Date: Fri, 2 Nov 2012 14:56:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann Subject: DELTA IOTA KAPPA 16 This is a fictional story about college and fraternity life. It contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such is offensive to you or if you are not of an age where reading such material is legal, please move on. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story. Please also keep these stories available to all without charge. Contribute what you can to nifty.org. DELTA IOTA KAPPA by Macout Mann Chapter 16 Problems and Solutions James and the other officers got to spend almost three weeks at home before returning to campus. James dad said that he appreciated not having all those fifty pound boxes of documents arriving all summer, but he couldn't understand what kept James at Sanderson almost all summer long. "Well, we have to collate the responses to all the data in those boxes, and come up with a list of prospectives," James responded. "That's a big job. And some of us have to really become comfortable with our duties. Don't want the year to start and we blunder all over the place." "I know you've got a lot of responsibility. Your mother and I are really proud of all you've accomplished in college." James' vacation sped quickly by. He and Bill Hudson enjoyed each other as often as they could. And by the time he returned east, James was completely rested. He needed to be. He had no idea how great the demands on his time would be as president. It was a fulfilling job. He appreciated the visits from the old boys, most of whom made contributions to the cause. He relished his position on the Inter-fraternity Council, where he was treated as first among equals. He enjoyed being the "decider," when rare conflicts among brothers developed. He was very pleased with the pledge class. Not a questionable one among them, he felt. He and George maintained their close friendship. It was to last throughout their lives. He would become Governor of Texas, George a professor at Harvard and also a trustee at Sanderson. James would always remember meeting with Judge Blaylock the first time he visited after James was installed. They exchanged the ritual DIKa greeting. Then as they talked, the trustee said, "James, I remember when I first saw you. I thought then that you had a remarkable quality about you then. I was really pleased that you and George had become friends. I hope you will remain so." "You can count on that," James replied. Not too many days into the term James decided that he had to give up debate. It would require time he just couldn't spare with all his other duties. "I understand," the coach told him. "Besides, having won a national title, there's not anywhere else for you to go. But Jensen can carry on, and I hope he'll bring up somebody to be as good as he is." So James was riding on a cloud. Then, about three weeks after classes began Jason Winters came to see him. Jason was a junior, mentor to Kenneth McDougal. "McDougal wants to de-pledge," he said. "He's hung up about the sex." "You've talked to him? "'Til I was blue in the face. It's serious. "I told him he needed to see you." "Well," James said, "Tomorrow's Saturday. Why don't you bring him down after breakfast?...No, on second thought, wait until about ten. Tell him I'm busy until ten. Let him get a little apprehensive." Promptly at ten Jason and McDougal arrived at James' quarters. James had reread McDougal's prospective file, but he was strictly flying by the seat of his pants, when he welcomed them. He did wear his tennis letter sweater and his Delta Iota Kappa blazer; and his study with its executive desk and side chairs also had to be intimidating to the freshman. "Hello, Kenneth," he began, "please sit down. "Brother Winters tells me you want to de-pledge." "Yessir, I do." "That's certainly your privilege," James continued, "but, you know, we haven't had anyone de-pledge for about twenty years, and then it happened right away during orientation week. I wouldn't want you to do something you might regret later. You know, once out, there's no way back in. "Do you mind telling me why you're considering this?" "Well the stuff you guys are doing is just wrong?" the eighteen-year-old answered. "Stuff?" James countered. "Yeah. Getting naked and touching each other and...sucking on each other. It's wrong!" James had taken a public speaking course in the art of persuasion. He never thought he'd have to bring its precepts to bear, certainly not this soon. "We can certainly understand how you may see that sucking is wrong. But let's look for a second at nudity. Have you ever been swimming in the Sanderson pool?" "No. I don't swim much." "Then you may not know that, except for the one free swim on Sunday afternoon where both men and women swim together—you don't know that men are required to be nude to swim in P. E. classes or in free swim sessions." "They are?" "Yes. It's a health requirement. Do you think that's wrong, Kenneth?" "I...I dunno. I guess it must be o.k." "You see," James suggested, "couples wear swimming gear, because the university thinks that modesty is the order of the day, when men and women are together in public. It doesn't think that's necessary when men are with each other. "And, you know, a lot of civilized peoples haven't thought public nudity was a problem. For instance...do you know what the athletes wore at the ancient Olympic Games? "I never thought about it," Kenneth answered. "They didn't wear a thing. Just oiled up their