Date: Tue, 19 Apr 2022 21:11:42 -0400
From: Samuel Stefanik <churchphilips@yahoo.com>
Subject: Crown Vic to a Parallel World: The Beginning.  Chapter 36

Here's the next chapter as promised.  Shawn teaches Church a new game in
this chapter.  It's a game I wish someone would play with me.  I wonder if
you'd like to play.  Let me know.  I hope you enjoy the chapter and the
game!

If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please
close up now and have a great day!  If you are of legal age and are
interested, by all means keep going.  I'll be glad to have you along for
the journey.  Please donate to Nifty.  This is a great resource for great
stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.

36

A Debate and a Game

I woke up late the next morning, after seven, which is late for me.  It was
Sunday and we had nowhere to be.  Shawn was in the kitchen, programming
breakfast.  He was wearing briefs and nothing else.  My hunger stirred but
not for eggs and bacon.  Shawn felt my hunger.  He flushed, gripped the
countertop, and shook his head.  "No...no, no, no!  No more!  It hasn't
even been twenty-four hours.  How can you want to go again?"

"How could I not with you around?"  I sat up in bed so I could get a better
view.  "You're like a walking Viagra.  Besides, you're young and fit and I
haven't felt this good in over a decade.  Come to think about it, me
feeling good is your fault.  Why'd you tune the engine if you didn't want
to go for a ride?"

Shawn stared for a second, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"You are a silly ass."  He went back to the touch screen, canceled his
original order and programmed something different.  He marched to the
closet, gathered clothes, and headed toward the bathroom.  He paused by the
bed.  "Your breakfast will be ready in a minute.  Eat every bite.  I'm
going to shower...ALONE.  When I finish, I will eat while you clean up and
dress.  We are leaving this apartment this morning."  His instructions
issued, he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

I considered having some filthy fantasies to try and push enough lust along
our link to get his motor running.  I'd almost decided to do just that when
the bathroom door swung open to reveal Shawn's naked body seductively
posed.  His back was pressed to the latch side of the door jamb, his right
leg, closest to me, was bent and his foot flat against the jamb and in line
with his back.  He looked at me, bedroom eyes and pouting lips.  He ran his
right hand sensuously down his torso and let it disappear into his crotch
behind his bent leg.

He unfolded the leg, sticking it straight out from his body, and he flexed
the muscles that he knew I liked best.  They bulged and corded under his
glistening white skin.  He lowered his foot to the floor and turned toward
me, his hands hiding his package.  "We'll go for a nice long ride, later
on."  He grabbed the door knob, pulled the door shut, and locked it.

"YOU'RE KILLING ME!" I shouted my frustration at the locked door.  Shawn's
emotions changed, from naughty to proud that he'd managed to tease me.
He'd done more than just tease.  He'd dumped gasoline on my burning lust,
then blasted it with a fire extinguisher.  I was tempted to unlock the
bathroom door with magic and storm the shower stall, but I controlled
myself.  I reasoned, `he's all but promised, if I give him the day he
wants, he'll give me the night I want.  I guess I can wait.'  I looked down
at the `good morning' tent in my briefs.  "Settle down, Junior." I said to
my swollen member. "Have to save it for later."  The culinarian chimed and
it was time for breakfast.

With my lust on hold, my physical hunger became the immediate priority.  I
went to the open automatic door on the culinarian to see what was for
breakfast.  Shawn had programmed greasy, breaded fried chicken and waffles
swimming in butter and syrup.  The coffee that went with it was a milkshake
of cream and sugar.  I dumped the coffee out and got a cup of plain black.
I was willing to do everything I could to keep my weight up, but I had to
draw the line at adulterating my coffee.  I didn't hold many things sacred,
but black coffee was near the top of that short list.  Everything else
about the meal was welcome.  I dug in.

