Date: Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:33:30 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Rock and a Hard Place by Hans Schreiber

Warning! This is a work of fiction written by a legal age adult. Any
similarity between the fictional characters and any live persons is purely
coincidental. This story contains fictional descriptions of sexual activity
between consenting minor youth. If you are under the age of 18, and/or if
you are offended by this content, and/or if it is illegal in your
jurisdiction to possess or read such material, please leave now and do not
read this story as neither the internet host nor the author can be
responsible for your actions. Please, always practice safe sex; no
momentary thrill is worth your life.

This work is copyrighted (c) by Hans Schreiber. You may not reproduce this
story in whole or in part without the express written consent of Hans
Schreiber at h.schreiber@hushmail.com.

Special thanks to my editors, Flip, Smallfox, Lisa and Pablo for their
valuable assistance in making this story so much better.

Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 13

Trust and Consequence

	I woke up Sunday morning after a fitful night's rest on my bedroom
floor. When I stirred, old Sam thumped his tail a few times against the
carpet. I was confused at first as to exactly why I was on the floor
instead of in my soft bed with the silky sheets. When I spied the
children's book, "Alexander and his Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," I
remembered falling asleep reading it. I closed the book and placed it back
on my bookshelf. I considered going for a triple J, but I really wasn't in
the mood to run, and I hadn't arranged to meet up with Kirk since it was
Sunday. It seemed like it would be a letdown jiggling alone without him
there. I'd come to really enjoy sharing the experience. It was way better
doing it together, especially jacking each other's.

	I looked down at my limp dick and a depressing sullenness crept
over me as I relived the events of the prior night's bonfire. I wondered
how William was coping and what I could do to make it up to him. I tossed
my comforter back onto the bed, set the pillows against the wall and
crawled onto my silky sheets. I loved how they felt against my naked
body. They were cool and an involuntary shudder ran through me as I pressed
my backside against them. I nestled my head into one of the pillows and
closed my eyes. Slowly, my body heat absorbed the coolness in the sheets
and I settled into a comfortable position.

      My thoughts refocused on the bonfire, and I thought about how nicely
things had been going at first and how much fun William was having. I
cursed myself for abandoning him just for a chance to see Dig's boner. I
had to be honest with myself and admit that the only reason I followed
Bodie on that foolish camcorder mission was for a glimpse of Dig's odd
shaped dick. But if I hadn't gone, something far, far worse may have
happened.

	I conjured up the image of Dig's skinny, six inch dick with the
oversized, inflated head perched on top. It was pretty much how I'd
imagined it all along. I chuckled to myself as I recalled the way Bodie and
I were talking about two completely different things while I was describing
Dig's dick outside the window. I'm thankful I didn't completely give myself
away at the end of our chat. I'm pretty sure Bodie bought it when I said I
was thinking about sucking on Rochelle's clit.

      I reflected on feeling Dig's massive dickhead pressed against my
asshole as I prepared to get fucked by him on the bed. I could practically
feel it in my hand again as I thought about stroking him off after he
finished testing me. Sliding the skin of his unusual dick over the stiff,
yet narrow shaft and then up over the large, expanded dickhead was amazing.

	The memory was giving me an erection and I took a fist full of
Little Rock and began slow dancing with him. I remembered the way Dig's
mouth twitched and his body reacted to the pending orgasm under the
direction of my hand. He stiffened like a board from head to toe as if he
were trying to break free from the grasp of a wrestling opponent and then
shot his cum, spurt after spurt, until he was covered in his own
juice. Finally, I remembered the sweet taste of his thick cum. I rubbed my
tongue across the roof of my mouth a couple times wishing I could taste it
again now. I realized it was going to be difficult not to get hard around
him in the showers from now on. I'd probably end up being like banana boy,
Scotty, with a perpetual hard-on.

	I remembered how surprised I was that he was not only willing, but
insistent on returning the favor. I wondered if he possibly fantasized over
my dick the way I do over his. "Nah, probably not," I thought. I recalled
the image of his hard body kneeling in front of me between my legs. His
strong, firm grip encased my boner as I watched him working me over like a
pro. The memory evoked such powerful feelings, I was on the verge of
cumming right there on my bed. I love slow cums where the feeling builds
almost imperceptibly and then you realize you've reached the summit after a
slow and steady climb. I felt my muscles tense in anticipation of cresting
over the hill into the downhill side of my orgasm.

