the pretty boy. * * * Allison lay awake on her back beside the sleeping Tom with the boy half atop her in the smallness of the bed. To her Alan was a beautiful fuck toy for whom she felt no particular affection. She expected to enjoy him a number of times again before the weekend was over but would not miss him when they parted. She would not need to see him further. But Tom, whom she held lightly with an arm under his shoulders -- Tom was another matter entirely. She had wanted him for so long, from such a distance. He had said she was lovely, and she almost shuddered at the memory of hearing those words. And indeed he had no reason to lie. "Are you awake?" Alan asked in a whisper, perhaps unconsciously cupping her breast. "Yes," she replied with a smile. "And so am I," Tom interposed groggily. "This bed is too crowded. Alan, why don't you take a blanket and sleep on the couch?" "I'm ready to go again," the boy countered. "Why don't we do it three way, Tom, like we did with Bobbie? Only this time you should be on the bottom." "Who's Bobbie?" Allison inquired with a sudden edge in her voice. "She's a girl in my class," the boy explained facilely, his words causing Tom to wince. "Tom! How many children do you have in your harem?" He remained silent, and Allison did not pursue the matter, although she wondered what it would be like to have sex with a young girl. "Can we do it three way?" Alan asked again. "I suppose you expect me to be in the middle," Allison asked wryly. "Yeah!" "Allison, we don't have to do this," Tom assured her. "But I want to, Tom, and I want you to take the last virgin part of me." "What part is that?" asked Alan ingenuously. Tom waited for her reply. To his surprise she said flatly, "My ass." "Huh! I don't want to be on the bottom," the boy declared. As the smallest person, his concern was perhaps valid. She responded as if they were arguing something as routine as taking positions around a dinner table. "If I enjoy it, we'll do it again. Then you can be on top." The lad frowned, but this renewed contact was after all his own proposal. He lay on his back in the middle of the bed. Allison squatted over him, leaning down to kiss him as she sat in easy impalement upon his cock. Tom hurriedly lubricated himself with a gob of Vaseline and crouched behind her upraised buttocks. He was careful to be gentle, because he wanted to fuck her ass again in the future. He contented himself briefly with rubbing the head of his cock against her puckered opening before he began to apply pressure. "You must relax," he advised her. "I know that. If I were any more relaxed back there, you'd get a lap full." Tom popped into her just a bit, and when she failed to protest, he slowly pushed all the way in until his lower belly pressed against her soft buttocks. "I can feel you, Tom," Alan announced gleefully. "Don't either of you move. Let me get used to this," Allison ordered in a ragged voice. Shortly she began to squirm slightly against the two invading rods. Alan held still, but Tom answered her by pumping with small strokes. He delighted in the pure naughtiness of their undertaking, his cock pervertedly agitating the asshole of a nubile woman while that of a lad almost young enough to be her son pressed to its limit into her vagina. These thoughts fetched a beginning thrill. "Can you endure it, Sweetheart?" he asked with a quaver, his hands on her hips. "I'll come soon." "Please hurry. It's getting a bit uncomfortable." "Oh, yes!" Tom exclaimed when he felt the familiar tingle in the head of his cock. He continued with small pokes, not wanting to hurt her, although at that moment he would rather have pounded her ass with long, wild strokes. Then he lost it with a shudder and squealing grunts. He pulled out of the woman who immediately sat up to diddle herself while bobbing up and down on the boy's cock. Before long she groaned in a long low gasp of satisfaction that was soon joined by Alan's yelps. "That was very, ah, unusual," she sighed, sitting up straight. "Did you like it?" Alan asked excitedly. "What did it feel like?" She took a breath, considering. "It was better than my vibrator." But the lad wanted details. "I mean, how did you like a dick up your butt?" She sniffed. "I know it feels a lot better in my cunny." His eyes lit. "You liked mine better than Tom's?" She glanced around at the man and winked. "In this case I'd have to say yes." "Wow! Can we do it again?" "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Now take a blanket and sleep on the couch. And, Tom, go wash your cock thoroughly. I don't want to taste shit later on." * * * He looked at his wristwatch: 4:35 A.M., five minutes later than the last time he looked. He had practiced patience for years, but he could not recall a stakeout where he was less certain of the accuracy of his information. Two hours earlier the whore had finally gasped out the address he demanded, after he bit off her other nipple. He had believed her sincerity, enough to release her from her terrible misery with immediate strangulation, but now it seemed that she might have lied or, worse, said the first thing that came to mind in hope of stopping the pain -- always the great drawback of simple physical torture. He had scouted the apartment house, having defeated its main lock with laughable ease. It contained four apartments. He had entered the top two, again with ease. They were empty of tenants, apparently unleased. The large first floor apartment was in use though unoccupied tonight. But it was secured with Nordstrom locks. He had not wasted his time trying to pick them. Their expensive presence on front and back doors, suggesting Bernie Nails' involvement, implied that the whore had spoken truthfully. Additional evidence was the tell-tale conductive alarm