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Message-ID: <37177asstr$1025899805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: max_wojtylak@yahoo.com (theGreatxIam)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 5 Jul 2002 16:18:25 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Scout's Honor Ch. 9 (MFf+)
Date: Fri,  5 Jul 2002 16:10:05 -0400
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NOTE: I hereby grant permission for all archiving and other uses of
this work, public or private, free or paid, in any format whether
existing now or to be invented in the future, so long as a copy of
this note and credit to "theGreatxIam" is given and no alteration is
made to the body of the work. Copyright 2002, theGreatxIam

Scout's Honor
Chapter 9 (of 10)
By theGreatxIam

THE STORY SO FAR: A childless couple devotes themselves to a Girl
Scout troop. The wife dies in childbirth; the surviving child dies
soon after. The husband goes into a funk, relieved only when the
couple's old troop asks him to drive the bus for its last camping
trip. The trip turns into a nonstop orgy, climaxing in a frenzied
free-for-all just before the ride home. On the bus, though, an
argument breaks out.

--- --- ---

Even as the echoes of Claire's vicious retort died away, I knew it
wasn't over. Something had been cooking between her and her adopted
sister, Sami, for most of the trip. And it was boiling over.

Traci tried to put a lid on it. She swiveled around on the bus's front
seat, held up a hand and issued soothing sounds. I could have guessed
she was wasting her breath. But, then, she was used to schoolyard
battles. I had the experience to know this sounded like an adult
fight. And adults never play nice.

Interfering in a grown-up war only gets you caught in the middle. So I
wasn't surprised when Claire turned on Traci next.

"Shut up, you ... pimp. You and all the other whores -- I hate you
all!"

I looked in the rearview. Claire's eyes were firing laser beams toward
the front of the bus. She was in the aisle, legs spread, swaying with
the turns but too angry to bother putting out an arm to brace herself.

I flicked my eyes back to the road; we were getting onto the main
highway. A blur of movement drew me back to the mirror.

Screeching something I didn't understand, Sami had launched herself at
her sister. I saw hands flailing and then they dropped out of sight. I
was stuck behind the wheel. All I could do was shoot a glance at Traci
in the seat opposite. She just looked stunned.

By the time I spied a spot up ahead and hauled the bus to the side of
the road, some measure of peace had been restored. Sereka and Tishana
had Sami bottled up in a back seat. The Sues and Sri were sitting on
Claire, who still had a lot of fight in her.

We calmed her down enough to get her into a seat up front, with
several girls around her just in case. She still had fire in her eyes,
but she pressed against the metal wall and stayed there.

Quietly, I agreed with Traci to skip the fast food and drive everyone
home. I began remapping my route mentally to get Sami and Claire off
first as I put the bus back into gear and eased into traffic.

We had separated Sami and Claire, but we couldn't keep them from
shouting at each other. That's how the whole sordid story came out. It
spilled in disconnected bits and pieces, but it wasn't too tough to
figure out what it added up to.

Claire had been reluctant to join in Traci's seduction plan. Sami had
helped talk her into it. Claire insisted she had agreed to only one
sexual encounter with me.

Sami didn't remember it that way -- or, if she did, she might have
counted on Claire getting caught up in the atmosphere. When Claire
didn't -- when she withdrew completely, in fact, after her one
obligatory fuck -- Sami tried to tease her into loosening up.

That's when Claire dropped the bomb. She blurted out to Sami that
their father had molested her for several years. Only when Claire had
mustered the courage to tell her mom had it all come to an end in a
divorce so hush-hush that they didn't even tell Sami what was going
on.

Sami had refused to believe it. Refused to believe their dad could do
such things, refused to believe she wouldn't have been aware of it,
refused to believe Mom would keep it a secret.

But as Claire spat out the story, some things began to make sense. I'd
run into their father many times with Sami at a ball game or a church
fair, but never with Claire. If I thought about it at all, I had
figured it was either because of Claire's shyness or some desire to go
the extra mile with the adopted daughter to make her feel wanted. What
I didn't know was that he was taking Claire out just as often -- but
those trips were to sleazy motels or just a dark, empty parking lot
where he could push back the seat and show her "what daddies do only
with their real daughters." It was twisted in so many ways.

As the story unfolded, the girls sat in silence. When it sunk in,
though, and when Claire had wound down and Sami had lapsed into sullen
mumbling, some of them started talking.

