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Message-ID: <28302asstr$978887402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 07 Jan 2001 01:46:30 EST
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Aftermath by Al Steiner - Ch 10 (FF, FFm) 2/2
Date: Sun,  7 Jan 2001 12:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

AFTERMATH
By Al Steiner
CHAPTER 10, Part 2/2
Send all comments to steiner_al@hotmail.com
Previous chapters can be found at www.storiesonline.net



Corporal Tim Hansen was leaning back against one of the sandbags that made
up the defensive bunker on the east side of Auburn.  He was smoking a
cigarette from the dwindling supply and mulling over the idea of trading
Cindy, his third wife, for Sally, Private Horn's first wife.  The cigarette
was somewhat stale with age but the little blasts of nicotine upon his brain
that it provided helped him think.  Granted, Sally was not as attractive as
Cindy was, but she was different.  A man got tired of tearing one off the
same four pieces.  Maybe he could arrange for a temporary swap for a while.
That was an idea that was gaining quiet popularity in town these days; a
kind of try before you buy policy.  He would have to talk to Horn about...

"Aircraft approaching!"  Private Rimms, the young recruit from Grass Valley
on his first assignment suddenly yelled, interrupting his musings.

"What?" Hansen said, his eyes searching high in the sky in the direction he
was looking.  "Did you say aircraft?"

"A helicopter," Rimms said, pointing.  "One o'clock low.  It has something
underneath it!"

Finally Hansen saw it.  It was still very small with distance and there was
no detectable sound as of yet, but it was unmistakably a helicopter.  Slung
beneath it by a rope or cable was a square device of some sort.  "Holy
shit," he said, picking up his radio. He turned to his men.  "Weapons ready
in case its hostile but hold your fire."

The men all picked up their weapons and pointed them in the direction of the
approaching aircraft even though it was still too far away for there to be a
hope of hitting it.

"Command central," Hansen said into his radio, "this is perimeter station 3.
Level one alert!  I repeat, level one alert!"

Barnes himself, hearing the highest level of alert, came immediately on the
radio.  "What do you have Perimeter 3?" he asked, his voice anxious.

"Sir," Hansen said, "this is Corporal Hansen speaking from perimeter 3.  I
have a helicopter approaching my position from the east.  It is a small,
civilian type chopper with a square box of some sort hanging from the bottom
of it by a rope or a cable.  It's probably two miles out at this point,
flying about 2000 feet."

"Confirm a helicopter?" Barnes said, his voice registering shock.

"That is affirmative sir, a helicopter.  It's heading right towards us."


+++++

"Okay, we got something here," Brett said as they approached Auburn.  From
their height they were well above the two protective hills and able to see
into what remained of the town.  To the north was nothing but a floodplain
with a few buildings sticking up out of it.  To the south of the interstate
however, was a good portion of town with the tiny figures of people clearly
visible walking back and forth on the streets.  As of yet they were still
too far out to tell sex or age "I can see people walking around out there."

Jason, peering through the camera lens, zoomed in as close as the optical
setting would allow.  "There's a bunch of them," he said.  "They don't seem
to know we're here yet."

It was then that Brett, whose view was not magnified but who did enjoy the
advantage of taking in everything at once, spotted the defensive
emplacements along the Interstate.  He slowed up and veered the chopper
slightly to the left.  "I've got defenses on top of those hills in front of
us," he told Jason.  "Zoom in on them and tell me what you see.  Be sure to
record."

"Got you," Jason said, swiveling his head that way.  He looked them over,
verbalizing what he was seeing.  "Looks like a sandbagged emplacement on top
of each of those hills.  I got three people in one, two in the other, and
they're all pointing guns at us.  Looks like assault rifles."

"Are they shooting?" Brett asked, bleeding off a little more speed and
angling further to the south.

"Negative, no muzzle flashes.  They're just pointing them."


+++++


Barnes ran outside as fast as he could, accompanied by his staff sergeant
and two of his officers who had been in for a briefing.  Barnes carried a
portable radio set to the command channel and all of them carried automatic
weapons.  The moment they were out in the open they began scanning the sky,
looking for the mysterious helicopter.  They spotted it almost immediately,
at a near hover off to the southeast.

"Listen up everyone," he said to his guards through the radio, all of who
would now, because of the level one alert, be sighting in on the aircraft.
"Hold your fire unless they do something hostile.  I repeat, hold your fire
unless they provoke us.  That helicopter is something we could really use
around here."

No one acknowledged but all the same he knew they had heard him and would
follow his directions.

"Hansen," Barnes said into the radio, "do you have an ID on it yet?"

"I'm looking at it through the binoculars sir," came his voice a moment
later.  "It's a highway patrol helicopter, the same one that used to patrol
around here I think.  It's one of those quiet ones that they came out with a
few years ago.  It's less than six hundred yards from us and I can't hear it
at all.  No external weapons visible.  The thing hanging from the hook
appears to be a steel container of some sort, probably empty based on the
way its swinging back and forth in the wind."

"Copy that," Barnes said.  "Continue to hold your fire and keep an eye on
it.  If they approach I want you to try to wave them down.  Try to get them
to land here."


+++++


"I got people with guns now," Brett said, his eyes tracking tiny figures
running from several of the buildings and taking up defensive positions.
"It looks like they know we're here."

"I'm filming 'em," Jason said, panning and zooming madly.

Brett let the chopper drift a little closer, still staying well clear of the
defensive emplacements but wanting to get better shots of the town.  As soon
as he began to move that way the guards in the bunkers stood up and started
waving at them, making gestures that they should land.

"They're waving us down," Jason said, zooming in on that.

"I see it," Brett said.

"Should we do it?" Jason asked.  "Maybe they've got food we can trade or
something."

"Maybe.  Or maybe they're dangerous.  You can see better than I can, are
those cammies they're wearing?"

"Yes."

"Cammies and assault weapons make me a little nervous," Brett said.  "I'm
gonna skirt this town for now and we'll talk about it with Paul and the
others when we get back.  Keep filming as I go around.  Get as much as you
can, particularly any weapons or other emplacements."

"Okay," Jason said.


+++++


"They're moving off to the south sir," Hansen's voice said a moment later,
unnecessarily since Barnes could clearly see that.  "They ignored our
attempts to wave them in."

"Continue to hold your fire," Barnes said, watching as the tiny helicopter
moved silently away over the canyon.  "They may be back at some point.
Maybe they'll land the next time."

"Continuing to hold fire," was the reply.


