Mission of Mercy

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 AND ABOVE]

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Tommy said: "face it Rex, you lost." And so the drama began...

Tommy was kind of my enemy in high school. We had both come from humble backgrounds, yet he always seemed to come up with 'scratch' when he needed it. It was strange, too, because I was living alone with my divorced mom while he was living alone with no parents. He had been held back a year so he was 19 to my 18. His parents had kicked him to the curb at 18, so now he was hanging with some real questionable types.

Angela was the common ground for us. She was a vision of beauty. Magnum cum laude, she had one of those grade point averages with those weird bonus points that put my 3.5 GPA (real, no bonus 'BS') to shame. I think hers was 6.9—seriously.

Anyway, she was smart, beautiful, from a 'good family' (whatever that means), etc. She was a trophy girlfriend in high school and would make a fine trophy wife. The girl of my dreams, but like many a young lady of that age, her favor could be won by simple material outlays. Put differently, Tommy always came up with the corsage, tux, limo, expensive dinner, front row tickets, well everything. He swept her off her feet, to the chagrin of her parents, who were much wiser about things than she.

And so it came to pass that upon graduation, we went our separate ways. I went to the finest school you never heard of, UC-Davis, while they fell off the map. I mean that literally. As in the days of old, with a flat earth and an edge to avoid, they disappeared.

Two years later:

I was about half way thru my degree in agricultural science, horticulture, when my mom sent me as an email attachment a letter she received from Angela's parents.

They had lost track of Angela also and hired a detective firm to find her. Their only lead was the Burning Man desert festival. An old school mate had received a tweet that she had to come east to the desert and enjoy the sun and freedom of Burning Man. Unfortunately, that was it, no specifics. Angela's parents were trying to hedge their bets by asking...begging for my help too, since I could recognize her regardless of how she might have changed.

I emailed mom back to say I would put school on hold for that search.

I felt like the investigators to the Pan Am crash in Scotland, having only a strip of foil from the bomb to identify everything else. Here, I knew where someone MIGHT be, but I didn't know exactly where, exactly when, or even exactly what she would look like. But, I had to try and would.

Well, I got to Burning Man, alright. It was a strange scene. There were clumps of people into wearing face paint, others doing some odd dances, almost everyone acting as if they were on mescaline or LSD. I almost wished I knew what THEY saw in the sky, in me, in themselves. Wild ride, isn't it, dude?

To my amazement, in that checkerboard of vast empty spaces and tight knit crowds, the sound of music and electric generators omnipresent, I found Priscilla. Penny, as I called her, was Angela's friend. It was an unbelievable stroke of luck.

I came up to Penny, waved, put out my hand, and waited for some response. Talk about odd, she had what the Marines called a '1,000 yard stare', as if I either did not take up space or did not matter. At her feet were two foil wrapped pill blister packs, with two empty slots. I wasn't sure, but I didn't think they were Bayer aspirin. I had to do something; couldn't let her just rot, and I couldn't ignore the chance to find Angela.

I put her into a bear hold. She offered zero resistance as I expected.

Some long haired guy came from nowhere and said: "Take it in the trailer, man, be cool." I guess even here they preferred people fool around in private. There was a rundown trailer right next to us. It was someone's home, but in the spirit of the festival, that dude said to use it, and I wasn't going to hunt for the owners in that mob.

Getting Penny up in the trailer, I laid her on the freshly made bed and turned to close the door. When I came back, to my amazement, Penny was mindlessly taking off her clothes, thinking that this was just another sex session in between getting high. By the time I told her to stop, she had removed her top and dropped her worn out jeans.

I am quite ashamed to confess the next passage. I had always had a thing for Penny; she was one of the untouchable girls in high school. Like Angela, you needed an appointment and a written recommendation just to talk to her. Now, here she was of her own volition (which we could debate, but who's going to tell?), stripped to bare essentials and ready for action.

Gazing upon her incredible brunette beauty, her body toned from field hockey, her stomach rippling with perfect abs, everything else was solid, but feminine and sexy. As I was going to ask her if she really wanted to do this, she wiggled to the edge of the strangers' bed and lifted her legs, putting her feet on either side of my shoulders. Her hand grabbed my cock and used the rough, uncut head of that ten inch love pole to prepare herself. Once she pushed it in herself, taking the first five inches, my concern for her 'volition' evaporated. Here was the OTHER girl of my dreams, and I wasn't prepared to wait for a Gallup Poll survey to see if most people thought this savory or unsavory. I was drilling for gold...man.

