We Need a Daddy

We Need a Daddy Part 3

By Frank Lee

I should have figured that I would be walking bowlegged for days after my first fucking by Mr. Collins. He has a dick that I labeled the "weapon of ass destruction" as soon as Chip and I got him out of his clothes that first day we had him over to the house to recruit him as our daddy. Even soft that thing hung like a battering ram between his legs. When he stroked it or one of us worked it over with hands and mouth, it puffed up into a fully aroused, lethal log.

Yes, I hurt down there for days, even more than when Chip and I would reverse our usual roles and I'd get him to poke me in the ass. Chip is no piker when it comes to cock size. That is one of the things about him that made me go ga-ga back in school every time I got a glimpse of his awesome teen body.

It's funny, thinking back. The two of us went practically through all our school years together trying to convince the world and each other that we were the two straightest jocks at Ridgemont, when in reality, all the while we were pining for each other like a couple of hungry puppies. I'd jerk off at home in the morning and two or three times after school, but still it seemed like I always had blue balls, because nothing could satisfy my hunger for Chip's affection. But could I tell him that? No way. Not in a thousand years. What a dumbass I was all that time. Him too.

I remember the first time I learned what "blue balls" meant. It was Art Rooney, a pal of my older brother Jim, who told me. I later came to suspect that Art might be gay, partly because he sometimes seemed to be making a play for Chip. But way before that, one day when he was at our house studying with Jim, I overheard them talking and heard that phrase, "blue balls." I was too embarrassed to ask Jim directly what it meant. He and I got along fine, but he never seemed comfortable mentoring me in the ways of the world, especially sex. Hell, he was only two years older, but whenever I would start asking him facts-of-life questions that a young teenager is plagued by 24/7, he'd clam up and try to change the subject. He was almost as bad as my dad in terms of communication. So when Art went downstairs to make a phone call, I followed him. After he hung up I asked what it meant.

"Ha ha, so you heard us talking about that, eh?" said Art.

"Yeah, it seems like something to do with sex if the balls are these down here," I said pointing to my crotch. "But I can't imagine why my balls would turn blue."

Art stared at my crotch long enough for me to suspect he was longing to touch it. Then he snapped out of it with a shake of his head.

"OK, listen," he said. "I guess you are old enough, but don't tell Jim that I've been teaching you dirty words. He'd clobber me. But it's really not a dirty word at all, and nothing to be ashamed of or afraid of. It just means that you need to get your rocks off – you know what that means, right? –and you don't do it for days or weeks and the jizz keeps building up inside your balls until they ache. It can get pretty painful. The best way to cure it is to cum, whether you're by yourself or with somebody else. How often do you jerk off?"

I was taken aback by the question, but I told him: At least twice a day, sometimes more.

"Well," he said, "keep beating your meat that often and you should have no problem with blue balls."

I nodded, and he made me repeat my promise not to tell Jim about our conversation. It struck me as odd that he'd say "with somebody else" instead of "with a girl." That was my first inkling that he might be attracted to boys. I had no idea then that he would also turn out to be a threat to my happiness.

That is what Chip and I had together: Real happiness.

Before we brought Mr. Collins into our lives we had many days when we'd shut out the rest of the world and suck and fuck each others' brains out, just us two horny bad boys. And we tried to keep the sex exciting and fresh.

One Friday night Chip brought home the first of what would become a pretty extensive collection of sex toys. It's a battery-operated vibrating dildo, flesh colored and with a big, plum-like head and a good sized shaft. Our dicks are both good and thick, but this fake dick is thicker than either one. You turn a knob at the base to make it quiver and purr.

The first time we used it Chip had me lie on the bed, face down, and proceeded to give me a full-body massage with that think turned up to the max. As he ran it over my skin, up and down my sides, all over my back, I started imagining it inside my ass. Just the thought of all that giant shaft quaking inside me gave me a raging hard-on. My stiff dick rubbed between my abs and the bed sheet, getting progressively harder. By the time he laid the toy along my ass crack, I was already leaking. I could feel the moisture on my stomach. Chip reached around under me and took hold of my dick, wrapping his fist around it like a tight man hole.

"I figured you'd be turned on when I turned this thing on," he chuckled. "Fuck my fist while I get you ready for a new sensation up your ass."

