Victory Tour
Copyright© 2023 by Alured de Valer
Chapter 63: Sunday, Oct. 14
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 63: Sunday, Oct. 14 - The continuing adventures of Gary Robinson and the gang from Best Summer Ever. How will our hero handle juggling playing football, his growing number of girlfriends and his senior year of high school? Let's find out! I'll try to post every Saturday, but don't hold me to that.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual Fiction School Sports Incest Brother Sister DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Spanking Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Oriental Female Hispanic Female Anal Sex First Massage Oral Sex Pregnancy Safe Sex Squirting
I came awake slowly, the sound and scent of frying bacon forcing its way into my consciousness.
It took a second to realize I still wore the clothes I’d had on when I took Morgan home last night. Another second proved I was alone in bed.
The reason for that became apparent when Marie, wearing a housedress and her choker, stepped out of the kitchen to check on me.
“You need to get up, Daddy,” my pet said. “It’s almost 8. Breakfast is almost ready. Hurry up and shower. I’m tired of smelling Morgan on you. I thought you weren’t going to do anything last night.”
She was most definitely a morning person who believed a big breakfast was the only way to start the day. I sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting to,” I said, “but Morgan had other ideas. I’ll tell you all about it after I shower.”
As I stood up, I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes. I guess Marie had taken them off for me after I passed out last night. I stripped and tossed my clothes in the hamper while Marie went to check on breakfast. Grabbing a pair of boxers out of the dresser, I staggered to the bathroom.
The shower helped me edge closer to functionality. I was at least aware enough to scrub with soap. That ought to eliminate any trace of last night’s activities with Morgan.
Marie had a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of pineapple juice on the table when I came out. I took the time to dress in another pair of shorts and a T-shirt before taking my seat.
“So, what happened last night?” Marie asked as she settled in with her coffee.
I swallowed a forkful of eggs and sighed before launching into the story of the incident at Morton’s.
“Daddy!” Marie nearly shrieked when I got to the part with the gun. “You could have been seriously hurt! Or worse!”
I suddenly had a lapful of frantic little waif checking to make sure I was unscathed. Again, the incident was more traumatic for her than it had been for me.
“How did you get your head scratched up?” she demanded.
“I’m fine, baby,” I assured her. “One of the security guys had me on the ground before I even knew what was happening. I must have rubbed the pavement when he took me down.”
“Is that what happened to your blazer?” she asked.
“Not that I noticed at the time,” I said. “That was more Morgan pulling me down and telling me not to ever scare her like that again. Just before she forced herself on me.”
“I’ll get you some salve for those abrasions,” she said. “They should heal quickly, but we’ll need to tell the makeup folks at the agency tomorrow. I’ll be right back. You finish your breakfast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, trying to fight off a grin.
I scarfed down my food as she bustled off, wondering just how the other girls were going to react once they heard the news. I barely had time to put my dishes in the sink before Marie returned with a little tube of ointment, ordering me to sit so she could tend to my “wounds.”
“It’s a good thing they’re not very deep,” she said as she dabbed goop around my left eyebrow. “Not much more than if you’d exfoliated. Armand really wants you for this shoot. They’re doing sportswear and he’s pumped to have someone who actually does sports.”
Not very well, I thought, but I figured I could fake it for the cameras at least as well as I faked it in real life.
Satisfied with her work, my submissive bitch brushed my hair about to make sure it wouldn’t stick to any scabs. As short as it still was, I didn’t think that was even a possibility.
“You do need to have the sides and back touched up,” she said, like Morgan hadn’t mentioned the need just yesterday in her presence.
Marie didn’t seem inclined to exit my lap any time soon, not that it really mattered. I didn’t have anything planned for the day other than watching football, and the local team had the late-afternoon slot this week. Since it was just past 8:30, there was no hurry.
I guess I could have done some of the reading for Western Civ or maybe gotten started on the Creative Writing assignment. But I had all week to get to those and a pretty girl in my lap right now. I deserved a break. I was perfectly content to swap little smooches, maybe grope certain body parts, as I let my breakfast settle.
