Date: Sun, 28 Oct 2012 17:04:24 +0000
From: Rob Armstrong <robarmstrong26@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Spike's Piercing Parlour, Part Nine: The Jock Master Plan

	 SPIKE'S PIERCING PARLOUR, PART NINE: THE JOCK MASTER PLAN

   THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF INCEST BETWEEN A FATHER AND HIS 19 YR OLD
SON, WATERSPORTS AND DOMINATION.  THESE CHARACTERS EXIST IN AN AIDS FREE,
CONSEQUENCE FREE, FANTASY PARALLEL UNIVERSE AND ARE NOT TO BE EMULATED.

   PLEASE SUPPORT NIFTY WITH YOUR DONATIONS AND KEEP THIS INCREDIBLE
RESOURCE GOING.


	First day back at school was always going to be interesting. The
smell of the school halls, the cafeteria - it was like reality came
crashing back in and Clay's summer of mansex was only a wet dream.

	Except, of course, he had the pierced nipples and fist-trained
asshole to prove it wasn't.

	Clay's new punk style caused quite a sensation when he walked in
the first day back.  One of the first people he came across was that
tattooed Goth skank who had once mentioned his dad looked hot. She was
standing with a pair of her black eyelinered freak friends.

	'Larsen, is that you?' she uttered in her signature bored monotone
- but one eyebrow was raised.  'My my, you look all growed up - nearly as
good as that daddy of yours.'

	'Oh, hey Avril,' Clay greeted her absent-mindedly, and planted a
casual kiss on her cheek, 'Where are the locker allocations, d'ya know?'

	Avril was too stunned to speak.  She could only point.

	'Thanks,' he said, flashing a smile that would melt kryptonite and
turned to go, 'Catch you later!'

	'Dude,' said one of Avril's friends, 'Clay Larsen knows your name!
And he frickin' KISSED you!'

	Avril shook her head.  'Dude, when did the pod people drop by and
replace Clay Larsen with an actual human being?'

	There had been an easy-going camaraderie in that thoughtless peck
on the cheek, she thought to herself. And look at him go!  He still
strutted proudly, but where was the jock arrogance?

	Something profound had happened to Larsen over the summer.



	Clay located his locker number on the list and found himself
standing next to Lenny Wiseman, the nellie little drama club fag.

	Lenny jumped out of his skin to see Clay towering over him.

	'Hey, Len,' said Clay amiably, 'looks like we're neighbours.'

	'Oh, great,' said Lenny sourly, 'What a start to the new semester.
I get a locker next to Jockzilla.'

	Clay looked at him.  And burst out laughing.

	'Jockzilla?  That's priceless, Lenny, you crack me up, man.'

	Lenny frowned.  This was not the reaction he had come to expect
from Clay Larsen.  Experimentally he added, 'And if you or any of your
macho-bullshit pack-dogs are planning on cramming me into it, you can think
again.'

	Clay looked down at Lenny as if seeing him properly for the first
time.  The little guy regarded him fiercely, arms folded - David staring
down Goliath.  Right now he was neither nellie nor faggy.  He was brave,
determined to stand up for himself and what he believed in.

	Clay thought now of the shit he and his buddies had given the guy
last year for having the courage to come out as gay...

	...And felt shame.

	Clay nodded quietly.  'I get it, dude.'

	Lenny's eyes may have widened a little but he otherwise betrayed no
sign of his surprise.  He merely nodded curtly, as if to say that was all
settled, and marched off down the hallway.

	Clay watched him with new eyes.  He was short, slender, and a
little light on his feet, but he was actually really handsome. And that was
one HELL of a fine ass.

	And Clay realised he owed him.

	Big time.



	The unexpected emotion that dominated Clay's first day back was
dismay.  The jocks clapped him on the back and complimented him on his new
style.  The popular girls fluttered their eyelashes as always and, Dad was
right, the babes still got his juices flowing.  It was great to be back and
see everybody.

	But the scales had fallen from his eyes.  He saw for the first time
how many kids practically dived for cover as he went by.  The nerds.  The
skanks.  The freaks.  All the uncool kids who weren't perfect physical
specimens.

	The light he saw in some eyes was fear.  In many, desire.  Poor old
Oreo Joe in chem lab, the fat kid with the heavy glasses and the bush of
curly brown hair - Clay caught the guy regarding him with a mixture of
both.  How long had he worshiped Clay from afar and lived with the terror
of it?