* * * *

"What do you want to do?" Shawn asked as we hit the street a little after
nine-thirty.  There was a light breeze that tossed Shawn's hair into his
face.  He took a white tie from his pocket and secured his hair into a
loose ponytail.  The wind tossed my hair as well.  I tried to tie it up
like he had, but I was still unused to the action and had to ask him for
help.

Shawn was dressed conservatively in a yellow pullover shirt, white pants,
and orange heels.  The clothes fit him, but didn't show him off like some
of his other outfits I'd seen him wear.  I wore my light-blue / royal-blue
suit that was rapidly becoming my favorite.  The clothes reminded me of my
weight loss.  I had to cinch the pants tighter to keep them on and the
shirt-front hung lower than it used to.

I pushed my hands in my pants pockets and my jacket flapped open behind my
arms.  "I don't know.  Nothing physical, that's for shit sure.  What do you
do when you're not climbing walls?  Are there museums or sporting events or
something?"

Shawn checked his phone.  "It's Sunday, and Sunday is a day for socializing
outdoors, so most of the parks will be hosting some kind of event.  They
have all sorts of stuff.  Each park has a venue of some kind, a sports
field, or a wall for climbing, or a track for running, or a playground, or
an amphitheater for plays or lectures.  There will be events at some of
them almost every day, but on Sundays, they're all active.  Let's
see...there's a Puer Sphera match at the park two units over." He paused
and scrolled some more.

I used the pause in Shawn's list of activities to search the Shawn
reference book in my mind to see what Puer Sphera was.  I remembered Bem
once comparing my penis to a Puer Sphera club, but I didn't know what that
meant, and I'd been too embarrassed at the time to search for the meaning
of his jibe.  Now that Shawn had mentioned what I assumed was a sport, I
thought about it to see what it was.  Shawn's memories told me that Puer
Sphera was a team sport played with a club like a cricket bat, a red ball,
and two teams, one fielding and one batting.  It would have been easy to
compare the sport to baseball or cricket, but it wasn't possible.  Shawn's
memories of the game were muddled and displayed the fact that he didn't
really understand the game.  It seemed that there was a basic framework of
rules that could be added to or modified by a third-party game master who
was one-quarter umpire, one-quarter referee, one-quarter time keeper, and
one-half puppeteer.

The fact that those quarters and halves added up to one-and-a-quarter was
appropriate because of the insanity inherent to the position.  This
official would manage the game and change the rules every period to suit
the game play and his or her own whims.  The scoring was mostly arbitrary
and unintelligible to most people.  Puer Sphera was a game played for the
sake of playing.  People cheered individual plays instead of wins and
losses.

In fact, there was a professional Puer Sphera league, but personnel for
each team was selected from the whole of the league for each individual
match.  Since the teams changed for each game, no statistics were possible
and no performance records were kept.  Teams didn't win or lose.  They came
together to play the game for a prescribed period, to entertain themselves
and the crowd, then they all left as friends having had fun and taken
pleasure in physical accomplishment.

The whole concept left me scratching my head.  I assumed we'd have to watch
a match for me to have any chance at understanding the game, but I wasn't
terribly interested in seeing a sporting event that day.  Shawn finished
his scrolling and went on with his list.

"There's a lecture on dealing with stress at a park in the other
direction," he scrolled some more, and saw something that excited him.
"There's a debate on the existence of a higher power.  I've been curious
about the idea.  Can we go to that?"

The subject wasn't one I liked, but Shawn was excited, so I buried my
distaste as not to spoil his fun.  "How far?" I asked.

Shawn did some more scrolling and tapping.  "Three miles, a little less; it
starts at eleven."

"Good, let's walk."

He checked his phone for directions and we set off.  We were a few blocks
into the journey when I realized I'd been the one to suggest a three-mile
walk.  `Who the hell are you and what have you done with Church?' I asked
myself.  There was no denying how good I felt and how much energy I had.  I
felt like I was Shawn's age again.  I think I felt even better than I had
when I was in my twenties, because I discovered there was pleasure in
moving my body around.