bodies and went at it. Nobody watching gave it a second thought." Then, knowing the answer, James asked, "Do you have brothers and sisters, Kenneth?" "No. I'm an only child." "Well, I have a younger sister, who's a pain, and I'm real modest around her. But I've got friends who have brothers, and most of them don't think anything about being naked around each other. You have brothers at home, don't you, Jason?" "Yeah, one older and two still in high school. We never worry about showing off our bods to each other." "Sure enough," James added. "And, Kenneth, that's not only because they're guys, but they're brothers. They don't have to worry about putting up some sort of front around each other. And some dads and sons feel the same way. It's no big thing." "My mom and dad were divorced when I was six. I haven't seen him in years." "But can you understand what I'm saying about brothers? They can afford to be around each other and not have any hangups." "I guess." "Well, you see, that's why we DIKas always undress before we go into the chapter room. We are brothers. We want to feel close like brothers are close. We don't want to have any hangups around each other. And when the chapter meets together, we want to bare our souls to each other in true brotherhood. And the way we do that is to bare our bodies. "Now I'm not saying that all fraternities do that. `Different strokes for different folks,' as the saying goes. But Delta Iota Kappa has done that for way over a hundred years, and the bonding that it has created among all the members has made it the best fraternity in the world, we think. Certainly the best on campus. Anybody will tell you that." "Yeah. That's sure true," Kenneth admitted. James was warming to his task. Changing the subject, he continued. "You know, most of us are brought up thinking intimacy--that is close physical intimacy--is off limits. But psychologists tell us that's what most of us really long for. "Let's see...you play third base, right? When you hit a home run and a teammate gives you a pat on the back or on the butt, doesn't that make you feel good?" "Yeah..." The kid was thinking. "Well, back around the time of the Civil War, when the DIKa greeting, shaking each other's penises, was devised, the intent was the same. Nothing sexual about it. We want to indicate that, as brothers, we can be about as intimate as you can be. And as DIKas, we can be intimate in a way that nobody else can be. "As I say, there's nothing sexual about it. Sure, we may get a hard-on when we do it. Difficult not to when somebody's touching you. Is for me, anyway. But our unique greeting symbolizes our close relationship in a way almost nothing else can. "Does that make sense, Kenneth?" "I never thought of it that way," the pledge admitted. Now James moved to the most sensitive area of his argument. He continued to be very careful in his choice of words. "Now, I know that we are all brought up to believe that putting your lips on another guy's dick or letting another guy put his on yours is something that only homosexuals—that only queers do. So that makes us a queer frat, right? "Uh...I thought so...maybe" "And you've probably heard that I'm gay." "You?....but..." James had to smile at the pledge's contradictory feelings. "Not all queers are limp-wristed fairies," He said. "Yes, Kenneth, I am gay, but most of my best friends are straight, and that includes the vast majority of my fraternity brothers, including your roommate and mentor, Jason here. "You don't have anything to worry about with him, and more important, you don't have anything to worry about with me. Or with the few other gay or bi brothers in DIKa. Surveys say that five, maybe ten percent of the male population is gay. We're way below the ten percent. And none of us that like guys have the hots for guys that don't like guys, if you know what I mean. "`So,' you say, `what about what happened up in the chapter room during orientation?' "I wasn't there, and I don't know exactly what Gary told you—he's got to be one of the most masculine guys on campus, by the way—but I think he mentioned that a lot of cultures never looked at sex among men the way our culture has. And closer to home, we can look at the American Indians. Their culture considers man-to-man sex a part of the growing-up process. And that sure doesn't turn all of them into faggots." "I've never heard anything like that about them," Kenneth managed to say. "No. You don't hear a lot about a whole lot of things that go on. Even in our own culture, we don't go around talking about the experimenting young boys do. You know what I mean, Jason." "You bet," Jason laughed, fortunately breaking the tense atmosphere. "`You let me see yours and I'll let you see mine.' `I'll jack off if you will too.' Or, `you jack me and I'll jack you.'" "I never did any of that," Kenneth somberly said. "And, Ken," James continued, " that's the first reason we have the sexual orientation session. Delta Iota Kappa wants us to be broad-minded. And in America, sex is the one thing that our minds are narrowest about. We want DIKas to look at every new thing without preconceptions. "The other reason we have sexual orientation is to prepare you for initiation. "You may have noticed that DIKa doesn't haze. Most fraternities do, even in the face of the rules a lot of schools have against it. And I might say that some of the hazing has sexual activity involved. I've been told about one frat that gets pledges naked, blindfolds them, and sticks a