Date: Sun, 12 Oct 2008 14:50:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Twenty-Five

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is
not the story for you.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.

NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and
editing the chapters.  Want to read a couple of good stories?  Try "Never
Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give".  They are both excellent.


Chapter Twenty-Five:  Second Time Around


The snow didn't let up until well after dark; even then we couldn't leave
until the snowplows did their job.  Watching the news, I learned that the
snow wasn't nearly as heavy in southern Virginia and all main roads were
open in that area.  I assumed the roads would also be open south of there.
After spending seven years in New York, I knew how long it could take for
the plows to do their job.

I encouraged the boys to go to bed early and get some rest.  The plan was
for me to be up well before dawn and check travel advisories.  If the roads
were open, we were leaving as soon as possible; I wanted to beat any
potential rush hour traffic out of DC.  Teen boys have the same problem as
small boys.  If they don't do something during the day to burn off energy,
they don't go to sleep at night.  The boys did go to bed, but when I turned
in, they sat up and grinned.

"Uh-uh," was my simple comment.  They didn't have to say or do anything for
me to know what they were thinking.

"We're traveling tomorrow and I need to be rested.  I plan on flying low
and being at your grandmother's by supper."

"But, Dad, we're not tired, much less sleepy, yet," Mike complained.

"Come with me guys, and I'll show you a trick."

The boys followed me to the balcony door.  I opened the door and gently,
but firmly, pushed them outside.  Two naked boys standing in the snow
turned around to see me close and lock the door.  They did get an
interesting look of disbelief on their faces.  They begged me to open the
door but I decided about five minutes would be good for them.  It took
about four minutes for Little Mikey and Little Frank to retreat, seeking
warmth.  Their nipples even shriveled up to the size of goose-bumps.  I let
them in.

"Dad!  What'd you do that for?"  Frank didn't sound very happy.

"Your libidos needed cooling and I thought that was a good way to get it
done.  Seems like Little Mikey and Little Frank agreed." I smiled while I
talked to them.  They didn't seem to appreciate the humor.

"Now, I suggest that the two of you take a nice hot shower and then get in
bed and go to sleep."  When they didn't move quickly, I added, "Go."

Laying in bed, under a nice down-filled comforter, I smiled to myself,
thinking about both boys being in the shower, most likely fussing and
cussing at me.  Of course, I knew when they came out they wouldn't say
much, if they did they knew to control their tone of voice.  I had always
told them they could say anything they wanted, they could even call me a
s-o-b so long as they used the right tone of voice.

The fact that they took a looong shower didn't surprise me.  They were told
from an early age, about the time they had figured out that some small
parts of their bodies could be fun, that there was no rule governing how
long they washed any particular part of their body.  The shower was long
enough that I was sure that every part of their bodies was thoroughly
cleansed.  When they came out I had to bite my tongue so they wouldn't know
I was awake and could hear them.

"I still think we oughtta stick a ice cube at the bottom of his butt," Mike
whispered.

"Shush.  He hears you say that and we're liable to wind up on that patio
again and my ass don't care to get frozen; my balls neither."

"We just gonna let him get away with stickin' us out there?"

"If you don't shut-up and you wake him, I guess we'll find out.  You wanna
take the chance?"

"Nooooo," Mike whimpered.

Over the years, I had learned just from the way the boys climbed into bed
with me, which one it was without even looking.  When they climbed in bed
this time, it was like a minor earthquake with Michael behind me.  He
shifted around enough to wake a dead man.  When he had little Mikey
comfortable, he lay down and slipped an arm under my arm and over my chest.

"Mike, settle down," Frank whispered irritably.

"Little Mikey's still cold and needs a warm spot."

"You're gonna wake him," Frank stated.

"That's okay; it's his fault, and besides, he feels nice and warm."

"If you two don't settle down, I'm going to heat up both of your little
butts."

I could feel Mike laughing behind me.  Frank leaned over to my ear.

"Promise?" he asked as he stuck his tongue in my ear.

I rolled over and each of them straddled a leg and then pinned down an arm.
I could have thrown them, but I let them alone.

"How about if I just toss the two of you out on the balcony for the rest of
the night?"

