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theGreatxIam

Scout's Honor Chapter 9 (of 10) By theGreatxIam

THE STORY SO FAR: A childless couple devotes themselves
to a Girl Scout troop. The wife dies in childbirth; the
surviving child dies soon after. The husband goes into
a funk, relieved only when the couple's old troop asks
him to drive the bus for its last camping trip. The
trip turns into a nonstop orgy, climaxing in a frenzied
free-for-all just before the ride home. On the bus,
though, an argument breaks out.

--- --- ---

Even as the echoes of Claire's vicious retort died
away, I knew it wasn't over. Something had been cooking
between her and her adopted sister, Sami, for most of
the trip. And it was boiling over.

Traci tried to put a lid on it. She swiveled around on
the bus's front seat, held up a hand and issued
soothing sounds. I could have guessed she was wasting
her breath. But, then, she was used to schoolyard
battles. I had the experience to know this sounded like
an adult fight. And adults never play nice.

Interfering in a grown-up war only gets you caught in
the middle. So I wasn't surprised when Claire turned on
Traci next.

"Shut up, you ... pimp. You and all the other whores --
I hate you all!"

I looked in the rearview. Claire's eyes were firing
laser beams toward the front of the bus. She was in the
aisle, legs spread, swaying with the turns but too
angry to bother putting out an arm to brace herself.

I flicked my eyes back to the road; we were getting
onto the main highway. A blur of movement drew me back
to the mirror.

Screeching something I didn't understand, Sami had
launched herself at her sister. I saw hands flailing
and then they dropped out of sight. I was stuck behind
the wheel. All I could do was shoot a glance at Traci
in the seat opposite. She just looked stunned.

By the time I spied a spot up ahead and hauled the bus
to the side of the road, some measure of peace had been
restored. Sereka and Tishana had Sami bottled up in a
back seat. The Sues and Sri were sitting on Claire, who
still had a lot of fight in her.

We calmed her down enough to get her into a seat up
front, with several girls around her just in case. She
still had fire in her eyes, but she pressed against the
metal wall and stayed there.

Quietly, I agreed with Traci to skip the fast food and
drive everyone home. I began remapping my route
mentally to get Sami and Claire off first as I put the
bus back into gear and eased into traffic.

We had separated Sami and Claire, but we couldn't keep
them from shouting at each other. That's how the whole
sordid story came out. It spilled in disconnected bits
and pieces, but it wasn't too tough to figure out what
it added up to.

Claire had been reluctant to join in Traci's seduction
plan. Sami had helped talk her into it. Claire insisted
she had agreed to only one sexual encounter with me.

Sami didn't remember it that way -- or, if she did, she
might have counted on Claire getting caught up in the
atmosphere. When Claire didn't -- when she withdrew
completely, in fact, after her one obligatory fuck --
Sami tried to tease her into loosening up.

That's when Claire dropped the bomb. She blurted out to
Sami that their father had molested her for several
years. Only when Claire had mustered the courage to
tell her mom had it all come to an end in a divorce so
hush-hush that they didn't even tell Sami what was
going on.

Sami had refused to believe it. Refused to believe
their dad could do such things, refused to believe she
wouldn't have been aware of it, refused to believe Mom
would keep it a secret.

But as Claire spat out the story, some things began to
make sense. I'd run into their father many times with
Sami at a ball game or a church fair, but never with
Claire. If I thought about it at all, I had figured it
was either because of Claire's shyness or some desire
to go the extra mile with the adopted daughter to make
her feel wanted. What I didn't know was that he was
taking Claire out just as often -- but those trips were
to sleazy motels or just a dark, empty parking lot
where he could push back the seat and show her "what
daddies do only with their real daughters." It was
twisted in so many ways.

As the story unfolded, the girls sat in silence. When
it sunk in, though, and when Claire had wound down and
Sami had lapsed into sullen mumbling, some of them
started talking.

Sophisticated Sereka and Tishana were the most shocked.
For all their world travels, they hadn't seen much of
life's seamier side. They certainly never expected to
find it riding the bus with them. In fact, they almost
sided with Sami. Almost, I say -- Claire's account was
too convincing to be completely doubted by anyone
outside her family.

The Sues were shocked, but they accepted Claire's story
and got very upset by it. They asked a lot of questions
about why Claire or her mom hadn't gone to the police.

