Several Weeks Ago, The Flats, M. Kay Underground Lair
Jane rarely cried. She couldn't remember the last time tears had run down her cheeks. She vaguely remembered she was an ugly crier. She inhaled the blanket that still had a faint trace of his scent. She needed a distraction from her emotional release. She was curvy and exposed on the bunk and her large breasts heaved as she choked back the tears, felt her body fight itself between sorrow and excitation. She hated whom she had become. A very elder stage Warrior in an ugly generic representation of whom her younger self truly was-an abomination of verisimilitude and guilelessness of the evils of the world. Her hair was wrong-faux hawk dark dikey spikey, her body wrong-soft where it should be hard, her methods and pretense wrong-yet there she was prepared to masturbate to the best memory of herself.
Tammy, the digital personal assistant, confirmed the order to run a log of the last 2 hours of her last visit to the lair so many years ago. Within moments, the small screen on Bunk B's wall clicked to life with laughter between younger, twenty something people. Jane couldn't believe how quickly the time had gone-they had aged. The choice they had made back then was a good choice, it had just gone bad over time.
She couldn't really blame the decision though. It had led her to this point of vengeance and peace-making.
She relaxed back and watched her younger twenty-five year old self-her hair blond and growing out with a softness she had forgotten-rub the liniment Magda had made onto his back. She was waif thin, but her bust gargantuan. He was on his stomach, his face buried under the pillow's edge, and she had listened to his breathing. Their chat was a whisper and she smiled at what they had come to as far as a decision went. She would stay by his side and be with him. They only trusted each other and they each had a sliver of blissful love for each other in their eyes. He had sat up quickly with a wince and kissed her deeply which she accepted passionately. The kiss had grown deeper and hands roamed.
At the present moment, she gasped as memory and video fact brought out that passion that had been tempered over time and revelation. She felt so much for the young couple, but fought away the snide commentary in her mind of what had happened to them. She ran her hands over her erect nipples, over her soft stomach, fanned over the tops of her muscular thighs and then caressed her hairless pubis. She watched them make love for the first time, so raw and carefree, as she teased her outer and inner lips. She watched as he had taken her body and made it his so thoroughly by grip, tongue, and dick.
Watching the screen as she rubbed her engorged clitoris, she saw, at the time, something that she had never quite taken. She saw his devotion as well as his violently masculine placement as the only man ever in her life.
On screen, he roughly took her as if they were only moments from death. He gripped her possessively and begun to shout his ownership. His right to her body. His long awaited dominion of a thunderstruck love that occurred in Estonia so long ago. He pumped into her with growls of sons and daughters. He bruised her soft and newly healed flesh to mark her as off limits to anyone and a brand of whom she belonged. He would forever protect her. He would forever be her answer to anything-desire, anger, worry, and calm.
She fully took in the vows time had removed from memory and she brought herself to a furiously overdue orgasm that would lead, she knew, to many more during the long masturbatory session she wanted. She was shocked by what escaped her mouth, in all her strength, darkness, and secrets; she had never once thought she would ever hear herself scream. "Mikhail! Mikhail! FUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKIIINNNNGGGGG SAVE ME!!!!"
By every touch of her body, by every slick pussy cum, she shouted things that surprised her as she realized that she didn't want to do what she had vowed so long ago to do, but she was in too deep not to carry it through. She loved Mikhail and wanted to so much undo everything, but she couldn't. Lucille Yolochenko was a poison that needed the antidote of Jane.
Inside a Stone Vent, Zeppelin's Ziggurat, Early Morning in the City
The thin, sinewy form clad in black watched the show in the candle lit stone room from the monitor brace on his left arm. The ear piece in his right gave him the audio track. He made no judgment because he wasn't paid for it. He recorded, noted, and awaited the storm to let up before he made his way to the sewer tunnel that would take him out of the Warehouse District and into the checkpoint to drop off his report summary. Neither the chill of the tunnel nor the scent of shit and chemicals affected him; his masked face only revealed his tired, with an edge of longing, blue-hazel eyes. He decided against waiting the storm out.
I need to fuck her. I need to talk to her. I need her presence.
He closed the monitor brace and slid his sleeve over it for good measure. His latest assignment was almost done. The head lamp clamped over his skull cap illuminated by the sudden darkness. His body knew the quick pace by rote from constant use of tight spaces with labyrinthine trials, and he was at the edge that opened to the large tunnel below in no time. The tunnel was flooded, but he gripped the slim edge of stone near the ceiling and made haste as his large arm muscles carried his body in a dangle to the other side where the next vent welcomed him.
The last lay. . . .Her kisses. . . Her wetness. The way her pussy gripped me when she rode me on the stone throne in the tower. It's been too long.
He propelled himself into the next vent that was slightly smaller than the previous, but his body took to it with the same rote speed as before. Vermin tried to catch a ride with a bite or scratch on his tight yet flexible body armor, but his focus and pace toward the destination let it go unnoticed. The opening at the end exposed a chain work bridge over the rush of rank and ugly rainwater atop sewage. The chain bridge was six feet below and he flipped upright as he dove before he landed in a half crouch and grab of the unsteady metal. The clang was lost to the water sounds and thunder announcements. His stride was steady in the half crouch across the bridge and he was in the large tunnel blackness with his small beam of light from the top of his mask to guide him. He jogged with automatic intensity.
It's time to knock her up if that last time didn't do it. Watching her body change with the new life I'll put in her will be my new hobby. Our family safely unknown from the outside world. Everything inside our fortress.