I floated a nut from the bag in my pocket and crunched on it.  The only
downside to my new state-of-affairs was the constant hunger.  Despite the
massive meals I put away, I still had to snack more or less continuously.
It was getting to be such a habit, that I didn't even have to think about
it.  My magic became an automatic feeding system, like mid-air refueling
for a jet, but less flashy.  The eating was becoming less of a chore, but
only because I was constantly distracted with activity.  "I've never been
to a debate.  What's it like?" I asked.

Shawn strode with purpose as he explained, talking with his hands.  His
enthusiasm animated him to the point where some passers-by shrank away from
his broad gestures.  "Oh, they're great!  Two people on opposite sides of
an issue get a half hour each to make their case to the audience.  There's
a ten minutes question and answer period after each speech.  Then they
debate each other for another half-hour with a moderator.  At the end, the
moderator asks the crowd to cheer for who they think made the better
argument."

"What's the point?"

"It's entertainment that makes you think.  The debaters are usually retired
professors, authors, politicians, celebrities with strong opinions; some of
them do this kind of thing for a living.  They go all over and argue.  I
went to one last year where two astronomers debated the existence of
parallel worlds."  He chuckled.  "I cheered for the one who argued
against."

It was an interesting concept, this public debate idea.  It didn't exactly
mesh with my idea of fun, but that definition had been changing a lot since
I met Shawn.  If someone would have asked me if I'd ever get enjoyment out
of climbing shit, I would have laughed in their face.  `Maybe this will be
good.' I thought. `I don't think much of the topic though.  I could have
this debate inside my own head.'

Our walk took us through a shopping district where the Sunday crowds made
discussion difficult.  I stopped at a cafˇ with a service window open to
the sidewalk and got a coffee for me and a black tea with milk for Shawn.
We continued until we found ourselves on quieter residential blocks.  These
were still busy, but not as much.

"What is the accepted position on God?" I asked as I sipped my coffee. "Is
there one?"

"The accepted wisdom is there isn't.  The beginning of the universe and the
foundation of all magic is called `The Spark.'  It's not an existence, it's
an energy.  Life was an accident and when we're dead, that's it.  There's
been a movement to revive the ancient faiths, though there isn't much
information still around about them.  A lot of people are attracted to the
idea of life after death."

I chewed on that like a piece of gristly steak.  I always thought the
concept of an afterlife was a nice fairy tale, but not one I subscribed to.
I must have been grumbling in my head because Shawn picked up the
negativity.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing...well, not nothing."  This was a discussion that would take
several days to have properly.  It was also one I wasn't ready to have with
him.  I evaded.  "I'm not going to spoil your fun with my bullshit.  Don't
worry about it."

"We don't have to go..."

"Shawn, it's fine.  I am actually a little interested to see how they
explain it here.  I'll try to keep an open mind, and I'll try not drown you
in anxiety."  Shawn made a few more offers to find another activity, but I
refused them all.

We got to the park in good time to get seats.  The venue was great, a
natural amphitheater carved from an outcropping of brown sandstone.  The
seating rose at a shallow angle from the stage as a stepped series of
horizontal one-hundred-and-eighty-degree arches.  I guessed its capacity
was around fifteen-hundred.  The stage was just large enough for the two
opposing podiums and a desk for the moderator.

The day was beautiful; bright blue sky, light breeze, about seventy
degrees.  People crowded into the amphitheater filling it to capacity.  The
overflow gathered to stand at the top of the outcropping.  We sat in the
bottom third of the seating, a little left of center.  The seats were a
little low for my height, but there was plenty of leg room, even for me.
Men and women in all-black sold peanuts, popcorn, cold drinks, and cold
sandwiches.  I bought some stuff and asked Shawn why the vendors were
dressed in black.

"That way they stand out." He said like it was obvious.

I looked around at the box of crayons I sat among; the people in black
certainly stood out.  `I guess if you wanted to rob a bank, you'd dress in
hot pink to blend.' I thought with a smile.