He was talking like an expert. He told me later that he'd had more than one vibrating dildo up his butt and, knowing what the sensation did to him, was pretty sure I'd be just as excited. I told him it was already happening in my imagination and I couldn't wait to feel it for real.

"Patience, my love, patience," he teased.

He kept rubbing my ass crack with the vibrator and, with his other hand, squeezing my cock tightly so I could fuck his fist and feel like I was plugging a tight butt.

"I like the feel of your love juice wetting my palm," he said.

With that he pulled his hand from under me and put his palm up to my lips. I licked the pre-cum off and kept licking his palm so when he put it back it would be plenty lubed for lots more simulated fucking.

Now he was ready to impale me with that marvelous, magical toy. He poured some lube all over his fingers and stuffed them up my hole, twisting a little so the sphincter walls were plenty wet. Then he lathered some more lube on the vibrator and put the quivering head of it against my butt hole. Once he was done with the lubing and prepping, he repositioned his wet, lubricated fist around my cock.

Oh, man, was that ever hot! Between the fist I was fucking and the big dick head poised at my back door, I can't remember my whole body ever before having such a thoroughly pleasurable sensation. He held the vibrator there at my rosebud a while, pressing it in between my ass lips then taking it away, then putting it back. Every time the head was gently positioned against my pucker I went nuts. I knew this thing would be even more enjoyable once inside, but I wanted this sex session to last a long time, so I was willing to let him take as much time as he wanted with the foreplay. Finally, I told him I couldn't take the teasing any longer and demanded he stuff the shaking shaft up my tight, hungry hole. Sure enough, when he stuck it in the sensation was unbelievably intense. I thought I would shoot my load then and there, but I held back. I had to reach down and pull his hand off my cock so he wouldn't make me erupt prematurely. Now Chip settled into a fucking rhythm, pushing the vibrator farther and farther up my hole with each stroke. He bent it at exactly the right angle to have it land up against my prostate then twisted it around in place. He held it there, buzzing against my prostate. The vibrations inside me, up against my ultimate sweet spot made my whole body tremble. He brought his face down to one of my butt cheeks and kissed it over and over, saying he owned my hole, loved my hole, would make my hole feel fantastic. He sure was doing that. A little bit longer with that thing poking around inside was all it took to empty my churning balls. I shot a huge puddle between the sheet and my stomach, but I kept humping the bed after I came because my thick man juice felt so good, so wet and warm. Pretty soon I was fully hard again. A little more stroking inside the tight confines of that cum sandwich under me and I was releasing another convulsing shower of sperm into the same pond. It could not have been more than two minutes between cum shots, and they were both without touching myself. I rolled on my side and fished behind me for his big man tool, which was throbbing hard. I gave him one of the best blow jobs ever, and he filled my throat with his hot seed.

I know it's naïve to think that at the age of 18 we could be having the best sex that any two people have ever had, but I felt that way.

Because things seemed so perfect, I was at first reluctant to suggest adding a third man to our happy home. I thought Chip might resent it and worry that I was unsatisfied. But I finally decided I could convince him that bringing a daddy to the equation would not take away from what we had together but rather would fill a void from both our upbringings and make us even happier. Two plus one equal four. Something like that.

And so we formed a threeway with Mr. Collins, whom we had both lusted after in school, and whom we soon started to call Rod instead of the awkward "Mr. Collins."

As we settled into what most people would regard as an unusual relationship, we found ourselves dealing with the mix of ups and downs typical of any other "normal" household. Instead of just the interplay of similar-aged couples, though, we had all the complications of an ongoing love bond between Chip and me and the addition of, really, two daddy-son relationships. Once in a while, jealousy would rear its ugly head.

Naively, I suppose, I was thinking that whatever sex we had would be all inclusive, all three of us messing around. Chip had a different idea and so did Rod. I found out how different when I returned early from a trip that was supposed to be two days to visit my sister. Instead of returning on a Tuesday morning, I had caught a bus back late Monday. Normally I would have called to say I'd be coming back early, but I kept putting off doing so all day Monday. In truth, I think I was subconsciously testing the two of them.

Anyway, I got back in town at 8 p.m. and cabbed it home, arriving around 8:30. As soon as I opened the door I sensed that something was going on. Then I heard the faint squeak of a chain rocking back and forth, and I knew for sure. It stopped suddenly as I got to the stairs, Chip called out, "Eddie, is that you?"