+++++


Brett flew slowly over the canyon and its raging waters, staying well clear
of the bridge, which he was surprised to find still standing.  Utilizing his
military mind he examined the terrain and tried to think where HE would put
a bridge emplacement if he were in charge of Auburn defense.  After a
moment's thought he decided on the tall hill on the far side of the bridge,
basically the same place he had put it in Garden Hill.  With that in mind it
took him less than ten seconds to spot their camouflaged lookout bunker.

"I have an emplacement on the big hill on the south side of the canyon, just
east of the bridge," he told Jason.  "Get some shots of it and tell me
what's there."

"Right," Jason said, swinging that way.  It took him a little longer to find
it but finally he did and zoomed in.  "Looks like two people in there," he
said.  "Both have assault weapons that they're pointing at us, both in
cammies."

"Okay," Brett replied, nodding.  "Let's give them a wide berth and then
swing along the south side of the town as we pass.  Keep filming."

Brett flew slowly - less than twenty knots - but it still took them only
three minutes to pass clear of the town of Auburn.  On the way out they were
able to spot and film the bunkers that guarded the west side of the town as
well.

"What do you think?" Jason asked as he lowered the camera and took a few
deep breaths to try to clear the nausea that looking through the viewfinder
while in flight had caused.

"They've got their shit together down there," Brett said, putting on a
little more speed.  "Maybe a little more together than we do.  And they have
a hell of a lot more people and guns than we do too."

"Is that good or bad?"

Brett took his eyes off the view before long enough to look at his
companion.  "It could be either," he said.  "It could be either."


+++++


They reached the Sacramento Valley six minutes later.  The foothills of the
Sierras came to a sudden end and they were looking at brown water stretching
off to the west, north, and south as far as they could see.  The surface of
this water was not smooth by any means.  It was cluttered with floating
debris of all shapes, forms, and sizes, everything from tree branches to
lumber to tin cans.  In addition to the debris there were thousands of human
and animal corpses bobbing around, most near the end of the decomposition
cycle.  The stench was so strong that they could smell it even from 2000
feet in the air.

"Jesus," Jason mumbled, staring downward in awe through the viewfinder.
"Look at all of the bodies."

"About a million people lived in Sacramento County," Brett said.  "About six
hundred thousand in San Joaquin County.  All of them died when the water
came in."

Jason said nothing else, knowing that Brett's wife and daughter were
probably among the floating bodies, although much further to the south, and
that that was preying on his mind.

Brett banked gently to the left, turning them to almost a due south heading.
He stayed out over the water about half a mile from the point where the
foothills rose up out of it.

"How much water is down there?" Jason asked after a few minutes of staring
at it.

"A lot," Brett said, his eyes looking straight ahead.  "The Central Valley
is about four hundred miles long from north to south and about sixty miles
wide.  All of it will be flooded now thanks to the rains draining down out
of the mountains."

"What about on the other side?  Is this the coastline now?"

"The coast mountains will still be poking up," Brett said.  "But everything
on the other side of them will be washed away from the tidal waves I would
think.  San Francisco, Oakland, San Jose, Monterey, they're probably nothing
but mud flats now."

"Christ," Jason said, looking off towards the horizon.  "That one little
comet really did a number on us, didn't it?"

"It really did," he agreed sadly.


+++++


Brett spotted the twin black ribbons of Highway 50 rising out of the water
and into the hills a few minutes later.  He turned back to the east when he
was directly above them, carefully avoiding a radio tower that was
miraculously still standing just on the edge of the Central Sea.  Two miles
from the shoreline was the town of El Dorado Hills, a bedroom community for
the Sacramento region and the town that Paul had advised him to keep an eye
out for.

Like most of the other foothill and mountain communities, most of the
buildings had been flattened by landslides or flooding but some of the town
remained standing.  Like Garden Hill, there were several walled subdivisions
full of expensive houses dotting the landscape.  Unlike Garden Hill, there
was absolutely no sign of people.  El Dorado Hills appeared to have been
abandoned.

At the same time, something about the town was telling Brett that it was
different than the other dead towns they had come across.  He could not put
his finger on just what it was, but his instincts were being jigged by
something.  He kept clear of the actual town but slowed up considerably as
they passed.  "Get a good record of this place," he told Jason.

"Why?" Jason asked.  "There's nothing there.  It's about as empty as can
be."

"Just do it," Brett said.

With a shrug, Jason did it, filming every inch of what was still standing
and then panning out to the surrounding area to get that as well.

Five minutes later they were back over familiar ground. The destroyed town
of Cameron Park loomed ahead of them and beyond it, its rich airport.  Brett
circled several times around the airport, Jason and the troops in the back
keeping a sharp lookout for anything amiss.  They saw nothing but what they
expected to see.  The airport and the surrounding terrain looked the same as
it had two days before.  Brett made the decision to take them down.

He descended slowly until he was hovering right over the fueling area.  Inch
by inch he decreased his altitude until the tank was resting on the ground.
Though he couldn't see this happening, he was able to feel it when forty
pounds of weight was suddenly removed from the aircraft.  Jason, looking out
through his open door, confirmed the touchdown visually.  Brett pulled the
release latch that opened the cargo hook and allowed the rope holding the
tank to fall free.

"It's down and safe," Jason confirmed, bringing his head back in and closing
the door.

"Okay," Brett said.  "Let's take one more pass around and then we'll set it
down.  Be ready for anything down there."

"Ready for anything," Jason repeated.  He looked back behind him at the
three newbies.  "Lock and load guys," he yelled loudly enough for them to
hear over the engine noise.  And then, by example, he flipped the safety off
on his weapon and jacked one into the chamber.


+++++


"Where did that chopper come from?" Barnes asked the assembly of officers in
the room.  "That is the question that we have to address."

It was an hour after the flyby had occurred and Barnes had gathered the two
remaining platoon commanders that he had left in town - Lieutenants Corban
and Smith - for a meeting on the ramifications of what they had seen.

"It came from the east," Corban, a dark haired neo-nazi who thought that
Timothy McVeigh had been framed, said.  "That means Garden Hill, Blue
Canyon, or Truckee."

"No," said Smith, a former naval officer aboard a fast frigate.  "We know
that Garden Hill didn't have a chopper from Bracken's recon trip.  I hardly
think he could have failed to note a helicopter in the town.  That chopper
was based at Cameron Park before the comet.  I bet that's were it came
from."

"But it came from the EAST!" Corban insisted.  "Cameron Park is to the
southwest!"