The event started on time with the moderator, a very short, forceful woman
in a green pants-suit.  She introduced the topic and the debaters.  Mister
Aedifacio, a theologian and historian, argued in favor of the existence of
a higher power while Miss Erudio, a scientist and philosopher, argued
against.  As God was a new idea to most people, Mister Aedifacio went
first.

The man was in his late middle age, conservatively dressed, and bookish.  A
pompadour of salt and pepper hair graced his large head and an orange suit
struggled to slim his overweight body.  He had a soothing, deep voice that
spoke with authority.  He carried a black tablet to the podium and gestured
with its stylus as he spoke.  He had a habit of breaking his sentences into
pieces and facing different sides of the crowd as he said each.

"The subject of (left face) a being greater than ourselves, (right face) a
`god' if you will, (left face) is a complex matter."

He used every bit of his thirty minutes to lay out a very convincing
version of the argument for intelligent design.  Basically, the world is so
complex, and everything works together so well, it must be the result of a
great intellect.  This benevolent being created the universe and everything
in it.  He did it for the benefit of mankind.  He looks out for his people
and will grant them everlasting life when they die.  To support his
argument, the man referenced ancient texts that sounded suspiciously like
The Bible.  He also relied heavily on the assumption that his argument made
sense and therefore had to be accepted as accurate.

Shawn loved the man's speech.  "He's right!" Shawn gushed. "How could all
this happen by accident?  Some force has to be behind it and that force has
to be intelligent.  It's not much of a leap to think that force is
concerned with our well-being."

I rubbed my face, pulled my watch off, and stretched it out.  `Youth is so
easily convinced by a pretty story.' I thought.

"I can tell you don't agree." Shawn said to me, his enthusiasm dampened by
my negative feelings.

I asked an `elephant in the room' question.  "If your all-powerful force is
so concerned, what the fuck am I doing here?"

That brought him up short.  "That's true..." he trailed off and retreated
into his thoughts.

Members of the audience stood to ask questions.  The moderator acknowledged
them and monitored the time.  Most of the questions were patronizing; asked
by people who wanted to believe.  The answers that Aedifacio gave were just
as obvious and patronizing.  I sat, grinding my teeth until I couldn't take
it anymore.  I stood to be recognized.  Shawn worried when I stood up and
tried to pull me back down, but I wouldn't let him.  I wondered where the
worry came from, what he thought I was going to do, but I didn't stop to
ask.

The moderator pointed to me.  I folded my watch inside my left hand, took a
deep breath, and reminded myself not to be rude or to make a spectacle of
myself.  "Mister Aedifacio, where do we go when we die?"

The bookish man waved his stylus in front of his face like it was the
pendulum of a metronome.  "Why to paradise, of course."  He turned to take
another question, but I didn't let him.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why?" He parroted.

I folded my arms over my chest and doubled-down on my question.  "Yes, why
do we get to go to paradise?  Do we all get to go, or are there
requirements?"

Aedifacio was affronted, but tried not to show it.  "The great power isn't
petty.  He does not pick and choose.  We are all his creations, therefore
we all get to go."  He tried to move on again, but I raised my voice to
stop him.

"What if I'm a murderer?"  I asked.  A murmur went through the crowd.
Shawn tugged desperately on the hem of my jacket to get me to stop.  I
ignored him.

Aedifacio peered along his prominent nose at me.  "A murderer, sir?
Perhaps you mean a soldier or member of the police who sometimes must kill
to protect.  In those instances..."

I cut him off.  "No.  I'm talking about a cold-blooded killer."

He dropped the stylus with a clatter and ran his fingers around the rim of
the podium.  He seemed to be stalling.  "Then, sir, you would not get to
go."  Aedifacio didn't bother trying to move on.  He recognized I wasn't
done, and that I was too damn big to ignore.

"Then what would become of my everlasting soul?"

"The ancient texts tell of a place of punishment for those who are wicked
or unnatural."

I was pleased with his response and smiled in spite of myself.  His answer
put me on very solid and very familiar ground.  "Who decides what it means
to be unnatural?" I asked.

