It Aint Paranoia If Ch 03

This is the third story in a series; strongly suggest you read the first two before this, because it continues without reintroduction of characters or circumstances. No sex among or in front of persons under 18 years of age.

End of part 2:

I swung the rifle to the climber.

He didn't like the open space, or maybe he didn't like the odds, because he hesitated with his right hand on top of the rock he was behind. I guess he decided to try, because his arm snaked over the top, his hand grasped the edge, and he lunged for the ledge he had to cross. The bullet caught him in the chest before he made it, and he tumbled backward onto the rocks.

"Any moving heat signatures?" I asked.

"No, Rob," Kaitlyn assured me. "Some are gone, and some are fading, but none are moving."

"Okay, give me the controls and let me bring it back and get it stowed away." She handed me the controls and asked what they should do now.

"Great job, everyone; I think the danger has been mitigated for the time being, but let's remain careful anyway; crouch down and go back in the house. Get your stuff together while I put the drone away. I'll grab my go bag, we'll get in the Jeep, and go meet Saguaro at Study Butte. We have a long drive ahead of us before we get to the Mountain Lair."

Saguaro was waiting in an armored Suburban. He said he'd run interference as needed, but the main group had turned at Marathon and would approach from the south, so with the smaller group routed, he felt we had free sailing through Alpine to Fort Davis and beyond. I asked if he had informed the others, and he told me that Chap's sources had verified the intel, so they were ready and waiting.

The kids were far too excited to sleep for the first forty miles, and they had myriad questions I couldn't or wouldn't answer with speculation. They finally played out, so Kaitlyn and I had forty miles to talk before we got to Alpine. With the kids sleeping, it was Kaitlyn's turn to ask myriad questions for which I had no answer.

"Truth is, Kaitlyn, all I know is a contract was let on you and our kids, and then I was added. We don't know who we are fighting or who is behind it, but the Escamilla Cartel let the contract. Have any idea why?"

"No, but I heard Chap say 'Reynaldo', and when the business started crumbling I heard Robert warn his lawyer that it would be very bad if they lost Reynaldo's money, and both of them sounded frightened."

"The feds say he was in a money laundering scheme with those guys. If he stole or lost their money, they will want it back, or his life in forfeit. They sometimes kill the family of the one who stole from them too, but I don't see why I would have been added. I didn't know anything about the money laundering or any accounts he might have with them.

"I turned his sorry ass in for embezzling on a grand skill, and for trying to force me to make deals with people and governments the US has on its list of terrorists or sponsors of terrorism.

"Anyway, hopefully we will learn more when we get there, but I don't think this is Reynaldo killing Robert's family, because he hasn't killed Robert yet."

My phone buzzed; Chap said, "That was quick; I assume your family is well, and the others are not?"

I assured him we were and they were not; he asked, "You did activate everything when you left, right?"

I assured him I had. "So, according to Coyote, you have a dozen propane bottles and twice that many IEDs along the road and around the base of the hill. We'll put our drone in the air after we get word the second bunch is on your road. Do you want us to send you the feed, or take care of it here?"

"Are you in a safe place, Carlos?"

"We're where we agreed, we have sniper cover on both sides, and we all have our dirt bikes, so we're good. You giving us the go?"

"I am, but only if you're absolutely safe. I can build a new house, but you clowns are hard to replicate."

"Okay,

Vato

, but one more thing; Guillermo has the BP on alert, helicopters and all. When your Disco show ends, we're gone and the legally constituted authorities will take over. Meanwhile, put

sus hijos y la guera bonita

into the bunker and keep them there. Hell, you too,

Pendejo

! Let the pros take care of this!"

"You know me; of course I will!"

"Mentiras! Hasta luego, amigo; tienes cuidado."

"Y tambien, amigos. Hasta la vista!"

***

We followed SH 17 though Alpine to a junction just south of Fort Davis, then turned north on SH 166. State Highway 166 wends through the desolate desert between Fort Davis and Valentine. Valentine is essentially a ghost town with 200 hardy souls and a famous post office. You can send your valentine cards to the post office and they will send them on to your loved one stamped "Valentine, Texas".