Although Penny was 'out of it' in many ways, she was aware enough to moan in pleasure, to squeeze with the most powerful muscles I have ever felt 'inside her', and to get super hot. You can imagine my pride, joy, and relief to be going a mile a minute inside this nubile 20 year old vixen when I turned to my left and saw the owners of the trailer! Not just any visitors to Burning Man, they were coordinators that had been doing it for years. They were in their 60's, but to their credit, they looked like they were in their 80's. Ah, Burning Man...that healthy desert air and all.

As the old codgers looked on, they sat down as if we weren't there (!) and popped open a Malt liquor and a Pepsi. They both watched myself and Penny going at it as if it were part of the Burning Man show...and you know what...it WAS part of the show!

Well, the show must go on! I felt funny kissing a stranger and all, but I never finished love without a closing kiss. I kissed my dream girl and proceeded to pump seven loads of my potent seed deep inside her unprotected and presumably receptive womb.

After I finished, the two old codgers got up and applauded! The man slapped me on the back while his withered companion mussed my hair. They sat back down and let me dress. Penny was totally spent, between whatever she was on (might have been the powerful PCP, more likely LSD) and the sexual escapade. She would not budge and she would not talk. I looked in desperation to the old people and they said she could sleep it off right there. They encouraged me to go out and enjoy the festival. I thanked them and split. I felt terrible about leaving her, but she appeared to be in better hands there than with anyone else in that entire giant swath of desert.

I spent the entire next day, in desperation, walking the entire length and breadth of the festival. That night was going to be the highlight when they actually burnt the 'craven image', the burning man itself. I wasn't planning on 'hanging' that long. I finally caught a break when one of those clumps of like-minded freaks was doling out their entertainment (i.e. meds, or drugs if you prefer). I was no expert but it appeared to be speed of some sort.

As I turned away, I heard the last name of Tommy, my old opponent from high school.

I rushed back over to them, asking about that name. They thought I was a 'narc' (to use the outdated slang), a DEA agent or someone undercover. In desperation, I punted. I said: "Well, I don't need to buy from you; I can get Tommy's meth back on the road to LA."

One of them 'bought it'. The dude, maybe 35, six foot tall, maybe 140 lbs., said: "Hell, man, if you're going back to Bartow, then let me bum a ride off you."

I said: "It's a deal; tomorrow morning at 9am, I'll be right back here to get you. Don't want to miss the burning of the man, of course." (Sure, sure, as if I was going to wait another day in that place, or ride with a creep like you!)

I was rolling out of that place as soon as I checked on Penny. I went to that old trailer, where she was sitting, talking calmly, and coherently with the old couple. What happened next was odd. In high school, she wouldn't have taken the time to step on me. But here in the desert, having been dragged here by God knows who and strung out for two days, she was ecstatic to see a familiar face.

She leapt off the folding chair and kissed me, asking me: "when did you arrive? Are you with Angela?"

I gave her a hug, surprised that she didn't remember our 'tryst' the other day. I said: "Actually, I was hoping that YOU had some idea."

Penny: "Well, out here in the desert, no. I DO have her address in Bartow though." (my God, bull's eye!)

I said: "Well, if you want a ride there, let's roll."

Fortunately, my car had a really good GPS system. With the address fed in, we were on our way. I was concerned a bit because in the desert expanses of the west, sometimes those precision satellite maps turn into mush because the addresses are not precise from the air...no neat rowhouses all in a line.

We got to Bartow, which is a dusty desert way station for people trekking from Vegas to LA or points west. Its claim to fame was being the home of a taco restaurant chain. Oh, and it was the unofficial capital of home-grown crystal meth and other toxic concoctions.

That night in the modest but immaculate motel we stopped in, I asked Penny if she wanted a separate room, certain that she would say 'of course!'

