Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 15:27:03 -0800 (PST)
From: T Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Out In The Wild, Wild West 10

The following story is a work of fiction set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If
sexual scenes involving male to male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this by law. This is fiction. Don't forget, in real
life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'; got
condom?

"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 10
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

What started as an all out double fuck fest, began to
wind down. The fucking that is, but for the eurphoria
that spread around the camp, the indian braves broke
into their reserves of seized pleasures, downing
bottle upon bottle of whiskey. In their quest for
pleasure, they mistook Stormy and Jake for members of
the tribe and took them out by the campfire, offering
them drink. Manning the primitive drums, a party
ensued, by which both Stormy and Jake imbibed on the
offering of liquid refreshment.

"Hey look, Stormy! I'm doing my first raindance!" Jake
shouted, a bottle in one hand.

Shaking his booty around the high flames, licking at
the moon, Jake's cock and balls bounced along with the
others, as they made merry.

However, two had been left behind in the tipi. There,
arms stretched high up, tied to the top posts, James
West and Cheyenne Bodie sat on their knees, weighing
their bodies down. Even though Cheyenne weighed in at
two hundred and fifteen pounds, his sharp ribs stood
out from his six foot three inch bear frame. Both men
knelt in a pool of cum, as it continued to leak from
their used asses.

%

"You're a most superb actor," Artemis spoke, in
admiration, fixing his tie.

Lying back, in bed, J.J. Sebastien lay, hands behind
his head, flaunting his twenty-one year old body. His
smile showed the contenment of their hot sexual play
from the previous evening.

"Oh? Got news for you Artemis," J.J. said, waiting for
a response.

It came in the form of a smile, reflected in the
mirror.

Then Artemis replied, "News?"

"That wasn't acting."

Artemis remained cool, that cocky smile adorning his
face. To everyone else, he might look like he has it
together, but to J.J., he knew the real truth. By day,
Artemis reflected the 'no shit Sherlock' pose, but
when under the unfluence of his young master, Gordon
shrunk down into a meek submissive toy.

With a favorable implication, Artemis replied, "That's
why I always look you up when you're in town!"

Artie dropped a cufflink, bending down to search for
it.

"Ah, here's the little devil!" He said out loud.

Turning, still on his knees, his head came face to
face with the 9.5c that had been implanted in his
rear, for most of the night. The twenty-one year old's
hand remained wrapped around it, the base of his hand
moving against his hairy pubes, as the sides of his
index finger and thumb stroked under the flange.

"I really don't have time for this."

But before the thirty-three year old could think,
J.J.'s hand latched onto his dark brown head of hair
and forced his face into his pubic region.

"Yeah... oh yeah," J.J. groaned, as Artemis took the
hint, opening his mouth and taking him deep into the
recesses of his throat.

He sensed Artie's contentment as well, as the older
man's groaning vibrated his cock.

"Yeah... yeah... eat me, daddy," J.J. coaxed him on.

Further appeasement surmounted, as J.J. felt Artemis'
hands rub his thighs, then caress his two ass cheeks,
massaging the deep crevice. After time passed, J.J.
pulled out of Artemis' mouth.

"See what you gone and done, daddy?"

Artemis, still kneeling, waited for more of a clue to
J.J.'s intentions.

"I'm waiting," J.J. replied, now lying back down in
the bed.

Here, Artemis more than communicated his intentions of
needing to make haste to end their one nighter.
However, J.J.'s sopping wet shaft, now being stroked,
to keep it erect, tempted Artemis beyond his will. He
began disassembling his dressy outfit, beginning with
the tie he just fastened around his neck.

"And oh, Artemis?"

"Yes....Sir?"

"Before you begin sucking me, bring the belt?"

Artemis, standing there, totally in the buff, hands on
his hips, flaunting that hairy, bear body, looked at
J.J., as if calling his bluff. Last night, he had used
the belt to whip J.J.'s ass into fucking condition.
Now he looked upon the request as a get even tactic.
However, more than anything he yearned to submit, as
he eyed up that tall impaling tool. His ass ached to
have it invaded. Retrieving it from the floor, he
tossed it on the bed, the buckle bouncing off of
J.J.'s stomach.