Sophisticated Sereka and Tishana were the most shocked. For all their
world travels, they hadn't seen much of life's seamier side. They
certainly never expected to find it riding the bus with them. In fact,
they almost sided with Sami. Almost, I say -- Claire's account was too
convincing to be completely doubted by anyone outside her family.

The Sues were shocked, but they accepted Claire's story and got very
upset by it. They asked a lot of questions about why Claire or her mom
hadn't gone to the police.

"Because it's all a lie," Sami shouted from the back. But she seemed
to be losing her conviction.

Claire didn't have much of an answer. It sounded as if she just wanted
to forget about it.

Sri was the big surprise. She quietly reported that one of her uncles
had tried to come on to her the year before. Nothing happened, she
said, because her aunt came back unexpectedly. She'd never told anyone
about it, she said shyly.

By the time we reached the city limits, silence had returned. Everyone
had retreated to her own world. Most just stared out a window. Carrie
and Terry had their noses buried in books. There were several
expressions of surprise when I pulled to a halt outside Claire and
Sami's house.

With as few words as possible, the girls helped them unload. Sami
carefully kept several feet away from her sister at all times, but the
murderous look in her eye had been replaced with confusion. Claire was
retreating back into her old shell as we watched, awkwardly avoiding
the hugs offered.

I waited to make sure they got inside safely. Claire went to the door
first; Sami hung back. When it opened, their mom came out. Claire said
something we couldn't hear and raced past her into the house, banging
a knapsack against the door frame.

The last thing we saw as we drove off was their mom opening her arms
wide and Sami falling into them, tears pouring out.

Things lightened a little after that. It helped that Traci played
cruise director. At first her attempts at things like a sing-along
fell flat, but they fell so horribly flat that some girls couldn't
resist joking about it. I won't say it was a joyful bus after that,
but there were laughs.

It also helped that the mental remapping I'd done of our route was
wildly mixed up. Nothing like a bus driver who goes the wrong way down
a one-way street and almost gets stuck trying a tight turn in a narrow
alley to get people in a good mood, united in ridiculing him.

Sri was the next off the bus, spotting her house as I almost flew
past. She'd gotten in a couple of good jabs at me by then, but as we
pulled out her stuff she pushed me into my seat and sat in my lap.
"Just to show I was only teasing about your driving," she said,
leaning in for a kiss. A real kiss. Her hands held my face captive as
her tongue danced with mine.

"Thanks -- for everything," she said with a smile as she stood up.
"And I mean everything." She gave my crotch a pat, and oohed when she
felt my cock grow hard. She stroked it a few times before tearing
herself away.

I was too off-balance to do more than say "thank you" back, and she
was gone, running across the lawn to her front door.

That set the tone for the rest of the trip. 

Carrie and Terry were next. They tag-teamed me with wet kisses while
guiding my hands under their T-shirts to grope their tits.

Baby lived one block over. I didn't expect her to join in, but she had
a very passionate kiss for me. "Thank you for everything you did," she
said, looking down shyly, "and for everything you didn't do." Then she
turned to go. Just before she stepped off, though, she stopped, looked
around, spun toward me and hoisted her shirt into the air, flashing me
with her boobs. I whistled appreciatively, and she was blushing when
she pulled the shirt down and turned away.

Lana had hauled her stuff up front, and she stood beside me, guiding,
as I snaked through the side streets to her house. She offered a
genteel peck, but then she whipped the spray can from behind her back.
I ducked instinctively and a glob splatted onto the driver's-side
window, leaving a slime trail behind as it slithered down.

Lana giggled. I shot out a hand and snatched the can from her. She
tried to get away, but bags and a bedroll had her trapped. She faced
me with all the solemnity of a spy before the firing squad.

I held the can inches from her face and cackled menacingly.

Sue Two taunted her. "Ooh, someone's gonna get it!"

But I simply sprayed a line of whipped cream along both her lips. 

Lana struggled to keep a straight face when I started licking the
cream off, using only gentle pressure of the tip of my tongue. Before
long, she was moaning. As I cleaned up the last bit she sent her
tongue out to meet mine. Our mouths crushed together.

"Whoa," Sue Two called out. "Somebody's getting it!"

We broke the kiss only with regret. "I'll never forget this weekend,"
Lana said as she gathered up her belongings and left the bus. I could
see her in my rearview for blocks, standing on the lawn waving as her
mom ferried stuff into their house.

