NOTE: I hereby grant permission for all archiving and
other uses of this work, public or private, free or
paid, in any format whether existing now or to be
invented in the future, so long as a copy of this note
and credit to "theGreatxIam" is given and no alteration
is made to the body of the work. Copyright 2002,
theGreatxIam

Scout's Honor
Chapter 10 (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 an orgy that re-energizes him. But
conflicting emotions push him to cut off contact until,
seven years later, a small, square envelope arrives.

--- --- ---

The small, square card arrived on a rainy Saturday. I
had taken a break from the detail work on a watercolor
of the Golden Gate Bridge, based on a sketch I'd done
the previous summer. Sitting down with a cup of coffee
to sort the mail, I flicked the envelope into a pile of
advertising circulars and other junk, based on its
shape alone.

Something made me look twice. I saw that my name was
handwritten. Then I recognized the return address. It
had been long enough for the hurt to fade, and I was
curious. I tore it open.

I sighed hard enough to make the tissue-paper insert
float off my lap.

Seeing Traci's address, I had expected a wedding
invitation. That would have sailed right into the
trash.

But, instead, the engraved printing said she was
graduating from a local college. I did the math: Seven
years. Something had delayed her. There was no other
note, just a ticket to the commencement in four weeks.

I aimed for the wastebasket. Then I pulled back and
stuck the ticket on top of a stack of magazines next to
my chair.

In a week, it was buried under more magazines and mail.

In two weeks, it was clamped to the fridge by a magnet
shaped like a cheeseburger.

Near the end of the third week, I noticed it when I
went for a beer. I grabbed the ticket and, beer in
hand, went down to the basement. I found what I was
looking for in the fifth box: a stack of old snapshots,
Jean and the scouts. I sat on the cold concrete floor
and sifted through them. I cried. Then I tossed the
ticket on top of the photos and put them all back in
the box.

A week later, I was up early on that Saturday morning,
pretending the morning light was the sunrise at Point
Reyes as I detailed the feathers on a gull. Halfway
through the fletching, I put my brushes and paints
away. I sighed. It was the weekend every year that I
had a special pain in my heart about what I was
missing. Maybe I could use an excuse to get out and do 
something.

I had forgotten which box I chucked the ticket into.
That took awhile, so I was a couple minutes late for
the ceremony. The school gave each graduate 12 tickets.
I found myself in a row with Traci's parents, her two
older sisters, three rambunctious kids, and four former
scouts -- Michelle, Sri, Terry and Carrie.

I waved to her parents, but there wasn't time to say
hello. I wasn't sure if they even recognized me. The
music had started and the graduates were marching into
the auditorium. The scouts shifted seats to put me in
the middle of them, on one end of the row.

Despite frantic whispers back and forth, we couldn't
pick Traci out of the cap-and-gowned mass. When they
filed past us to their seats, it was pointless to try
to spot her from behind, and our neighbors shushed us
before I could find out anything more than that none of
the others had heard from Traci since the camping trip,
either.

Even without the shushing, we'd have had to watch what
we said. One of Traci's sisters was sitting next to us;
with the other sister, she bookended the three kids.

You could tell they were all family. Traci's sisters
had the same facial features as Traci, even the same
long brown hair. So did the kid closest to us, a girl
who looked around 6 or 7. The other two were younger, a
boy and girl, both with those familiar grey eyes. The
kids ignored all attempts to shush them as they asked a
hundred questions each. Only when someone rose from the
middle of the graduates, turned and waved, did they
quiet down. I couldn't see the grey eyes, but the brown
hair still swept down her back.

I closed my eyes and looked back in time. I saw Traci,
naked, entwined with me. But I also saw Jean, long
before, running toward me with her mortarboard sailing
off and her gown billowing like Batman's cape.

