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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 34. Chapter 34

February 26, 1963

 

I hadn't slept all night. I left Jason a note that said I wasn't feeling well and I wouldn't be going to campus today. I had Andre's letters spread out all over my bed and began to rebuild his private life in as much detail as possible.

 

Still, the first letter I read last night was the worst. There were several like it, stretching back for over a year. None had a signature, but the handwriting was unmistakable. The handwriting belonged to my mother.

 

It seems that at some point along the way she'd ceased to be a surrogate mother to Andre, and they'd taken the opportunity on our visits back to Claremont to fuck. And on the few occasions when my parents had come to visit Princeton, they'd found a chance to shack up there as well. It seems the last encounter between them had been over Spring Break, on the day I'd gone to Columbus with my father. I remembered their flushed faces at dinner and how I thought it was because they'd been riding. What bullshit that was.

 

I tried to be mad at Andre, but I couldn't. I loved him too much. What's more, as soon as he and I became an item he obviously broke it off with my mother. Still, he had cuckolded my father, so I should be pissed about that, but with the way I felt about my father lately, it just made me smile. Then there was my mother. What a slut she was. First I find out I'm a bastard because she fucked Bill Hendrickson, then I find out that she fucked my boyfriend too. Who else had she done? I wondered which one of us had been with more men, and that thought made me actually chuckle to myself.

 

No wonder she'd acted so strangely when Andre had been killed. No wonder she had been so shocked by my admission that we were lovers. That must have quite a blow, to think that she'd been dumped in favor of her son.

 

I was frustrated by the flow of emotions. I wanted to be mad at Andre but I couldn't because, well, because he was dead and gone and I knew, deep down, I didn't want to soil his memory, and our memories. I wanted to be mad at my mother, and I was, but the fact that she had fucked over my father was also rather pleasant. I roiled it over and over in my mind, and every path I took seemed to take me back into the same conundrum. It was too confusing and too painful.

 

Then my mind wandered to Jeff! Oh my god! What if she decided to fuck him? We didn't have a monogamous arrangement, so technically we were free to screw whoever we wanted. Would he fuck my mother? If she came on to him earnestly? Probably not. But what if she did? And what if he succumbed? Would I be able to forgive him? Probably not. At least with Andre, as soon as we were together he cut it off with her. That much was apparent from her letters, practically begging him to come back to Claremont on leave. No wonder he'd chosen to just stay here with me in Chicago. That thought made me smile. But Jeff and I were an item now. If he fucked her, it would technically be OK, but on the moral scale, it would be a massive transgression.

 

I shifted my thoughts back to Andre. I had beat out my own mother, vagina and all, for his love. What a twisted way to think. Still, there was some small satisfaction in it nonetheless.

 

Back to Jeff. I could either warn him, or let him handle it himself. If I didn't warn him, I might be setting him up for a fall. He was 18 and I knew how his hormones raged. That thought made me smile. Hell, I'm 27 and I can't manage to keep strange dicks out of my mouth. If I did warn him, he'd know about my mother, and it would make living around her more difficult. What if the knowledge that she was easy made him want to fuck her? I chided myself. Jeff was better than that. But if I was him, wouldn't I want to know?

 

I looked at the other letters. One was to me, a brief letter he started and must have planned to send next time he could find another “Fritz” to carry it.

 

 

Dear JP,

 

God it sucks here. Things are miserable. These poor people are being uprooted and relocated, and it makes them hate their government and, by extension, hate us as well. The Viet Cong couldn't have asked for an easier task, integrating and co-opting these peasants.

 

The only thing that keeps me going is looking forward to being with you again. It's so much more than just the sex JP. You are part of me, and when I'm with you, I feel whole. When I'm away, I am only half a man.

 

Then it ended. Apparently he planned to write more later, but didn't have a chance. I allowed myself to cry, really cry yet again for Andre. What a tragedy his death was. I finally grappled with my feelings, curbed them, and moved onto the next letter, which had yet another bombshell. This one was in French.

 

Dear Andre,

 

I am so sorry for what my father and brothers did to you. I tried to stop them, but what could I, a mere woman, do against their force? My heart bleeds when I think of the pain I caused you. Our time together was magical, more so than you probably know.

 

After you left, I discovered that our liaison had borne fruit, and that I am pregnant. I am so frightened, I don't know what to do. When my parents find out they will probably marry me off quickly to some village yokel. I guess my dream would be to have you come sweep me off my feet and take me away from here. The only other option is to go to a local lady I know and get an abortion. Then, of course, I would be damned to hell forever.