"Sir?"

"Follow me for a minute.  I assume that any normal biological functions
would be considered natural.  That means sex between a man and a woman for
the purpose of procreation is natural.  Following that logic, it could be
argued that all sex that isn't for the biological purpose of procreation is
unnatural.  It would then follow that sex for pleasure is unnatural.
Therefore, all homosexual sex is unnatural, as is any act that has no
possibility of resulting in conception.  Those acts would include oral,
anal, and self-pleasure.  Thoughts on that?"

Aedifacio held onto the podium like if he let it go, he'd sink into the
stage.  Another murmur rippled through the crowd.  "Time has expired." The
moderator announced.

I sat down.  "Why did you do that?" Shawn hissed.  He was embarrassed that
I'd taken over the debate.  He seemed to be fighting the urge to get up and
leave the event.

"I'm sorry.  I got carried away." I pried my hand open and put my watch
back on.  A red imprint of the non-functional face showed deep in my palm.

"What was all that about unnatural sex?  What's wrong with what we do?"

"Nothing, that's the fucking point, but if my parents were here, they'd be
telling us both we're damned to hell.  Religion is a sword that cuts both
ways.  It can be a comfort that helps give meaning to people's lives.  It
can also be a weapon to control those people.  I was raised with the weapon
and none of the comfort."

I propped my elbows on my thighs and dropped my head in my hands.  Shawn's
embarrassment had faded to pity.  He seemed sorry he'd exposed me to a
subject that was at the heart of a large portion of the emotional turmoil I
fought with.  He rubbed my back.  "I guess we should have gone to the ball
game instead."  I didn't answer.  I was sorry that I couldn't get through
the event without drowning Shawn in my anxiety, but I didn't think an
apology would do any good.  I brooded and waited for the event to end.

Erudio launched into an impassioned speech in favor of atheism.  I didn't
feel like listening, even to someone who I agreed with.  I caught enough of
the speech to understand that she advanced the theory that if a planet
could sustain life, eventually it would.  Man evolved through natural
selection over millions of years to his current position of dominance in
the world.

"Sir." An unfamiliar voice called in a hoarse whisper.

I looked up into the face of a non-descript man in black who wanted my
attention.  "Come with me please."  The man said.  Shawn and I rose and
followed as he threaded his way through the crowd.  I assumed I was being
ejected from the event for being mouthy and Shawn was being ejected for
being with me.

The non-descript man brought us to a spot behind the stage, deep into what
would have been the wings if we were in an actual theater.  We were
presented to a dumpy man in a burgundy suit with a blue shirt and tie, and
a deep frown on his broad, flat face.  He had a mop of unkempt, light brown
hair that grew out of the back of his head and accentuated an expanse of
high forehead that wrinkled to match his frown.  He stood with his hands
clasped behind him.  "Who are you?" the dumpy man asked.

"Church..." I forgot my alias for a moment and stumbled,
"Incolumitas...Church Incolumitas."  I said and didn't offer my hand.

"What is it that you do, Mister Incolumitas?"

"I'm a wel...uh," I stumbled again, "I work for The HALL."

The dumpy man cleared his throat.  He leaned forward and back like he had a
kink in his spine he was trying to work out.  "In what capacity do you work
for The HALL?"

I pictured my hall pass in my head and paraphrased my title from it.
"Special consultant to Steward Summas."

He rocked back on his heels and seemed to think aloud.  "Indeed...special
consultant..."  He trailed off and walked in a circle around himself.  He
stopped to frown at me some more.  "You are an educated man?" He prompted.

"I am a tradesman."

He rocked on his heels some more.  "Indeed, sir."  He had a conversation
with himself while he looked at me.  "A tradesman who is also a special
consultant...certainly an intelligent man...a logical man."  He made his
mind up about something and spoke to me again.  "It is a nice day.  I
assume you agree it is a nice day?"