This is a very large, desolate area with little traffic. Fort Davis -- the town and the fort -- draw a lot of tourists and historians, as does Marfa, but 166 offers little in the way of scenery compared to 17, which continues on to 'the world's largest spring-fed swimming pool', or 118, which wend past MacDonald Observatory through some beautiful, forested passes and on to Van Horn.

There are few residents, because big chunks of the land are owned by absentee landowners who rarely visit, and even bigger chunks are inaccessible by automobile. Silverleaf Ranch is agood example, because after

El Gato

told me he had the perfect place for me, I had to fly over it in a helicopter to determine if an appropriate home site could be accessed among all the foothills, mountains, canyons, and creek beds.

On the entire mountainous 4-section/3200 acres, I only found three appropriate building sites, and two of them were, for my purposes, too close to the road. The site I chose was inaccessible except by air, foot, or horseback, but I could see from the helicopter that a road could be built along a westward sloping mesa to the tallest mountain, if you could bridge the final canyon. Fortunately, that canyon was deep but relatively narrow, being a watercourse rather than the result of erosion of the mountain and mesa.

A civil engineer --

Gato's

favorite from his days as a developer in the DFW area - willingly rode a horse up the mesa to the canyon with us. He looked everything over and concluded that a substantial road could be built, and the canyon could be cost-effectively spanned with an arch bridge that could sustain heavy vehicles.

The next day, the three of us landed the helicopter on my desired building site to determine whether a building of the size and substance I envisioned could be built there. Again, he concluded it could, but a lot of rock would have to be dug. Excited by the issues an engineer would face, and possibly light headed due to the high altitude and the beer we were drinking, he practically begged for the opportunity to engineer the projects, and we made a deal.

Then the fun started: we had to build a road capable of transporting heavy equipment and concrete trucks from the desert floor up a long, gently sloping, dirt and rock ramp onto the mesa, and thence up the mesa to that narrow final canyon. Erecting the arch bridge that could handle the heavy equipment and trucks across the 250-foot span proved to be more of an engineering and construction feat than Terry expected, but, with help from a helicopter and a suspension footbridge, they got it done.

Before the bridge was built, we drilled holes and blasted the area for the foundation of the house. After the bridge was in place, we built the rest of the road, got the site on the crown leveled, and THEN we started the excavation of the basement/bunker, and house above.

Fortunately, my investments and business interest were expanding faster than the cost, because lots of hardened concrete and steel went into the house, and even more went into the basement and bunker. Those materials weren't cheap, and neither was the expert labor; especially when you have to have men with expertise and discretion. The Brotherhood helped here, too.

Although there weren't many people around to wonder what was going on up here on the western side of the Davis mountains, the sheriff insisted early on that he and I have a conversation. It was a good conversation; although he knew me by reputation, he wanted to get to know me in person, in case his impression differed. We got along well.

Turns out mine isn't the only "survivalist" home in the area, and the fact that I belonge to "The Brotherhood" stood me in good standing with Sheriff Goodson, his deputies, and the DPS troopers, Park Rangers, and Border Patrol agents stationed around Balmorhea, Fort Davis, Marfa, and Alpine.

A metal rendering of the 'crossed lightning bolts' symbol of The Brotherhood is welded to the front of the top pipe on my gate. Most have no idea what it means, but a lot of people that matter, do.

The entrance to the Silverleaf Oak Ranch is a few miles past Mount Livermore, the sixth highest elevation in Texas at 8,378 feet. Its prominence is particularly impressive because it rises 3,918 feet above the nearby desert floor in the midst of a series of Mexican Pinon Pine-covered foothills and smaller mountains. That's the third greatest prominence in Texas, and the craggy southwest face draws your attention as you circle it.

We turned right off the highway, unlocked and opened the 6" steel pipe gate, and continued up the road. The road climbed about 900 feet up a ramp onto the spine of a west-sloping mesa lying between two deep canyons. A mile into the ranch, the road crossed a bridge from the mesa onto the mile-high mountain on which The Mountain Lair was built.

It wasn't a particularly dangerous road, like at the Desert Lair, but the canyons on either side of the mesa were sheer and deep, and looked even more foreboding in the dark.

Both kids awoke as we neared the house. Grace asked, "Where are we?"

