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From: max_wojtylak@yahoo.com (theGreatxIam)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 10 Jul 2002 23:56:56 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Scout's Honor Ch. 10 (final) (MF)
Date: Thu, 11 Jul 2002 05:10:02 -0400
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Note: The complete Scout's Honor is available at 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/theGreatxIam/www
and
http://www.storiesonline.net
along with other stories by the same author.

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 10 (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 an orgy that re-energizes him. But
conflicting emotions push him to cut off contact until, seven years
later, a small, square envelope arrives.

--- --- ---

The small, square card arrived on a rainy Saturday. I had taken a
break from the detail work on a watercolor of the Golden Gate Bridge,
based on a sketch I'd done the previous summer. Sitting down with a
cup of coffee to sort the mail, I flicked the envelope into a pile of
advertising circulars and other junk, based on its shape alone.

Something made me look twice. I saw that my name was handwritten. Then
I recognized the return address. It had been long enough for the hurt
to fade, and I was curious. I tore it open.

I sighed hard enough to make the tissue-paper insert float off my lap.

Seeing Traci's address, I had expected a wedding invitation. That
would have sailed right into the trash.

But, instead, the engraved printing said she was graduating from a
local college. I did the math: Seven years. Something had delayed her.
There was no other note, just a ticket to the commencement in four
weeks.

I aimed for the wastebasket. Then I pulled back and stuck the ticket
on top of a stack of magazines next to my chair.

In a week, it was buried under more magazines and mail.

In two weeks, it was clamped to the fridge by a magnet shaped like a
cheeseburger.

Near the end of the third week, I noticed it when I went for a beer. I
grabbed the ticket and, beer in hand, went down to the basement. I
found what I was looking for in the fifth box: a stack of old
snapshots, Jean and the scouts. I sat on the cold concrete floor and
sifted through them. I cried. Then I tossed the ticket on top of the
photos and put them all back in the box.

A week later, I was up early on that Saturday morning, pretending the
morning light was the sunrise at Point Reyes as I detailed the
feathers on a gull. Halfway through the fletching, I put my brushes
and paints away. I sighed. It was the weekend every year that I had a
special pain in my heart about what I was missing. Maybe I could use
an excuse to get out and do  something.

I had forgotten which box I chucked the ticket into. That took awhile,
so I was a couple minutes late for the ceremony. The school gave each
graduate 12 tickets. I found myself in a row with Traci's parents, her
two older sisters, three rambunctious kids, and four former scouts --
Michelle, Sri, Terry and Carrie.

I waved to her parents, but there wasn't time to say hello. I wasn't
sure if they even recognized me. The music had started and the
graduates were marching into the auditorium. The scouts shifted seats
to put me in the middle of them, on one end of the row.

Despite frantic whispers back and forth, we couldn't pick Traci out of
the cap-and-gowned mass. When they filed past us to their seats, it
was pointless to try to spot her from behind, and our neighbors
shushed us before I could find out anything more than that none of the
others had heard from Traci since the camping trip, either.

Even without the shushing, we'd have had to watch what we said. One of
Traci's sisters was sitting next to us; with the other sister, she
bookended the three kids.

You could tell they were all family. Traci's sisters had the same
facial features as Traci, even the same long brown hair. So did the
kid closest to us, a girl who looked around 6 or 7. The other two were
younger, a boy and girl, both with those familiar grey eyes. The kids
ignored all attempts to shush them as they asked a hundred questions
each. Only when someone rose from the middle of the graduates, turned
and waved, did they quiet down. I couldn't see the grey eyes, but the
brown hair still swept down her back.

I closed my eyes and looked back in time. I saw Traci, naked, entwined
with me. But I also saw Jean, long before, running toward me with her
mortarboard sailing off and her gown billowing like Batman's cape.

I opened my eyes and looked around. There was the proof that time had
passed. All of the girls were women now -- still beautiful, but on the
other side of the divide from the giggles around the campfire. There
was a bright gold band on Terry's left hand. Married. Maybe even with
children; I'd have to ask. Maybe she had a son just the same age as
the little guy next to us.

Uh-oh. There came the tears again. Losing Jean had been hard, and I
would never forget her, but maybe, someday, even if it were a long
time in the future, I'd find another woman to share my life. Kids,
though -- there's a deadline for kids. I had no prospects and no
hopes. And I found that very hard to live with.

The speakers droned on as I wiped the tears away. Carrie leaned over
and patted my arm. "I know how you must feel. She's the last of us.
All grown-up college grads now!"