I opened my eyes and looked around. There was the proof
that time had passed. All of the girls were women now
-- still beautiful, but on the other side of the divide
from the giggles around the campfire. There was a
bright gold band on Terry's left hand. Married. Maybe
even with children; I'd have to ask. Maybe she had a
son just the same age as the little guy next to us.

Uh-oh. There came the tears again. Losing Jean had been
hard, and I would never forget her, but maybe, someday,
even if it were a long time in the future, I'd find
another woman to share my life. Kids, though -- there's
a deadline for kids. I had no prospects and no hopes.
And I found that very hard to live with.

The speakers droned on as I wiped the tears away.
Carrie leaned over and patted my arm. "I know how you
must feel. She's the last of us. All grown-up college
grads now!"

I smiled, weakly. Vague words about hope and peace and
the future wafted over us. I let the float past and
escaped into daydreams. I thought of the camping trip,
of course. Whipped cream and a cold pond. It had
changed my life in so many ways. Afterward, I'd gotten
a new job. Filled my days with things I enjoyed. There
were still lonely times, but often, when I was low, I
could think back to that trip.

I blacked out the bad parts. That wasn't easy at first.
But I had it down pat now. I could call to mind Sri
dancing around me and feel more than all right. Maybe
that was another reason I'd kept away from them, all
these years. To freeze them as they were on those few,
those golden days. To preserve them as memories.

Maybe. But if that was it, the reason was sounding a
bit dumb. There I was with some of the girls -- women
-- and it felt good. What's more, it felt alive. Just
sitting there amid them, I felt as if I had stepped out
of the world for awhile and then returned, or as if
time had frozen and spring had come at last.

As the speeches droned on, even the shushers gave up
and everyone was chattering. The kids in our row were
all abuzz, playing with the fold-up seats, squirming
around. The older girl tried to make a break for it,
squeezing past Traci's sister and crawling over Terry
and Carrie before I nabbed her. She gave me that pouty
face that little girls must learn from old Shirley
Temple movies and insisted I let her go. Traci's sister
was looking embarrassed and apologizing to me. I
brokered a compromise, letting the little girl perch on
my lap -- not free in the aisle, but not back in her
seat. She accepted it gracefully and stayed with me
through the rest of the ceremony.

She was still there when Traci came up the aisle,
mortarboard sailing off her head, gown billowing out
like Batman's cape.

Her face lit up when she saw us. The little girl leaped
off my lap and raced up to Traci, being swept up in a
big hug before the other scouts and I and the rest of
her family piled on as well.

It was a chaotic tangle, and it stayed that way as we
were swept out into the lobby by the flow of the crowd.
Somewhere in the melee Traci invited me to her house
the next day for a big party. I accepted abstractedly,
knowing it would be easier to beg off by phone than in
person -- or simply not to go at all. It had felt good
to see her, and the others, but I was happy and
comfortable the way I was. I didn't want to rush into
anything.

So I nodded, yes, I'd be there, and mouthed a few
pleasantries before Traci had to go return her gown.
The other scouts and I vowed to see each other at the
party and went our separate ways. I turned back just
before I pushed through the doors for one last look at
Traci. She was striding away, one arm draped over her
dad, the other towing the little girl, with the rest of
her family close behind. I was glad she seemed happy.

Back home, I took my ticket stub down to the basement
and tucked it back in the box with the photos. 
Upstairs, I pulled a book from the "someday" stack I
kept by my bed, made a cup of tea and settled back in
an overstuffed easy chair.

It was an hour or two later when something roused me
from a nap. I looked around, confused, until the chime
of the doorbell came again. I got to my feet, book
tumbling to the floor, and went to the hallway. Still
drowsy, I didn't even bother to see who it was; I just
opened the door.

It was raining. I didn't see the drops or the gray sky,
though. Just the way Traci's hair was plastered to her
skull.

Words spilled out of her. "I'm sorry to bother you at
home. I know it's been so long since ... since ... But
when you said you'd come, tomorrow, you looked ... I
don't know ... And Jean ..."

