When she began bucking under him, Sean pressed her down into into the sleeping bag, keeping her pinned while he jammed it in harder. He came with a huge shudder, driving deep into her pussy before releasing his second load of the night.
Laura bit down on the side of her hand to stifle her screams as she climaxed, her body going stiff. He could feel her pussy shuddering around his cock, milking the last of his cum before he collapsed on top of her.
* * * *
Sean and Laura dozed for a while, lying tumbled and sweaty together on the sleeping bag. The candle was getting low when he woke. With a groan, Sean slid off her and lay on his side. He had an arm and leg thrown over her body, not willing to let her get up yet. He figured they had time for another round before he’d have to let Laura slink back to Rich’s bed.
He rested beside her for a while, running his fingertips over her soft, smooth skin. His touch was making goosebumps rise all along her body, and he watched how she shivered in her sleep. Her soft moans as Sean slipped a hand between her thighs make his cock start hardening again.
Laura spread her legs, and Sean began fingering between her folds. Her clit was small, a hard nub under his probing fingers. He rubbed and pressed it, feeling her getting wetter. When he slid a finger inside her pussy, Sean looked up to see Laura watching him through slitted lids.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Laura just nodded. She was breathing hard through her nose while he played with her cunt, prodding her clit and moving his finger in and out of her hole.
“Does Rich do this for you?” Sean didn’t know why he kept bringing up her husband. Maybe it was to remind her where she was, and why. He’d known Rich didn’t please her when they had sex, so showing her how good she could feel was cruel in a way. How many times would they be able to have a night like this? Probably not many.
Sean moved until he was between Laura’s legs, still working her clit. He leaned forward and sucked at her nipples before starting to kiss and lick his way down her belly. By the time he’d begun kissing the sensitive skin on her inner thighs, she’d figured out where he was going.
Laura dropped her knees to the side as far as she could, giving him a wide view of her tight, pink pussy. Sean dipped his head and ran his tongue between her folds before pulling back and kissing her thighs again.
Her disappointment was plain from the groan that escaped her lips. Sean ignored it. She’d beg for it, he knew. He’d never been with a woman that didn’t like to get licked and sucked down there.
He turned his attention to the other thigh, kissing and blowing air on the delicate flesh. Laura thrust her hips up, towards his face. He slid his tongue across her clit again, then moved on the the opposite thigh.
“Please, Sean.” Laura ran her fingers into his hair, shoving his head back towards her pussy.
“Please what?”
“Fuck me with your mouth. Please?”
Sean smiled. He’d be willing to bet Rich never got anywhere near his wife’s cunt with anything other than that wimpy dick. Judging from her reaction, Sean was the first man to ride her hard, and the first to go down on her.
Laura was nearly in tears when Sean finally bent down and got to work on her pussy. He spread her lips open with his thumbs and set to licking and sucking the tender flesh between her legs. He drew her clit between his teeth, nipping it just a little. Laura responded by shoving his head down harder while bucking up towards him.
When she came, Laura let go of his head with one hand, which she shoved into her mouth to stifle the scream of pleasure she couldn’t hold in. Her back arched, lifting her half-off the sleeping bag. Sean held her close by pulling her thighs down, never letting up as his tongue thrust into her wet pussy.
She’d collapsed in a shuddering heap when he got up on his knees. Laura didn’t protest when Sean turned her over and got her kneeling with her ass up in the air.
She tried to wiggle away when he gripped her ass and spread her cheeks, but he held her tight and pulled her closer.
“You can’t get me all horny and expect me to not to fuck you again,” Sean said as he rested the head of his cock against her rear entrance. He pushed a little, feeling the resistance. “Unless you want me to go in somewhere else?”
Laura shook her head. “No, Sean. I’ve never…”
That figured. Pity he didn’t have time to get her ready. Going in her virgin ass would blow her mind, but they only had a little time before the rest of the group would starting waking up. He could force it, but that wasn’t his way. There were plenty of willing and experienced women he could do that with. Now he would have to be satisfied to ride her pussy hard again.
Rode hard and put up wet, he snorted quietly. If Rich wanted to fuck his wife in the morning, he’d find her in no condition to service his limp dick. Not after Sean was done with her.
“Relax, baby. Maybe we’ll get to that next time.”
Sean slid his cock down until he was pressed against her wet cunt again. He could feel her muscles tighten at what she knew was coming. She would be sore, but she wasn’t saying no so he pushed into her until he was all the way in.
Laura cried out a little as he entered her, but she didn’t pull away any more. Sean began thrusting, taking his time and letting her settle into his rhythm. He reached around and began playing with her clit, curling over her back to reach it.
She sighed deeply as he rubbed between her folds. He was moving faster as he got into it, not as rough as he’d been the first time yet, but still going at it hard.
