Chapter 1

Two months ago, Eric Kasten and his mother were just barely existing in a home terrorized by his angry, drunken father. The physical abuse had been steadily increasing to the point where Eric had several times stepped in to spare his diminutive mother blows. Not that he was much better able to stand the blows. At 15, he was only 5'7" and skinny, with no particular athletic talent.

Eric just could not stand to see his mother hit, and was willing to absorb the punishment himself. There wasn't much he could do about what went on in their bedroom, but he made a point to be near her elsewhere when his father was in a foul mood.

Sandra Kasten, now going by Sandie, was an educated professional with a management job. Abuse was totally unaware of social or economic status, and intelligence and education did not make it easier for a woman to abandon a marriage, even a badly soured one. She and Eric had talked about fleeing, but she was the larger breadwinner, and considered the house more hers than his.

Eric loved his mother dearly, though it was not obvious to an observer and he did not express it openly. He had learned to stifle his emotions, a trait that had helped diffuse several potentially dangerous confrontations with his father. Though naturally sensitive and expressive, he had of necessity adapted a stoic personna that threatened to become the real Eric.

Then one night, things got out of hand and Eric struck his father in his mother's defense, hastening the man into the unconscious state the booze had him destined for. That was the last straw, and they packed and left, ending up at the home of Dex Madison.

Dex was hosting several abused women from the shelter which was overflowing at Christmas. The two plus weeks at Dex's turned Eric's life around, very much for the better. There, he unleashed his sensitive side and provided critical support for his distraught mother. Then, he shared the hot tub naked with Kirstin, one of the abused women, indulging in sexual play for the first time. Next, he joined Dex as naked breakfast servers in an attempt to ease the fear of male genitals that most of the women carried. Later, he lost his virginity to his mother, then began the wonderful relationship with Morgan that was still going on.

As he walked the school hallway on his way from lunch to his next class, Eric thought of Morgan, and the date they had for that very night. At twenty-one, Morgan was way out of his league, but circumstances had thrown them together at Dex's and they each met a need in the other. They both knew long-term plans were unrealistic, but living in the here and now was terrific.

At Dex's, Morgan had dropped her faux lesbian image and had a torrid introduction to sex with Dex until yielding to Elise, now Mrs. Madison. Morgan had taken the leadership role in trying to help the women recover, and had been thoroughly impressed by Eric's concern for the women and his treatment of them. Having her libido unleashed, Morgan needed someone, and Eric was happy to fill the bill. She complimented him on being like a young Dex, and despite his frail build, the comparison held true surprisingly well in bed.

Eric's first intercourse was with his mother, at Dex's, at a time when Sandie's self-image threatened to disappear. Shortly afterward, Sandie met Harv, a principal in the firm providing security and transportation for Dex's big holiday bash. It was love at first sight, but Sandie had to be discreet because of divorce proceedings. Her only chances to be with Harv had been at group events at Dex's house. Back at home, her recent discovery of good sex made it impossible to stay out of Eric's bed, even though she wanted to be faithful to Harv.

Morgan had asked Sandie's permission before bedding her son, and having Eric and Morgan sleeping together in her home helped Sandie rationalize her own incestuous behavior. The three of them talked openly about the situation, and all understood that mother and son were fast approaching their last coupling.

Eric's musings were interrupted by a disturbance in the lightly-traveled hallway ahead. Eight or ten students gawked as a black guy in gang colors and heavy tatoos slapped a slim, attractive black girl, sending her reeling against the lockers. Two other black boys, obviously backup, stood close behind the first. They watched with seeming unconcern, but their presence seemed to guarantee that no passerby interfered.

As he came closer, Eric recognized the girl as a near-dropout, generally regarded as a street pro forced to attend school. Like the other onlookers, he had no desire to get mixed up in the situation. As he reached the group, fully intending to walk on past, he noticed blood trickling down the girl's face from a cut eyelid. Just then the boy hit her a solid blow to the stomach, doubling her over. She struggled to keep from falling, somehow succeeding amid a torrent of verbal abuse from the boy.