	Jeez.  Clay had never realised what a jungle high school could be
for some kids - probably because he had always been at the top of the food
chain.



	Football practice later that day took Clay's mind off everything
for a while.  Man, first practice session back was always a bitch.  It
didn't make things any easier that Coach Symansky had sicced on the team
one of the new junior coaches.

	Coach Farello was only around thirty, a trim but muscular specimen
with dark Italian hair that would curl and become unruly if ever allowed to
stray from the tight cut he had it tamed into.

	Farello was a serious, earnest kinda guy with a lot to prove, so he
really stuck it to the team.  Everyone was really hurting by the time they
hit the showers but Moose Bruckner, Clay's best bud on the team, was
pleased.

	'Man, we keep this up we're gonna slaughter the Woodchucks this
season.'

	The team from Woodmont High School in New Jersey was their biggest
rival in the league.

	Moose rose and started to strip for the showers.  Clay had been
looking forward to this.  The guy was enormous, a mountain of muscle who
towered even over Clay.  The shoulder pads came off and the Tee-shirt
lifted, revealing a torso a hairy ape would be proud of.  Even at nineteen,
the Moose was more of a monkey.  He pulled the Tee back carefully over his
hair.  His hair was his pride and joy - a luxuriant, thick brown lion's
mane that swept back from a widow's peak and reached almost to his
shoulders.

	Down came the skintight pants, revealing a meaty butt framed by the
straps of his crisp white jock.  The schlong that flopped out was full, fat
and lengthy, even in repose.  Clay had to restrain himself from licking his
chops like a hungry labrador.

	It was crowded in the showers, billows of steam causing such a fog
that you could barely see beyond the guy either side of you.  Who knew what
activity could be going on under such cover?  With his newfound awareness
Clay was able to pick out which guys were sneaking looks at the others and
hiding a hardon, who was oblivious, who was uninterested and who was
burning up inside with the desire to ravish every boy on the squad.

	His own feelings and desires he kept strictly in check, his
father's words of wisdom still ringing in his ears.

	'Now remember, son, it's gonna be difficult fuh ya, 'specially in
the lockeroom and in the showers with all that hot jock flesh on display.
This summer ya seen it all, done it all - but ya gotta cram that genie back
inta the bottle around the guys.  They don't know what you know.  But
THAT'S ya advantage.  It's like goin' under cover...'

	Because concealment was all part of the plan. What Dad and Spike
had taken to calling 'Clay's Master Plan'.

	Clay had mentioned his idea to the two of them down in the dungeons
that night Coach Rogers had been parading the Collins family as his
personal pets.  Of course, at the time nothing could be done about it till
high school kicked back in again.

	After the showers Moose noticed Clay's piercings for the first
time.  Again on Dad's advice, Clay had played them down first day back,
wearing only a fine barbell through each tit.  But in such close quarters
even they were pretty unmissable.

	'What the fuck, man?' Moose demanded.

	But Clay had been ready for precisely this reaction and he brazened
it out.  He grinned at Moose and flicked a tit.

	'Nips, man.  Who knew? Marla's mom first put me onto it.'

	Lying with the truth, Clay distracted Moose as planned.  Moose
grinned back at him.  'Yeah, Marla's mom - you nasty bastard, Larsen,
bangin' the chick AND her mom.'

	Clay chuckled.  'Some of those older broads are pretty kinky, bro.'

	Moose nodded, rapt.  Out of the corner of his eye, Clay noticed his
friend's dick beginning to stir.

	Moose leaned in conspiratorially.  'So tell me, dude,' he
whispered, 'you ever do mom and daughter together?'

	Clay leaned in also.  'Shit man... you really wanna know?'

	Moose's eyes grew huge.  'No!  You're shittin' me!'

	His schlong perked up and got semi-hard.  Clay glanced about and
continued.  'You want me to tell you I get them both naked on Marla's bed
together...?'

	'No. Fuck. Ing. Way!'  Moose grabbed his dick and started pumping
it openly - they were all guys here, after all.

	'... how I get Marla nibbling one of my tits and her mom on the
other...?'

	'Fuuuuuck....'

	Moose's hand sped up.

	'... using their teeth... pulling on my steel...?'