tape that his light revealed between sash and frame of every window. It was the kind that also detected a mere crack in the glass. He would have wagered that a Doppler motion detector was also operating over the interior volume. The basement apartment contained three naked people asleep, two on the one bed and one on a couch: man, woman and child. Again he had entered it easily, giving each face one flash of his light. The odor of recent sex was strong, but the adults were definitely not Lanning and Collier, and the child, revealed by a fourth flash, was male. He had hesitated over waking them and putting them to the question, but that effort would undoubtedly result in the death of all three -- too much death: overkill that would draw most unwelcome attention. He shook his head. With no more evidence than the word of a whore in terminal agony, plus state-of-the-art physical security that in fact any affluent family might install in a big city, he was not justified in maintaining a stakeout, especially not in the territory of powerful enemies. He reached for the ignition key but froze as a shadow crossed his peripheral vision. His left hand flicked across his body and rotated the revolver out of its belt clip. A black man was bent to look in at the passenger window, in the dim light from the corner barely discernible except for his eyes. He wore a shiny black windbreaker on this relatively warm night, open at the throat to expose a white necktie incongruous at four thirty in the morning. Slim never deigned to lock doors unless he planned to sleep. Now the man simply snatched the passenger door open and stooped momentarily to stare, his hand on the back of the seat. Slim chuckled and said off-handedly, "If you get in this car, I'll kill you." But the fellow smiled back, white teeth shining. "If you don't get out, sir, I'll kill _you_!" Slim laughed as his finger tightened on the trigger. But suddenly his own door was snatched open behind him. Slim's well-trained reflexes were cat-like. He straightened his back, kicking against the transmission tunnel in the floor of the automobile, propelling his body violently out of the car into the chest of the person who had not stood aside as he jerked open the door. "Ooof!" Air departed violently from the man's chest. He fell backward as Slim's body rotated upon him. The side of Slim's hand struck fiercely for the man's larynx, only to smash numbingly against an unyielding shield located behind the high knot of the white necktie. Slim did not waste precious tenths of a second in surprise. The man was twisting sideways, bringing some other weapon into play. In a flash Slim sprang away from him, aiming a vicious kick at his head. But head was gone when boot arrived. That unexpected fact was one surprise too many. Slim lost his balance and fell to the right just in time to avoid a savate-like seated kick from his opponent. Slim rolled quickly away and bounced to his feet, only to find the other already up and charging him. Slim ducked and cut sideways, lashing out with the raised foot. The opponent, anticipating, was already ducking and swinging his own foot. It was his second and sufficient mistake. Slim had expected it, now that he understood the caliber of his opposition -- almost equal to his own -- and struck the extended leg with locked fists at the flex point between buttocks and thigh, interlocked knuckles flattening the Great Sciatic Nerve bundle against the pelvic bone, paralyzing the entire leg. The man spun further than he intended and fell hard on his back, not to rise for a while. Slim whirled to face the car and the original intruder, now approaching, having rounded the vehicle. Slim's revolver was gone, dropped somewhere in the flurry of violence, but apparently the other was also unarmed, though the state of his reaching hands, clenched with slightly curved fingers, matched Slim's own. Slim raised one hand, palm up, and the other stopped at the completion of his current step, crouched ready to come on, only two steps away. Slim asked, "What do you want?" "We ask the questions," the man declared, "and I'll ask you the same thing." "Vigilantes, eh?" Which meant that these gentlemen were most likely operating without Slim's advantage of training under the oriental masters. Certain advanced techniques that he had learned in diligent practice dictated a sequence of standard attack moves, which might be countered by standard defenses, that led however to relative positions, if only standard defenses were employed, in which the defender was hopelessly vulnerable. Did this tall black man know of them? Slim struck in the first move of the ballet. The other countered perfectly. Slim's follow-up was already in motion; again it was deflected in the standard manner. The combatants moved swiftly though another four assaults and defenses, all by the book, all in the space of two seconds. Exultation rose in Slim: clearly his opponent didn't know this game! Two more passes found the other's temple rushing forward to meet Slim's elbow point necessarily thrusting up. The man's head rebounded sharply. His body completed its spin only to collapse face down and lie motionless on the cold pavement. Slim would have killed both opponents at that moment if he had not seen his revolver barrel glimmering in the light from the corner. Now he might depart without leaving physical evidence. He scooped up the weapon, jumped into his stolen car and in seconds was racing down the street. He shook his head. Okay, he was confident now of the prey's residence. But guards armed with high degree martial arts? The ante in this game was getting steep. NEXT: Chapter 20: The Problem of Bobbie Varangian: ludmax11@hotmail.com Kellis: kellis@dhp.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+