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Saturday, July 31, 2004

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DARKSIDE: The United States of Anarchy; "The Fimbulwinter."

[Version Control : Original.]

[Disclaimer: This text is intended for adult audiences, if you are
not of age to view it, be somewhere else. This series of stories
explores the darker aspects of the human experience, if that might
offend you, then you were warned, and it isn't my problem. -- KTM]

Anything can happen in the Multiverse. Even a world that is
much like ours, but which somehow... isn't. A world that is a
magnet for the blackness in the dreams and souls of humankind. A
world known as: The Darkside.

The World's economic system depends on a delicate
interlocking system of mutual trust and financial debt. When
those bonds shattered, the governments and monetary institutions
crumbled. Even the most idealistic civil servants left their jobs
when their families were gripped with hunger. The Survivors of
the Chaos would come to call their nation the United States of
Anarchy.


Chapter 12. "Braving The Fimbulwinter." -- by KTM.


THE IMPERIAL CHRONICLES: THE JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DANIEL JENNERS.

"The Black Towers stood by the Capitols of twenty plus States
and six Canadian Provinces after the Battle for Cheyenne Mountain
[Note #1]. Legion HQ had been moved to the mountain with Robert's
permission. The facilities there were better than anything the
Empire had time to build, yet.
"The Minister of Science Liz Tyler, and her partner Mariko
Michaelson had some interesting technology to examine afterwards.
The Hover Tank, the battle suits, and other items in the mountain
Mariko theorized that 'Area 51' was a myth of the Government.
"Instead of aliens, the base stored 'dangerous to the status
quo' inventions like the one she and Liz created. The Emperor
refused to be budged by their urging to secure the facility ASAP. He
would get to it when he was ready.
"The Power Team helped Robert comb through the enemy officers
and noncoms. The ones accused of committing atrocities against
civilians were tried by a Legion tribunal. Those convicted were
subject to swift and harsh punishments. The remaining soldiers
received a briefing on the new laws. Those who still wanted to
serve, were allowed to join the Legion. Everyone else was allowed to
return home.
"One group they didn't catch up with was Sgt. Donovan's Rat
Platoon. True to form, that disreputable group had deserted the
sinking ship of Stark's ambitions when the Legion moved in. The Dark
man promised Councilman King that the Rats would be apprehended and
tried as soon as they were located.
"As a reward for the valuable intelligence I had given the
Empire, I had been given a field commission in the Legion to the rank
of Lieutenant. They told me that I earned that commission all over
again with heroic actions during the Battle. When Mr. Black told me
that he was promoting me to Captain, I was surprised. 'You know I'm
gay, don't you sir?'
"He blinked in surprise. 'No, I didn't,' he said. 'But why
the hell should it matter, anyway?' I told him that it usually did.
He just shook his head and said, 'Well, it doesn't in my Army'
"Before I could catch myseslf, I found myself asking, 'I
suppose you're hopelessly straight, sir.' I couldn't believe I had
actually said that.
"He only smiled at me. 'Sorry, Jenners, But I am extremely
straight.'
"I breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away. You couldn't
win them all. I was just glad he didn't get angry about it."

By the end of October, the Empire's growth caused the center of
distribution to move away from the Palace. Because armed raiders
were still a concern in the fledgling Empire, Robert only gave
supplies to the most strongly built and defended of the outlaying
storage depots. He called these depots 'Keeps', and their managers
'Lords' as a joke at first, but the names stuck. The Lords
arrogantly ranked each other with the ancient titles. Their 'fealty'
to Robert, though, was nonexistent.
The Lords had small armies of personnel, and drivers who made
shipping runs for them. But just as in pre-Imperial times, there
were drivers who preferred to be independent. Even those drivers
with their own rigs couldn't get work in the new system.
Each Lord controlled the shipments from their depot, assigning
their own men only to the runs they decided needed to be made. To
keep their investments in equipment and drivers safe, they stuck
solely to the 'civilized' regions under Legion patrol. For critical
needs, Legion transport troops made the trips. For missions less
important, Robert offered premiums for shipments to hard-pressed
areas needing help. He hired independent drivers to make these runs,
but when they couldn't get refueled at the Keeps, the mercy missions
stalled.
A little bit of power went a long way, it seemed. Robert
needed to check the Lords 'authority', soon. If the commerce system
wasn't made self regulating, he'd remain burdened with it. He had
too much on his mind to want to be bothered by petty problems like
this forever. Robert realized that his first solution, once again,
was more harmful than anything else. The Keeps had been such a first
solution, and now they were causing even more trouble than they were
worth. He and his Council came up with a plan in keeping with his
long term goals. A plan which was soon put into place . . .

The last of the battered freelance truckers to show up pulled
into the landscaped circle in front of the Dark Palace. It didn't
look like many independents were willing to take Robert up on his
offer. It seemed like too good a deal to be true. He offered them
professional protections, but there were only a few willing to hear
him out.
I don't have much to work with, Robert thought, but I'll make
do. Getting their attention, he addressed the drivers, and began his
pitch. "Gentlemen," he said, "and lady," nodding to the sole female
present, "thanks for coming. I need the Empire self-sufficient,
without having to constantly support it. For that to happen, I need
regular shipping. The Lords don't like their men driving the less
patrolled roads, nor the risks of creating new routes. Therefore,
I'm looking for freelancers who are willing to take those risks."
"What kind of risks?" said the youngest driver. "We put our
balls to the wall for some crumbs, just to have their pet drivers
steal our routes? Screw that!"
"Shut up, kid," said a grizzled old driver. "I'm here because
we can't compete with them, and we've tried. With their newer rigs,
the free fueling and the road service, they just kill us on the
roads. Heck, I hauled my own gasoline to hear this."
"All that stops now," Robert said. "Collectively, you are
stronger than you are separately. If you join forces, I can apply
pressure on your behalf. I'm not suggesting a Union, but something
more like a Knightly Order, responsible only to me. They will
respect that Order, or I will tear down their walls and use local
governments to administer the depots, instead. So tell me, what do
you need to get started?"
"Weapons," the last arrival said. He was a tall young man in a
denim jacket, "And armored rigs." There was a grim expression in his
hazel eyes. "My name's Gary Miller. My dad died in the Collapse
Riots just before the end. I watched on the news as he made a run of
Red Cross supplies into Atlanta. He wouldn't leave the cab, but the
mob broke in to get the trailer keys." His voice choked with
emotion. "Those supplies were going to be given to them anyway.
They didn't have to kill him."
The other truckers looked at him, with sympathy. "You Harry's
kid?" said the woman. "Yeah, you got his red hair. He was a good
driver, and a great guy."
"Yeah," Gary answered, "that he was. Sir, it was a new truck,
and when it was stripped, they burned it. All I got from my dad was
this old rig, and I can't afford to lose it. So I want protection.
There are still plenty of guys on the road willing to kill us to get
our loads."
Robert distantly recalled watching the riots on TV while he was
still a child. It seemed like ages past to him, but for the rest of
the world it was only months ago. "I understand your position, Mr.
Miller, and I already had that in mind. Your rigs will be armed and
upgraded. You'll have new trailers if you need them, new engines,
and access to some really cool technology. Sound good so far?"
"Sounds great," the woman said. "But how 'bout snowplows?"
"A what?" Robert said. "And I didn't catch your name..?"
"'Candy' Kane is what they call me, sugar," she said. "The
last few years the snows have been very heavy. The lesser roads
aren't being plowed, so if you want us to get around on 'em, we'll
have to carry plows with us."
"Good thinking, Candy," Robert said. "I'm sure we can manage
it. Those who sign on now will get the whole package. You don't
have to join, but I can't think of any downside to the deal. My
technicians will show you what we have to offer over here..."

