Date: Sun, 27 May 2007 17:55:38 -0700 (PDT) From: Dennis Banneker Subject: Keeping My Son Excited - Chapter 1 _______________________________ Keeping My Son Excited by StoriesNew (Dennis Banneker) StoriesNew@yahoo.com May 24, 2007 _______________________________ Andrew Hadderly, 30 Dylan Hadderly, 14 Peter Adams, 19 (mentioned) Shawn Adams, 16 (mentioned) Jason Baker, 14 (mentioned) Michael Roberts, 14, (mentioned) _______________________________ It was early June. Things were different this year. For one thing, I was hot for my son! For another, I'd finally admitted it to myself and hoped to find a way to make something happen between us. I got myself a hardon every time I thought about him, or what we might get into. Dylan was tall--and hot for a 14-year-old! Another first--I had a successful first year as the owner of a small business and finally had enough cash to take a real vacation for a change. I wanted to go to an upscale seaside resort--somewhere far from the usual routine. I was three years a widower and was no longer grieving over my wife's death and drowning myself in the past. I was on my way to being wealthy, and I worked out. So at the age of 30, I had a great body and looked 25-- and could still attract a mate, especially now that I had some money to work with. I had a pile of brochures to look at--and a pile of cash in the bank. 'Life is good,' I thought--rightly so. I loved my beautiful son--14 years old, healthy, good-looking, and nearly a model child. He even got good grades. The only complaint I has was Dylan's reluctance to help clean the house and do chores. Other than that, he was obedient. But he was only 14. What would happen when he got older--when he reached the age of 16, 17--and wanted the car to go places? How obedient would he be then? Those worries faded as my good mood took over. I was excited about my upcoming vacation and looked forward to calling my travel agent once I decided where I was going. I could hardly wait for Dylan to get home from school so we could talk. I love my son very much and looked forward to summer when he would spend more time at home. It was June, and the weather would be perfect when school closed for the summer. Dylan loved staying with his grandmother, and he would have lots to do there while I took my trip. Recently I had found myself attracted to Dylan, and secretly anticipated some discreet sex play with him after I returned from my vacation. I had seen a few others that interested me--teens of various ages--but none had the pull nor the looks that Dylan had. Besides, I would not take the chance of catching something from a stranger and endangering Dylan. "Dad!" my son shouted as he burst through the front door. "Hi Dylan. You look happy." "Yeah! I was the only one to get a final score of 97 in math! I got an A. Isn't that great?" He was a good student. "Yes, I'm proud of you," I said, genuinely excited for Dylan and hugging him warmly. "What's all that stuff?" he said, looking at the travel brochures spread over my lap and across half the living room. "Travel brochures. I'm planning a vacation--a real one this time," I said with a smile. "Where?" "I was thinking either the Mediterranean or a southern seaside resort in the U.S., but I'm not sure yet." "Sounds good. I'll be right back," Dylan said, heading for the bathroom. "Don't be too long. I made early reservations at your favorite restaurant." "Oh--okay, dad," my son said, looking disappointed. I knew that he usually hung up his clothes in the bathroom and masturbated there as soon as he came home from school. My son's disappointment stemmed from the restaurant plans, which would make it necessary for him to postpone his sexual pleasure until after dinner. I thought since Dylan would not be jerking off as usual, he would go to his room to hang up his clothes. I was wrong. He left them in the bathroom and came out in his underwear. "Come to the living room, Dyl." "Okay," he said, walking quickly in my direction-- practically running. "You don't have to rush, son." 'He fills out his underwear well for a 14-year-old,' I thought. The pouch of his briefs told me his penis was probably half hard. Dylan has striking good looks. He's 5 feet 9 inches tall and 135 pounds (he got the height and slenderness from me), straw-colored blond hair, big intense blue eyes, and a rather angelic face--not to mention perfectly shaped arms and legs, a fine chest and the beginnings of a four-pack in his abdominal muscles. He would be 15 in a few months. Besides being nicely built, Dylan is 'cute' as they say. Almost too good-looking, if there is such a thing. There's a sexiness about him that goes beyond a cute face, sexy smile, or bulge in his pants. He had an invisible magnetic charm. I suddenly felt very protective--waking up to the fact that there were all sorts of people out there who wanted to jump Dylan's bones, and maybe some who might kidnap him. My boy fascinated me in many ways. My main interest recently was to learn about his sex life. At this