 

Please help me. Even if you can't rescue me, at least talk to me, counsel me. I feel so alone and so afraid.

 

Isidore.

 

Holy shit. So Andre had knocked up Isidore when we were in Paris. That was back in June. She'd be close to giving birth now, if she kept the baby. There was an address on the envelope. The postmark was hard to read, but it looked like it was dated sometime in August. I wonder what Andre had said to her? I wonder what she had done?

 

It was so much, too much, to process. Andre was a daddy. Maybe. If so, the money he left me should be used for the child. But what if Isidore had married? Would her new husband be aware that the child was not his? Would he mistreat the poor baby? And my mother was still a slut, and Jeff was a potential victim to her perverted drives. And Andre had loved me so very much. I cried myself to sleep, not knowing what to do, and not having any clear idea on how to proceed.

 

I woke up around 4pm, and headed to the phone. I called home. No, that's not right. This is home. I called Claremont. Vella answered.

 

“Hi Vella, it's JP. How are you?” I feigned happiness.

 

“JP, it's good to hear from you. I'm fine. Now did you call to talk to me?”

 

“No Vella, that's just an added bonus.” I heard her chuckle. “Actually I called to talk to Jeff. Is he around?”

 

“Hang on, I'll go find him.” She didn't sound very enthusiastic. I wonder if she suspected we were a couple. Oh well, I couldn't think about that now. I had more than enough on my plate.

 

“Hello?” I heard Jeff say. Vella hadn't told him that it was me, obviously.

 

“Hey Jeff, it's JP.”

 

“Hey JP!” he said excitedly. It made me happy to hear him sound so happy to hear from me. “What's up?”

 

“I was wondering if you had any plans for the weekend.”

 

“Nothing I can't break. Why?”

 

“I want you to meet me somewhere. I need to talk to you.”

 

I heard him pause. “Is there something wrong? Did I do something?” I realized that I was freaking him out.

 

“Jeff, I'm sorry. There's something wrong, but it doesn't have to do with you and me. I just really need to be with you, to talk to you. I don't want to mess up your schedule or anything though.” I could feel his relief.

 

“Sure JP. That sounds great.” I could tell that he was worried about listening ears.

 

“Why don't you meet me in Columbus on Friday night? Will that work?”

 

“Sure. Where?”

 

I gave him the name of the hotel near the capital, and told him that I'd meet him in the lobby at 7PM.

 

After we hung up, I had an attack of nerves. How much should I share with him? He was only 18. Could I dump all of this on him? Should I? And if we were going to be partners, shouldn't he know it all? Were we going to be partners?

 

I went back to my room, put all the letters away carefully in the case, and slid it into my nightstand. Then I curled up, not quite in the fetal position, but almost, and slept until the next morning.

March 1, 1963

 

I sat in the lobby of the hotel, room keys in hand, waiting for Jeff. I was early, which wasn't surprising. With the winter weather and drive times as a big variable, I planned it that way. It was 6:30PM so I had half an hour to spare. I sat down and picked up one of the books I'd brought with me. I was engrossed in it when I realized there was someone standing in front of me, staring at me. I looked up and was surprised to see it was my father.

 

“JP. I didn't expect to see you here. What brings you to town?” Same cold, formal demeanor. I so desperately wanted to tell him I was here to blow the governor.

 

“Hi Dad,” I said, not getting up. “I'm meeting a friend.”

 

“Oh really? Who?”

 

“That's really none of your business,” I said coldly, and saw the words hit him like a fist. He recovered quickly.

 

“Are you coming home this weekend?”

 

“No. I'm only going to be here for a bit, and then I'm heading home to Chicago.” He caught the reference to where home was, but didn't seem to care.

 

“Ah, well, I'll tell your mother you said hello,” he said. He stood there waiting, as if he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just turned and walked away. I made sure he left so he wouldn't see Jeff. Fortunately, Jeff was a little late, so we dodged that bullet.

 

He came up and gave me a masculine hug. “Good to see you JP.”

       

“Good to see you too Jeff. Come on, I've got a room.”

 

“You think I'm that easy?” he joked.

 

“Yep,” I said. He just nodded and followed me.

 

Once in the room he pulled me to him and held me tight. I felt tears running down my face, and I got so pissed at myself for being so emotional. But then, I'd already acknowledged that Jeff was through my defenses, so why try to fight it? He leaned down and kissed me gently, and suddenly the need to be with him, to couple with him, was overwhelming.