Nearly a week later, Gary Miller, duly elected Captain of The
Knights of the Open Road Society, grumbled to himself as he pulled
out from the Palace. He'd sure as hell hadn't thought they'd stick
him with being in charge, but they had.
Maybe there were some good sides to it though, because his new
rig was really sweet. They'd rebuilt the truck from wheels to roof.
For an engine he had a cold fusion plant, and some sort of black
boxes bolted on the frame to lighten the truck's mass by over half.
The body and wheels were made of advanced materials that wouldn't
rust or wear. He especially liked the new cab, which had all the
amenities of a small mobile home.
Personally, Gary doubted the big 'cowcatcher' on the front
grill would be very useful plowing snow, but offensively it had some
promise. The whole rig was both bullet and flame proof, and there
were searchlights that could be aimed in all directions. The auto-
guns could be manually or computer controlled via a sophisticated
video surveillance system. It felt like he was driving a tank with
cargo space.
As soon as the work was finished, he'd taken on a high risk
assignment to a tiny town in the high Rockies. Legion Scouts had
spotted survivors, and they needed help. The main load was emergency
supplies for the townsfolk, but he had a small cargo of other goodies
of his own that he carried separately for bartering. Being able to
blow past Keep fueling stations was a pleasure he relished at the
start of the run.
Despite his misgivings, the plow came in handy after he skirted
North of Denver, and headed higher into the mountains. He'd thought
the term 'survivors' in the briefing had been exaggerated, but he
found he was wrong. Between the Collapse, the harsh winter, and
raiders, he found entire towns that were devoid of signs of life.
His GPS readings told him he'd reached Eagle, Colorado, when he
pulled up to a ramshackle barricade blocking the road into town. He
turned on his floodlights in the hazy dusk, and caught sight of men
with weapons ducking down behind the flimsy protection of the wall.
Lifting his mike, he turned on the loudspeaker, "Hey, on the walls,"
he said, "I need to talk to somebody in charge in there. My name's
Gary Miller, and I have a load of relief supplies for you, paid for
by the Government."
One of the huddled shapes on the wall brought up what looked
like a cheerleader's megaphone, "What government?" the man shouted.
"And how do we know you don't carry raiders in there?"
"The Empire, is what," Gary said. "And mister, if you want to
check my load, you can come down here and do it."
A few minutes later the man slipped through a small gap in the
wall that Gary hadn't noticed before, and gestured for the trucker to
leave his cab with an ugly looking pistol. Gary made sure his helmet
and kevlar duster were on firmly, before he slipped to the ground.
"Look dude," he said, just now noticing the man had a sheriff's
badge on his tattered parka. "Did you see that trucker who was
killed in the Atlanta riots?" The guy nodded as he looked over the
trucker with a practiced eye, and then patted him down. "That was my
dad, so I'm probably just as scared of you, as you are of me."
"I doubt that," the man said. "Let's see in the back."
Gary shrugged and walked to the back, followed by the jittery
townsman. He unlocked the doors and pushed them open. A soft curse
behind him made him turn around. The shocked young sheriff had
dropped his gun in the snow. He was staring hungrily at the crates
of foodstuffs, clothing, and medical supplies stacked high in the
back.
The Sheriff gave the trucker a sudden, gruff hug, then ran
around the truck to yell at them to open up the wall, quickly. Gary
smiled, and picked up the man's service pistol. Brushing off the
snow, he laid the empty gun in the back, then dogged the doors shut.
He climbed back into his cab, and as soon as the way was clear,
the Sheriff climbed up on his running board and guided him to Town
Hall. As each crate was unloaded, Gary checked it off his list, and
had the Sheriff verify each one. When it was all off the truck, both
he and the officer signed his papers, stating that everything
required had been delivered.
Part of Gary's job was to explain the advanced new equipment,
and help pick a suitable spot for the cold fusion generator. The
Town Hall's basement proved adequate for that, and before long men
were stringing cables to nearby houses, giving them electrical power
for the first time in months. The Communication unit went to the
Sheriff's Office. It accessed the new satellite system, restoring
radio, and some phone, and video service to the town. The Sheriff's
Office also served as the armory for the Army surplus weapons and
ammunition that were part of the load.
While this being done, the entire community gathered. A
spontaneous celebration of thanksgiving was breaking out, and tables
were laden with both long hoarded preserves and newly arrived
supplies. "You must join us tonight," Sheriff Keith Thomas said,
raising a glass to him. "Because of you, the citizens of Eagle will
survive."
"I was just doing my job, Keith," Gary protested, "you know
that. I hate it when people make a fuss over me. These are your
supplies, and I've got plenty for myself in the truck."
Thomas shrugged with a smile. "They'll lynch me if I let you
leave here before they've had the chance to thank you."
"Oh, hell," Gary said. "At least let me give you something for
it. I brought some extra trading goods of mine so I could barter
with you folks. I'm already going to be paid well for this run, and
you folks need this stuff more than I do..."
"Nonsense!" the Sheriff interrupted. "Emergency aid is one
thing, but this is your property. We can't take it as charity.
Gary, and with no entertainment around here, we've been keeping
ourselves busy just to keep from getting bored. Emma, you have any
of those nice sweaters you've been knitting? Tony, where are those
wooden animals you've been carving? Let's give the man fair value!"
Doug McCoy, Eagle's Mayor was a retired advertising guru, and
on his advice, the townsfolk had branded everything with an Eagle
somewhere on it, to show where it was made. The handmade items would
sell like crazy in the cities that were getting by on basic Imperial
supplies. He briskly traded his boxes of goodies, including recent
reading material, toys, and luxuries, for the goods the town's people
had made. He also agreed to take their long delayed mail to Denver.
By the time they finished trading, dinner was ready. After
they sat down, the Mayor led them in a heartfelt prayer. While they
ate Gary told them about what the country had been going through. He
explained the rise of the Empire and about Robert Black. The Battle
of Cheyenne had been practically in their backyard, but they had
heard nothing about it. When he finished, dinner was nearly over,
and conversations broke out as the townsfolk discussed his news.
Gary found himself in a conversation with the Sheriff. "Aren't you
sort of young to be the top cop around here?" Gary asked.
"I'm 28," Thomas said. "But, yeah, I was just the Deputy until
a month ago. The old Sheriff was killed in a firefight with bandits