I waved her inside and made a fresh pot of tea. Her
mention of my late wife had tweaked too many
conflicting emotions, and I monopolized the
conversation to keep her from going there again.

At first it was just babble about the graduation
ceremony and the other scouts and my painting. Anything
to avoid silence as I rattled two cups and saucers onto
a tray with some sugar packs and a ceramic cow full of
milk. I put the teapot on and carried it into the
living room, still gabbing. Only then did I realize
Traci was still in her wet coat. I took it from her and
got her a towel.

Traci sat on my couch in her jeans and plain white
blouse, towelling off her silky hair. And she was the
most beautiful thing that house had seen in almost a
decade. I just sat back and watched her. A lot of
emotions I'd bottled up came rushing to the surface.

Traci spoke first. "There are some things I have to
tell you," she said, those grey eyes shining. "I wasn't
sure if you'd really come tomorrow. And maybe it
wouldn't have been fair to wait until then, either."

"I have some things to tell you, too," I said.

Traci held up a hand. "I think I should go first."

"No," I said. "Because if I don't say this right now, I
might never. And I don't want to go on regretting the
things I didn't do."

I leaned forward in the chair. "Traci, I love you. It's
crazy and impossible and probably much too late, but I
can't help that. I knew I loved you that weekend, that
wild weekend. But I couldn't tell you then, because you
were much too young."

Traci's eyes grew moist and she opened her mouth to
speak, but I rushed on. "I know you've gone on with
your life since then. Boyfriends. Someone special?"

She shook her head, but a mysterious smile flickered on
her lips. I swear, if she'd stopped me there I would
have deflated like a crashing blimp. Instead, I kept
going.

"I can't ask you if you love me, not after all this
time. And I shouldn't even be asking this, not out of
the blue like this, but ... but will you consider going
out with me? Starting from scratch? Traci, I've been
avoiding life too long. I want to get back into it. I
want to ... I want to try, with you. I'm an old ...
older man, and if I'm scaring the hell out of you now,
just leave. I'll understand. I'll ..."

She finally cut me off, which was a good thing because
I was even scaring myself. Actually, it was a wonderful
thing. Because she cut me off by rising from the couch,
pulling me to my feet and planting a long, sweet,
passionate kiss on my love-starved lips.

Traci tasted like summer and youth and romance. I'm not
sure how anyone could distill all those into a kiss,
but she did it.

I wrapped her in my arms. She molded to my body. Our
kiss went on and on. Days could have passed and I
wouldn't have noticed. I was lost in her.

I blinked several times when at last our lips parted.
Was it real? Traci was warm and vibrant in my arms. It
was.

I hadn't opened the curtains in that room in ages. The
shreds of late afternoon light that snuck in weren't
enough for me to read her eyes. I wondered: Was this
love? Or just another project to cheer me up?

I started to ask her. She pursed her ruby lips.

"Ssssh. Don't talk. There'll be time for that later. A
lifetime, perhaps." Traci looked around. "Do you still
have a bedroom in this place, or do you just hibernate
in here?"

Truth was, I'd spent more than one night asleep in the
chair; I kept a "backup" alarm clock on top of the TV.
But I did a quick mental check. I was in luck. This was
one of the days I actually had made up the bed.

We walked upstairs hand in hand, squeezed in the
staircase. I didn't want to let go of her, in case she
were to disappear in a mist. This time, I was holding
on.

"Won't your family wonder where you are?" I already
presumed that once I had her in my bed, I wouldn't let
her go."

"I made arrangements," she said. She squeezed my hand.
"I was hoping ..."

We got to the door of my bedroom and we both hesitated.
I don't know what was going on in Traci's head, but I
had a lot of emotions swirling around -- not least, the
memories of past nights in that room. I'd once planned
on never letting another woman in there. Then I
remembered that faded T-shirt: "Life is what happens to
you while you're making other plans."

