Date: Wed, 07 Jul 1999 18:29:22 EDT
From: Double A
Subject: Bob and Zac: Vive le Montreal Parts 1-2

Disclaimer:

	Okay, when I told you guys that I wouldn't write a sequel unless
you begged and pleaded, I didn't mean for you to flood me with e-mails
asking, begging and pleading me to do so! I'm busy, you guys and...

Aww, who am I kidding! I love all you people, who've read my stories and
had the good nature to let me know! I'd do anything for you and since you
wanted it, you got it!

Well, this story is, as I mentioned, a sequel to "Bob takes some Prozac",
so if you haven't read that, you may not follow this story very well.

Bob might really be gay and so might Zac. Hell, they might actually be
fooling around in real life. However, I have no evidence to prove it, so
this story is to be taken as fiction and not fact. It is just a story and
not a recitation of real-life events...as far as I know. I have the utmost
respect for Bob and his brothers. They are really talented and I love most
every song they've written. Canada rules! As for Zac...Well, regardless of
how I feel about the band that he's a part of, and despite my dislike for
Taylor, I find Zac to be very talented, cute, funny, and sweet.

+++++++++++

Chapter "Une"

On a cool fall afternoon, the Moffatts drove through the Canadian border
and arrived in Montreal, Quebec. The last leg of their world tour was upon
them, and Montreal was their last stop before they headed to the studios in
LA to start recording their second pop album. It was quite difficult for
Robert Peter Franklin Moffatt to constantly traverse the entire world on
tour. It hadn't been before, but he had been feeling very depressed for the
last six months. His depression stemmed from his missing of Zac.

	They arrived at the Ritz-Carlton at around lunchtime, but Bob
wasn't terribly hungry. As the bellhops were loading their bags onto the
cart, Bob turned to his brothers and said, "I'm going for a walk; I may be
some time."

	Scott smiled, "Captain Oates, right?"

	Bob nodded slightly and, without waiting for an answer, walked off
down the street. Scott shook his head sadly and tsk'ed the
situation. Hesitating for a second, he turned to Dave and Clint and said,
"Hey, get yourselves set up upstairs. I'm going to have a little chat with
Bob."

	They nodded in approval and Scott ran off down the street after his
brother. When he got close enough, he reached out and put his hand on Bob's
shoulder. "Bob, come on! What's going on?"

	Bob shrugged off his brother's hand and walked faster, saying "You
don't care! You never cared!"

	Scott chased after him, "Bob, come on! I do care! Is this about
Zac, again?"

	Bob turned around and scowled at his brother, "It's none of your
business! Just...just leave me alone!"

	With that, Bob marched off around the corner and Scott stood there
and watched him go off.

	Bob continued walking and after a few seconds, he peered behind him
and saw that Scott was no longer following him. He stopped and stood there
for a few moments, thinking about what he planned on doing. Spotting an
A.L. Van Houtte, he ducked inside and sat down at one of the tables.

	The air inside was thick with cigarette smoke and he was tempted to
go see if somebody would give him one. Fortunately, the feeling passed and
he concentrated on what he hoped to do. Truth be told, he was quite hungry
as he hadn't eaten since Portland, Maine, over two days ago. He just didn't
feel like it, but his hunger was catching up with him, so he stood up and
walked over to the counter. Waiting in line, it occured to Bob, somewhere
in the back of his mind, that nobody recognized him. That came as a sort of
relief to him, as he was in no mood to deal with fans.

	It was finally his turn to order, and a young woman behind the
counter said, "Oui, est-ce-que je peut aider?"

	Bob sighed and tried to recall what little french he knew,
"Ummm...Oui....Je...I mean, est que tu peut me...ummm....give me..."

	It said a lot about Bob's Canadian heritage if he had trouble
speaking one of the offical languages, but he plodded along, much to the
amusement of the server.

	Finally, he settled on frenglish and said, "Yes, est que you could
donne moi une sandwich de tuna et une cookie de chocolate chip?"

	The girl smiled and went off to get his order. Bob took a deep
breath, his patience wearing very thin. He almost didn't notice his
sandwich sitting on the counter in front of him with his cookie. When he
looked up, the girl gave him another "I have to hear you try to speak
french again" smile and asked, "Est-ce-que tu veut quelque chose de boire?"