while we were building the wall. I was elected to take his place,
and I take that real seriously."
"I can see that," Gary said with a laugh. "You sure looked
serious to me outside the wall. I would have never guessed you
didn't have any bullets."
"Sorry about that," Thomas said. "You can never be too
careful. For example, we couldn't afford to waste the few bullets we
had left, so the gun was just a bluff in case you weren't what you
claimed to be."
Later that night, in his cab, Gary kept warm with the help of a
pretty and willing girl from town. He was a little afraid that in
the morning her relatives would be upset, but there seemed to be no
sign of it as he prepared to head back down the mountain.
The last sight he saw of the town in his rear cameras was the
Imperial flag being raised on the flagpole that formed part of the
barricade [Note #2]. Philosophers had already tried to create
metaphors for the Empire based on Robert's flag. It reminded Gary of
Rorschach tests. What you saw said more about you, than about
anything in the image.
He tried a different route through one of the ghost towns he'd
driven through before. It was very late that night when he had to
slow to a stop. There was a naked, frozen body of a woman sprawled
in the thick snow. She lay in the street's only clear lane between
the abandoned cars. If he drove through, he'd be forced to run over
her. When he considered getting out to move her, his neck hairs
prickled.
His spotlight showed fresh footprints that proved the scene was
staged for his benefit. He was already in the trap, he realized, as
he tried to back up. The road was ice-coated, and there wasn't
enough room to maneuver out of it. He ducked into the back of the
cab and put on his protective clothes, then studied the situation in
detail. He could only see one way out that he was willing to take.
Gary targeted the car that choked off the traffic lane with his
heaviest weapons. When the two mortars and a rocket had blown it up,
he engaged the short-term vertical lift and flew over the burning
wreckage with minimal damage.
The men lying in wait for him opened fire on his rig as he
landed. He could hear the pings of the ricochets off the sides, and
winced as a bullet bounced off his windshield without leaving a mark.
Gary floored it once past the body, and barreled through the rest of
the obstacles on the street. He turned down several side roads,
using the GPS unit and his road tracker to keep him headed out of
town.
At the edge of town, his movement sensors showed him that
targets were approaching from behind. He wasn't too concerned,
because he would soon leave them far behind. As he turned onto the
highway, he saw a yellow glow moving through the roadside trees ahead
of him. Magnifying the image, he saw an unarmed woman in light
clothing waving at him from the tree line. Switching off his
monitor, he could still see her shine as she struggled through the
drifts. She looked afraid to leave the cover of the woods.
Gary turned on the machine guns, and set them to rake the road
behind him. Hoping that would keep the raiders at a distance for a
while, he slid to the right side of the cab. He opened the passenger
side door and shouted at the woman to come on and get in. She
started to fight her way to the truck, but fell just as semiautomatic
gun fire walked over the snowy shoulder of the road. A fine spray of
red across the white snow made him curse.
The trucker grabbed his own guns, special high caliber weapons,
with recoil suppression and extra-large clips. He kicked the door
all the way open, and rolled out with them, firing steadily to cover
his way to the woman. She was still glowing, making a hell of a
target in the dark.
He got between the bandits and the woman. After holstering one
gun, Gary pulled her urgently back to the rig. He felt bullets slam
him hard in the back of his armored duster, but he grimly kept going.
He got to the cab, and hefted the woman in. The gunfire increased in
a last effort to stop them.
Angrily, he turned and faced the shooters squarely and cut
loose until his clips emptied. As he stepped up to the running board
to climb inside, he felt like someone stabbed him in the thigh. His
raised leg wouldn't hold his weight, much less lift him into the cab,
so quickly he changed legs, and with the woman's help, he dragged
himself in.
He panted as he crawled over her to the driver's side, telling
her to close the door as soon as he was clear. He felt the door jar
his boots as he got them in, and he cursed again. Righting himself,
he shut off the auto-guns, let off the brake and mashed the gas,
yelping in pain. His right leg was bleeding heavily, and he couldn't
really use it to get them out of here.
"Aw, God dammit!" Gary muttered. He snatched a quick look at
the girl. She was a blonde. Well, no one was perfect. He hoped he
wasn't going to need to brake, as he shifted his position to use his
left leg on the gas pedal. That made him feel a bit 'off' but it
didn't hurt as much. "We gotta get some distance between us and
them," he snarled. "After that, we can both get patched up. Serves
me right for playing fuckin' Rambo."
"I thought you were heroic," the woman said in a soft, soothing
voice beside him.
"Name's Gary Miller," he said, wiping cold sweat from his eyes.
"It was just something I had to do." He pointed as his K.O.R.S.
license swinging from the review mirror. A dirt stained, but
delicate hand reached out to steady the card as his passenger
examined it.
"'Knights of the Open Road Society,'" she said with a smile he
heard in her voice. "I see. My name is Sondra Eriks."
"You hurt bad?" he asked as he checked the GPS. They were
still too close to stop, and his vision was starting to swim.
"I was just grazed," she said, "and it's closed already. I
think your bullet is still in you." With his peripheral vision, he
could see a faint yellow light flicker beside him, and he heard her
sigh in concern.
"Don't have time to stop yet," he said, fighting the urge to
look where the light came from. "That town is still too close for
comfort."
"They kept me captive for weeks," she said. "They don't have
any way of getting through heavy snow like this truck can. That's
why they wanted to capture it."
"When I get back to Denver the Legion will hear about that
place," Gary growled, "and they'll get what's coming to them." As
snow started to fall from the black skies, he pointed to the back,
and told her where the first aid kit was. She gave him some aspirin,
and pressed a bandage to his wound to staunch the bleeding. He drove
at full speed for another hour, until they were on the east side of
the mountain pass. Gary tried to ignore the wet smell of blood that
lingered in the cab.
Finally, he pulled over by a copse of trees. The snow was
falling heavily enough that he would need to use his instruments to
continue. He was sure that it would to cover their tracks from any
followers. "We're stopping here," he said. "Can you do anything
about that bullet?"
"Yes," Sondra said, "I'm a Healer. You need to lie down, and
you have what I need in your kit." With her help he got back and
