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He remained on his feet for along time, as though unaffected by the bullet through his head, untilhis knees buckled and he collapsed backwards, so sluggishly that hehad to be defying gravity. A few small drops of blood gushed out ofthe hole and rolled down his cheek, and they left a red trail on thepale skin of his face.Everything had happened as in the vision that I had had when I wasreturning from Greensville to the city after Halloween. The freak wasdead, and I had taken his life. Killing him had been this easy, thisfast, this inevitable. I stared in shock as his body landed in a heapon the ground, coming to rest on its left side.Somebody screamed in the distance, and someone else, a man, yelled atthe top of his lungs, "Gunman! There's a gunman!" More shouts eruptedin the campus yard, and the students who had been leisurely strollingtowards the library a few dozen yards away broke into a run in theopposite direction, with one woman dropping a pile of books in theprocess. A. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his; he was reluctant but began to relax as our tongues explored each other mouths. We continued kissing until Alan was thrusting in and out of his ass with ease. "Oh fuck, it feels...it feels...good." Beto said between breaths."Yeah, I know." I responded with a smile. Beto had now started matching Alans rhythm and continued fucking me. The two guys holding Beto let go and their cocks were soon in our faces. I eagerly wrapped my mouth around one. Beto followed my lead and started sucking the other; he was a natural, just like me, who knew we had so much in common. "Oh...Fuck..." One guy yelled and a load of hot cum filled my mouth. I swallowed it all.The guy Beto was sucking soon rolled his head back, but before I could say anything he exploded in Beto's mouth. He was caught off guard and gagged as cum overflowed from his mouth and on to my chest."Oh god," Beto exclaimed."Don't worry, it's good." I said trying to reassure him..
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Both defined the two as they sat together, one aware, the other now distant in her sleep. He knew that she must rest, and he hesitated to wake her, to rouse her from this peace and tell her to go to her bed and get a proper place for her slumber. He hesitated because of how perfect her sleep seemed. How even in her state of unawareness, she still projected the boundaries, and he hesitated to touch her, even to rouse her. But he did not want to see her sleep in a chair. Still dressed from her day at work, sleeping upright in that chair. He rose from his chair and turned off the television. He lowered the window blinds in the living room where they sat, and he looked at her. He was not a big man, and he felt inadequate at his thought of lifting her and carrying her to her bed. He would surely wake her as he struggled to lift her, but he persisted in feeling she should be in her bed. So he pushed. He pushed the chair from the living room and into her bedroom. Slowly. Carefully. Quietly..

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