The experiences with his father and the stories he heard at Dex's were still at the front of Eric's mind. The greatest satisfaction in his young life, beyond even the great sex he was enjoying, was the feeling of helping his mother and the other abused women. Protection of women had become central to his manhood. It had caused him to grow up in the space of the Christmas holiday, and it had become his driving force.

Without conscious thought or planning, Eric stepped between the girl and her attacker. Moving quickly and instinctively, he pulled her upright and dragged her sideways, away from the startled youth. Fortunately, she was not heavy, and she was in no condition to offer any resistance to his efforts.

"Hey, man! Wachoo think yo' doin? Dis 'tween meen da bitch! She owe me! Get away fo' ah cap yo fo' messin wif her." Incongruously, Eric remembered thinking that no one really talked that way - it must be for show.

During the bad times with his father, when he knew he would be beaten, Eric had perfected a way of withdrawing into himself, ignoring danger or pain while still doing what was needed to protect his mother. Retreating to that same place, he now used every ounce of strength he had to propel the girl back down the hall toward the cafeteria, crowds, and, hopefully, safety.

He knew the boy was yelling at him, but he shut it out. He felt a hard, painful blow to his kidney, but he managed to stay upright and shut out the pain, too. Still aware enough to protect himself somewhat, he raised his arm to deflect another blow that hit the side of his face, opening a cut to match the girl's.

It had probably been less than fifteen seconds since he stepped in, and they had not moved far down the hall, given the girl's doubled-over condition. Fortunately, two teachers, a man and a woman, saw the commotion and came running toward them. Despite his anger, the attacker decided the fight was no longer worth it, and he and his backup retreated back the other way, attempting to look completely casual and triumphant.

The female teacher saw who the girl was, and an unmistakable look of disdain crossed her face. To her credit, however, she did move in to support the girl, realizing she was hurt. Besides representing safety, encountering the teachers reminded Eric that he could get in trouble for his good deed.

Memorial High was operating under the typical mindless zero tolerance policy that infected much of the public school system. Government education having largely failed in its attempts at any kind of individual handling of students, the focus was on equality and uniformity of treatment. Violence in school was undeniably a very bad thing, and efforts to eradicate it were sincere. The failure in logic occurred in not recognizing that violence would happen no matter what, and it arose from a myriad of causes.

The most extreme of the accused-rights advocates would never admit it openly, but their position is this: it is the victim's duty to be robbed, hurt, or killed and let the law take care of the accused afterward. They view self-defense or defense of loved ones or property as an unacceptable infringement on the rights of the accused - taking the law into ones own hands - appointing oneself judge, jury, and executioner - vigilantyeeism. Obviously, nothing could be worse than that.

As nearly any reader can conclude from the news, the zero tolerance policy seems to end up punishing students for ludicrous technical violations more often than it does for serious offenses. A bureaucracy tends to focus on the easiest problems first, often never getting to the important ones. Students, including Eric, understood this very well.

Eric believed himself to be fairly anonymous, and had the sudden urge to disappear. "She needs the nurse," he told the teachers, and kept on walking. There were restrooms on the other side of the cafeteria. Blood was starting to trickle down his neck and he felt some nausea building, both from the adrenalin backwash and the kidney punch. He made it to the restroom before the blood reached his shirt, and he managed to stifle the urge to hurl his lunch.

The bleeding staunched easily with cold water. Cursing the useless air dryers, he grabbed some toilet paper and spent a few minutes making sure the bleeding had stopped. He had been quite early for his next class, but had lost that cushion and had to hurry. Tardiness was treated almost as harshly as fighting at Memorial.

Eric's hopes of his intervention going unnoticed lasted only halfway through his class. Someone apparently recognized him, and the rumor mill at Memorial was generally recognized as the fastest communication system known to man. The summons to Mrs. Grunewald's office came as a disappointment but no real surprise.

