by Jessy Cruise
Skip smiled. "I understand that," he said. "And that's why I'm going to drop you a little bit earlier than normal and let you make a few preparations to slow your pursuers down a bit."
"Preparations?"
"Preparations," Skip said. He then explained what he meant. "Steve will be in to show you just how you're going to set these things up. Now we only have a limited number of them, so use them wisely, but use them."
"How do you deal with it, Christine?" Maggie asked her squad leader about an hour after the briefing had ended. "Killing people I mean."
They were in the community bathing room, both of them stripped down to their bare skin, washing their filthy bodies with washrags and cold water from the tub. Both were shivering lightly, their flesh a series of goose pimples from the chilly air, but all the same the desire to get the mud from their bodies overrode their desire to be warm.
"I don't look at them as people," Christine told her. "I mean, deep down inside, I know they are, but I don't look at them that way, I just can't. They're targets for me to take down. They're things that need to be destroyed in order to keep me from being destroyed. That's how I justify killing them."
Maggie nodded doubtfully, not saying anything. She dipped her washrag and scrubbed a little at a stubborn stain near her upper thigh.
"Are you feeling guilty for it?" Christine asked gently.
"Well..." she said, hesitating, "in a way."
"In a way?"
"I enjoyed killing those people," she said. "I liked it. When I was looking through that scope today and saw those bullets hitting those fuckers, I liked it. That's what I feel guilty about - liking killing someone. I wonder if it means that I'm some sort of... you know?"
"Psycho?" Christine offered, scrubbing at the slight swelling of her pregnant stomach. How had dirt managed to get there?
"Yes," Maggie admitted. "It scares me that I might... well... want to keep doing it after all this is over."
"You won't," Christine assured her. "I think you're just justifying what we have to do in your mind. We weren't raised to kill people, Mags. And now that we have to do it we have to come up with some sort of way to... what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Rationalize it?"
"Right," Christine said with a smile. "You have to rationalize it."
Maggie nodded, feeling a little better. "There's something else that it does," she said.
"What's that?"
She blushed. "Oh... never mind. It's nothing."
"What?" Christine asked, suspecting what her friend was talking about. "You can tell me."
Maggie giggled a little nervously. "Well... this is embarrassing but... to tell you the truth... it makes me... well..."
Christine smiled knowingly. "Horny?" she suggested.
Maggie let out a laugh, blushing deeper. "Yes," she admitted. "I know it's strange and it probably means I'm deranged, but I've never been so horny in all my life. Why would killing people do that to me?"
"It's not killing people that does it," Christine told her. "It's the combat itself. It's happened every time I've been in a gunfight, starting with the first time Skip, Jack, and I were attacked on the trail before we even got here. Skip told me that it's a normal reaction to surviving a life-threatening situation."
"Really?" she said, relieved at the thought that what she was going through might be normal.
"Oh God yes," Christine said. "Didn't you get it after we had the gunfight with those hunter assholes before? I boffed the living shit out of Skip after that. That was the day we made up from the fight we'd had over Missy. And oh boy did we make up. I would've jumped him tonight as well but he's upstairs trying to get some sleep for his night mission."
"Now that you mention it," Maggie said with a giggle, "I was rather randy after that. Only I didn't have anyone to... you know. I do seem to remember going home and having a little session with my best friend that night though."
"Your best friend?" Christine asked, not getting her.
Maggie smiled. "You have a man so you wouldn't know about it," she said. "My long, cylindrical best friend that runs off of batteries."
Now it was Christine's turn to blush. "I see," she said.
"May you never have to rely on such a friend all the time," Maggie told her. "So what I'm getting out of this conversation is that I shouldn't feel guilty about going home right now and breaking him out of the drawer. I think he's going to earn his batteries tonight."