laid down on his bed, moaning because of his bruised back.
Carefully, she used scissors to cut off his jeans rather than disturb
his wound any more than necessary. She cleaned her hands and
instruments, and got ready to work on him.
"Hang on," she said, and then quickly pulled off the remaining
patch of denim from his wound. He cursed as she used water, then
antiseptics to clean the wound. "This is going to feel strange," she
said, "but it works." She put her bare hands on either side of the
wound. They started to glow with a soft golden light, and the glow
soon covered her whole body. The pain eased suddenly, like he'd been
given a painkiller. The glow tingled in his bones as she closed her
eyes, and pressed down on his leg.
She was right. Something felt very strange. Gary felt his leg
muscles crawling as if by their own will. She picked up a pair of
tweezers and reached into the hole with it. She twisted it in, and
he felt a painless jolt. He watched as she pulled the bullet out,
then went in again to pull out threads from his jeans.
"That's it," she said. "The bullet didn't fragment, and it
missed any major veins and arteries. Now I can heal you." She laid
her hands on him again. The glow became more intense, and he could
see the swelling reduce, the angry red color fade, and the bullet
hole seal shut.
She cleaned his leg again, and taped on a pad of gauze
bandages. "The skin is still thin," she said. "The bandage is a
precaution, if you don't push yourself, it should stay sealed." She
rubbed her eyes, and fought a yawn. "I'm too tired to continue now,
but I will finish the healing when I've rested." Picking up Gary's
blanket, she covered him and stroked his temple. "You need your
sleep, too," she said, her glow betraying her purpose. He tried to
resist her power, but couldn't. He quickly fell asleep.
Sometime later, he awoke. It was quiet in the cab. Gary
fumbled on his reading light, and saw Sondra asleep on the floor,
using some of his extra bedding. As he sat up, he groaned from the
pain of his leg. Her green eyes opened instantly at the sound and
met his.
"Take it easy, Gary," she said, as she came and sat beside him.
She threw his blanket back and quickly stripped off the bandage.
Before he could complain, she touched his leg and eased the stinging.
The skin covering the injury was smooth and pink, but as she erupted
in golden light, the deep muscle ache faded. When she lifted her
hands again, only the color of the new skin showed he had even been
shot at all.
"There," she said, "I've finished the job. Why don't you
freshen up, and I'll fix us something to eat." He nodded.
He used the facilities and showered as she started breakfast.
When he was done, he gave up the shower to her, while he took over
the cooking. She cleaned up fast he noticed, as she came out
toweling her hair and wearing one of his tee shirts. It clung tight
to her curves, and hung down to her upper thighs. "Nice," he said,
looking at her chest. "You look better in that than I do."
"Thanks," she said. "Is breakfast ready?"
After they ate, she asked when they would be moving out. "When
it stops snowing, probably," he said. He climbed up front and used
the communications gear to get a weather report and forecast. "Looks
like the storm's clearing up tomorrow, so we'll just stay put until
then."
"What are we going to do in the meantime?" she said, with a coy
smile.
"I'm sure we can think of something," he said, going back to
his bunk, and reaching for her to join him. She accepted his
invitation, and sat besides him, pulling his head down for a deep
kiss. There was just a hint of her glow to her mouth that gave her
lips an exotic taste.
Desire swept through him, and he eagerly reached for the hem of
her tee shirt. Sliding it up, the first thing he noticed was that
she wasn't wearing any panties. He already knew she wasn't wearing a
bra. Her skin was silky and warm, and everywhere he touched it,
tingles flowed from her to him. Finding that she was a natural
blonde wasn't surprising at all; being golden was just part of what
she was.
He couldn't wait anymore. He stripped himself nude while she
smiled at him, the shirt still bunched above her hips. He kneeled at
her feet and began to kiss her wherever she was bare. Her thighs and
belly felt his lips and tongue. When he began to push the shirt
higher, his mouth passionately followed.
His kisses traveled to the undersides of her rounded breasts,
and in between, then on to suckle on her pale nipples. She pulled
off the shirt, tossing her hair back, and he stared at her perfection
with awe. Rigid with need, he started to push her backwards, but she
shook her head.
"Don't worry, lover," she said. "We have plenty of time. I'll
make sure that it lasts long enough to satisfy both of us." She
reached for his erection. In her hand, it softened a little, as she
eased the fierce pressure while causing mini-orgasm-like pulses in
it. The feelings were incredible, and he knew that he'd willingly
let her do that to him forever.
They laid down side by side and explored each other, with their
hands and their mouths. He still felt his desire, but she helped him
control it as their bodies entwined, until she urged him to enter
her. His cock felt harder than he could ever remember as he pushed
into her wetness. He was afraid he would cum too soon, but her power
surrounded him like a benediction. She kept him from overloading
into the gulf of orgasm until she was ready for him. Her glow kept
him at the peak or near to it, for what felt like hours.
Her gift must have been the reason he didn't strain his back or
legs, as he endlessly moved with her. He didn't have to ask if she
had cum, and he quickly lost count of her orgasms. If she weren't
giving him pleasure far greater than anything he'd ever felt or
imagined in his life, he might almost have resented her use of his
flesh... Almost.
He gasped as he felt the first hints that she was letting him
reach completion. Renewed, he pounded even harder, encouraged by her
screams that he hurry. Somewhere in the savage thrusts, he started
to cum. He kept up the pace as he surged more than he'd ever before.
Panting, he withdrew and collapsed beside her. He pulled her against
his shoulder as she finished shuddering.
Tired from their pleasures, they dozed together for a while.
It wasn't long before reality intruded on them. Trips to the
bathroom and something to snack on took momentary precedence. It
wasn't even lunch yet before her sly smile and trailing finger down
his side let him know that she definitely wasn't done for the day.
He didn't know whether to cheer or groan.
Gary once read a graphic novel with Healers in it. The main
character confided in his blood brother what it was like to be with
the dark-skinned healer when she used her powers to 'enhance' her
paramour's performance. Shocked, his friend asked if she did THAT
every time. He laughed and said no, because if she did he'd be
unable to walk, let alone be good for anything else [Note #3]. The
trucker now had a good idea of what 'that' was.
He hoped it would be a very long trip back to Iowa, but even
more fervently, he hoped that Sondra wouldn't do THAT every time.


