John and Karen had both just turned 10 that summer. John was a bookworm/science freak-shut-in. Karen, a realTOMBOY from head to toe. Karen's hair was ...ike spun-gold and cut like a Dutchboy. Her mother made her wear dresses and patton leather shoes, and she really hated it. She would not play house with the other girls, and none of the other boys would play with her because she could run faster, throw a ball farther, and could damn near kick everyone's ass in a fair fight. After just a few. I wasn’t able to sense game - or Elves. Which in the case of Elves was okay, but somehow it felt wrong. There was too much of nothing. No game, nothing. I shook my head.““I don’t know, it might be nothing ... However, can you tell me how many of you are usually there, guarding the pass?””““Not so many, from three to five. I don’t really know. There hasn’t been much activity in that area.””Suddenly I felt sick, very sick.““I have a feeling that something is wrong, very wrong. I cannot sense. I cried as quietly and gently as I could manage, but he noticed, and pulled his hand from my head.Liquidly, I said, “My crying was not a suggestion that you should stop.”“Okay, but I thought you might be embarrassed later. You know, after you raped me.”His hand returned, first to make a long pet from my forehead to my nape, then he returned to fondling the hair on my head, as well as that spilling down my back. I let him go for a few minutes, then slowly sat up.“Brett. I ... You...”I knew what. I spent a few extra minutes in the shower that night, thinking about sex and washing my cock very thoroughly. Wasn't easy holding it under my towel on the way back to the room without attracting attention, but speed and timing were my friends. Sam was at his desk. Nowhere else to be, really, except in bed. I walked straight over, put a foot on the arm of the chair, and shoved him back diagonally, trapping him against the wall in the narrow space between desk and bed. “Hey, man,” I said,.