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The game moves to Roxanne’s home.

He was thankful for Chris's cleanliness and at a certain point he rose up, and pulled Chris on the floor.

Chris's eyes got big as he felt his asscheeks pulled apart. With no lubricant other than saliva Will mounted him, fucking him on the floor without a care in the world. Will's right hand grabbed at Chris's shaft, pumping it slowly, teasing it, but never did his eyes leave Chris's. The clench of Chris's tight butt around his thick cock did it's work, and Will could feel the tension in Chris's balls mount.

"My little girl going to come for daddy?" He said, smiling.

"Yes daddy, oh, yes!" Chris cried out.

The spray of semen struck Chris in the face and drenched his upper torso as Will growled loudly, his second load, firing hot into Chris's butt. It was one of the most powerful pieces of intimacy that the two men shared with one another.

Will panted, sweat perspiring from him.

"I think we need to go back into the shower."

Chris nodded, and was quiet for most of the morning, through the funeral, and only became talkative in the later afternoon, once they had all relocated back at the Marshall house.


At eleven o'clock the first three chimes of the Hello Kitty bright pink alarm clock intoned and Trinity's large fist tapped it soundly. It replied to her, in it's high-pitched, 'good morning' and she muttered at it.

Violet's voice was barely audible. "You're really going?"

"Yeah. Mrs. Marshall said I could and I'm gonna. I really liked the old guy," Trinity replied, sitting up in the small twin bed. She rubbed her eyes, then her large pendulous breasts and slapped a handful of Icy-Hot on the back of her neck. Trinity was not a day person by any means, and to get up at what she viewed as an unholy hour took every erg of energy she could muster. Still, for the passing of her old people, she'd do what it took, no matter what.

Violet's son, James was at school so Trinity had no qualms about padding naked to the bathroom and into the shower. While she was only slightly more conservative around James, it was merely because he was sixteen and squeamish about his own sexuality at this point. She soaped her body in the super-hot water, and started to become alive.

After logging into her email account and reading the final driving details that Marilyn had sent her that morning, she then felt safe about where she was going. Trinity would be the first to admit that she was a reckless driver and that she took far too many chances, but one of them was not getting lost. A pot of coffee and three clove cigarettes later, Trinity was as alive as she was going to get. The Funeral was scheduled for one o'clock, and Trinity did not want to be late.

She pulled on her black jeans, leather chaps, a ragged sport bra and a black t-shirt. Her leather gauntlets and helmet came on next, but only after kissing Violet good bye. She slipped out to the cluttered garage and her Kawasaki Ninja purred to life.

She, Trinity and James all occupied a small home in the side community of Brush Prairie, Washington. It's rolling farmlands were perfect for night motorcycle riding and Violet enjoyed the simplicity of the country life. James, on the other hand, did not have many children his age to mingle with, and spent the majority of his time playing video games, much to the chagrin of both of them. Soon he would be able to drive, and they hoped that he would get out more, and at least express some interest in the opposite gender.

Trinity hit sixty-five as soon as she could, her bike weaving the curves without a care. Eventually she found herself on the arterial to Interstate Two-oh-Five and from there into the major metropolitan city of Portland, Oregon. On the East side of town, was a huge cemetery, and Trinity supposed that Thomas would be interred there.

She saw the signs posted at the cemetery gate and took position next to a tree.

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