There was no doubt what the noise was. We had ordered a portable sling on the Internet. It arrived just before I had left a couple days before. Now it was rocking back and forth without me in it, and I was pissed. Instead of replying, I just walked up the stairs – stormed, really – and confronted them in the guest bedroom, Rod lying on his back in the sling, legs high in the air, dick hard as a rock and still sticking up like a flag pole, and Eddie with a sheepish look on his face and a hard-on of his own that was fast withering, although still poised at the pink rosebud it had just obviously popped out of.

His face flushed a bright red. He knew I'd resent this kind of sneaking around.

"Hey, buddy," I said. "No secrets, right? Shit. I go away for barely two days and you two fling yourselves at each other like a couple of drunken horny sailors who've been at sea without sex for months."

I was already starting to regret coming on so strongly when I spied from the corner of my eye a sailor outfit strewn on the floor, complete with bell bottoms, blue-and-white striped pullover shirt and one of those classic white sailor hats.

I couldn't help breaking up in laughter.

"Oh, my God," I laughed. "I had your number, didn't I? Which of you studs is the sex-starved sailor with a boy in every port?"

Chip's frozen face broke into a relieved grin as he replied:

"Guilty as charged"

I realized I was being an asshole, giving them shit about having sex without me. After all, we were a threesome, all with nearly constant sexual needs, and no longer an exclusive couple. Our third participant in the threesome was just as much a part of the relationship as Chip or me, and we were all entitled to get our rocks off whenever and wherever. It's not as though they were straying outside the relationship.

"OK. Sorry I freaked out," I said. "You didn't deserve that."

"We're sorry too," said Chip. "No more sneaking around. Promise."

"All right then, carry on," I said. "Where do I enlist? You need some help getting it up again so you can keep plugging that hungry, funky man hole?"

"Now you're talking," said Chip. "Come here and suck this mast."

I grabbed the white sailor hat and stuck it on his head before dropping to my knees to gobble on that gorgeous meat. As I swallowed his thick shaft and felt the knob pounding at the back of my throat, my cock surged with pleasure and hardened up so urgently that my pants nearly split a seam. I kept sucking as I loosened my belt and pants and let them drop to the floor. Chip leaned into Rod and dug his tongue into his juicy hole while I rode his shaft up and down. He rose up again and I glanced into his eyes and caught a subtle signal for me to take a taste of the hole he'd been rimming and, earlier, fucking. That was all I needed. I stood up and grabbed the chains next to Rod's thighs and licked the ass crack as I gently swayed the sling toward me and away again, letting my tongue poke into the hole each time it approached my face. I slid my extended tongue in there as expertly as Chip had been doing then moved my groin in close and let my rock solid cock head brush against his ass cheeks. The sensation redoubled my excitement. My cock was now throbbing and bouncing up and down along his crack, leaving a sticky residue of pre-cum all around the hole. It was so slippery with my clear man juice that when I leaned forward the slightest bit my dick head started poking through the tight sphincter like a warm knife into a tub of soft butter. Shit, did that ever feel good. They must have been going at it for a long time for the hole to be this easy to penetrate. I wanted to make my homecoming last a long time, so I yanked myself back sharply, letting my cock head pop out of his wet hole like a champagne cork. It was really drooling now, and I could feel the jizz churning up in my nuts, yearning to spew out. I was so close that I instinctively grabbed the base of my cock so I could calm that sucker down for a while.

I moved back from Rod's ass on the sling and stood there squeezing the base of my boner, fidgeting like some kid who had to take a piss really bad. Chip chuckled and waved me out of the line of fire so he could reinsert his randy tool where it had been when my two horny lovers were so rudely interrupted by my angry entrance. My energetic cock sucking had left him so aroused that his cock was sticking straight out in front of him.

"OK, sailor," I said. "You're at full mast. Let's see you sail that battleship into port and swab his deck with that pumper."