I smiled, weakly. Vague words about hope and peace and the future
wafted over us. I let the float past and escaped into daydreams. I
thought of the camping trip, of course. Whipped cream and a cold pond.
It had changed my life in so many ways. Afterward, I'd gotten a new
job. Filled my days with things I enjoyed. There were still lonely
times, but often, when I was low, I could think back to that trip.

I blacked out the bad parts. That wasn't easy at first. But I had it
down pat now. I could call to mind Sri dancing around me and feel more
than all right. Maybe that was another reason I'd kept away from them,
all these years. To freeze them as they were on those few, those
golden days. To preserve them as memories.

Maybe. But if that was it, the reason was sounding a bit dumb. There I
was with some of the girls -- women -- and it felt good. What's more,
it felt alive. Just sitting there amid them, I felt as if I had
stepped out of the world for awhile and then returned, or as if time
had frozen and spring had come at last.

As the speeches droned on, even the shushers gave up and everyone was
chattering. The kids in our row were all abuzz, playing with the
fold-up seats, squirming around. The older girl tried to make a break
for it, squeezing past Traci's sister and crawling over Terry and
Carrie before I nabbed her. She gave me that pouty face that little
girls must learn from old Shirley Temple movies and insisted I let her
go. Traci's sister was looking embarrassed and apologizing to me. I
brokered a compromise, letting the little girl perch on my lap -- not
free in the aisle, but not back in her seat. She accepted it
gracefully and stayed with me through the rest of the ceremony.

She was still there when Traci came up the aisle, mortarboard sailing
off her head, gown billowing out like Batman's cape.

Her face lit up when she saw us. The little girl leaped off my lap and
raced up to Traci, being swept up in a big hug before the other scouts
and I and the rest of her family piled on as well.

It was a chaotic tangle, and it stayed that way as we were swept out
into the lobby by the flow of the crowd. Somewhere in the melee Traci
invited me to her house the next day for a big party. I accepted
abstractedly, knowing it would be easier to beg off by phone than in
person -- or simply not to go at all. It had felt good to see her, and
the others, but I was happy and comfortable the way I was. I didn't
want to rush into anything.

So I nodded, yes, I'd be there, and mouthed a few pleasantries before
Traci had to go return her gown. The other scouts and I vowed to see
each other at the party and went our separate ways. I turned back just
before I pushed through the doors for one last look at Traci. She was
striding away, one arm draped over her dad, the other towing the
little girl, with the rest of her family close behind. I was glad she
seemed happy.

Back home, I took my ticket stub down to the basement and tucked it
back in the box with the photos.  Upstairs, I pulled a book from the
"someday" stack I kept by my bed, made a cup of tea and settled back
in an overstuffed easy chair.

It was an hour or two later when something roused me from a nap. I
looked around, confused, until the chime of the doorbell came again. I
got to my feet, book tumbling to the floor, and went to the hallway.
Still drowsy, I didn't even bother to see who it was; I just opened
the door.

It was raining. I didn't see the drops or the gray sky, though. Just
the way Traci's hair was plastered to her skull.

Words spilled out of her. "I'm sorry to bother you at home. I know
it's been so long since ... since ... But when you said you'd come,
tomorrow, you looked ... I don't know ... And Jean ..."

I waved her inside and made a fresh pot of tea. Her mention of my late
wife had tweaked too many conflicting emotions, and I monopolized the
conversation to keep her from going there again.

At first it was just babble about the graduation ceremony and the
other scouts and my painting. Anything to avoid silence as I rattled
two cups and saucers onto a tray with some sugar packs and a ceramic
cow full of milk. I put the teapot on and carried it into the living
room, still gabbing. Only then did I realize Traci was still in her
wet coat. I took it from her and got her a towel.

Traci sat on my couch in her jeans and plain white blouse, towelling
off her silky hair. And she was the most beautiful thing that house
had seen in almost a decade. I just sat back and watched her. A lot of
emotions I'd bottled up came rushing to the surface.

Traci spoke first. "There are some things I have to tell you," she
said, those grey eyes shining. "I wasn't sure if you'd really come
tomorrow. And maybe it wouldn't have been fair to wait until then,
either."

"I have some things to tell you, too," I said.

Traci held up a hand. "I think I should go first."

"No," I said. "Because if I don't say this right now, I might never.
And I don't want to go on regretting the things I didn't do."

I leaned forward in the chair. "Traci, I love you. It's crazy and
impossible and probably much too late, but I can't help that. I knew I
loved you that weekend, that wild weekend. But I couldn't tell you
then, because you were much too young."