stage, that meant finding out his masturbation habits--since I was sure he hasn't yet had sex with anyone. I remembered one recent Saturday when I secretly followed his every move around the house--like a stalker-- and counted five times that he masturbated. I was never so aroused, and masturbated twice before I could fall asleep. He was in his room with the lights on when I went to bed, so he may have pleasured himself a sixth or seventh time before sleeping. There is something very arousing about hearing my boy's moans and gasps as he pleasures himself--and the sensual blush on his face when he comes out of his room right after he does it. I suppose the only thing more arousing would be to see him in the act. "Can I stay like this and put my clothes on later?" he said in his impressively white tee shirt and briefs. How could I say no?! "I don't see why not." Dylan wasn't shy--he was daring, bordering on immodest for a 14-year-old. "Cool," he said, sitting in the chair next to the couch, where we were at right angles to each other. Dylan crouched rather than sat in the chair. I welcomed the chance to ogle him in a semi-naked state but wondered what was up. "So, you had a good day at school?" "Yep. I always have good days, dad. You gotta think positive." "I think I could take lessons from you in that department, son." "There's another department you need lessons in, dad." "What's that?" "Sex," he said with a coy smile. "Sex?" I glanced at his crotch. My son had made me blush. Had he read my mind? "Yeah dad. You never go out--you don't date. You're gonna explode one of these days. You gotta go where you can meet people." "Oh--I masturbate," I said casually, awed but disturbed that my son was advising me on my sex life. "You do?" he said, surprised, blushing in return. "Sure I do. All guys do. I know you do it, Dylan--or you wouldn't be normal." I was glad he didn't know of my sexual attraction to him. "Daaaad!" he said in that tone all boys seem to use when they're embarrassed or unsure about something. "It's a little late for the birds and bees talk." I noticed that Dylan's hand found temporary lodging in his briefs. "Yes. I gave you that talk when you were ten years old. Do you remember it?" "Not a whole lot, really," he said, shocking me. "Dylan, we talked all day about sex!" "Sorry dad. I think I--" "I hope you remember to use lubrication when you masturbate. Do you?" "Dad--this is embarrassing." Of course it was. I was doing my best to embarrass him. Just a little fun. It was something I never did with Dylan until now. I was feeling good and thought it couldn't hurt. "And for the best results, you should keep stopping and let it build up before you come. Do you remember that?" "No, but I DO it that way," he said with a grin, scratching himself. "I put lots of lube on it and stroke it real slow. Maybe you hear it squishing--it's pretty loud." Dylan was on to me--giving me a taste of my own medicine. "No--can't say that I've heard that." Like hell I didn't! The most intense erections I ever had were from hearing that sound. I was playing it cool-- trying to keep my fatherly image intact. "Anyway, I let it build up until I can feel my balls get really tight." Yes, he was piling it on thick. No 14-year-old boy would talk to his father like this under normal circumstances. Then again, Dylan *was* different. I could tell he was having a good time saying all this, 'making' me squirm. My squirming was an act. "Oh." "And I stop. That's when I can feel my cum making pressure. It feels good. I keep doing that and really blow a good load." "That's um, very interesting, Dylan." "Makes me horny talking about it," my boy said. "Y-yes, I can tell," I said, eyeing his subtle manipulation of his penis--apparently erect. Obviously he had spotted my hardon. "Yeah, you got boned," Dylan said, staring at my lap. This was *my* son? Talking about his father's cock? Honestly, I was never so pleasantly shocked. "Well, I am a little excited--embarrassed," I said, staring at my son's bulging briefs. "Because of my boner?" he said with a boyish, silly grin, arousing me--more so when he touched the bulge. "I knew you were a healthy boy, Dylan, but--that looks very . . . adult-sized." I guessed him to be six or seven inches. And what kind of father was I--talking about my son's penis? I didn't want the full answer to that. I told myself I'm a good dad and happen to lust after my son. For sure, I wouldn't force him. I just hoped we could make a willing connection. I had no idea how but the current situation gave me hope. I cringed when he slouched down in the chair, making the outline of his erection show plainly. I was seeing this for the first time. Was he *trying* to arouse me? It looked that way. My face had to be dark with blush, and I was embarrassed--this time for real. I felt like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But this was more serious. I was caught with my eyes between Dylan's legs. I nearly died when my son stood up, his hard penis showing very