	Clay paused.

	'Well, I can't tell you any of that, bro.  Those two bitches don't
even know about each other!'

	Moose froze, mid jerk, and studied Clay's expression.

	'You bastard!' he announced finally, realising he had been played.
'You fucking fuck-wad!'

	Clay hooted with laughter.  Moose released his dick and slapped
Clay hard in the pec - unwittingly leaving a smear of his own precum on his
buddy's chest.

	Clay flicked his nipples again and started teasing them before
Moose's very eyes.  'I'm telling you, bro, you gotta make friends with
these bad boys. It's a whole other turn-on you never knew.  The more you
punish them, the more they like it...'

	Still turned on by the fake story, Moose frowned in confusion and
stared at Clay's tit-play.  His own nipples were beginning to poke through
his forest of hair and his dick was fully hard and dripping again.

	Moose swallowed hard.  'Yeah... well... you just keep those damn
things away from me, that's all... that's... that's fag shit...'

	Clay laughed again. 'Tell that to Marla's mom, buddy.  You don't
know what you're missing!'

	He relished the discomfort on his friend's face and the fact that
he was so clearly turned on by it all.  Moose turned away and hurried into
his street clothes.  He practically ran out the door, but Clay wasn't
worried.  He'd be back.

	After all - Moose had been checking out the other guys in the
shower more than anybody...

	Clay turned to get dressed, still toying with his nips, only to
find Coach Symansky standing there, watching him - the formidable Head
Coach Symansky, who every player on the squad was secretly scared shitless
of.

	Clay froze.

	Then instinct kicked in.

	He carried on playing with his nipples, more slowly, staring Coach
right in the eye as he twisted and pulled those mini barbells.

	Coach smiled slowly.  Knowingly.

	Grabbed his crotch and shook it lewdly.

	And walked away.

	Clay followed... he knew Coach had a paddle in his office and Clay
had been a very... very... bad boy...




	Over the next few weeks, Clay didn't let the grass grow.  He scoped
out the high school.  He looked into jock records and their family
histories, making allies and sewing seeds as he went, keeping Dad, Spike
and the Doc fully updated on all new information and any developments.

	When Thor received a worried-sounding call from Coach Farello,
saying he needed to have a discreet word with him about his son, he grinned
to himself evilly.

	'Sure, Coach.  Perhaps it might be better if you came here to our
apartment?  I'm a very busy man...'

	Thor then made a call to Spike.  'Spike, buddy?  The boy did it.
Yeah, Farello, one of the junior coaches.  Clay has the guy on the hook.
Schultz has the chair ready?  Good.  When can we get it over here?'

	Earnest young Coach Farello visited a couple of nights later.  Thor
answered the door to him in his robe, fresh from the shower.

	Farello was a little taken aback by his host's state of undress,
but Thor made vague apologies about the stat being on the fritz.  It
certainly was unbearably hot in the apartment and Farello had little choice
but to slip off his outer layers until he wore only undershirt and sweat
pants.

	Thor ushered the coach into the living room and invited him to sit
in a blocky wooden armchair that truly didn't look all that comfortable.

	'Erm... unusual design...' Farello noted.

	Thor shrugged and placed himself on the couch.  'Shaker style, or
something, don't ask me.  Some piece of crap my ex-wife bought.'

	'EX-wife,' Coach Farello picked up, 'So it's just you and Clay
here, Mr Larsen?'  Thor nodded and Farello sighed.  'That may make things a
little easier.  Maybe.  I don't know.'

	'Just what is this all about, Mr Farello?'

	Farello paused awkwardly.  'Oh dear... this is a rather delicate
matter, I'm afraid...'

	'Well in that case, how about a glass of bourbon?'

	Farello held up an abstemious hand.  'Thank you, I don't drink
alcohol.  But perhaps a glass of water?'

	Two minutes later, both men armed with a drink, Farello started
again.  'Mr Larsen - are you aware of anybody bullying your son?  Or maybe
taking advantage of him in some way?'

	Thor snorted into his Jack Daniels.  'He's defensive captain of the
football team, Coach, I don't think anybody's gonna mess with him.'

	'Within the school boundaries, perhaps not.  But could there be any
form of abuse taking place outside, perhaps?  A neighbour or relative?
Male, certainly.'

