Chapter 16
"Well, any news?" I asked Samuel, who showed me an envelope with a letter from his wife, Ravneet.
I showed him an identical one from Summer. It smelled of her ... and it wasn't perfume, either. I wondered how the mail guy felt about the scent of my fiancee's pussy on the envelope, since it was likely that he recognized the smell. Judging by that aroma, I wasn't too shocked at the good news that it contained. No "Dear John" letter for me.
Instead, I got this...
Dear Master,
So, I'm pregnant. Yep. It snuck up on me, in fact. I didn't realize it for a good while, but evidently, I'm already four months along. That puts my conception at December, doesn't it? Close to Christmas, of course. Which means that either you or Barry could be the Daddy. Kayla is also pregnant, but hers is more recent. Six weeks. That, of course, guarantees that Barry is the father.
Hopefully, the next babies are from the opposite sire as this round. Maybe we should plan it that way, if you wish. In case you wondered, yes, we played a little with some outside booty, but it was all female of late. Specifically, your ex-comrade, Joanna. We had so much fun sharing her that we didn't bother going outside of that. You never told us that she was Puerto Rican, not that we minded at all.
By the way, she's pregnant, too. She came looking for you, the father of her child, and well, we welcomed her with open arms ... and thighs. Suffice it to say that I think that we have five adults in this household now, at the very least, assuming that you don't bring anyone home yourself. She's very eager for this reunion, trust me on that front.
Oh, Kayla now works with us at the diner. Joanna works at the local family planning clinic. On the downside, I've been harassed by Dirk a lot lately. He has taken to stalking me. I've reported the matter to the police and they are working on it, but I fear the worst might happen while you're away. It wouldn't be your fault, of course. Don't ever think that.
I just have to be careful. The three of us are glad that Barry's gun rights are restored, too. We practice marksmanship quite often, thank you very much, hon. That 9mm Luger is rather useful to me, just as Kayla's .38 special revolver is to her, Joanna's .45 Glock, and his twelve gauge shotgun and .357 magnum Smith and Wesson is to Barry.
Don't worry. If Dirk ever sets foot in the house, he'll only leave in a body bag. We will shoot to kill. I won't be his slave ever again. I am your slave instead. He killed any love I had for him years ago. I'm convinced of it. Oh, and the diner is really picking up business, so Kayla's involvement as a partner in the effort has paid off rather handsomely.
Please give me an update on how things are with everyone, including that lovely lady doctor that you're clearly sweet on, okay, babe? Even more importantly, are you safe? I heard on the radio and saw briefly on TV how both Durham and Winston-Salem have been captured by the Militia. I hope that you survived whichever battle it was, and that you will come out of this theater of operations entirely unscathed. Please come back to me, babe.
I can't wait to walk down the aisle in a double wedding with Barry and Kayla, you know. Joanna is evidently an ordained minister, so she's offered to officiate. Apparently, leaving the Catholic Church for the Episcopal Church has paid off for her. There's no way in Hell that even the new and improved Vatican will allow women priests, of course, or married ones, let alone divorced ones.
I look forward to our honeymoon, too, dear. I look forward to becoming Summer Walker. I look forward to our marriage, which includes Barry and Kayla ... and now Joanna, at least. I know that you will be glad to reunite with us, as we will be with you. Please remember, though, our deal. No Dirk. No Megan. Our love is open to sharing with some, but not all. We both agreed to that.
Please come back safe, soon, and most of all, alive. I've been rather saucy in this letter and I'm eager to get the spanking that I so richly deserve for it. What, didn't you know that there was another motive to my sass? Master knows what I need, don't you? I've been without a firm hand for far too long. My bottom itches for your hands to bruise it.
Your naughty love slave, Summer
"Damn, that's some fucking letter there! Let's see what Ravneet has to say to me," Samuel now exclaimed.
It was a bit shorter and also a bit sadder.
Dear Samuel,
There is no easy way to say this, but I've discovered that I'm stranded here in Johannesburg for the foreseeable future. The war is going on rather nastily and the infrastructure is in terrible shape, including railways, overland roads, and airports leaving South Africa. ANC vs. Communists vs. Inkatha vs. the various white nationalist factions vs. so many other heavily armed warlords, rogue army units, militias, etc.
That's why I'm going to have to do something terrible, both for your sakes and for mine. I don't know if I have a future or if you do. We need to let each other go. I will always love you, Sam. I swear to God I do. I love you too much to keep you waiting in vain. I love you enough to let you go. You need to do the same for me.
I'm asking you for a divorce. May God forgive us both. Find a good woman. I'll try to find a good man. Let's start over and wish each other well in our hearts. We're forcibly separated, probably for life, and that's no marriage and you know it.
For the last time.
Love, Ravneet, your wife
Samuel sat there in stunned silence, unable to move a muscle. I had never seen a man so crushed, not even me when Megan betrayed me. He was proof positive that just because one cheated on one's spouse didn't mean that he or she had to love them any less. If Samuel hadn't loved Ravneet, he wouldn't be that devastated at the end of their marriage and their likely permanent separation. The Great Pulse had ended their romance and Samuel couldn't stand it.
All I could think about was ... what could I ever possibly say to such a man? My elation at the letter from Summer was now gone, replaced by my empathy for my friend and colleague, Dr. Samuel Singh. It was Anne who did what was necessary. The look on her face spoke volumes and I accepted it. No threesomes tonight. It wasn't for the best. Singh didn't need an orgy. He needed slow, one-on-one lovemaking, spooning, and cuddling. He needed pillow talk. He needed solace.
And there wasn't a man on Earth who could give that to a straight man like Dr. Samuel Singh. I politely excused myself and went to check the news, which reported already on the atrocities discovered in the early phases of fighting against the Communists in Lancaster. That was farther north, of course, in the Pennsylvania Theater of Operations. What I saw shook me all over again.
A mass grave ... filled with Amish executed by the damn Reds. No, this war was far from over. It wouldn't end until this was America again. Not the old America, but a better one, reunified and risen from the ashes of the old.
Chapter 17
Every stroke of my cock going in and out of Sergeant Kara Soares worked very well with similar thrusts from my comrade, Second Lieutenant Aaron Goldberg. Each of us timed it as well as we could, ensuring that she didn't have any time where her pussy was vacant for even a second. Sometimes, and more often than expected, we overlapped and I felt his dick next to mine inside her juicy twat, of course, which excited her even more.
"Oh, God ... fuck, yeah! You guys ... fuck ... this is ... great!" Kara shouted as she creamed herself on our pricks.
We didn't have as much time for our threesome as we wished to go all-out, of course. We knew that we would have to take a rain check on the other activities, especially the parts that involved me butt-fucking each of them. It didn't matter. It was an intense, powerful encounter that none of us would forget, short-lived though it might be.