Rob had to take a cab straight from work to make his six o'clock appointment at the dojo downtown. He nearly didn't make it, what with rush-hour traff...c and all."Welcome to Archer's Dojo," Rob heard when he walked in. "What can I do for you?" Rob recognized the physically fit older gentleman from the photo on his website."I'm Robert Zane and I have an appointment," he answered crisply. "Can I assume you're Mr. McAlton?"The man offered a hand and Rob shook it, noting his grip was firm but not. He never would. He was dead, war, Iraq, IED, at 23. Afterwards I found the stuff he had written on his computer he left behind at home. Fantasies of sex with me, his mother.I read of his deep love, his wish to demonstrate it physically to me. His words spoke of a respect for me that had kept his desire secret unto death. But it didn't follow him to the grave. It lived on in his lurid writings on the hard-drive and in the driving lust it sparked in my loins for my son's hard-on. Now that he was. More

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