"You'll pay for that!" J.J. warned Artemis, waiting
for a response, of reluctance, that didn't come.

Artemis crawled up on the bed. Automatically J.J.
spread his legs, revealing his hairy thighs.

"You can start by licking my balls."

"Don't push your luck," Artemis dared to say.

"Don't push my hand," J.J. made the argument plain,
winding the belt buckle around his hand, readying the
long, leather talon.

Artemis sank to his belly, as his mouth enveloped
J.J.'s 9.5c. J.J. felt a new sensation, as the length
of the belt struck directly down Artemis' back.
Several grunts followed, as he picked the belt up and
flung it down. Not once did teeth touch his cock.

%

Morning had risen on the plains, as well. The brave's
camp remained quiet, except for some local birds.

"Ugh..." Stormy let out, trying to move.

Lying on a piece of buffalo hide, he tried to move,
but something kept him from pushing up off of the
ground. Looking over his shoulder, his head bopped
into Jake's head.

"Huh?" he said to himself.

It's at that moment after impact that he remembered
sort of what happened last night. His head sunk back
down into the furry hide. He smiled when he felt
Jake's breath blowing on his back. Sensing things a
bit lower, he tried to move his waist. He giggled to
himself, remembering the conversation last night.

"Oh shit! Haa ha ha ha ha haaaa!" Stormy laughed to
himself, remembering how Jake had questioned him about
having that wooden stake up his ass.

Keeping up his humor, even though he had a headache
from the indians' firewater, Stormy thought about how
Jake had beat around the bush for the longest time,
til he dared him to penetrate his ass with his long
pole. It wasn't as long now, but that pole still
helped anchor Stormy's ass to the ground.

"Heey! Hey, Jake!" Stormy said, patting Jake with the
palm of his hand.

"Huh? Oooooooh.."

Both nineteen year olds groaned, as Jake ground his
pubes against Stormy's ass.

"Oooooh, my head," Jake said.

"Which one?" Stormy joked, but really refered to the
one that still grazed his ass chute.

Half alert, Jake did a pushup, balancing his body on
his pubes. Looking down his muscled abs, til he set
eyes on his treasure trail, greeting Stormy's tight
thin hairy bellyhole trail, he stare, as if not
believing.

"I can't..." he gulped, then continued, "believe it!"

Stormy giggled again and replied, one hand poised up
on his palm, as his elbow leisurely rested on the
hide, "My ass can believe it!"

Going to his knees, his deflated cock exited his
companion's ass chute. The small, mushroom head popped
out and then resumed it's lanky posture, swinging
around.

"Wow!"

Stormy began laughing his ass off, as he now turned,
flipping his body over, faced up, under Jake's
suspended chest. Reaching upwards with both hands, he
didn't give Jake a chance to realize it, his palms
against Jake's shoulder blades, pulling him towards
him.

"Umpfff!" Stormy grunted, expectant of the non
resistant Jake, falling, melding their bodies as one.

"Ooooh my head hurts so bad!"

"Some romantic 'you' turned out to be!"

As Jake thought more about his head, Stormy began
pampering him. He rolled Jake more on his side, his
body adhering to the side stance. Using the hand not
caressing his body, he pawed the light brown locks
away from Jake's face.

"God, you're beautiful!"

"Huh?"

Behaving more like in a drunk stupor, like being
totally wasted last night, Jake couldn't help but
ignore half of what Stormy said to him.

"What'd ya say, Storm?"

Knowing the fog Jake had himself in, Stormy smiled.

"Jake, you believe in love at first sight?"

"Do you believe I feel totally wasted?"

Stormy gave up on being romantic. Instead, he flung
Jake off of himself and got up.

"Where you goin', Stormy?"

"Where you're going'!"

Bending over, Stormy took Jake's right hand in his,
like he was going to shake it politely. Instead, he
pulled mightily on it, yanking Jake to his feet. His
six foot frame hauled Jake upwards, catching his
stomach about on his shoulder.

"Heeeeeeeey, whatcha doin' Stormy?"

He didn't respond, but with a few giggles. Rushing out
of the tipi, he headed for the little stream, faster
than a Pony Express rider. Before Jake knew what was
happening, he lay flat on his back on the coarse
pebbles, water cascading over him.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooshiiiiiiiiit! It's cold!"

