Strange RelationshipsChapter 55: Various Consummations free porn video

Caitlin McGrath had her knees up around her ears, pressed there by Howard Silverman's hands while he leaned on them to support himself as he jackhammered her twat. Her breasts wobbled like jello, but fortunately they weren't big enough to damage anything, so she just let 'em go, rubbing Howard's upper arms while he made like the Energizer Bunny!

Howard was wishing he could get his lips on the pinkish brown, thick nubs that stuck bullet-like up from the center of Caitlin's wrinkled areolas, but they were out of reach. Her pussy wasn't though, and he was in it, driving deep -- and the responses he was getting from Caitlin said that she was VERY happy about it!

"O, BABY! OGOD! YEAH! GET IT! TAKE IT!" Caitlin wailed in accompaniment to pelvic lurches that somehow managed to increase the force of the impacts that Howard was already delivering. Howard was amazed at Caitlin's total lack of inhibition; once she got going, she just couldn't contain herself, apparently. But it was hot -- incredibly exciting -- and it matched her personality perfectly; Howard had no fears that she was faking her responses.

Caitlin hadn't had a dick like this in over five years -- and THEN it had been a one-nighter with a young kid too horny to pass up a run-in with an 'old woman'! Howard was hammering her like an eighteen year old, and while she KNEW she was making a fool of herself, she had no control over her mouth -- or her feelings! Howard was hitting her cervix, for Christ's sake -- and her clit, too! And he just kept coming... Caitlin hit overload; her face became a rictus, her eyes wild while she clutched his arms and wailed, "Gimmee! GIMMEE!! GIMMEEEEEEEEE!!!!! AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

In a moment she relaxed and went limp, panting breathlessly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, Howard!"

Howard, wondering if she was done, asked, "Are you okay?"

"Uh huh," Caitlin panted. "Gimme a minute... DON'T STOP!" Howard, who had slacked off momentarily, put it back in gear. "Are you okay?"

Howard nodded. This was more exercise than he'd had in a while, but he wasn't hurting for it -- and he hadn't cum. If she hadn't drained him earlier, he probably wouldn't have lasted this long, but she had and he was still in the running... "I've got a little bit left..."

Erin got her 'babble mode' from her mother -- and Caitlin was plenty stimulated; she had already bottomed out and was climbing the slope again. "Well, I want it! I want ALL of it! I want EVERY DROP!" She was hunching her back, driving her twat up at him again. "If you need something, you let me know! I want you to cum -- BIG -- 'cause I just did, and if you keep that up, I'm gonna do it again!"

There's nothing like hearing you're doing a good job; Howard's cum clock jumped from 'eventually' to 'soon' under Caitlin's verbal encouragement. Howard adopted a two-cycle stroke -- alternating a short jab with deep penetrations -- and Caitlin's eyes popped. "Good God, where did THAT come from? Oh, SHIT that's good! O God! Oh! Oh! Oh, wow!" Something about that stroke was just hitting her EVERYWHERE! "Oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum again! Cum! Cum! CUM! OH, FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Howard was right with her, dragged along by her excitement and the change in texture of her pussy as it started milking him. He tried to hold out for thirds, but the sensations were exquisite; his whole cock was one big buzzing nerve ending! He gritted his teeth, fighting it, riding the edge -- until every move was a torturous mix of exquisite pleasure and pain -- and Caitlin was literally hanging from him, having hauled herself off the bed by her grip on his shoulders in an effort to get more of him inside her. He backed off one more time, then hurtled forward like a freight train, exploding on impact.

"Oh, GAWD!" Howard drove Caitlin into the mattress, and the unmistakable feel of his load being delivered under pressure right at the door to her womb added two stories to the tower of her orgasm, just as she leaped off! "Oh, YESSSSS! Shoot in me! CUM! CUM!!!" Her legs, which Howard had released for his final thrust, wrapped themselves behind his ass, pulling him deep while she clutched him to her and rocked, immersed in pure animal joy.

Howard felt as though he was totally wrapped up in her, being carried forward right inside of her -- and he came and came and came, dredging semen from God knew where! It was a wet mess, but Caitlin was beside herself with joy -- and every pulse added a cherry to it! Howard was dazed; you just didn't cum like this with a hooker, and his short list of amateur partners hadn't come close! When he was more or less grounded in reality again, he ventured, "Are you okay?"