Chip winced at the strained metaphors then pointed his surging member at Rod's crack and got ready to slam it home. He shoved that gorgeous tool into the beckoning hole with such a driving force that the sling shook wildly, lifting two of the upright poles off the floor and banging them down again. The crash stunned them both for a moment, and they stopped the action long enough to make sure that nothing, body part or otherwise, was about to go flying off somewhere. Chip's groin was tight against the target ass when he stopped. He decided he needed more leverage to really pound that hot hole. He wrapped his hands around the supporting poles at about waist height and started a rocking motion that quickly accelerated to warp speed. He would shove his hips against the eager crotch to let his big fat prick carve a path to glory. Then, once it had plunged as deep inside the swaying tunnel as it could go, he would arch his back and poke his ass way out to yank his fuck pole clear out of its sheath. As Rod and the sling swung away from his dick, he'd aim it again so on the return swing it would plunge right back inside in one clean motion. His cock was so stiff he had to bend his upper body over to get it at the right angle for each fucking stab. Rod was rolling his eyes back in his head, mouth wide open, grunts of delight escaping each time he got poked. At one point he let out a piercing yelp of pleasure-pain as the pounding dick found its way deep into his cavity, pushing hard against his inner sphincter. The barrier gave way reluctantly, and from then on Chip could ram him as hard as he wanted and cause no excruciating discomfort. He revved up the pace and dug away like an air hammer. After that one sharp cry, Rod let a huge grin spread wide across his face, and from then on he was ecstatic.

Chip turned to me and nodded toward his own ass. I'd been standing there stroking while I watched and was so fucking horny by the time he gave me that subtle signal that I was fully prepared to complete the fuck train. I put my hands around his waist, and my cock head fit into place against his hole as though it had been precision tooled to slide inside. It was so natural, and it felt so damn good, just like old times. Only now I was poking him while he poked our daddy. We had a lot of fun the rest of that day, especially with the sailor fantasy.

It turned out that Chip had borrowed the sailor outfit from our downstairs neighbor and close buddy Zac. He's a 24-year-old college senior who a couple months earlier had started a serious relationship with a much older active-duty Navy enlisted man, Roger. It was Roger's uniform that Zac had pulled together at Chip's request. We never saw much of Roger, still don't, but at least on that dramatic evening we did see and fantasize with his uniform. Zac loves to talk about the great sex life between him and Roger. Chip and I in turn gossip out of Zac's earshot about how long their relationship will last. They're both extraordinarily hot guys, the kind whose pictures show up in sexy underwear ads, but neither one earns much money, and Zac still has another semester to go before he gets his degree, so that is another financial drain. We speculated that somebody, maybe a wealthy sugar daddy, would snatch Zac away from Roger. Meanwhile, we all three agreed that if an occasion arose, we'd love to see more of Zac and Roger, maybe naked in our bedroom.

After the dustup about the sling incident we had another domestic clash, which was much more serious, when Chip told me about his little "fling" in the alley with Art. I never liked that conceited prick to begin with, and now I learn that he seduced my one true love. And Chip actually expected me to let it roll off my back. Hey, WTF is with that? I knew they were friendly in school but had no idea they were full-fledged fuck buddies for most of our last two years. Then to find out that the two of them messed around so blatantly the very day we first had Rod over, Art blowing Chip in a goddam alley behind the beer and wine store. I was furious, so pissed that I really lost my head. OK, so he apologizes, which he finally did three fucking weeks after the fact, when he finally told me the whole story, including how they messed around together in school. He tried to make it sound like an unavoidable encounter in which he was the totally innocent party. And did I mention that he waited three weeks to tell me? He treated it like it was no big deal. Went to the grocery store for the steak and all, stopped at the beer and wine store to get the wine and oh, by the way, got a quickie blow job in the alley from that scumbag Art. Frankly, it would have been better if it had been a total stranger instead of Art. It made me crazy to know that he had dipped his wick in that no-good piece of shit and then "neglected" to let me in on their dirty little tryst for three whole weeks. What? I'm supposed to forgive him? Forget it ever happened? Not me! No, sir!

Well, as I said, I really lost my head. Looking back now, I realize I totally overreacted and did a really dumb thing. The day after he confessed I made up some excuse to get out of the house and headed to the Red Wagon, which was the one place I knew for sure to be a gay bar. I'd get my pound of flesh by getting to pound some flesh other than Chip's or Rod's.