Traci's eyes grew moist and she opened her mouth to speak, but I
rushed on. "I know you've gone on with your life since then.
Boyfriends. Someone special?"

She shook her head, but a mysterious smile flickered on her lips. I
swear, if she'd stopped me there I would have deflated like a crashing
blimp. Instead, I kept going.

"I can't ask you if you love me, not after all this time. And I
shouldn't even be asking this, not out of the blue like this, but ...
but will you consider going out with me? Starting from scratch? Traci,
I've been avoiding life too long. I want to get back into it. I want
to ... I want to try, with you. I'm an old ... older man, and if I'm
scaring the hell out of you now, just leave. I'll understand. I'll
..."

She finally cut me off, which was a good thing because I was even
scaring myself. Actually, it was a wonderful thing. Because she cut me
off by rising from the couch, pulling me to my feet and planting a
long, sweet, passionate kiss on my love-starved lips.

Traci tasted like summer and youth and romance. I'm not sure how
anyone could distill all those into a kiss, but she did it.

I wrapped her in my arms. She molded to my body. Our kiss went on and
on. Days could have passed and I wouldn't have noticed. I was lost in
her.

I blinked several times when at last our lips parted. Was it real?
Traci was warm and vibrant in my arms. It was.

I hadn't opened the curtains in that room in ages. The shreds of late
afternoon light that snuck in weren't enough for me to read her eyes.
I wondered: Was this love? Or just another project to cheer me up?

I started to ask her. She pursed her ruby lips.

"Ssssh. Don't talk. There'll be time for that later. A lifetime,
perhaps." Traci looked around. "Do you still have a bedroom in this
place, or do you just hibernate in here?"

Truth was, I'd spent more than one night asleep in the chair; I kept a
"backup" alarm clock on top of the TV. But I did a quick mental check.
I was in luck. This was one of the days I actually had made up the
bed.

We walked upstairs hand in hand, squeezed in the staircase. I didn't
want to let go of her, in case she were to disappear in a mist. This
time, I was holding on.

"Won't your family wonder where you are?" I already presumed that once
I had her in my bed, I wouldn't let her go."

"I made arrangements," she said. She squeezed my hand. "I was hoping
..."

We got to the door of my bedroom and we both hesitated. I don't know
what was going on in Traci's head, but I had a lot of emotions
swirling around -- not least, the memories of past nights in that
room. I'd once planned on never letting another woman in there. Then I
remembered that faded T-shirt: "Life is what happens to you while
you're making other plans."

The past was gone, never to return. Traci was the present. And, if I
was far luckier than I deserved, the future. I took a deep breath and
ushered her over the threshold.

There was just enough light for us to make out our surroundings. Traci
found a candle I didn't even remember on the dresser and lit it. It
didn't throw much light, but a faint scent of sandalwood entered the
room.

She stepped up to me. We embraced. Our lips met, our mouths opened,
our tongues touched. It was so right.

We undressed in the dim light. I cursed it for hiding the perfection
of Traci's young body. I thanked it for hiding my own imperfections.

Traci approached me again. Her naked flesh joined mine, head to toe.
Of course, my erection rose, rubbing her flat stomach. Her breasts
jutted into my chest, nipples poking me. Our mouths met hungrily.
There was romance, yes, but also passion. Traci stirred the elemental
in me. I had to possess her completely.

When we tumbled to my bed, I sent my hands everywhere on her body. I
couldn't get enough of her; I couldn't get over my luck. Her breasts,
large and still firm, yielding like ripe peaches to my touch. Her
legs, such sculpted curves. Her face, pure and fresh. Her slim waist,
widening to womanly hips, the aroma of sexual desire already rising
from inside her.

I explored it all with eager, trembling hands. I kissed it all, top to
bottom. As my lips approached her golden triangle, she softly pushed
me back. "Not yet," she said. "It's my turn now."

Then I was still as Traci explored me. At first I was as nervous as a
virgin: Would I measure up to her memories? To her experiences since
then? Seven years had brought her near the peak of her form, but
they'd sent me further and further from mine. Yet being with her made
me feel young once more. She didn't try to soothe me with lies about
how I hadn't changed; that would have wounded me to the quick. No,
Traci only showed me how she felt.

Her fingers floated over my body like dandelion puffs, insubstantial
as the afternoon breeze. With the back of her hand she caressed my
rigid cock, but it was a fleeting touch. She was everywhere, there but
not there, tantalizing with the merest brush of flesh on flesh.