"Okay doesn't come close!" Caitlin gasped. "Wow! We made a flood!" Only in the aftermath did she realize that in the heat of the moment, they'd forgotten rubbers. Ah, well, that's what the Pill was for...

"Yeah..." Howard made to move.

"Forget it. There's no real fix, and I don't want to move right now. Can you reach the blankets?"

"Yeah." Howard managed to haul them up, bit by bit, without being allowed to escape Caitlin's comforting embrace, then collapsed bonelessly atop her, merging with her, wondering how such a thin woman managed to make him feel cocooned...

Charlotte Pinkersley let her mind drift in post-coital relaxation; Hubert was already snoring, but he'd done his job... Charlotte had been lucky finding Hubert; she'd been facing the scenario she'd ladled out to Claudette on that memorable day when the girl was fourteen...

Sex had ruined her at home and ruined her at high school. College had been a fresh start, but she was too green and too lusty. When she met Hubert, she was a senior in college, and on her fourth school. Frat parties were a guaranteed source of at least one guy whose smell could make her get naked -- and from there, she tended to take on all comers. She collected a reputation as a party slut by the second semester of her freshman year, which had its positive and negative aspects. Her behavior wasn't something that invited scholarships, and she was on her own -- so she had to work. But there was work and there was work; after running short several times too many on her salary from waiting tables she waded through several bouts of self-justification to end up with the realization that being a party animal was a marketable skill. After that, things got easier; she could count on one frat house or other collection of males a weekend to pass the hat and cough up a thousand or so for her services, and while she couldn't just drop her panties, she had a rule that she got to pick her first partner -- and in any group of over ten or so guys, there was one who could jump-start her. After that, the engine was running, and she tended to last longer than they did. Parties her freshman year paid her expenses for that year and tuition and fees for the new school the next -- a pattern that got her to her senior year with considerable savings that she was eking out slowly to pay expenses while trying to 'go straight'. That was a result of the down side of her activities; a 'party slut' was a great thing for frat boys to have around -- but no one wanted to DATE one! She was shunned by females twenty four hours a day and by males in any social situation; her few friends tended to be other 'party girls' -- usually unfortunates willing to spread their legs to be paid attention to at all -- and with issues to match. While that made her queen of her little group, it was an acknowledged group of losers...

Now, a senior at a new school, Charlotte was keeping her nose clean -- and wearing out a sex toy a week. Trying to stay celibate was hard, at the very least -- and she'd underestimated her budget at the expensive school she'd picked out to graduate from. Hooking wasn't something she could get into -- it was one thing to have fun and get paid for it, and another to play Russian roulette looking for the one guy in twelve whose looks didn't matter and pretend for the other eleven that she was having a good time. Oh, she could enjoy herself just having sex, but not while trying to make a buck... Besides, no normal guy stood any chance of keeping her interest!

Hubert had come into the club where she was hanging out, desperately hoping to find Mr. Right, (defined as someone who could effectively scratch her itch and optionally provide her with some support), obviously along to be the butt of the jokes the four other smooth Ivy League characters he was with kept pumping out. It was sad... Since she was easily one of the top ten women in the bar for looks, one of the sharks wandered over to collect her as his due, inviting her to join the group after a few minutes of what he chose to believe was sparkling conversation. Charlotte suffered through fifteen agonizingly boring minutes of their self-congratulation before 'accidentally' dropping her lipstick case and diving under the table to collect it. The 'boys' thought this was hilarious, one of them making the inevitable gauche comment -- but Charlotte actually WAS surfing for cock... Imagine her surprise when she surfaced above the table and discovered that the little already balding guy with the eyeglasses eyeing her owlishly could trip her trigger!

Charlotte surprised everyone present -- including herself -- by running with the ball and concentrating her attention on the unprepossessing little guy -- which turned out in short order to be a good choice, since he was the most genuine specimen present, when you got right down to it. Four hours later, they were in Hubert's room at the upscale frat house he and his friends occupied.

Hubert then delivered his second surprise of the evening; it turned out that, exposed to the smell of wet pussy, Hubert delivered the speed and stamina of a thoroughbred racehorse! He was VERY well-equipped (around eight inches!) and seemed capable of thundering along forever! By the time they finished, it was five in the morning; Hubert had managed three orgasms, and Charlotte had lost count, having been used better by one man than she'd gotten in some gangbangs!