Christine giggled, still blushing and a little embarrassed, but also suffering greatly from the affliction that she had just described. She found herself looking at Maggie's nude body, at the graceful curves of her form. Maggie, a natural blonde like herself, did not have a natural set of breasts on her. They were the size of softballs and stood out firmly from her chest, a clear valley between them. Her surgeon had done a good job of it. There were no scars visible. Maggie's nipples were standing firmly erect, poking out into the moist, chilly air. Whether it was from the arousal she had been speaking of or from the cold - or perhaps a combination of both - Christine did not know. She did know that she had a powerful urge to touch those breasts however. Since she and Paula had begun sharing certain marital liberties with each other, Christine had discovered a latent attraction for members of her own sex.
"Well," Christine said, taking a step closer to her, close enough to invade the envelope of Maggie's personal space, "I'm not sure you should do that. We are in the midst of a battery shortage here you know."
"What?" Maggie said a little uncomfortable, wanting to take a step backward but prevented from this by the bathtub behind her.
"What I mean," Christine said, stepping even closer, so that the tips of her own breasts were only inches away from Maggie's, "is that if there's another way to take care of these things, shouldn't we conserve our supplies?"
"Uh... uh... another way?" Maggie gasped, now backed completely up against the tub. She could feel the cold porcelain against the backs of her thighs. What was Christine doing? She wasn't really suggesting... that, was she?
"Let me help you, Mags," Christine said, reaching out and putting her hands on those breasts. They felt firm to the touch, almost rubbery. Not as nice as Paula's natural boobs, but not bad either.
" Christine," Maggie protested shakily, trying not to notice how nice it felt to have someone touching her body - it had been so long, "Maybe I've given you the wrong impression about me, but..."
"Shhh," Christine said, her mind spinning with impulsive lust now. She did not consider what she was doing to be cheating on her husband, although had it been Skip doing what she was, she would've been furious. She just needed some relief and here, in front of her, was someone who could maybe provide it for her. That wasn't so bad, was it? It wasn't like she was trying this with another man. She lowered her head and took Maggie's nipple into her mouth, sucking it and tonguing it.
" Christine, oh God, don't do this to me," Maggie cried, feeling tingles running through her body at the feel of a pair of lips on her nipple. The fact that they were a girl's lips seemed to add a perverse thrill to the experience.
Christine didn't listen. The fact that Maggie had not physically pushed her away in disgust spoke volumes. She switched her mouth to the other breast and began suckling it as well. Her hands slid down Maggie's stomach and into her thick nest of curly blonde hair. Her fingers sought out and quickly found the target she was after. Maggie's lips were already swollen and wet, ready for penetration. Christine provided this. She slid her middle finger up into her friend's body, pushing and pulling it in and out until the juices began to drip onto her hand.
"Oh God," Maggie moaned, her hips involuntarily pushing against the invading hand. She knew what she was doing was wrong, was a perversion, but it felt so good. She couldn't bring herself to stop her. Instead, she found her hands resting on Christine's bare back, actually encouraging her, actually pulling her closer.
"Isn't this better than a dildo?" Christine whispered, adding another finge
r to Maggie's wet pussy and increasing the force of her penetrations. She freed her mouth from the nipple and moved it up to Maggie's neck instead. She began to kiss and suck the soft flesh, giving little bites here and there, tasting the salt, smelling the soap.
"Yes," Maggie heard herself saying. "Oh yes, Christine, but..."
"No buts," Christine whispered, putting her lips against Maggie's and kissing her. Maggie resisted at first until Christine began to lick sensuously at her mouth with her tongue. Gradually Maggie allowed her mouth to open and her own tongue to peek out. The tips touched, just for an instant at first and then for a long, swirling session of saliva exchange.
Maggie gave in, pulling Christine even tighter against her, feeling the touch of their breasts in intimate contact. She never would have thought that the feel of another woman against her would be so... so... sexy, so soft.
They kissed and sucked each other's tongues, Maggie's hands straying down and experimenting with the exploration of Christine's pregnancy swollen breasts. Christine, meanwhile, continued to slide her two fingers in and out of Maggie's body, angling her thumb upward to caress the swollen clit with each stroke.
"Oh, Christine," Maggie breathed when the kiss broke for a moment, "that feels so good. It's been too long since anyone's touched me there."