"So they went north and flew along the canyon before they got to us," Smith
said.  "Just because it flew in from that way doesn't mean that's where it
came from.  Who the hell do you think was flying it if not for the pilot
that flew it before the comet?  It had to have come from Cameron Park!"

"Either way," Barnes said, silencing both of them just by talking, "we have
to find out.  That chopper and its pilot are perhaps the most valuable
things left in this region, more valuable than food even.  We NEED to get
our hands upon it, not just so we can utilize it ourselves but so we can
keep others from utilizing it against us.  We must stop at nothing to get
our hands upon it.  We must sacrifice men to take it if that is necessary
and we must destroy it if we can't take it.

"Our mission for the near future has just changed men.  Once our battalion
returns from Garden Hill we will concentrate all of our efforts upon finding
that machine and its pilot.  Nothing else will take precedence until that is
done."


+++++


"Okay," Jason, the videographer, said as the section with the train cars
started to play.  He was sitting at the front of the conference table next
to the television set that Paul had utilized during Jessica's trial the
previous night.  He held the video camera in his hands and was using the
controls to fast forward and rewind sections for Paul, Brett, and Michelle.
The camera was wired into the TV so that its images could be seen on the
large screen.

It was two hours after the mission had ended, an hour before dinnertime.
The helicopter was sitting safely back in the parking lot outside and the
tank containing 250 gallons of jet fuel - a tank that Brett had neatly
landed atop a wheeled pallet that Paul had built - was resting safely in the
maintenance shed.  After dropping off the tank and refueling from it, Brett
had flown back to Cameron Park alone to pick up the four troops that he had
been forced to leave behind due to weight concerns.  Though absolutely
nothing had happened to Jason, Karen, Cindy, and Ron while they had been
alone and isolated down there, it had been a long hour and half for everyone
concerned.  No one liked to leave their people hanging in the wind in an
isolated place nor did anyone particularly like to be left there.

As a reward for the successful mission Paul had opened up the intoxicant
supply room for the benefit of the returning troops.  Currently Ron, Cindy,
and Karen were utilizing one of the empty storage rooms to play a game of
quarters with tequila shots.   Brett, though he longed to join them, was
abstaining for now so he could give his debriefing and discuss some of the
matters at hand.  He, like everyone else in the room, including Jason, was
sipping from a warm bottle of beer as the video played.  In front of him was
a small pile of marijuana that he had carefully crunched up with a small
pair of scissors.  He was trying to roll a joint but was not having a lot of
luck since it had been more than sixteen years since he had last attempted
such a thing.

"Give me that shit," Michelle said to him after the third paper ripped in
half while he was twisting it.  "Fucking cops don't know how to roll a
decent hooter."  She pulled the pile over to her and began expertly
constructing a fat one.

"I didn't know that you knew how to do that," Brett told her, watching her
fingers go through the motions.

"I'm a writer," she said.  "We all smoke dope.  It's a law.  Where do you
think that some of this shit came from?  I turned over at least an ounce
when we gathered supplies."

Paul, watching the exchange, laughed a little and then turned his attention
back to the television set just as the view began to pan over the train
cars.  There was no sound since all they would have heard would have been
the engine noise and the picture was a little jerky but the zoom worked
admirably.  "You were right Brett, those are grain carriers and the lids are
still on."

"Will the grain still be good though?" Michelle asked after sealing shut her
creation with saliva.  "That's the real question."

"Those containers are relatively airtight," Brett said, "but they're not
vacuum sealed or anything.  There's probably going to be a little mold in
there after all this time.  Maybe even weevils or some other vermin."

"But we should be able to salvage SOME of it, shouldn't we?" Michelle said,
holding out her hand to Paul and miming the act of operating a lighter.

"We should," Paul said, fishing out his Bic disposable and handing it
across.  "And a little mold wouldn't hurt us anyway.  If it comes down to
starving or getting a few bugs in the food, I'll have to go with the bugs
every time."

While Michelle lit up the joint and took a tremendous hit of it, Jason
slowed the speed of the tape as the first of the cargo carriers came into
view.

"They're still locked shut," Brett said, taking the joint as it was passed
to him.  "There could be anything in there, anything at all from canned food
to auto parts to boxes of condoms from the latex factory in Oakland.  We
need to fly some people out there to go down and take a look."  He took a
large hit and then passed the joint on to Jason.  Jason looked at it for a
moment, feeling decidedly strange to be offered such a thing by an adult,
but finally, figuring it was an honor, he took it and sucked some up.

"I agree," Paul said, holding out his hand as the joint came his way.  "I
could rig up some of the vertical rescue supplies from the fire engine so
that people can be lowered down from the helicopter.  A pair of bolt cutters
and channel locks should be enough to get those doors open."

"Do I hear you volunteering for the job?" Brett asked with a smile.

Paul sucked up his hit and put an amused grin upon his face.  He had been
neatly trapped.  He passed the joint back to Michelle and then exhaled a
plume of smoke.  "I guess I walked right into that one, didn't I?  Yeah, I
guess I can do it.  I'm terrified of heights, but I'm the only one who knows
how to operate the ropes and pulleys."

"You're scared of heights?" Jason asked.  "But you're a fireman."

Paul shrugged.  "Most of the time we stay on the ground.  Part of the
academy is that we all have to climb to the top of the ladder-truck aerial.
That's 110 feet up.  They had to threaten to dismiss me before I finally did
it.  And even then I barfed halfway up."

"A fireman who's afraid of heights and a cop who can't roll a joint,"
Michelle said.  "What a strange group we have here."

They all had a laugh and Jason, after taking another hit, advanced the film
to the part where the tanker cars came into view.  Paul had a small orange
book in front of him and he opened it as Jason paused on the first HAZMAT
number: 1203.  He flipped through and found the entry in less than a minute.
"Gasoline," he announced.  "Just like you thought Brett.  What else do we
got?"

"One-nine-nine-three," Brett read as the next group came into view.

"Hang on," Paul said, flipping through a few pages.

"I guess jet fuel would be a little too much to ask for, huh?" Brett said.

"Apparently so," Paul said, putting his finger on the entry.  "It's diesel
fuel, probably from the same refinery.  That could come in handy if we can
find a way to get our hands on a generator of some sort.  If nothing else
it'll keep the fire engine running.  What's next?"

The last three cars were marked with the number 2373, which Paul identified
as diethoxymethane.

"What the hell is that?" Michelle wanted to know.

