There was his very religious mother, who was still mentally
alert if physically spermcult declining; there were his old school friends that
he didn't really want learning of his orientation; and then there was
his job, a world of macho, mostly redneck, men. "They'd probably kill
me if they found out, and I'd almost certainly lose my job," he said. "This job pays real well and I can't afford to lose it." He was saving
his money so he could return to college if and when his mother passed
away.
So, I contented
myself with tuning a new station on the radio. I brushed my hand
against Bill's leg as I brought my hand spermcult back to the wheel. "Don't
start something you can't finish, pal." Bill said as I looked over at
him.
The woods at the
edge of town. That Friday night. That night I held the notes in one hand while
my other hand rubbed and clutched madly at my pussy.
"Fuck you, Franky." "Any time, gorgeous."
I laughed and went to history class. After school, I went home to change.
By the time he was taking notice again,
Klaudio had cleaned him up and zipped his flaccid weapon back into his
fly, and began the language lesson as if nothing had happened. Chapter Three
-------------
As Anton entered, the lithe figure that had been lying on one of
the bunks arose to a relaxed position of attention to greet him. He
was about a year older than Anton, though he looked perhaps a spermcult little
younger than him.