"This is my other house -- the Mountain Lair. Tomorrow I'll show you around, but tonight let's get some sleep, okay?"

Kaitlyn had made them put on pajamas for the trip, so they plodded along as I led them to their bedrooms for the night. We tucked them in, and walked back toward the living area.

"This is your 'other house'? I assume this is your main house, or at least I hope it is. If you have a bigger, nicer place than this I'm gonna start wondering about you laundering drug money and making deals with terrorists."

"No, this is 'home', I guess, although I split my time between here and the Desert Lair. Just so you know, I built this to withstand anything short of artillery strikes or a powerful missile. That's why the walls are so massive; reinforced concrete covered with stucco.

There's a bunker that will withstand even those kinds of strikes, and that's where you and the kids will be if we are attacked. I'll show it to you now, just in case, but we don't plan to transition down there until tomorrow, because we believe there is little chance they will attack us tonight."

I led her through the kitchen and then through the panty. I opened a canister on a high shelf marked "Flour", flipped the toggle inside, and the back shelving slid aside open. We walked down a ramp into an open basement set up as a game room, with pool, shuffleboard, and ping-pong tables, and two pinball machines. There were couches with coffee tables scattered around along the walls.

"The door to the bunker is hidden here in the basement, disguised as a heating unit. Behind it is a vault door with a combination lock. It opens with a code that changes daily, and you have to use it to open the door from either side. The bunker can also be accessed from another location, but that keypad is well disguised and the code almost impossible to break, even with the right programs.

"The command center we will use during an attack is inside the bunker, and the comm ports therein are the only way to get information in or out while under attack.

"There is enough food and water for 22 people to last a month, and it has its own power and ventilation systems. The generators and ventilation shafts are well hidden elsewhere, so it's unlikely anyone can affect those. You'll see all that tomorrow, but I wanted to give you an intro before we try to get some rest."

"Show me the inside; I want to see where I might be staying for a month, with two rowdy kids."

I opened the panel with the "electric screwdriver" hidden on top of the "HVAC unit'; the vault was open, as it stayed when not in use. I entered and waited for her.

"Not at all what I expected; we have a living room with couches and chairs, two widescreen TVs with DVD players, at least a dozen laptops with game controllers, and a library. There is a full kitchen with walk in freezer; I assume those are pantries?" I nodded, and she continued walking and taking inventory.

"What's behind the twin steel doors with the biometric locks?" she asked.

"The one on the right is the armory; to the left is the other command center."

"Okay. I also see two big bathrooms with multiple showers and commodes, one bedroom/office with a nice bath, a smaller bedroom with 2 full beds and a bath, and a big room with twelve bunk beds, singles over doubles. Your bunker can sleep 22, right?"

"If you don't count the couches; 26 if you do, and up to 36 if we inflate the air mattresses. But not that many for a month -- not enough food."

She said she needed to use the restroom so bad she was going to explode, and I should close the vault door so I could show her how to open it. She disappeared into the bathroom in the bedroom, and stayed there for several minutes before I heard her flush. Immediately after that, I could hear the shower running.

I punched the button to close the door and walked back toward the bedroom to meet her. The light went off so I stopped and waited.

A lamp was turned on in the bedroom and I heard, "Rob?" "Yes, Kaitlyn" "Come in here, please."

Wondering what she wanted I walked into the bedroom and froze; before me lay a most delectable sight: a naked Kaitlyn!

I took in the sight and realized that, although she was always luscious, maturity had blessed Kaitlyn with softer curves, larger breasts, and a most compelling transition from small waist to flaring hips to shapely legs.

Frozen, I stared from the doorway. She raised one knee and said, "If I'm going to die tomorrow, I want my little pussy full of your cum when I go. So shuck those clothes and come here!"

Shucking my clothes took no time at all. She held up her arms in welcome as I approached the bed, but I detoured to the base. Taking her pretty feet in my hands I began kissing one and massaging the base of the other with my thumb. She moaned, "Don't tease tonight, Baby! I need you inside me so bad!"

Ignoring her, I lavished her feet and toes with oral and manual attention before moving to her ankles and then calves. She was moaning and wiggling her butt continuously, urging me to quit teasing and 'come fuck your woman'.