Not that I hadn’t been thinking about the writing assignment. I figured I could use some of the craziness in my life for inspiration. It ought to be good for something.
What I’d come up with so far was loosely based on those old adventure serials like “The Perils of Pauline,” “The Hazards of Helen” and “The Exploits of Elaine” that had been popular back during the days leading up to World War I more than a century ago. The big difference was instead of a damsel in distress, the main character — Donald (Donnie) Darkner — was a teenage boy. I was thinking of calling it “The Dangerous Days of Donnie Darkner.” There was just something about alliteration that appealed to me.
Donnie was a likable enough guy, considerate, respectful, always trying to do the right thing but not exactly a Boy Scout. The one problem was he was always getting kidnapped by various villainous elements in an effort to get his mega-wealthy family to pay an exorbitant ransom that would fund the lifestyle to which they wished to become accustomed. Like, once a year at least since he was 12 or so.
To prevent such shenanigans, Donnie’s mega-wealthy family had shunted him off to an isolated island monarchy ruled over by the beautiful Queen A, a stunning redheaded goddess who may or may not have had her own designs on our hero. It seems there was a succession crisis brewing because she was past 30 and still childless. Queenie, as she insisted on being called, and her top minister — Lady J, a luscious blonde goddess — were also the patrons of an elite, exclusive boarding school for young ladies based on the island.
I mean, who would ever think of looking to kidnap some dude in an all-girls school?
The school’s headmistress was a petite woman whose answer to every situation was to defer to Queenie or Lady J, who seemed to have a lot of free time to hang around the place considering they had a country to rule. The headmistress was constantly attended by her waiflike assistant, who rarely spoke.
All of the students were beautiful, well-funded and socially connected. There was the brainy little brunette elf who served as student body president, the honey-blonde social butterfly who played flute and always won key roles in school plays, the little blonde who bore a striking resemblance to Lady J, the brunette heiress who was surprisingly down to earth. Then several hundred others poor Donnie had trouble keeping straight.
The only other male on campus was the imposing Earl of Dunsmore, who was in charge of discipline and physical education and may or may not have something going on with the headmistress. His idea of PE was teaching hand-to-hand combat techniques, basically mixed martial arts, along with buttloads of conditioning via long, grueling runs. His idea of discipline included lots of corporal punishment. Usually on bare bums. It was his job to keep Donnie so exhausted the poor guy wouldn’t notice all the feminine pulchritude surrounding them.
That, of course, wouldn’t keep the feminine pulchritude from trying to get closer with our hero, who still kept getting kidnapped. He always seemed to wind up chained and blindfolded in smokey dungeons with his shirt ripped open, if not totally removed, to expose a surprisingly toned, chiseled torso and six-pack abs. It seems every busty villainess — and they were always busty villainesses, never villains — had a kink for oiling him up before having their wicked way with the poor guy, who vowed to wait for true love before surrendering his chastity.
But just before the unspeakable could occur and our hero be despoiled, Queenie’s secret unit of crack commandos — perfectly coiffed and stylishly clad, of course — would come to the rescue. It took a couple of rescues for Donnie to realize the rescuers were all female. And seemed vaguely familiar. He couldn’t be sure, though, because they all wore domino masks with their increasingly skimpy outfits. But some of the boobs that were accidentally rubbed against his oily torso felt like some he’d encountered on the occasions Dunsmore allowed him to spar with other students.
Such situations wouldn’t have been so bad had the commandos not constantly bickered about whose turn it was to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to him each time. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t even been rendered unconscious. He’d been told to shut up and take it like a man more than once.
He found it odd that the resuscitation efforts, which always had to be conducted before he could be freed of his chains, came so close to making him pass out. The physical examinations to assure all concerned that he was still in working order that followed were even worse. Not only were his tattered shirts removed, if they were even still hanging on him, he always seemed to lose his pants right about then, leaving him in just his skivvies and mortally embarrassed.
It wasn’t all gloom and doom, though. Donnie would have frequent warm reunions with his doting parents and grandparents, who also seemed to be patrons of the school — a couple of his cousins were in the pipeline to enroll once they were old enough. His mother and grandmother were curious about the fact that the only way to reach his private apartment was to travel through Queenie’s private on-campus chambers, which she preferred to that drafty old palace. The explanation was that it was a precaution designed to keep our hero safe from predatory types. Who still seemed to get to him on a frequent basis.