Christine smiled, giving her upper lip a long, teasing suck. "You ain't felt nothing yet," she said, pulling her hand free. "Sit on the edge of the tub."
"What?" Maggie groaned, distressed at the sudden loss of sensation just as she was starting to feel the approach of orgasm.
"Do it," Christine commanded, taking a half step back.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her nervousness returning.
"I think you know what I'm going to do," Christine said. "Now sit on the tub."
Trembling with desire, fear, and guilt, Maggie sat on the edge of the tub. She let her long, sexy legs fall apart, opening herself. Slowly Christine sank to her knees on the ground before her, bringing her face right to the level of Maggie's crotch. Her pubic hair was very thick, especially for a blonde, but her lips were swollen and open, an angry red in color.
"I've never done anything like this before," Maggie said weakly, shivering at the look of lust in her young friend's eyes.
"That's okay," Christine whispered to her. "I have."
She leaned forward and put her lips against Maggie's inviting sex. She gave no build-up or teasing strokes first. Things had already gone beyond that. She simply started licking her, running her tongue up and down, inhaling the aroma, tasting the tartness of her juices.
"Ooooh," Maggie squealed as she felt the tongue upon her most sensitive parts. She jumped a little, nearly falling backward into the tub at the sheer pleasure of the sensation. She had been licked several times in her life - mostly by her late husband -but never had she felt anything like this. Never had she dreamed it could feel this good. Christine lapped her up and down and drove her tongue in and out like a small penis. She rubbed against her throbbing clit with her nose. She seemed to revel in the taste and smell of her pussy.
"Mmmmm," Christine moaned as she captured that clit between her lips and began to suck on it. She couldn't wait to feel Maggie come in her mouth.
The sucking on her clit drove Maggie wild. She began to gyrate up and down, back and forth, making it difficult for Christine to keep her mouth where it belonged. She grabbed her legs by the thighs and held them tightly to keep her in one place. It was all over in less than a minute from that point. Maggie felt it building in her stomach and then spreading through her entire being. She screamed into the air as she peaked. When Christine finally raised her head out of her crotch she was a panting, sweaty mess.
"Feel better?" Christine asked, standing up and kissing her lightly on the lips.
"Yes," Maggie sighed, already starting to feel guilt at what she had just done.
"Now I need a little relief," she said, kissing her again, touching her breasts again.
" Christine," she said, "I don't think I can... I mean, I'm not really..."
"It's okay," Christine told her. "It takes a while to work up to that. I know. Just give me your fingers."
"What?"
"Your fingers," she repeated, taking her left hand. "Put them inside of me. I'll do the rest."
Maggie felt her hand being put down against Christine's dripping sex. The lips were slippery against her fingers.
"Put them in," Christine moaned, feeling the first touch. "Please?"
Maggie slid first one and then two fingers into that tightness, again feeling a strange sense of excitement and forbiddeness at the act. She felt her clutching at them.
"Yes," Christine said, starting to gyrate her hips against them. "Now kiss me."
"Huh?"
"Kiss me while I fuck your hand," she said.
They kissed, their tongues once more intertwining and Christine thrust her body against Maggie's hand, pushing and pulling the digits in and out of her body. She ground her clit against the heel of her palm, pushing hard enough to cause abrasions to her skin from the friction. Soon she was panting into Maggie's mouth as the sensation of relief began to course through her.
"Did you get some sleep?" Skip asked Jack as he flew more than two thousand feet above Interstate 80 that night. It was just after 10:00 PM and they were five minutes into their flight. "I noticed you left the community center sometime after I sacked out."
"I uh... had some things to take care of at home," Jack said vaguely. "I got about an hour or so though."
"Uh huh," Skip said knowingly. He had a pretty good idea what Jack's "things to take care of at home" had been. His young companion had not had a chance to bathe yet and the smell of sexual musk was radiating off of him quite strongly. "It must be nice to be fifteen."
"Well, you know how it is," he said, a little embarrassed.