Walking into the office, Eric noticed a sympathetic look from the middle-aged black woman who had been the secretary through several principals. In the principal's office, he encountered no such sympathy.

"Mr. Kasten, you are aware of the policy against fighting, are you not?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"But you chose to involve yourself in a fight, anyway?"

"No, Ma'am. I did not get in a fight. I helped an injured girl get away. That's all."

"Then how did you get that cut."

"The boy attacking her hit me as I helped her away."

"So you WERE in a fight, then."

"No, Ma'am. I did nothing but help the girl. I did not even speak to him."

"The policy is clear. You were involved in a physical confrontation and must be suspended. I hope you will learn to obey the rules from now on."

Disrespect was not part of Eric's nature, but with his growing self-confidence, he could not completely stifle his outrage. "Mrs. Grunewald, if that had been your daughter being beaten, should I have walked away as your rule requires."

The principal's face darkened and she almost shouted her response. "How dare you! The rule is clear. Besides, that girl is a known trouble-maker with a terrible reputation."

"So if she was a white honor student I wouldn't be suspended?"

At that, Mrs. Grunewald almost choked. She wholeheartedly espoused the liberalism that was essential to advancement in the education system. She had slipped up, and this impudent student had caught her. "Mr. Kasten, I should increase your suspension for your attitude."

"Attitude? Look, I saw a girl getting badly beaten. I didn't stop to worry about the fighting rule. I didn't check to see if she was the Prom Queen or the school slut. I couldn't live with seeing her beaten. If you can, then I pity you!" As he left the office, he noticed the door was not completely closed. The secretary was staring at him with open mouth and moist eyes.

Mrs. Grunewald hurried out after him. "Mr. Kasten, stop right there! You're to wait for security to escort you out."

"Security should be too busy arresting the guys who beat that girl. I know my way out." As he walked through the outside door, he saw the on-duty officer assigned to the school hurrying toward the exit with his walky-talky to his ear. He didn't stop walking until he reached the convenience store two blocks away.

Eric took the school bus to school, and it was a good seven miles to his house. He was unfamiliar with the city bus system, and he was becoming stiff from the kidney blow. He had Dex's number and called it, not wanting to upset his mother. Morgan answered and he told her a summary of what had happened. She insisted he stay right there and she would pick him up.

In less than ten minutes, Harv pulled up instead, their office being close to the school. As they drove toward Dex's, Harv got the whole story, carefully covering every detail. At the house, Morgan dragged him right to the hot tub, and he got to tell the story again to her and Dex, who joined them.

The soak felt good on his tender back, and Morgan was very attentive. Dex left after he heard the story, then returned a little later to tell them that Marty was there. Eric looked puzzled, then realized that his instinctive action had now escalated into a legal battle.

"Hey, there's no need to get a lawyer involved. I'll just do my suspension and be done with it."

"No, Eric, we can't let it go at that," Dex told him. "You saw an injustice and stopped it. An injustice was then done to you, and we're going to stop it. I was in a similar situation fifteen years ago. Believe me, Marty will take care of it."

Things had gone far beyond what Eric was comfortable with, but his respect for Dex was such that he went along. Marty's interview was brief but thorough, and as she left, she told him she would take him to school in the morning.

By the time the commotion died down, Eric was feeling pretty wrung out, and movement was rather painful because of his back. On top of that, the area of the cut high on his cheek was developing into a lurid bruise.

Morgan had stayed right by Eric since he had arrived. By agreement, they tried to be circumspect with each other when there were other people around. It was not that they were ashamed of their sexual relationship, just that neither wanted to come across as a star-struck lover. She was finding it hard to stick to her resolve at that point.

Eric's actions had shown so much of the character Morgan had seen developing in him, she thought she would burst with pride. And pride wasn't her only reaction. She barely restrained herself from attacking him in the hot tub, and she vowed he would get very, very lucky that night. She just hoped the bruises would not slow him down too much.