	Bob tried hard to understand what she was saying, but could only
come up with, "Would you like something..."

	Seeing the confused look on his face, she walked over to a large
fridge filled with various beverages and said, "Poir boire...Est-ce-que
veut?"

	Bob nodded in understanding and leaned forward, trying to see what
they had. His eyes settled on the very bottom shelf and then straightened
up and said, "Est que je can have une Molson Hi Dry, please?"

	She smiled sweetly at him, similar to the look that a father would
give his 5 year old son, if his son asked him if he could shave like his
daddy was doing.

	"Quel age as tu, jeune?" she inquired.

	Now that was a phrase that Bob had heard before, so he knew it all
to well. It meant, "How old you, kid?"

	He blushed slightly and said, "Fifteen, but please?! Je veut very
badly!"

	She laughed and gave him that smile again, before nodding and
saying, "D'accords, mais ne pas dit au mon gerant, s'il-vous-plait."

	Bob didn't know what that meant, but it must have been positive,
because she got out the beer that he wanted and placed it next to the rest
of his order.

	"Treize dollars et trois cents." she quoted from the register.

	Since it was an old one, where you couldn't actually see the price,
Bob shrugged in confusion again and said, "Quoi?"

	She sighed and said, in perfect english, "Thirteen o'three please."

	Bob's mouth opened in exasperation, "You mean you could speak
english all the time?!"

	She laughed, "Yeah, but it was hilarious to listen to you try and
speak french."

	He couldn't help laughing back as he paid her the desired amount
and took his food over to his table. Sitting down, he immediately went to
finishing off one half of his tuna sandiwich. Once his ravenous hunger was
abated slightly, he twisted off the cap of the beer bottle and took a large
gulp. He put the bottle back down and his head spun for a few seconds. Bob
had been all over the world, but Canadian beer was still the best beer
around. It was damn sure better then the crap that they brew in the states!

	Once he regained his bearings, he lost them again by taking another
big gulp, finishing off the bottle in record time. The 6.5% alcohol was
beginning to effect Bob's thin body, even after only one bottle. Shakily,
he walked back over to the counter, ignoring the stares of the other
patrons, and the girl frowned down at him, "You want another, don't you?"

	Bob looked up and smiled, "Oui, madame."

	She shook her head, "Listen kid...My manager would fire me if he
knew I gave you *one*!"

	Bob shrugged, "Come on! I'm having a real bad day!"

	She smiled, "Aren't we all. Listen, before you make a fool of
yourself, why don't you head down to the Peel Pub and order a whole
pitcher? They'd serve whiskey to a seven-year-old down there."

	Bob nodded, "I just might do that."

	Walking back to the table, he picked up his sandwich and cookie and
walked out of the cafe. He chewed on the second half of his sandwich while
he gazed at the streets. In order to get to Peel Pub, he was going to have
to head down Stanley until he hit University, then walked down until
St. Catherine and, from there, he would have to walk six blocks down.

	Turning around, he walked off toward his destination. For all its
bad raps, Montreal was a hell of a city. It had loads of restaurants, tons
of movie theatres and a very low drinking age. Walking down St. Catherine,
he passed by the Planet Hollywood and and the Super Sex Club, and spotted
an HMV off in the distance. He smiled, still a bit woozy, and jogged off
toward it.

	It was huge, and when he stepped through the doors, he was struck
in the face by the booming sounds of the Moffatts' award-winning song
"Until You Loved Me."

	"Fuck yeah!" Bob muttered under his breath. He walked down the
stairs toward the Pop/Rock section. Once there, he walked up and down,
looking for the Moffatts CDs. When he saw them, he was pleasantly surprised
to see the price for their Canadian release of "Chapter 1" was $22.79.

	"At least these frenchies know valuable music when they hear it."
Bob thought, quickly walking from the music store before somebody
recognized him.

	After leaving HMV, he walked down a few more blocks and reached the
entrance to the Peel Pub. He walked down the stairs and entered the smoke
filled room. He walked over and took a seat next to the television, so he
could watch the NFL game that was playing. It looked to be the Broncos
visiting the Dolphins. He hadn't had much time to sit down and see what the
score was, before a waiter walked over to his table and said, "So, what can
I getcha, sport?"

	Bob was relieved to see that he was speaking english, and said,
"Yeah, I'd like a pitcher of Molson Hi Dry, please."

