Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Being Wanted	By : ChaoticReactions Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 126320 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. In fact, I'd be very thankful if this never reaches poor Ms Rowling's eyes. Nor do I make money off of this, nice as that would be.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Warning: This chapter contains incest, references to Solo M, references to child abuse (physical, verbal, emotional), foot fetish, rimming, spanking, and inserting of foreign objects (F). If any of these bother you, feel free to give this one a miss

**

The next morning, at breakfast, Dudley was a little more contained than he had been the day before. Harry’s warning must have settled somewhere in his brain, because he was careful to make sure Aunt Petunia didn’t see, but not nearly so much for Uncle Vernon. But it was Dudley’s idea of careful, and his cousin had never been subtle. He’d never really needed to hide anything from his parents in his life, since all it took was battled eyelashes or a few tears to make them believe even the shakiest of lies. Luckily, both seemed fairly absorbed in their own tasks - the newspaper and the neighbors respectively - and so neither noticed. Harry could deal with him later.

In fact, that was something he could do now. Grabbing his list of chores (another relatively light day, but tomorrow was Saturday and that would likely be rough), Harry made for the hallway. Dudley stood to follow, and Harry could hear him shrug off his parents confusion of leaving food on the table. “I don’t feel like eggs, Mummy. I’ll get something better when I go out.” Part of Harry was impressed. Maybe it wasn’t the best lie he’d ever heard, but it was plenty good for Dudley.

A second later, Dudley slipped through the door, beaming at Harry, excited like a puppy expecting a reward. And so Harry gave him a thin grin, just to see his eyes go bright and adoring and his cheeks flush with heat. A quick glance down confirmed that Dudley found even the smallest of favors exciting. Interesting. Keeping his voice low, Harry asked, “How many times?”

“Four,” Dudley replied immediately, voice still bright and proud but thankfully quiet. For a second, Harry was disappointed. Four? That was it? Surely Dudley was capable of a little more lust than that? But after a second, he realized he wasn’t being realistic. Maybe in his head, Dudley could jerk himself off all night long, but in reality four was actually a respectable number of times, especially considering how hard he’d come earlier. So Harry gave him another smile and Dudley flushed and visibly bit back a moan.

Eyes going sharp, Harry tucked his hands into his pockets and did his best to look down at Dudley. “Are you actually going out today, or was that just a line?” When Dudley shook his head, Harry frowned. “Go out anyway.” Ignoring the way his cousin’s expression fell, Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “I can’t have you under foot all day. They’ll find out. They can’t find out until I say so, because otherwise we’ll have to stop.”

Harry didn’t think threatening to starve Dudley would have worked better, and the boy nodded in wide-eyed understanding. “Yeah, I- Okay, Harry.” He said ‘Harry’ like someone might say ‘sir’. It was nice. It was good. Normal. Perfect. With that he stumbled up the stairs to get ready to go, and Harry made himself scarce until Uncle Vernon left.

As he worked on dusting the living room, Harry considered Aunt Petunia. Dudley had been an accident. He’d never meant to stumble into this... whatever it was with him. But he didn’t regret it. In fact, his life had improved for it. So how much better would it be without Aunt Petunia’s chores and shrill nagging and quiet, constant disgust?

But Harry also didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t know how he could do this, or why it worked, or if there were limits to it. Did it not work on women? On someone out of his age group? Would touching Aunt Petunia break down what was going on with Dudley? That wasn’t worth it. He’d long since determined that he didn’t mind this strange new addition to himself. In fact, Harry was starting to think that he’d fight for it. Maybe worse.

Taking a deep breath, Harry slid his eyes shut and tried to think. What had changed in his life since this had started? It was August? Probably not. Harry had lived through sixteen other Augusts since he’d been born, and to his memory this had never happened. But something always changed on Augusts - he was a year older.

For a second, Harry’s stomach took a dive. The book. The odd book. It had all started there, hadn’t it? Things he’d dismissed and given no thought to, even the ones he should have. Was it like the Diary? Was Harry possessed?

Pushing away the panic, Harry took deep breaths and played with the duster. He didn’t think that was the case. The book had done something, altered him in a way he hadn’t been able to notice until now (why now? Because he was questioning it?), but he was pretty sure it was still all him. Just a different him. Okay. Maybe it was cursed? But Harry didn’t think this was a curse. It wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was a very good one. Maybe the best since that first month or so of learning he was a wizard.