With a knee on Jake's stomach, Stormy's hand held
Jake's chest down, as he tried to squirm free.

"Just what you need, my little friend!"

Stormy did outmatch Jake in height by an inch, weight
by ten pounds, cock size half inch. Even though he
seemed more the bear cub, to Jake's muscular physique,
he won hands down, at trying to subdue the muscle man.


However, slowly Jake began to gain the edge. Stormy
wasn't giving in, but his then slid down into the
water, his crack mounting Jake's right leg. His hand
and knee released Jake.

"What? Whatcha lookin' at Stormy?"

Slowly Stormy rose up, looking at the top of the
riverbed. Sitting up, Jake looked up. Again Stormy was
offering his hand. He took it.

As Jake stood, he again inquired, "What're you lookin'
at, Stormy?"

"They're all gone."

"Who?"

"The indian guys."

"Huh?"

"My father...."

"Hey, wait for me Stormy!" Jake called out, as he ran
after Stormy, bolting towards the place at the camp
where they raised hell last night.

Catching up to Stormy rather quickly, Jake looked in
the same direction his head pointed in. There, at the
same frame Steve Connors' body had been trussed up
eagle-spread, ropes dangled freely.

"What you suppose happened to him, Stormy?"

Turning around, Stormy's head hung down.

"I dunno."

"Where do you think they all went?"

"I dunno," Stormy replied, his body moving closer to
Jake's.

Not one to show affection, Jake now seemed forced into
showing something. Doing something, as gesture. He
reached around Stormy, but delayed placing his hands
to his body. Last night Stormy had detected the
reluctance in Jake, to do anything 'touchy'. In fact,
it bewildered Stormy, when Jake made the decision to
fuck his ass. He attributed the action to the consumed
elixir. Even though he, himself, had imbibed of the
powerful whiskey, Stormy held it pretty good, as
opposed to Jake who whooped it up, like the braves.
Of course Stormy loved the ass massage. With the
sweeping emotions over his father, Stormy felt a need
for the human touch. Moving closer, he threw a strong
suggestion to Jake, that he wanted to be held. Slowly
Jake took the hint and lay his hands on Stormy's
bareback. The two held each other.

"James West!" Jake called out, suddenly breaking their
embrace.

"Yeah, I just wonder," Stormy seconded it, snapping
his fingers.

The two ran to the tipi where they last saw Jim and
Cheyenne. However, their natural high flatlined, as
they peered into the empty tipi. However, the two did
find something welcoming. Their clothing.

"Want to take that along?" Jake said to Stormy.

After dressing, Stormy had picked up the knobbed stake
that had been implanted in his ass.

Even in the face of anxiety, Stormy could half joke,
saying to Jake, "Nah. Don't need a wooden substitute,
when I got the real thing!"

Dropping the sticky pole, Stormy embraced Jake once
more.

"Stormy, I'm not real good at this man loving stuff."

"Yeah, I realize that, Jake. Don't worry though. It'll
grow on you. I'll see to it!"

With his hands brushing Jake's hair, Stormy reinforced
the tuteledge, bringing his lips to Jake's.

%

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Hastiin cried out, as the whip
struck his shoulders.

The trail through the desert had been composed of a
long line of men. Some captives, others leading the
bound, pushing them on towards their destination.

Leading the procession had been the oldest of the
indian braves, thirty-two year old Hastiin. Bound up,
his loincloth clad body set the pace for the others.
All of the men, braves, Steve Connors, James West and
Cheyenne Bodie carried a long piece of wood on their
shoulders, by which their biceps and wrists had been
tethered to. With arms stretched upwards, their backs
became perfect targets for the lash, if they dared
slow down. However, all received a minimum amount of
attention, with the exception of Hastiin.

Behind him, to his left, the leader of the brigade
followed close behind the brave. Standing six feet and
five inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds, the
massive black man wielded His long, leather whip,
swinging it back and then tormenting Hastiin's back,
accompanied by an evil laugh. More than once he fell
to his knees. It gave the black overseer the chance to
wreak even further havoc, kicking him between the
legs, then grabbing him by his hair to pull him back
into place, upright.

