1 comments/ 18061 views/ 0 favorites Revenge of the Pothead Ch. 01 By: SEVERUSMAX This was written by myself on another site under the pen name of "Col.Jack Harrison". My debt to society, the sons of bitches called it. Did I borrow the pot or somehow damage my neighbors by using it? What a load of horseshit! I got my ass busted by DEA thugs, arrested, charged, tried, convicted, and sentenced to LIFE in a federal prison for "trafficking in narcotics". As if that stuff was for anything but my own personal use. I was just smart enough to stash it up (or dumb enough, in hindsight) so that I wouldn't risk my freedom on each buy. Look, I enjoy pot. That's just a fact. It was bad enough that the stupid Congress had to outlaw the wonderful weed. Then they had to get REALLY full of it and set mandatory minimum sentences for mere possession of marijuana as part of their "War On Drugs". Don't we have enough enemies without declaring war on narcotics? Terrorism, at least, IS a real threat. DRUGS, on the other hand, include everything from cough syrup to heroin. Well, I had been in a federal prison for 5 years of my life sentence when the Great Pulse struck. I don't have any use for anarchists and they DID fuck up the country (and the rest of the world) with their EMP strike. However, they inadvertently did me a personal favor. You see, the new governments of the various parts of the former USA didn't always share the absurd views of their predecessor: the often unconstitutional Government of the United States of America. I had lost my cowardly wife, Megan, to this whole drug bust thing. Even though she used some of my pot for herself, she divorced me to salvage part of our marital assets from "civil forfeiture", another unconstitutional action of Uncle Sam that would make the Founding Fathers spin in their graves. I ended up with nothing, while that greedy bitch saved her share. Where the hell is the justice in that situation? I heard somewhere that she later got caught driving with half a bottle of gin in her system. Now THAT was some karma! She lost her license, spent a few months in county jail, and had to go to rehab for alcoholism. That's still a far cry from what happened to me. SHE endangered everyone on the same road as herself and got a virtual slap on the wrist. I, on the other hand, smoked some harmless weed and got sent to a federal hell-hole. I also lost a 5 figure job as a registered nurse, which was the same occupation that my ex-wife practiced. That was how we met. Well, she may have cared about her patients, but she proved completely callous about her own husband. My nursing license was revoked and I had to work in the prison sweatshop, making ball bearings for less than minimum wage. There is no inmates' union, after all. That was my life for 5 long years. I had adjusted to it, up to a point. I fucked a cellmate who later got paroled. That didn't mean that I got laid frequently. In fact, anyone who tried to rape me got his ass kicked. I was mostly nice, but vicious about that issue. My fellow inmates soon learned to leave me the hell alone. I otherwise made no trouble and got a reputation as a good, hard-working, and even well-educated prisoner. The guards looked down at me, but they didn't have an excuse to do anything about it. I made a point of not giving them one. They just didn't like my attitude of smoldering resentment toward the system. I had no chance of parole for the same reason and I knew it. The only hearing I attended, at which there were NO witnesses on my behalf, quickly showed me that the board regarded me as a "willful and unrepentant offender". They said that I had the wrong opinion of my prosecution and that I refused to accept any "responsibility" for my "crime". I told them that it wasn't a crime in my book and that I regarded the system as "unjust". That sealed my fate in their eyes: I would never leave prison alive. 19 August, 2010, U.S. Penitentiary, South Charleston, WV: "Ralph Henry Walker, wake up!" the guard shouted. I got, startled at the sound of a "screw" interrupting my Sunday morning sleep. Why the hell were they bugging me? I had behave myself lately, hadn't I? "Yes, that's me and I'm up! There's no need to sound like my mom," I retorted. "Come with us to the Warden's office. Something major has happened, not that I have to like it," the corrections officer smirked. "Then it's good news for me, I take it," I taunted him. "Shut your smart mouth, prisoner," he ordered me. I got quiet, not wanting to provoke him too much. If there WAS good news, after all, I didn't want to blow it by mouthing off to the prison staff. I walked into the Warden's office, past the other cells full of ignorant, sleeping convicts. "Sit down, Mr. Walker. Something big has happened to you," the Warden instructed me. He was a tight-lipped, raspy-voiced, chain-smoking bureaucratic jackass with a plain blue suit: talk about cliché! "What is it?" I demanded, sensing a chance to probe him. "You're a free man. It's as simple as that," he told me. "What, did the parole board change their minds?" I asked him. "Hardly. It wasn't up to them. It was a political decision over my head and theirs. If I had my way, you'd still be sleeping in the bunk bed of your cell," he declared. "Nice to know how you feel