"Beats me," Paul said.  "Let me look up what the book has on it."  He
flipped through the pages for a few minutes, referencing a different
section.  "It just says it's a flammable liquid with a low flash-point.  It
doesn't say what it's for.  We'll have to do some more research on this
one."

By the time they looked at the last of the cargo carriers and speculated on
just what might be inside of them, the joint was nothing more than a roach
and they were all feeling quite pleasant.  Jason then fast-forwarded the
tape until the footage from Auburn began to come into view.  Of course by
that point every person in town knew that a large community of people had
been found in the neighboring township, but it was quite different to hear
about such a thing and to actually see photographic evidence of it.  Paul
and Michelle watched with rapt attention as the first set of bunkers came
into view.

"You can see," Brett narrated, "that they are fairly well set up in the
defense department.  Those are sandbagged emplacements that are constructed
considerably better than the ones we have.  They could withstand a prolonged
artillery barrage with those.  You'll also note that they all have assault
rifles.  My guess is that there was a gun store in town that they raided
after the impact."

"There was a gun store," Paul said.  "Auburn Bait and Guns.  It was where a
lot of the Garden Hill men used to get their shit."

Brett nodded.  "There was also a sheriff's station in town, was there not?"

"Yes," Paul agreed.  "Auburn is the county seat.  The main office was
there."

"That means that there's a good chance they have some fully automatic
weapons as well if they were able to get to that building before it got
washed away or whatever."

While everyone considered that, the tape rolled on, showing closer views of
the emplacements and then shots from inside the town itself.

"Look there," Paul said, peering at the tiny figures of people moving here
and there through the streets.  "Those are all women walking back and forth.
At least it looks like they are.  You can just make out the long hair and
the uh..." He looked uncomfortably at Michelle.

"The tits?" she said, smiling.

"Uh... yeah," he said, laughing a little at his own embarrassment.  "The
tits.  And do you notice something about them?"

"None of them are carrying guns," Jason said.  "They're all carrying
firewood or water buckets or other things, but none of them are armed."

"Right," Paul said.  "It looks like only the men have the firearms."

They continued to watch the video, rewinding it and fast forwarding it again
and again as they approached and then skirted the town.  They watched as the
troops, reacting to an alarm raised probably by the emplacement crews, came
rushing out into the street to take cover.  All of the troops seemed to be
male.   There was a small margin for error of course, not every figure was
in focus enough to tell, but it certainly appeared that what they suspected
was true.

"So what does that tell us about this place?" Brett asked as Jason halted
the tape again.  "It seems, based on what we see here, that they have a
woman to man ratio that is similar ours.  But there, they are not utilizing
their women as soldiers.  Why not?"

"They don't trust them to do that," Michelle said.  "I don't want to draw
any hard conclusions based on this few minutes of video taken from a mile
away, but it seems to me that, at the very least, we are talking about a
society that is vastly different then what we have.  Are they doing this
just because they have enough men to spare that they don't need to arm up
the women, or are all of those women captives there?  We have no way of
knowing."

"So the question we have to answer about this place," Paul said, "is whether
or not we should attempt to make contact with them.  By initiating contact
we put ourselves at risk of being attacked or captured.  We risk losing
Brett and the helicopter if he should land there like they were inviting him
to do.  Offsetting this risk is the chance that they may have trade goods
that we can swap."

"I don't think that I should land that chopper within reach of them under
any circumstances," Brett said.  "It's too valuable of a commodity to risk
like that.  Someone in that town has a military mind.  Only someone with
training would have been able to set up defenses like we saw.  Someone with
a military mind will realize the potential of a helicopter and will do
anything to get his hands on it.  If we do decide to make contact with them,
and I'm inclined to suggest that we don't, then we should do it in some
other manner besides just landing there."

"I can see your point," Paul said, lighting a cigarette.  "We don't risk
Brett or the chopper no matter what.  But should we establish ties with
Auburn?  They are a relative rarity in these days - a functioning society
that is managing to keep itself fed - so should we reveal our existence to
them?"

"I don't think we should," Michelle said.  "I see more danger signs by
looking at this video than I do encouraging ones.  They have more population
than we do and they're better armed.  We have some evidence that women are
not treated the same as men.  I think that for the time being we should just
leave well enough alone."

"My feelings exactly," Brett echoed.  "That place gave me the creeps.  I
think we should avoid contact with them until such time as it becomes
absolutely necessary.  And in the meantime, we should do more recon of them
to try and get a better feel for the threat they represent."

"How would you do more recon?" Paul wanted to know.  "If they keep seeing
the chopper fly over them every day, they're going to start getting
suspicious.   If they are a threat and they start perceiving us as one, then
it won't be long before they start trying to set a trap for you.  How easy
would it be to shoot you down?"

"Quite easy with automatic weapons as long as I got into range," Brett said.
"But I would suggest that Auburn never see that helicopter again if we can
help it.  I can do recon after dark."

"After dark?" Michelle said.  "You can't fly that thing at night!  How would
you see where you're going?"

"With the FLIR pod," he said.  "It's not a very effective tool for
navigation but if I know the direction to Auburn and keep the aircraft above
the altitude of any hills or peaks between here and there, I can get close
enough to get us some good shots in infrared.  They won't be photographic
quality of course, but if I can hover just outside of detection range,
they'll be detailed enough to tell the difference between males and females,
to tell what sorts of guns they have and to identify occupied buildings
versus unoccupied ones.  And if they don't know I'm there we'll get a much
better picture of what their normal routines are."

"That sounds awfully dangerous," Paul said.  Michelle nodded
enthusiastically.

"Well, it's not quite as safe as flying on a commercial airliner, I'll give
you that, but I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think I could pull it
off.  There are old pilots and bold pilots but no old bold pilots.  That's
what I was taught when I learned this business and that's the motto I've
always followed.  This is a little bold but it's not stupid.  It's
necessary."

"I suppose," Paul said doubtfully.  "You're the expert, not me."

"I can do it," he said.  "I'll plan on doing that first thing after we solve
the fuel storage problem."

Michelle obviously had her own thoughts about this but she kept them to
herself for the moment.  Jason had some thoughts as well - he wanted to go
along on that mission - but he did the same.

With the Auburn discussion run into the ground they turned the video back on
and watched the view of the Sacramento Valley for a few minutes.  Jason had
done an admirable job of capturing the essence of what they had seen.  First
he had filmed a long-range shot showing the water stretching off into the
distance.  Then he had filmed close-ups of the debris and the bodies bobbing
in the water.  Everyone was strangely silent as they saw what had become of
some of the most fertile land on earth.