Kachada made the mistake of saying something, directed
at the one whipping Hastiin. Even though it had been
in a foreign dialect, the two white men guiding the
procession, at this interval, questioned the audacity.

"Look like we got ourselves a smart injun here," a
tall, dark-haired cowpoke said.

"The lot of 'em are a bunch of no goods."

He looked along the path, as if seeing whom watched
them. Turning, he faced Kachada. He smiled at the
indian, then put both hands on the pole and lifted his
knee into the twenty-five year old chieftan's crotch.

"Uggggggggghhhhaahhhhhhhhh!" Kachada cried out,
falling to his knees.

The awkward movement, arms tied to the pole, the left
side digging into the earth, made way for Kachada's
abs open for to receive further assault. The cowboy
heaved the tip of his boot into Kachada's stomach.

"Oooooogggggaaaaa," the brave cried out, as his lungs
expelled his air rapidly.

On the offensive, Inteus, whom had been in front of
Kachada, swung himself around. The side of the pole he
carried, hit the tortmentor in the side of the head.

A fight broke out, more of the braves joining in with
the riff raff, manueovering their bound arms as best
they knew how, to undermind the opposition. Some of
the braves seemed quite agile at using the only weapon
available. At first, their captors sought out the
assault as entertainment.

Even though, a day ago, James West would have been
considered the underdog, he went at it, siding with
the indian braves. Steve Connors saw a better
advantage, when he spotted Cheyenne back away towards
the wooded area. He followed the buffalo hunter's
lead, bending his torso in different directions, in
which to cause the shoulder binding pole to evade bush
and tree limbs. Possibly the indian braves, much like
their big party last night, saw this as play. West
figured the same with their aggressors. Seeing the
absence of Cheyenne and Steve Connors, he followed
suit, ducking out of the fray. Sleek, like that of a
coy animal, he too disappeared into the jungle at the
side of the desert, before it met the hilly region.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Jim cried out.

He didn't see it coming, not that his aggressor wanted
his presence known.

"Ooooooooooooooh," Jim moaned, on his knees.

At the impact of the fist, gutting him above the
navel, he collapsed, the pole across his shoulders,
behind his neck, causing a more rapid movement, to
bring his downfall.

"And where on earth did you think you could go, to
escape me, West?"

Jerking back James' head, by his dark brown mane,
Robert Birch stood, peering at his former bedmate.
Jim still tried to gain equillibrium from the hard
fist contact. Birch smiled, slowly moving his head
downwards. Bending, his lips touched West's.

However, James didn't see this as the opportune moment
for making out. Shimmying to the side, the pole, to
which his arms and wrists had been bound, moved
quickly and to it's target. Birch's zipper area.

"Ugghhhhhhhhhahhhhhhhhoohhhhooohhhooohhh!"

Rising up from the dirt, Jim actually got a jolt of
laughter, watching Robert holding his crotch with two
hands, dancing about before crumbling to a half
standing position. He didn't hover about too long,
before his mind thought of 'escape'.

Quickly, he found a tree composed of rough bark. He
knew that if he could gnaw the end of the rope, it
would come free, giving him the advantage of
dismantling the apparatus containing his freedom.

A secondary thought, running loose, around and around
in James West's mind, had been the reason for the cat
and mouse game Robert Birch played with him. Thirdly,
he knew Birch to be a tough character. Why wasn't
Birch on him already? He kept up his guard.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuckin' shit!" Birch cried out.

Again, James laughed his ass off, stepping aside from
the rough bark tree. Birch had tried delivering a
punch to Jim's lower back, when he moved out of the
way. Struggling like mad, this gave West the time to
weasel out of his bondage. The motivation had already
presented itself; get Birch before he recovers.

Like a panther, James used his Secret Service
abilities to subdue Birch, quickly grabbing him from
the rear, putting him in a full nelson.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Birch cried out, as West bent his
body backwards.

"Feels good, huh?" West joked, resounding in a
sadistic manner.

Birch yelled back, "Out of character for you, Mr.
West, isn't it?"