about me, Warden. I'm touched," I reacted sarcastically. "Shut up and listen. You're not out of here yet. I've been ordered to give you the time and means to prepare for your return to society, not that you belong there. There has been a general amnesty for all citizens who are, let me quote this document, 'wrongfully imprisoned simply for possession and trafficking of the drug marijuana, which has been decriminalized'. A quarter of my inmates are about to be back on the streets. I figured that I would start with you, since you're the most qualified for release of the despicable lot. "Thank your friends in the Republican Front for that. They decided to give all potheads amnesty for their 'consensual crimes'. Let's just say that the new regime has just created a headache for itself, if you ask me. I don't want the likes of you running loose and influencing my kids, but my superiors in Morgantown think that they know better. They claim that they are more 'enlightened' than the good ol' Feds. I beg to differ, but I don't have a say. I'm the low man on the totem pole of their much vaunted 'Revolution'," the Warden snorted. "So, I can get dressed and walk out of here? Have they decided where I live, not I'm too worried about that. I'm just glad to be headed out of here," I responded. "You'll be staying in a hostel for newly released citizens. That's what they call it. I hope that you stay out of trouble. You're a pain in my ass, so half of me is thinking 'good riddance'. Given your views and the Front's, something tells me you'll be on their good side for a while, at least," he commented. After changing into my old clothes (which were loose around my skin), I got my other possessions and headed straight for the gate. There, I was stopped by one of the guards. "You need THIS, buddy," he said, handing me a new state ID. It showed my face (from my old, heavier photo) and details about me. It also showed my status: newly released citizen. Another item of interest was the address it listed for me, presumably that of the hostel. "You also require this card. It's a voucher to 'compensate a newly released citizen for unjust imprisonment'. It's redeemable for $50 provisional in your temporary bank account. The rest is up to you. The State is at war, so it can't afford to 'reimburse' you for all of your 'suffering'. You can stay at the hostel, but you need to find a job ASAP. Life is rough out there, especially for jobless ex-cons," he warned me. Stunned as I was at being released so abruptly, I was definitely delighted. Luckily, I lived close to the hostel. Apparently, that was the Front's idea, to make the ex-con hostels in easy walking distance of the prison. Basically penniless, I was still free to rebuild my life and, hopefully, my career. That was another issue. COULD I resume my career? There was nothing said about restoring my nursing license. I even had to get a new drivers' license and vehicle. What would I do in the meantime? Would anyone hire me, with the past 5 years of my life spent in a federal prison? Would I still have the taint of a junkie and criminal? I didn't have any children with Megan, because she had a hysterectomy 12 years before. That, therefore, was not a concern. I DID want revenge on my ex, though, for the way that she treated me during the trial. That would have to wait a bit, but I WOULD get back at her for it! I weighed all of this on my way to the hostel, wondering what sort of room I would be assigned. I must have looked like a hitchhiker, with my backpack full of books and other useful items, my blue jeans, and my denim shirt. I even had an old baseball cap on my shaved head. Yes, I had done that in jail, since it intimidated people more and I didn't have any women to attract. What would be next? Would I move on with my life or stay a pathetic ex-con, struggling hopelessly with my past? I decided firmly to do the former, whatever it took. This Republican Front looked like a good place to start. I wonder if they registered members like an old-fashioned political party? Were they more like the behemoths that governed most one-party states? In any case, Party membership wouldn't hurt my cause. The Front seemed pretty cool, especially considering how much the Warden hated it. Revenge of the Pothead Ch. 02 This story was written by myself on another site under the pen name of "Col. Jack Harrison". I was jolted out of my slumber by a telephone call. I got up and saw a number that I dialed before on my caller ID. I had a headache, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from answering THIS call. It was from the head of the Republican Front's South Charleston branch. "Hello?" I spoke nervously. "Hello, Mr. Walker. This is Dr. Marcellus Simms, head of the South Charleston branch of the Republican Front. I have heard that you are interested in joining the Front. We are always pleased to hear that. Despite what you may fear, there are no restrictions against newly released citizens becoming members. In fact, quite a few of our members are ex-cons. One of the reasons for declaring the amnesty for marijuana users was to help enroll people whose talents were wasted with incarceration. As a matter of fact, the Commandant is considering a broader one to cover so-called offenses like 'statutory