Buner 186

Sarah lingered in the small bedroom, her skin still flushed from Silas's touch, a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment swirling in her chest. The bunker's scant dress code loomed--thongs, toplessness, the bare minimum to conserve water--but the thought of walking out so exposed made her stomach twist. She rummaged through her bag, settling on a pair of subtle cotton panties and a full-sized bra that covered her breasts, a compromise between modesty and the bunker's norms. Silas, unperturbed, slipped into his briefs, the faded fabric clinging to his hips, his thick bulge unmistakable beneath the thin material. He caught her eyeing him, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ready, girl?"

She nodded, smoothing her hair, and they stepped out, the cartoon's credits still rolling behind them as the kids giggled on the bunk. The corridor hummed with the bunker's steady pulse as they passed the cafeteria, its stainless steel gleaming under artificial light. A family approached--the Asian couple they'd glimpsed earlier, now properly introduced. The husband, a lean man in his thirties with a reserved smile, wore boxers, while his wife opted for modest pantie and a bra. She was tall and slim and had large breasts for Asian women. "I'm Ken," he said, his voice soft. "This is my wife, Mei." Mei nodded, her eyes warm but guarded.

Their children trailed behind--two younger ones, a boy and girl under five, fully clothed, and an older daughter, 18, who stood out starkly. She was topless, her darker nipples contrasting her pale skin, her thong a scrap of fabric that revealed more than it hid. Sarah's brow furrowed--something felt off. Ken and Mei, barely past their thirties, with an 18-year-old? The math didn't add up, but she held her tongue, offering a polite smile instead. "Tommy, Ellie, and Grace," she said, gesturing to her own kids, who peeked from behind.

Silas shook Ken's hand, his grip firm, but his eyes flicked to the daughter, a flicker of curiosity he quickly masked. They moved on, descending the stairs to the lower level, the air cooling as they went. Courtney's voice cut through the hum, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she sauntered up, Ian trailing behind her. "Wow," she drawled, her gaze dropping to Silas's briefs, "no wonder Sarah's with you. Look what he's packing down there. Mr. Mystery's now Mr. Stallion." Her smirk was sharp, her thong riding high as she leaned closer.

Sarah's cheeks burned, her arm tightening around Silas's, a defensive edge flaring. "He's mine," she said, her voice low but firm, staking her claim. Courtney laughed, unbothered, and gestured to a young Indian man nearby. "Let me introduce you to Vinay." He stood with his wife, Priya, a petite woman in modest underwear, and two boys under five, their small hands clutching her hands. Vinay's dark eyes met Silas's with a cool distance, less cordial than the others, his briefs snug against his lean frame. He nodded curtly, his attention drifting back to Courtney, a closeness between them that prickled Sarah's instincts.

As they turned to continue, Courtney's voice rang out again, sharp with mischief. "Hey, Vinay, look--someone couldn't wait." She pointed at Sarah's pantie, a damp patch and cum stain betraying the aftermath of their earlier passion. Sarah's face flamed, but Silas chuckled, pulling her closer, his hand brushing her hip possessively. "Damn right," he muttered, loud enough for Courtney to hear, his pride unmistakable.

They reached Dr. Olson's office at the bottom level, a sterile room with a metal exam table, a desk, and a cabinet of supplies. Linda, topless in her micro bikini bottom, greeted them with a warm smile, her amber waves framing her youthful face. "Kids first," she said, guiding Tommy, Ellie, and Grace to the table. Dr. Olson checked their vitals--heartbeats, lungs, a quick once-over--his hands steady despite his age. Silas and Sarah followed, already stripped to their underwear for the exam. Olson's stethoscope pressed cold against Silas's chest, then Sarah's, his sharp blue eyes assessing them with clinical detachment.

Olson moved to Sarah's pelvic exam, easing her legs apart exposing her trimmed blonde pubes and pink labia, still slick from Silas's seed hours ago, her clit a swollen nub glistening faintly. He inserted a speculum, cold metal parting her warm folds, her vaginal walls pink and slick, pulsing slightly as he peered inside, a smirk tugging his lips. "Wow. Already? Don't blame you." he chuckled, his voice a gravelly tease, noting the creamy residue of Silas's cum pooling at her cervix, her inner lips puffy from their earlier raw passion.

Sarah's cheeks turn red, her thighs trembling, a mix of shame and pride sparking low--she'd never been so claimed, her body still humming from Silas's thrusts. "All clear," Olson said finally, scribbling notes, the pen scratching loud in the quiet. He leaned back, folding his arms, his scrub pants shifting to hint at a lean groin. "How old are you, Silas?"

"Seventy-three," Silas replied, voice steady, a defiant edge as he met Olson's gaze, his hand brushing Sarah's knee, grounding her. "How about you?"