Steeling himself, Harry decided he didn’t ‘care. This book could be from Voldemort and he still wouldn’t regret it. So there. Instead, he wanted to run up and get his book, no matter how angry Aunt Petunia got. But he didn’t want to risk that until he knew more. Not to mention that he’d never remembered anything he read.

Well, not if he thought of it like a book and tried to remember the words, the sentences, how they linked and what they sounded like. Maybe if he tried something else?

So instead Harry made himself relax, going back to the dusting to occupy his hands and the more immediate part of his brain. Could he get Aunt Petunia?

Yes.

The knowledge was instinctive, ingrained in him as deeply as his name. It was simply something he knew, and didn’t remember being taught. Okay, good. He could work with that. Letting his mind wander, Harry let the information come to him, continuing his chores. Most importantly, he had a much better grasp of the mechanics of sex than he had before. Then he’d been armed with only the talk of other teenage boys, whispered in a darkened dorm room like dirty secrets. Now he had an extensive knowledge of the anatomy of it; what spots felt best, common erogenous zones, when to be gentle and when to be rough. Along with that, Harry found himself knowing a lot about the accessories - spells to cast to clean out certain areas without damaging them, which toys worked where, why to use certain kinds in a vagina and not an arse. A surprising amount of the knowledge had to do with Muggle toys, which cemented Harry’s belief that this had nothing to do with Voldemort.

It was a big overwhelming, honestly. Was this what it felt like to be Hermione?

Harry also had a vague idea of how this all worked. Something about his magic going into others, and hormones and pheromones and long words that hadn’t stuck in his mind, since he didn’t know them. But that was fine - Harry didn’t need to know the hows, except the how-to. All he wanted to know was the limits. And from what he could tell, that was just about ‘none’. It wouldn’t work quite so well on someone too old or too to be interested in sex, since they were biologically incompatible with what the magic made their bodies do. But the magic would still effect them, cloud their judgment, make them want and need and center their universe around the source of it.

Him.

Harry was very okay with that.

He got the impression that there was more. That this was just the basics, like first year at Hogwarts. That he'd know more, understand more, do more as time went on and he got more advanced, until he could pass his theoretical NEWTs on the subject. But this was plenty to go on for now. More than enough, really.

So he let that happen, and resolved to spend some quality time with his book later. For now, he had a goal, and her name was Aunt Petunia.

It turned out it was much harder to get in touch – literally – with her. Harry hadn't been directly touched by her in years that he could remember, other than maybe being cuffed upside the head. Even then, Uncle Vernon was usually the one to go for that sort of punishment. Petunia preferred to hiss insults, mostly toward him but occasionally his lineage and the Wizarding World in general, under the general term of 'Freaks'.

But, while she'd let him make Darling Dudley lunch or a snack without her supervision, aware that her son would be vigilant where food was involved, Petunia was not about to let Harry cook dinner all by himself. Merlin forbid he nick a little extra food and go to bed feeling for once. And so he was able to brush accidentally against her a few times, under the guise of reaching around her for supplies. He got rewarded with more insults, especially at first, but they became more hollow with every brush, and soon enough she started to brush back, like she wanted to feel the contact. Eventually he was able to stand side-by-side with Petunia, without her pulling away like she'd been burned.

Pausing to make sure he couldn't hear Vernon pulling into the garage or something, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her down. She hesitated, eyes flashing, but it flickered out and she came willingly enough. “Be subtle,” He voice was an order, too unsure of the new connection to be anything but perfectly firm and clear with her, and Petunia nodded in understanding, swaying like she wanted to lean into the touch but was resisting. Wary of that, he kept hold if her until she stopped and shuffled to the side, knocking their hips together.

But Harry still wasn't convinced, and he needed to make sure, so he put down the wooden spoon he'd been holding and turned to face her a little more properly. “Are you horny for me?”

Gasping, Petunia bit her lip and hesitated for just the slightest moment, before nodding. It wasn't Dudley-level enthusiasm, but it was getting there. “Yes.”

“How much?” He'd proved his point, but now Harry just wanted to push. He needed to see how immediate it was, even with someone who was more resistant than Dudley.