To be Continued...

[Note #1) The American States: CO, CT, DE, IL, IN, IA, KS, KY, ME,
MD, MA, MI, MN, MO, MT, NE, NH, NJ, NY, ND, OH, PA, RI, SD, VT, VA,
WV, WI, and WY. The Canadian Provinces: Alberta, Manitoba,
Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Ontario, Quebec, and Saskatchewan.]

[Note #2) Black, with a large, flattened oval of royal blue in the
center, superimposed with deeply scalloped, golden four pointed star.
The points overlapping the oval at the top, bottom, left and right to
extend slightly into the black.]

[Note #3) Elfquest: Kings of the Broken Wheel #4, WaRP
Graphics.]

July, 1998 -- Darkside: United States of Anarchy, Part 12 of 20.
Series Continues after #20 in Darkside: Imperial States of America.
Archived "://./pub/Authors/WorldoftheDarkside";
Or /~WorldoftheDarkside & greyarchive.

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

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Monday, July 26, 2004

Uk Indian Porn Sex story

Business Studies 12

By Katzmarek

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note.

This is a work of erotic fiction. It may not be used for profit without
the author's express permission in writing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

(Part 12)

It's very cramped in the little bunkroom. Bolted to the hull around the
fold-down beds are bins and cupboards for the trawler's food supplies.
They intrude into the available space, leaving an aisle about a foot wide
for access to the toilet in the bow.

Below the bed on which Jonno sits naked, expectant, is another food
locker upon which webbing is attached for extra stowage. Two leather
straps hang down from the bed to permit the sleeper to secure themselves
during a storm.

I want to make love to Jonno, but its worse in here than a car parked
behind the boat ramps. It's difficult to arrange yourself without
something digging into you or bumping you on the head.

It seems to me the most practical way is to sit on him backwards. My
feet placed in the aisle, leaning a little forward to dodge the top locker
projecting a foot and a half above my head.

I look suspiciously at a stop valve hanging down from the head in front
of me. It's part of the high pressure water system for the fire hoses. If
I get too carried away it'll leave an awful bruise on my head. How Jonno
can move around down here at sea without maiming himself on something is
beyond me.

I turn around and back up, sliding my bottom along his thighs. Jonno
gives a sharp intake of breath and strokes my smooth cheeks. His cock
nestles in my cleft and I give my arse a wiggle. Sliding along his length
my pussy transfers it's slippery lubrication onto his long fat member.

I tease him for a while. He's breathing faster and faster, groaning,
caressing my back, thighs and arse. I reach down to my jeans lying in the
aisle and retrieve the little packet of condoms.

"It's only a three-pack," I smile, handing them to him.

"Tha's alrigh'..." he strains out.

He struggles with the packet for a moment before biting it open with his
teeth. By the time he has it open, I'm laughing at his desperation.

"Don't bite a hole in it!" I caution.

But in the end he's careful and rolls the thing down over himself. I
spread my legs as much as possible and, grabbing the valve for support,
lower myself carefully down onto the head of his cock.

"Alright if I hold this?" I ask him.

"Yes... doesn't matter... no pressure... pump's not going..."

"Kay!"

It's certainly stretching me. I work his head carefully inside me,
lowering myself in stages, working his length in slowly. Jonno tries to
pull me down, anxious to get up me as far as he can.

"Wait! Let me do it!" I tell him.

I move up and down on him, about half to three quarters of the way down.
It's about all I can manage comfortably at the moment. With one hand I
massage my clitoris, trying to increase the stimulation. This way, this
angle, his cock just misses my sweet spot.

It still feels great though, all hard and hot against my velvety walls
now slippery with lubrication.

I know Jonno's instinct is to jam that thing as far up me as he can. I
can feel it in his straining fingers on my hips, itching to grab me and
pull me down.

"You... uh... alright baby?" I ask.

"Yeah... good..."

Breasts bobbing on my chest I start to speed up. I diddle with myself
faster and faster.

"Like... ah... fucking me... oh... babe?"

"Yes... oh yes..." he croaks, "oh God!"

I bob faster on him, holding the valve for support and keeping it away
from my head. My legs ache, I change to a circular movement around his
tool to give myself a little rest. Jonno's arse has slid forward to
balance precariously on the edge of the bed. His arms strain trying to
pull both our weights up to a safer position.

"Let me up," he says urgently, " the metal bar's killing me."

The bed frame has a metal handrail along the edge, it's digging into the
small of his back. I pull up off him and study the problem. Jonno has an
idea born out lust and desperation and takes the initiative. Standing, he
takes me and lays me down over the bottom locker, over the webbing. I'm
just able to pull my feet up onto his shoulders before he's feeding his
cock back inside me.

"Easy now... uh... not too hard..." I instruct him.

Bending over me, he has his legs arranged somehow in the aisle. He's
supporting his body with his arms. I'm practically bent double, however,
and feel vulnerable and exposed. A little tingle of fear courses through
my body, I've no way to control the action, I'm totally at his mercy.

"I want you," he murmurs and thrusts his cock in.

I gasp, partly in fear, partly in surprise at the sudden intrusion.

With one hand he grabs my breast and squeezes around the nipple hard
enough to hurt a little.

"Ow... not so... Ooh..."

He thrusts in again, firmly, pushing the air out of my lungs. I try to
push myself up but can't, I'm well and truly pinned down.

"Not so rough..."

But he's not listening anymore, he's now in charge.

"You're mine..." he whispers.

(How old fashioned!)

And thrusts steadly, pushing himself up further and further.

"No wait... Ooh... uh... yes... uh..."

I can feel his hard pubic bone banging into my clitoris sending sparks
of sensation rippling through my body. My hands grab him by the hips,
feeling the pulsing of his muscles as he pounds away.

An orgasm jolts me, not a rolling series of spasms but a short sharp
explosion of feeling. I wail through clenched teeth, uncaring if the whole
dockside is listening in.

Jonno, though, keeps going right through it. My body stiffens and
squirms but still he doesn't slacken the pace.

"You like me fucking you?"

"Yes... oh yes..." I gasp, "fuck me..."

"You like my... big... hard... cock?" he emphasises the words with
hard thrusts.

"Yes... OH... keep... UH... going..."

I can barely get the words out, I feel so desperate, desperate for his
cock, for his body. He growls, his pounding gets faster and faster, his
face screws up to a mask of animal lust. He puts his hands on my shoulders
to keep me from being driven backwards into the steel wall. My feet slip
off his shoulders and flail in the air as he brings himself to conclusion.

"OH..." he hollers and thrusts his tool hard inside and holds it there,
as if he's trying to impregnate me.

Again he slams me as he releases another load of potential Italians into
the condom. Once more, then a forth time until, with a groan he collapses
on top on me.

My body's spent and numb in places. A dull ache manifests itself
between my shoulder blades where I've apparently been lying on a metal
webbing buckle. I wrap my arms around the sweaty body crushing me. I just
want to hold him regardless of my physical discomfort.

My mind is all confusion mixed with that languid feeling.

'What on earth has just happened here?' I ask myself.

I get the feeling that a door has just been opened.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Afterwards, we dress in silence, smiling to each other in an embarrassed
fashion. I don't think Jonno understands what just happened either.