Actually, Morgan had left Eric for a while as he talked to Marty. She had called Sandie and arranged for her to come for dinner and spend the night. She told her what had happened to Eric and assured her he was all right. Harv was contacted and was more than willing to pick Sandie up, take her home to pick up necessaries, and spend the night with her at Dex's.

Morgan simply told Eric that their scheduled date had been rearranged, and told him the plan. Since he almost viewed Dex's as his home, he made no objection at all. A couple other times, he had slept with Morgan while his mother slept with Harv in the same house. It was a credit to mother and son that they talked freely about their own sexual relationship and its impact on their other interests.

Sitting down to eat in Dex's kitchen always brought back memories. When he met his mother's eyes across the table once, he could read the grin she gave him. She was thinking of the mornings he and Dex had served breakfast naked to the women from the shelter, of which she was one. Morgan probably knew why he blushed spontaneously at the thought, and his mother certainly did.

Morgan seemed to know everything about him, like she was in his mind. He didn't know if he was just transparent, or if she was that perceptive, not that her really cared. He still had to pinch himself every time he thought about Morgan, it all seemed so unreal. Here he was, a scrawny, nondescript Sophomore who had hardly spoken to most of the girls in his classes before Christmas. Yet, this babe who was so sexy he got hard just at the passing thought of her couldn't seem to get enough of him.

Morgan had assured him over and over, and he believed her, that it was not just because he was available and she was horny. Her little shows of affection when they were nowhere near bed told him she valued him as a person. Never considering himself anything special, he was still trying to grasp her feelings for him.

Eric felt some of the same amazement over his mother's feelings for him. She had always been proper - circumspect was the perfect word. Yet, just days after they had fled, she initiated sex with him, dismissing anything but her need and their shared joy. It had been years since she had to be motherly to him, and maybe that was part of why it happened. Yet, during those same years, he had not been at all demonstrative about his feelings for her.

It could not be just the removal of the specter of his father's abuse, either. She had quickly found Harv, and they were now lovers when they could manage it discreetly. Still, she came to Eric many nights when they were alone together, and he was fairly sure Harv knew about it. The sex was incredibly intimate. He always had the feeling that every part of their bodies and minds were connecting as he entered her. The first few times, he could almost feel her drawing strength from him. Later, the strength flowed both ways.

Sex with Morgan was different than with his mother in many ways. The best way he could describe it was with his mother, there was depth and intimacy. With Morgan, there was energy and sheer joy.

Sandie's trim body was wonderful, but Morgan's was unbelievable. Dressed, Morgan was attractive, but naked she was delicious - that was the best description he could come up with. Her proportions fit neither the centerfold nor runway model templates, but the overall image screamed SEXY. The color and texture of her skin and the luxurious cushioning layer beneath it cried out for touching. He caressed her somewhere almost constantly when they were together, stopping only when it was inappropriate because of other people present. She fed on it.

Typically Morgan, she sensed his reverie and apparently the subject. She was sitting next to him, and she slid her hand right to his crotch. Taking a moment to locate the bulge of his glans, she fingered it gently until she felt him begin to squirm.

Conversation was spirited as always when that group assembled, and they all made a point of including the two sheltered women who were staying there at the time. About nine o'clock, Morgan whispered to Eric "You've had a hard day and you've got school tomorrow. What I've got planned for you is going to take a loooooong time. So if want any sleep at all, we'd better get started."

Not that he cared to argue with Morgan anyway, but her plan sounded perfect, and he rose, offered her his hand and towed her toward the hot tub. The best times at Dex's always seemed to start in the hot tub.

No surprise at all to Eric, Morgan insisted on streaking to her room, and the mild exhibitionist episode obviously stimulated her. In her room, Eric saw the large towel spread out on the bed, and automatically knelt beside it, assuming he was going to give her a massage. Running his hands over her delightful flesh was always a pleasure. But she had a different plan.

"Huh uh! You're the wounded warrior. Tonight I do all the work. Lie down on your stomach."

The experience was a first for Eric, and it took him about ten seconds to decide it made taking the punch almost worth while. As he luxuriate under her strokes, he understood why she always ended up at a fever pitch of arousal after a massage. And she was only doing his back, so far.