Olson smirked, a rare crack in his stern facade, his eyes flicking to Silas's briefs, the thick ridge of his cock unmistakable, then back up. "Younger than you--sixty-five. We're the old bulls here, huh?" He paused, tone matter-of-fact. "If you need any pills for, uh, stamina--erection stuff--let me know. Got plenty in stock."

Silas grinned, his hand sliding to Sarah's, fingers lacing tight, her pulse quickening at his touch, the memory of his cock stretching her flashing vivid--thirty minutes of unrelenting heat, his seed still warm inside her core. "Ain't needed 'em yet, Doc. But I'll keep it in mind."

Linda turned to Sarah, her voice softening as she tidied the speculum, her pink nipples bobbing slightly, her firm ass flexing in the thong's thin strap, Silas's eyes lingering on its peach-shaped curve, the fabric vanishing between her cheeks. "I guess you'll be helping with the kids--teaching, maybe? We've got a little school going. Your three will fit right in with ours." She glanced at her four charges coloring quietly in the corner, their crayons scraping paper.

"Yeah," Sarah said, her embarrassment easing under Linda's warmth. "I'd like that." Tommy, Ellie, and Grace were her anchor, their giggles a tether beyond these steel walls.

Olson clapped Silas's shoulder as they finished, his grip firm. "Janitor duty starts tomorrow. Check in with Sean in the morning. We'll get you sorted." He nodded to Linda, who ushered the kids out, her hips swaying, Silas's gaze locked on her ass, the thong's green string a stark line against her creamy skin, her breasts bouncing lightly, pink tips catching the light.

Sarah and Silas redressed--her in a cotton pantie and a bra, him in briefs stepping into the corridor, where he pulled her close, his hand cupping her ass, fingers digging through the thin fabric, squeezing her firm cheek. "Best damn sex I ever had," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, his cock stirring against her thigh, promising more. "Tonight, round two. Gonna fuck you even harder." Sarah's pulse raced, a flush creeping up her neck, her pussy clenching at the thought--his girth, her shaking orgasm, a primal release Ethan never touched. "Round two," she whispered, a shy smile breaking free, her body already craving his heat.

Linda reappeared, her amber hair loose now, framing her heart-shaped face, her pink nipples stark against her bare chest as she gestured down the hall. "C'mon, I'll show you around--get you settled." Silas's eyes flicked to her ass again, the thong riding high, her cheeks jiggling with each step, but his hand stayed on Sarah's hip, possessive. They trailed Linda through bottom level, the bunker's pulse alive--vents hissing, footsteps clanging, voices drifting from distant rooms.

First, the library, a cramped nook stacked with many books. Linda's fingers trailed a shelf, her breasts swaying as she pointed out a kids' section, Tommy's eyes wide at a brand-new Dr. Seuss. Next, the game room, a dim space with electronic games and board games, and a deeper room with a pool table and other games for adults only. Silas's gaze lingered on Linda's curves, her pink nipples tightening in the cooler air, Sarah's hand tightening in his, a flicker of jealousy sparking.

The exercise room buzzed with motion--Yuna pedaled a stationary bike, her topless frame glistening, her breasts bouncing, light brown nipples hard and pointed, her black hair streaming behind, her lacy underwear soaked with sweat, outlining her shaved mound. Sarah glanced at Silas, catching his stare, her own arousal stirring--Yuna's lithe body a mirror of the bunker's freedom, her own pussy still slick from Olson's exam. Linda waved at Yuna, unfazed, her ass flexing as she led them on, Silas's eyes torn between her cheeks and Yuna's rhythmic sway.

In the open computer room, a half-dozen monitors glowed, wires snaking across tables, a lone Asian man tapping keyboard, his briefs snug, his focus unbroken. Linda's voice softened, explaining computer access her breasts grazing a chair as she leaned, Silas's gaze flicking to her pink tips, Sarah's breath catching, her clit pulsing faintly, torn between possessiveness and the bunker's pull. Finally, the play area, a padded corner where Natalie knelt, her blonde hair tied back, her thong-clad hips swaying as she stacked blocks with a blonde toddler. Natalie's D-cup breasts hung free, nipples dark, though Silas's eyes traced her curves, then snapped back to Linda's ass, its jiggle hypnotic as she crouched to hug a kid.

"Your three'll love it here," Linda said, standing, her pink nipples bobbing, Silas's cock twitching in his briefs, Sarah's hand squeezing his, grounding them both. The tour ended, Linda waving them off and went to her quarter, her ass a final tease as she vanished.