"You wouldn't do that," Frank stated confidently.  "Then we'd get colds and
have to explain ta Grandma how we got 'em.  Besides, you love us too much
and we know it."

That was when I easily pulled my arms free, reached down and grabbed two
fistfulls of teenage butt.

"Oooooooo," Michael cooed, "Big Daddy wanna play with Little Mikey and
Frankie?"  There was that sing-song little boy voice again that reeked of
mischief.

They both dove for a nipple and I gave in.

                                           * * * *

Two weeks and a day after leaving for New York, we were back.  When we
walked into the house, I was ready to stretch out some kinks after a long
drive and then find an easy chair.  The boys spotted Eric and they had
renewed energy.  The boys had been apart for two weeks; they acted like it
had been two years.  Mother acted as though my walking in was a daily
event.  She asked me if I had a nice trip as she passed by on her way to
the boys.

The big issue was three boys sharing one bedroom.  People always joke about
two or more girls getting together and it's an all night jabber-thon.  What
no one admits is that boys are just as bad.  It's not that they're girls or
boys, they are just kids who get excited and don't know when to slow down
until they collapse.  Since there was only one more school day in the week,
the plan was to keep Frank and Mike home.  They could sleep in, but Eric
needed his sleep.  Talking to them was like talking to a wall.

Bonnie tapped on the door and told them to go to sleep several times.
Finally, she came in and asked me for help.  I walked into the room and
three boys scrambled for cover; they weren't naked but they didn't want
Bonnie or their Grandmother to see them in their underwear.  I was nice and
explained that Eric needed his sleep and they should call it a night.  The
threat to make my point was that the next time I walked in, one of them
would sleep with their Grandmother and another with Bonnie.  When I
suggested they think of how they would wake in the morning and not be
embarrassed by their usual morning problem it got very quiet and stayed
quiet.  When Bonnie asked me how I got them to be quiet I told her it was a
guy thing.

Eric and Bonnie both headed off to school around the same time.  I called
Bolles to let them know we were in town and explain why the boys were
delayed.  They just said the boys would have to make up the week's work and
asked if we could come in later in the morning to set the boys' schedules.
There was even a suggestion that the boys could get some of their makeup
work while we were there.  I decided to let the boys find out about that
when we got to the school.

Before leaving New York, I had made some phone calls to contractors and my
first appointment was a little after lunch.  Mother rode with us to the
school where the boys got their surprise, which didn't please them much.
After lunch we headed to the new house to meet two contractors, a pool man
and a remodeling contractor.  I had a strange feeling that, while Mother
was willing to sit back and let me handle our new house, she wasn't beyond
offering a suggestion here and there.

The key was where the realtor had said she would leave it.  This was the
first time that we felt we were able to look through the house at our
leisure.  It's strange how many little things you notice around the third
or fourth inspection.  My plan was to paint, furnish and enjoy.  Nice
thought.

"HEY, DAD!" Frank called out.  "Ya gotta see this.  Somebody changed
somethin' while we were gone."  His tone said it could be either a
catastrophe or a nice surprise.

When I walked into the boys' bathroom I stopped dead, stunned.  The room
appeared to be finished in neutral tones of beige when we inspected it in
the late afternoon.  The bright light of midday showed that it was pink,
and not just the paint on the walls.

"Well, what'a'ya know.  I guess your brown towels won't look very good in
here will they.  Oh well, we'll get you some more towels in different
shades of pink."

"Da-ad, no way!" Both boys exclaimed almost simultaneously.

"Relax boys," Mother said very calmly.  "Your father's just teasing you."
She added without a smile and while giving me a very stern look.  I had
seen that look many times while growing up and fully understood its
intended meaning.

"Okay, I have a suggestion.  Let's go through the house and make a list of
things that need to be done and things we would like to have done.  Then,
we can sit down and prioritize what we do so we can move in.  If we try to
do everything at once, your grandmother may have to put up with you two for
the next six months."

"If it's just the boys, that might be nice." Mother commented as she walked
off, smiling.

While I was walking through the house with the contractor, he somehow got
pulled away from me and wound up in the boys' rooms with them and Mother.
The boys had identical rooms that were mirror imaged; they shared a jack 'n
jill pink bathroom.  The area behind the bathroom was divided into the
closets for the two rooms.  What I perceived to be a simple paint job
quickly evolved into a major redecorating plan, with Mother instigating.