	Seeing Thor's bewildered expression, Farello realised it was time
to put his cards squarely on the table.  He sweated dark patches through
his clothes and it wasn't just the temperature in the apartment.

	'Mr Larsen, I suspect that somebody is sexually molesting your son.
On quite a regular basis.  I happened to be passing thru the locker rooms
the other day while the team was changing for practice and... well, let's
just say, the signs were there.'

	Again Thor shook his head and he smiled regretfully.  'Sorry,
Coach, ya gonna hafta spell it out for the dumb electrician.'

	Farello sighed and took a large gulp of his water before setting
his glass down on a side table.  He sat back in that weird chair and
explained.

	'Clay was bent over, lacing up his cleats - for some reason he
hadn't pulled on his pants yet - and because his stance was quite wide I
was able to... see... well... the cleft between his buttocks was widened, I
guess...'

	'Oh, okay,' Thor nodded, apparently beginning to understand, 'You
were walking through the lockeroom, Clay was bent over bareass naked and
you saw his hole.'

	Thor put a hand down between his legs, under his robe.

	'Go on, Coach.'

	'Well yes,' continued Farello, somewhat flustered by whatever it
was Thor was doing with that hand, 'I could see your son's
ho... anus... and it looked inflamed.  Red and puffy.  Well, I was taken by
surprise and I stopped there a spell.'

	'Shiiiit,' Thor intoned, his hand beginning to move beneath his
robe, 'Okay, so you wuz standing there, getting a good look at my boy's
hole...'

	It wasn't an accusation, Farello thought.  The man sounded
more... excited.

	'Anyway...' Farello went on, 'As I watched I distinctly saw a
copious amount of... semen... being discharged from his ass... erm,
rectum.'

	'No way!  You stood there an' watched a hot cumload dripping slowly
out of my son's hole?'

	Was the man masturbating under his robe?  Both men were squirming
in their seats now, Farello uncomfortably and the father excitedly.

	Thor turned his head and yelled.  'Clay?  Get ya ass in here!'

	Farello shook his head.  'Oh - no, I thought it best at first if
just you and I disc...'

	But it was too late.  Clay filled the doorway in all his blond,
muscle bound glory, wearing only an appallingly dirty old jock strap, his
furry flesh glossed smooth by a sheen of sweat.

	And - oh Christ - the kid wore a hefty steel ring punched thru each
nipple, connected by a chain.  He looked like a freshly roused male
whore...

	'Oh, hey Coach!'

	Before Farello could return the pleasantry, Thor beckoned his son
over.  'Son, Coach here's worried aboutcha.  Anything wrong at school?'

	'Not a thing, Dad.'

	'No?  Well that's good.  But anyways, just bend ya ass over the
couch a second so we can check it out and make sure.'

	'Oh, okay Dad.'

	As if it were the most natural request in the world, Clay knelt on
the couch beside his father and bent over the backrest, arching his back in
order to throw his ass out for inspection.

	Farello sat there, too stunned to say anything, and watched as the
father ran his hands over his son's asscheeks and began to fondle them.

	'Yeah... good muscle mass here, son... all those night time runs
thru Central Park been payin' off!'

	Now he was brazenly groping the boy right in front of the coach,
squeezing and massaging those magnificent buns and pursing his lips in
lewd, sexual appreciation...

	...spreading them wide so Farello could get another good look at
Clay's red, puffy starfish...

	'Yeah... hot ass, son - an ass that any dad can be proud of, doncha
think, Coach?'

	And he slapped it, hard.

	Farello could only splutter his outrage, but they ignored him.
Thor ran his thumb hard up and down Clay's crack, jamming it against his
hole.

	'Now what's all this about a load in there before practice, son?'

	Thor jabbed a long finger deep up Clay's cunt and worked it around
good up there... Clay threw back his head and groaned his pleasure...

	'Jeez, Coach, ya right!  Kid's got a load up there right now!'

	He withdrew his finger, which was bore a generous coating of white
slime.  He immediately popped it into his mouth and swilled it around in
there like a wine expert.

	'Nope,' he announced finally after swallowing, 'it ain't one of
mine...  Tasty though... I ain't fucked you today, boy, whose fuckin' load
does this belong to...?'

	And he thrust two fingers into his son's hole this time, working
them round and stetching him.