 

As usual, he sensed my need, and we both took off our clothes and threw them around the room. Doing that made it seem almost funny, and we laughed as pants landed on the television, a shirt flew onto the lamp, etc. Then he was on top of me, our bodies grinding together. His huge strong body almost crushed me and I loved the feeling of being under him, of being so dominated by this huge muscle of a man. I lifted my legs up to give him access to my ass and he entered me gently, making love to me slowly.

 

“God JP, I missed you so much. It feels so good to be inside of you again. I live for this. I live to be with you, to feel you wrapped around me, to wrap myself around you.” He cooed these sentences into my ear as he fucked me, driving me crazy like he always did. He picked up his pace and shot his load inside me. I smiled. He must have been saving up. Then he did that thing I love so much. He slid off of me and sucked me while he probed my hole with his finger. In no time at all I shot my load down his throat. He didn't miss a drop.

 

Then came the best part, the afterglow, when he moved up and lay on top of me snuggling up. His heavy body was splayed across mine, pinning me, and making me feel protected and secure. I played with his hair. Then he moved up so that he was still lying on top of me, but his head was next to mine his mouth right by my ear.

 

“Tell me what's bothering you baby. I want to help if I can.”

 

“Jeff, I know I can trust you, but I need to tell you about some things that can't go anywhere. Even if you end up hating me, I have to have your word that it stays between us.” I could tell that I had offended him.

 

“I thought you knew you could trust me,” he said, irritated.

 

“Baby, I do, completely. But this stuff is pretty big, so I need you to understand that, OK?” He seemed to get the gravity of the situation.

 

“You have my word.” And that was enough for me. He was like a Medieval Knight, and his word was his bond.

 

“Fritz came to see Jason and I last weekend. He stepped on a land mine and got his leg blown off, as well as his balls and half his dick.”

 

“God, that's horrible.” he said and held me tighter.

 

“He brought me a packet with Andre's letters, all the correspondence he'd saved.” I felt Jeff tense up at the mention of Andre. I stroked his back. “I love YOU,” I said firmly, and that got me a smile.

 

“There were letters in there from Andre's lovers. Seems that one of his lovers was my mother.” Jeff backed up and looked at me, a stunned expression on his face. I could see his mind shift gears when he realized what this must have done to me.

 

“How could he do that to you?” he asked angrily.

 

“Well, after we got together, he broke it off with her.” He calmed down. How could I ask him if she ever hit on him? I couldn't. “So now that you know my mother is a total slut, don't go hitting on her,” I joked.

 

“Andre picked you over her, and so would I, any day of the week.” I hugged him. He made me feel so much better. It was like he could heal me.

 

“Thanks. And there's more.”

 

“More? What, was he fucking your dad too?” That made me laugh.

 

“No, when we were in France he hooked up with a lady named Isidore. There was a letter to him from her telling him that she was pregnant with his child. She mentioned that she might get married, or that she might have an abortion. She wanted him to come and whisk her away, but that wasn't happening.”

 

“Wow. No wonder you wanted to see me. That's a lot of shit to dump on one guy, even a strong guy like you.” That got him a smile.

 

“Thanks Jeff. So spring break is coming up. Got any plans?”

 

“Some of the guys are talking about going to Florida, but I'm not into that. I kind of thought I'd come to Chicago, if that's OK with you.”

 

“You don't have to ask. My house is your house. But I don't want to stay in Chicago. I want to go to France. And I want you to go with me.”

 

He looked at me, really stunned. “I don't know JP. That's gonna be expensive. And don't I need something to go there, a passport or visa?”

 

“Money is not a problem. I'm buying tickets and taking us there. You'll need a passport, and you'll have to start working on that ASAP.”

 

“It sounds like fun, but I don't like taking your money.” he said stubbornly.

 

“Jeff, the only thing in my life that I don't have to worry about is money, OK? I need to meet with Isidore, and I don't want to do it alone. The last time we were there her father and brothers beat the shit out of Andre.”

 

“Wow. Okay, I'll go. I'll work on getting my passport on Monday. I never thought I'd actually be going to France. That's pretty exciting.” It was funny to see him get excited about going overseas, but then remembering that he should be somber because of the reason why.

 

“We'll deal with Isidore, but the rest of the time we'll have a blast. Just don't tell Stefan or he'll want to go too.” He laughed at that.

 

“What, no threesome?” I rolled my eyes at him. He was such a slut.

 

“I want you all to myself.” And we made love again, and it was just as awesome as the first time.