rape' and other things no longer illegal. "Ultimately, the goal of the Revolution is a more liberated and enlightened society, where dictatorship will not necessary or possible anymore. Col. Lomax wishes to be known as the LAST American dictator. Tyranny by unrestrained majority rule will be impossible too. The courts will be given clear jurisdiction over certain matters, with more specialization to prevent judicial abuses. Legislatures will know EXACTLY what kind of laws they can and can't pass. "You might think of Col. Lomax as an American Sulla or Marius, seeking to restructure the government to adapt to modern reality, so that it can survive with its institutions intact in the future. This will not be socialism, fascist or Marxist. It will not be Communism or fundamentalism. It will be something closer to the ideals of the Enlightenment," the man informed him. "So, you're the leader of the Republican Front for all of South Charleston and you wish to meet me? Any particular reason?" I wondered. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Your files here say that you were once a registered nurse. To be frank, we need nurses in the Militia. Would you be interested in joining? When the fighting is over, part of the Militia will become a regular army and the rest will be the reserve components, just like the old days. You could then decide if you wanted to return to a mostly civilian life. What do you think? Interested in the job? You'd be a least a 2nd lieutenant. Between Front membership and your specialty, you would be respected in the ranks," Dr. Simms explained. "Would my regular nursing license be restored or would this only be for the Militia?" I inquired. "Eventually, we would recommend a restoration of your license, if you wished it. The state license board is not likely to disregard our suggestions. In the meantime, you would be assigned to act as a field nurse in a war zone, where they are badly needed. The most likely location would be in Virginia, where the criminal forces of Mr. Marion 'Pat' Robertson are holding onto Virginia Beach. This is a critical area, since we must secure the coastline. Col. Lomax has already overrun all of West Virginia, most of Maryland, the District of Columbia, and all but a few areas in Virginia. Only the cities of Virginia Beach and Norfolk in Virginia and the peninsular section of Maryland are still resisting us. "Unfortunately, the Robertson forces are fanatically opposing us, causing a lot of casualties in the process. Naturally, this means a great strain on our nursing corps. Hopefully, we can keep your personal danger to a minimum. However, the enemy might still try to attack our noncombatant personnel, which you would be. They are desperate to prevent us from capturing their town, because they are afraid of what we will do when we take it. Robertson is doomed to be shot and he knows it," the party chief announced. "So, you're offering me a commission in the Militia as a nurse. In that case, I accept. I have nothing better to do, after all. How much party discipline is there? Is this one of those regimes where you have to recite a dogma?" I asked curiously. "It's not like the People's Republic of Pennsylvania, with their First Secretary Kurt Wagner and his doctrinaire Marxist-Leninism. We are not imposing a permanent one-party state. Like I said, we advocate an enlightened liberal democracy. It's just a question of fighting off the enemies of freedom and national sovereignty. The future America will be a federal republic, only slighter different from the one established by the Founding Fathers. "We are asking for your patriotic service to the Union and the Revolution. Will you join both the Republican Front and the Militia, offering your assistance to our brave, wounded soldiers? We will be most grateful for your commitment to the nation," he told me. "Very well. I will also join the Republican Front itself. I had been thinking about it, anyway, as I stated. I will be a good nurse and will try to be a fine officer. Thank you for your confidence, Dr. Simms," I agreed, while chasing some aspirin with soda. "Thank you for your loyalty to the Republic, Mr. Walker. Believe me, this is a struggle for the ideals of the first American Revolution, being carried out through the second one. We will have to put you through OCS and some basic military training, of course, but that won't take long. I expect that you will do well at helping us defeat the kind of leaders that caused your unjust imprisonment. This training will be expedited because of the urgent needs of war. Besides, you already have training in your specialty," Dr. Simms assured me. "Very well, sir. I will do my best for my country. So, what is my pay and will it be directly deposited into my account?" I probed. "You will get a starting net salary of $30,000 provisional, until the pressures of war can ease the economic hardships on the Government. We're still trying to collect revenue through taxes and war bonds. It's not easy, but we do what is necessary," he clarified. "And the liberation of those cities in Virginia will improve things by providing income through tariffs and trade," I got the gist of his statement. "Indeed, it will. You ARE a smart one. I suppose that is normal for a nurse. Yes, the