The past was gone, never to return. Traci was the
present. And, if I was far luckier than I deserved, the
future. I took a deep breath and ushered her over the
threshold.

There was just enough light for us to make out our
surroundings. Traci found a candle I didn't even
remember on the dresser and lit it. It didn't throw
much light, but a faint scent of sandalwood entered the
room.

She stepped up to me. We embraced. Our lips met, our
mouths opened, our tongues touched. It was so right.

We undressed in the dim light. I cursed it for hiding
the perfection of Traci's young body. I thanked it for
hiding my own imperfections.

Traci approached me again. Her naked flesh joined mine,
head to toe. Of course, my erection rose, rubbing her
flat stomach. Her breasts jutted into my chest, nipples
poking me. Our mouths met hungrily. There was romance,
yes, but also passion. Traci stirred the elemental in
me. I had to possess her completely.

When we tumbled to my bed, I sent my hands everywhere
on her body. I couldn't get enough of her; I couldn't
get over my luck. Her breasts, large and still firm,
yielding like ripe peaches to my touch. Her legs, such
sculpted curves. Her face, pure and fresh. Her slim
waist, widening to womanly hips, the aroma of sexual
desire already rising from inside her.

I explored it all with eager, trembling hands. I kissed
it all, top to bottom. As my lips approached her golden
triangle, she softly pushed me back. "Not yet," she
said. "It's my turn now."

Then I was still as Traci explored me. At first I was
as nervous as a virgin: Would I measure up to her
memories? To her experiences since then? Seven years
had brought her near the peak of her form, but they'd
sent me further and further from mine. Yet being with
her made me feel young once more. She didn't try to
soothe me with lies about how I hadn't changed; that
would have wounded me to the quick. No, Traci only
showed me how she felt.

Her fingers floated over my body like dandelion puffs,
insubstantial as the afternoon breeze. With the back of
her hand she caressed my rigid cock, but it was a
fleeting touch. She was everywhere, there but not
there, tantalizing with the merest brush of flesh on
flesh.

There -- her thigh along my own, sharing warmth. There
-- her hair sweeping across my chest. There -- hot
breath on the side of my face.

Traci moved in, nibbling at the edges of my ear. Soft,
sweet lips at my neck, my forehead, finally pressed to
mine.

Away again, kisses like soap bubbles landing one by one
down my arm. Lips on my palm, tongue darting out. My
fingers in her mouth, long slides in and out, pursed
lips holding me tight tight tight.

The other hand, too, and the erotic torture of having
her suckling me but not where I needed her most, that
sweet tension had me writhing on the bed, tugging
comforter into a pile.

When I thought I could take no more, when tears were
squeezing out of my eyes and I was begging for mercy,
Traci let go of my hand. A long, lithe leg swung over
my body. Her hot, fragrant cunt left a wet imprint on
my stomach as she straddled me.

She leaned forward and her breasts swung down, swaying
before my eyes. Slowly she lowered them until I
couldn't wait and lifted my head, taking first one of
her tits and then the other into my mouth.

Before I got my fill, Traci was sliding down, her ass
lifting up to clear my cock. Her nipples trailed down
my chest.

Down and down they went, until my dick was cradled in
their cushiony warmth. Traci stroked it only a few
times before she slid down further.

Though the afternoon light was fading, I could still
make out the erotic sight of my cock waggling in front
of Traci's face, her eyes following it as if it were a
hypnotist's swaying pocket watch. Her hands reached up.
Fingers closed around the shaft. She held it steady,
firm and straight. I could see her eyes, open wide,
looking past my dick to me.

Her pink tongue darted between her lips, circled them.
She opened her hands, drew my cock to her face, rubbed
it across her cheeks.

Traci was stretched out between my legs, her feet
hanging off the bed. The old box springs creaked as she
adjusted her position. Her mouth hovered over the top
of my dick. Her lips, pressed tight, came to me soft as
a blanket of snow. Again her tongue peeked out. It
spiralled around the tip and then rode down the
sensitive underside of the shaft to my scrotum, where
she sucked first one, then the other of my balls gently
into her mouth.