 

March 3, 1963

 

We spent the next two days in bed, eating room service and having sex. What a smart idea it was to come here and see him. It was so much easier to deal with my problems with him there to lean on. It dawned on me that I'd been a loner all my life, and I didn't like it. I liked having a partner, I needed a partner. Without one, I was like a boat adrift at sea.

 

This morning it had been the same thing. Room service breakfast, then passionate sex. I could get used to that. I wasn't really ready for the next challenge he threw at me, though.

 

“JP, you said you have money of your own, and I know I should just take that at face value. I mean, it's your money, and I have no right to pry. You always respect my privacy, so I feel guilty trying to invade yours. But it makes me uncomfortable when you offer to pay for things. I mean, can you really afford it?” So here I was at the abyss. How much could I tell him? How much should I tell him? I so wanted to unburden my soul. I so wanted that. But could I? Could I trust him with information that could ruin my family?

 

I decided to joke about it. “So you want to know if it's worth marrying me for my money?” He wasn't amused.

 

“I'm serious. Don't treat me like a little kid.”

 

I felt like shit. “I'm sorry Jeff. I've got between $400 and $500,000, not counting the condo and my stock in Crampton Construction.” He looked stunned. It really was a lot of money. “So is that a big enough dowry?”

 

Now he laughed. “Yeah, that will work. I'm sorry to pry, it's not my place, but if it was like $1000 I would have felt really bad letting you pay for my trip to France.”

 

“It's OK. I love you, and I want to be with you, and you should know what I'm bringing to the party. It's no big deal.” I paused before I continue. “I want us to be a couple. To be monogamous. To live together.”

 

“I want that too baby. I want that more than anything,” he said.

 

“When we get there, when we're together like that, then I'll tell you how I got all that money. OK?”

 

“OK. More stories to look forward to.” You have no idea, I thought.

 

March 21, 1963

 

I sat in my office reading the paper. Bobby Kennedy had ordered that Alcatraz prison be closed. Alcatraz had always loomed large as the ultimate worse place to be sent, so it seemed weird that it was closing. But apparently it just cost too much to run. I was just about ready to leave when there was a knock at my door.

 

I got up and opened it to find Ted Bailey there. He'd stopped by twice since our initial encounter, both times shyly coming in, just like today. We both knew why he was there, and he seemed to get the fact that I wanted to blow him as much as he wanted to be blown.

 

“Hey Ted,” I said, motioning him in as I locked the door. “Nice to see you.”

 

“I didn't know if you were busy, or if now was a good time to stop by,” he said, still shy.

 

I walked up and rubbed his hardening crotch. “It's always a good time to see you,” I said, pulling down his zipper.

 

“Thanks. You make me feel so good. No one has ever blown me like you.” His pants were down and his cock was out. He sat on the couch and pulled his pants completely off, allowing him to spread his legs. I liked that. I liked to smell him, to nuzzle against his perineum.

 

I went down on him with vigor, and really had him going. Then I stopped and moved down to his balls and licked them, which he really liked. Then I moved lower, licking and nudging his perineum. He really liked that too. I decided to expose him to something new. I moved my mouth down to his pucker and ran my tongue around his tight little hole.

 

“Mmmmm,” he moaned. He really really liked that. A lot. I started working his ass with my tongue, really lubing him up, really getting him going. His cock was leaking precum like a garden hose.

 

“Ted, do you trust me?” He looked nervous.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he said.

 

“I want to show you something that will blow your mind, but to do it I'll have to stick this finger in your ass,” I said, holding up my index finger.

 

“I don't know,” he said nervously.

 

“If you relax, you'll love it. If it hurts, I'll stop. OK?”

 

“OK,” he said reluctantly. I sucked on my finger to make sure it was really lubed up, and then I took his tool in my mouth while I pushed gently on his hole. He was tight and resisting me, but as I got him more and more excited, he loosened up. Finally I was able to squeeze my finger past his ring, where I stopped to let him get use to it.

 

“Feels uncomfortable,” he said.

 

“Just relax and trust me,” I told him. Amazingly, he did, and I pushed forward, probing for his spot.

 

I went back to work on his cock and I could tell that he was skeptical about my ability to deliver on my promise of extra bliss. But then I found that soft skin button and gently played with it. I felt an electric shock fly through his body, and his ass opened up around my finger. I played with a greater purpose; taking my mouth off his cock and watching him squirm in ecstasy as I fingered him with a purpose.