The last shots on the video were the views of the abandoned town of El
Dorado Hills.  Jason moved to turn the camera off but Brett told him to let
it run.

"It's just an abandoned town," Jason said.  "What's the big deal?"

"There's something not right there," Brett said.  "I don't know what it is,
but El Dorado Hills is different than Colfax and Meadow Vista."

"Different how?" Paul asked as the picture showed the walled subdivisions
with the neat, geometric rows of houses.

Brett shook his head, trying to lock in on the fleeting sensation at the tip
of his brain.  There were winding, paved streets, dying lawns, the
occasional flooded swimming pool.  A few parks dotted the landscape here and
there and there were a few vehicles sitting in some of the driveways.  Aside
from that, there was nothing.  "I don't know," he repeated.  "But there's
something."

It was Michelle who figured it out.  She had been staring at the screen as
intently as everyone else had when suddenly it came to her.  "There's no
bodies," she said.  "That's what's different.  In Meadow Vista and Colfax
there were bodies lying around.  There aren't any down there!"

"That's it," Brett said, the light bulb going on.  "There aren't any dead
there!  Why not?"

Now that it had been pointed out, everyone wondered why they hadn't seen it
before.  Not everyone seemed to feel that this was significant however.

"So there's no bodies?" Jason asked.  "What's the big deal about that?"

"I must say," Paul said, "that I don't really see the significance."

"It means that the fate of El Dorado Hills, whatever that might be, is
different than that of the other towns," Michelle said.  "What happened to
the people there?  Did they all die inside their houses?  That's not what
happened in the other towns."

"We don't know what happened in the other towns," Paul pointed out.  "Why
did the people in Meadow Vista and Colfax die outside.  If you were starving
to death and about to succumb, why would you leave your house?  Why wouldn't
you just stay inside?  You can't make some kind of inference about El Dorado
Hills just because you don't see dead bodies there."

The discussion went on for quite some time, until they heard people starting
to fill the gym downstairs for dinner.  They reached no firm conclusions on
the matter.  It was only later, as he was walking home for the evening with
Chrissie and Michelle, his mind starting to come out of the marijuana haze,
that Brett realized what it was about the town that was really jigging him.
Except for the lack of people on the streets, El Dorado Hills looked eerily
the same as Garden Hill.  It looked like a town that was occupied and being
cared for to some degree.



+++++


Sherrie Philo, the woman who had been shot in the leg during the battle, was
still staying in the same room that she had been originally brought to, the
room that Dale had died in.  The reasoning behind this was simple.  Sherrie
couldn't walk or get out of bed.  Paul had installed a traction splint - a
bulky, metal device designed to keep the broken ends of the femur from
slipping or grating together - on her shattered leg.  Since Sherrie required
around the clock care in order to urinate or take care of other bodily
functions, the community center was the logical place for her to stay since
there was someone there twenty-four hours of every day.

Paul took care of most of the medical matters for Sherrie.  He checked the
status of her leg every few days and saw to it that she took her blood
thinner pills.  He gave her codeine tablets or Tylenol when she was in pain
and Valium or Prozac tablets when she was in the midst of a severe
depression (as she was prone to these days).  The other aspects of her care,
bathing, dressing, and of course giving and retrieving bedpans, fell mostly
upon Janet, Paul's wife.  She would often come up to check on her during her
shifts in the day care center downstairs and would arrange to have one of
the female community center guards take care of this during the night.

Both Paul and Janet were gratified to see that Sherrie had finished her
dinner this night, something that she had never done during the first few
weeks of her convalescence but that was becoming more frequent as time went
on.

"Good girl," Paul told her, grabbing a seat next to her and sitting down.
"I'm glad you're finally listening to me about maintaining your
nourishment."

"I'm finally getting my appetite back," she said softly.  She looked up at
Paul.  "Why are your eyes so red?" she asked him.

"Never mind," Paul said with a chuckle.  "It's time for your calcium pill."

"He was helping the helicopter crew celebrate their mission," Janet said,
giving him a wifely look.  "It seems they thought a little herbal
stimulation would help them debrief."

Sherrie giggled a little, something else that she was starting to do with
increasing frequency.  "I guess your appetite's been pretty good today too,
huh?"

"He DID seem to enjoy his dinner quite a bit," Janet said.

"All right, all right," Paul said, opening the vitamin bottle he carried and
fishing one out.  "Enough nagging.  Let's get the pill down, shall we?"

"I guess we shall," Sherrie said, taking it and washing it down with the
warm, powdered lemonade that she had with dinner.

"So how's the leg today?"  Paul asked her, turning serious.  "You think
those bone ends are coming together yet?"

"God, I hope so," she said.  Paul had promised her that the moment he was
confident the bone was knitting together he would remove the traction splint
and replace it with a rigid thigh cast of some sort so that she could walk
with the aid of crutches.  "You can't imagine how anxious I am to go out and
see the rain again.  You can't imagine how much of a luxury it is to pee in
a toilet."

"Ahh, the little things in life," Paul said, making her grin.  "Let's take a
look at it."

Sherrie pulled back the sheet that covered her, revealing one of the plain
cotton nightgowns that she was perpetually dressed in.  Janet helped her
change them whenever she bathed her.  The hem of it was just above her knees
but Paul, without hesitation or embarrassment, grabbed hold of it and hiked
it up to her upper thighs.  Sherrie's right leg, the uninjured one, was very
nicely shaped and toned.  Before the comet she had been the stereotypical
trophy wife to a gynecologist and had worked out obsessively in order to
maintain the shape that had allowed her to snag such a catch in the first
place.  Since her injury she had been exercising that leg three times a day
by wrapping a bunjie cord around her foot and pushing against the resistance
to keep it from atrophying from disuse.  The skin was pale of course, as was
everyone's these days in the absence of both sunlight and tanning salons,
but it was clean shaven and smooth, the work of Janet and her razor.  The
left leg was a sharp contrast.  It was surrounded by the stainless steel
braces of the splint which held it in place and the muscle tone was slack
and soft.  A large circular scar marred the top of the thigh marking the
spot where the .30 caliber bullet she had been shot with had exited.  Paul
had sewn the wound shut the first day using thread and a needle that he had
sterilized with boiling water.  Though it had kept her from bleeding or
getting a staph infection, it had not healed up very prettily.