Even though, for the past few days, his mind had been
busy on other things, he never lost the thoughts of
what he would do if he ever caught up to Birch again.
He never realised Birch's intentions, bound at his
mercy, Birch's ten inches of cut meat forced up his
ass. At first he figured him and his captor's session
as a one time bdsm gathering. But when the cuffs
remained, he had other thoughts. With the trail of
indians, Steve Conners, even Cheyenne, the picture
wasn't totally clear. Was he part of a slave ring or
was Birch working for someone else? He needed answers
and there wasn't much time to find out.

For sure, the others would be coming to look for Birch
and he, so West managed to lace Birch's wrists behind
his back, with the same cord from his own bondage.

"What the fuck?"

"Time for a little fun of my own, Birch!"

Keeping the upbeat humor, Jim, still naked as an
indian, without the loincloth, forced Birch from the
clearing. He pushed him through the woods. Then he got
an idea, when a twig hurt his foot.

"Owwch..oooh...oooh..oh!"

He had Birch leaning against a boulder, while he
pulled a boot from his foot.

"Oh c'mon West," Birch alluded to even a humorous
approach, "you can take much more than that!"

With his hands bound behind his back, the thirty-seven
year old bear used his words as a sword. As Jim loosed
the boot half way off, his other hand steadied Birch's
leg. Halfway is all it took, plus the hand on his
enemy's leg, to make his cock stir.

Birch laughed out, toying, "Oh, I'd say you want more
than my boot, James!"

Jim looked at the grin crossing Birch's face, then his
eyes darted down to the clothed bulge in Birch's
pants. Even though Jim knew the truth, his eyes shot
to his own crotch.

"C'mon West. Give it up. There's only one man made, to
ride your ass!"

It's as if reality faded, his surging cock and
churning balls taking over his mind, ruling it. He
licked his lips, his tongue remaining on the upper
left portion of his lip. Forgotten was the reason he
held Birch captive, as his ass twitched, as if it had
a memory center of it's own.

"You want it, West," Birch gestured, pertaining to his
own pent up erection, "go for it, West. Daddy bear
needs it as bad as you do, West. C'mon. Desert can get
mighty dry. C'mon, West, take a nice long drink!"

Birch's thespian skills paid off, making his cock
sound like a deep, cool well, filled with nourishment,
waiting for Jim's lips to caress it and draw out it's
wet refreshment. Jim, too far gone, believed the words
pouring from Birch's mouth.

"Yeah, but not here," Jim said, snapping out of his
reverie somewhat.

"Nobody's going to bother us, James. You're mine."

Puzzlement overtook Jim. Here, he was the one in
charge, as Birch sat up against the boulder, hands
bound behind him, imprisoning him to Jim's will.

With a slight laugh, Jim informed him, "Only one
problem with your theory, Birch...."

"Robert..."

This through a temporary wrench into the works, as
Birch dropped the formalities.

"Yeah, um sure. Robert. Listen, Birch, like I was
saying, you're in no position to dictate out the
rules."

Was West ever wrong though. Much to what he said,
contradicted what the feeling below his waist
insinuated. He would find that it would be working
against himself, winding down his willpower. Birch,
more than a thespian, had insight to what roamed a
man's mind.

"No, West, that's where you're wrong."

Jim laughed, but then keyed into more of what Birch
had to present to him.

He lost the smile, as Robert continued his onslaught
of meanings, "Like I said, West. I took your ass and
made it mine. Like many a man, you put on a good show,
trying to be a man, but you aren't your own man. You
need another man to rule you."

"Rule me? That's fuckin' nonsense!" West replied, now
sitting back on his legs, in the squatting position.

"I wouldn't call 'that' nonsense, West," Robert
gestured his head, in the direction, below Jim's
bellyhole.

Trying to move his knees together, had proved to be a
tactic delivered too late. He knew Birch had already
picked up on his nine inches, hard as a rock, hanging
down over his full balls. It became too late to even
scoop up the dribble from his piss slit, as his balls
churned up, like a boiling pot. With all humor lost
from his disposition, Jim looked first into Robert's
eyes, then down his half buttoned shirt. A yearning
grew in his mind. At first, the suggestion of the open
shirt, drawing his attention to the thick, dark brown
chest of hair, then a flashback to wanting to suck on
the pink nips that nestled in the forest of hair. Not
only did his cock twitch, but renewed interest made
him salivate. Birch realized West's new found
interest, the peering of his eyes at his own open
shirt.