dildo up their asses, so they think they're being raped. They think that builds comradeship and brotherhood. "We don't do any of that shit, because we believe in true brotherhood. "And this may seem strange to you. Yes, you did see Gary suck off one of your fellow pledges; and yes, you did see the pledge master suck off Gary. And yes, if you are initiated you will suck and be sucked. That's the only time in your life you will have to have sex with another male, if that's the way you want it. "Most pledges are curious enough to want to experiment with another guy. You'd have to be blind not to be aware that's been going on. But no one had better be encouraging you in that direction, if you don't want to go there. They'll have to answer to me." "I didn't even know..." "That's fine. What you do need to know, Ken, is why oral sex is in the initiation. The reason is simple. Sex is the most intimate thing two people can engage in. And by ritually, and I emphasize `ritually' exchanging your seed with another DIKa's, you create a bond that will never be broken. You are welcomed into a brotherhood like no other. `All for one and one for all.' "More than sex, it becomes a symbol, almost a sacrament. And that's why Delta Iota Kappa doesn't feel that anything we do is wrong. And why the bond that you create when you become a member will last all through your life." No one spoke. Finally James continued. "As I said, Kenneth, if you wish to de-pledge, that is your decision. I hope you will decide not to. I'd like for you to think about it. Talk to Brother Winters about it. Talk to your fellow pledges or any of the actives. Catch Gary Higgins, when he's back from football practice some evening. "Most weeks at least one old boy visits the chapter. I'd be happy to introduce you, and I'm sure any of them would be happy to answer any questions you still may have. Judge Blaylock, who's on the Sanderson Board of Trustees, is a DIKa. You know his son. George is our treasurer. The judge probably won't be back on campus before November, but I'll be glad to call him. I know he'd be happy to talk to you about your feelings. We want you to make the right decision for you." "Thank you, sir," was all McDougal could say. He and Winters left the room. James sure as hell didn't want to have the first guy in twenty years to de-pledge to do it on his watch. He waited for over a week, holding his breath. Jason Winters kept him posted. He and McDougal had talked several times. He knew McDougal had talked to several others who had counseled him against de-pledging. McDougal had even summoned the courage to talk to Sanderson's quarterback and DIKa's sex lecturer, Gary Higgins. No old boy showed up. James half wished Cockrell would put in an appearance. He could handle the situation, although James was also afraid Cockrell might seduce the poor kid. James was in his study, when he heard a very tentative knock on the door. "Come in," he said. It was Kenneth McDougal. He walked over to James' desk. James had a lump in his throat as big as a tennis ball. "I'm sorry," the pledge began. "I didn't understand. I want to be a DIKa." Tears welled up in the youngster's eyes. James stood and walked around the desk. He took the freshman in his arms, hugged him, and said, "I'm glad." Later that night George showed up, bringing Max with him. "I hear you got some good news," George said. "You can say that again," James grinned. Max knew better than to ask what the good news might be. "We thought you could use some relaxation," George added, as he locked the door. Both he and Max led James into his bedroom and undressed him. Max attacked his suddenly erect dick, while George nibbled on his equally excited pecs. It was going to be the end of a perfect day. No issue rising to the level of the McDougal problem arose for the rest of the fall term. When Simon Blaylock did come by in November, James asked George introduce Kenneth to his father. Kenneth was duly impressed. Christmas vacation came and went. There was some excitement in January, when John McEnroe, the most recent Wimbledon champion, visited the campus. An exhibition match was arranged between him and James. James lost, of course, but played much better than expected, actually winning one of the sets. Shortly after that, the officers consulted and nominated a new slate, who were duly elected and began their training leading up to their installation in late May. Then in March, James' second big problem loomed. The Rev. Pascal Richardson had received his bachelor's from Sanderson in 1958. Had served as DIKa's pledge master that year. He had gone on to the Kellogg School at Northwestern to receive an MBA and joined Chicago's Harris Bank as a Trust Officer. Was on a fast track to a vice presidency, when he got religion. He enrolled in the Master of Arts in Theology program at Wheaton College, near Chicago, and was awarded that degree in 1967. He was ordained by a Baptist congregation, and served as assistant pastor of a large church in Peoria for two years. Then he started an independent radio ministry on a small station there. His ministry grew to encompass several stations throughout the Midwest. He never gained the reputation of a Robertson or Falwell, but made a decent living from the offerings sent in by faithful listeners. "Folks, if you want this good work to continue, we've got to hear from you." He had decided to expand his ministry eastward and had an ulterior motive, when he chose Virginia as the place to start. He found a