Parents of some of the regular students, like the dentist with the creepy smile and the financial wizard who could convey menace with a glance, would also float in and out of the storyline.
All in all, Donnie had a pretty good setup. He was housed, fed, educated and exercised in a safe, secure environment. Except, ya know, for the constant kidnappings.
I felt I had a pretty good start, now I just needed to come up with enough scenarios to get me to 5,000 words. Let’s see, there’d be the militant feminists, who’d kidnap Donnie as a blow against the patriarchy his grandfather represented only to act like giggly schoolgirls after his shirt got ripped. Then there’d be leader of the rival faction within the country, who claimed Queenie’s great-great-grandmother had usurped the throne from the rightful heiress, who just happened to be the great-great-grandmother of the faction leader. She also acted like a giggly schoolgirl when alone with her captive.
Then there would be all the attention from actual giggly schoolgirls. Donnie was convinced his lab partner, a leggy Amazon, was trying to incapacitate him with chloroform or something. And several girls were awfully handsy during hand-to-hand practice. That started after the brainy elf appointed herself his personal tutor, always trying to lure him deeper into the stacks at the library. Even the headmistress’ waiflike assistant appointed herself as his personal maid/cook/housekeeper/bedwarmer. Queenie considered it another deterrent to students trying to sneak some unauthorized alone time with him.
I don’t know how long Marie and I cuddled there as I worked out some plot points, but I had to remove my mouth from a nipple when my phone started ringing. My own personal maid/cook/housekeeper/bedwarmer was rather flushed as I reluctantly eased her off my lap to go get my phone, which was on the nightstand from the sound of things. I wondered if famous writers like Hemingway or Faulkner ever worked on story ideas by sucking a perky tit.
I managed to get to the phone in time. It was Grandpa’s number. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought something had happened to Grandma and/or Aunt Karen.
“Yes, sir,” I answered quickly, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
“Well, you are awake,” my grandfather said rather jovially, helping calm my mind a bit. “I was afraid you might still be gettin’ over last night.”
“No, sir,” I said, wondering how much he knew about last night. “Just relaxing a little after breakfast.”
“Uh huh,” my grandfather grunted, sounding like he had a pretty good idea of my preferred method of relaxation. “Listen, I wanted to see if you had any plans for this afternoon.”
“Just some reading for school,” I said, not exactly lying. “I need to get that out of the way so I can watch the game.”
“Sounds like you’ll be available to watch the game with me, then,” he said. “You still have your sister’s wagon?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering what that had to do with things.
“Good. We’ll be by around noonish,” Grandpa said. “Make sure it’s gassed up.”
“I take it we won’t be watching the game at Mr. Patterson’s, then,” I said, trying to figure out just what my grandfather had planned. “Is there a dress code?”
“What you’d normally wear out in public for a Sunday in mid-October,” he said. “Your school clothes will do. It wouldn’t hurt to bring a light jacket.”
“Do I need to eat lunch here?” I asked, still fishing for more info.
“We’ll find somethin’ somewhere,” he said noncommittally. “You won’t go hungry.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, figuring Grandpa would let me in on things when he was ready. “I’d better change clothes, then. I’ll need to hit an ATM when I go fuel up.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’d better let ya get to it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “See you noonish.”
I disconnected and turned to almost run over Marie, who still had her boobs hanging out of her unbuttoned housedress.
“That didn’t sound too bad,” she said, leaning even closer as if she was ready to resume our little petting session.
“My grandfather wants me to watch the NFL game with him,” I explained as a palm just naturally cupped a naked titty all on its own. “Sounds like there will be people with him. He told me to make sure Kacie’s ‘wagon’ is fueled up. He said they’d be here around noon, so I’ve still got a couple of hours before I need to get ready.”
“Whatever will we do until then?” Marie asked all wide-eyed as she pushed me to sit on the bed and crawled back in my lap.
“I bet we can think of something,” I smirked before getting the other nipple in my mouth.