There -- her thigh along my own, sharing warmth. There -- her hair
sweeping across my chest. There -- hot breath on the side of my face.

Traci moved in, nibbling at the edges of my ear. Soft, sweet lips at
my neck, my forehead, finally pressed to mine.

Away again, kisses like soap bubbles landing one by one down my arm.
Lips on my palm, tongue darting out. My fingers in her mouth, long
slides in and out, pursed lips holding me tight tight tight.

The other hand, too, and the erotic torture of having her suckling me
but not where I needed her most, that sweet tension had me writhing on
the bed, tugging comforter into a pile.

When I thought I could take no more, when tears were squeezing out of
my eyes and I was begging for mercy, Traci let go of my hand. A long,
lithe leg swung over my body. Her hot, fragrant cunt left a wet
imprint on my stomach as she straddled me.

She leaned forward and her breasts swung down, swaying before my eyes.
Slowly she lowered them until I couldn't wait and lifted my head,
taking first one of her tits and then the other into my mouth.

Before I got my fill, Traci was sliding down, her ass lifting up to
clear my cock. Her nipples trailed down my chest.

Down and down they went, until my dick was cradled in their cushiony
warmth. Traci stroked it only a few times before she slid down
further.

Though the afternoon light was fading, I could still make out the
erotic sight of my cock waggling in front of Traci's face, her eyes
following it as if it were a hypnotist's swaying pocket watch. Her
hands reached up. Fingers closed around the shaft. She held it steady,
firm and straight. I could see her eyes, open wide, looking past my
dick to me.

Her pink tongue darted between her lips, circled them. She opened her
hands, drew my cock to her face, rubbed it across her cheeks.

Traci was stretched out between my legs, her feet hanging off the bed.
The old box springs creaked as she adjusted her position. Her mouth
hovered over the top of my dick. Her lips, pressed tight, came to me
soft as a blanket of snow. Again her tongue peeked out. It spiralled
around the tip and then rode down the sensitive underside of the shaft
to my scrotum, where she sucked first one, then the other of my balls
gently into her mouth.

She came back up, kissing the tip. For several minutes after that
Traci concentrated on the shaft. She nibbled at it like an ear of
corn, licked it like a lollipop. My hands clenched, nails digging into
the palms, as I endured the anticipation.

At last she returned to the tip. Her tongue retreated, her lips closed
into a tight rosebud. As her hands held my rod upright, Traci lowered
her head. Her hair fell into a curtain, shutting off my view, but I
didn't need to see to know what was happening.

Her slick, wet lips touched the very top of my cock. With infinite
patience she pressed down, forcing my dick to penetrate her mouth. The
pressure of her lips hugged me tightly. When her lips widened to admit
the entire head, then snapped back to form a tight seal on the shaft,
I let out a long, deep sigh.

Traci kept me in her mouth, sucking me, while her hands languidly
stroked my shaft. I tried to push deeper into her mouth but she
resisted. I squeezed my eyes shut as my breathing synchronized with
her strokes.

Then, so swiftly that I stopped breathing and didn't even notice, she
pushed her lips down my shaft -- down, down, down, my flesh
disappearing into her. I felt the head of my cock bump into her throat
when she was still an inch or more from swallowing me whole, and Traci
backed off. But she went down again, getting a bit closer before I
heard her quietly gag. A third, a fourth, a fifth time she slowly slid
down my pole. On the sixth trip she didn't stop until her lips
surrounded the base of my cock.

My own mouth had opened, gaping wide in shock as Traci deep-throated
me several times more. For the few seconds she would keep me fully
inserted, she would twist slightly, imparting an incredible jolt as
her throat spun on the tip of my dick.

As fantastic as the feelings were, I didn't think I could endure much
more. So it was blessed relief when she switched to a more vigorous
approach, bobbing frantically as her mouth slid up and down about half
the length of my slickened cock and her nimble fingers attended to the
rest. I humped up at her, fucking her eager mouth. The bedsprings
sounded like an all-bagpipe version of "The Stars and Stripes
Forever."

I could feel my cock thicken. Traci made one last, lingering ride to
the base, burying her nose in my short hairs. Then it was back to the
quick, short strokes as I grunted and groaned.

When my orgasm hit, she kept me inside her, swallowing my pulsing
load. It was a tremendous release for me, a power surge through my
entire body. Traci held me in her mouth, easing her sucking as my
ecstasy ebbed. At last she licked me clean and let my shriveled member
pop out.