promising tidewater station to buy time on, and then revisited Sanderson and Delta Iota Kappa. James welcomed him, as he would any old boy. Unlike most old boys, Pascal Richardson did not unzip when he entered James' study, so James did not respond with the traditional greeting. He did invite his guest to sit, and he asked about Richardson's life after Sanderson, as he would have of any old boy he didn't already know. In response the minister told James about his radio program, making it sound much more widely circulated than it actually was, and said that he was now going to be spreading the gospel in Virginia. James found his guest sort of strange, but thought that it takes all kinds. His assessment was confirmed, when Richardson started to reveal the real purpose of his visit. "I've been praying about you boys," he began. "Thank you," James replied. "I suspect we all need to be prayed for." "The sinful goings on in this house must stop!" Richardson asserted. "Sinful goings on?" James acted perplexed." "You know very well what I mean!" his guests cied. "I was a part of it, and I know it still goes on!" "Sin?" James repeated. He was determined to make the man state his accusation. "All the abominable homosexual activity that is rampant here!" Richardson spat. "If you don't put an end to it, I will tell the world about it on my radio program." "I wouldn't characterize anything that goes on here as `abominable homosexual activity'" James very calmly replied, "and as a DIKa I am really surprised that you would." The conversation continued. Richardson found that James could spar with the best of them. After all, he was a national debating champion. Finally, an exasperated Richardson said, "Well, I didn't expect that you would do the decent thing. The Lord told me you wouldn't. And that's why he suggested an alternate course of action to me. A penance, as it were. "I promise not reveal your abominations, if you will support the Lord's work by contributing to my ministry. I know that Delta Iota Kappa is probably the wealthiest Greek letter organization in the country. I know that you in fact do own Commonwealth Bank, and that you are very generous in giving to the charities that you men fancy. I think that a gift of, say, seven-fifty a month would be appropriate. The Lord is not greedy." "I see," James said. "Of course you realize that the decision is not mine to make." James' continued to keep his cool and that infuriated Richardson. "Perhaps," he suggested, "I should talk to the person who can make the decision." "You want to strip and discuss this with the brothers in the chapter room?" James could hardly keep a straight face. "Get back with me in a couple of weeks." James stood, signaling that the interview was over. He could easily have been head of a 500 corporation. He had been taught well. This was not something he should share with the other officers and certainly not with the president elect. The person he needed to contact was Ronald Cockrell. He had guided the Baucum thing to a successful conclusion. He would know what to do. And there was one DIKa officer whom he needed to get with, the proctor. Delta Iota Kappa had six officers. Number six seemed to have no duties. The brothers, including the other four officers, all thought it was a totally honorary position. The proctor originally was in charge of enforcing penalties on miscreants. DIKa had had no miscreants probably since some of the brothers fought on the wrong side in the War of Northern Aggression. While the Archivist, who was always a junior, kept the public history of the fraternity, it was the Proctor who cataloged the prospectives' data, the notes made by officers and other private data about members; and most importantly, the Proctor catalogued the films. Since the year The Wizard of Oz hit the theatres, hidden cameras had recorded the goings on at DIKa initiations. Rather than rolling at the standard twenty-four-frames-per-second, however, these movies were made at the rate of one frame every two seconds, allowing a roll of 35mm film to record stills of every event at the meeting. The proctor selected pictures of each new member and cataloged them. The fraternity had a picture of each active sucking and being sucked all the way back to 1939. James asked for a complete file on Pascal Richardson. When he talked to Cockrell, the older man said he would immediately come to Sanderson. He was there the next day. He and James reviewed the situation, Cockrell looked at the data the proctor had provided, and they agreed on a plan. The first thing that James was to do was to have his study wired for sound. Then he was to wait for Richardson's call. After their business was completed, Cockrell said, "I've enjoyed our time together so much, James. I'm sorry that after a few weeks we'll probably never get together again." "I am too, Ronald. It has been fun." He waited for Cockrell's familiar overture, a reach over to feel James' ample dick. "You want it up your ass?" he asked. "Wherever you want to put it," Cockrell answered. They didn't bother to lock the door. Everybody knew what was happening, if Cockrell stayed anyplace longer than ten minutes. Everybody except maybe Kenneth McDougal. In James bed, Cockrell moistened the younger man's dick with his hungry mouth and lifted his legs to allow James to spear his well-used ass. James didn't think this would really be the last time, but he fucked the old boy like it was. He rammed his dick against Cockrell's ass cheeks, pulled