import duties for foreign products will be most useful in financing the Revolution. We're in a similar situation to the Federal and Confederate Governments in the last Civil War. With any luck, we can get the circumstances changed for the better. Don't worry, we will keep in contact and get you to our boot camp in Beckley. It will done by a C-130 cargo plane. You will be with about 20 other men and women in a variety of specialties," he remarked. "That sounds great," I concurred. After Dr. Simms hung up, I started preparing for my new career as a military nurse. It was like something out of the old TV show "MASH", except that this wouldn't be so funny. The country was being ripped apart by civil strife and I had to help treat the symptoms of the national disease. Then again, in every civil war, somebody had to win. I definitely knew that the last thing that I wanted was for the Christian Coalition to triumph. This war MEANT something. It would save important things like personal freedom and the separation of church and state. Ultimately, I was better off fighting for great things than rotting in a federal prison for something that should be legal in the first place. Something told me that, if we won, things like civil forfeiture and mandatory minimum sentences for marijuana use would be history. That was the old, corrupt system. The new way of doing things would be much better. My roommates at the hostels didn't make a big deal of it, except to be worried that I would be killed in action. I told them that I was a noncombatant and that I would be doing what I wanted, instead of bagging groceries for some supermarket. I would be a nurse again. They teased me a little about being a MALE nurse, until I reminded them that this job would involve wearing a green uniform and learning to fire an M-16 (just in case). "So, you'll be in the Party now, eh?" Summer, the sister of one of my more obnoxious roommates, teased me after she followed me during my walk. "That's right, though it's actually called the Front by members," I taunted her back. "Does that mean you'll be connected?" she joked. "Probably, for what good it will do me. I'm going to Virginia, remember?" I pointed out. "And you might still, theoretically, get killed?" she added. "Thanks for reminding me," I snorted. "You haven't been laid in years and you might be shot before you can fuck again, right?" Summer noted. "Oh, another wonderful thought that you had to give me! Look, with any luck, I'll find a girl after the war," I reacted. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to depress you. I was just looking for an excuse to... um... ," she stammered. "Get in the sack with me?" I finished for her. "Well... yes... if you're interested," she admitted. "Since when do you need an excuse for THAT? I wouldn't mind getting some action," I flirted with her. "Hmm... well, I like the way you think. I'm sorry. I'm still a little nervous about the idea of fucking someone outside of a relationship. It's why I rushed into my last marriage, which didn't work out so well," she blushed. "What happened?" I inquired. "He turned out to be an abusive drunk. What about you? Were you ever married or involved with anyone?" Summer probed. "I'm divorced. My ex decided that she wanted to save HER part of the marital assets from civil forfeiture. Basically, I got screwed out of ALL of my money, not just half like most ex-husbands. She left me when it got a little rough. She didn't have any complaints when I let her smoke my weed, though," I answered bitterly. "I take it that you're still angry at her," she commented. "Yeah, a bit. Are you still mad at your ex?" I asked her. "Sure. He was a brutal man when he drank. Look, I know that she probably didn't deserve to keep half of your wealth after doing what she did, but I needed the cash to survive after Dirk spent most of our pay on booze. The man needed help, but I needed to pay the bills. Sometimes, community property makes sense," she stated. "Maybe so, but not when your wife treats you like a gangrened arm that has to be severed. There were no attempts to prove my innocence or help me with my appeals. She didn't show up for my parole hearing or anything! She just left me like that! She betrayed me," I declared. "I know that and I feel bad for you. The drug laws were stupid and I don't miss them. They meant well, though, trying to save people from addictions like my ex had with liquor. I'm just trying to point out that there are cases where one spouse or another needs a share of the assets. Speaking of assets, though, don't you want to take me out and get me into the sack tonight?" she responded. "Damn, that will be a record first date. Most of them have just ended a kiss for me. Mind you, I've only had 12 in my life, including one with my ex. What do you say to some Italian?" I suggested. "Sounds nice. I don't have time to wait for a relationship. You are clearly a great guy and you might get killed. Despite my joking, I'm not just interested in your supposed connections with the Republican Front. I just wanted a way to flirt with you," Summer winked at me. "So, for you, this is an opportunity that might never happen again. Plus, you want to cut loose and find out what a one-night stand is like. So would I. I've never really