Though it had been a -- literally -- draining experience, I felt very
energized. So, when Traci crawled up and kissed me, I not only kissed
her back fervently but also grabbed her and rolled her onto her back.

"It's my turn," I said, as I licked and suckled from her face to her
waist. Then I dipped down to her honeypot.

I let my fingers do the fucking first. Just one digit, actually,
sliding up and down her slit as I gently blew over it. Slowly, slowly,
and with each stroke Traci got wetter and wetter. When I finally
pushed inside, there was no resistance at all. Even so, I stopped with
just one knuckle inside, cruising to her clit and back. Only when she
was wriggling and moaning for a couple minutes did I plunge in
further, followed by a second finger. I pushed and pulled, coating my
hand in her fluids, as Traci bucked up to meet my thrusts.

I let her ride the wave for awhile before I pulled my fingers out. She
humped thin air a few times. When she'd settled down, I bent forward
and kissed her slit. I was rewarded by a thrumming purr; she knew what
was ahead.

Going down on Traci was like diving face-first into a cherry pie. Not
so sweet, perhaps, but just as hot and tasty.

I licked her first, until she got so jumpy that I got more hair than
quim. Then I poked my tongue into her. I couldn't reach in very far,
so I tried to make up for it by being active -- machine-gunning her
slit, nibbling at her clit. She gave me a few suggestions -- in
between squeals -- that I immediately put into effect.

Before long, Traci had her legs sticking high in the air and her hands
were pressing down on my head. I had to twist to one side or the other
every so often just to take a breath. I'd snuck a finger into her,
deep into her cunt, to push her closer. She howled when I buried my
face in her, spreading her cunt wide while my tongue and finger drove
inside.

But when I had her near the peak, when her ass was bouncing and the
old bed was protesting louder than ever, she shocked me by grabbing my
shoulders and starting to pull me up.

"What's wrong?" I gasped, wiping her juices away from my eyes. "Did I
do something wrong?"

"No," Traci said, all out of breath. "You were perfect. But I need you
inside me. I need you now."

And so I quickly scrambled into position, on my knees, my cock, hard
again, waggling between her legs. Traci licked her own fluids from my
face as we kissed tenderly.

Our mouths were joined as my dick nudged her pussy, so buttery-slick
that I almost entered it without trying.

I considered teasing her, sliding along her slit, driving her crazy
like she drove me. But, truth was, by that point I wanted it, needed
it just as much as Traci did. I knew what I had been yearning for. I
knew what I craved.

We fit together like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, a perfect match. My
cock split her pussy lips and dove deep, one smooth straight plunge
burying all of me, flesh swallowing flesh.

We held like that for a moment lost in time, bodies fully engaged,
mouth to mouth, cock to cunt, skin to skin with nothing in between.

Her legs curled around me, enfolded me, urged me on. Her arms wrapped
me tightly, promising to never let go. I withdrew my dick, held it
poised at her opening, entered again. The ancient rhythms took us
over.

Each stroke was another trip to paradise. For a long time I lost track
of all sensations save those from our point of most intimate contact.
There was a heightened awareness, as if I could feel every individual
cell in her pussy walls. An electricity, surging from my loins.

Before long, Traci's shouts grew louder, more guttural. Her orgasm
arrived like an earthquake, one tremendous prolonged convulsion
followed by multiple aftershocks.

By the time the last ones were fading I had resumed my thrusts. Traci
matched me. We pounded away, our speed ever and ever faster until one
or the other or both of us would sag in exhaustion, resting for a bit
but then resuming, rushing to crescendoes we couldn't quite reach.

My bed shook and shuddered but held fast. "Better made than some cots
I remember," Traci said. With a smile, I presume, though by then it
was so dim I couldn't see her nose in front of my face.

Though I kept my house cool, our exertions had turned the bedroom into
a sauna. We were covered in sweat, clinging to each other to keep from
sliding apart. The comforter was a sodden rag wrapped around us. Still
we stroked, measure for measure, a glorious duet. I had to keep
shifting my weight from one arm to the other, trying to provide relief
for my weary muscles.

Even so, I slipped lower and lower until Traci was taking most of the
burden. Her feet planted on the mattress, she still managed to heave
up to meet my every downthrust.

Yet again and again we rutted. Suddenly I was locked in a rigid
embrace, then riding a bronco, Traci bucking wildly. At first I could
only hold on. Eventually I regained enough control to push deep into
her, once, twice, and came the familiar feeling, boiling up from
within, shooting out in great gobbets of cum, filling her up,
overflowing.