`What the fuck is he up to?' I wondered. `Nice day?  What?'  The dumpy
man's frown faltered and he seemed to almost grin with mischief.  It dawned
on me that I was being tested.  I attempted to rise to the veiled
challenge.  "You're stating an opinion." I offered.

The dumpy man's frown deepened to a mean scowl.  "No, sir.  It is a fact
that the day is very nice."

"What's your criteria?" I replied, deliberately keeping the challenge out
of my voice. "I find the day horrid."

"Horrid!" He blustered. "It is a perfect day to be outdoors."

"You are still stating opinion." I gently corrected the dumpy man. "You
think it's perfect.  I disagree.  I wanted to go skiing.  I think the day
is horrid.  It's horrid for skiing."

The dumpy man actually grinned for a split second before resuming his
frown.  "Have you ever debated?  Would you consider an engagement to debate
in this forum?  I am Hice, the organizer of these events.  You seem to have
a knack for this...destroyed the arguments of that dreamer down there and
did it with a few carefully constructed questions.  What do you think,
sir?"

I thought it was hysterical.  I thought it was hysterical enough to go
along with.  "I think it would be fun to debate.  I have an assignment that
will keep me occupied for the next several weeks or maybe a little more.
Could I contact you after and maybe set something up?"

"That is acceptable, sir." Hice nodded with his whole body. "I look forward
to hearing from you Mister Incolumitas."

We swapped contact information and parted company.  Shawn and I exited the
venue and strolled through the park toward the exit, talking as we went.

Shawn was shocked at my exchange with Hice.  "You're going to debate?" He
asked.

I shrugged.  "Sure, why not?"

"What would you debate, religion?"

I laughed at his worry.  "I could debate anything.  Take a position on
anything and I'll argue with you."

"What if it's something you don't know anything about?"

"Then I'll attack the merits of my opponent's case.  I'll look for flaws in
his logic and jump on them."

"But..."

We exited the park and strolled the residential district toward the
shopping area and lunch.  I tried to elaborate on my ability to argue.
"I'm a construction worker and I'm gay.  I had to be on my toes every
second to keep from being found out.  Contractors are traditionally male,
manly men who would rather die than be thought of as queer.  Quick wit is
your only defense.  It taught me to pay very close attention when people
try to sell their ideas.  That guy earlier, the theologian, he believed
because he wanted to, not because he had good reason to.  Those guys are
the easiest to break down.  Anyone who takes a position because it feels
good, has taken that position for the wrong reasons."

"What if you agree with them?"

"I can't agree with illogical people.  I can agree with their position, but
if their reasons are weak, I'll attack them just as hard as if I didn't
agree.  I have a mechanical mind.  I like knowing how machinery works.  I
think that's what makes me a logical person.  The logic of an argument has
to mesh like the cogs in a transmission.  When they don't, the argument
can't move forward."

We walked a while in silence, silence except for my constantly munching
jaws.  Shawn didn't bring the subject up again until we were sitting in a
cafe waiting for our meals.  "You don't think there is a higher power?"

"I don't know." I admitted. "Maybe there is.  My faith is tangled up with
the religion I was raised in.  I abandoned my faith in religion and with it
went my faith in anything else.  I don't believe in a god like that guy
described.  Maybe there is something out there.  Is it a warm, caring,
father figure that takes care of us and knows everything?  I don't buy
that."

Shawn fiddled with his ice water; the cubes made little tinkling sounds as
they moved in the glass.  "Doesn't that make all this kind of hollow?  If
there's no point and nothing after this?"

My former fatalism joined the conversation.  "You forget that up until a
couple weeks ago, I was looking forward to oblivion.  Ask me in six months,
maybe I'll have a different answer."

Sour anxiety drifted to me over our link.  Shawn stared into the table and
clutched the water glass.  "Do you believe I'll be able to?"