She came back up, kissing the tip. For several minutes
after that Traci concentrated on the shaft. She nibbled
at it like an ear of corn, licked it like a lollipop.
My hands clenched, nails digging into the palms, as I
endured the anticipation.

At last she returned to the tip. Her tongue retreated,
her lips closed into a tight rosebud. As her hands held
my rod upright, Traci lowered her head. Her hair fell
into a curtain, shutting off my view, but I didn't need
to see to know what was happening.

Her slick, wet lips touched the very top of my cock.
With infinite patience she pressed down, forcing my
dick to penetrate her mouth. The pressure of her lips
hugged me tightly. When her lips widened to admit the
entire head, then snapped back to form a tight seal on
the shaft, I let out a long, deep sigh.

Traci kept me in her mouth, sucking me, while her hands
languidly stroked my shaft. I tried to push deeper into
her mouth but she resisted. I squeezed my eyes shut as
my breathing synchronized with her strokes.

Then, so swiftly that I stopped breathing and didn't
even notice, she pushed her lips down my shaft -- down,
down, down, my flesh disappearing into her. I felt the
head of my cock bump into her throat when she was still
an inch or more from swallowing me whole, and Traci
backed off. But she went down again, getting a bit
closer before I heard her quietly gag. A third, a
fourth, a fifth time she slowly slid down my pole. On
the sixth trip she didn't stop until her lips
surrounded the base of my cock.

My own mouth had opened, gaping wide in shock as Traci
deep-throated me several times more. For the few
seconds she would keep me fully inserted, she would
twist slightly, imparting an incredible jolt as her
throat spun on the tip of my dick.

As fantastic as the feelings were, I didn't think I
could endure much more. So it was blessed relief when
she switched to a more vigorous approach, bobbing
frantically as her mouth slid up and down about half
the length of my slickened cock and her nimble fingers
attended to the rest. I humped up at her, fucking her
eager mouth. The bedsprings sounded like an all-bagpipe
version of "The Stars and Stripes Forever."

I could feel my cock thicken. Traci made one last,
lingering ride to the base, burying her nose in my
short hairs. Then it was back to the quick, short
strokes as I grunted and groaned.

When my orgasm hit, she kept me inside her, swallowing
my pulsing load. It was a tremendous release for me, a
power surge through my entire body. Traci held me in
her mouth, easing her sucking as my ecstasy ebbed. At
last she licked me clean and let my shriveled member
pop out.

Though it had been a -- literally -- draining
experience, I felt very energized. So, when Traci
crawled up and kissed me, I not only kissed her back
fervently but also grabbed her and rolled her onto her
back.

"It's my turn," I said, as I licked and suckled from
her face to her waist. Then I dipped down to her
honeypot.

I let my fingers do the fucking first. Just one digit,
actually, sliding up and down her slit as I gently blew
over it. Slowly, slowly, and with each stroke Traci got
wetter and wetter. When I finally pushed inside, there
was no resistance at all. Even so, I stopped with just
one knuckle inside, cruising to her clit and back. Only
when she was wriggling and moaning for a couple minutes
did I plunge in further, followed by a second finger. I
pushed and pulled, coating my hand in her fluids, as
Traci bucked up to meet my thrusts.

I let her ride the wave for awhile before I pulled my
fingers out. She humped thin air a few times. When
she'd settled down, I bent forward and kissed her slit.
I was rewarded by a thrumming purr; she knew what was
ahead.

Going down on Traci was like diving face-first into a
cherry pie. Not so sweet, perhaps, but just as hot and
tasty.

I licked her first, until she got so jumpy that I got
more hair than quim. Then I poked my tongue into her. I
couldn't reach in very far, so I tried to make up for
it by being active -- machine-gunning her slit,
nibbling at her clit. She gave me a few suggestions --
in between squeals -- that I immediately put into
effect.