back, and rammed again. Harder and harder, faster and faster, then with shorter and shorter strokes, until he dumped his load into older man's colon. "Thanks, man," Cockrell panted. James counted the days. Eighteen before a call came from Peoria. "When can you be here?" James asked. "Why do we have to meet?" Richardson snapped. "We have to work things out with the bank, and make sure everything's legal," James replied, calmly as ever. "If you want to go through with the deal, you'll come." A meeting was set up, and one week later Richardson arrived to greet James waiting with Cockrell in James' study. Cockrell was seated at James desk. "This is Mr. Ronald Cockrell," James said by way of introduction. "He's a DIKa too. And he'll be representing the fraternity and Commonwealth Bank." Before Richardson could protest, Cockrell began, "Now Mr. Richardson, you understand that although we are agreeing to pay you $750 each month for as long as your ministry is active in exchange for your not revealing certain information, the nature of this information is never to be made public. Is that correct?" "Yes." Cockrell continued in the same vein, as if he were reciting terms of a contract. Each time he would ask, "Is that correct?" Each time Richardson would reply, "Yes." Finally, Cockrell said, "So that's all we need." "Will the payments start this month?" Richardson asked. "Oh no," Cockrell said, "Delta Iota Kappa isn't paying you a dime." "What do you mean?" Richardson was incredulous. Cockrell for the first time opened a large manila envelope that lay on the desk. He extracted two eight-by-ten photographs and laid them in front of Richardson. "You're not the only one who can blackmail," he gloated. "What are these vile pictures?" Richardson asked. "They are pictures of you at your DIKa initiation...although we don't need to say where they were taken, just who they were taken of. Think of how few dollars your precious donors will contribute after they've seen these." Horror struck, Richardson then recognized the figures in the pictures. "I'll say that's not me," he said. "I don't look anything like either of those people." Cockrell removed another photo from the envelope. "But one of those people looks exactly like your yearbook picture," he smiled. While Richardson was digesting the import of what he was looking at. Cockrell stood and crossed to a nearby bookshelf. "Making those pictures public will destroy your career all right," he continued, "but this can put you in jail." He moved aside some pamphlets and pushed the "play" button on the recorder that was revealed. "Now Mr. Richardson, you understand..." Cockrell's voice said. James spoke for the first time. "You are a disgrace not only to your ministry, `Brother' Richardson, you have also disgraced yourself as a Delta Iota Kappa. "This decision is mine to make. We will not bring charges against you, so long as you go back to Peoria and forget that you were ever a DIKa or ever set foot in this house. You can be sure that if you ever say anything about Delta Iota Kappa, these pictures will be released and this tape will be turned over to the authorities. And I'm sure you will want to forgo moving your radio ministry into Virginia. "Do you understand?" Richardson did understand, and James discovered that in fact it had not been his last time with Cockrell. Commencement is always a happy yet a sad time. A great milestone reached for all the graduates. Long time friends many will never see again. The new officers had already been installed, but until after commencement they would remain in their old quarters. James and the other officers would continue to exercise their duties during commencement weekend. There would be a cocktail-buffet at the house for DIKa graduates and their families on Friday evening. A reception after the commencement ceremony on Saturday. The baccalaureate service to conclude the festivities Sunday. And various private affairs throughout the weekend. James had succeeded in getting reservations at Sanderson Inn for his family. The Hon. and Mrs. Blaylock would be staying at one of the university guest houses. The Paxtons wouldn't be coming. So James and George made sure that Max was included in the events their families had planned. Mr. Winthrop had brought James to Sanderson for his on-campus visit, when he was still in high school. However, this would be the first visit for his wife and daughter. Kimberly had been given the opportunity to stay home with friends, but knowing that she could see George, she had opted to come. Besides, she had said she might want to go to Sanderson herself. The weekend was a delight. The weather was sunny and warm with an easterly breeze off the Atlantic. There were any number of beachside cottages in the area available for rent, and many of the graduates' families were residing there; and as was the custom, many had receptions for their graduate's friends and their families. The Winthrops and the Blaylocks had a very full schedule. James presided at the DIKa buffet, and introduced the newly installed officers. DIKa had the reputation of having the best food of any of the Sanderson dining rooms, and the cooks didn't disappoint. Along with shaved Smithfield Ham on tea biscuits, the guests feasted on crab-stuffed mushrooms, a Roquefort Cheese Loaf made with heavy cream and grated onion, Shrimp Remoulade, and a Caviar Pate, that is a loaf of cream cheese whipped with boiled eggs, onion, and white wine, spread with a wonderful black caviar and