Moaning softly, she shuddered against him. “My panties are wet.” And that was answer enough. Nodding and giving her an approving look, which made her eyes go a little dark, he reached back and wrapped his hand around her arse. There wasn't much, and what was there was boney, but it was an arse that was his. As if to prove it, she pressed back against the hand with a hiss, and Harry thought he could smell feminine arousal, even over the pungent smell of the food.

“Subtle,” Harry reminded, and his aunt nodded again, this time more earnestly. Pausing for a moment, Harry wondered if there would be another moment he would be able to speak to her privately after dinner. Probably not. So if he wanted anything else from her, now was the time. “Tonight, once Uncle Vernon is asleep, you come to my room.” He hesitated for just a second, before continuing. “Bring the wooding cooking spoon.” Petunia murmured her understanding, and then stepped away with what looked like a bit of effort before returning to the cooking. Since it was basically done anyway, and Harry no longer had to, he wandered to the table and let her finish up. Petunia could do her own work, like she did when Harry wasn't there.

By the time his uncle showed up, the table was mostly set, and Dudley had warned back in. He seemed mostly normal, other than the fact that he sat down in the seat to Harry's right of his own volition. Uncle Vernon gave his son a slightly odd look, but sat down anyway, probably pleased to not have to battle his son for the best seat – the one furthest from Harry.

That'd be changing soon enough.

Dinner went well enough, especially since Harry got served just slightly more than he normally would, via Aunt Petunia. On either side of him, a leg would occasionally brush his, like they were both afraid not touching him for too long would make him leave. But they managed to hide it well enough to fool Vernon, who spent the time bragging about closing a deal or doing something ever so important to his very typical job at his very typical company. Harry found himself having less and less patience for the sort of talk he could normally ignore, since he was very aware that he could stop it at any time.

But Harry didn't want to bother until he had a better handle on dealing with two people, especially given the vague ideas that were starting to form in his head. So, for today and tomorrow, Vernon Dursley was safe.

His uncle had said it himself, years prior. Glorious day, Sunday.

Finishing dinner, and helping to clean for Vernon's sake, Harry made his way upstairs after Dudley. His cousin was waiting for him by the door to the smallest bedroom, and Harry pushed by him to open it. Stumbling inside, Dudley's attention zeroed in on Harry for the first time since that morning. With a jerk of his head, Harry indicated the bed. “Naked and on your stomach,” He snapped out, and watched with satisfaction as his cousin snapped to it with more enthusiasm than any other authority had managed from him. Harry was the only one he listen to like that, because Dudley belonged to Harry.

A shiver ran through him, and his smile made Dudley hurry even more.

Once he was settled, Harry pulled out the lube – which he now figured he must have summoned or transfigured, somehow. His magic worked in a different way now, which apparently meant the Ministry couldn't track it – and pushed it into his cousin's hand. “Finger yourself open for me.”

Without any hesitation, Dudley opened the cap and squeezed enough into his hand to coat the pudgy fingers. Then he reached around and practically jabbed two in, and Harry held back a wince. No doubt Dudders was a virgin there, and he didn't want to have to fix any damage done. But Dudley seemed just fine, scissoring his fingers like he was made to be fucked up the arse. Almost too soon, he added a third, which was a rather impressive amount, given how wise his fingers were. Deciding enough was enough – trying to get a fist in there was an idea Harry wasn't against, but it wasn't going to be Dudley's hand – he moved forward to interrupt. “Now search. Look for the good place.” Normally he'd call a prostate a prostate, but he thought the word was probably too big for his cousin, so vague terms would suffice.

The way Dudley's fingers jerked in himself made Harry equal parts worried for damage and pleased. The other boy deserved a little pain with his pleasure. Harry had taken his licks over the years, and until he was allowed to go to the Weasleys, Dudley was perfectly welcome to accept a little bit of that right back.