clearly--a large protrusion in his sexy briefs. I choked when he rubbed it. Was this my boy's response to my staring? Or was he innocent of that? "It's over six inches, dad. Don't you think that's good?" "Yes," I said, thinking of a way to truly embarrass him--to make him stop all this. "I'm not sure you can withstand the wait. You usually do it when you get home from school. You might have an accident in the restaurant. You'd better jerk off now." I know I should have told Dylan it's not right for him to display himself like that. My lust was too great. And I stared at his bulging underpants again. "Yeah, dad," he said, blushing, but boldly sliding his briefs down. "You wanna see it anyway." Son or no son--a 14-year-old was telling me he knew I wanted to see his dick! My heart pounded. I could hardly breathe, staring at his exposed erect penis, aroused and shocked at the same time. He was well beyond the little-boy stage, and his dick was not thin. I got a good look before his hand took possession of his young cock. My son was masturbating not three feet from me. "Okay," I said firmly. "Stop. Enough. You've had your fun. Now put it away." That was such a bad lie. I was ashamed. But I feared Dylan's finding me out. Eventually he would have to know about me, if I were going to play with him that way. For now, I didn't have the balls to tell him the truth. "Aw, he was just starting to have fun," Dylan said, staring down at his penis and petting it. He grinned and tucked it back in his briefs. Then my boy giggled--a thing I loved. The look and sound of him was very endearing. Giggling turned to laughter, and to big guffaws. "Sorry, dad," Dylan said with a huge grin, apologizing for his behavior. "But it was so fun!" "Yes, it was," I said, grinning back amiably, his reaction casting doubts on my hopes. "Well, dad--how did it look?" "Very big and masculine--as you well know." "I'm so horny!" "I'll cancel the reservations. Go do what you need to do, boy." Saying that gave me blue balls. "Oh, yeah!" Dylan scooted off to his room as if we'd been talking about a video game. I was ready to have a heart attack. I would have given anything to have the guts to follow him and ask to watch. It was too risky. I sat back in my easy chair and picked up the newspaper, hoping to calm my nerves. But my son reappeared a few seconds later. "Hey, dad," Dylan said, standing naked with a hardon. He was either tempting the shit out of me or he had no clue. And if he was tempting me, he knew he had me trapped. "Dylan! I thought you were going to jer--" "I will. But I gotta tell you something." "Sure, son. Anything. But--" "I'm gay, dad," Dylan said, his tone obviously designed to shock me. I avoided saying, 'Oh, yes!' With this announcement, I considered taking my son on vacation with me. I had to think out all the consequences. "That's fine with me, son." This was not a lie. I had often thought about Dylan as a straight boy as well as a gay boy--well before I felt any attraction. I long ago decided either way would be all right with me. How could I reject him for what he is? "Huh?" Dylan said, not sounding like my bright boy. "I thought about it a long time ago. It's all right if you're gay." When I saw his erection bounce, it took all my strength to avoid getting up and touching it. "You gotta be kidding," he said, coming next to me. His erection touched my arm. "Just like that, you accept it?" "Yes," I said, holding him lovingly with my hands on his naked hips. "God!" "What would happen if I objected? You might do things with strangers--and put THIS in danger," I said, taking hold of his rigid penis. "Oh, that feels good." "Of course it feels good--almost any touch feels good to boys your age," I said, shocked that my son did not object to my touching his privates. "But dad--" I squeezed his beautiful hardness before letting go. "Besides, being gay is becoming more popular. We'll have to talk--and set up rules. But as long as you don't go telling people about it, and you're happy and play it safe, I'm okay with it." "Safe? You mean condoms and all that stuff?" "Yes--and making sure you have sex in a safe place." "You mean like do it in the locker room and the woods?" "No!" I said, realizing I didn't know what I'd meant by a safe place. "Where, then?" "Here at home." "That's crazy, dad. What am I supposed to do--show up here with a guy and say, 'Hi dad, don't mind us, we're just going to my room to have sex.'?" This Dylan said with his hands in front of his crotch, swaying charmingly from foot to foot. "No. You won't have to say anything. Just go to your room." "Oh, God," Dylan whispered, "you're serious. Why would you make it so easy for me?" "Should I make it difficult?" "Well--no. But why?" "Can't you guess?" "Not really." "Dylan--I'm starting to go gay, too." "No way, dad." "I've been attracted to young men for some time now. It happened gradually since your mother passed away." I wasn't sure about the others, but I knew I was attracted to *him.