	I was so wrapped up in the experience that I didn't even hear him
coming. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until the end of his sentence when
my brain finally registered the presence of my dad's voice. "Blah, blah,
blah ... laundry," was all I heard. Panic overtook me and I frantically
grabbed at my comforter to hide my erection. It lay twisted and did not
readily provide the camouflage I sought.

	"Oh Kyle, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were ... excuse me, I'll
leave and let you, umm, finish. Oh, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have just
walked in." My father backed out of my bedroom before I could even find any
words to speak. At least I hadn't cummed yet. The head on my shoulders
turned as dark crimson in color as the head on my dick already was. I was
surprised there was enough blood in my system to fill them both up. It took
me a minute longer before my brain registered that my father had also been
naked. That seemed to compound my embarrassment somehow, though I'm not
sure why.

	  When the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment subsided, I
contemplated what I should do. I'd been ripped out of the moment now and
the fantasy of Dig jacking me off had been shattered. Still, I had my pent
up teenage desire and needed a release. I was certainly safe from any more
intrusions, judging from my father's own display of embarrassment when he
caught me in the act. His embarrassment appeared almost equal to my own. I
decided, however, to satisfy my curiosity and abandon my jack-off session
for now and go see what he wanted. I also wanted to find out why he was
naked. My dick had mostly shrunk, and I decided that I could finish later
on in the shower.

	I pulled on a pair of boxers and some Nike shorts and made my way
downstairs. I checked in all the likely spots but couldn't find him. As the
last place to look, I walked down the hallway to his bedroom and I heard
him calling my mother's name out and talking to her, though she wasn't
answering. I paused, wondering if she'd come back and if that was what he
wanted to tell me. I worried they might be arguing. I didn't want any part
of that. Still, I wondered why he'd been naked. "Maybe ..." I thought,
"Maybe they're doing it." The door was ajar and curiosity overwhelmed
me. They say curiosity killed the cat, and it certainly killed me at the
previous night's bonfire. But hey, a cat's got nine lives, so I figured I
had eight more to go.

	I crept up on the bedroom door and my stomach fluttered in nervous
anticipation with each step. The closer I got, I realized my dad was
definitely talking in the middle of his making love to my mom. I could hear
the steady pace of the bed springs squeaking. He was telling her how much
he missed her and apologized for letting the love between them go stale. He
expressed how wonderful it was to be back inside her, so intimately
connected again after so many years of going without.

      "Oh my God," I thought, "YEARS!" I felt so bad for him being cut off
that long. But the idea that they were doing it together again after years
was incredibly exciting. Could it be possible that my parents would
reconcile and mom might come back a changed woman? Maybe she realized what
an ass she'd been and she and dad could rekindle the kind of passion I
witnessed between Scotty's parents. Maybe she missed us. I stood at the
door and just listened and considered it might be better if I just left
them be. Somehow, though, I just had to take a peek.

	I carefully pushed the bedroom door open a little more, just wide
enough to take in the scene on the bed. What I saw shocked and saddened me
to the core. My father was in his bed intensely engaged in fucking all
right, but not with my mother. I stood and stared in overpowering sorrow as
my father spoke tenderly in concert with his steady and determined humping
motion. His flat, bare ass rose and fell as he spoke gently and
tenderly. After watching for a couple of minutes completely unnoticed, I
was just ready to leave when he cried out and plunged in deeply, obviously
unloading his seed. I just stood there in shocked awe and watched him do
it. He collapsed in his post orgasmic phase and lay there heavily,
regaining his breath. Then, he did the saddest, most pathetic thing I think
I may ever witness in my whole life; he tenderly kissed the silky pillow
he'd just finished fucking, called it by mother's name and expressed his
sincere love to it. I crept backwards into the hall and retreated to my
room.