With one hand holding Laura against him as he thrust, and the other plying her clit, it wasn’t long before she was ready to come again. Sean really let her have it then, pulling only partway out of her pussy before going all the way in again, working her like a piston.
Sean was fucking her as hard now as he had their first time, and she was moaning and gasping with pleasure. She might not be used to getting reamed like this, but it was obvious she liked it. That’s what women really wanted, a man to take control and to fuck them like a battering ram, no matter how much they said otherwise.
The noise of waking people in other areas of the store was getting louder by the time Sean was ready to climax. Laura pressed her face into his pillow to muffle her cries as she came for him again. He rammed hard for a last time, as far as he could get, and spurted his load deep inside her again, growling with his own pleasure.
They collapsed onto the sleeping bag, Sean still on top of her. He kissed her ear as they worked to catch their breath.
“You were awesome, babe. The best fuck I’ve had in a long time. And you suck cock like nobody’s business. But it’s time for you to go, before your husband wakes up.”
Laura groaned at the thought of Rich waking up to find her gone. Sean moved off her, letting her get up and search for the discarded nightgown. She pulled it over her head, sitting beside him on the sleeping bag. She didn’t look at him, lying there naked while she dressed.
Sean watched her, enjoying what was probably his last look at that magnificent body. What he’d told her was the truth. She’d been a great fuck, and with some time and a little instruction he knew she would be someone he could enjoy bedding for a long time to come.
But she had a husband, and while he might not use her in the ways Sean had, might not make her scream when she came, but he was still her husband. Sean had no intention of coming between them for anything more than what he’d just gotten.
When she couldn’t delay things anymore, Laura turned to look at Sean.
“Can we do this again sometime?”
Sean shook his head. “I don’t think so, babe. Rich already has his eye on me, and if he thought I was fucking his wife, my life wouldn’t be worth as much as the biters outside. I guess we’ll just have to treasure the memory.”
Laura nodded, fighting back tears. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”
She got up and slipped away into the dark store, shoulders slumped.
Her
mouth might have said no, and she might regret what they’d done together, but somehow Sean had the feeling that her pussy wouldn’t let her forget the hard use it had gotten this night. He’d bet she was even now thinking about how she could be with him again, and what other things he could do to her.
It was a pleasant thought to occupy him as he slipped into sleep.
THE END
GIVE HER SHELTER
The newspaper ad was as plain—and as sane-sounding—as he could make it. It was set to run for three days, in all the local editions, and with any luck there would be enough people showing up for his lecture to make it worth while.
Dave had become a convert to the prepper life-style only a year before. He’d spent most of his time hanging out on liberal web sites and forums, doing his bit for the environment and wildlife in his spare time. He supported equal rights, and gay marriage, and was generally in the life-is-good camp.
Until the day a fellow message board member started talking about some government advisory to keep duct tape, plastic and a three day supply of food and water on had. For emergencies. Not like he’d ever need them, because FEMA is on the ball, but everyone should do their part to ease the strain on the agency. In case something big does happen.
And that got Dave to thinking. If FEMA was really that great, then why would he need to worry about being able to tape himself securely inside his home? Why would he need extra eyeglasses and any medications he took? Why would he need an emergency radio, extra blankets, and flashlights? What kind of advice was that, anyway?
Dave wondered if there might be something to all that bird flu pandemic chatter, which up to that point he had dismissed as unfounded paranoia, and he began searching the Internet for more information. It wasn’t long before he found the survivalist boards.
He thought most of the men and women who posted on these forums were slightly off-center, but the more he read, the more their arguments made sense. If the government couldn’t take care of everybody, could they take care of anybody?
Then Hurricane Katrina gave him his answer, showing just how disorganized and incompetent his government really was, and a prepper was born. In the following years, Dave began scrimping and saving, putting every spare dime into food storage, water barrels and silver coins. He searched the surrounding countryside for a small farm, or at least a few good acres that he could retreat to when the shit hit the fan.
SHTF. It wasn’t the only acronym Dave picked up. His favorite was TEOTWAWKI, which he pronounced when reading it as “tea-oh-twocky”. He learned to recognize the signs of an impending attack by the zombie horde, which actually wasn’t about the walking dead but concerned the masses of unprepared he was warned to be on guard against.
Which brought him to his other huge expense: guns and ammo. Dave couldn’t afford to amass very much, especially after his hours at the factory were cut back—damned outsourcing, those bastard owners—but he bought what he could, and hoped that being out in the country would provide a buffer.
After all, the sites said, most of the unprepared were welfare slouches who wouldn’t know what to do, and would conveniently die off waiting for the damned government to swoop in and help them.
What they needed, Dave opined, was a hand up, rather than a hand out. Or a swift kick in the ass.
It was partially his reduced circumstances that led Dave to the idea that he should look for others like himself, those who believed the end of civilization was coming, but who were also in need of help. He figured he had the land, his share of supplies, and all the books, tools and materials it would take to build a strong community.