"Because it's all a lie," Sami shouted from the back.
But she seemed to be losing her conviction.

Claire didn't have much of an answer. It sounded as if
she just wanted to forget about it.

Sri was the big surprise. She quietly reported that one
of her uncles had tried to come on to her the year
before. Nothing happened, she said, because her aunt
came back unexpectedly. She'd never told anyone about
it, she said shyly.

By the time we reached the city limits, silence had
returned. Everyone had retreated to her own world. Most
just stared out a window. Carrie and Terry had their
noses buried in books. There were several expressions
of surprise when I pulled to a halt outside Claire and
Sami's house.

With as few words as possible, the girls helped them
unload. Sami carefully kept several feet away from her
sister at all times, but the murderous look in her eye
had been replaced with confusion. Claire was retreating
back into her old shell as we watched, awkwardly
avoiding the hugs offered.

I waited to make sure they got inside safely. Claire
went to the door first; Sami hung back. When it opened,
their mom came out. Claire said something we couldn't
hear and raced past her into the house, banging a
knapsack against the door frame.

The last thing we saw as we drove off was their mom
opening her arms wide and Sami falling into them, tears
pouring out.

Things lightened a little after that. It helped that
Traci played cruise director. At first her attempts at
things like a sing-along fell flat, but they fell so
horribly flat that some girls couldn't resist joking
about it. I won't say it was a joyful bus after that,
but there were laughs.

It also helped that the mental remapping I'd done of
our route was wildly mixed up. Nothing like a bus
driver who goes the wrong way down a one-way street and
almost gets stuck trying a tight turn in a narrow alley
to get people in a good mood, united in ridiculing him.

Sri was the next off the bus, spotting her house as I
almost flew past. She'd gotten in a couple of good jabs
at me by then, but as we pulled out her stuff she
pushed me into my seat and sat in my lap. "Just to show
I was only teasing about your driving," she said,
leaning in for a kiss. A real kiss. Her hands held my
face captive as her tongue danced with mine.

"Thanks -- for everything," she said with a smile as
she stood up. "And I mean everything." She gave my
crotch a pat, and oohed when she felt my cock grow
hard. She stroked it a few times before tearing herself
away.

I was too off-balance to do more than say "thank you"
back, and she was gone, running across the lawn to her
front door.

That set the tone for the rest of the trip.

Carrie and Terry were next. They tag-teamed me with wet
kisses while guiding my hands under their T-shirts to
grope their tits.

Baby lived one block over. I didn't expect her to join
in, but she had a very passionate kiss for me. "Thank
you for everything you did," she said, looking down
shyly, "and for everything you didn't do." Then she
turned to go. Just before she stepped off, though, she
stopped, looked around, spun toward me and hoisted her
shirt into the air, flashing me with her boobs. I
whistled appreciatively, and she was blushing when she
pulled the shirt down and turned away.

Lana had hauled her stuff up front, and she stood
beside me, guiding, as I snaked through the side
streets to her house. She offered a genteel peck, but
then she whipped the spray can from behind her back. I
ducked instinctively and a glob splatted onto the
driver's-side window, leaving a slime trail behind as
it slithered down.

Lana giggled. I shot out a hand and snatched the can
from her. She tried to get away, but bags and a bedroll
had her trapped. She faced me with all the solemnity of
a spy before the firing squad.

I held the can inches from her face and cackled
menacingly.

Sue Two taunted her. "Ooh, someone's gonna get it!"

But I simply sprayed a line of whipped cream along both
her lips.

Lana struggled to keep a straight face when I started
licking the cream off, using only gentle pressure of
the tip of my tongue. Before long, she was moaning. As
I cleaned up the last bit she sent her tongue out to
meet mine. Our mouths crushed together.

"Whoa," Sue Two called out. "Somebody's getting it!"

We broke the kiss only with regret. "I'll never forget
this weekend," Lana said as she gathered up her
belongings and left the bus. I could see her in my
rearview for blocks, standing on the lawn waving as her
mom ferried stuff into their house.

Then it was Sue Two's turn. She had an evil grin as she
approached. Quick as a cat's pounce, she flipped up her
skirt, exposing her red silk panties, and leaped onto
my lap. With her legs clutching my sides, she boldly
rubbed her crotch into my aching cock as she mashed her
mouth to mine.