"Go for it, James," Robert said, smiling.

West moved his hand along his beard. Everything seemed
to be moving too fast. He still heard the braves
squabbling, fighting off their aggressors. Yet, he
wondered by nobody bothered to seek out Birch and
himself. Then his mind turned from that, back to the
hairy, V-shaped mass of hair. His mouth began to
salivate again. Suddenly, he felt a great
responsibility to either choose between his mission in
life or the first man, in his life, that he really had
desires for.

"Take your time, West, but hurry before my cock loses
all it's pent up emotion!"

For West, lust won out. He wasn't sure of the
implications, but he went for the heat of the moment.
Reaching forward, he undid the third button of Birch's
shirt. The same brand of white shirt that Birch wore
that night he seduced Jim, cuffed him and raped his
ass. With Birch as his captive, he easily opened the
shirt, pushing it back over Birch's wide shoulders,
exposing his hairy chest and stomach.

Robert Birch leaned back against the boulder, which
made his pecs stand out even more. He knew, as well as
James, that his nips begged to be touched, wet down,
licked, sucked.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhoooooh..." Birch sighed, throwing his
head back.

Grazing his hairy left nip, James licked twice. Then,
taking his thumb, he cleared away the wet, dark brown
follicles of hair, revealing Birch's pink nipmeat.
Reaching forwards, with both hands, James steadied his
body, now on his knees, holding Birch by the sides of
both pecs. His cupped lips leaned into the left side
of Birch's chest.

"Ooooooooooooooohhhoooohhhfuck yeah!" Birch cried out
in ecstasy.

After awhile, Birch began to use his persuasive words
on West once more.

"Feels great, James. I know you want my cock and
you've made it nice and ripe for your ass. C'mon now.
Untie me so that I can give you what you crave."

Mesmerizing James, he reached behind Birch, feeling
for the laced wrists. Being coy, Birch slowly removed
his arms from behind his back, moving them towards his
crotch.

"Help me get my cock ready, James."

As Birch spread his legs with his hands, Jim's hands
busied themselves, unzipping. He looked down, as he
did this. One thing he noticed, that he didn't before,
is that Birch's pants had been sewn out of piece of
leather. Not the typical rough kind, but like polished
boots. The aroma of the leather helped him along, to
unleash Birch's fury between his legs.

As their eyes met, Robert Birch said, "You need this
up your ass James, don't you?"

Almost as if in a hypnotic state, James replied, "Yes.
I... I need your cock fucking me deep."

Birch pressed his hands behind him, against the
boulder. As he rose up, so did James. However, his
leather pants fell to his ankles, revealing his ten
inch spike, almost ready.

"No, James. On your knees," Robert said oh so softly.

The palms of his hands gently rested on James' bare
shoulders, guiding him into position. Jim's mind now
evacuated his thoughts from the wiry chest, the
untouched right nip and dwelt on the embedded, dark
trail, stretching down Birch's stomach. His knees
resting on the ground, brought his head even with
Birch's deep bellyhole, covered in luscious hair. He
lowered his head, ready to slurp up the bead of precum
at Birch's piss slit.

"No, James. First tongue out my sweaty, ripe
bellyhole," came the directive.

Looking straight ahead, Jim followed the order. As
James leaned forward, tongue out, ready to stab the
deep innie, Birch leaned over. Already having
unlatched a pair of metal cuffs from his beltline, his
hands reached down. Taking James' left forearms, one
hand felt up the soft arm fur. He clicked one of the
cuffs around James' wrist. Jim broke away from his
licking.

"Easy, James. Go with it. You know you crave to be
owned by me."

Not much time had been given for future thoughts, as
the second metal cuff surrounded West's other wrist.
All he knew, at this moment, is indeed, he wanted
Birch to rule his body, at the ensuing moment, his
tongue. Eventually and most important, his ass.

%

Continued.....

Copyright 2005 T. Luke McPhee
All World Rights Reserved

This story may not be sold or made part of
any collection without prior written permission.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in...
'spread' happiness!


dont strike a fault, unless you can admit you've slipped..T Chase McPhee