In the morning, his native caution surfaced, (he was, after all, wealthy -- and had been approached before on that basis), forcing guarded admissions from Charlotte regarding the odd reasons why she had settled on him the night before. Charlotte was disinclined to be forthcoming, which caused him to be suspicious -- but she was also a babe, and the hottest thing in the sack he'd ever seen... There followed an uneasy period in which they dated periodically and satisfied each other, but couldn't come to trust -- but Hubert slowly put the pieces together, eventually dragging the whole surprising truth from Charlotte after destroying her inhibitions by overdosing her on his emissions. It had taken him four months to put together fluctuations in her behavior and the incidence of blowjobs -- or merely enthusiastic sniffing at his crotch -- but he was still thoroughly amazed at the answer he got:

"It was your smell, Sweetheart. I'm built funny; when I smell certain guys, I come unglued..." Charlotte resumed blissfully laving his testicles with her tongue for a moment before continuing artlessly, "That's why I went hunting for my lipstick that night -- I was looking for that smell..."

"So you sniffed my crotch?" Hubert asked incredulously.

"Yes," Charlotte replied blandly. "Surely by now you've noticed..." Her voice took on a whining note, "Can we puhleez fuck now? I really, really want it..."

Two fingers working in her gash kept her licking and talking; Hubert interrogated her for fifteen minutes, and found himself thoroughly satisfied with her truthfulness. But one revelation was truly surprising... "Why do you keep coming back?" he asked. "If others possess this trait, you can do better..."

"Uh uh!" Charlotte had argued. "Sweetheart, I've had football teams -- and NOBODY keeps up with me like YOU do!"

If Hubert had any doubts about Charlotte's answers that night, the roller-coaster ride he got from her for the next week cleared them out. Charlotte was by turns hurt and disgusted at him over the betrayal, angry and disgusted with herself over letting herself be lulled into dangerous admissions, scared shitless that Hubert would brag to his frat buddies and ruin her, scared that he might use her, fearful that she might lose him. He'd call her and she'd yell at him, then she'd call him and beg... Hubert would have been a fool not to realize that he had a major lever on his babe -- and while he wasn't the quickest horse out of the gate in the intelligence race, he was no fool. Sufficient arm-twisting revealed Charlotte's entire closet full of skeletons -- but it also left Hubert confident that he understood his trophy girlfriend's motives in staying with him. At that point, the whirlpool of marriage slowly sucked them in... NOT without a pre-nup, however!

That proved to be an obstacle, in the long run; Charlotte was more worldly, more innovative, and ultimately smarter than Hubert, who had the sense to grant her more and more control of the family interests as time went on. Now, he was mostly a figurehead around the company business, and he liked it that way -- it left plenty of time for golf and hobnobbing with country club pals that netted an occasional nugget his canny wife could turn into additional income.

Two years after they were married, there was a birth control slip-up and Claudette was conceived. Charlotte carried her, happily looking forward to motherhood -- but discovered that she was totally inept at it. Children got on her nerves and distracted her from the things she loved -- and were just generally a nuisance. Add the fact that Charlotte had finally wormed out of her mother that her problem went back several generations in various strengths and guises and undoubtedly would be passed to her daughter, and the reasons that Charlotte became adamant that she get her tubes tied, even without producing a male heir, were obvious. Hubert acquiesced; given that having one child made Charlotte act like a troll, he certainly didn't want to add to the load...

In general, though, the marriage was rock-solid. Charlotte was generally faithful; occasional slip-ups due to what Hubert referred to as her 'infirmity' were overlooked, as a little outside sex had no effect on their basic relationship. They even 'entertained' periodically, hosting swap parties with a tightly select group of friends and associates of proven discretion. Claudette knew nothing of her parents' sex life -- which is not unusual, if you think about it. A deliberate effort to minimize her exposure to sex was undertaken at an early age, reinforced by training in genteel manners and social conventions from a bygone age, reinforced by various nannies and companions. Charlotte and Hubert's rooms were on the opposite side of the house from Claudette's, and meticulously soundproofed. Entertaining was done in even more secure locations.

Tonight, however, much of this activity had come to an end. There would be no protecting Claudette from sex, now; the best they could hope for would be to keep her from ruining her reputation. Fortunately, the rules of behavior drilled into her would stand her in good stead, here. The other issues -- masturbation and a now serious requirement for steady sex -- required closer supervision than Charlotte could possibly supply. Thank God for this Ted! He had already proven to Charlotte that he had the balls to keep Claudette in line; properly supported, he might be able to keep her out of anything major in the way of a scandal. Who knew?