The play area opened before them--a brightly lit nook with padded floors, playground structures, and scattered toys, a slice of normalcy carved from the bunker's depths. Natalie stood near a slide, her thong hugging her hips as she guided her three kids. Her blonde hair gleamed under the artificial light, her soccer-mom warmth undimmed by her exposure. She waved Sarah over with a smile. "Glad you made it! They'll love it here."

His gaze drifted, drawn by motion as two women approached--Jennifer, a white brunette with fierce green eyes, and Lana, a hazel-eyed Latina, both topless, their micro bikini bottoms clinging like second skins, barely veiling their curves.

Jennifer, in her late twenties, strode with purpose, her 5'9" frame taut from bunker chores, her pale skin flushed lightly, a faint freckle dusting across her collarbone. Her D-cup breasts swayed freely, heavy and round, their dark pink nipples stiff in the cool air, puckering slightly as she moved, her flat stomach flexing above a black thong that rode low, the fabric outlining her shaved mound, a hint of her outer labia pressing against the thin strip, damp with sweat. Her brunette hair fell in loose waves to her mid-back, framing a sharp jaw and full lips, her hips rolling as she wrangled two blonde children--a boy and girl, about four and two, their giggles sharp against the lounge's hum. When she bent to scoop the girl, her thong stretched tight, parting her firm ass cheeks, the strap vanishing into her crack, revealing a glimpse of her pink anus, her pussy lips puffy and defined, Silas's groin tightening at the sight, his cock twitching hard in his briefs.

Lana, in her early twenties, followed, her 5'6" Latina frame softer, her fair with faint of olive tone skin glowing under the lights, a faded stretch mark curving above her hip from recent motherhood. Her C-cup breasts bounced gently, their mocha nipples wide and flat, tightening as she shifted, her hourglass figure narrowing to a trim waist, her green thong biting into her rounded hips, the front clinging to her pubic mound, a dark shadow of trimmed curls visible beneath, her inner thighs glistening faintly, her pussy's outline a subtle swell against the fabric. She cradled an infant with dark curls, about six months old, her arms flexing, the baby's weight pulling her breasts lower, their undersides soft and creamy. As she bent to adjust the child's blanket, her ass arched, full and smooth, the thong's string slipping deeper, exposing her brown puckered anus, her labia parting slightly, slick with the day's activity, Silas's eyes locked, a familiar heat coiling low, his balls heavy with want.

Why would I need a pill? he thought, smirking inwardly, his cock now half-hard, straining the briefs' seam. Hard time not gettin' a hard-on here. The bunker's scant dress code--thongs, bare skin, sweat-slick flesh--was a relentless tease, a parade of curves and crevices he couldn't unsee, Jennifer's swaying breasts and Lana's arched ass burned into his mind like a brand.

Two men approached, snapping Silas's reverie--a younger Black man, in his early thirties, with a muscular build, and a Hispanic man, also in his early thirties, wiry and lean, both in snug briefs, their groins outlined in the dim light. The Black man extended a hand, his bicep flexing, his dark skin smooth, his briefs molding a thick six-inch cock, soft but prominent. "Name's Jackson Carter. I'm in charge of purifying water here," he said, his voice steady but edged, eyes flicking to Silas with cautious respect. "This is Jose, Jose Morales--he runs the cooking and cafeteria. We all pitch in at different times, but he's the boss there." Jose nodded, his dark eyes friendly but reserved, his wiry frame taut, his briefs tight over a lean groin, a faint bulge hinting at five inches, his olive skin gleaming, a tattoo curling across his hip.

Jackson gestured to the women, his hand lingering in the air, proud yet casual. "That white girl's mine--the brunette. The Latina's his. We're a tight crew." Jennifer glanced up, her green eyes catching Silas's stare, a knowing smirk tugging her lips as she straightened, her breasts bouncing, nipples darkening further, her thong damp now, clinging to her pussy's swell. Lana rocked her infant, her light brown eyes soft but sharp, her ass flexing as she shifted, the thong's string a stark line, her labia's outline clearer, Silas's cock pulsing.

His tone shifted, hardening as he fixed Silas with a stare. "You're a betrayer of our race, man. Supposed to take a black woman with black kids. If we're the only bunker that survives, all black folks'll be mixed. He paused, glancing at Sarah's pale curves, his tone biting. "That is, if you can impregnate her. With your age, that may be harder than you think."

Silas met his stare, unflinching, his hand sliding to Sarah's lower back, fingers grazing her thong's edge, her skin warm under his calluses. "So why didn't you?" he shot back, his drawl sharp with defiance, eyes narrowing, his cock still heavy from earlier, he'd already claimed Sarah, her womb will carry his seed.