The wood trim in the main rooms and halls was stained.  The woodwork in the
bedrooms and baths was painted.  The new plan, for which I wasn't even
consulted, called for the woodwork in the boys' bedrooms and bath to be
removed and replaced with new stained wood trim to match the main part of
the house.  Michael's room was to be painted forest green and floating
shelves installed, stained to match, naturally.  He was to also get a wood
floor.  I appreciated the fact they consented to laminate.  Frank's room
was to be painted tan except that one wall would have a bead-board accent
painted a slightly darker shade.

The painter had a whole crew that could install new tile in the bathroom
plus remove the lower ceiling over the tub and shower.  The bath was to be
painted taupe and receive updated fixtures.  I leaned against the wall with
my arms crossed and listened.  The whole deal seemed to have been made
before they asked me what I thought.  I just held the palm of my hands up
and shrugged my shoulders as I remembered Dad telling me about Mother doing
things like this to him.  However, in all fairness to Mother, she did tell
the boys that she would treat them to new linens and drapes plus some other
decorating pieces.  Watching them, I wondered who was enjoying this the
most and realized that I had been right, the boys did need time with their
grandmother, and she with them.

The outside remodeling was strictly my territory.  We had a backyard larger
than the postage stamp lots they use in most new developments, which is why
I didn't want a new house.  My plan called for a nice sized pool with a
diving well, outdoor hot tub, gazebo and a small outdoor kitchen.  Using an
old survey of the property, I had prepared a scaled sketch of what I wanted
where.

When we got home that night, the boys didn't waste any time telling Eric
what happened at the house and that their grandmother helped them with the
decorating, including treating them to new linens and drapes.  When Frank
told me about the discussion with Eric, I looked at Mother and knew she
hadn't considered she could be creating a problem.  She addressed the issue
during dinner just as though she had always planned on talking to Eric.

"Eric, I understand that Frank and Michael told you about their new rooms."
Without missing a beat or even looking at Eric, she continued.  "I was
curious about what you might want to do to your room to make it yours."

"Ma'am?" Eric looked a little puzzled. "Mom hasn't found us a place yet,
soo . . ."

"I thought maybe you and your mother would like to live here, at least
until your mother graduates from college.  If the two of you stay, then I
thought it would be nice if you could make your bedroom . . .well, more
yours."  Eric thought for a moment and then looked back to his grandmother.

"But, that was Uncle Rick's room."

"The operative word, Eric, is 'was'," Mother responded.  "Your Uncle Rick
is a grown man with a family and home of his own to care for.  That was his
room as a child; he's no longer a child.  The room is yours.  If Rick would
like to take a few things out of there and keep them, that's his choice."
Eric looked at me and I just smiled and gave him a slight nod.

"Grandma, what can I do to it?"

"Well, whatever you want so long as you don't go too crazy.  I thought you
might like to have it painted a different color.  Since Rick has a
contractor painting his house, he should have the spare time to help you
paint your room.  When I take Frank and Mike to purchase new linens and
drapes for their rooms, we should be able to do the same for you."

Eric sat there grinning from ear to ear and I sat there wondering how I
just volunteered to paint.

When I retired for the evening I realized how tired I was; the week had
taken its toll.  I headed to the bathroom for a warm, relaxing shower, and
could hear the boys in their room talking and laughing.  When I came out of
the bathroom, half asleep, I would have sworn that I heard some whimpering
sounds coming from the boys' room.  After listening for a moment, I decided
it was my imagination and went to bed.  I was out before my head hit the
pillow.

Falling into a deep sleep, I wasn't aware that the world even existed.
However, I was aware of some strange feelings, good feelings, that pulled
me out of my deep, relaxing sleep.  I didn't know what time it was, other
than very late, when I partially awoke into that state where you aren't
exactly asleep, but you're not awake either.  It was a nice feeling.  I
just lay there and gently moved my hips back and forth enjoying the
soothing feeling of moist warmth sliding up and down my shaft.  As a
teenager, I had that same dream many, many times, each dream ending in a
big wet spot on my sheets.  I reached down to grasp my rod and stimulate
myself.  What I grasped was not my rod.