Paul placed his hand on the scar, feeling the warmth of her flesh.  He
probed gently with his fingers, trying to palpate the femur beneath.  As he
concentrated on the sensations beneath his hand, his eyes could not help but
notice that Sherrie's legs were slightly apart and that she was not wearing
any panties.  The dark shadow of her black pubic hair was plainly visible
beneath the hem of her robe.  He looked away uncomfortably, trying to
concentrate his vision on her leg.  Though he had seen her several times in
all of her glory during the first few days of her injury, it was different
somehow now that she was healing and fully awake.

"What do you think?"  Sherrie asked him, pretending not to notice where his
eyes had just been.

"It seems like you got one continuous bone under there," he said.  "The
question is whether its knitted together enough that it won't just snap
again once I take off the splint.  I think that another three or four days
here should do it."

"Three or four days?" she whined.  "My god, I'm going crazy in here."

"If I let you go too early and you re-break that femur, you're going to end
up right back in here for another month," he told her.  "And there's no
telling whether or not it will grow back together as well the next time."

"Better safe than sorry," Janet said.

"I suppose," Sherrie sighed.  She reached up to pull her nightgown back down
now that the exam was over.  Paul, unable to help himself, cast one more
look at her pubic hair before she hid it.  Again Sherrie noticed but
pretended not to.

The three of them talked for a few minutes, mostly about the helicopter
mission and the discovery of other survivors in Auburn, things that Sherrie
had heard rumor of but had not had confirmed as of yet.  She asked if Brett
or anyone in the helicopter had seen Jessica during the mission.

"No," Paul said, looking at her a little suspiciously.  Sherrie had once
been a member of Jessica's inner circle, both before and after the comet.
"By the time he took off she was off the Interstate.  We don't know where
she is now.  All we know is that she hasn't tried to come back into town."

Sherrie nodded slowly.  "She was insane towards the end," she told them.
"Absolutely insane.  When I heard those gunshots yesterday morning I knew it
was her doing it, I just KNEW.  Thank god she didn't hurt anyone."

"She hurt plenty of people," Paul said.  "She's a big part of the reason
that you got shot."

"No," Sherrie said, shaking her head strenuously.  "She didn't get me shot.
I got me shot.  Don't try to push my stupidity off on her.  I'm the one that
jumped up and tried to run, I'm the one who is to blame for me laying here."

Paul and Janet both looked at her for a moment, both surprised by the
ferocity of her tone.

"I'm sorry," Sherrie said, seeing their looks.  "I've had plenty of time to
do soul searching since I've been laying in here, more time than I ever
wanted.  At first I blamed everyone for what happened to me.  I blamed
Brett, I blamed Chrissie, I blamed Jessica, I blamed the comet, I blamed
God, I blamed everyone and everything but myself."  She sighed.  "But none
of that is true.  I made a decision out there.  I chose to get up and run
while people were shooting at us.  I panicked and now I'm paying the
consequences.  I'm not the same person that did that.  I was a shallow bitch
before, looking down my nose on everyone because it made me feel better.  I
used to look down on both of you, did you know that?  I used to think I was
better than you because I had been married to a doctor and you Janet were
nothing but a teacher who had to work for a living and you Paul were nothing
but a civil servant living off tax dollars."

"Sherrie," Janet said, "you don't have to..."

"I do," she interrupted.  "Just let me say this."

"Okay," she said softly.

"I was wrong about both of you.  You two thought me a snob, and I was one.
You two had no reason to care about me or like me and I'm sure that you
didn't.  But you two have taken care of me from the moment I was dragged in
here.  Paul, you've fought to keep me alive, Janet, you've helped me pee and
helped me wipe my butt.  You two did this even though I was a bitch to you
both, even though I sided with Jessica against you at every turn, even
though I've given you no reason whatsoever to give a damn about me."

"It's what we do Sherrie," Paul said, patting her leg gently.  "Despite how
we felt about you, you're still a human being.  Did you think we were going
to let you die if we could prevent it?"

"You don't understand," she said, a tear running down her face.  "I wouldn't
have done the same for you.  I wouldn't have come in here and emptied
bedpans if you had been the one shot Janet.  I wouldn't have come up here
every hour and made sure you were still breathing if it had been you Paul.
My way was to let someone else handle it.  Your way is to do it.  I was
sadly wrong about who was better than whom."

"Nobody's better than anyone around here," Paul told her.  "We're all just
people and that's how everyone should treat each other."

"I'm learning that now," she said.  "I'm learning it.  And I want to thank
both of you for everything you've done for me.  You two have literally saved
my life."

Paul leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.  "It seems like it was a life
worth saving, wasn't it?"


+++++


Jason, not used to imbibing in alcohol and marijuana, particularly not after
a stressful mission into potentially hostile territory, was dozing on the
couch early that evening.  He was bundled up in a blanket, sleeping
peacefully four feet from the blazing fireplace when the sound of the front
door opening awoke him.  He yawned and looked at his watch, seeing that it
was 6:30.  Stacy was home right at her usual time.  He smiled as he sat up,
feeling his penis stiffen up in anticipation of a later sexual escapade.
Since their first night together nearly a month before, he had learned much
about the ways of pleasing a woman and had come to crave that pregnant body
like a drug.  Fortunately the raging hormones in Stacy made her just as
horny and allowed her to keep up with the considerable demand.  There was
hardly a night that went by that they didn't make love at least once.

"Jase," she called from the formal living room, "are you here?"

"I'm here," he answered, putting his feet on the floor and standing up.  He
headed towards the front door, intending to meet her halfway to give her his
customary hug and kiss of greeting.

When he got there however, he discovered that she was not alone.  Tina, her
working companion from the cafeteria, was standing next to her, hanging her
rain slicker on one of the hooks.

"Hi Jase," Stacy said, walking over and giving him a kiss on the mouth.  The
tip of her tongue slid out and touched his for just an instant.  "Tina
wanted to stop by and visit for a bit.  I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," Jason said politely, although he really wanted to be alone
with his woman right now.  "How are you doing Tina?"

"I'm fine," she said with a slight giggle.  She seemed to be nervous for
some reason although Jason could not think of a reason why this should be.

Stacy waddled her way into the living room, Jason and Tina following behind
her.  He lit up a few lamps and candles, brightening the room up while the
two women sat on either end of the small couch.  Jason, after arranging the
candles for best effect, started to sit down in the easy chair across from
them.

"No, no," Stacy said, patting the cushion next to her.  "Come sit with me.
I've missed you today.  The only time I got to see you was at dinner."