Penny: "Well, if you promise to be a gentleman, we can save money and share a room. God, I never thought I'd share a room with you thinking back to high school. You HAVE changed and, according to those old codgers, you did kind of save me from being abandoned and strung out in the Burning Man hell hole."

We had dinner at that famous taco dive founded in beautiful downtown Bartow. I picked up some Heineken's and sodas at a convenience store and we retreated back to the motel. We talked about old times, not all of them 'happy days' but at least days we had in common. After four beers and three sodas hit the trash, empty, we decided to turn in.

I didn't mention it till now, but they screwed up. Penny was willing to go half and half on a room with two double beds; however, this had one king bed. I jumped under the covers, waiting for her to come out. I supposed she'd have me sleep on the small couch in the sitting room, or call down for a cot.

Penny, the unreachable star, the brunette of my dreams, a look alike of Jaclyn Smith but with big boobs, came out of the bathroom. Since her luggage was lost in the morass of Burning Man, we had picked up some things for her at 'Wally World' (Wal-Mart) just inside the city limits of Bartow. She had a new pink baby-doll pajama and she wore it well!

I braced myself for the lecture on 'trying to pull a fast one' by sneaking into the lone bed. No words were spoken, as she click clocked off those little slippers I bought her and slipped into bed, still distant on the other side of the kingsized motel bed. In the dark, I was prepared to have a quiet night. Then, she put her hand out in the dark, just reaching my hand.

Penny: "You know in high school, we used to make fun of you, your friends, and all of the 'losers' that weren't part of the jock fraternity, cheer squads, or those brownnosers who got those 'bonus point' grade supplements."

I said: "Gee, thanks, I guess I never had the chance to say that."

Penny: (squeezing my hand, then stroking it gently) "What I'm trying to say is that maybe it was OUR GROUP and not you guys that were the jerks. And, after all the crap I put you and your friends through, you had a once in a lifetime chance to laugh at me, to leave me rotting in the desert sun. But you chose to save me instead, to put me with those officers of the organization out there, and then check on me, and carry me to safety. I am so grateful, Rex, I am at a loss for words."

I didn't realize it, but as she was talking, she was sliding across the bed. When she finished her speech, she was within a few inches of me. It truly was like a dream; the most beautiful girl in school (Angela was second) and here I was alone with her.

The next thing I knew, her soft pliant lips were kissing me. Her overwhelming warmth showed me she had discarded the baby-doll nightgown I just bought her. My hands went down to her bum, and it was as firm as I hoped on that athlete. Her silky legs entwined with mine. We were becoming one living being, joining together as quickly and forcefully as we could.

Before she knew it, I had rolled on top of her. I was still afraid she'd have 2nd thoughts, being Penny—prom queen after all. Instead, she opened those famous legs of hers, putting my modest ten incher into her hot tunnel once again. This time, I hoped, she might actually remember what we did.

I dragged my tool inside of her, scraping and tingling the tender, hyper-sensitive vaginal walls of this super sexy 20 year old brunette. A true bedroom athlete, she gave as good as she received, and soon our fit bodies were slapping together in a glorious unison. We were on the ground floor and no one would complain.

I asked: "Are you safe? Should I pull out?" [Oddly, I was not only asking that for tonight, but for the PREVIOUS time we did this...]

Penny said: "Right now, with just the two of us here, I feel like you are the only man on earth, so you go right ahead and do what you feel like." She gave me the most passionate kiss I had ever received. I kissed back. What a paradigm switch...I had looked upon her as a frightening symbol of unobtainable beauty. Now, my God, I was falling in love with her and her with me.

Well, she DID say I could 'do what I feel like.' So, I did.

Putting my hands around her back side, I gently rolled her back towards the headboard, putting her legs way up, her beautiful petite feet on either ear. Like I was doing a push up, I leaned up, forward and then down, my cock definitely having a meeting with her cervix.

I was waiting for her to do something, anything. I was hoping for her to have the mythical simultaneous orgasm with me, but something better ensued. In the dark, sobbing ever so slightly, she told me: "Rex, I love you."

I was stunned. I fell down, engulfing her with my impassioned kiss. My cock swelled, my swollen balls, the size of mangos, retracted and then jerked some nine times, each time propelling a fire hose spray of sperm laden cum into the deepest recesses of that brazen brunette. I was praying that I had filled her sacred womb with my potent seed, and also that she was fertile. Unknown to me at the time, both were true.