We decide that a shower is necessary and Jonno suggests the Trawlermen's
Club down the quay. Apparently they have facilities for the fishermen to
use.

"And friends?" I ask.

"If you're with a member."

We smile at the unintentional pun.

After a short walk down the pier, holding hands regardless of the
spectators, we come to an old building. From the lobby, doors lead off to
a smokey bar, upstairs, there are apparently rooms to rent.

"Why didn't we rent one of those?" I ask him, "it'd be a damn sight more
comfortable than the boat."

"Didn't think of it," he replies, "come, the showers are through here."

We go through into the shower area. Each stall has it's own changing
room so there's complete privacy. At least there's no fat fishermen
walking around with towels around their middles.

The place is deserted. Everyone who wanted a shower has had one and are
now propping up the bar across the lobby.

We slip into the end stall and slide the bolt across. Jonno's fetched a
couple of towels and a bar of soap from the locker. You apparently drop
the linen in a laundry basket on the way out.

"Full service!" I tell him.

"Yes, everything's here. After three weeks at sea you want it all laid
on. Afterwards we can get dinner in the bar, if you're interested?"

"What about Mama?"

"I'll call her."

"You'd rather have dinner with me?"

He nods and gives me a kiss. Somehow that seems like the nicest thing
anyone has ever said to me.

We get undressed, again, Jonno insists on undoing my bra. As he adjusts
the water I find the opened packet of condoms in my back pocket and put
them within easy reach, just in case.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When I get home, it's two in the morning and the packet is empty.
Actually, we could have done with a refill.

After soaping and stroking each other in the shower, we made love again,
from behind this time. Jonno was much more more gentle and we stopped and
rested often. We must have spent about three quarters of an hour under
that shower before we finally emerged.

Famished, we went into the bar for dinner. The dining area was off in a
separate area and under 18's were allowed providing they were accompanied
by an adult.

The food was mostly Italian and Greek, reflecting the ethnic backgrounds
of most of the fishermen. Decorating the walls were pictures of Greek
isles, Italian fishing villages and various memorabilia. At the far end
hung the Greek and Italian flags and, curiously the stars and stripes.
Jonno said it was a gift from some sister Greek Association in New York.

Near us on the wall were a couple of old photos. One was of a group of
Greek soldiers with bandoliers draped haphazardly over their shoulders.
The other, an Italian pilot stood proudly by his fighter displaying a row
of 'victories' painted below the cockpit. Underneath, probably scratched
on the negative, were the words, 'C Campanella... MC 202,' in white.

Seeing me looking at them, Jonno says,

"Mario's father... Mario owns two boats... his father was an air
ace... that's his plane. MC 202 is the type of aircraft, Macchi-Castoldi
202 if I remember correctly."

"The Greeks and Italians were on different sides in world war 2, weren't
they?"

"Yes... Mussolini invaded but the Greeks gave him a kicking. They had
to call in the Germans. Down through the last 2000 odd years," he
continues, "we've always been friends and enemies. Like neighbours
everywhere we occasionally get sick of the sight of one another."

The meal was wonderful. Lots of gazing into each other's faces,
oblivious to the other diners. Lot's of touching and holding of hands.
Over icecream and chocolate sauce, Jonno suggested we get a room upstairs
for a while and I readily agreed. That's where we finally ran out of
condoms.

It was around 1.30am when Jonno called a cab for me. We'd been watching
a movie while snuggled up in bed, some silly thing with subtitles. I
didn't want to leave, I'd have been quite happy to have woken up in his
arms, but I knew mum would have a fit.

I had called her earlier to let her know I wasn't going to be home for
dinner and she'd told me not to stay out too late because I had school in
the morning. She'd need a good explanation.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I sleep through the alarm and mum shakes me awake. I mumble that I'm
sick and I'm not going to school today. She shakes her head and leaves me
alone.

When I look at the time again, it's nearly lunch. The house is empty,
both my parents are at work, and I find a note on the kitchen counter.

'Have rung school for you. You'd better have a good excuse when I get
home,' signed, 'mum.'

The phone rings soon after, it's mum.

"Where the hell did you get to. You haven't been drinking have you?"

"No," I say, but she ignores me and continues.

"... because I'm not having my daughter being pulled out of some shitty
bar and brought home at 2 in the morning by the police..."

"I didn't..."

"You are SO grounded my girl. I've tolerated you seeing Nick
Apostolakis and getting up to Christ knows what with him and that crazy
Rachael, but this is the end of it. Do you hear me?"

"Mum, I..."

"You're keeping you legs firmly crossed from now on..."

"MUM!"

"...until you're out of my hair. And I mean it! If you blow your
exams..."

"I won't!"

"... don't expect any help from your father and I. I won't have you
slut yourself around the port..."

"Mum, for Christs sake..."

"...like a common whore, Beatie. You're keeping away from the boats,
from Apostolakis, or you can find somewhere else to live, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yes."

There's no use arguing with her when she's like this. The phone clicks
finally and I feel devastated. I didn't think she'd blow up like this, I
guess it's been building for quite a while.

Angela calls during lunch recess.

"Where are you, they told me you were sick, are you alright?"

"I'm fine..." I tell her what happened.

"Oopsie, I guess you'd better lay low for a while."

"Yeah, I'd better. I was going to anyway until after the exams."

"Yeah, well, take care, I'll ring you later, bye."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I ring Jonno.

"What're you up to?"

"Busy victualling, you?"

I explain about the phone call from mum.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kept you so late."

"I wouldn't have gone, Jonno. I wanted to stay with you."

"I need to get back to you. The tinned stuff has just arrived...
Beatie?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

I found myself repeating the words back to him before he hangs up. I'm
not sure I'm ready for this. It's good in a way that he'll be gone for
three weeks. It'll give me time to think as well as complete my exam
preparation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ANGELA CONTINUES.

I get off the phone after calling Tee at home. It sounds like she's
going very keen on that fisherman guy. I hope it blows over.

It's not that I'd deny her any happiness or anything. No, it's just
that it'll change everything. For one, she'll become less interested in
hanging out with me. Two, I have plans for us, I don't imagine she'd be
interested in setting up a little business with me with her man in tow.
And thirdly, I'm not sure she's picked the right one. I've never met him
but, from what Tee tells me, he's hardly her intellectual equal.

What will they talk about after the fucking's done? Fish? Really, they
don't seem to have much in common besides a taste for sex. Does she really
want to be popping out kids every year and cramming a marriage into the
little time he spends ashore? I guess that'll take care of the
conversation anyway, they'd have no time for anything except a quick fuck
and a wave goodbye.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't have to worry about exams, unlike Tee. I'm not going to go to
University so I just have an internal assessment.