	Bob was slightly fearful that the guy would card him, and hoped
that his embarrased blush wasn't visible in the slightly dim light of the
pub.

	He was relieved when the waiter said, "Would you like a small
pitcher or a large pitcher?"

	"What's the difference?" Bob inquired.

	The waiter thought for a moment, then responded, smiling, "Well, a
small pitcher can be easily drank by a single person, provided they are
thristy and like beer. A large pitcher, however, might make it difficult
for a young guy like you to get up and walk out afterwards, without the
room spinning like a top."

	Bob smiled, "Well, how many glasses are in each pitcher."

	"A small pitcher has about six glasses in it, while a large pitcher
has about twelve."

	Bob nodded, "Okay, I'll take the large pitcher."

	The waiter smiled, "Are you sure? It's a lot of beer!"

	Bob nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure."

	The waiter shrugged and walked off to place the order. Bob reached
into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Hitting redial, he sat back in
his chair and waited impatiently for his regular, once a week conversation
to Zac.

	After what seemed like forever, the line clicked.

	"What's up, hot lips?"

	Bob smiled and replied, "Not much, Zackie. Just sitting here and
drinking my woes away."

	Zac laughed and replied, "Well, I got something that might chase
those woes away."

	"I don't think you can do that sort of thing over the phone." Bob
quipped.

	Zac laughed again and said, "Look, I can't talk now, because I'm
sitting in a restaurant bathroom. When the phone started to ring, I headed
there so I could talk to you more privately. Suffice it to say, I know that
you're in Montreal and I'll be there in five hours."

	If Bob had been drinking, he would have sprayed it from his mouth
when Zac had said that. As it was, Bob was close to passing out. With his
other hand, he ran his fingers through his hair as he repeated, "You'll be
here in five hours?! What...I mean, how...."

	Zac interuppted him, "Can't talk now. A guy in here is taking a
wicked crap and it's starting to stink. I'll call you as soon as I get in."

	Tears began flowing down Bob's face, "I...I mean...I can't wait."

	"See you soon, Bob. I love you."

	Bob sniffled, "I love you too."

	After the line cut off and Bob hit the disconnect button, he
stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He sniffled away his tears and
almost laughed out loud. After over six months of loneliness, he was going
to see his one true love again.

	He thought about all the wonderful things he was going to do with
Zac. Montreal had no shortage of places to go, and had a huge gay community
which they could check out.

	He was still thinking about it when the waiter came with a huge
pitcher of amber liquid and a large mug.

	The guy set them down in front of Bob and said, "Here you
go...Mr. Moffatt. Am I right?"

	Bob blushed and nodded.

	The waiter smiled, "I knew it! I figured it out back in the
kitchen. I don't suppose you want me to announce it to the whole bar."

	Bob shook his head, "Please don't."

	The waiter nodded, "Well, okay. Can I have your autograph, though?
My daughter would kill me if she knew I met you and didn't get
something. She's always talking about you and Scott."

	Bob nodded, smiling, and, taking a napkin off the table, he said,
"Do you have a pen?"

	The waiter handed him his pen and said, "Her name is Geena."

	Bob wrote on the napkin,

	"Dear Geena,

	 your dad serves a really nice pitcher of beer.

	 I hope you get a chance to come to one of our concerts soon.

	 Love,
	 Bob"

	He handed it to the waiter who smiled and shook his hand, "Enjoy
your beer, Bob."

	The waiter than walked away and Bob poured his first glass of
beer. Now, though, instead of drinking away his woes, he was celebrating.


Chapter "Deux"

	Somehow, Bob managed to drink all twelve glasses of beer and finish
the pitcher.

	The details following that are sketchy at best. Bob could barely
remember being helped up the stairs, and only just managed to recall
slurring to the driver of a taxi to take him back to the hotel.

	He did recall, however, vomiting into the flowerpot in the main
lobby. After that, things became quite clear, and he could honestly recall
taking the elevator back up to his room and, when questioned about where he
was by Scott, Bob simply collapsed on one of the beds and promptly passed
out.

	He was awakened some time later, by the ringing of the phone. He
groggily reached over and picked the phone by the bed up off the hook.

	"Hello?" he groaned, but all he heard was a dialtone. Then he
realized that the phone that was ringing was in his pocket.