I parked a block away and walked down there apprehensively. This was all brand new to me. I opened the door and stepped inside. The entrance area was pitch black, but I could see light coming from around the corner and went toward it to scope the place out. It's a fairly compact place. Once all the way inside, it looked pretty much like any other watering hole except there were no women, and there was hardly enough light to see your hand in front of your face. A really good looking guy in tank top and jeans was tending bar. Sitting on the stools closest to where I was were three very hot looking guys. Two who seemed to be together were 20-something twinky types. Even though they were around my age and very cute, I wasn't interested. Instead, I was drawn like a magnet to the third guy, a middle-aged, bearded hunk in shorts with very hairy legs and arms who looked like he just came from a world class body building competition. His biceps were literally as thick as my thighs. His chest strained the tight muscle shirt he was wearing. Very perky nipples stood out like a couple sewing thimbles. They were that huge. I caught myself staring at the nipples just as he noticed that I was transfixed by them. He smiled and shifted his legs so he was more or less facing me, legs spread apart like a welcoming gesture. I took it as an invitation to sit next to him and maybe more.

As soon as I sat, he leaned toward me and asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"

I never turn down a free drink, especially from a hunk like him. When the sexy bartender slid my rum and Coke toward me, my new friend leaned in close and, nodding down toward his pecs and beyond them to a nicely bulging package between his legs asked, "You like what you see?"

I gulped and said yes. He told me he thought I was hot and was turned on when he noticed me eyeing his tits. I pinched them lightly.

"Harder," he commanded.

Oh, my God. This was going to be intense from the get-go. I stopped thinking about anything else, including Chip and Mr. Collins, and focused on this major hottie who had the hots for me. I felt my malehood strain at the confining briefs and jeans. It wasn't long before he took note of my aroused state and boldly slipped his open hand into my pants, palm against my skin, and all the way inside my briefs, grabbing the head of my dick and squeezing it. If I had a slight chub before that, his move suddenly made me ultra hard. My cock head rubbed the friendly palm, throbbing, pressing it as though urgently demanding satisfaction, which, of course, is exactly what it was doing. It was beyond my control now, acting like an independent, extremely horny creature over which I had no responsibility and no accountability. I felt my knees go weak, the blood drain from my legs. I was figuratively, as well as literally, in his hands. He jiggled my nut sac, and as he did that leaned the other forearm on the edge of the bar and brought his hot lips right up to mine and pressed them together, darting his thick tongue deep inside my mouth.

OK, OK. I love Chip. Rod too. This was insane. But at that moment I was being swept off my feet by super-daddy personified, and there was no turning back.

He reached up to the top of my zipper and, without parting our lips, unzipped my pants with a jerk. My boner sprang out. Right there in front of everyone it stood at attention as he fondled it and kissed me. Being new to gay bars I had no idea if this was acceptable, two guys making out so blatantly in front of everyone, but I did not care one bit. As I said, my dick was in charge of my brain at this point. The sensation of his warm, he-man hand on my cock sent chills up my stomach and into my throat. I could feel my mouth drying out even as his wet tongue moistened my lips. Without even seeing his cock yet, I knew I wanted to devour it. I knew I wanted it inside my butt too. I pulled him by the waist till he stood up from the bar stool. I could feel his hard dick snaking down the left leg of his jeans.

"My place is two blocks away," he said. "My name is Beau."

I silently followed him out the door and down the street. It was a second floor walk-up, modest but neat, consisting of a good sized main room with stationary bicycle, a lot of free weights, and, all over the walls, pictures of scantily clad muscle men, line drawings, photos, a couple of large watercolors. One of the paintings, he told me later, was of himself 35 years ago, at the age of 17. He looked spectacular back then, but, truthfully, I thought he looked even better right there that day as we stood hugging and kissing.

I nearly shot my load in my pants anticipating the muscle worship that lay just ahead. Beau took off his jeans to reveal tight-fitting white boxer briefs that outlined his huge salami. This was only getting better. I could see his meat was most of the way toward rock hardness. His nuts, big as golf balls, were also outlined under the cotton, and they were tightening up visibly.

He sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting me to join him, but I could wait no longer for a taste of that hot meat.

I knelt between his massive thighs and started roaming with my hands, all over his tight abs, rubbing my palms over his nipples as I grabbed two handfuls of steely pecs, running my fingers over his huge arms, rubbing the thick hair on his forearms and squeezing his biceps. I could get my open hand about one-third of the way around each one. I can still today marvel in utter awe at their size and strength.

