.Well, MY father had a garden variety (maybe six inch) dick! (What boy never got a glance of his father's penis, growing up?)My high school was a five...year high school, meaning the 8th grade, was Frosh, instead of the ninth grade. (Actually, both were frosh, but ninth graders called themselves "fresh" to avoid confusion.)So, here I was, playing football, one fine October Saturday morning, when this play occurs, and I got blindsided so badly, I didn't come out of my coma until Tuesday, ten days. For AKA hated blood. He had had onlyone experience along those lines, but it was enough to last a lifetime. Themess had appalled him. No, the knife was just to get control, and it wasamazing how easy that could be. People would think that an athletic youngguy like the one on the other side of the stall door would put up a fight,resist, something. But AKA knew better. A couple had run. One had even gottenaway. But nobody fought. Not once. Not even the strapping thirty-year-oldtruck driver AKA. It took a couple minutes. Nature provided what this mother would have denied. My irritated tissues took less than a minute to release small amounts of lubrication.“Heh.” He wheezed foul breath at me. “You feeling it? Your pussy wants to fuck.”I shook my head. Please no. I didn’t say it.“And I want to fuck it, Bitch.” He grabbed both of my breasts and rubbed them through my clothes. “But have you learned the lesson here?”I managed to get words out around the horrid glove. “I-I don’t know what to. Two day’s later we reached the mouth of the valley I was looking for.“So this is it,” Clara huffed dismissively as she plopped herself down on the contents of the sled that she and Gabby were pulling. “It’s about time! How much further do we have to go?”In response I pulled out the map that Kim had given me. Opening it up and spreading it out on the ground between us, I put a couple of small stones down on the surface of it.“That’s us,” I declared taking on the tone of the lecturer. “By my.
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