* "That explains it. The way you looked at Jason last year when we took him to the lake." Jason is Dylan's close friend. "Yes, I like him." "What about ME, dad?" "Yes, you're very attractive, but you're my son and I-- well, I just think--" Damn! I blew it. "Yeah, I know. But it might be fun." I stood and hugged him, getting a poke in the groin and smears of my son's sexual juices on my pants. "Dylan--this will only work if you share your sexual thoughts and activities with me. That way, I can guide you, and we can prepare for your having actual sex." "Dad--I'll . . . I'll tell you," he said, blushing cutely. "I have no one else to talk to about this." Here, Dylan was sincere--almost desperate. I expected resistance and was puzzled. "Tell me now. Sit here," I said, pointing to the footstool. I slid my handkerchief under his genitals. "Oh, yeah. I get a lot of precum most times." "So what can you tell me, Dylan?" "There's this kid in most of my classes, Michael Roberts," my son said excitedly. "He's really cute, and he has a boner most of the time. I can see him touching it under the desk--and when he stands up. It drives me crazy," he said, touching himself. "And what do you do?" "Well . . . I . . . go jerk off in the boys room." "Sounds wise. What about Jason?" "He's hot, too. But he's not in any of my classes. We jerked each other off a few times in my room." "Good." "Good?" "Yes. Boys do things like that and it's better that you do it in your room than out in the bushes somewhere." "Oh. Yeah." "What else have you done? Any sex?" "No real sex. I jerk off thinking about Michael a lot. Jason, too, sometimes." "Anyone else?" "You're not pissed about this?" "No. I'm very interested in your life, Dylan. Are there others at school you're attracted to?" "Yeah, some older boys that I see in the halls, but I don't know most of the them. One of them is Shawn Adams-- he's 16--and his brother Peter, he's 19 and repeating his senior year." "No girls?" I said, surprised at the age range he liked. "No." Dylan was unconsciously stroking his cock with two fingers--precum flowing freely as he gazed at my crotch. "You'd better go do . . . what you need to do." "Yeah dad, we can talk later." Dylan arose and walked to his room--precum dripping on the carpet. I had to smile. Inwardly, I was regretting that I didn't just drop to my knees and pleasure him right there on the living room floor. Another part of me was relieved that he was no longer visible. It aroused me to know that he was going to his room to masturbate. I went to my bedroom to relieve my tensions. As I passed Dylan's room, I heard the squish of his lubricated hand and his moans of pleasure. This hastened my own pleasure. New thoughts distracted me. How would Dylan handle his sexual encounters? Did I give him too much freedom? I could always set down special rules, but would he obey? Was I giving my horny, uncontrolled 14-year-old boy free license to give in to every whim? To prevent a tragedy, I had to become a disciplinarian. I especially dreaded another summer of doing all the housekeeping--a situation caused by my unwillingness to insist that Dylan do his share. I just kept quiet and let it go. That was my way of keeping the peace--avoiding the subject--and it was wrong. But it was more pleasant to do it myself and not stir up trouble. Even worse was the yard work. Dylan would promise to mow the lawn, but aside from a few exceptions, never actually did it. And I never said a word. Deep down, I knew that he needed to be made to toe the line--not solely for *my* convenience, but for his own character formation. Even though I didn't complain, I'm sure Dylan knew what he was getting away with. I had to start acting like a real father. I needed a way to keep my son in line--to be made to keep his promises to me, to be sensible about his sexual activity, and to obey when I asked him to do chores. Could a 14-year-old be sensible on his own? Probably not--not totally. I was at a loss for ideas on how to re-train him. I went on line and searched under combinations of 'boy,' 'training,' 'obedience,' and 'discipline.' I was amazed to discover chastity belts for sale. I thought they were a thing of the ancient past. It was promoted on several web sites as an excellent training tool for boys. I had my doubts but read thoroughly and was convinced. I ordered three of the chastity devices, the type designed to accommodate the full erection without squeezing it or causing any other discomfort. This was accomplished with an oversized rigid tube. I had them shipped via overnight service. I was *not* interested in the type of chastity belt that caused discomfort on its own. Causing the boy needless suffering was not my goal. It was enough that my son would experience the consequences of delayed orgasm. 