Then it was Sue Two's turn. She had an evil grin as she approached.
Quick as a cat's pounce, she flipped up her skirt, exposing her red
silk panties, and leaped onto my lap. With her legs clutching my
sides, she boldly rubbed her crotch into my aching cock as she mashed
her mouth to mine.

She wriggled and writhed, doing things to my erection that made my
nostrils flare. I swear I was ready to rip off her underwear and fuck
her right there and then.

But a shout carried into the bus. "Suzy! Is that you?"

"My mom!" Sue Two scrambled off me. "Bye! Thanks! Be well!"

I was still panting when I pulled up to Sereka and Tishana's house.
Their parents were supposed to be out all afternoon, which is, I
guess, what gave them the courage to go further than anyone else. The
two black goddesses dropped their shorts as they made me part of a
three-way kiss. That gave me the chance to slip fingers into both
their cunts.

Anyone who happened to look into the bus door would have had quite a
sight: two magnificent asses bouncing around, a hand sticking out of
each one.

I suspect they had been warming each other up in the back seats -- I
thought I'd heard some moaning back there -- because after only two or
three minutes they both had orgasms that made their knees buckle.

They were walking a bit bow-legged as they stepped into their house. I
was feeling a bit weak, myself.

Sue and Traci were the only ones left. Traci's house was closer, but
she said she'd rather ride all the way with me to drop off the bus. I
warned her it could take awhile -- the rental place was crosstown --
but she was persistent. Sue would be next, then on to the dropoff.

Sue made sure her departure was memorable. Like Sue Two, she straddled
me. But, instead of rubbing my cock through my jeans, she unzipped me,
worked her hand through the opening of my briefs and pulled my dick
into the open.

Her soft hands closed around my shaft, a feeling almost too terrific
to endure. Her hands were warm. At first she only squeezed my cock, a
pulsating rhythm like a beating heart. When I had produced enough
fluids under that encouragement, she spread it around like lotion.
Taking advantage of the lubrication, she started to stroke. Her
fingers did amazing things, pressing, releasing, sliding up and down.

All the while her hungry mouth was locked with mine. Her insistent
tongue invaded my opening. Guided by lust, my hands sought her
knockers, found them under her loose blouse. Her nipples rose beneath
the pressure of my palms.

Sue's hands were clutching my cock like a virgin's cunt, but moving on
it like the hottest whore in town. I desperately tried to heave my ass
off the cracked plastic driver's seat, attempting to fuck her hands.

By then I had tugged her blouse free of her skirt and undone all but
the top button, giving me total access to her tits. I found them so
tempting that I couldn't tear myself away to explore under her skirt,
though that was an alluring idea.

"Oh, god," I said, coming up for air, "you're driving me crazy. Where
did you learn to do that? Oh, yeah, that's incredible."

"I'm glad you like it," Sue answered, each word coming in a puff of
breath. "Ooh, you're getting even bigger. Does that mean you're gonna
come? Are you? Are you?"

"Almost," I croaked, as Sue's fingers flew faster and faster. "Almost,
I'm almost there."

"Then I'd better stop." She jumped off me so abruptly I almost bucked
off the seat. "Gotta leave something for Traci, after all."

Sue had traveled light. She gathered all her stuff in one arm and
sprang off the bus. "Better do something for him quick, Trace," she
said as she ran off. "I think I might have overexcited him."

Sue had indeed left me hanging -- or, rather, hanging out -- and so
flustered that I pulled away from the curb without rearranging myself.

That did not escape Traci's notice. I glanced over to see her slowly
licking her lips. A stirring in my lap made me realize what was up was
also out. But it was too late. I was in traffic, and maneuvering the
big bus kept both hands occupied.

Maneuvering didn't get any easier when Traci slipped out of her seat,
got on her knees next to me and lowered her face to hover over my
rigid cock.

"No," I begged, "I'm driving!"

That didn't stop her. Neither did my frantic -- but, I must admit,
none too forceful -- attempts to elbow her away.

A honk from a guy I almost T-boned drew my attention back to the road.
Meanwhile, a warm fog settled over my cock. Traci's hot breath was
almost palpable; I wasn't completely sure if she was doing me or still
just hovering above.

Then I was sure. Her tongue, swaying gentle as a fern in the wind,
brushed the tip of my dick. I reflexively stretched out my feet and
almost accelerated into a Volvo.

Traci was going a bit faster, too. Her tongue was curling and curving
around my dick. When it rode along the ultrasensitive ridge where the
shaft meets the head, I shouted so loud that the guy in the next lane
whipped his head around to stare at me.