	'Unghhh... wasn't my fault, Dad, I... unghh... was taking my run
thru the park tonight and... ooooof... these two guys tried to mug
me... unghhh, yeah Dad, finger my hole... and cos I didn't have any money,
they decided to rape my jock ass instead...'

	'Hot,' grunted Thor apreciatively, 'They double dick ya?  Yeah?
Ohhhhh sweeet.... Bring me with ya next time, maybe we can both take a load
offa them and then pay 'em back with a nice fistin' they won't never
forget...'

	Farello had long since had enough but his attempts to leave, full
of moral outrage and plans for a report to the authorities, were stymied by
the fact that he was unable to even rise from the chair.

	Mysteriously, while he had been distracted by the filthy display in
front of him, steel bands had slid from the blocky Shaker chair, encircling
his arms, waist and ankles.

	And now the very surface he sat on was starting to vibrate.  Thor
looked over and smiled inwardly.  Doc Schultz's technical prowess was about
to be put to the test.

	Outwardly he continued to make as if nothing in the least were
amiss and licked more cum from his fingers.

	'Hey, Coach, I'm gettin' a third flavor up here, any idea who that
might be?  Anyone on the team, maybe?  Clay, go on over to Coach, give him
a taste.'

	Farello looked up, realising too late that he was being addressed.

	'Huh?  What the Hell is going.... No!  No!  Stop that!  Mmmph!'

	Completely trapped, the coach was unable to prevent Clay Larsen
from shoving his asshole directly in his face.  Clay reached behind the
coach's head and jammed it into his sweaty trench.

	'Mmmmph!'  came Farello's mufffled cries from somewhere in Clay's
ass.  'Nnnnnnf.... mmmmmph...'

	Farello's head thrashed from side to side, trying to escape, but
succeeded only in rubbing is face all over the young jock's leaking
rosebud.  Clay gasped at the delicious sensation of his stubbled chin
grazing his tender flesh...

	He stepped away.  Farello's face was red and smeared all over with
anonymous cum. He sucked in lungfulls of air.  The wooden hatch vibrated
further beneath him and glided suddenly into the sides of the chair.

	Farello now found himself sitting on some sort of undulating, black
rubber cushion.  Machinery moved within, turning the cushion into some sort
of clutching hand.

	Doc Schultz's patented SmartCushion gripped the cloth of the
coach's sweatpants on either side and abrubtly wrenched it apart.  The
cloth was rent apart with an audible rip, exposing the young coach's ass
flesh direct to the rubber.

	Clay yanked the ruined sweat pants away, pausing only to sniff at
the shredded crotch before carelessly tossing them in a corner.

	Thor opened his robe and sat back on the couch naked, masturbating
as he enjoyed the show unfolding before him.

	The SmartCushion groped and massaged Farello's ass, while another
hatch slid away in the blocky backrest behind him.  Spiderlike metal limbs
reached up into the air and around his upper body, ripping away the thin,
sweat-stained T-shirt.

	Farello was now naked in his bonds.  Clay stripped out of his old
jock and began jerking off.  This was similar to the view his father and
Spike must have had when he himself was being deflowered in the barber's
chair.

	Thicker metal limbs reached round Farello's body and latched onto
his nipples.  Rubber tipped tweezers began pulling and twisting the virgin
flesh there.  The coach cried out softly in horror at it all.

	But he didn't really begin to yell until the SmartCushion split
down the middle, pulling his ass cheeks wide, and released another, more
spongy appendage.  It was warm and well-lubed, and stroked his ass crack
like an elongated, licking tongue.

	Clay merely turned round and stuffed the man's face into his ass
again so nobody in the rest of the building could hear him.  He reached
down and started stroking the coach's dick to life.

	It didn't take much effort.

	There were all out screams next into the pillow of Clay's ass.  The
articulated tonue mechanism must have punched its way through the coach's
defence and was now licking up inside, coating his rectum with slimy lube.

	Thor was suddenly there, at the man's side.  He wrenched his head
back out of Clay's hole and fed him poppers.  Then he roughly shoved his
face up his son's trench again.

	'Now lick my boy's hole, bitch,' he growled, 'suck all that gamey
cum outta his hole and lick him clean!'

	'Mmmmnf...' came the muffled protest again - but this time Clay
felt the accustomed wetness of a probing tongue.

	'Mmmmnf... whimper... gag... guuuulp!'