His thoughts were dragged to the present when Dudley suddenly howled in pleasure, pushing back frantically onto his own fingers and humping into the open air. Seems like he'd found it, then. Harry watched him go at it, firm in the knowledge that Dudley could be at the brink for hours and never spill a drop. The mind was a wonderful thing. To add to the torment, he let his hand skim over the other boy's lower back, and the gentle, approving touch drove him wild. Tilting his head to see Dudley's expression, Harry was pleased when he saw how his eyes had rolled up and he was drooling openly into the blanket. That was fine. Now that he had Petunia, he didn't need to be so careful about cleanliness. The combined look was dazed and mindless, lost to the pleasure of it, and Harry smiled to himself a little. See, it wasn't all about revenge. He was helping Dudley feel this good too, especially when he didn't have to. So if Harry maybe got his kicks a couple of ways, Dudders was still coming out of this on top.

Letting himself simply enjoy the show, and palming himself calmly over his trousers, Harry let the minutes drag on. 5, 10, 15 minutes passed, and Dudley just got more lost. His chubby cock was an angry, painful looking red, and Harry relished the sight. Other parts of him would look good that color too. He'd have to see.

Finally, he'd had enough of just watching. Staring at the fingers, which had to be tired by now but were still pumping fast and hard against his prostate, Harry contemplated fucking his cousin. The idea should have bothered him, but it didn't. After all, the Purebloods were all one big happy family, right? Clearly, magic made that sort of genetic problem a non-issue. And, besides, it wasn't like Dudley could get pregnant.

But in the end, Harry decided Dudley getting his first blowjob was plenty. He didn't deserve any of the rest of Harry's firsts. So instead he patted (well, alright, smacked) the arse in question to get his cousin's attention. It did indeed go a very nice shade of pink. Excellent. It took a few seconds for Dudley's eyes to properly focus, but then it was like a laser. “I think you've been selfish long enough. Time to give pleasure instead of take it.” Pulling his trousers off, Harry sat down on the bed next to him. “Pleasure me.”

Yanking his fingers out of himself with a soft whine of loss, Dudley slid off the bed onto the floor. This time, instead of going straight to Harry's cock, he started at his feet. It was good, if kind of ticklish, and a soft moan escaped him. Encouraged and obviously delighted by the noise, Dudley payed special attention there, sucking each toe into his mouth and lashing like he had the cock. Every inch got licked and kissed and the heels and little jutting bones got long sucks. Then Dudley started to lap up Harry's legs, tracing the muscles and tendons until he reached his inner thighs.

But before he could get to the main event, and idea struck. Pushing Dudley out of his way, Harry concentrated for a moment, mentally casting a cleaning spell, and grinned widely when he felt it work. That book really was the best thing that had happened to him. And it was about to get better. Flipping over, he motioned for Dudley to get back to work.

He did, tracing his tongue along the entrance to Harry's arse, moaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. The vibrations at the sensitive spot felt amazing, and he pressed back in impatient want. Eager to please, eager to do anything Harry wanted, Dudley sucked at the muscles, loosening and relaxing them, before pressing the tip of his tongue in.

The wet slick heat was amazing in a way the fingers he'd used before didn't touch, and Harry pressed his face into the blanket to muffle his moan. His back arched, pressing his arse even further into his cousin's mouth, and Dudley went with it, diving deeper and deeper. Then he started to wiggle the muscle, obviously not sure what he was doing but with enough enthusiasm to make up for it.

By now, Harry could tell the downside to this – unless he could get his hands on some of the twin's old candies, Dudley's tongue just wasn't long enough to get as deep as Harry wanted it. But for now it was fine, wonderful even, and so he reached between his legs and gave himself a few lazy pumps before letting himself go.

Dudley continued to lick into Harry's arse as he came, not stopping his hungry licking until the hole was taken away. Moving off the wet spot, Harry made a gesture. Without having to be ordered, Dudley fell onto it, sucking at the wet fabric to get out the come.

Once it was clean as it was going to get, Harry pulled Dudley back, staring at the boy as he shifted impatiently, cock still rock hard and painful looking. Curiosity got the best of Harry, and he tilted his head. “Come.”

Instantly, Dudley spurted, the come managing to make it all the way over onto the bed. His cousin went limp, collapsing to the ground in relief and pleasure, hitting with a solid sounding thump. The boy lay there dazed, and Harry hummed in quiet thought before cleaning the bed with a spell. Much easier than laundry.

It was tempting to keep Dudley here until Aunt Petunia showed up, but Harry decided against. That was what Saturday was for.

