Sex in the Sky

The final chapter.

“”Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies.”

Sorry about the delay, and what a delay it was! I would go into the reasons, but nobody really wants to hear excuses. So, please, enjoy this story, the ending to what I had only intended to be a one chapter delight and turned into a five chapter epic. Thank you for all of your support. You have no idea what it has meant to me.”

@>–,————

Tugging up the zipper of his jeans, Keith ran from the room barefoot, padding down the hall to the stairs. Whipping at his stomach and chest with his open jeans shirt that Mike left on him while he ravished him, Keith looked down towards the door wondering who it could be. Most people he knew were in class at the moment and none would be this insistent on trying to break down the door with their fist.

Gary enjoys time with friends & family as summer ends.

Sandy and Dan decided to hire someone to mow the field or large lawn or whatever it was. Then they would decide what to do with it - maintain it and keep it a selling point or subdivide it, if that was what they decided to do with the Keller Farm.

In the meantime, they wanted me to walk through the field and mark any structures or obstacles to make the job a little easier for whomever they hired to cut the overgrown grass. While I was doing that I noticed an opening in the tree line nearest to the farm house. When I finished marking everything that I could find that might damage a mower, and there were lots of them, I decided to check out the opening in the trees.

A Clint Folsom mystery: the prey is sighted.

The shadow by the stairway to the Helios deck of the MS River God drew back and sheathed the blade that had been held at the ready lest a moonbeam cast its damning light on dark intent.

Just moments to a death now.

The increased intensity of the groaning and moaning from the only occupied lounger on the rooftop deck of Rhine River luxury cruiser told of the impending death. The small figure was splayed on its back on the lounger, trembling legs spread wide, arms flailing, torso writhing, as the larger figure hunched over it, stabbing, stabbing, cutting deeper with each thrust, each thrust met with a tortured yelp and a moan.

Yet another team archaeologist finds the groove

Dr. Emory had called it a day at the tomb dig outside Sudan’s upper Nile Sulb Temple. It had been so hot that I had stripped down to a pair of cotton bush shorts for the afternoon. I was standing by the water buckets, ladling cool water over my head and letting it sluice down my body when I noticed Clint Winston, another of the archaeologists on the dig, and Dr. Emory’s personal assistant, eyeing me up and down. I registered that I’d have to be very careful with that one. If he had any inkling that I was having it on with the young Egyptian archaeologist, Mustafa, or with a strapping, very well endowed warrior of a local African tribe, he’d turn me in to Dr. Emory in an instant. And then I’d be flying home, my name erased from the archaeology team, just when we were close to opening the ancient Egyptian tomb.

Young archaeologist finds his secret was unnecessary.

Dr. Emory glowered silently at me all the next day while we were excavating around the tomb entrance at our ancient Egyptian burial site on the banks of the upper Nile in Sudan. And his precious young assistant, Clint Winston, couldn’t seem to look at me at all. No doubt Clint had gone straight to the archaeological team head and had revealed that I had taken him repeatedly on the altar of the nearby Subl Temple the previous night, just as he had wanted me to do, and that we both then had been assaulted—quite pleasantly, I might add—by the youths of the local Mitsagusi tribe. It would have been a miracle if Emory hadn’t heard the frenzied drums of the tribe as both Clint and I were being delightfully ravished—not for the first time—by this group of very capable Sudanese lads.