I touched his fingers, wet and cool from the condensation on the glass.  He
dragged his eyes to mine.  "I'm starting to think so.  Neb is smart and
capable, Bem is capable and I think deadly under the teasing, you're an
amazing doctor, and I've got this power plant inside me.  I mean, I fucked
up a whole mountain yesterday.  Taking care of one little demon king should
be like swatting a mosquito."

Shawn's anxiety broke, and calm settled in.  He smiled.  "If you're
optimistic, we've already won."

"Good." I looked passed him to see our waiter struggling with an overloaded
tray. "Looks like our food is here.  Let's eat."

* * * *

We ate, then window shopped around the stores on both sides of the block.
When there wasn't any more to look at, we went home.  I was too early to
eat, but too close to dinner time to start any other extra-curriculars.  I
sat on the couch and flipped on the TV.  Shawn busied himself doing
something.  The closet door opened, the built-in drawers opened and shut,
the closet door shut, and he came to sit with me.  He passed between me and
the screen on his way to sit down.  He was nude and I was surprised.

"Uh, Shawn...I'm not complaining...but..."

"Why am I naked?" He finished my thought. "I thought you might like this.
Roeb and I did this sometimes.  It's a game I read about somewhere.  You
take your clothes off and do whatever; watch TV, eat, read, talk.  In
between, you touch, tease, kiss, anything you want.  The goal is to drive
the other person as crazy as you can without getting them off.  Whoever
makes their partner orgasm first, loses."

"What does the winner get?"

Shawn bit his full lower lip and hit me with that up-from-under look that
drives me wild.  "The winner gets whatever he wants."

I jumped up and went to the closet to disrobe.  "Should I shower?"  I asked
as I tossed things in the hamper.

"No.  We might shower later, as part of the game, but we didn't sweat
today."

I returned to the couch.  He leaned into me and breathed.  "I like the way
you smell at the end of the day, especially without the cigarettes.  Shower
fresh is nice, but then you smell like soap.  Now you smell like you."

"I'm glad you said that.  I LOVE the way you smell.  I thought it made me a
creep."

"Not at all.  I'm glad you like my scent."  He shifted the way he was
sitting so his face was closer to mine.  "I like the way you taste to.
Kiss me."

I kissed him, tasted him, felt the heat of his body.  The kiss ended, I
pulled away.  Shawn's eyes searched my face, looking for I don't know what.
He shook his head.  "No." In one graceful motion, he went from sitting next
to me, to straddling my lap facing me. "Kiss me until it's time to eat."
He pressed his body to mine, held my head, and took my mouth.

My hands automatically reached for him.  `He is so going to lose.' I
thought.

I was wrong, so very wrong.  Shawn was an expert at sensuality.  He kept me
simmering until dinner.  We ate a light meal, then moved to the bed.  In
seconds I was boiling, and he kept me that way for what felt like hours.
He drove me to the point where I didn't even have rational thoughts.  He
turned me into a quivering, whimpering mass of need.  I had no way to
respond or to tease him.  Shawn was in complete control, and he was having
a blast.

Occasionally he would slow down to let me breathe, let me come back from
the edge, let my rational thought return, before he turned the heat up
again.  It took two or three of those intervals for me to come up with a
plan.  The fourth time he slowed down enough for me to think, I grabbed
him.

I couldn't turn the tables to make him into the quivering bowl of gelatin
he'd turned me into.  He'd driven me too far for me to maintain control
long enough to do that, but I could end the game.  I used my greater size
to pin Shawn to the mattress so I could finish him.  I didn't do it
gracefully or sensuously, but I did it quickly.

I held him down with my hands on his shoulders and my knees next to his
hips, so my calves pinned down his legs, and I stroked him with my magic.
It was the first time I'd used my power on his `sensitive bits.'  I wished
I could have savored the feeling, but I was too crazy with lust to enjoy
myself.  Shawn writhed in pleasure as I pushed him over the edge, his
climax painting us both as he cried out.  His orgasm almost dragged me over
the edge with him...almost but not quite.