Ted had been the up-side of Charlottes briefing to Hubert; they'd been congratulating themselves on getting this far for months, so the collapse of the house of cards was a blow. Once wide-awake and briefed, however, Hubert provided Charlotte with the emotional stability required to calmly discuss her situation with her daughter and move things on to the next level -- then he had fucked both their brains out, leaving them both more relaxed about the whole thing...

The morning would bring answers to the most important questions; for now, it was time to get some rest... Charlotte drifted off, smiling.

The fucking bed was moving -- AGAIN! Talking, too! Ed struggled toward full consciousness to a soft voice murmuring his name in his ear. His initial inclination to be cranky had the juice drained out of it when a pair of soft lips latched onto his neck. "Jesus! WhattheHell time is it?"

"Bout fahve."

"An' you're wakin' me up outta a sound sleep -- why?"

"Ah gotta git up soon, but Ah wuz hopin'..."

"Damn, Woman! You want dick at five in the fuckin' mornin'?"

"Well, yah..."

"I created a fuckin' monster..." Ed lurched up and rolled off Velma and onto his back. "Now, ya drained the motherfucker 'bout five hours ago, an' I ain't a mornin' person. I dunno..."

"Mebbe if Ah... sucked on it?"

"Well, maybe..." The bed started moving, prompting Ed to think, 'Goddamn woman is an elephant... ', then a hand swept along his flank and closed on his cock.

"Can y'all scoot ovah a bit? Ah gots ta get mah laigs turned aroun'..."

"Yah." Ed lurched over. There was more motion, then a big soft thing settled against his side just above his right hip and another just below. 'Titties, ' Ed guessed, just before soft lips enveloped his still limp meat. "Aaaahhhh!"

The lips lifted away. "Dat okay, Honey?"

"Yah," Ed grunted. "You do that fer a while, an' I'll get stiff, eventually." Shit, he was already growing...

"Mmmmph." Bitch had a big soft tongue, too! If this shit wasn't so embarrassing... Ed worked his arm into the crease between Velma's husky mammary and the roll of fat beneath, then wormed it around, questing for the fat nipple he knew to be there. It wasn't THAT hard to find -- and Velma went "Mmmph!" again, when he started working it between his fingers.

It took Ed about ninety seconds to get an erection resembling an iron bar. "Awright, I'm up! One a these days, you're gonna finish that an' swallow my stuff, by God! You got real talent!"

"Dat's okay, Honey, y'all kin have dat any ol' day -- long as y'all got enough left ovah fo' mah cooze!" Velma replied.

"Awright." Here he was, wrestling with a black woman in the pitch dark -- but Velma hated having him see her naked... There were no windows in her rooms and the alarm clock wasn't exactly a beacon. Ed got up. "Settle yourself -- I'll get ya from behind..." More movement in the dimness, while Ed mused to himself, 'I'm gonna get that ass, too!' When she appeared to be settled, he crawled back onto the bed from the foot and went about setting up for some doggy-style.

"Hurrgh! Shit, dat's SOOO good!" Velma moaned as he sank into her. "Uuuummmmm, make mah cooze happy!"

The tone of her voice was enough, actually. Ed couldn't ever remember fucking a happier bitch. It certainly fluffed the ego to know your efforts were appreciated... He anchored himself, grabbed two handfuls of heavy hip, put the trip-hammer on twice per second, and took off.

Velma held still for a little bit, then she started throwing herself back to get that little bit extra. "Ooohhhh, Lawd, Ahm in Heaven!"

"Yer noisy enough," Ed puffed, grinning to himself.

"Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee, fook, fook, fook!" Velma wailed. "AWWWWWWW, HUUUUUUUUHHHH!!! HUNGH! HUNGH! HUNGH!!!" She locked down and stopped moving on the outside, but her twat made like a wringer! Ed gritted his teeth and plowed on...

Ed managed ten minutes of long-stroking and two more sets of happy squeals from Velma before the sap level in his root reached critical, "Awright, ya silly bitch -- don't go nowhere, I'm gonna shoot!"

"Ah be heah, Honey! Put it wheah it belongs! Cum in mah cooze!" Velma hollered. Ed took a couple of short strokes to max out the sensation around the base of his cock head, then, guaranteed a nut, he jammed away a half dozen times, buried himself, and started pouring out spunk. It was just fucking great, and that twat-clutching shit Velma did while he shot off made it that much better...