"Oh believe me, I do. I would've had some things to take care of at home as well if I weren't so damn tired. And be sure to thank your wives for that triple strength coffee they made for us. I don't think I would've been able to fly if it wasn't for that."
"I'll let them know," he said. "Coming up on a left curve, about thirty degrees."
"Thirty degrees left," Skip repeated. "Banking."
The flight out to the target area did not take very long. Since he knew the exact location of the enemy formation - or at least within a kilometer or so - Skip did not have to bother with creeping forward at twenty to thirty knots and keeping an eye out for them. Instead, he blasted right along at nearly sixty knots of forward airspeed - about as fast as he dared go under the blind conditions he was flying under - and soon he was over the top of the mudfall the Auburnites were currently negotiating around. His altitude was as high as he dared go without risking icing problems. This served the duel purpose of giving Jack a wider field of view and keeping their engine noise from alerting the enemy if they happened to get too close to them.
Once at the mudfall they continued on for another mile and a half and then turned to the south. Now Skip slowed his airspeed up to creeping range as he homed in on the enemy camp. Jack kept him advised of the proper route with the FLIR scope. It was not a difficult task for the young man to do. After all of the drop-off and pick-up runs that they had made over the course of the day, he damn near had the landscape memorized.
"Okay," he told Skip after about five minutes of southward flight, "we're coming up on the area where we last saw them. Slow up a little more and maintain course."
"Slowing up," Skip said, doing so, "and maintaining heading of 174."
They continued on for another minute or so before Jack began to spot the glow of warm bodies on his scope. "I'm starting to pick 'em up now," he said. "There's a cluster of them at eleven o'clock, about a mile or so out."
"Eleven o'clock," Skip repeated. "Should I edge out to the west a little more?"
"Yeah," Jack said. "Turn about twenty degrees right and slow up some more. I'll find the thickest concentration o
f them and we'll hit there."
"Sounds like a plan," Skip told him.
Jack had him make two passes about a mile to the west of the camped out Auburnites just so he could get a good idea of their layout. Like the previous night, they were mostly bunched together in several tight groups, arranged probably by squads and platoons. There were a few guards walking back and forth on both ends and in the middle of the group. Several of the guards could be seen to be smoking - which made bright flares on the display. Jack reported all of this verbally to Skip as he spotted it and filmed all of it with the videotape installed in the FLIR system.
"So what do you think?" Skip asked after the second pass. "You ready to wake them up a little?"
Jack sighed, having a sudden attack of nerves now that the time had come. He fought it down, successfully for the most part. "I'm ready."
"Lead me in."
Jack had him circle way around, almost out over the canyon itself, and then double back from the south, so that he was flying over the mudfall itself. He then had him reduce altitude to less than eight hundred feet above the surface of the mud. When they were directly across from the largest concentration of sleeping bagged glows on the display, he had him turn back to the west and hover.
"Come off target ninety degrees to the left," Jack directed him as he put a magazine into the mounted M-16 and jacked the first round into the chamber. "Climb up another two hundred feet or so and maintain a due south heading. There's no obstacles higher than that between here and the canyon."
"Gotcha," Skip said, watching his instruments carefully. "I'm ready when you are."
"Okay," Jack said, gripping the weapon and adjusting it on its mount. "Start the firing run."
As the helicopter moved forward at twenty knots, Jack watched his display. The rows of sleeping men didn't stir, nor did the team of guards beyond them seem to raise any sort of alarm. He watched them get bigger and bigger on the display as they grew closer.
"Almost there," he said slowly. "Almost there... in range!"
He opened fire, watching the tracers arc out on the display. The first burst slammed into the sleeping soldiers almost perfectly in the middle of their group. He began to rake his fire back and forth across them. He knew he was scoring hits upon them but, as had happened with the first daylight attack, their reactions were pitifully slow. His clip was completely empty and Skip was turning off target before any of the sleeping figures that had not been hit started to get up. A few shots came their way from the guards on duty but they were not even close to being on target.