had casual sex before, at least not as a free man. I don't count prison sex, anyway," I replied. "Why not? You enjoyed it, didn't you?" she teased me. "Somewhat. At least it wasn't prison rape. But it was more raw frustration than attraction or interest. It wasn't that far removed from masturbation," I clarified. "Who was it with? Your cellmate?" she interrogated me. "Yeah. He was openly gay and practically threw himself at me. I think that he had more fun than I did, as a matter of fact. I just washed my dick and wished that I had worn a rubber. Unfortunately, they don't give you those in prison. Come to think of it, we might want to use protection tonight. I could have HIV or an STD, you know," I proposed. "Have you burned while pissing, felt an itch down there, or suffered cold sores?" she questioned. "No. I guess that eliminates gonorrhea, crab lice, and genital herpes," I laughed. "Unless you have HIV then, there are few diseases left to worry about," she taunted me. "Yes and I'm a nurse. I know the symptoms. But HIV is even more serious. Are you sure that you want to take that chance or accept the risk of having my baby?" I warned her. "It wouldn't bother me to have your kid, as long as I know that you'll be there for the child. As for HIV, well THAT is a concern. However, I have never felt a condom inside me and I guess that I'm spoiled in that regard. I just want to feel your cock in my pussy, filling me and stretching me out. I like it kind of rough. That was the one GOOD thing about my ex. He was not too gentle to get me off," Summer announced. "You're willing to risk your life over that?" I asked incredulously. "Please. I know that it sounds insane, but I'm not really comfortable with the idea of a latex sheath in my cunt. I'll be assuming the danger voluntarily and I don't think that it's a great one. You've only had ONE sexual partner in 5 years, after all. I haven't been with anyone in 6 months and that was Dirk. So, would you forego a raincoat this once?" she pleaded. "Very well, but I just hope that we have better luck than in the past," I commented. "True. Would you like me to drive? I'm not interested in walking the whole distance and I know that you haven't had the chance to get a new license. I wouldn't want you to get in more legal trouble so soon after your release from prison. You can pay for dinner if that makes you feel better," she offered. "What does your brother think of all this? His 24 year old sister is dating an ex-con like himself and planning to exchange bodily fluids with him?" I ribbed her. "What Barry doesn't know won't hurt him. He may be a protective older brother, but I'm a grown woman now. He wouldn't lash out at me, anyway. He might get mad at YOU, but then you'll be safely in Virginia, far away from his wrath," she giggled. After dinner, in which I went through that food like a starving man, we headed to Summer's place instead of the hostel. She looked at me like I was a movie star or something. I just assumed that she hadn't had much experience with men, aside from her alcoholic ex. At 39, I must have seemed like a mature, older man. Apparently, that was attractive to her. That wasn't exactly bad news from my perspective. "Is there something wrong with my face or is my shaved head a nice mirror?" I teased her again. "I just find you to be sexy. In fact, I kind of like your head that way. How long have you had it like that?" she asked me. "Only since I went to prison. Ironically, I got it because women weren't a possibility anymore. I wanted to scare off potential rapists. Looking like a skinhead usually works, not that I care for neo-Nazis. Plus, it just seems more menacing to be bald. I remember watching 'Flash Gordon' and being terrified by Emperor Ming. So, just how rough do you like it?" I wondered. "I'd be fine with getting it up the ass, if you want," she invited me. "You would? Have you taken it there before?" I asked her. "Actually, yes. Dirk gave it to me a lot. It hurt terribly at first, but I got used to it. After a while, my pussy was drenched any time that he got anywhere near my tush," Summer urged me. "Anything else that I should know about you?" I taunted her. "Yes. I enjoy ass to mouth as well," she winked. Damn, this girl is wilder than I thought, I realized. She just seemed like a typical divorcee when we first met. She practically begged me to fuck her in the ass. That will be no problem for me. She'll be the first woman to get my dick there. The others in my past, including Megan, were too prissy for that kind of activity. "Very well. Drop your pants and bend over," I instructed the sultry blonde. She snickered as she complied with my command. Evidently, this kind of forceful attitude, a product of my prison term, was very stimulating to the young lady. She wanted a MAN, not a boy. Well, after 5 years in a penitentiary, I was undoubtedly a man. There was no childish naivete or fear left in me. I had been to Hell and come back alive: the only Hell that really existed. I no longer believed in God or the Devil. I just believed in myself and people like Summer. We were the only good left in the Cosmos. As I saw that delicious butt in front of me, I had no difficulty with the idea of rimming it. My tongue was instinctively drawn to her sphincter. I