I placed my hands on top of his thighs and nuzzled my face into his crotch, putting my mouth sideways on the shaft of his thick manhood and gnawing on it rapidly like I was eating an ear of corn. He liked what I was doing, showing his pleasure by unzipping his pants and guiding his very rigid prick into my mouth. I started sucking on it slowly, going down as far as I could toward his pubes then, as my excitement grew, accelerating my speed as I grew more accustomed to the pounding of his huge, hard helmet at the back of my throat.

All of a sudden Beau lifted my head off his dick, kissed me hard on the lips and said, "Fuck me. I need you to fuck the shit out of me." You could have knocked me to the floor.

I was startled as hell but determined not to let any hesitation on my part jeopardize this moment. It was too perfect. I'd always wanted to drill an ultra-macho muscle man but thought it an impossible pipe dream. Now it was about to happen, and I was not going to screw up this opportunity. Chip and Mr. Collins, needless to say, were the farthest things from my mind.

Beau went into the bedroom and lay face down with his sexy boxer briefs about a quarter of the way down his incredibly gorgeous butt. I yanked off my pants and underwear and climbed on the bed. I got on top of him, my stiff dick resting between his shrouded cheeks, the pre-cum making a big wet spot on the cloth exactly where his hole lay under it. I was sorely tempted to grab the pants with both hands and dramatically rip them off, but, well, that's not me, unfortunately.

I took my thumb and pushed it down hard on the wet spot, feeling his eager hole, and pressing even harder so I could penetrate it with my thumb through the pre-cum lubed cloth. As I pushed further into his love tunnel I felt it give way and almost desperately pull me inside, deeper and deeper. When I got in up to my knuckle he begged me to substitute my cock for my thumb. That was not gonna happen, though, until I got a full helping of man-hole juice all over my tongue. I pulled the pants lower, exposing his pink starburst that he was pleading with me to violate. Before proceeding any further, though, I had to pause to appreciate the beauty of this man's butt cheeks. They were tight, defined, perfect. Not a lot of men have true "bubble butts." Take my word for it. I am a connoisseur. Beau's ass defined the term. I spread his cheeks wide and put my mouth over the hole. My tongue slithered inside and dug around, wetting the walls and preparing for my onslaught.

There was a condom on the nightstand. I wrapped my hot rod and positioned the business end right up against his beautiful sphincter. I let the weight of my body ease my rigid prick slowly through the opening. Once the head popped inside I probed deep into his ass. I rammed that tight hole over and over as though my cock were a post hole digger on a mission. He let out whimpers and moans, grunts and sighs until he grew hoarse and just lay there in silence, taking the impaling like a dutiful maiden eager to please her Lancelot. With my balls full to the brim and struggling to empty themselves into the fine specimen of manhood underneath me, I lunged into his butt one final time and stayed still until the cum surged out of my cock with the force of a fire hose. It was such a powerful blast I feared I might have broken the condom. We lay there a while, him letting out a satisfied and grateful series of animal sounds and me just reveling in the glory of fucking such a perfect stud. Hell, my load was inside him, sloshing around between those muscular cheeks of ass flesh, separated from this beautiful man's innards by a thin layer of latex. I finally pulled my cock out and slipped the condom off. I was in for another shock as he whispered, "Feed me that load. I want to taste your cum."

I held the condom above his waiting mouth by the nipple end and let the warm fluid drip between his lips, squeezing my fingers down the length of the condom so that every drop went into his mouth. Then I kissed him and stuck my tongue inside his mouth, rolling it around so I could taste my cum too.

I did pay a price, of course, not in any loss of affection from Chip or Rod so much as the guilt I felt for days afterward. Yes, I had gotten him back for his indiscretion. Got him back good. More than got him back. But I realized very quickly that my vengeful behavior was way out of proportion to Chip's error, which was, after all, basically unavoidable as I think about it. He and Art were not renewing anything, far from it, and my fears of abandonment were groundless. The asshole cajoled Chip into letting him suck him off. It was that simple. End of story. Chip wanted nothing to do with him – ever – and was only acquiescing in order to get the wine for our big dinner. So, of course, I felt like the world champion ass hole for weeks afterward.

To pull me out of that funk it took a renewed and enriched feeling of deep affection that I could sense from both my dear, wonderful bro and our sexy daddy.

They're the best.

(To be continued)