Jackson's jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "She was my best friend's wife. He saved me in the military--took a bullet for me in Kandahar. I promised I'd take care of Jennifer, her kids. Wasn't about choice--it was duty." He glanced at Jennifer, her green eyes soft as she guided the toddlers, her breasts bouncing, nipples darkening, unaware of the tension. "But you?" Jackson's gaze swung back to Silas, sharp as a blade. "You picked a hot blonde you never had a shot with before. No more brothas and sistas, just mixed kids dilutin' us."

Sarah's grip tightened on Silas's arm, her nails digging into his skin, her pussy clenching faintly, a mix of fear and loyalty sparking. "He chose us. That's what matters," she said, voice soft but firm, stepping closer, her thigh brushing his. Flicker of guilt invaded her mind. Then, her blue eyes flicked to Natalie, kneeling in the play area, her bare breasts swaying as she stacked blocks with her toddler, a distraction beckoning.

Jackson exhaled, his shoulders easing, but his tone stayed heavy, his voice still firm. "Look, I ain't blind. Government protocols forced bunkers like this--public ones--to hit minority quotas, thirty percent at least, Black, Latino, Asian, you name it. Kept us from bein' shut out entirely." He leaned forward, voice low, conspiratorial, his briefs stretching, his shaft's ridge clear. "But private bunkers? They're white as snow--rich folks, elites, holed up in North America, Europe, East Asia, Australia. Got the best tech, the deepest vaults, built to last decades if the Furnace don't quit. Minorities? We're stuck in shitholes--public dumps like old missile silos, half-broke, leakin' air if the heat spikes past 140°F. Ain't no accident."

Silas raised an eyebrow, his hand still on Sarah's back, fingers tracing her spine, her ass flexing under his touch. "How you know all that?"

"Intelligence division," Jackson said, clipped, his eyes distant, reliving classified briefings. "Pentagon sub-basements, saw the maps, the plans--bunker grids. Public sites like 186 got scraps, mixed crews to check boxes, while private one's cherry-picked whites. Black folks, Latinos? Left to fry unless we clawed into places like this." He gestured to the lounge, vines swaying, Lana's eyes catching his, her mocha nipples tightening as she rocked her infant, a quiet strength mirroring Jennifer's.

Jackson's voice softened, his gaze settling on Jennifer's toddlers, their blonde curls bouncing as they ran to Natalie and back to Jennifer. "Truth is, I'm good with it now. Jennifer's my world--those kids, mine by oath." His cock stirred, briefs bulging, a proud flex of potency. "I'm makin' sure they got a future, mixin' or not. She will carry my child. My dick works fine--our kids'll marry, carry us forward. This bunker's tight and luxurious though, Silas. We're the lucky ones, even if the game's rigged. Park is great director, made sure we have haven in this fucked up world." He offered a half-smile, resentment fading, his hand extending, a truce. "You did what you had to. Ain't judgin' you."

Silas nodded, his grin slow, shaking Jackson's hand, firm and steady, Sarah's warmth grounding him, her mind at ease with the shift. "Fair enough," he said, his drawl easy now. Jose, silent till now, nodded, his wiry frame relaxed, his tattooed hip glinting as he watched Lana, her ass curving softly, her baby cooing.

Silas watched Jackson and Jose drift back to their women, the weight of their exchange lingering. "Ain't betrayin' nobody," he muttered to Sarah, his hand sliding to her ass, squeezing. "You're mine, girl. That's my race now--us." His voice was low, possessive, a thread of heat weaving through his defiance.

Sarah leaned into him, her embarrassment from Courtney's taunts fading under his touch. "Yeah," she whispered, her lips brushing his shoulder. "Us." The play area buzzed with the kids' chatter, but her mind drifted to their room--the intensity of his mouth on her, his cock deep inside her, the best sex she'd ever had. "Round two tonight," she murmured, a promise echoing his earlier words.

Silas grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Damn right. Gonna fuck you till you can't walk straight." His hand lingered, a bold claim in this crowded, half-naked world. Dinner loomed soon, but for now, they stood together, a united front against Jackson's bitterness and the bunker's simmering tensions.

The dinner hour arrived, and Silas and Sarah led Tommy, Ellie, and Grace into the cafeteria, the stainless steel kitchen gleaming under the artificial glow of sun-mimicking lamps. The space buzzed with quiet chatter, the air thick with the scent of cooked grains and vegetables--a stark contrast to the wasteland above. Tonight, Dr. Edwin Park stood behind the counter, his gaunt frame moving with precision as he ladled portions onto plates. It was his turn to cook, a rotating duty among the adults, and the meal was casual but strictly controlled. A pot of steamed rice and a vegetable stew sat steaming beside a tray of leftovers from previous days--options for those who didn't care for the night's fare, though every bite was rationed, a reminder of the bunker's finite resources. All the food waste goes to the pigs.