Instead he shoved the boy at his pants and shooed him off, not bothering to repeat yesterday's order. If Dudley remembered and obeyed again, that was interesting. If not, no skin of his bones.

Rather than go for his book like he wanted to, Harry settled down on his bed and waited. It would be nice to get farther in, but he didn't want to go catatonic or whatever happened to him while he was learning from it. So instead he pulled out the book on Dark Wizard Hunters until he heard the rest of the house settle down to bed.

After that it was only a few minutes before Vernon's snores were just barely audible. Harry could follow the creaks of the house as Petunia made her way downstairs, grabbed her goal, and then came back. Opening the door before she could knock, Harry gestured for her to come in. Once the room was closed again and the silencing back in place, he arched a brow at her. “Strip.”

There was no hesitation now, and she slid out of her clothes until they puddled to the floor. Then she stood there awkardly, lost without direction, and Harry took that time to circle around her. She was skinny and bony all over, small-breasted and hairy between her legs. Either Vernon liked them bushy, or he just didn't care enough to motivate Petunia to shave. That was fine – Harry didn't mind either way. In fact, he thought a little variety was the best thing. Some bushy, some bare, some simply managed. Why stick with just one?

Once he'd gotten his fill, and noticed the way her nipples perked up at his attention, Harry gestured toward the bed. “Bend over and spread your legs. I want to see you.” Again, there wasn't any hesitation. In fact, she seemed to almost relish that order, moving over faster than she'd come in. Once her legs were spread open, the light was able to catch the hair and lips, highlighting the moisture that was already forming.

“You're such filth.” The words were out before Harry'd thought it out, but Petunia just stilled, listening carefully. “Look at you, spread open for you nephew. Dripping, too. You want a teenager's hands on you. One you raised. One you called a freak.” The word came out in a spit, angrier than Harry had been over it in a long time. How dare she? “Well, what does it say about you, hm? My dear Aunt, who wants the Freak. Who would be willing to do anything I asked, just for a touch.” He hummed in exaggerated thought. “I think that makes you worse than a Freak. It makes you a dirty, filthy bitch.” Shivering, Petunia nodded. “Say it.”

A gasp tumbled out of her, and the light reflected off a drip of her arousal, running down her thighs. Petunia must be soaking wet. The idea made Harry viciously satisfied. “I'm a bitch,” she gasped, muscles shifting as she fought the urge to search for a touch.

“Louder. Like you mean it. Convince me you know what you are.”

Groaning and rocking into the air, Petunia moaned loudly. “I'm a bitch! I'm a dirty bitch who wants her nephew's cock! I want your freaky cock to fuck me so hard, so hard I scream. I want you to fill me up with your come, make me drip with taint. I want to be dirty, covered by you. Anything, anything at all, but please please.” She bucked again, legs sliding even farther open. She was panting hard, and more drips and joined the original. “See me? So wet. Wetter than I've ever-” Gasping, she ground her chest against the bed. “Please, use my filthy, bitchy cunt.”

Oh. Well. Who knew Aunt Petunia had such a mouth on her? Harry guessed all those years of insulting had paid off in other ways. Moving over, he placed his hand over her cunt, feeling the flooded, hot flesh. Immediately, his hand got soaked as she ground down against him, nearly screaming and babbling out words like 'please', 'fuck', and 'bitch'. Harry let her, amused by her struggles and enjoying his first touch of a woman.

Curious to how she'd react, Harry twisted his hand and slid two fingers into her. They went in smoothly, making a quiet squelching noise for the sheer wetness. Petunia screamed again, this time lower in pitch, and started to buck on him. “Would you ride my cock, Aunt?” Because Harry could really use hearing more of her dirty talk.

Nodding hard enough to send her hair flying, Petunia mouthed at the covers for a second, like it was at all a substitute for what she wanted. “Yes,” she breathed, almost reverently. “I want that. I want it so much.”

“Anywhere?” He pressed, giving a smile that was no small part vicious. Petunia just nodded again, parroting the words back. Working in another finger, he smirked at her back. “So if I wanted to take your mouth, or your pussy, or your arse, you'd be okay with that? My, you're filthy and greedy. What a shame you are.” She just pushed down harder on his fingers, giving great gasps like sobs.