He hesitated for a minute, looking doubtfully at the cramped space between
the two women.  What was going on here?  Finally, after another prompting
from Stacy, he walked over and sat down where he was told.  He pushed
himself as closely to Stacy as he could but still his leg was touching
Tina's.  She looked at him a little nervously but otherwise didn't seem to
mind.

They conversed lightly for a little bit, Jason rehashing the tale of his
trip that day in greater detail than he had shared with Stacy at dinner that
night.  He rested his hand gently upon Stacy's bulging stomach as he talked,
occasionally feeling the strange sensation of the baby kicking at him.  Both
women seemed fascinated by the story and they often interrupted him to ask
questions.

"You see what he's doing out there while we're stuck in here making dinner
and washing dishes?" Stacy asked.  Her breasts rubbed softly against his
shoulder as she said this, seemingly accidentally.

"I should have signed up for guard detail," Tina said.  "Maybe I still will.
I'm taking your sister's gun class tomorrow.  Maybe I'll do well enough to
get a recommendation.  I heard that Maggie got one from her.  If Maggie can
do it, so can I."

"I'm sure you can," Jason said politely, wondering for the tenth or eleventh
time just what Tina was doing here.  Though the two women were close to each
other, as coworkers in unpleasant assignments tended to get, she had never
visited during the evening hours before.  The former elementary school
cafeteria worker was somewhat of a loner in town, rarely seen outside of the
kitchen.

"Do you think Tina's pretty?" Stacy asked a few minutes later.

"Pretty?" Jason said slowly, doubtfully.  His hesitation was not because she
wasn't pretty.  A light haired blonde in her mid-twenties, she was slightly
chubby in a big-boned way but far from fat.  Her face was very pretty with
smooth, well-defined cheeks and eyes that were even bluer than Chrissie's.
And she had enormous breasts, a double D cup at least.  His hesitation was
instead because it seemed a loaded question, full of potential pitfalls.
Why would Stacy ask him something like that?  Was it just a casual comment
or was it something more?

"Yes," Stacy said, rubbing her breast against him again.  "She seems to
think that men don't like her.  I keep trying to tell her that she's wrong."

"Stace," Tina said, blushing, obviously embarrassed.  "You don't have to
bring that up."

"I'm just asking a man's opinion Tina," Stacy said.  "I think you've got a
cute figure.  And I'd kill for those boobs.  I mean, look at the size of
them.  Mine are only half that size and I'm pregnant.  Aren't those a nice
rack Jase?"

Now Jason was the one embarrassed.  "They're uh... very uh... nice," he
stammered.

"Isn't he cute when he blushes?" Stacy asked her friend.  "That's why I love
him so much."  She shifted her gaze to Jason again.  "Do you know that Tina
hasn't been laid in more than five years?"

Jason almost choked that time.  "Uh... no...  I didn't know that," he
replied.

"It's true," Stacy said sadly.  "How could you stand it Tina?  It must be
maddening."

"It's not easy," Tina said softly.

"She hasn't dated since she broke up with her husband five years ago," Stacy
explained.  "She told me all of this the other day and I was just shocked.
I mean, I can't stand it if I have to go eight days without you.  When you
went to go get that chopper, I almost went insane."

"You get used to doing without it after awhile," Tina told her.

"But you always yearn for it, don't you?" Stacy asked.

"Oh yes," Tina agreed.  "That never goes away."

Jason was now very confused.  Why were these two women talking like this?
Why were they sitting here telling him how long Tina had been without sex
and asking him to rate her breasts?

"Tina and I have been talking a lot over the last few days," Stacy said,
leaning in a little closer to him, close enough for him to smell her skin.
"And while we were talking, I had kind of... well... an idea."

"An idea?" Jason asked, trembling a little.

"Stace," Tina cut in.  "Maybe this is a bad..."

"Hush," Stacy told her, offering a wink.  She turned back to Jason.  "I
thought that maybe you would be able to help her out a little bit with
her... problem."

"Help her out?" he croaked.

"She needs some dick," Stacy said, dropping her hand down into Jason's lap.
"And you just happen to have one.  I don't mind sharing it with her."

"Sh... sh... share?" he asked.  Though his mind was having a difficult time
processing what he was being told, the object they were discussing
understood loud and clear.  It began to stiffen up under Stacy's hand.

 "Only if you want to," she said.  She smiled, giving him a squeeze.  "I can
feel that you're giving some serious thought to it."

"But Stacy..." he started.

"I really don't mind Jason," she told him, kissing his ear.  "And if
everyone likes it, maybe Tina can move in here with us.  We can be like your
sister and Brett and Michelle.  That's the wave of the future in this town I
think so we might as well accept it."

"It's okay if you don't want to," Tina told him.  She seemed to be upset.
"I can't believe I let myself get talked into this."

"He wants to," Stacy said, giving his cock a few more squeezes through his
pants.  "I can tell.  Don't you baby?"

"Well... uh..." he stuttered, his mind reeling.  Was he really being offered
the oppurtunity to sleep with Tina?  Was Stacy the one offering it to him?
Was this a dream?

"Well... uh... what?" Stacy asked.

"Uh sure," he finally spit out.  "I mean, if everyone's really down with it,
that is."

Stacy smiled, kissing him softly on the lips.  "We're down with it," she
told him.  "Aren't we Tina?"

Her eyes nervously took in the bulge in Jason's jeans.  She licked her lips
a few times.  "I'm down with it," she finally said.  "If you're sure you
don't mind Stace.  I mean, this is so... weird."

"It's a weird life these days," Stacy said.  "Let me show you his cock Tina.
You'll like it."

Jason felt her hands popping open the buttons on his pants one by one.
Though like any fourteen-year-old he was very bashful about his private
parts, he allowed her to open him up and push his pants and underwear down.
He lifted his hips to facilitate this process.  His erection popped out into
the light, sticking upward, the head swollen and ready for action.  Tina
gasped a little as she saw it.

"Isn't it beautiful?"  Stacy asked, stroking it softly a few times with her
fingers.

"Yes," Tina breathed, her eyes shining.

"Touch it," Stacy told her.  "Go ahead.  Play with it a little."

Hesitantly, she reached out her hand and moved it towards him.  She stopped
for a second just inches away and then, after a few moments of thought,
grasped him in her fingers.  Jason moaned at the unfamiliar touch upon him.
He could not believe he was actually sitting on his couch letting another
woman touch him while Stacy encouraged it.

"Jack him up and down a little," Stacy said, her own breathing starting to
get heavy.  Jason could see that her nipples were hard beneath her shirt.