Before long, Traci had her legs sticking high in the
air and her hands were pressing down on my head. I had
to twist to one side or the other every so often just
to take a breath. I'd snuck a finger into her, deep
into her cunt, to push her closer. She howled when I
buried my face in her, spreading her cunt wide while my
tongue and finger drove inside.

But when I had her near the peak, when her ass was
bouncing and the old bed was protesting louder than
ever, she shocked me by grabbing my shoulders and
starting to pull me up.

"What's wrong?" I gasped, wiping her juices away from
my eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Traci said, all out of breath. "You were perfect.
But I need you inside me. I need you now."

And so I quickly scrambled into position, on my knees,
my cock, hard again, waggling between her legs. Traci
licked her own fluids from my face as we kissed
tenderly.

Our mouths were joined as my dick nudged her pussy, so
buttery-slick that I almost entered it without trying.

I considered teasing her, sliding along her slit,
driving her crazy like she drove me. But, truth was, by
that point I wanted it, needed it just as much as Traci
did. I knew what I had been yearning for. I knew what I
craved.

We fit together like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, a
perfect match. My cock split her pussy lips and dove
deep, one smooth straight plunge burying all of me,
flesh swallowing flesh.

We held like that for a moment lost in time, bodies
fully engaged, mouth to mouth, cock to cunt, skin to
skin with nothing in between.

Her legs curled around me, enfolded me, urged me on.
Her arms wrapped me tightly, promising to never let go.
I withdrew my dick, held it poised at her opening,
entered again. The ancient rhythms took us over.

Each stroke was another trip to paradise. For a long
time I lost track of all sensations save those from our
point of most intimate contact. There was a heightened
awareness, as if I could feel every individual cell in
her pussy walls. An electricity, surging from my loins.

Before long, Traci's shouts grew louder, more guttural.
Her orgasm arrived like an earthquake, one tremendous
prolonged convulsion followed by multiple aftershocks.

By the time the last ones were fading I had resumed my
thrusts. Traci matched me. We pounded away, our speed
ever and ever faster until one or the other or both of
us would sag in exhaustion, resting for a bit but then
resuming, rushing to crescendoes we couldn't quite
reach.

My bed shook and shuddered but held fast. "Better made
than some cots I remember," Traci said. With a smile, I
presume, though by then it was so dim I couldn't see
her nose in front of my face.

Though I kept my house cool, our exertions had turned
the bedroom into a sauna. We were covered in sweat,
clinging to each other to keep from sliding apart. The
comforter was a sodden rag wrapped around us. Still we
stroked, measure for measure, a glorious duet. I had to
keep shifting my weight from one arm to the other,
trying to provide relief for my weary muscles.

Even so, I slipped lower and lower until Traci was
taking most of the burden. Her feet planted on the
mattress, she still managed to heave up to meet my
every downthrust.

Yet again and again we rutted. Suddenly I was locked in
a rigid embrace, then riding a bronco, Traci bucking
wildly. At first I could only hold on. Eventually I
regained enough control to push deep into her, once,
twice, and came the familiar feeling, boiling up from
within, shooting out in great gobbets of cum, filling
her up, overflowing.

I'm sure that we cuddled afterward, kissed, murmured
sweet nothings. Or at least that Traci did. As I've
mentioned before, sex is a powerful narcotic for me.

But I awoke in just a couple of hours. As I blinked my
eyes, a lovely vision came into focus. Traci was next
to me. She was on her side, chin propped up on one
hand, staring at me. I couldn't make out her expression
in the shadows, so I hesitated a little, but in the end
I asked.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"What it would be like to wake up every day and see
you."

"And?"

She moved closer so I could see the broad smile on her
face. "And what do you think?" She kissed me
passionately. "I think I'd like it." As she pressed her
young body to me, my erection fit into the valley
between her slim legs. "Mmm. Especially if you have
that kind of welcome for me."