I fell off her, exhausted and spent. To my surprise, she rolled me (with my help) onto my side, picked up my still hard, if spent, cock, and put it back inside of her. That stopped the tidal wave of my sperm which was escaping her fertile depths.

We slept like that, my hard cock inside of her, occasionally cumming deep inside her when some dream gave me midnight wood. The next morning, I found myself awake on top of the thrown open covers, my morning wood a mighty ten inch column rivaling the Washington monument. To my joy, she mounted me and proceeded to give me the sexiest moments I ever had basically just watching. My only work came at the end, when I came at the end. Lord almighty, the eagerness with which my virile unit performed the transfer of potent seed from huge swollen reservoirs, the length of my cock, and then into the waiting fertile ground of Penny's wondrous garden, her waiting womb. I was overcome with joy and amazement that I found myself in this situation.

Snapping out of it, I kissed my new love interest. We snuggled until noon. Then it was back to the search.

As I feared, Angela had given Penny a wrong address, whether she was confused or afraid of giving it out, who knows. We decided to try something on the spot. With Penny chewing gum and eschewing a bra, she looked incredibly trampy in the cheap duds we picked up at the Goodwill store there. We had noticed that some ladies 'of the evening' had been hanging out near the gigantic truck stop that Bartow was also famous for. I had Penny ask where she could get some speed, and 'ka-ching' or 'swish', we got it done. After fighting off two sweaty Teamsters who wanted to hire Penny for the 'hour', we headed for the address.

I had a Colt 45 auto in the car that I always carried. Cocked and locked, I put it into my cargo pants, hoping it wouldn't bust thru the pocket. My mom wanted me to have the cops find Angela, but I thought she might get hurt in a shootout or be busted, so here I was.

The address we were given was a trailer park (of course!) I asked Penny to guess which one it was. She guessed wrong, but the unshaven 40 year old unemployed bus driver told us which one WAS the right one. We were set.

I gave my cell phone to Penny. Looking at her, wondering if she really did care as much as I hoped and dreamed, I told her to call the Bartow police number that I had in the phone book listing, but only after I entered the trailer. I did not want her to come in and risk HER life too. For the 1st time, she kissed me not in exploration but in confirming our new relationship...and love. I was so happy that I thought myself bullet proof.

I knocked on the door and was let in by Tommy himself. He was so stunned to see me that he had no defensive response ready. Of course, being a meth dealer, he also was 'packed', a little 32 caliber auto in his left hand. After I came into the trailer, in the dim light of the filthy trailer windows, I could see something human on the floor. It couldn't be...

Tommy said: [brandishing the 32 in my face] "You know, I never did like or respect you, but I have to admire you finding me here. The question is, why are you here and why am I letting you live?"

At that point, I had every excuse in the world to simply twist my 45 in my pocket and use it from the hip. No jury in the world would bat an eyelash. The thing was, I did not like violence. Well, gun violence. I was a brown belt in judo, so I was lucky to grab his left hand and turn it. The gun did go off once, hitting the back wall harmlessly. After that, he had a broken wrist and no gun. Just then, three of Bartow's finest in vests, packing heat, burst in. I raised my hands, knowing that the police would not know who the bad guy was immediately.

As it turned out, Penny told them about me being in there and what I was wearing. I won't say she saved me, but, well, she saved me. We were even.

As they took Tommy away and started dusting for prints and seizing paraphernalia of all kinds, I went to the back of the trailer. There, with a gaunt ashen face, in shock, was Angela. I was afraid that they would arrest her, so I opened the rear door, motioned Penny over, and then made a diversion by standing across the aisle, blocking the detectives who were busy tearing up the front of the trailer, oblivious to anything else.

We took Angela out of there and got her to my car. We whisked her back to that same hotel (the room we had was still ours) and let her come down and re-hydrate. I was determined to have her as a witness against Tommy, but not as an accessory or as someone in possession. Grabbing my cell phone, I called her parents. When I told her mom that I had found her, she screamed in relief. Then I told her the condition we found her in. I asked if they had a retainer with a law firm. They did, of course. I gave them my cell number and awaited their call.