She wriggled and writhed, doing things to my erection
that made my nostrils flare. I swear I was ready to rip
off her underwear and fuck her right there and then.

But a shout carried into the bus. "Suzy! Is that you?"

"My mom!" Sue Two scrambled off me. "Bye! Thanks! Be
well!"

I was still panting when I pulled up to Sereka and
Tishana's house. Their parents were supposed to be out
all afternoon, which is, I guess, what gave them the
courage to go further than anyone else. The two black
goddesses dropped their shorts as they made me part of
a three-way kiss. That gave me the chance to slip
fingers into both their cunts.

Anyone who happened to look into the bus door would
have had quite a sight: two magnificent asses bouncing
around, a hand sticking out of each one.

I suspect they had been warming each other up in the
back seats -- I thought I'd heard some moaning back
there -- because after only two or three minutes they
both had orgasms that made their knees buckle.

They were walking a bit bow-legged as they stepped into
their house. I was feeling a bit weak, myself.

Sue and Traci were the only ones left. Traci's house
was closer, but she said she'd rather ride all the way
with me to drop off the bus. I warned her it could take
awhile -- the rental place was crosstown -- but she was
persistent. Sue would be next, then on to the dropoff.

Sue made sure her departure was memorable. Like Sue
Two, she straddled me. But, instead of rubbing my cock
through my jeans, she unzipped me, worked her hand
through the opening of my briefs and pulled my dick
into the open.

Her soft hands closed around my shaft, a feeling almost
too terrific to endure. Her hands were warm. At first
she only squeezed my cock, a pulsating rhythm like a
beating heart. When I had produced enough fluids under
that encouragement, she spread it around like lotion.
Taking advantage of the lubrication, she started to
stroke. Her fingers did amazing things, pressing,
releasing, sliding up and down.

All the while her hungry mouth was locked with mine.
Her insistent tongue invaded my opening. Guided by
lust, my hands sought her knockers, found them under
her loose blouse. Her nipples rose beneath the pressure
of my palms.

Sue's hands were clutching my cock like a virgin's
cunt, but moving on it like the hottest whore in town.
I desperately tried to heave my ass off the cracked
plastic driver's seat, attempting to fuck her hands.

By then I had tugged her blouse free of her skirt and
undone all but the top button, giving me total access
to her tits. I found them so tempting that I couldn't
tear myself away to explore under her skirt, though
that was an alluring idea.

"Oh, god," I said, coming up for air, "you're driving
me crazy. Where did you learn to do that? Oh, yeah,
that's incredible."

"I'm glad you like it," Sue answered, each word coming
in a puff of breath. "Ooh, you're getting even bigger.
Does that mean you're gonna come? Are you? Are you?"

"Almost," I croaked, as Sue's fingers flew faster and
faster. "Almost, I'm almost there."

"Then I'd better stop." She jumped off me so abruptly I
almost bucked off the seat. "Gotta leave something for
Traci, after all."

Sue had traveled light. She gathered all her stuff in
one arm and sprang off the bus. "Better do something
for him quick, Trace," she said as she ran off. "I
think I might have overexcited him."

Sue had indeed left me hanging -- or, rather, hanging
out -- and so flustered that I pulled away from the
curb without rearranging myself.

That did not escape Traci's notice. I glanced over to
see her slowly licking her lips. A stirring in my lap
made me realize what was up was also out. But it was
too late. I was in traffic, and maneuvering the big bus
kept both hands occupied.

Maneuvering didn't get any easier when Traci slipped
out of her seat, got on her knees next to me and
lowered her face to hover over my rigid cock.

"No," I begged, "I'm driving!"

That didn't stop her. Neither did my frantic -- but, I
must admit, none too forceful -- attempts to elbow her
away.

A honk from a guy I almost T-boned drew my attention
back to the road. Meanwhile, a warm fog settled over my
cock. Traci's hot breath was almost palpable; I wasn't
completely sure if she was doing me or still just
hovering above.

Then I was sure. Her tongue, swaying gentle as a fern
in the wind, brushed the tip of my dick. I reflexively
stretched out my feet and almost accelerated into a
Volvo.

Traci was going a bit faster, too. Her tongue was
curling and curving around my dick. When it rode along
the ultrasensitive ridge where the shaft meets the
head, I shouted so loud that the guy in the next lane
whipped his head around to stare at me.