served with crostini. For those not enamored of Tennessee Sour Mash, there was every spirituous liquid one could think of. And non-alcoholic beverages for those who didn't imbibe. The Sanderson Concert Band and the Collegiate Chorale provided the music at the commencement ceremony. It was held on a broad meadow between Castleton Library and the Atlantic. A brilliant fanfare, written for the occasion by a Sanderson graduate who had gone on to become a famous late-Nineteenth Century composer, shattered the calm; and as the academic procession moved into the crowded meadow, the band accompanied the choir in "O God, our help in ages past, our hope in years to come." First came the candidates for advanced degrees, followed by those to receive Bachelors of Science and Bachelors of Arts certificates. James had not told his parents that he was to be the valedictorian, so they were really surprised when it was he who entered last and was seated in the first seat beneath the dais. A second fanfare sounded, and the band played "The Entrance of the Guests" from Wagner's Tannhauser, as the faculty, followed by the deans, the recipients of honorary degrees, and the president of the university entered. The ceremony began with a ritual exchange of questions and answers between the provost and the president, in which the provost in Latin asks for permission to proceed and the president responds in Latin, "Let it be so." Then the salutatorian, also speaking in Latin, gave his address, following the custom that it be given in a very humorous vein. The valedictory address was traditionally more sober, but James chose to make it lighter in tone, with such lines as "Those who came here to play golf didn't realize that the sand traps would be an actual beach and the water hazards the ocean itself." After James spoke, the chorale sang an anthem by Louis Bourgeois, and the degrees were presented. The ceremony was at an end. The university's reception after the commencement was not nearly so grand as the DIKa do the night before, but it was festive enough, as many friends said "farewell" for the last time. Saturday night the Winthrops and Blaylocks jointly hosted a dinner for James and George and a few of their best friends and their families at the Clapboard Inn. Jessica and her family were included. The only sour note in the whole weekend came when Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Blaylock arrived in identical designer outfits, down to their turquoise high heels. Much earlier in the year, James had arranged to drive Max back to Dallas, and had discovered that once Max's playing days over alumni financial support was no longer forthcoming. So, it was decided that Max would remain in Dallas long enough for them to recover from the drive, then James would take him on to Chickasha. James' dad had decided that the family would fly east one way and go back home with James. So the Camaro was a bit crowded on the trip west, but everyone survived. Mr. Winthrop had booked three adjacent rooms at the Leow's Vanderbilt Hotel in Nashville, three or four steps up from where the boys usually stayed on their treks to Dallas. The group arrived just before the dining room closed, and after dinner all were ready for bed. As James and Max were about to enter their room, James' dad whispered to him, "Remember, we're right next door. You and Max don't make too much noise, o.k.?" "Dad?" "Oh, I've known you were gay...probably knew it before you did. Would've liked to have had Winthrop grandchildren, but...well, as you kids say, `we're cool with it.'" THE END Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. A REQUEST AND A PLEA Thank you for reading Delta Iota Kappa. Since you've read this far, I guess you at least wanted to know how the story came out. As the author, I'd really appreciate your input. Several of you have sent me emails, which I thank you for. Please send again, now that the story is ended. I am immune to hostile comments, so say what you mean and mean what you say. I promise to respond to each email. Contact me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. (This is the correct address. I've become aware that the address omitted the final "n" in "mann" in some chapters). First, I'd like to know if you enjoyed the story. Did it fulfill your expectations? Would you recommend it to a friend? Second, I'd like to know if you found it believable. A lot of "porn" doesn't really connect. In Chapter 1 a kid has to ask mom if he can go out. In Chapter 2 it seems he can do whatever he wants. I believe a story needs to hang together from beginning to end. I try to do that in all the stuff I write. So please tell me, did I succeed? Third, and maybe most importantly, my stories have about as many penetrations per chapter as anybody else's. But I am not as explicit as most. I believe that readers also have imaginations. I find when I'm reading a lot of extended descriptions of intercourse, that I jump the next paragraph where the story is advanced. From experience I know that the one finger, two finger, three finger procedure isn't generally necessary. Please let me know if you'd like more explicit explanations of how it's done. And please be honest. I did have a response from someone on another story complaining that I didn't go step by step. A few more have commended my approach. I await your response. Thank you. If you did enjoy DIK, check out some of my other stuff: A complete list is available in the Prolific Authors section of the archive.