	I did not think I could dislike my mother any more than I already
did, but now I was on the verge of hatred. I was so saddened by what I'd
just witnessed. I was shaking and I just wanted to scream. I was so sad for
my dad. I pulled on my running shoes and a t-shirt and ran down the stairs
and out the door. Thinking better of it, I went back in and left my dad a
note that I would be right back after a short run then headed back out the
door. I ran down the sidewalk to the street, out the gate, and onto the
road. I ran full speed until I reached the dirt road. I slowed a bit, and
then I ran down the overgrown trail until I came to my secret spot. I
walked in small circles until my heart rate settled into a manageable
pace. I filled my lungs with air and I SCREAMED! I screamed at my mother
and I cried out obscenities on behalf of my poor father, and then I
screamed some more.

	 I kicked the fallen log until my foot hurt and then I pounded on
it until my fists hurt. I grieved the loss of my mother. I grieved the loss
of my parent's happiness. I grieved over my father's pain. I screamed at
the assholes that harassed poor William and I screamed at myself for
leaving him alone. Then, I was done. I was numb and I felt spent. I lay
prone, lengthwise on the log, staring at the blue sky overhead and
panting. Scattered grey clouds with streaks of blackness at their edges
moved ominously across the sky. They were headed off to rain on someone's
parade somewhere, I imagined. I suppose if I did drugs, now would be a time
that I would choose to escape from reality. I didn't though and never
would. If I drank, now would be the ideal time to get sloppy drunk, but I
don't even do that. So, I did the one thing that I actually do use to
escape reality.

      I stood and stripped off all my clothes, then lay back down on the
log naked. With my left hand I cupped and squeezed my balls tighter than
usual while I stroked my five inch erection with dogged
determination. There was no fantasy involved at this point; it was strictly
a matter of business. I stroked firm and steady and watched in clinical
fascination as my dickhead expanded ever so slightly with the onset of that
special feeling. I escaped into the momentary rush of endorphins while
spilling my sperm in desperate need.

	My asshole clenched and my face contorted as the first of my
copious sperm erupted from my slit and splashed onto my chest. Six shots
later, I slowed down to a mere bubbling discharge coating my glans, my
hand, and puddling in my pubes. Until I recently started engaging in real
life sexual activity with other guys, I had no idea that I produced such
prodigious quantities of sperm. The mystical molten magma erupted and
flowed from me like Vesuvius. Having only porno vids to compare to, I
assumed everyone generated the same quantity as me. Now that I'd seen Dig's
cumshot, Bodie's spilling of his load onto the ranch cabin wall, and Kirk's
average sized production during our morning jiggles, I came to realize that
I produced an enormous amount of the stuff. There was also William's small
display to compare to (although I don't think his really counts given his
medical situation). Maybe that's why the persistent need to unload it is
pretty much always on my mind.

	As I came down off my sexual high, I began to slip into a post
erotic stress depression. I recognized it. I've endured it's nastiness for
most of my life. Guilty feelings over the fantasies that accompany my
masturbation sessions are all too familiar. This time, the depression
wasn't triggered by guilt, but rather by sympathy over my father's sad
experience. I've kind of gotten over the guilt trip from my fantasies since
I've sort of accepted that I like doing sex stuff with guys. But now, I
took the opportunity to beat myself up over the psychological damage I'd
caused poor William. I loathed my mother and what I really felt guilty for
this time was indulging myself with a sexual fix while everyone around me
was so sad. I sopped up the slimy mess on my upper body with my t-shirt and
pulled my boxers and shorts back on. I kicked and slugged the immovable log
one more time in penance for my selfish indulgence and ran home.

	I found my father vacuuming the family room, and he was still
completely naked. He stopped and turned off the vacuum when he saw me come
in. "Kyle," he began, "I'm really and truly sorry I interrupted you
earlier. I mean, I know you know that I know, that you ... well, that you
... you know. But, even though I know you know that I know, it still
doesn't make it any less embarrassing when you get caught ... doing you
know what."

	I just broke out in laughter. It sort of erupted out of me, after
the ridiculousness of his little speech. The inappropriate laughter was
just as uncontrollable as erupting cum is after passing the point of no
return in a jack-off session. "That's the lamest apology I ever heard. I
know that you know that I know that you know that I know you do you know
what," I said in mockery and then erupted in laughter again. As my dad
heard his words parroted back, he found them equally amusing. "But no
worries, dad. I actually do know that you know that I, you know what. I was
embarrassed about getting caught at it, but after I really thought about
it, what's the big deal that you saw me doing it? I'm pretty sure you also
engage in a little "you know what" now and then, so if I ever catch you at
it, we'll just call it even, okay?"