I had to grit my teeth and clench the wheel as if it were the last
handhold between me and a 5,000-foot drop. Even so, I couldn't keep my
eyes from squeezing shut now and again.

Traci's lips closed around my tool and skidded halfway down the shaft.
She held me there, her tongue continuing its lewd dance. I could feel
her hair sweeping over my crotch. I was so captivated that I have no
idea how long I sat at a green light before the blaring horns behind
me cut through the haze; all I know is that I saw the traffic light
turn yellow in my rearview just after I cleared the intersection.

By then, Traci was bobbing up and down on my pole, slurping noises
magnifying the awesome feeling. I could see her head popping in and
out of my field of view as the bus jerkily went on its way.

Keeping her pace steady -- which is more than I can say for my
steering -- Traci brought me closer and closer. I tried to speed her
up, humping off the seat, but she would only slide up and off until I
settled down and let her call the tune.

Somehow she knew exactly when to slow down to keep me on the razor's
edge. And she understood what she was doing to me. At the peak of one
of my surges, when I was sure only a few more strokes would do it, she
let me slip completely out of her mouth. I looked down to see her face
upturned. As she brushed the hair from her grey eyes, a huge and
slightly devilish grin reached from ear to ear.

Only when my breathing returned to normal did Traci return to my cock.
Again she started at the very top, tonguing the tip, before putting
her lips to it. Her lips formed as tight a seal as before, but she
added something, gently using her jaw and tongue to hold me close deep
into her mouth.

I could no longer see straight. I could only try to aim between the
buildings and hope no other vehicle was foolish enough to get in the
bus's way.

Traci was sinking further and further down my cock. It wouldn't quite
fit in all the way, but I wasn't complaining. She alternated between
deep-throating and just holding the head in her mouth and sucking so
hard her cheeks disappeared. Either way, it was paradise.

Somehow I made the last turn before the rental place, though I can't
guarantee that all the bus's wheels were on the ground when I did.

"Almost there," I squeezed out. Traci took the hint and started moving
faster. Her mane flew about her as she fucked me with her mouth.

"Don't stop," I begged. "Don't stop. I'm almost ... Almost ...
Gaaaaaaawd!"

The bus leaped forward, startling a little old lady who had been about
to cross the street. We flew past her as my cum flew into Traci's
mouth, blast after blast.

Shaky, I managed the last couple of blocks as she softly milked me
dry, tucked away my shrinking cock and zipped me up. By the time I
pulled into the lot, Traci was back in her seat, looking quite demure
except for the bright red imprints of the rubber flooring's tread that
were pressed into her knees.

Considering that condition, I didn't argue when Traci said I should
handle the paperwork of the rental and let her take care of
transferring her luggage. I uneasily mumbled replies to the clerk's
genial questions about how the weekend went and wrapped up that end as
quickly as possible.

I was surprised, though, to find Traci still shuttling stuff to my car
when I got to it. The trunk was full and she was stowing bags in the
back seat.

The clerk had come out of his shack to check the bus and was giving us
a strange look, so I kept my mouth shut for the moment and just piled
Traci and her baggage into my Camry.

It was only when we were out of the lot that I felt safe. "So," I
said, "what's with all the stuff? Looks like you brought every piece
of clothing you own."

"Just the best clothes," she said.

I looked over at her. She wasn't laughing.

"I didn't want to be too much of a burden," Traci went on. "I've got
enough clothes to last a long time. I don't need new stuff. And I've
been stocking up on makeup and ... uh, other essentials. So you don't
have to worry about that."

I had a sinking feeling I knew the answer to my next question. "What
do you mean, I won't have to worry? What's it got to do with me?"

"I'm moving in with you, of course."

The argument that followed wasn't much more sophisticated than a
schoolyard did-so-did-not duel. I pointed to her youth; she noted I
hadn't minded that much in bed. While still bleeding from that
riposte, I noted that the law frowned on such liaisons, and living
together would be harder to hide than a romp in the woods. Traci had
the solution: Move to someplace where no one knew her age. My job? I
didn't like it anyway, she said.

It went on like that. The intellectual high point may have come when I
pointed out that her parents would notice her absence. They wouldn't
care, she said. Would too, I replied. "You don't know them," Traci
argued. "I know you," I said, "and you aren't that cavalier about your
family."

"Am too," she said.