Donnie Darkner could wait a little longer. I needed to see what kind of ideas this tit could generate.
The first idea to come to me was to completely unbutton the housedress, revealing Marie was steadfastly adhering to the apartment dress code. That, of course, required a digital examination to make sure my pet was still in working order. Her period was due in the next few days and she’d be out of commission next weekend.
I pretty much quit thinking after that and tried to make sure the squirming girl in my lap at least got a little fun out of the deal. She hadn’t been too upset that I’d fallen off the wagon last night with Morgan, but was willing to wait for the rest of the test results so she could take me without a condom. The little waif wanted me shooting live ammo with no restrictions.
After making her squeal and shudder a couple of times, I laid her out on the bed and got my face between her thighs. Morgan had been in too much of a hurry last night to let me have a snack. Marie was a willing recipient in her stead. I must have been doing something for her based on the way she gripped me by the head and clamped her thighs against my ears.
“Daaa-deee!” she wailed as a good one ripped through her before she went limp.
At first, I was afraid I’d caused her to pass out. I’d never done that before. Then she moaned fairly loudly when another tremor swept through her legs as I continued to place soft kisses on her flesh.
“God, Daddy, if you could get me pregnant with your tongue, I’d let your other girls have more time with your dick,” she gasped, chest heaving for air. “Still not as good as a girl, but definitely the best I’ve had from a guy.”
I might have let that inflate my opinion of my abilities, but I reminded myself Marie hadn’t been with that many men before I entered her life. And I had no problem with that. The fact she’d been with more girls than I had just meant she’d experienced a wider range of abilities.
A look at the clock-radio showed it was almost 10. A check of my phone showed Grandpa had called a little after 9. As close as I could figure, Marie had let me munch on her muff for at least 15 minutes. No wonder my neck and tongue were feeling sore. I rarely got anywhere close to 10 minutes with the high school girls before they pushed me away. Arlene, who’d been the one to make sure I knew how to eat pussy in the first place, was my only other lover who could take it for as long as Marie had.
I groaned as I rose to my feet.
“I’d better go wash up,” I said. “My grandfather might not want to know just how I was relaxing this morning.”
“You can relax like that with me anytime you want, Daddy,” Marie said dreamily.
I helped her get situated lengthwise on the bed and pulled the halves of her dress together, covering her nakedness. I didn’t need the temptation to fuck her, even with a condom handy. A sweet kiss lingered a little longer than it should have before I was able to tear myself away and go clean up.
While my face was the only part of me that really needed washing, it was just easier to go ahead and take another shower. That allowed me to shampoo my hair just in case and take care of another issue that had arisen. Those test results needed to hurry the fuck up. This was getting to be more than I could stand.
I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair, but decided I could get by without shaving. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since my last shave, anyway.
Clad in just my boxers, I exited the bathroom to find Marie dozing peacefully. She’d rolled onto her side, causing the dress to leave her little boobies uncovered again. I let her sleep as I grabbed a pair of khakis and a polo. My deck shoes would be good enough even if we might be out until dark or later. And I still had the black pullover fleece Kacie had brought me yesterday. That should be enough to get me through the afternoon.
Grabbing a pair of socks out of the dresser, I stepped to the chair in the dinning nook I’d been sitting in before Grandpa called and covered my feet. I made sure I had wallet, keys, phone, pecked Marie on top of her head, grabbed a cap and took care to open the door as quietly as I could. Kacie’s Rover was right where it was supposed to be, meaning my Beemer could anywhere within about 500 miles if she had decided to go for a ride. The one hope I had against that was my little sister probably wouldn’t have chanced missing her curfew to do so.
There was actually more than a quarter tank when I cranked up, meaning Kacie either drove very little in the past week or had actually put in a few gallons on her on dime. Both possibilities were extremely unlikely, and there had been Thursday’s excursion with Elise.
The situation led me to head out to one of the truck stops on the freeway to fill up. Gas was usually a nickel or so a gallon cheaper out there and the layout made it easier to open all the doors and search for trash. Kacie was known to leave soda bottles in the floorboard and I found more than one. Along with some candy wrappers. She needed to learn to keep a little trash bag in her vehicle.