'I'll have a surprise for him tomorrow--when he comes home from his last day of school,' I said to myself. I planned to use the chastity things as a way of motivating Dylan to do his chores and be more cooperative around the house. According to the site, denying a boy his orgasm for a few days (weeks in severe cases) would result in him asking for it--eventually begging for sexual relief--and willing to do almost anything to get it. This was not news, exactly, but it did remind me what it was like to be 14 and rush to my room--desperate to jerk off and relieve that indefinable but overpowering need. The site relieved my fears concerning blue balls. I discovered some pertinent facts. Blue balls was not a harmful thing in the absence of undue swelling. Not all boys get the condition. The younger the boy, the less likely he would get blue balls. The chastity belt would be the ultimate control over a boy, especially a horny one like Dylan. Of course, there were vent holes and pee holes in the tube of the device--so he wouldn't be dependent on me for his every move. He would be able to pee and wash his dick easily. Making Dylan wear the belt was also a way of keeping him 'down on the farm,' as they say. Because of the large penis-tube, the chastity thing bulged unnaturally and was embarrassing. What boy would go walking around town looking like he had half the kitchen sink in his pants? Reading from various other web sites, I confirmed the claim of the relative harmlessness of blue balls, and that boys *do* tend to beg a great deal after a few days in the device. With Dylan and his frequent need to masturbate, I imagined after a day or less, he would be pleading. I had to laugh at one medical site that said that younger boys (12 to 14) were more tolerant of delayed sexual climax. They didn't know Dylan. I became erect as I pictured his penis hard and trapped in the device for days at a time--his erection thicker with need as time passed. At least the thing had ample room-- enough to hold a much larger, adult-sized organ. Especially with boys younger than 19 or so, the site said, it would be necessary to be flexible--that I should be willing sometimes to give my son his release sooner than I'd planned. This sent me on a new information quest. It went on to explain that if I were too eager to train him and became inflexible or brutish, this would cause the boy to turn against me--and would make him *less* obedient and cooperative, not more. I didn't want to hurt Dylan or push him too far. But the site warned not to just give in to all of the boy's whims. Since Dylan would be begging for release, he would be offering to do almost anything to get it. The site recommended that I *not* merely give him a chore and then allow him an early release (orgasm) after he completed the task. That was okay only if the day of his release was at hand. Early release needed special handling and could not be treated lightly. They recommended I purchase a plastic paddle and use it on Dylan--not as a punishment or anything negative, but to use those paddle whacks exclusively as the price he would need to pay for early sexual release. That paddle was not to be used for any other reason. I had my doubts, but what the site was saying made sense. I decided to be bold. I ordered two paddles, wincing as I did so. I was not interested in making my son scream in pain with the paddle or by any other means. I was assured that I could give a good dose of pain with the plastic paddle-- just enough to make it seem like a payment--without having lasting or damaging effects. In other words, done with the correct level of restraint, the boy would have no trouble sitting down after a short period. I was sure that Dylan's embarrassment of being paddled naked would be pain enough. But, paddle aside, knowing his pretty cock would be hard and pounding in that tube, getting more desperate by the hour--then taking the thing off him and touching his desperate erection--was a way of playing with Dylan sexually; to be involved with him and his alluring penis-- in a way that did not resemble sexual play. Dylan likely would not see anything 'playful' about having to wait for his orgasms or take whacks to his butt for early release. I could hide behind that and not reveal my sexual motives. Could I restrict myself to mere touching? I decided that Dylan had to be with me on vacation. His easy arousal and desires to have sex with others would need careful watching that his grandmother could not provide. I held off calling the travel agent. After a dinner of hamburgers, green beans, and potatoes, Dylan volunteered to talk more on the subject of sex--surprising me again. "Dylan--I'm . . . flattered that you want to tell me about this. And proud of you." "Wait, dad--I'll be right back." When Dylan returned, he was shirtless and wore a pair of thin summer shorts--without underwear--and his penis was half hard, bulging the fabric clearly. I had a feeling this was supposed to tell me something--deciding it would be wise to ask him about it. "Nice shorts, son. But why no underwear?" Dylan blushed deeply and looked at the floor. This was a deep shock to me. What happened to his boldness? His embarrassment was a clue, I supposed. "I'm an . . . I can't think of the word. I