	He pulled it out and and, opening it up, said, "Yeah?"

	The grogginess was forced out of him by a shouted, "HEY MAN!" on
the other line.

	Bob shot awake and fell out of bed. Shaking some of the cobwebs, he
picked up the phone and said, "Zac...Zat you, man?"

	There was a pause and then, "Bob...Nobody else uses this line, do
they? Of course it's me!"

	Bob groaned and said, "Oh, of course. So, what's up?"

	"Geez, you sound like shit. Did I wake you?"

	Bob laughed, which hurt his head, and said, "Sorta, but it's okay."

	"Great! So, where are ya? I wanna come see you!"

	Bob looked around and then said, "I'm at the Ritz-Carleton on
Stanley street. Room 506."

	"Great, I'll be there in twenty minutes!"

	With that, the line disconnected. Bob closed the phone up and
decided to make some use of the coffee maker to try and get some sense into
him.

	Almost a half an hour later, Bob was on his third cup of bitter
black coffee, when there was a knock at the door. On his way over to open
it, he noticed the note by the closet that said that his brothers had gone
out for a few hours and would be back when Bob was sober...Whatever that
meant.

	He slowly opened the door and was caught off guard, as Zac flung
himself against him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him
tight. It didn't take long before Bob was reciprocating.

	After several seconds, they slowly detached and Bob looked over
Zac. He didn't look much different then when he last saw him. He looked a
bit more muscular and had a small zit on his chin, but was still fantastic
looking.

	They just stood and stared at each other for several seconds, until
finally Bob leaned forward and kissed Zac's beautiful lips soundly.

	Zac seperated soon after and grimaced, "Your mouth tastes horrible,
Bob!"

	Bob nodded, "Yeah, well I had a bit too much to drink."

	Zac smiled again and, reaching forward, rubbed his hand over Bob's
T-shirt covered chest, "Does that mean that your inhibitions are lowered?"
He cooed.

	Bob smiled and answered Zac's question by grabbing Zac's hand into
his own and licking over each finger slowly, before sucking it into his
mouth.


	Zac looked somewhat worried as he pulled his hand away and said,
"What about your brothers? What if they come home and find us...you
know..."

	Bob shrugged, "To hell with them! I'm not even sure if this is
nothing but a dream or not, so I'm going to do as much as I can before I
wake up."

	With that, Bob grabbed Zac into his arms and wrestled him over to
the bed. As Zac hit the mattress, he protested with, "Well, this isn't a
dream, Bob. I haven't even told you why I'm here, yet! Don't you..."

	Zac's voice trailed off as Bob quickly pulled down Zac's jogging
pants and stuffed his hand inside his boxers.

	"Oh God!" Zac groaned as Bob clenched his fist around Zac's
semi-erect penis and began violently stroking it.

	Zac reluctantly slapped Bob's wrist and made him withdraw his hand.

	Smiling, with his face slightly flushed, Zac said, "Bob, my drunk
friend...Would you at least be so kind as to go under the covers with me?"

	Bob smiled and pulled aside the covers. Zac kicked his jogging
pants off and his socks and shoes off his feet and Bob pulled off his
socks, shoes and jeans as well.

	Going under the heavy blankets wearing only boxers, Bob and Zac
kissed and rubbed against each other.

	"Oh, I missed you so much, Zac!" Bob said as wrapped his arms
around Zac and hugged him tightly.

	Zac hugged Bob back and rubbed his hands over Bob's back, "I missed
you too. I thought about you every day."

	Bob detached himself from Zac and got to his knees. Looking down at
the prone figure of the love of his life, Bob took Zac's hand into his own
again and squeezed it, "I thought about you all the time. I cried every
time after we spoke. I can't live without you anymore!"

	Zac propped himself up against the backboard and smiled, "Geez, you
really seem to have it bad, don't you?"

	Bob continued to cry, and pressed Zac's hand against his face,
taking in the sweet odour of his fingers.

	"Aren't you at all interested to why I'm here, hot lips?"

	Bob sighed and nodded.

	Zac lay back down and looking at Bob, said, "Lie beside me and I'll
tell you."

	Bob lay down beside Zac, still holding his hand.

	"Well," Zac began, "my brothers and I were in New York City for the
release of our new album and I figured that, since you were so close by, I
could just catch an express Greyhound across the border to see you."