Another finger had him nearly fisting her, and that was tempting. But he didn't have the time tonight, so Harry just pulled his fingers away. Petunia gave a cry of loss, the sound almost mournful, but Harry slapped her arse to cut that out. He didn't want to hear her whines, since she certainly hadn't listened to his. “Get the spoon.” Hopping up, she waddled awkwardly to her clothes, picking it up from where it had fallen, before making her way back over. Harry sat down on the bed where she'd been and took it, before yanking her into his lap. Pulling at her until her torso flopped over his side and her arse was nice and centered in front of him, Harry spun the spoon in his hand. “I think some punishment is in order. Let's see if we can rid you of your filthy habits.”

With that he smacked the wood against her arse, not quite as hard as he would have liked. He wasn't looking to harm her, just to punish. Although, Harry freely admitted that was tempting. Instead he brought down the spoon again and again, counting off in his head. Every time she jerked, and Harry could feel his thighs grow wetter with every smack. Long and bony as she was, Petunia's face was at the floor, and she'd gone back to mouthing at it. Harry wished she could taste her son, but he'd cleaned up. Another time. Specifically, tomorrow.

Once he hit twenty, Harry stopped and turned her back up. Her face was red from blood rush and arousal, and her eyes were bright with a mixture of the same need and unshed tears. Shoving the spoon in her face, Harry arched a brow at her. “Clean it.” Instantly, she took the spoon in her mouth, cheeks stretching with the shape of it, laving and sucking and licking until Harry determined it to be good enough. Then he moved to the side and patted the bed. “Doggy style. Nothing better for a bitch.”

Moaning at his words, Petunia climbed back onto the bed, this time properly. She braced onto her elbows and knees and looked back at him, red-striped arse waving invitingly. Not one to discourage good behavior, Harry pulled himself out and settled behind her. She wasn't getting his cock, same as Dudley, but he could still enjoy her. Pressing himself along her pussy, he let the soaking wet lips wrap around his cock and started to thrust.

Petunia groaned as his dick rubbed her clit, mouth open and a thin trail of saliva running down her face and the length of her neck. She ground down against him, thrusting back as helpfully as she could. Everything about her screamed desperate and needy, from the flushed face to the perky nipples to her sopping cunt to her red arse, and it was the best she'd ever looked.

Wound up as he was, and having recovered nicely since Dudley, Harry let himself come earlier than he might otherwise, spurting up her stomach and against the underside of her boobs. Petunia gasped, moaning out something that was too garbled to understand, tongue hanging out and blocking the sounds. She collapsed forward when he let go of her hips, smearing his come into her skin. Good.

Giving himself a second to enjoy the afterglow, Harry grabbed the spoon from where he'd placed it on the bed, and handed it to her. “Use this to get off.”

Petunia flipped around and stared at it for a second, processing the order, before she took it with a grateful moan. Sliding the thinner end inside her, she thrust it in and out like a cock, the long wooden shaft scraping against her clit from the angle. She writhed on his bed, revealing the large, dark wet spot under her arse. “Oh, fuck. Look at my greedy cunt take it. I'll take anything. Wish it was your cock. Love your tainted come. Want more of it, want it in me. Want to be your bitch, to use and to fuck and to breed up, all for you.” Her dirty talk cut out as she came, the wood darkening from her wetness, and she continued to grind, prolonging the orgasm.

Finally Petunia settled, giving a sated, dopey smile and staring at him with the same adoring look as her son. Blinking down at her, Harry slid the spoon out of her pussy and put it down on her stomach. “Bring that back downstairs. Don't wash it, and use it tomorrow. I want breakfast to taste like filthy bitch.” Giving a soft moan, Petunia took it and got up. “And don't wash yourself off either.” Nodding for the final time, his aunt gave him a last hungry look before pulling her clothes back on and slipping out.

Pleased with himself and his ability to deal with both of his pets separately, Harry cleaned the wet spot with a quick mental spell before settling down for some more reading.

**

I'd advise not getting used to the daily update thing - I plan to start spacing them out soon. But I've been on a good writing binge, so I figured I could go ahead and put this out today. Next up some more fun with these two and Vernon. I only plan on one more chapter with the Durlseys before moving on, and then several more chapters before Hogwarts, where the real fun will start.

Feel free to offer suggestions. Reviews and feedback are excellent motivators.
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Being Wanted