Feeling something large, round and hairy, it was too dark for me to
recognize whose head was bouncing up and down.  Grasping a handful of hair,
I lifted up.

"Eric?"  Without answering, he smiled and dropped back down, swallowing my
shaft.  Again, grasping his hair, I lifted him off my rod.

"Eric," I whispered.  "What are you doing, besides the obvious?"  This time
I didn't let go of his hair, but used it to pull him up.  He slid up and
lay over me.  When I let go, he lay his head on my chest and decided to
flick my nipple.

"I just wanted ta . . .well, you were gone for so long and all and . . ."
he spent more time stuttering around than he did answering the question.
"Thanks for the room and all.  I just wanted to say thanks, and . . . hold
me?"  His voice sounded so uncertain, but pleading.  He didn't lay still
either, he was grinding himself into my groin.  I popped him on his butt.

"Stop that!" I whispered in his ear.  He giggled. "You know you could have
just come in and said thanks."

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted it ta be more than me just sayin' thanks."  He
looked up at me and then lay his head down again.  "I'll tell ya somethin'
but promise me you won't tell Mike or Frank, okay?"  I nodded. "I'm kinda
jealous of 'em.  I never had nobody but my mom that'd hold me the way you
hold them.  Dad said it was sissy stuff and guys weren't supposed ta tell
each other they loved 'em.  I can't remember the last time he hugged me or
said that he loved me."

With the crack of emotion in his voice, I felt a tear fall onto my chest.
I wrapped my arms around him and we just lay there.  I knew Bob was a total
ass, but after that confession I thought even less of him.  How could
anyone not tell their kids they loved them?  Bob could give the term
jack-ass a whole new meaning.  Eric calmed down and I thought he had fallen
asleep, until he lifted his head and smiled at me.

"You cost me a bet," He told me, and I could hear the hint of laughter in
his voice now.  "I bet Mike and Frank that I could come in here and get you
hard and mount you before you woke up.  They said it couldn't be done.  Now
I owe each of 'em a blow.  If I don't get you inside me, then I owe each of
them a piece of my ass in addition to the blow."

"And what were you supposed to get if you won?"  I couldn't help but laugh
a little myself.  My boys were now using me to make bets.

"I was supposed to get two pieces of hot ass from them and a royal fucking
from you."  He hesitated and then looked worried.  I popped his butt again.
"Sorry, guess I shouldn't a said it quite like that.  But it was the royal
treatment from you that I really wanted."

He grinned, that mischievous grin all boys have at a young age, and dropped
down to my nipple.  He sucked it in, hard, and flicked his tongue over the
tit before nibbling.  I arched my back and drew air between clinched teeth.
He looked up and grinned again before moving to the other nipple.  His
fingers grabbed the first nipple and twisted.  I felt fingernails rake my
side.

When his mouth let go of my left nipple, his fingers pinched it.  Eric
quickly worked his way down my abdomen and I felt him suck the head into
his warm mouth.  His tongue flicked over the head and his fingers pinched
and twisted my nipples.  My hands dropped to the bed and grasped the sheets
as I squirmed.

Eric let go before he brought me over the edge.  Moving up my body, he
hooked his hands over my shoulders and pulled himself all the way up.  His
knees fell to my sides as he straddled me.  He began rocking forward and
back, barely touching the tip of my penis.  He was being a real tease.  His
smile said he enjoyed the game he was playing.

"I'm ready for ya.  I'm already lubed up good.  Actually, guess I should
tell ya I might be a little sloppy since me and Frank and Mike was playin'
around when we went ta bed.  Frank left a big load in me and I thought it'd
leave me nice and slick for you."  He bent down and nibbled at my neck.

"I'm supposed to take Frank's seconds?"

"I can clean up," Eric quickly offered.  "I just . . .well, I was afraid
Mom might hear me and I didn't want ta have ta explain to her what I was
doin'.  That'd be kinda embarrassin'."  He let out a nervous giggle, and
then continued.  "I was gonna impale myself, you know, sit on it?  But,
would you mind if I spooned into you and you held me at the same time?"