'That twat-clutching shit' was Velma getting another orgasm, purely from the effects of Ed's final effort and the knowledge that she was taking his seed! They say that sex is largely mental -- something that goes double for the female; Velma was doing THE THING that made her happiest in the world -- sucking in her man's seed -- and she was flying high from the effects! It wasn't the hot blast of sensation that came while he was pounding her; this was more like sinking into a warm bath of satisfaction -- different, but every bit as good!

"Awright, I hope that's good enough, 'cause that's all I got for now!" Ed wheezed, backing off.

"Dat's real fine, Honey!" Velma affirmed, shifting herself off the bed. "Jus' what Ah needed! Y'all lay down now, an' Ah'll bring ya'll some coffee 'bout six. How's dat?"

"Make it six-thirty," Ed groaned. Damn woman was gonna kill him -- but at least he'd die in the saddle! He collapsed on the bed with an arm across his eyes -- sooner or later, she'd have to turn on a light to dress...

Velma headed off to shower, humming. There was goo running down one leg, but it wouldn't hit her ankle any time soon. She smiled; Ed sure dumped a load! This was a LOT better than playing with herself in the shower!

Ed didn't have to deal with anything more disturbing than the light under the bathroom door; Velma had a habit of laying out her uniforms on the counter in the bathroom the night before. His next interruption was warm lips on his neck, "Ah'm goin' now..."

"Mmmph." Ed was wasted; intelligent response was beyond him. But a hand came up, listless, and rubbed her neck. Velma left the room, humming to herself.

People started straggling into the kitchen of the Wilson mansion at about seven-thirty, to find Velma working smoothly, humming, surrounded by stacks of this and that. Phillippe arrived first, and eyed Velma suspiciously while she efficiently saw to his needs. Boris and Leticia were next; Boris had required Leticia to bathe him again, and then allowed her to dress in her normal uniform -- but he had followed her to her room and sat watching the entire procedure as she readied herself for the day, obviously enjoying the view. Now, as he settled at the kitchen table, he asked, "Where is Ed? We have..."

"He's in bed," Velma interrupted. "He was up late." Her eyes twinkled. "And he was up early, too!" Phillippe, who wouldn't fuck Velma with Boris's dick, shook his head, grinning. "Ah'll go git him in a bit," Velma added, driving home the point.

Boris wasn't missing anything; he compared Velma and Leticia with his eyes and decided that, skinny or not, the Little One was a closer fit to his requirements -- but to each his own... "Soon, then."

"I can pop up and run down to his room..." Phillippe offered.

Velma pinned him to his seat with a glare, "He ain't there." Phillippe, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing.

Charles, from the doorway, asked, "So, Velma, you gave Ed the day off?"

"No, Suh. But lahk Ah said, he was already up dis mornin', early... Ah'll go git him." Velma handed off responsibility for kitchen operations with a glance at Inez, poured a cup of coffee, and headed for the door. Charles stepped back so she could clear the door and eyed her, amused, as she headed off down the hall.

"So, you're telling me that Ed is fucking that?" Phillippe wanted to know.

Boris shrugged. "It is all -- how you say? -- pink on the inside."

Charles nodded. "There is the matter of their relative ages, too. Ed probably has fifteen years on Velma."

"Yeah, but she's..." Phillippe held his hands out to his sides and puffed out his cheeks in a parody of Velma's proportions.

"... And therefore all the more grateful for an opportunity to be properly serviced, " Armand's voice sounded over the intercom. "I'm afraid that I may have put ideas in Ed's head upon discovering that both of them were somewhat short on sources of gratification."

"Sorry, Boss." Phillippe mumbled.

"Don't apologize to me," Armand replied. "Have pity for the less fortunate. You are fully capable of luring unsuspecting females into your clutches, I'm told." His voice became more brisk, "Who is running things down there?"

"I am, Lord," Inez replied.

"Family breakfast at nine o'clock -- I'll have my usual. Lay out places for Sharon and Nora and Nate. Somebody put a call in to the younger generation. And send a tray down to Pete's room."

"My lord, Pete doesn't eat breakfast," Inez essayed.

"Bianca does," Armand replied. The intercom shut off, but the cameras didn't. Armand got to enjoy the look on Inez's face.