With a full tank and clean windows, I headed for the nearest branch of my bank to get some cash. I wasn’t taking any chances. Grandpa liked to make me pay my own way. He knew I could afford it now.
It was just a little after 11 when I pulled into Arlene’s driveway. I had about an hour before I expected Grandpa to show up. With nothing better to do, I headed for the apartment to get started on the Kalmar Union and the Hanseatic League.
I spent my time reading what Mrs. Edwards had “suggested” for our return to class. I’d look through Aunt Karen’s websites for additional information later. My teacher had given us enough to stay busy for a couple of days, anyway. Didn’t these people realize I was supposed to be on a break from school?
It was almost 12:30 when someone banged on the door and Jed stuck his head in.
“Ready, dude?” he asked excitedly as he stepped into the room.
“Just about,” I replied, shutting things down. “Let me get some cover. My grandfather said to take a jacket.”
My buddy stepped in and went to the TV. He was all decked out in gear from the NFL team.
“I sincerely hope we aren’t watching the game here,” I said as Jed grabbed the remote and began pushing buttons. “This place won’t hold too many folks.”
“Nah, dude,” he said as he flipped through the channel guide. “I just want to set up the DVR to record the replay. We probably won’t get back until after it starts and I want to watch all of it.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The game, dude!” Jed said excitedly. “Dad said we’ve got a suite!”
Well, that beat the hell out of what I’d planned for the afternoon.
“Let’s go, then,” I said, pulling the fleece on. “We’ve only got, what, three hours to kickoff!”
I took a moment to scribble a note for Marie saying it would be after 7 before we returned and send her a text with the same info as Jed finished programming things to record our game against the Bears. I was glad he understood how. I didn’t even know I had DVR service here.
We headed out and Jed claimed the shotgun seat in the Rover.
“Where to?” I asked as I began backing down the drive.
“The Pattersons,” Jed said. “The dads are waitin’ on us there.”
I drove the few blocks over to the home of the rich and powerful man to find Grandpa’s Cadillac and Mr. Richards’ car in the front drive, forcing me to park in the street. When Jed said the dads, I didn’t realize he meant Dad, Grandpa, George Patterson, Bill Richards and Frank Ensberry. We were going to fill every seat in the Rover.
We didn’t even make it to the door when our travel party boiled out. You’d have thought I was taking the girls shopping the way they chattered about our excursion.
It took a few minutes to figure out the seating arrangement. I would have expected Grandpa to claim shotgun, but it was decided to leave Jed there because of his bulk. Dad and Dr. Ensberry squeezed into the back with the other three men in the middle. It was definitely more crowded than when I took the girls to the mall last weekend.
Before we loaded, Grandpa reached in to hang a parking pass on the rearview.
“Make sure we have that when we get to the stadium,” he said, “unless you want to pay for parking.”
Since that would take most of my available cash, I swore I’d protect it with my life.
It took a few minutes to make our way out to the freeway and head toward the city. I took the loop toward the western suburbs and the stadium. Grandpa waited until we were almost there before deciding we had time to swing through a barbecue joint to get sandwiches for all of us. That would be enough to hold us until we were in our seats and had access to more snackage. And Grandpa was paying. He would probably make it back with the next skin he took off his golf partners.
The traffic flowed surprisingly smoothly for a game day and I was being directed toward reserved parking by 2 o’clock. I could only imagine what a madhouse this place would be in another hour. Good thing Grandpa was a fan of arriving early to beat the traffic.
Our party disembarked with Dad making sure of which lot we were in. Mr. Patterson made a show of distributing tickets to each of us. I just needed to hold onto mine until I was safely inside.
It took a bit to go through stadium security, but none of us had bags that needed searching. There was another wait at a bank of elevators to take us to our level. I wondered how much time stadium workers spent each game explaining how to get where folks wanted to go, but the guy who helped us at least could act like he enjoyed doing so.
It wasn’t even close to 3 o’clock as we stepped into our suite, which Mr. Patterson had used his connections to secure. We weren’t the only party to use the place today and I was curious to see how much business would be transacted over the next few hours.