	The tongue got bolder.  Clay felt the various loads being siphoned
out of him...

	'Whimper.... thluuurp... gurgle... suckkk... suckkk... suckkk...'

	The dick flexed in Clay's hand.

	Leaked.

	Farello gave a deep grunt into Clay's hole.  Then...

	'WOOF!  Nnnnngh... thrluuuurp.... probe.... dig... scarf... lick!'

	Suddenly Clay was being eaten out as never before.  Only the double
rimming he had been given once by Spike and Dad had come close.  Coach
drilled his tongue in as if mining for coal.

	Clay cried out in joy.

	'Oh CRAP, Dad, you gotta try out this guy's tongue...! OOOF!'

	'In a minute, son, just having a look at the dial.'

	Sure enough, the monitor on the side of the chair told Thor that
the soft, spongy appendage and doubled in girth and solidified into full
dildo mode.  Farello was no longer being rimmed by the machine.  He was
being raped by it!

	Roughly, too, by the way the chair was slamming him up and down
against that waist restraint. But Farello's response was to drive his
tongue ever deeper up the ass of one of his captors and merely squirm on
the impalement.

	Thor cranked up the controls.  The dildo grew in girth half as much
again and picked up the pace even more.  A slim rubber tube up the centre
of the dildo began feeding Coach's ass stored cum and piss, which everyone
had contributed to earlier, from a heated tank in the machine's base.

	Clay pulled off Farello's face and immediately the guy began to
wail and whimper, long drawn out anguish made choppy by the thrusting of
the chair...

	'Ahahaha...' he bawled, 'Ahhhh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uhhh...'

	But there was heat in there as well.  The fires of lust blazed in
that face also.  Clay reached forward and licked his mouth.

	Farello latched on and frenched the boy manically, lost in the heat
of his assault, drunk on sensations he had never encountered before.

	Next Thor forced Farello to eat out his own, much raunchier ass,
but the junior coach went at it with even more gusto that before.

	The dirtier the better, it seemed.

	Finally Thor sat down on Farello's dick and pulled Clay into his
own lap, burying his father dick deep.  The three men chain-fucked like
that for a good five minutes before Farello lost it and set of a
chain-reaction of orgasm thru the others.

	Its sensors attuned to such things, the chair gradually quietened
down to stationary, the appendage shrank down and recoiled back into the
SmartCushion.

	Father and son dragged the dazed coach to the bathroom and threw
him in the tub.  There he was able to let go from his hole the massive
quantity of piss and cum that had been stored inside.  The Larsens showered
him with fresh supplies for good measure, and then they climbed into the
tub with him and they all shared the accumulated fluids in a threeway piss
party.




	Unusually, father and son slept together that night and Farello
spent the night with them.  When they finally crawled into Thor's kingsize,
freshly showered but exhausted, the Larsens explained to him about Spike's
dungeons and the forthcoming Hallowe'en Family Ball.

	Quickly Farello understood and they clued him in on the role they
needed him to play.  In one evening Farello had gone from buttoned up
goody-goody to a raunch-loving sex pig, so the whole prospect only filled
him with excitement.

	'Men,' he told them, 'as plans go, it's ambitious as Hell, with all
sorts of variables that could go horribly wrong - but count me the fuck
in!'  He thought a moment. 'Only thing is - how the fuck we gonna get
around Symansky?  He's Head fucking Coach?'

	'Symansky?'  Clay laughed.  'Whose load do you think you saw
pouring out my ass before practice?'

	Farello goggled at him.

	'That beefy sonofabitch?  No fucking WAY!'

	Clay nodded.  'He's been dicking my ass since the start of the
year.  You think YOU'RE a dirty pig?  You have NO idea.  Turns out he knows
ALL SORTS of things.  And he also happens to be good friends with a certain
Coach Rogers.'

	'Rogers?  The Head Coach at Woodmont High?'

	Thor nudged him from the other side.  'We know Coach Rogers VERY
well, don't we, son?'

	Clay nodded.

	'And in QUITE a different context.'

	Farello shook his head, pleased but dazed by it all.

	'Man, Hallowe'en looks set to get interesting.'

	'Buddy,' replied Thor, swiping his tongue over Farello's lips, 'You
have NO fuckin' idea!  Now give me ya ass again, I'm hungry...'



	END OF PART NINE.