Soft lips at his neck -- Ed awoke to chills. "Ed, Honey, time fo' y'all to get up..."

"Lemme get another five..." he mumbled.

"Ah already did," Velma replied, "it's almos' eight."

Ed came fully alert; his internal clock agreed that it was AT LEAST well beyond any six-thirty. "Jeez, why didya do that?"

"Y'all needed it," Velma replied breezily. "Dere's coffee on da table -- I gotta get back..." She swept out.

Grumbling, Ed climbed into his clothes and set out for his room and a quick shower, slurping his coffee. Twenty minutes later, he made it to the kitchen, drawing another cup of coffee and plopping down at the table.

Boris ignored the issue of his late arrival, drawing Ed immediately into a conversation regarding some lattice replacements in the garden, but the minute things were silent, Phillippe set the needle, "So, Ed, you wanna tell us all about your new girlfriend? Chasing pussy wear you out?"

Ed glared at Phillippe for a moment. Velma, who was behind Phillippe, had turned around and looked like she could cheerfully murder him; when she picked up Ed's glance, her expression changed to one of anxiety. Ed grimaced, considered a moment, and replied, "CATCHIN' pussy kinda saps your energy a bit, I guess. I notice you're pretty bouncy this mornin'..."

Phillippe's mouth flopped open for a moment, then her recovered -- or he thought he did. "Catching THAT couldn't have been any too difficult..."

Ed shifted his glance to Velma again; Phillippe was 'WAY too confident, for someone with his back to a 320 pound woman with access to a room full of knives... He grinned into his coffee cup, "I ain't seen any evidence YOU could..."

"Why the fuck would I want to fuck a cow? I ain't a vet..."

CLOP! Phillippe went sideways out of his seat and onto the floor! "Ah hope y'all get AIDS from onea dem scumbuckets y'all drag in, ya asshole!" Velma screeched. "Ah might be big, but Ah ain't nasty!"

"Velma," Ed said quietly, "Y'all think you could make me an omelet? I think maybe Phillippe understands that it ain't polite to talk about a person like they was a dog in their presence, now..."

Velma stood a moment over Phillippe, clenching and unclenching her hands, then mumbled, "Yeah. Whatchew want in it, Hon?"

"Onion and mushrooms, I guess. And cheese." Ed got up and poured himself more coffee, then stood over Phillippe, ruminating. "Bein' I got ta face the music, I might as well at least hum a note. Fer your fuckin' info, it's prime shit -- an' I DON'T haveta worry about getting' crabs -- or worse -- from it! An' there don' seem ta be any doubt that she treats me better before, durin', and after than some 'a them skanks I seen you drag in!"

"Muffler burns, maybe," Charles observed, grinning. He had deliberately not interfered, to date.

"What?" Ed looked up, glaring.

"You've got a pretty serious hickey, there, on the right side of your neck..."

Ed whirled on Velma. "Dammit!"

"Ah'm sorry, Hon -- Ah got carried away!"

"I'd love to see THAT!" Phillippe observed from his seat on the floor, rubbing the side of his head.

Ed shifted his attention back to Phillippe. "You got ANY sense?" Phillippe shrugged. Ed rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, awright? You're just jealous. I don't hafta know algebra to know how many dicks been in MY woman's twat -- can YOU say that? Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." He turned and deliberately made his way back to his seat.

Moments later, Velma sidled up with his plate, putting it down before him and whispering, "Ah'm yo' woman?"

"Till I say different," Ed grunted. "Don't get all moon-eyed..."

"No, a' course not..." Velma replied, and moved off to the sink to do dishes -- and cry a bit...

It was seven fifty five at the Hansen home. Dwayne was out the front door, rolling -- it was time to get clear, before the folks started looking around...

... Only it didn't work. "Son?" Dwayne, halfway into his pickup looked up to see his father standing on the porch.

"Pop?"

"Where you going?"

'Do I lie, or just stretch the truth?' "I'm going to help out a friend."

"Girl, huh?"

Dwayne frowned. "Huh?" 'How 'd he do that?'

"You took too long thinking about it."

"Okay." Dwayne admitted it.

"So, homework?" This time, his reluctance to lie was Dwayne's undoing. "Biology, huh?" his father asked before he could nerve himself.

"Yeah."

"Advanced biology?"

They were on dangerous ground. "Maybe. Dunno yet."