I'm sure that we cuddled afterward, kissed, murmured sweet nothings.
Or at least that Traci did. As I've mentioned before, sex is a
powerful narcotic for me.

But I awoke in just a couple of hours. As I blinked my eyes, a lovely
vision came into focus. Traci was next to me. She was on her side,
chin propped up on one hand, staring at me. I couldn't make out her
expression in the shadows, so I hesitated a little, but in the end I
asked.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"What it would be like to wake up every day and see you."

"And?"

She moved closer so I could see the broad smile on her face. "And what
do you think?" She kissed me passionately. "I think I'd like it." As
she pressed her young body to me, my erection fit into the valley
between her slim legs. "Mmm. Especially if you have that kind of
welcome for me."

Traci rolled on top of me and plunged her tongue into my mouth. We
luxuriated in a long embrace. But when we broke our kiss, I made a
small grunt of displeasure.

"Something wrong?"

"No, it's just -- well, a bit wet.."

In fact, I felt as if I was trapped in a pile of used bathing suits.
But Traci wasn't about to let that dampen the mood. In a few seconds
we'd ripped off the bed fittings down to single, dry sheet and she was
once again on top of me.

The candle on the dresser was still lit. Reflected off the big mirror,
it cast a faint, flickering, fluttering shadow of Traci's sensual
profile on the wall beside us. As I felt her cunt settle on my cock,
wrapping me in hot pleasure, I watched her shadow rise and fall, proud
breasts bobbling.

We made a symphony of love, in perfect harmony. Already Traci's body
was familiar. My hands knew just where to go. Our pace was slow, each
stroke like a drawn-out note on a violin.

To make the feeling last as long as possible, we would stop often,
with my cock completely embedded in her. Traci would lean forward
until she was stretched out on my chest. Our mouths would join, in
urgent, consuming kisses. Then she would rise again, lifting up until
our union was all but interrupted, and begin the dance again.

To me, it was the promise that this would be only the first of a
lifetime of nights together that made it the most exciting. Sure,
there were a lot of issues we'd have to deal with. I didn't take
commitment lightly. But in the candle's glow and the aura of our
passion, the future looked very bright.

And the present was pretty rosy, too. Traci and I kept at it for
almost an hour. She had two orgasms, each one temporarily reducing her
strength, but she gently put off my suggestions that we switch
positions. The air grew thick. Several times I thought I was near a
climax, but each time the feeling faded away.

I actually considered the possibility of faking it, just to give Traci
a break. But the feeling of being inside her was too wonderful. And so
she rose and fell and I met her movements and the candlelight made her
shadow dance on the wall.

When I sensed a tightening in my groin, at first I thought it was
another false warning. But this time it grew sharper and sharper.
Traci must have felt my cock swell within her, for she began to
quicken her pace.

It was a long, long build-up. I groaned in passion and frustration,
desperate for release. Traci cried "Yes, yes, do it!" over and over,
louder each time.

Then it hit, a shattering climax, one great blast following another.
Traci peaked at the same time, shrieking and digging her nails into my
chest.

If the build-up took a long time, the orgasms lasted an eternity.
Buried in Traci's cunt, I stayed hard and rode out several minutes of
her gyrations.

Finally she toppled beside me as my dick slipped out of her. We both
were on our backs, staring up at a black ceiling. For a long time the
only sounds were our breathing and our heartbeats.

Then we started talking, and we talked all night. At first, it was
mostly insubstantial words of love. As dawn crept through the window,
though, we turned to deeper issues.

It was some time after that I brought up children, and my desire to
have them.

Traci burrowed her head into my neck. "Right away?" she asked.

"Well ..." I fumbled for words. "I'm not getting younger. I want to be
able to be a real dad, not some old guy in a rocker."

"Right away, then."

"If that's what you want, too."

Traci smiled and the sun rose. "I think that can be arranged. And I
think you'll be a wonderful father. After all, look how well you got
on with Jean."

I froze. "Jean? What does that --"

"Jean," Traci said. "The little girl who crawled into your lap at
commencement. That's Jean."

"Oh. Your niece."

Traci giggled. "Niece? No, my sisters were just watching her for me.
Like my mom agreed to last night. But I really should get going, so I
can be there when she wakes up."

"Then Jean is --"

"My daughter." Traci paused, then lifted her head and looked me in the
eye. I saw the truth even before she spoke. But the words still were
sweet.

"I mean," she said, "our daughter."

She smiled. "Happy Father's Day."

THE END

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