I rolled onto my back, releasing him so he could catch his breath.  He
pushed himself up on his knees and hovered over me.  He looked like pure
sex.  Fresh sweat glistened on his skin, his still-hard cock bobbed
invitingly, and a thick rope of white cum streaked from his naval to the
front of his right shoulder.  The room reeked of sweat and cum.  The sweat
slicked body hair that coated my stomach and chest was unevenly frosted
with the rest of his load.  I was so hard, it was painful.  I needed to cum
so badly, every second that went by without release was torture.

Shawn grinned at me.  The grin reminded me of his uncle's Cheshire Cat
smile.  It made me nervous.  "Good strategy." He said in a way that let me
know there was a `but' coming. "But giving up like that, means I win.
Let's see," he stroked his chin dramatically, "what do I want for my
prize?"  He leaned over me, his face in mine, his words brushing my skin.
"I want to see just how crazy I can make you."

He leaned back to put his body on display for me again.  He used his right
palm to smear the cum from his stomach, up to his chest, gathering the
cream in his palm as he went.  He showed me the handful of frosting he'd
gathered in his palm, then reached down and smeared it across my face, from
my left cheek to my right, passing over my gasping, open mouth as he went.
I tasted his essence on my lips and tongue, the scent of it filled my nose
even more than before.  He bent down, with his face in mine.  He breathed
into my mouth and kissed me.

He kissed me with his hot, sucking mouth and I knew I was in trouble.  I
almost gave up and finished myself.  The emotions I felt from him stopped
me.  He felt lusty and powerful.  More than that, he was getting off on how
much I burned for him, how much I craved him and the release he could give
me.  My last rational thought before he turned the heat up again was, `if
this is what it means to belong to him...OH GOD!'

Ending the game was the best and the worst thing I could have done.  It was
the best because it removed the rules from his actions, and the worst for
the same reason.  Now that he didn't have to hold back his own orgasms, he
used sex as part of my torture.  He did things, used me, fucked me...more
than once.  I had to watch jealously as he climaxed three more times before
he finished me.  When he finally allowed me to climax, my orgasm was epic;
Fourth of July fireworks, New Year's Eve elation, and Christmas morning all
rolled together.  Every nerve in my body hummed with electricity.  I
convulsed like an epileptic fish, yanked from the water in the middle of a
seizure, and dropped in the bottom of the boat to flop around among the
tackle and empty beer cans.

Shawn propped himself on his elbow to watch me shake.  When I settled down
enough, he set a hand in the center of my chest.  My heart hammered from
the adrenalin, and I gulped in air to recover from the mind-blowing
pleasure.  "Good?" He asked.

"FUCK...OH...GOD...I uh...I uh...FUCK!"

An aftershock went through me like a jolt of high voltage.  He seemed to
enjoy it as much as I did.  After a while, my breath steadied and my heart
slowed, and my mind started working again.  "Holy shit, Shawn.  Where the
fuck did you learn to do that?  I feel like I saw God and he fucked my
brains out.  FUCK!"

"I'm glad you liked it." He grinned and glowed with pride. "No one has ever
lasted that long.  Roeb would get tired of the game and get himself off.
You were amazing.  I felt you, it was like you begged me to finish you, but
you begged me to keep going.  I can't believe you lasted like that."

"What time is it?" I asked and wondered if it was even the same day.

"Almost ten.  I've been edging you for more than four hours, not counting
dinner."

I pulled him into me and held him tight.  "Save that one for special
occasions, huh?  I mean WOW, the finale was grand, but the build-up was
torture."

"Why didn't you stop me?" He whispered, worried that he'd gone too far.

"You were having too much fun and after a certain point, it became a
mission to last as long as you wanted me to."

He leaned back far enough to kiss the end of my nose.  "Thanks.  You want
to clean up?"

I rolled my head against the pillow to signify the negative.  "In the
morning.  My legs are rubber, and I don't think you're up to carrying me.
How about a kiss and a quick knock out?"

He kissed my mouth and stroked my face with his love and his soft hand.
"Perfect."  He said and my lights went out.