The year is winding down and school will be finished for good. The
seniors, who are sitting exams are starting to drift away on study leave.
For those of us left behind we pretty much please ourselves.

Some of the kids are going off to job interviews, others don't even
bother showing up. Tee is taking study classes, she's really desperate to
get good marks.

It's also party season. Time for old friends to say goodbye to each
other as they go their separate ways. I get lots of invitations but I turn
most of them down. Most will be no more than drinking contests, beach
binges or a big club hop. Some groups have hired out restaurants and
although I can afford it, I'd rather keep my money.

I have quite a healthy bank account now, around $4000. Most of it came
from Jorge and the rest from jobs I've done. I make sure to save
everything I can, I'm not going to live in poverty and struggle like my
mother.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I had an interesting offer from Jorge the other day. On Friday night he
suggested we go on a double date.

I've no idea what he means by that, except a business buddy of his wants
to check out a club with us. He's apparently bringing along a Chinese girl
called Ming, Maung or Mung, something like that.

Why is it always Friday? I guess it's because he has a standing excuse
with his wife that covers him only for that day. I've no idea what it is,
I suppose she thinks he's going out with the boys or something.

I couldn't be married to someone like Jorge, all that deceit and
bullshit! If I was ever to marry and my husband started having affairs and
stuff, well he'd be history, I can tell you.

There was this woman who drove our school bus, like for years. She was
Dutch, I think and her husband was Irish. Anyway I used to sit up the
front and we'd have these really deep conversations. She told me one day
that she knew her husband was having affairs, they'd discussed it! She
said that she didn't mind because she knew he'd always come back to her.
That is SO weird!


-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, it's Friday and I meet the other couple. Jorge picks me up in his
car by the park as usual and the others are already sitting in the back.

I shake hands with them, his name is Mateo, hers is Mok. I immediately
start talking to the girl and Jorge suggests I swap places with Mateo.

Jorge and he start talking in Portugese and I can't understand a word so
I ask Mok about herself.

She's from Vienam, born in a little village by a big river called the
Mekong. Her English is heavily accented but I understand her quite well.

Mok wears more make-up than I would. Around her eyes she has purple
eyeliner, it looks really cool on her. In fact her face looks like it's
been done by a real professional.

She's wearing a low cut cocktail dress, white with a slit up the side.
She hasn't got that much up top and she's really slender and quite short.
I'd have guessed she was about 14 but she tells me she's 26! I'm lousy at
guessing people's ages.

"Did you get here by boat?" I ask.

"Boeing," she replies, smiling embarrassingly.

Well, hell, I don't know. I thought they were ALL boatpeople.

"What do you do?"

"Hostess," she tells me.

Ok, I get it now, probably one of Jorge's employees. I figure Jorge's
pal is visiting from Brazil and asked him to provide a little
entertainment.

"Do you work for Jorge?" I ask her.

"No, Mrs Sally... at Afterhours Club."

Ok, that's Jorge's place alright, she probably things he's just another
customer.

"You hostess too?" she asks.

"Part time," I tell her.

"Ahh... You very pretty... you get many customers?"

"Just the one, " I tell her, "but I'm thinking of expanding."

She giggles at that.

"I think you meet many men, many RICH men. They like western girl...
your hair..." she says pointing, "it's real?"

I nod.

"No bottle," I explain.

"No bottle?" she repeats, "that's nice... very nice."

Around her neck is a pendant with a gold cross. It surprises me a bit,
what would a good Christian girl be doing in this game?

"Are you Catholic?" I ask.

She immediately touches the pendant and nods.

"And you're ok with this?" I ask her.

She looks puzzled.

"With what?"

"With going to church and then going with men."

She still looks confused and shrugs her shoulders. I guess that's all
the answer I'm going to get.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------

We go to this flashy nightclub, it's all polished steel and mirrors,
real retro. All the patrons seemed to be older although some of the women
look pretty young. The music is seventies disco, they even have a bloody
mirror ball, 'cack!'

All these old guys bopping around to the Bee Gees is almost as much as I
can stand. Jorge wants to get up and dance but there's no way I'm joining
that lot. Fortunately he understands and sits with me at the table with my
vodka, lime and lemonade.

Mok's not shy and she and Mateo get up and jig around to 'night fever.'
She moves very well, sort of slinky and real sensual. She kind of teases
Mateo with pouts and jiggles and the guy is practically drooling. She sure
knows her stuff.

We can't talk much, the music is ear-splitting. Those old farts must be
practically deaf by now anyway so I guess they don't care.

It is SO gross in here, the only reason I don't turn and run is Mok.
She just looks so beautiful and sexy sliding around to the cornball music.
When they come back to the table for a rest, she's all glowing from
perspiration. Her hair is a little mussed up and she's breathing heavily
from the dancing and excitement.

"You dance?" she asks.

"NO!" I say emphatically, "not for all the sheep in Australia."

"It's fun!"

"Like cutting yourself shaving your legs!"

She laughs and pulls me up by the arm.

"Come, you and me... let's go!"

I'm protesting all the way as she drags me up towards the dance floor.
The bass rattles my teeth, the screech of Donna Summer 'feeling love' hurts
my eardrums. I try and shut it all out and just focus on the snaking girl
in front of me.

She claps and shakes and urges me on with coquettish expressions and
'come on' eyes. Her enthusiasm is infectious and I try and match her
movements. Mok turns around and steps back, pushing her cute little arse
into me, grabs my hands and pulls them around her waist. The next thing we
are doing this little grinding act and laughing away. I can't see Jorge or
Mateo past the glare but I bet their eyes are popping and they're shifting
uncomfortably in their seats.

When we return, we sit next to our respective dates. Jorge gives me a
big smooch and smiles at me with delight. Mateo gives Mok a civil kiss on
the cheek and says,

"Delightful my dear, thank you,"

... in his South American accent.

They must think we're only putting on a show for their benefit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Afterwards we all go back to Mateo's hotel. It's one of those modern
and expensive one's on the beachfront. He has a suite on the top floor
with beautiful views of the harbour and city. Mateo orders some champagne
and we sit out on the balcony until the Brazilians start complaining about
the cold breeze. I guess if you were born near the equator it would seem
pretty cold here.

Inside are a couple of sofas in an L shape with a long, low table in the
middle. Jorge and I snuggle together on one, Mateo and Mok on the other.

"Are you having a good time?" Jorge asks me.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says then kisses me.

We're soon in a clinch and playing tongues. Jorge's hand finds my tit
and squeezes me through my little top. As he nuzzles my neck, I look
across at Mateo and Mok. He has his hand up the slit in her dress and is
slowly Frenching her. Her hand rests on his upper thigh, almost rubbing
his dick.

Mok shifts onto his lap and he resumes feeling her up. She sort of lap
dances on his dick with her cute buns.