I had to grit my teeth and clench the wheel as if it
were the last handhold between me and a 5,000-foot
drop. Even so, I couldn't keep my eyes from squeezing
shut now and again.

Traci's lips closed around my tool and skidded halfway
down the shaft. She held me there, her tongue
continuing its lewd dance. I could feel her hair
sweeping over my crotch. I was so captivated that I
have no idea how long I sat at a green light before the
blaring horns behind me cut through the haze; all I
know is that I saw the traffic light turn yellow in my
rearview just after I cleared the intersection.

By then, Traci was bobbing up and down on my pole,
slurping noises magnifying the awesome feeling. I could
see her head popping in and out of my field of view as
the bus jerkily went on its way.

Keeping her pace steady -- which is more than I can say
for my steering -- Traci brought me closer and closer.
I tried to speed her up, humping off the seat, but she
would only slide up and off until I settled down and
let her call the tune.

Somehow she knew exactly when to slow down to keep me
on the razor's edge. And she understood what she was
doing to me. At the peak of one of my surges, when I
was sure only a few more strokes would do it, she let
me slip completely out of her mouth. I looked down to
see her face upturned. As she brushed the hair from her
grey eyes, a huge and slightly devilish grin reached
from ear to ear.

Only when my breathing returned to normal did Traci
return to my cock. Again she started at the very top,
tonguing the tip, before putting her lips to it. Her
lips formed as tight a seal as before, but she added
something, gently using her jaw and tongue to hold me
close deep into her mouth.

I could no longer see straight. I could only try to aim
between the buildings and hope no other vehicle was
foolish enough to get in the bus's way.

Traci was sinking further and further down my cock. It
wouldn't quite fit in all the way, but I wasn't
complaining. She alternated between deep-throating and
just holding the head in her mouth and sucking so hard
her cheeks disappeared. Either way, it was paradise.

Somehow I made the last turn before the rental place,
though I can't guarantee that all the bus's wheels were
on the ground when I did.

"Almost there," I squeezed out. Traci took the hint and
started moving faster. Her mane flew about her as she
fucked me with her mouth.

"Don't stop," I begged. "Don't stop. I'm almost ...
Almost ... Gaaaaaaawd!"

The bus leaped forward, startling a little old lady who
had been about to cross the street. We flew past her as
my cum flew into Traci's mouth, blast after blast.

Shaky, I managed the last couple of blocks as she
softly milked me dry, tucked away my shrinking cock and
zipped me up. By the time I pulled into the lot, Traci
was back in her seat, looking quite demure except for
the bright red imprints of the rubber flooring's tread
that were pressed into her knees.

Considering that condition, I didn't argue when Traci
said I should handle the paperwork of the rental and
let her take care of transferring her luggage. I
uneasily mumbled replies to the clerk's genial
questions about how the weekend went and wrapped up
that end as quickly as possible.

I was surprised, though, to find Traci still shuttling
stuff to my car when I got to it. The trunk was full
and she was stowing bags in the back seat.

The clerk had come out of his shack to check the bus
and was giving us a strange look, so I kept my mouth
shut for the moment and just piled Traci and her
baggage into my Camry.

It was only when we were out of the lot that I felt
safe. "So," I said, "what's with all the stuff? Looks
like you brought every piece of clothing you own."

"Just the best clothes," she said.

I looked over at her. She wasn't laughing.

"I didn't want to be too much of a burden," Traci went
on. "I've got enough clothes to last a long time. I
don't need new stuff. And I've been stocking up on
makeup and ... uh, other essentials. So you don't have
to worry about that."

I had a sinking feeling I knew the answer to my next
question. "What do you mean, I won't have to worry?
What's it got to do with me?"

"I'm moving in with you, of course."

The argument that followed wasn't much more
sophisticated than a schoolyard did-so-did-not duel. I
pointed to her youth; she noted I hadn't minded that
much in bed. While still bleeding from that riposte, I
noted that the law frowned on such liaisons, and living
together would be harder to hide than a romp in the
woods. Traci had the solution: Move to someplace where
no one knew her age. My job? I didn't like it anyway,
she said.

It went on like that. The intellectual high point may
have come when I pointed out that her parents would
notice her absence. They wouldn't care, she said. Would
too, I replied. "You don't know them," Traci argued. "I
know you," I said, "and you aren't that cavalier about
your family."

"Am too," she said.

