"You tell me. I want to hear you say it." What do you want me to do, slut?" Luke growled in a perfect rendition of Buttman's role."Put it in; do me," ...ackie gushed with torrid fervor."Not good enough, dammit; tell me what you want." Luke knew the script, and he played the part to the hilt."I want your cock, please, please," she whined sounding almost pitiful in her eagerness."Oh hell, you're no good at this. I'm going back to the party to find somebody who knows what they want." No, no, oh,. Which partly explains why I haven't told you, or Chantelle, what is going on. I mean, on the one hand, I really thought she was capable of injury, Sir, you know? Like, cold and calculating? But on the other hand, she just seems simply a bit manic-depressive. I started to think that causing serious injury wasn't in her, but I wasn't sure, and I needed to find out. I assumed Chantelle wouldn't believe me, without proof, and I... I wanted to be... the hero, Sir. I wanted to rescue her." "Rescue. He could tell he was about to cum so he picked up pace. After a few minutes of that, he blew his load. He watched as his spunk went down the shower drain. He got out the shower and dried off. "How am I gonna fuck this kid?" He said to himself. "How?"__________________________________________________________________________________ Meanwhile, in the lobby ... "Welcome to the Willow Creek Home for Boys', come on, I'll show you around. My father and Stacy's were talking about great places to fish in Tennessee. I said to Todd, "Hey, would you care to show me your sports car? I'd love a guided tour."Todd lit up. "Sure! Let's go."We excused ourselves and went outside to his Jaguar. He tossed me the keys. "You drive it." We got in and I adjusted the seat, mirrors, and got familiar with the dash, and then turned the key, as Todd explained the various features of the magnificent car. The engine leaped to life, and the car purred.