I should have been more concerned about the interrogation I was about to undergo.
“So, what happened on your date last night?” Dad asked as he and the other men settled around me with fancy glasses of amber liquid. “The security report was rather vague.”
Hey, at least it wasn’t Mom asking the questions. There was a small chance I might get out of this alive.
“Some fellow didn’t like that a girl he’d dated was out with us,” I said. “He didn’t seem to get the fact she was with Marshawn, not me. He and a couple of his buddies followed us to Morton’s. I drove Arlene’s car and they apparently thought they’d smash it up to get back at me.”
“The only Jags I want to see smashed up are the ones we’re playin’ today,” Jed snarked.
“What about the gun?” Grandpa asked, causing Jed to perk up.
“I didn’t know anything about it until the security detail acted,” I said. “I was on the ground before I knew what was happening. The security people had things under control.”
“Was my daughter in danger?” Dr. Ensberry asked with a worried expression.
“Not that I could tell, sir,” I said. “She was behind me and there were several security people around us. Like I said, they knew what they were doing and had control of the situation.”
“But a young man still got shot,” Mr. Patterson said.
“He was at least 50 feet away from us,” I said. “I don’t know what the guy with the gun was thinking, but from what I could tell, he may have been tased before he even pulled the trigger. The security people had us all protected. They would have taken the bullet, not one of us.”
“Well, that is what we pay ‘em for,” Grandpa sighed. “It helped that the punk just had a little popgun. But you need to be more careful.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, again wondering how the hell I was supposed to identify the loonies before they attacked.
“The young man with the gun pretty much assured himself of a long stint as the guest of the state,” Mr. Patterson said. “It seems he has more than a few priors and is out of high school. He’s an adult and will be prosecuted as such.”
“What about the other boys who’ve gone after Gary?” Dad asked.
“The Goldthwaite boy has been sent to alternative school,” Mr. Richards cut in. “He’d face real trouble if he tries anything else. His parents are already looking to leave town to get him out of the picture.”
“And our friend from Cedar Springs has become quite cooperative,” Mr. Patterson said with an evil grin. “I’m afraid it hasn’t kept his virtue intact, though. Seems he’s quite popular with certain inmates. His attorney has insisted on putting him under protection and is willing to cut a deal, but these things take time, you know.”
I can’t say that I was terribly upset at the thought of Billy Ray Harkrider getting his asshole hammered in the joint. He should have thought of that possibility before he decided to break the law.
“Where do we stand with the paparazzi?” I asked.
“Suits for libel and invasion of privacy have been filed on your behalf,” Grandpa said. “That includes any of your young ladies who may have been caught up in this mess. Our people say we can expect offers to settle by the end of the year. There’s too much evidence in our favor and too many witnesses to what that reporter’s done and said.”
“Things should improve soon,” Mr. Patterson said. “Morgan was right about the Ariana Grande news taking the heat off you. There hasn’t been anything about you since that broke. Lela’s publicist took advantage of the situation Friday to issue a statement denying any involvement with you. They claim the girl doesn’t even remember you from the Malibu shoot.”
That was no surprise. Why should she? I was just some guy who’d posed with her a couple of times.
The rich and powerful man had to take advantage of the chance to yank my chain. Again.
“Staci’s not real happy with you,” he smiled menacingly. “I’ve heard you’ve taken yourself out of action because of a recent dalliance. Care to explain?”
Not really, but I knew the chances of that were nonexistent.
“Ny’Quesha Taylor made her move on me last week,” I admitted. “I wasn’t her first. I figured the best course of action was to get checked and wait until the results come back.”
Whatever Dad was about to say was cut off by Grandpa.
“At least you were smart enough to do that,” my grandfather said. “I was afraid Dougie was gonna become immune to penicillin before he got out of high school.”
My father turned bright red as the rest of our party turned their attention to him.
“I didn’t realize that girl had gotten around as much as she had,” he muttered quietly. “And it was just the one time. I learned my lesson.”
“How long until you get results back?” Dr. Ensberry asked, missing a chance to grill me about what I may have done with his daughter last night.