Well, there you go. We were one "I'm rubber and you're glue" away from
a presidential debate.

We went round and round these arguments so much that we ended up just
spitting shorthand at each other "Age." "Sex." "Law." "Move."

"Maturity," I said.

"That's age," Traci answered. "We just did that."

"No. Not years. Maturity."

"I'm mature," she said. "Look what I did this weekend."

"Sexuality isn't maturity."

"Not that! I mean, look at what I accomplished. I put it all
together!"

"Just my point," I said quietly. "This weekend proved that at least
one of us isn't mature."

Trying to use subtlety on a 17-year-old is like hunting lions with a
rubber band. You'll never bring them down, but you could annoy them
mightily.

Traci punched me in the arm -- the child in her. But then she twisted
up her face and put her back against the door. "You think I'm
immature?"

"At least one of us, I said."

"Huh?"

"What about what you did to Baby?"

"Not that again. I told you, she was ready. I don't know what you said
to her."

"You're not going to give me all the blame for Claire, are you?"

"Claire?" Traci was indignant. "Nobody knew what she ... What was
going on. It's her fault."

"Her fault? Her fault her father molested her?"

"No!" Traci slapped the dashboard. "Don't put words in my mouth! It
was her fault she didn't tell us. We wouldn't have made her come if we
knew."

I pounced. "So you admit you made her?"

Traci turned her head away and kept quiet for a whole minute. When she
talked again, she was quieter and calmer. "We didn't twist anyone's
arm. Claire could have said no. She did say no at the camp, and nobody
forced her. What were we supposed to do, give everyone a quiz before
we brought them along? You didn't ask too many questions, did you?"

"No," I said. "That's why I said 'at least' one of us. You're
absolutely right. I didn't ask questions. And I should have. I was the
adult."

Traci looked disgusted. "It's easy to say that now. First you do all
of us, then you say you're sorry?"

The kid in her was gone, and she was making some very adult points. I
had to answer seriously.

"I don't regret all of it," I said. "Maybe I should. Maybe I'm just
kidding myself when I think that the old rules about ages don't apply
these days, when a 16-year-old is a lot more experienced. But I don't
feel sorry for most of what I did."

"Then why ..."

I cut her off. "I didn't say I was proud of it, either. I gave in to
my urges. I let myself believe nothing could be wrong."

"So if some of it was OK, how about what you and I did? Or am I too
immature to decide who and when I want to screw?"

I didn't answer, just stared straight ahead. I didn't even want to
think about it. I was afraid of what my answer might be.

Traci fidgeted and fussed while I remained silent. Finally she burst
out. "So you don't think screwing me was right? Gee, kinda late to
decide that, isn't it? Good thing you didn't figure it out earlier or
you wouldn't have gotten your rocks off just now. Or are blowjobs OK?"

I didn't even trust myself to look at her. But I could feel her eyes
burning holes in me.

When she spoke next, her voice was softer, faltering. "Is that really
why you won't take me in? Or is it ... is it just that you don't want
me the way I want you? I know I'm just a kid, but I thought ... Maybe
... I guess you don't l-love me."

My eyes flicked to her. Before I could stop myself, the words came
out. "No, I ..."

Traci burst into tears. "I should have known! I'm so stupid! I'm
sorry."

She hadn't understood. But maybe that was best. I swallowed what I was
going to say and pulled to the curb in front of Traci's house. She got
out and hauled out her bags in silence, not looking at me even when I
handed her the bags from the trunk.

I drove away, away from Traci and away from that part of my life. That
weekend did end my depression. It made me re-examine my life and make
a lot of changes. It made me re-enter the dating scene, though not
with any great success.

But it also ended my relationships with the troop. Most of the girls
called or wrote, some even came by the house, but -- very politely --
I asked them to stop. Only Lana kept in touch, writing me a few times
a year even though I never wrote back.

It was through her letters that I knew Sami eventually accepted the
truth of Claire's molestation, though the sisters never were as close
as before. I heard about Sue Two giving up cheerleading in college,
while Sue led the squad. About Baby -- Michelle -- becoming prom
queen, and Sereka getting married.

But I never read about Traci in those letters, and of course I didn't
ask. I thought about her, more than was good for me, though.

Then, about seven years after that camping trip, I got a letter in a
small, square envelope.

To be continued ...

Previous chapters may be found at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/theGreatxIam/
And please watch for the final chapter, to be posted next week here
and on the Web at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/theGreatxIam/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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