Well, there you go. We were one "I'm rubber and you're
glue" away from a presidential debate.

We went round and round these arguments so much that we
ended up just spitting shorthand at each other "Age."
"Sex." "Law." "Move."

"Maturity," I said.

"That's age," Traci answered. "We just did that."

"No. Not years. Maturity."

"I'm mature," she said. "Look what I did this weekend."

"Sexuality isn't maturity."

"Not that! I mean, look at what I accomplished. I put
it all together!"

"Just my point," I said quietly. "This weekend proved
that at least one of us isn't mature."

Trying to use subtlety on a 17-year-old is like hunting
lions with a rubber band. You'll never bring them down,
but you could annoy them mightily.

Traci punched me in the arm -- the child in her. But
then she twisted up her face and put her back against
the door. "You think I'm immature?"

"At least one of us, I said."

"Huh?"

"What about what you did to Baby?"

"Not that again. I told you, she was ready. I don't
know what you said to her."

"You're not going to give me all the blame for Claire,
are you?"

"Claire?" Traci was indignant. "Nobody knew what she
... What was going on. It's her fault."

"Her fault? Her fault her father molested her?"

"No!" Traci slapped the dashboard. "Don't put words in
my mouth! It was her fault she didn't tell us. We
wouldn't have made her come if we knew."

I pounced. "So you admit you made her?"

Traci turned her head away and kept quiet for a whole
minute. When she talked again, she was quieter and
calmer. "We didn't twist anyone's arm. Claire could
have said no. She did say no at the camp, and nobody
forced her. What were we supposed to do, give everyone
a quiz before we brought them along? You didn't ask too
many questions, did you?"

"No," I said. "That's why I said 'at least' one of us.
You're absolutely right. I didn't ask questions. And I
should have. I was the adult."

Traci looked disgusted. "It's easy to say that now.
First you do all of us, then you say you're sorry?"

The kid in her was gone, and she was making some very
adult points. I had to answer seriously.

"I don't regret all of it," I said. "Maybe I should.
Maybe I'm just kidding myself when I think that the old
rules about ages don't apply these days, when a
16-year-old is a lot more experienced. But I don't feel
sorry for most of what I did."

"Then why ..."

I cut her off. "I didn't say I was proud of it, either.
I gave in to my urges. I let myself believe nothing
could be wrong."

"So if some of it was OK, how about what you and I did?
Or am I too immature to decide who and when I want to
screw?"

I didn't answer, just stared straight ahead. I didn't
even want to think about it. I was afraid of what my
answer might be.

Traci fidgeted and fussed while I remained silent.
Finally she burst out. "So you don't think screwing me
was right? Gee, kinda late to decide that, isn't it?
Good thing you didn't figure it out earlier or you
wouldn't have gotten your rocks off just now. Or are
blowjobs OK?"

I didn't even trust myself to look at her. But I could
feel her eyes burning holes in me.

When she spoke next, her voice was softer, faltering.
"Is that really why you won't take me in? Or is it ...
is it just that you don't want me the way I want you? I
know I'm just a kid, but I thought ... Maybe ... I
guess you don't l-love me."

My eyes flicked to her. Before I could stop myself, the
words came out. "No, I ..."

Traci burst into tears. "I should have known! I'm so
stupid! I'm sorry."

She hadn't understood. But maybe that was best. I
swallowed what I was going to say and pulled to the
curb in front of Traci's house. She got out and hauled
out her bags in silence, not looking at me even when I
handed her the bags from the trunk.

I drove away, away from Traci and away from that part
of my life. That weekend did end my depression. It made
me re-examine my life and make a lot of changes. It
made me re-enter the dating scene, though not with any
great success.

But it also ended my relationships with the troop. Most
of the girls called or wrote, some even came by the
house, but -- very politely -- I asked them to stop.
Only Lana kept in touch, writing me a few times a year
even though I never wrote back.

It was through her letters that I knew Sami eventually
accepted the truth of Claire's molestation, though the
sisters never were as close as before. I heard about
Sue Two giving up cheerleading in college, while Sue
led the squad. About Baby -- Michelle -- becoming prom
queen, and Sereka getting married.

But I never read about Traci in those letters, and of
course I didn't ask. I thought about her, more than was
good for me, though.

Then, about seven years after that camping trip, I got
a letter in a small, square envelope.

To be continued ...