Traci rolled on top of me and plunged her tongue into
my mouth. We luxuriated in a long embrace. But when we
broke our kiss, I made a small grunt of displeasure.

"Something wrong?"

"No, it's just -- well, a bit wet.."

In fact, I felt as if I was trapped in a pile of used
bathing suits. But Traci wasn't about to let that
dampen the mood. In a few seconds we'd ripped off the
bed fittings down to single, dry sheet and she was once
again on top of me.

The candle on the dresser was still lit. Reflected off
the big mirror, it cast a faint, flickering, fluttering
shadow of Traci's sensual profile on the wall beside
us. As I felt her cunt settle on my cock, wrapping me
in hot pleasure, I watched her shadow rise and fall,
proud breasts bobbling.

We made a symphony of love, in perfect harmony. Already
Traci's body was familiar. My hands knew just where to
go. Our pace was slow, each stroke like a drawn-out
note on a violin.

To make the feeling last as long as possible, we would
stop often, with my cock completely embedded in her.
Traci would lean forward until she was stretched out on
my chest. Our mouths would join, in urgent, consuming
kisses. Then she would rise again, lifting up until our
union was all but interrupted, and begin the dance
again.

To me, it was the promise that this would be only the
first of a lifetime of nights together that made it the
most exciting. Sure, there were a lot of issues we'd
have to deal with. I didn't take commitment lightly.
But in the candle's glow and the aura of our passion,
the future looked very bright.

And the present was pretty rosy, too. Traci and I kept
at it for almost an hour. She had two orgasms, each one
temporarily reducing her strength, but she gently put
off my suggestions that we switch positions. The air
grew thick. Several times I thought I was near a
climax, but each time the feeling faded away.

I actually considered the possibility of faking it,
just to give Traci a break. But the feeling of being
inside her was too wonderful. And so she rose and fell
and I met her movements and the candlelight made her
shadow dance on the wall.

When I sensed a tightening in my groin, at first I
thought it was another false warning. But this time it
grew sharper and sharper. Traci must have felt my cock
swell within her, for she began to quicken her pace.

It was a long, long build-up. I groaned in passion and
frustration, desperate for release. Traci cried "Yes,
yes, do it!" over and over, louder each time.

Then it hit, a shattering climax, one great blast
following another. Traci peaked at the same time,
shrieking and digging her nails into my chest.

If the build-up took a long time, the orgasms lasted an
eternity. Buried in Traci's cunt, I stayed hard and
rode out several minutes of her gyrations.

Finally she toppled beside me as my dick slipped out of
her. We both were on our backs, staring up at a black
ceiling. For a long time the only sounds were our
breathing and our heartbeats.

Then we started talking, and we talked all night. At
first, it was mostly insubstantial words of love. As
dawn crept through the window, though, we turned to
deeper issues.

It was some time after that I brought up children, and
my desire to have them.

Traci burrowed her head into my neck. "Right away?" she
asked.

"Well ..." I fumbled for words. "I'm not getting
younger. I want to be able to be a real dad, not some
old guy in a rocker."

"Right away, then."

"If that's what you want, too."

Traci smiled and the sun rose. "I think that can be
arranged. And I think you'll be a wonderful father.
After all, look how well you got on with Jean."

I froze. "Jean? What does that --"

"Jean," Traci said. "The little girl who crawled into
your lap at commencement. That's Jean."

"Oh. Your niece."

Traci giggled. "Niece? No, my sisters were just
watching her for me. Like my mom agreed to last night.
But I really should get going, so I can be there when
she wakes up."

"Then Jean is --"

"My daughter." Traci paused, then lifted her head and
looked me in the eye. I saw the truth even before she
spoke. But the words still were sweet.

"I mean," she said, "our daughter."

She smiled. ÒHappy FatherÕs Day.Ó

THE END