Turning to my left side, I waited for Eric to position himself in front of
me.  He lay down and scooted back far enough that we touched.  Lifting his
right leg up and placing it over my thigh, I felt him reach between his
legs and guide me to the target.  He pushed down while I lay still and let
him get himself comfortable.  I got curious when he stopped for a moment
and adjusted something.  Looking over his body, I saw that he had placed a
towel, a cum towel, in front of himself and had it draped over his raging
boyhood.  He had to push back three or four times before I felt him opening
up.  As the head entered, he let out with a slight gasp and then a little
moan.  Rotating my hips, teasing him, caused him to whimper and hold
tightly to the arm I had draped across his chest.

"God, you feel so good," he whimpered as he tried to impale himself.

His sphincter muscles flexed, each flex sending a wave of pleasure coursing
through me.  I teased him some more and then wrapped my other arm across
his abdomen.  He reached down and tried to pull against my hip.  Pressing
forward, steadily, I felt him being fully impaled.  He threw his head back
and arched his back as he whimpered.

"Ummmmmm . .aaaahhhhh . . .uuuummpph," he whimpered, barely audible.  He
had a death grip on my forearm as he rotated his hips over my shaft.  He
buried his face in my pillow and cried out his passion as I began a slow,
but steady, in and out . . .in and out.

Varying the speed and force of the thrusts, Eric experienced many
pleasures.  Shifting around some allowed me to change the areas in his body
that received the strongest sensations.  We lay on our sides, me holding
him in my arms, enthralled by the sounds of his cries and whimperings, as
well as the tightness of his body encasing my manhood.

I knew that he had lost all sense of time and place, fully engrossed in the
pleasures coursing through his youthful body.  He would moan and
occasionally reach back to touch the side of my face; he tried turning his
head, seeking a kiss or a hug.  Both of us shone with a light coating of
sweat.  Finally, I had to bring it to an end.  When my orgasm ended and we
both had caught our breath, we remained spooned together with my now
semi-flaccid self still buried deeply within him.  Giving him a light kiss
just behind his ear, I pulled him in tighter and held him as we both fell
asleep.

                                           * * * *

The next two weeks seemed like a whirlwind of semi-organized chaos.  The
first weekend, Mother and Bonnie took the boys to the paint store.  I
thought they were just going to pick up some of those little sample cards
and bring them home for study.  The store had one of those new machines
where you could pick out a simile of the room and then change the color of
the walls and trim.  When I heard about the new 'toy', I was sure the store
personnel would have been willing to pay me to get them out of there.

Making myself comfortable in the old leather recliner, I lay back with a
book and took generous breaks for catnaps.  That's the position I was in
when the peace and quiet was totally shattered by three teens wanting to
show me what they had picked out for Eric's room.  They didn't show me
samples or pictures from the 'toy', but two gallons of fresh paint they
thought should be applied immediately.  The boys got the study that night
while I slept on the sofa in the family room.  Eric's room, no longer even
hinted to be mine, was furnitureless and taped off for painting.

Monday afternoon I received a call from relo letting me know the appraisals
were complete on the New York house and advising me of my options.  When I
heard the value I wasn't sure if I should sit down, ask them if they had
the right house, or jump up and down.  I had no idea that real estate
values had increased that much.  There was more than enough equity in the
New York house to pay cash for the new house.  I opted for a small
mortgage, leaving some funds in the bank for the improvements and
investment.  We closed on the New York house Wednesday morning; the new
house Thursday afternoon.  Workers were tearing out tile Friday morning.
By Friday afternoon, Mother and the boys had changed the plans and the
entire bathroom had to be stripped down to the studs.

Beginning a new position always required extra hours during the first few
days or weeks.  Usually, I was tired and ready to just sit down and have
some peace.  The boys were always considerate and, after a brief greeting,
left me wherever I landed to have a few minutes of peace.  A few minutes
rarely amounted to more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but even that
little bit helped.  When I got home Wednesday evening, the boys were there
to greet me.  This time they didn't leave me alone, but took an arm each
and started pulling.  I had noticed that Mother's car was sitting out in
the driveway, but that did happen once in a while.  However, when we
reached the inside garage door, after an off-key boy trio fanfare, they
opened the door and there sat my Mark II.  I was then given my twenty
minutes of peace to inspect my toy.