My attention is dragged back as Jorge starts to lift my top. I pull it
over my head and he caresses my breasts over my bra. Mok is giggling as
Mateo pulls up her dress and paws her lace knickers.

I feel a little self-conscious when Jorge pulls off my bra. I know his
friend is watching my boobs bob into view, I can sense his eyes on me as he
strokes Mok's little arse.

Mateo pushes Mok to her feet saying,

"Strip, strip..."

Jorge does the same with me and joins in the chorus. Mok looks around
at me laughing and begins this slinky dance. She winks at me before slowly
sliding the straps of her dress down her arms. She backs into me and we
bump arses, we face each other as Mok wriggles her tush at Mateo.

I start to undo my tight pants, carried along by the moment. Mok's
cocktail dress pools on the floor and she steps out of it, dancing around.
As I lower my pants to the floor I wriggle my butt at Jorge, copying Mok's
routine.

Wearing nothing but panties and a smile, Mok places her hands on my
shoulders and appraises me.

"Nice body," she tells me.

I look at her's also. She has tiny little tits with large erect nipples
that stand out like wheel nuts. They jiggle a little as she moves and they
look real cute. Her tummy is flat and her small arse is entirely in
proportion to the rest of her. By the way her G-string-type panties cut
sharply up, she's obviously trimmed or shaved, not a whisp of pubic hair.

Her skin, though, is so smooth and brown. Not at all like my pale pink
variety. I think she's a real classic Asian beauty.

We back up towards our respective men and jiggle our butts in their
faces some more. Mateo grabs Mok's panties and slides them down with lots
of groping, feeling amd kisses on her butt. She has a little string of
black hair trailing up from her slit.

Jorge jerks down my knickers in one swift movement and I fall backwards
into his lap. A hand immediately cups me between the legs, a thumb presses
down onto my clit. I stretch back giving Jorge access to my breasts and he
obliges by kissing and sucking them.

Mateo has got Mok lying down along the sofa. He's kneeling on the floor
lavishing attention on her little body with hands and tongue. She winks
again at me, which I catch over the top of Jorge's head.

My man meanwhile, is massaging my pussy with his palm and fingers
setting me grinding against his hand. I'm SO ready to fuck!

"Let's go to the bedroom," Mateo announces, pulling Mok up by the hand.

"Come," says Jorge, pushing me up.

"Us too?" I ask him.

"Why not?" he says and I shrug.

This should be interesting!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

We follow Mateo and Mok through to the next room. The bed is large, a
king size I think, and a bedside lamp provides the only illumination.
Mateo guides Mok to the bed and she stretches out on her back, legs spread
a little. She watches casually as Mateo undresses.

I can hear Jorge undoing his clothes behind me. I'm uncertain what to
do, whether I'm supposed to lie beside Mok or what.

Jorge nudges me forward towards the bed. Mok takes my hand and shifts
over to give me room. As I lie beside her she puts my arm around her neck
and smiles. She winks and says,

"You very nice boobies... can I touch?"

"Sure," I answer, not knowing where this is going.

So is all this just a girl/girl setup for the guy's entertainment?
Maybe they get dessert after we've made out. I'm not comfortable about
this at all.

How much did Jorge say he'd pay me for this? He only told me there'd be
a little extra in it.

Jorge's down to his underpants.

"How much are you paying me Jorg'?" I ask him.

"This is not the time to discuss..."

"Yes it is... how much?"

He shrugs,

"Maybe 500?" he says.

"Maybe 6," I tell him.

"Ok, 600 then. You rob me, you bitch," he says, but he's smiling.

I know there's plenty more where that came from.

"Hey!" Mok protests.

"And her?" I ask Jorge.

"She's paid by the hour," Jorge explains.

"It's only fair that you pay her the same," I tell him.

"But I can't do that," he complains," the other girls..."

"What others, how many girls have you got tucked away?"

The Brazilians have a brief conversation in Portugese.

"Ok," says Jorge, eventually, "he'll pay..."

"In advance."

"Really, you don't trust me?"

"Business," I tell him.

He shrugs and retrieves his wallet from his jacket. Actually I've found
these guys like flashing their money, I knew he'd have a big roll on him.

He and Mateo peel off $600 each from their rolls in nice crisp 100's and
pass them to us. Mok is delighted and stares bog-eyed at me and the money.

"You very good," she whispers.

"You've got to know when to negotiate," I explain.

Mateo liked what he was getting and didn't want to miss out.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mok hugs me, giggling playfully. I can feel the twin pricks of her
stiff nipples as she presses herself against my chest.

The bed bounces as Jorge gets on behind me. He immediately starts
stroking my arse, pushing his fingers between my legs. Mok watches Mateo
walk around to her side and as he stands next to her, she holds his prick
in her hand and slowly wanks it.

Jorge nudges me onto my back and kisses me hard on the mouth. His hand
goes back to my pussy and continues to massage me. I reach for his cock
and finger the bulb in the way he likes.

There's a shifting in the bed and looking across I see Mok sitting up
sucking Mateo's cock. He has his hand around her head, guiding the pace.

Jorge wants some of that too and turns onto his back. I get between his
legs and begin to lick his cock and balls. Next to me, Mateo gets on the
bed also and Mok does the same to him. We both work on our men
subconsciously keeping pace with each other until Mok taps me on the
shoulder. I look up,

"Swap?" she says and I grin devilishly.

Mateo is not bad looking and about ten years younger then Jorge.
Anyway, he seems way more fitter then the older guy.

Mok shuffles across behind me, unnecessarily feeling my tit in the
process. I think she genuinely likes girls, that one. I'd better watch
her, I think to myself.

She seizes Jorge's dick with her mouth and furiously sucks him. Jorge
starts from the bed in surprise then flops back, enjoying the treatment.

I hold Mateo's cock in my hand and study it briefly. It's seems a
little bigger than Jorge's, it's still slippery from Mok's ministrations.
As I bend to suck him I feel a hand on my arse, fingering my crack. It can
only be Mok, unless Jorge's arm has grown by a foot.

I glance sideways at her but all her attention is focussed on the
business at hand. An intruding finger finds my hole and begins to work
around my entrance. It tingles nicely, I SO want a dick in there.

"Here!" croaks Jorge.

He wants Mok to turn around into a 69. I look up at Mateo who rolls his
eyes in their direction, I guess he wants the same.

Because Mok's short, she can't squat on Jorge's face and reach his dick
easily. Instead she kneels and rocks back and forth onto his poking tongue
while continuing her cocksucking.

I can manage quite nicely and soon Mateo's lashing at my clit. I'm
really drooling when I feel a hand on my face. Looking up I see Mok
shifting forward while fingering herself. In her other hand is a condom, I
guess she's ready too!
Katzmarek

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