Tina did as she was told, sliding her hand up and down across his tender
flesh, feeling him and stroking him.  Soon he began to lift and lower his
hips in response to her.

"Suck him Tina," Stacy said.  "Put him in your mouth.  You know you want
to."

Tina moaned a little, her eyes completely glazed over with lust now.  She
lowered her blonde head into his lap and he felt her wet lips and tongue
surrounding his cock.  She sucked softly at first, her hand continuing to
move up and down upon him.

"Ohhh," Jason said, looking at her head as it bobbed up and down.  Stacy
began to kiss his neck as Tina sucked.  The sensation of two mouths upon him
at once was almost more than he could bear.

"Feel her titties," Stacy whispered into his ear.  "Squeeze them."

He reached out his hands and did as he was told, grabbing those massive
mammaries through her shirt.  They were soft and pliable and very heavy.
Even through her clothing he could tell that her nipples were enormous.  She
twisted her chest into him, pushing them harder into his hands.  Her mouth
began to move faster upon his cock.

Now that the line had been crossed, things moved a little quicker.  Tina
raised her head from his lap a few minutes later and whipped off her shirt,
tossing it to the floor.  Her breasts were contained in a large white bra
with thick shoulder straps.  She reached behind her and undid the clasp,
setting them free.  They sagged a little with the sheer weight but this did
not detract from the aesthetic value of them in the least.  Her nipples were
indeed huge, the diameter of dimes and protruding nearly three-quarters of
an inch from the areola.

"Suck them," Tina told Jason, pushing them towards his face.  "It's been so
long since they've been sucked."

He leaned forward, breaking free of Stacy, who had still been kissing his
neck, and put his mouth upon the nearest one.  He slurped at the nipple
hungrily, tonguing it and sucking it.  Tina groaned out her approval, her
hand finding the back of his neck to encourage him to suck on.  Stacy
stroked his back with her hands as he did this.

"Show her what I taught you," Stacy suggested excitedly.  "Show her how you
really make her feel good."

Jason switched to the other breast for a bit and then, heading Stacy's
advice, began to kiss his way downward across the pale flesh of her stomach.
Her skin there was unlined - Tina had never given birth - and soft and
smooth as silk.  He licked and nibbled at her in various spots, raising
goosebumps on her.  When he got to her navel he ran his tongue all around it
while his hands began working the buttons on her pants.  Soon they were open
and he tugged on them.  She raised up and he pulled them from her, sliding
them down her legs and off, leaving her only in panties that were soaked at
the crotch.  He pulled these down a moment later and found himself staring
at her blonde bush.  It was very thick, much thicker than Stacy's, and the
odor was much stronger and deeper.

He pushed her legs apart and then buried his face right in the middle of
that hairy wetness, his tongue stabbing up inside of her.  She moaned loudly
and pushed her crotch harder into him.  He licked her up and down, tasting
her tart juices and then slid two fingers inside of her slit, just as Stacy
had taught him.  Soon, when she was bucking up and down, he was tonguing her
large clit, making her cry out even more.

It took a long time before she came.  His tongue was starting to cramp and
his lips were going numb before he was able to pull that first orgasm from
her.  But when it did release, it came with explosive force.  Her legs
closed around his head, squeezing him almost painfully and nearly cutting
off his respiration.  Her pelvis jerked up and down with such force that he
had to struggle to keep his mouth upon her clit.

When she finally came down from it, he was dizzy and out of breath, his
mouth struggling with several stray hairs that had dislodged.  Before he had
a chance to do anything about this Tina's hands were in his armpits, pulling
him upward atop her nakedness.  Those massive tits pushed into his chest and
his bare thighs pushed against her larger ones.

"Fuck me," she panted at him, kissing him and shoving her tongue in his
mouth.  She seemed to get off on tasting her own juices, just like Stacy
did.  "Come on," she said, breaking the kiss and squirming beneath him.  "I
NEED it.  Fuck me."

"Yeah," Stacy said next to them.  "Fuck her.  Fuck her good."

Jason grasped his cock in his hands and put it against her dripping slit.
He pushed forward and sank into her in one stroke.  All three of them gasped
in pleasure at the penetration.  As he began to thrust in and out of her, as
her legs wrapped around him, he looked over for a moment and saw that Stacy
had pushed her maternity pants down and was rubbing her red-haired pussy
furiously as she watched them.

"Fuck her baby," she told Jason breathlessly.  "Fuck her good.  Fill her
up."

Thanks to his frequent couplings with Stacy he had learned a certain degree
of control over his orgasm.  That was fortunate because it took every ounce
of willpower he had to keep thrusting long enough for Tina to come again.
Watching his woman masturbate next to him while he fucked someone else was
the kinkiest, most erotic thing that he had ever imagined.  As soon as
Tina's body began to jerk and shudder beneath him, that control slipped and
he came explosively within her.

When he rolled off of her a minute later, leaving her sweaty and dripping on
the couch, Stacy grabbed him and pulled him over to her.  She had taken off
all of her clothes and her swollen, pregnant body was on complete display
for both of them to see.

"Now its my turn," Stacy said, pushing him back into the couch.

While Tina and Jason both watched in astonishment, she dropped her head into
his lap and sucked his cock, which was half erect and still wet with Tina's
juices, into her mouth.  It took less than three minutes of her sucking and
licking him clean before he was back up to a complete erection.  She then
assumed one of her favorite positions.  She sat on his lap, her back to his
chest, as if he were an easy chair.  This kept her large stomach from
intruding upon the act.  She reached between her legs and put him against
her pussy, sinking down upon him.  He began to push and pull within her,
using strokes that he knew she liked, pushing her quickly towards her own
orgasm.

Tina watched them as they copulated less than two feet from her, still
amazed that she had participated in such a perversion, still amazed that her
friend Stacy had actually sucked on Jason's cock just seconds after it had
plopped free of her own pussy.  She had never been so turned on in her life.
She opened her legs widely, putting one on the back of the couch, the other
on the floor, displaying her sex for them.  Continuing to fuck each other,
they both looked at her, watching as her hands went to her slit and began to
rub.

Jason would come two more times that night, once in Stacy's pussy, once in
Tina's sucking mouth.  Though the two women both tasted each other on
Jason's cock, neither one touched the other in any way.  But before they
fell into bed exhausted and sore, Jason snoring between them, both had
thought about it.



Al Steiner
1-6-01
Chapter 11 to follow

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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