	"Sounds like a deal."

	"So now please explain why are you vacuuming the house naked?"

	"Well that's partially your fault."

	"My fault? How is it my fault?"

	"Well, you got me started on the whole nudity thing, and I actually
find I enjoy it. There is an immense freedom involved with it. I spend so
much time stuffed into my white shirt and tie and doctor's lab coat, it's
just extremely liberating to wear nothing at all around the house. If
you're okay with it, I want to keep it up."

	"That's cool I guess. I like being naked too, I can't lie. But you
said it's partially my fault, what's the other part?"

	"Oh, well that's the part I came up to your room to discuss with
you. We need to do some laundry. We haven't done any since your mother left
and I've run completely out of clean underwear. I was hoping you knew how
to go about it. I have no idea."

	"Nope, I have no idea either. Mom always just did it. I think you
have to wash white stuff separately from colored stuff, though. I just
remember a kid on my team showing up in pink underwear and he claimed they
just got washed with a red shirt."

	"I know that much myself. I'm just not sure of anything else. I
have no idea how much soap to add or what else you put in the machine. I'm
finding out there's a lot of things that your mother did. We're falling
behind in keeping this big place up. Maybe we should move to a smaller
house or even a nice apartment."

	"I don't care if we move, but we have to stay within the school
boundaries. I'm not changing high schools." I emphasized the NOT part.

	We sat down and figured out a cleaning schedule and divided up the
duties. Neither of us wanted the place to turn into a frat house or
bachelor pad. Looking at the list, though, we figured we needed to hire a
maid for at least a couple times per week. Between my school and wrestling
schedule and his work schedule there was just no way to get all the stuff
done. "Too bad we couldn't hire William's mom to come clean for us. It
would be a better job than the part time one she has."

	"I wouldn't be opposed to that if she were interested," said my
father. "Why don't you talk to her and see if she is willing when you go
over there next."

	"Oh, well, I'm not so sure I'll ever be going back over."

	"Why not? Did something happen between you two?"

	"Oh dad, I should have listened to you. I took him to the bonfire
and everything was going great. Then I left him alone for just a short time
and some of Hawk's drunken buddies started messing with him. They pantsed
him in front of the whole crowd and he freaked out. He was very mad at me
for leaving him alone, and I've been beating myself up over it."

	"Oh Kyle, I was concerned about this. People like William struggle
in social situations. He can't distinguish between stupid fun and serious
intent. He takes everything literally and usually boys like him are very
private. He has had a very trying period in his life and I'm sure it was
extremely traumatic for him. It's unusual that he was comfortable enough
with you to let you into his private life as much as he did."

	"So what should I do?"

	"I think you just explain that you made a mistake and you're
sorry. Accept the blame and ask him to forgive you. He may or he may not."

	"Should I go over to his house or just wait for him to come back to
school."

	"I'll leave that up to your judgment."

	"I just don't know. Maybe he needs some time to get over it."

	"How about this, we work together to get this place back in shape
and do some laundry while you think about it. If you decide to go, I'll
drop you off when I go to the hospital for rounds later this afternoon."

	"Deal," I agreed. I went to my bedroom and gathered up all the
clothes from my basket and the overflow pile on the floor. I pulled the
clothing I was wearing off and added it to the pile. I hauled it all to the
laundry room in two trips and checked out the washing machine. I jotted
down the make and model and pulled up information on its operation off of
the internet. I located the soap and the liquid fabric softener and then
spent about thirty minutes sorting dad's and my clothing into compatible
piles, remaining naked. My dad smiled at me when he saw I had matched his
nudity. He started singing some old song from his youth by some guy named
Joe Walsh that was pretty funny.

      "I got the all night Laundromat blues. Washing everything I own
except my shoes," he sang out loudly. I laughed at him but I had to admit,
the nudity thing really was very liberating. I was surprised how okay it
felt with us just hanging out naked together. My large balls dangled and
swung freely as I worked and it felt really cool. Between loads of laundry,
I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor. I picked up stray glasses and
dishes from around the house and I even scrubbed two toilets. My father
cleaned his own bathroom.