With her legs held up high, I kissed and bit the back of her knees, and watched the honeydew ooze out of that puffy pink pussy and down her ass toward the sheet. I let her juices flow onto her rosebud before licking it off and tonguing the bud.

She was well past ready, but, if I'm going to die tomorrow, I want to have sampled every bit of the honey-blonde angel in my bed, so I continued up the inside of her thighs.

She grabbed my head and tried to force my mouth against her questing, gyrating pussy, but I bit her at the junction of leg and ass, and began licking and sucking all around the sweetest-smelling pussy in Texas. When my tongue slid up one set of lips and down the other, she moaned loudly; when my tongue plowed down the middle of her pussy and then flicked her clit, she shrieked, held my head with both hands, and ground her pussy against my face.

The spasms were even more spectacular than I remembered, and her legs squeezing my head more powerful. When they fell apart and released my head, I could hear her panting and whimpering.

My mouth slipped upward to tongue her belly button. She pulled my hair upward and begged, "Please, please, please, Baby, fuck me now! It's been so long!"

My hands mauled her tits, and then my forefingers and thumbs rolled her swollen cherries. She cried out and writhed beneath me. I moved my mouth to her tits and licked, sucked, and lightly bit each in turn. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she chanted.

My tongue in her potty mouth ended her chant, but she wrapped her legs around me and trapped my ass between her thighs. She pulled me in and arched her butt off the bed seeking our union. She whimpered louder when I kept our sex organs barely touching.

"Tell me what you want, Kaitlyn."

"Fuck me! Fuck me like only you can!" she pleaded.

"Why should I? The first time I'm gone for a few days you'll find someone else and run off with them!"

"No, Baby, No, NO! I love only you! I've always loved only you! I lost my way, but now I'm found! I love you! Please fuck me!"

My lingering resentment wanted to tease her still more, but my cock had waited long enough; it took control and pushed inside of its own volition. It felt at least 130 degrees inside her boiling caldron, and her interior folds and muscles pulled at my cock.

Trying to maintain control, I began stroking in and out in a controlled manner, but she immediately shrieked, arched her back, and began to spasm as if possessed. "AAAAIIIIEEEE!" she cried as she writhed and shook.

I rode out that orgasm and plotted her next. I had no idea where this was going, if anywhere at all, or even if we'd be alive after tomorrow for it to matter, but she was without doubt the hottest fuck I'd ever had, so why not take advantage while I could? I mean, this is a night to let bygones be bygones, for tomorrow we may die... or something like that.

With the edge off her need, Kaitlyn began focusing on me. She rolled us over so she was on top, resituated herself, and began to rock, grinding her groin against mine. Holding her tits in her hands, she squeezed and pulled; she stretched and twisted her nipples, whimpering in pain and lust, and stared down at me through hooded eyes.

I grabbed a double-handful of ass cheeks and squeezed. After a few squeezes and a pinch, the fingers of my right hand released and slipped into the valley between those muscular cheeks, finding it wet and slick with our juices. Using those juices, the middle finger rubbed and then invaded the little brown cleft.

The hooded eyes grew wide; my left hand moved up her back and pulled her forward so that my mouth could consume those swollen titties, which proved to be far more than the mouthful I remembered. Thirty was a good age for her!

She fed me one breast and then another, grinding and grating our groins as she whispered words of love and lust. "Your cock is a perfect fit, Lover Boy; you stretch me to the limit! I know you can feel that big thing bottoming out when I push down, can't you? See, any longer and it would be too long; any shorter and it wouldn't fill me -- a perfect fit! We were made for each other!"

While she was talking, she was accelerating her movements, back and forth, up and down, and all around. My index finger joined my middle in her rectum, forcing itself past the twin sphincters during a particularly hard downward thrust, and she cried out. I don't know about Robert, or any other lover she might have had, but I had never been in there, and I was seriously considering changing that.

"Oh, Rob, I'm so full of you! My little pussy is full of your cock and my little bottom is full of your fingers, and I feel like I'm going to explode! OH GOD!"

That exclamation exploded when my third finger joined the other two and I pulled her distended nipple with my teeth; her mons ground on mine, and she screamed like a panther in the night! I thought she might try to pull away, but she kept grinding for a few more seconds, and then collapsed on top of me, seemingly boneless.