	"So, when are you leaving?" Bob asked sadly.

	Zac smiled his largest smile and said, "Whenever you want me to,
love. My brothers have no plans for a tour right now, and I told them I was
going to visit you and I may be a while."

	Bob smiled too and, leaning forward, kissed Zac and said, "What if
I never want you to leave? What if I ask you to be with me forever and ever
and wake up beside me every day for the rest of my life?"

	Zac laughed, "You did drink a lot, didn't you? Well, how long are
you guys staying here?"

	"Only a week, but I want you to come with me when we leave."

	Zac smiled, "We'll talk about it when you're sane, Bob. Right now,
I should probably go find a hotel room."

	With that, Zac pulled his hand from Bob's and slowly slid out of
bed and began getting dressed again.

	Bob slid out too, and stepped on Zac's clothes to prevent him from
getting them.

	Zac turned around, "Bob...I need my clothes."

	Bob crossed his arms across his chest, "I won't let you leave,
Zac. You just got here!"

	Zac smiled, "We'll do something tommorow morning, I promise. Right
now, I really have to go."

	Bob shook his head, "You're staying right here. You can sleep in my
bed with me!"

	Zac laughed, "When you're not drunk anymore, you'll realize what a
stupid idea that is."

	Bob smiled, "I'm not drunk anymore! I slept it off! Seriously! I
really want you to stay. In fact, I'm ordering you to stay!"

	Zac waved his fingers in the air in a mock fear reaction, "Ooooh,
Mr. Bob Moffatt is ordering me to stay."

	Bob leaned forward and grabbed Zac in his arms. Looking deep into
Zac's milk chocolate brown eyes, he said, "Zac...I love you. I don't know
about you, but I went through six months of hell without you. I don't want
you to leave me anymore...I want you to be with me forever."

	Zac nodded, his puppy dog eyes showing regret, "I'm so sorry you
feel that way, Bob. I didn't know you were that serious about this. I mean,
I'm only almost 14...I don't know if I'm ready for a real
relationship...Especially not a gay one."

	Bob let go of Zac and took a few steps back. With tears flowing
down his face, he cried, "So what did we do back in Vancouver?! What did we
talk about on the phone for the past six months?! You...you called me 'hot
lips'! You said you loved me!"

	Zac shrugged, "Bob, I...It was fun...you know. I like you and it
was really cool to have someone to fool around with. I wanted to keep in
touch with you, but...It was sort of like...a game."

	"A game?!" Bob sobbed, exasperated, "You mean everything you
said...Everything we shared...was a fucking *game*?!"

	Zac quickly grabbed his clothes, "I'm so sorry, Bob. I just...I
don't know if I'm even gay or what! Besides, do you really think our
brothers...hell, our families, would accept this?! Do you really think we
could just run off together?! You're not even old enough to have a driver's
license and I still get scared when I watch horror movies!"

	"You...you said you loved me, though!" Bob sobbed.

	Zac began to cry too, as he slowly got dressed again. Looking at
Bob, so pitifully sobbing, he walked over to him and said, "Listen...I
would really like to be with you! I know I would! I just...I don't how to
be a boyfriend...I don't know if I can be the one that you want."

	"I don't want anybody else." Bob cried.

	Zac sat down on the bed which Bob had collapsed on to. Putting his
hand on Bob's leg, he said, "I'm so nervous, Bob. My brother's would kill
me if people found out that I was gay!"

	Bob nodded, sniffling, "Mine too, but I don't care. If you want to
be with me, we'll figure something out! If not...I guess I could be your
friend."

	Zac squeezed Bob's thigh with his hand and, looking up at his
sobbing face, he said, "I don't know what I want, Bob. Honestly, I don't. I
came here today as a friend...I never knew you were going to put me on the
spot like this."

	Bob nodded, "I'm sorry...I'm just so in love with you, that I can't
think straight."

	Zac smiled, "You really do love me, don't you?"

	Bob nodded sadly, "More than anything."

	Zac nodded, "I wish I knew what I really feel. I guess I could
sleep on it."

	Bob nodded, "Okay, you can go...I'll talk to you tommorow."

	Zac shook his head, "Actually, I think I might be able to make a
better decision if I sleep on it...with you."

	Bob smiled, "Are you sure?"

	Zac shrugged, "I don't know, but I do know is that I really don't
want to leave."