	At last, the final load was out of the dryer and I peeled the
Bounce fabric softener sheet off of the pants leg of my jeans. I wasn't
sure if I was supposed to use the liquid kind and the dryer sheets so I did
just to be safe. All had gone well with my washing adventure; nothing had
been dyed the wrong color, and I had folded or hung up all the clothes. I
pressed this final batch of warm clothing against my naked torso and
enjoyed the warmth of the freshly dried shirts and socks on my body.

	My cell phone rang and I was surprised to see it was Scotty. I
picked it up off the dresser and unplugged it from the charger. "Hey dude,
I thought you were out running around naked in the forest."

	"Hah, I was but we're back home now."

	"Did you have fun?"

	"Yeah, it was okay, but I was wishing you and Kirk could have
come."

	"Could we really? Like, is it allowed?"

	"Yeah, but the problem is that a parent has to go with you on the
first time and sign off that it's okay for you to join the club."

	"My dad might do that."

	"Seriously?"

	"Yeah, I think so. We've kind of started hanging out naked around
the house some. I'm actually naked right now and folding clothes while I'm
talking to you. We've both been doing chores all afternoon in the
buff. Weird, huh?"

	"No, it's not weird. I'm a nudist remember. That's normal. That's
pretty cool. You liking it?"

      "Yeah, I really am. It's awesome being so free feeling and like
liberated. My dad likes it too," I said.

      "So, I talked to Kirk and I had to call you and tell you how sorry I
feel for the way things turned out at Bodie's bonfire with William and
all. That really sucks."

	"Oh wow, thanks. It was so awful, dude. I feel horrible for
William. I let him down so much. I have no idea how he's coping. It was so
traumatic and he wouldn't even talk about it on the way home."

	"Well, I was worried about you, dude. I know how much you care
about him. I mean you passed up sex with my sister to go visit him
even. When I heard about what happened, I thought about how sad it must
have made you. So you haven't talked to him about it?"

	"No; like I told you, he just kept saying 'you lied to me,' and
'you left me alone,' over and over again."

	"Dude, I'm so sorry for you. Are you gonna be okay?"

	"Yeah, I guess. I'm just really sad over it all. I just want him to
forgive me and trust me again."

	"Well you need to go talk to him right away. Today."

	"I don't know. I'm thinking he needs some time to get over it."

	"No, I'm telling you, the sooner you go, the more he'll believe you
mean it."

	"You really think so? He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow and
then he'll be back at school on Tuesday and by that time, he may have
gotten over some of the hurt of it."

	"Bad idea. You need a private setting. I really think you need to
go now. You said he got you into praying right?"

	"Yeah. So?"

	"So pray about it and follow your feelings."

	"I don't know. I mean I just started the whole praying thing. I'm
not sure I'd trust myself to recognize an answer from God."

	"Okay, this is an order from your captain, get on your knees and
pray about it and follow whatever feeling you get."

	"Aye-aye captain," I said with a chuckle.

	"Well, I gotta go help unload the camping shit from our trip. Hang
in there, dude. I hope it all works out between you and William."

	"Thanks. I appreciate your call and your thoughtfulness. Seriously,
that was nice of you to think about me."

	"Sure. We're Screw Crew now, right? Gotta have each other's backs
you said."

	"Yeah, we're crew, but you went above the call of duty
here. Thanks."

	"No problem, dude. Later." Scotty hung up and I plugged my phone
back in. I folded the last of the t-shirts and matched up the socks. There
were two of them with no mates. I used to blame mom for losing my socks,
but I guess it wasn't her. "Where the hell do they go?" I wondered.

	Then, I knelt beside my bed, clasped my hands and bowed my
head. "Dear God, I hope you don't mind my being naked. William says you
don't. I have a problem that I guess you know about. I feel so bad for
William and I want to make it up to him. Can you help me? Can you help him
know I didn't mean that to happen last night and that I care about him?
Help me know if I should go talk to him now or if I should
wait. Thanks. Amen."

	I stayed still for a minute and as if someone were standing behind
me, a voice spoke in my mind. "GO NOW! He needs you now!" It caused chills
to run through me it was so powerful and clear. I knew for sure what I
needed to do. I jumped up and put my clothes away in my room then carried
my father's folded clothing downstairs to his room.

	"Hey dad, anything else we need to do?"