All he needed was the right kind of people.
Which led to the ad.
* * * *
A week after the ad ran, Dave set up his stuff in the meeting room of his local library branch. The facility was free, and he’d reserved the largest room available, hoping for an overflow crowd. He wanted the largest number of applicants possible, so he wouldn’t have to settle for just anybody who bothered to show up.
Dave had gone through everything he could find about building a stable prepper community. He’d asked questions on the forums, winnowed down the suggestions until he was pretty sure he had a questionnaire that would weed out the lazy, the incompetent, the slackers and freeloaders.
He was setting up the projector screen when the first people showed up. Dave nodded at them and kept on working. He had some videos to show, short pieces about the state of the world and of the country, best guesses by experts about what was likely to happen, and how soon they could expect it.
By the time he’d gotten everything done and turned back to survey his audience, he was pleased to see that he had at least seventy-five prospective members. Most were men, but he’d accounted for that. They would have wives and children at home, most likely, and if not, Dave figured he could always get enough single women to be potential mates to any unattached males after things went to shit. He might have to be less picky about who he let in, but that was a problem for another day.
Now it was time to get the meeting started.
Dave rapped on the lectern provided by the library and called the meeting to order. He gave the stragglers by the snacks at the far side of the room time to get seats, and cleared his throat.
“I’d like to welcome you all, and thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to come and hear me out. My name is Dave Robertson, and I am a prepper.”
There were chuckles and outright guffaws at that, and one guy from near the back hollered out “Hello, Dave!”. Dave let the laughter roll on for a bit, grinning at the well-known response given at support group meetings.
Finally he raised a hand for silence. They only had two hours in the room, and he’d have to clean up before locking the door and dropping off the key. He knew the librarian on duty would be watching like a hawk, and judging from her response to the big poster he’d placed outside the door, she wasn’t a big fan of the survival movement.
“Okay. I organized this meeting for a couple of reasons. The main one, was to meet locals who shared my beliefs and interests in preparing for natural disasters and any fallout from things like the collapse of the economic system.
“I think we are edging closer to a total failure of the dollar,” Dave went on, watching heads nodding in agreement. So far, so good. “That is, if we don’t get hit by nuclear bombs or a global pandemic.”
“Preach it, brother,” a man in the front row shouted.
The group was getting into his speech, and Dave knew he’d gathered a good crowd.
“One thing I’ve learned over the last few years is that I can’t depend on the government to always be there. Or even if they are there, to be competent enough to do their jobs. We all saw that during Katrina.”
More head-nodding and growls of disapproval.
“I’ve got some film here, some of it laying out what I see as the failures of the current system, and believe me, it’s not just one party or branch of government involved. Just about everybody in Washington is out for themselves at the expense of the little guy. They take and take, and we get shafted. So, let’s watch the first segment, and after that we can discuss what we can do to protect ourselves.”
Dave cued the DVD equipment provided by the library, and started the first clip. He lowered the lights and stepped aside so everybody could have a clear view of the front of the room.
He retreated to a corner, where he could watch their reactions. He’d carefully chosen the films he was showing, went over ever chart and table, wanting to push his ideas out in the clearest possible way. The reactions of his audience would help him decide what to do about Part Two of his plan.
* * * *
The first few meetings of Dave’s prepper group went well, better than he had expected, to be honest. A few folks had dropped out after realizing there wouldn’t be an easy way to get ready for TEOTWAWKI—the end of the world as we know it, in prepper shorthand—and that there wouldn’t be any free
rides.
The preppers discussed setting up smaller groups to help those who lived close to each other, working on getting materials for water filtration systems ready to use, food storage, gas and diesel storage, and what to have on hand for medical supplies.
This step was part of Dave’s second reason for calling the meeting, and he was able to talk with every member and make his list of the people he wanted to be in his own “cell”, as some of the preppers called the communities that were growing and becoming set.
People who had guns, but little else, were joining up with those who had other things, but few guns. Skill sets were discussed, and with Dave’s help some classes were set up on weekends to help those who couldn’t shoot, or cook, or live without modern conveniences.
All in all, Dave was pretty darned proud of what he’d accomplished in just a couple of months. He felt better about his own preps, and having a network of like-minded people ready to watch his back made him more relaxed.
The group had watched as the situation in the world teetered on disaster, listened to reports about climate change that scared the pants off them, and argued endlessly about the futility of voting. The ones who had stayed past the first couple of meetings were friends now, and greeted each other whenever they were out and about in the local area.
Dave looked forward to the meetings, and he was slowly winnowing out his list of those he thought would be good for his own group. He’d said little about the farm, not wanting to be overrun if the shit really did hit the fan. He wanted to be sure he was getting the people he needed, while making sure the others had their own places to hole up.
This is How it Ended Page 5