	Bob nodded, "But what if you decide that you don't want the same
thing I do?"

	Zac shook his head, "Bob...If you truly love me as much as say you
do, then you'll understand it, if I decide that I just don't want the same
things you do."

	Bob sadly nodded in agreement.

	Zac patted the mattress behind him, "So, do you want to sleep on it
now?"

	Bob smiled, "Can we have sex first?"

	Zac smiled, "Hey! You're the older one and I'm just the innocent
puppy! Do to me what you want!"

	In record time, Zac stripped down to his boxers again and he and
Bob snuggled back under the covers.

	Within the encased warmth, Bob grabbed Zac's hand and began sucking
on his fingers again, while rubbing his hot body all over Zac's.

	Zac rubbed the growing bulge in the front of his boxers with his
free hand and said, "You know, sweetie...I'm sure you can find other things
to suck on..."

	Bob sucked hard on the middle finger on Zac's right hand, then
smiled and said, "Awww....Is little Zackie getting horny?"

	Zac bit his lower lip and nodded, "Little Zackie needs some lovin
right now, dammit!"

	Bob scooted closer to Zac under the covers and, with Zac's help,
pulled down his boxers to around his knees. Zac's beautiful penis sprung
straight out, erect and already red and glistening with pubescent lust,
sitting in his small nest of blond pubic hair.

	"So how do you want it?" Bob said, enjoying the power.

	"I don't care!" Zac exclaimed.

	Bob smiled and, leaning forward, ran his tongue up the shaft and
over the circumcised head. Zac reached forward and grabbed Bob's hair in
his hands, "Oh fuck!" he groaned.

	Bob ran his slimy pink tongue over the slit at the end of Zac's
dick, scooping up a few drops of the tangy liquid that drooled out.

	Zac squeezed Bob's hair tighter and arched his back, "Unnnnnh, Oh
God! Please suck me!"

	Reaching forward, he grasped Zac's dick shaft in his fist and
quickly sank his mouth over just the very tip. Using his tongue, he traced
elaborate patterns over the sensative area.

	"Jesus fucking christ!" Zac groaned, "I'm gonna fucking blow your
head off!"

	Bob's hands reached up to Zac's chest and began to play with his
erect nipples, pinching and twisting them between his fingers.

	Zac squealed and moaned and, no longer able to resist, began
violently thrusting hard into Bob's mouth, his fists detached from Bob's
hair and now simply pounding the mattress.

	"Oh geez! I'm gonna fucking cum! Aaaaaaaarrggh!" Zac screamed, and,
with a final thrust into Bob's mouth, his orgasm hit hard and, his fists
clenching, he continued to slam his crotch against Bob's mouth.

	Bob could feel Zac's cock expand in his mouth and blast stream
after gooey stream of sticky semen into his mouth. Zac's dick came out of
Bob's mouth after the third spurt and blasted a fourth one all over Bob's
lips and chin.

	Finally, Zac collapsed back against the mattress and let out a long
exhale. Bob crawled on top of him and, leaning down, kissed him hard on his
ruby lips, extending his tongue and sweeping Zac's mouth with a thin layer
of his own juices.

	Zac grimaced and laughed, "What...*sputter*...What did you do that
for?"

	Bob swallowed whatever cum was left and, sweeping his face with his
finger, scooped the rest of it into his mouth and swallowed that too. His
mouth clear, he looked down at Zac and said, "Come on! Haven't you ever
licked your fingers after you jacked off?"

	Zac shook his head, "Nope...But you know...I don't taste half bad!"

	Bob smiled and, laying down next to Zac, his arm on Zac's chest, he
said, "I know...You actually taste quite good."

	"What about you?"

	Bob laughed, "I've tasted myself quite a few times, Zackie."

	Zac shook his head and, turning toward Bob, said, "No. I mean,
would you like me to get you off?"

	Bob smiled and said, "Do you want to?"

	"Hell yeah!" Zac replied.

	With that, Zac moved over on top of Bob and, pulling down his
boxers, contemplated what he would do.

	TO BE CONTINUED...

	Will Zac agree to be Bob's? What will Bob's brothers say when they
come home to find the two boys naked in bed together? What will both of
their parents say? How often to you think Bob and Zac jerk off...really?

	These questions and more, will be answered in the coming chapters!
Je veux retourner!