Well, his back and neighboring areas. After doing his back and buttocks, carefully avoiding the kidney area, she started at his feet and worked up. Reaching the top of his thighs, she moved his legs a little farther apart and with a single finger, stroked the area right behind his scrotum firmly. His cock sprang up so quickly and so hard it fairly raised him off the bed.

Morgan having planned it all out beforehand, Eric was writhing with the pleasure of her massaging finger when he felt another, very slippery finger working into his rectum. That was beyond any of the light finger rimming they had indulged in before and took him by surprise. It was alarming but undeniably stimulating and just the way she was going about it made objections seem pointless.

Her finger was all the way in very quickly, and she dropped the other hand under his sac, holding it firmly. Suddenly, he felt a different pressure that felt like it was right behind his testicles. Before he could even try to figure out what was happening, he was coming.

After an endless succession of pulses, he was able to gasp out "What the Hell?"

"Prostate massage," she whispered between licks on his ear. "Boy, is that a feeling of power!" and she giggled. "Don't worry. There's plenty of towels." She sat and caressed his back lightly for a while, then had him turn over. Fetching a wet rag from the bathroom, she cleaned him up, then had him lay on a dry towel.

"Wish you had a trigger like that," he said as he looked at her beaming face.

"Well, I sorta do," she replied.

"You mean there's something you haven't showed me yet?"

"Oh, you've found my G-spot before."

"Oh, right. Hey, my tongue needs a workout. Any ideas?" It had taken him only a couple of sessions to learn how much a little teasing and playfulness added to her arousal. That was one big difference between her and his mother. Sandie was all serious intensity when they made love. He knew instinctively that levity would break the mood for her.

Morgan flipped around into the sixty-nine position with the agility of a gymnast, and he grabbed her hips to pull her pussy right up to his mouth. He was so absorbed as he began his assault that he hardly noticed she was only caressing him gently. If her G-spot was in any way analogous to his prostate as far as stimulation, he was determined to 'do unto others.' It took some contortions, but he soon had a finger searching the front of her channel while he kept his lips and tongue busy on her clit.

It was not certain that he found the spot, but it was certain that he got her to climax. With Morgan, there was never any doubt. With her, he always got the impression of energy with legs. When she climaxed, the energy release was massive. During recovery, she laid her face right beside his cock. He, in turn, stroked her opulent ass cheeks, one of his favorite pastimes.

While she still had energy, Morgan was always loathe to savor the afterglow for too long. Soon, she got up and knelt beside him and reached for a condom packet on the nightstand. Saying "Ta daaa!" she threw the packet back over her shoulder with a flourish. "That was my treat for you tonight. Good reward for my warrior, huh?" With that, she straddled him and worked her way down onto him.

Cowgirl was a position Morgan loved, and they used it frequently. Tonight, though, Eric had a desire for more closeness. Reaching up to hold her by the shoulders, he pulled her down onto his chest. He brought his knees up between her legs and started a rhythmic thrusting by pushing down with his feet to raise his ass off the bed. With her legs spread, the friction was decreased somewhat, promising more staying power from him. With each thrust he made, there was a small amount of pain from his bruised back. He had the feeling he could keep going for quite a while.

Always eager to participate, Morgan was not content to let him do the work, and soon, she was slamming herself backward against him each time he pushed. This was another characteristic of their love-making. The first coupling was always hard and fast, sometimes almost frantic. Though he tended more to gentleness by his nature, Eric knew that was what she wanted and needed. It certainly was not unpleasant to him.

They pounded at each other for several minutes, Eric hoping he could bring her off first. Even with the pain and her spread legs, the stimulation still built too fast, and he exploded before she got there. It was their first time without a condom, and that undoubtedly sped his ejaculation. Much to Morgan's delight, Eric was often able to stay hard, even after his second come. In that state, he was able to stroke for a very long time, sometimes driving her to multiple orgasms.