The two weeks following the closing on the house were nothing short of
crazy.  The contractor had workers moving all through the house.  The
bathroom no longer had a tub, but a huge walk-in shower with multiple
shower jets.  I later found out that Mother and the boys had seen something
similar on HGTV.  The only change I made to their plans was to insist on
carpet for their rooms to act as insulation against cold and noise.  The
contractor actually had rebuilt the bathroom and painted the whole house,
finishing the day before the furniture was schedule to arrive, which was
two days late.

The furniture arrived on Saturday and most of the big pieces were placed.
The small pieces were set in the rooms that we guessed they belonged in and
I swore to never, ever move again – at least, not the furniture.  It
took another ten days to get the little stuff hung, set or stored in a
closet because we had no idea where to put it.  While I worked my way
through all that mess, Mother worked with the boys.  At least I got a
little peace and quiet when Mother took the boys shopping for their new
linens and drapes and miscellaneous accessories.

The first night I was able to arrive home without having to think about
what went where, it just felt great to pull into the driveway and the only
car there was mine.  When I walked into the house it smelled absolutely
heavenly.  Mother had been over helping the boys finish their rooms, and
then started a beef stew.  The aroma permeating the house was
indescribable.  The stereo was on with some nice soft jazz and there was a
fire in the fireplace.  It definitely felt like home.

Frank came out of the kitchen with a glass of wine for me.  Mike stood in
the kitchen door and smiled.  It took me a minute to realize that both boys
were wearing nothing but chef's aprons.

"Dad, do you know how long it's been since we could just walk through our
own house stark naked if we wanted to?"

"I know, guys.  It has been a while hasn't it.  Speaking of which, the old
man thinks he'll get comfortable too."

I began stripping on the way to my bedroom.  Frank followed with my glass
of wine and Mike was right behind him.  When I was down to my birthday
suit, the boys lost the aprons.  Frank stole a sip of my wine and, as I
gave him a scowl, Mike began his little sexy dance.

"Grandma setup the stew." Frank commented.  "She said it'd be ready in
about another half hour.  Me and Mike thought we'd show you our new big,
big shower with six jets.  You get all over stimulation from up high and
down low."  Frank showed me a sheepish grin like I was supposed to read
something into what he said.

"Yeah," Michael added, "and after dinner, me and Frank figured we knew just
the way to celebrate being in our new home."

While we showered, the boys decided we shouldn't wait until after dinner to
begin the celebration.  They thought a preview might be in order and we
should do something; and we did.

                                           * * * *

A couple of weeks after settling into the new house, the boys and I decided
we needed to have a little family cookout with Mother, Eric and Bonnie.
Eric had already been over a couple of times; actually, about every other
night.  I had been holding off until the backyard began taking some kind of
shape and you could walk around out there without fear of falling over or
into something.  This would be the first celebration, with the next coming
as soon as the pool was ready.

The cookout was planned for Saturday afternoon.  Eric stayed over Friday
night, supposedly to help prepare for the party.  I was well aware that
what he really wanted was to be around Frank and Mike and be able to run
around nude; a state he usually managed to reach before he closed the front
door.

In addition to Mother and Bonnie, a couple of aunts and the boys' cousins
were invited.  I would have asked Patty to come, but she was still out of
town; there would be other times.  Everyone enjoyed touring the house and
kept asking who decorated.  I wondered why people assumed that men didn't
know how to decorate.  The kids were doing what ever it is that kids do
when there's a bunch of them around, and the adults were enjoying coffee in
the family room when the phone rang.

"Richard Geoghagan, please."

"Speaking," I responded.  "May I ask whose calling?"

"Mr. Geoghagan, my name is Sgt. Derek Morgan with the police in . . ."  He
definitely had my attention.  "I understand that you may know a young man
named Sean?  Possibly a friend of your sons?"

"Yes, I know Sean.  He and my boys are good friends, have been for several
years.  Is Sean in trouble, Sergeant?"  Now I was concerned.

"That's what we are trying to determine, Mr. Geoghagan.  Sean's mother
asked that we call you.  Sean's been beatin' up pretty bad, and is in the
hospital.  He won't talk to us."


End Ch Twenty-Five
To Be Continued

Comments Welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com