like to show off." "An exhibitionist," I said calmly. "Yeah but . . . I can't do it anywhere but here." "That sounds wise. Are you doing it for me or for yourself?" Another blush. "Both, I think." "Are you happy doing that, Dylan? How do you feel about it?" "A little scared. Makes me horny, though." I pictured my son standing naked at the hotel window, waving at all the cute boys. "I see." My calm exterior was a deceit. "I did it at school a couple of times," he said nervously. I started to say something, but Dylan beat me to it. "I know that was way risky. I won't do it again." "All right. Relax. What did you do?" "Boned myself up so Michael would see when we walked out of class." "That doesn't sound so bad. Did it work?" "No," Dylan said, blushing. "He didn't look." This time, when Dylan blushed, he looked helpless. Obviously the boy was lusting fiercely for Michael. "It's okay, Dylan," I said, hugging him, pulling him into my lap. "*I'M* looking." "Yeah," he said with a sheepish grin, "well--I figured that. It was hard for me to go through with it and . . . come out here like this." He touched his growing bulge. "Oh. I'm glad you said that. I thought it was no big deal for you." "Sometimes it's hard more than half the school day," he said very quietly--a quick change of subject, I thought. "Do you think that happens to you more than other boys?" "Yeah. I just jerked off a couple hours ago, and I'm real horny again," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Dylan, maybe you're worrying too much about this," I said reassuringly, giving his chest a good squeeze. "Really?" "Yes. I remember lots of boners that first year of high school." "But--" "And masturbating at home." "A lot?" "Yes." "As much as me?" "Maybe not, but every boy has his own unique sex drive. Some boys might do it ten times a day. I know some only do it a few times a week." "No way! A few times a week? I could never do that!" Little did he know. Some of my message got through to Dylan. He seemed more relaxed. "You had to be horny a lot--you had me when you were sixteen, right?" "Yes. I'm a thirty-year-old wonder," I said, trying to take the focus off my teen years. "Yeah--you had to do it a lot," Dylan said sheepishly. His grin was bewitching. "So go masturbate and enjoy it," I said. Dylan got the strangest grin. "Should I leave my door open, dad?" "What? Oh, the exhibitionist thing." "Yeah." Full silly grin now. "Only if you want me to hear. Maybe see." I heard and saw all right! Damn near choked as I saw Dylan's sizable cock with his hand speeding up and down on it as the boy moaned and made captivating noises. When I saw my son's first spurt shooting up like a fountain, I ran to my bedroom and did the same. Afterward, I went to my travel agency's web site and made a double booking--one to a family-style resort, the other to a naturalist villa, both near Key West. I made sure to get a late departure, so the chastity belts would arrive before we left. I emailed the principal to excuse Dylan from the last day of school. We were leaving tomorrow! We needed time to plan and pack. I would take Dylan to the naturalist place first. If he didn't like it there, we could switch to the resort--a brief cab ride away. Everything was a blur until I was seated in the plane, cruising high in the air. It got cold on the aircraft, so I put a blanket over my lap and Dylan's. I got very brave with my son, placing a hand under the blanket, halfway up his thigh, rubbing sensually. This gave Dylan a very sexy grin. That was the encouragement I needed. I slid my hand up his leg to his penis. I was not surprised but thrilled to find the boy hard. I grabbed the hot bulged fabric and squeezed. "Dad, what are you doing?" Dylan said, leaning over and whispering. His warm breath in my ear caused my cock to jump. "Making you horny." "Dad--you'll make me have a boner when we land." "Carry this magazine and cover it up." "People will know." "Nonsense. They'll all be too busy with their luggage." "Daaaaad." "Besides, with a magazine you can use it as a flap." "Huh?" "Flip it away when you see a cute boy you like." "Oh. That's hot." 'What did I start?' I was thinking as I slid two fingers inside the leg of his shorts and found his naked hard flesh. Dylan's body stiffened. He sucked air through clenched teeth. His hot hardness and trembling legs aroused me. "Oh, dad!" --StoriesNew (Dennis Banneker) StoriesNew@yahoo.com Did you like? Let me know. :-) (I have ideas for a chapter 2.) Hope I made you happy. If you tell me what you liked, you'll make me very happy. Don't be shy. I'm just a guy like you. (No website, no commercial connections, just little ol' me. All email is private and I delete them in a timely manner.) If you want me to reply, please let me know. I hope you needed to wipe up something after reading. StoriesNew@yahoo.com (Dennis) Dennis Banneker is a 26 year-old guy who graduated with a degree in English and hopes to try writing full time. Even one email will be encouraging. StoriesNew@yahoo.com