 

“Oh damn, feels amazing. Damn. Damn. Gonna cum. Gonna cum,” he stuttered incoherently, and I took his cock back in my mouth and let him explode. He shot massive loads, but this was the biggest by any standard. He came and came, twitching his body against my finger, totally letting go to the pleasure I was giving him. It was fucking hot as hell.

 

When we were done, he lay there, unable to move. I just smiled at him. Gradually, he got his senses back and pulled on his pants.

 

“That was incredible,” he said. “I can't believe it. I've never cum like that before. Never.”

 

“Does this mean I'll see you again,” I asked coyly.

 

“Bet on it,” he said, and I watched him leave. He sure had a cute ass.

 

I got home in a good mood. Ted Bailey was hot, real hot. Blowing him was a lot of fun because he really enjoyed it. And helping him explore his body, to find new switches to really get him going, was just the end. I was glad I didn't have that monogamous agreement with Jeff.

 

I heard noises from Jason's room so I wandered down to his door. I heard the smack of his belt, and I thought he must have Ronnie back. Then I heard a scream, but it was a different voice. I gently pushed the bedroom door open and wandered over to the bathroom.

 

There, strung up by the cuffs, was Willie Jackson. Willie was just the opposite of Ronnie. Ronnie was fat and round. Willie was tall and thin. Ronnie had brown hair, Willie had reddish brown hair. Ronnie was hairy, Willie wasn't. And Ronnie was ugly, while Willie was cute.

 

Jason was standing there with his belt, ready to lay into Willie again, while Ronnie stood to the side, stroking himself as he watched Willie get whipped. I walked in and interrupted Jason.

 

“What's going on here?” I asked.

 

Jason leered at me. “Me and Ronnie were going to teach Willie some manners.” I looked at Willie, got in front of him. Unlike Ronnie, he wasn't enjoying this. He was limp. I looked up at him and he had fear in his eyes.

 

“Do you want to be here?” I asked him.

 

“Fuck no. These bastards dragged me here to hang out, next thing I know Ronnie, that fucker, grabs me and locks me up.”

 

I looked at Jason, who looked very subdued, and Ronnie, who didn't care; he just had lust in his eyes. “Let him go,” I said to Jason.

 

“No way,” said Ronnie, defiantly.

 

“Let him go,” I said to Jason, “and then string this one up and teach him some manners.” Ronnie's eyes glazed. That's what he wanted anyway.

 

Jason let Willie go and I took him by the hand and led him back to my room. “You OK?” I asked him.

 

“I don't know. They only hit me once and I can take that.”

 

“Lie down on the bed and roll over,” I said. He did as he was told. There in front of me was his cute little ass with a welt over it. I gently rubbed it, and then put some lotion on it. I felt him relax as I did. I couldn't help myself, though; I was still horny from Ted. As I was rubbing in the lotion I allowed my hand to brush down his crack, grazing his hole. I sat there for about ten minutes, rubbing the lotion in, pretending to accidentally run down his crack. When I went to get more lotion, I noticed that he spread his legs wider to give me access.

 

I kept spreading the lotion, getting bolder with my forays into his crack, until I was rubbing my finger up and down over his hole. He arched his ass up to meet my strokes. Then I played with his hole directly. That was the point where I definitely made the switch from compassionate caregiver to crazed horny guy.

 

I pressed my finger into his ass and he froze, tensing his ring. I pulled back and stroked his crack, then went back again. After a number of times, I finally got past his ring. I got lucky and found his spot right away and he humped back into my finger.

 

“Ever been fucked Willie?” I asked.

 

“Nope. But this feels good.” he said.

 

“Good. They were going to fuck you, you know,” I said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

I pushed two fingers in his ass. “Did you want them too?” I asked.

 

“Not like that,” he said.

 

I pushed in three fingers. “Can I fuck you Willie?”

 

“I don't know,” he said.

 

“I think you'll like it, and then if you deal with them, you'll be able to handle it better,” I said, pouring on the charm and bullshit. God I wanted to fuck his tight little ass.

 

“I guess,” he said and I moved quickly before he changed his mind. I dropped my pants and kneeled behind him, lubing up my cock and lining it up with his hole. I pushed in but met resistance.

 

“Ahhhh. It hurts,” he whined.

 

“You have to relax,” I said, and I tickled his sides. He started giggling and squirming, and I felt his hole relax. Before he knew it, I had thrust in. I started pumping gently, making sure I nailed his prostate. Didn't take him long to get into it.

 

I lay on his back while I fucked him and nuzzled into his neck, talking to him huskily. “You like that don't you Willie. Feels fucking awesome doesn't it?”