	"Just find something to eat. I appreciate all your help. It feels
great to get all this stuff done," he said with an appreciative smile.

	I fixed my dad and me a fancy salad for dinner with Romaine,
Spinach, shredded almonds, dried cranberries, mandarin orange slices and a
fat free Chinese peanut oil dressing. We chatted freely about all sorts of
things as we sat at the kitchen table eating. We discussed everything from
politics, to religion, to William and my problem with him, to medicine, and
to my future, completely naked and completely comfortable with it. I was
reminded of my naked dining experience at the Simon's household and
considered telling my father about it, but decided not to for no
particularly good reason. After dinner, my dad chauffeured me over to
William's place and dropped me off. I waved goodbye to him as he headed
off, stuffed back inside of his doctor's uniform, to check on his patients.

	I took a deep breath and knocked. The barnacle opened the door. He
was beer-less but clearly under the influence. "What the fuck do you want?"

	"I came to see William."

	"He ain't here, so you can just fuck off, you miserable little
shithead. After the stunt you pulled last night, I can't believe you got
the nerve to show your face here."

	"What stunt?"

	"Don't play stupid, doctor's brat! You drug William to that little
party and set him up for humiliation. Did all your little rich buddies get
a good laugh out of the freak? The pathetic loser blubbered all about it
half the night, until I made him shut the fuck up."

	"Listen asshole! I actually care about William. He's a wonderful,
sweet, bright person in spite of the useless, miserable piece of shit he's
got for a father. I wanted the party to be a positive experience for
William, but things got ugly while I was distracted. I feel horrible for it
and I want to apologize and make it up to him. You don't deserve such a
fine son."

	"Piss off! And don't come back! You're not welcome here. Ever! The
last thing William needs is some rich faggot preying on him. He's already
fucked up enough." The barnacle slammed the door in my face. I was
incensed. I thought about pounding on the door until he opened it again and
then smashing my fists into his ugly face and blackening both of his
bloodshot eyes.  Instead, I stormed out of the trailer park and sat on the
curb fuming. The kid with the rattling, old bicycle came up to me and
stopped. I paid him no attention, but he spoke to me anyway.

	"You're weird Willy's friend, huh?"

	I just looked up at him and nodded, yes.

	"He's not home. He went to church with his mom like every
Sunday. His dad's an asshole, huh? I hate it when he's mean to Willy."

	Now he had my attention. "What do you mean?"

	"When his mom's not home, his dad locks him out sometimes and Willy
sits on the steps and cries a lot. I let him come over to my house and eat
lunch with me if he gets real hungry. Sometimes I hear his old man yelling
mean things at him too. But the worst part is when he hurts Willy and I
hear him begging his old man to stop doing it to him."

	"Doing what to him?"

	"I don't know. Willy just says nothing."

	"People around here know he abuses William and they don't call the
cops?" I asked incredulous.

	"My mom tried before, but the cops don't do nothing cuz Willy tells
them nothing happened, and he don't got no marks on him anywhere."

	Now I really did want to kill the bastard. Now it was time to
scrape the miserable barnacle off for good and destroy him. I remembered
how William evaded my question about whether his old man abused him by
telling me about the barnacle having the largest penis of any organism. The
possible correlation of the parable sickened me. I feared the worst but
hoped I was wrong. I wondered if it also explained William's quick judgment
that I was gay. I worried just how horrible his old man really was. I
pulled my phone and sent my father a text.

	"You know what church they go to?" I asked the kid.

	"Yeah, same one we go to sometimes. Mostly just at Christmas and
Easter. It's the one with the big white cross out front down on Maple
Street."

	"Thanks, kid."

	"For what?"

	"For letting me know what's going on with Willy. I want to help
him."

	"Oh good. But how?"

	"I have an idea." The boy smiled and rode off when he saw some
playmates down the street.

	My father replied that he was able to finish up quickly and come
get me. He asked if I was safe and I answered that I was, but to please
hurry; I needed his help with something important.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

This is the end of the chapter. I apologize for the delay in getting this
chapter out, I got involved in finishing up my other story, Just Like
Scott. Now that it is done, I can devote more time to this story. Thanks
for your patience. If you have comments, I welcome them, please email me at
h.schreiber@hushmail.com