 

“Yeah,” he whimpered.

 

“You wanted Ronnie to do this didn't you?” He didn't answer me so I stopped. He tried to push against me but I wouldn't let him.

 

“Tell me and I'll fuck you,” I said.

 

“Yeah, want Ronnie to fuck me,” he said and I continued. I turned him over and saw his nice cock, a big one. An eight incher but not too fat. I reached down and stroked it as I fucked him.

 

“Feel good?” I asked him. He nodded. I pulled out and greased up his pole, then I mounted him. I felt his long pole slide up my ass. God it felt good.

 

“How's that Willie?” I asked.

 

“Good. That's good too.” He began thrusting into me, thrusting hard, while I stroked my cock frenetically. I came first, spraying my load all over him. And a big load it was, all pent up from Ted. I thought that would gross him out but it just seemed to excite him more, and in no time at all he blasted up my ass.

 

I got up and grabbed a towel and wiped him down. “Thanks for saving me and for, uh, the great time,” he said with a smile. He was one of those guys who was a dick when he was around his friend, Ronnie, but if you got him alone he was great.

 

“My pleasure,” I said with a smile. “Look Willie, you need to know some things about Ronnie. He is one fucked up man.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, he was abused as a kid, so he views sex as a power thing. He doesn't make love, he fucks. He likes to be tied up, and he likes to be abused and fucked hard. Quite frankly, he's a crappy lover.” He digested this.

 

I leaned over and kissed his lips, shocking the shit out of him. He was only shocked briefly though, because he responded. “You, on the other hand, are a nice guy, and a great lover. You're a lot of fun.” That got me a smile as I boosted his ego.

 

“Really? You think so?” he asked.

 

“I know so. I'm thinking maybe you can stop by once in awhile and fuck me.” His eyes lit up.

 

“That would be cool,” he said.

 

“You wanna go see Ronnie?” I asked. “He's probably ready for you to spear him if you want.”

 

“Yeah, let's go see that sonuvabitch,” he said, and we went back to Jason's room. We walked into the bathroom to find Jason fucking Ronnie hard with his massive dick. It amazed me how violently Jason pounded him, and how turned on Ronnie got by it. I walked up behind Jason and smacked him on the ass with my hand, and strangely enough, that sent him over the edge. He blasted his load inside Ronnie's ass, with Ronnie twisting and moaning like a little girl. Then he pulled out and Willie stepped up, hard again.

 

“My turn now asshole,” Willie said to Ronnie. Ronnie turned around to look at him and Willie kissed him roughly, and then drove his eight inches up Ronnie's ass. I looked at Ronnie's cock and it was twitching. He was so keyed up, so excited, that he would blow at any moment. I looked down and noticed that I was hard as a rock again too, so I moved up behind Willie.

 

I rubbed his ass gently and then pushed my cock up to his hole. As he pulled out of Ronnie his ass drove onto my dick, which made him pause, but he gamely went on. Soon we had him in a sandwich, where Willie was fucking Ronnie and getting fucked by me at the same time. I stood still and let him do all the work, deciding where he wanted the stimulation to be. I reached around and played with Willie's chest and his nipples. I felt him twitching in my hands, and around my cock, and then he blew his wad, shot it straight into Ronnie's ass where it mixed with Jason's load.

 

He pulled out of Ronnie and away from me, and I moved forward to finish up inside Ronnie. I drove into him hard, feeling the squishiness of the other two guys’ loads as I plunged in and out. I felt myself getting close so I reached around and stroked his cock. Immediately he blew his load all over the wall, while I shot mine into his ass to mix in with the deposits left by Jason and Willie. I grabbed a towel, wiped off, and left them to their own devices.

 

Jason came out a while later, looking very subdued, knowing that I was pissed. “Jason, no one comes here unless it's of their own free will. Got it? And you can use your torture chamber for Ronnie or anyone else you meet, but not our students. We clear?”

 

“Yeah JP. I got it.”

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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If he fucked her, it would technically be OK, but on the moral scale, it would be a massive transgression.

The what scale? The guy who stopped a rape only to finger fuck the victim wants to discuss a moral scale?

These poor people are being uprooted and relocated, and it makes them hate their government and, by extension, hate us as well. The Viet Cong couldn't have asked for an easier task, integrating and co-opting these peasants

Well it makes all the sense in the world when you realize that the man in charge of the South Vietnamese SHP, Colonel Phạm Ngọc Thao, was a commie double agent and he deliberately designed the program to precisely make the peasants hate the RVN.

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