lovingly ran it along her crack, delighting in the exquisite taste of her ass. I also noted the goose bumps on her cheeks as she reacted to my mouth. My manhood hardened quickly as a result of the experience of eating her bottom. "You're giving me chills," she moaned as I tossed her salad. "Good, because it means that you're enjoying it," I remarked between kisses on her pucker. "Oh, fuck, that's amazing! Please keep doing it until I cum," she pleaded. "Gladly," I answered as I feasted on her tush. Summer squirmed as I continued to lick her ass. Her buns felt cool and smooth to my hands when I grabbed them. I had long desired to do this to a lady, but no woman would go along with it. They all considered it "perverted" and frequently dumped me for requesting it. Her response was to ask for more. That was an extremely good sign in my opinion. I also tasted her cheeks, loving the texture of them. I even nibbled on her buttocks, making her flinch from the sensation. She grunted and groaned in delight, beginning to feel the approach of a climax. She pushed her ass back at my face, inviting me to stick my tongue inside her backdoor. My mouth indulged that particular pleasure with relish, reaming her hole enthusiastically. She sighed as my tongue invaded her. She began to shake and sweat, even grabbing onto the nearest furniture in the room: a chair. She soon felt the full effects of her orgasm, as her knees almost buckled under the excitement. I could smell the delectable scent of her ecstatic cunt. "It's clear that you had fun," I needled her as she stood up for a second to regain her balance. "I think that you're not too miserable yourself," she pointed to my thickening dick. "Well, he HAS awakened," I laughed. "What did that to him?" Summer grinned. "I believe it was rimming your sweet butt, my dear," I winked at her. "Hmmm... I guess that you'll REALLY love fucking my ass, then," she told me as she got on all fours on the hardwood floor. The way that she presented her bottom to me was unmistakable. She was offering me the free use of her asshole. I was too smart to decline that proposition, so I slid my cock inside her backdoor. As it was loosened by lube, my tongue, and her anal sweat, I had no trouble easing my meat into her sphincter. To see that she knew sodomy was to make an understatement. She pushed her hot hole in my direction, meeting my dick halfway. My manhood felt the interior of her butt, which was still rather tight. It reminded me that she had no sex in a long time, either. The poor thing was only getting a taste of what had been denied her for too long. While I rammed Summer's ass, I felt her sighing again. Her pale body seemed to ache with need, suggesting that she was even more sex-starved than I previously expected. Something inside me wished that I didn't have to leave soon, but I had every intention of returning. I didn't know if we would have a romance, but some kind of physical relationship would be good for both of us. We were very much in the same boat. Revenge of the Pothead Ch. 02 Of course, I couldn't expect her to wait for me. I also might find someone else. Nevertheless, there was the chance that we might renew our contact. Part of me wanted to be with her permanently, while another part was convinced that, after so many years of celibacy, I needed to play the field somewhat. I had some catching up to do. Oh, well, that was a problem for the months and years ahead. For now, I would enjoy the company and body of this delightful lady. I didn't focus on those thoughts very long, as the heat and tightness of her ass affected my throbbing cock. Instead, I thrust more forcefully into her butt, stretching it more. She seemed to whimper as I buggered her so aggressively. Then again, her noises suggested more pleasure than pain by now. At last, my dick jumped and jerked as I spilled my juice inside her asshole. My jism was impressive, as I had not cum in a girl for so many years. I had masturbated, but not as much as one might think. It tended to attract unwanted attention from fellow inmates. Anyway, my seed filled her backdoor as I slipped my cock out. Summer immediately turned around and put her mouth on my meat. She really meant what she had said about "ass to mouth"! Her tongue started cleaning my manhood of her own anal sweat, along with my cum. It seemed to excite her to know that she was tasting and servicing a cock that had just been in her own butt. "Well, Mr. Walker?" she laughed as she finished licking me, her blue eyes obviously full of mischief. "Please call me Ralph. No one who has just had anal sex with me needs to be so damn formal!" I laughed. "Oh, no sir! You're an older man. That's what I like and respect about you. I ENJOY getting butt-fucked by a man that I call 'Mister'. It's just something that I have discovered about myself. Blame porn with its sexy images of schoolgirls serving their principals. I know now why I used to do things that got me into trouble. Even if I get married again, the man will be older and I will call him 'Mr. Something' or 'sir'. I find age and authority attractive in a man," she told me as she gulped down my cum. "Then call me 'sir', but not 'Mr. Walker'. That just makes me feel like I'm my dad or something weird like that," I ordered her. "Very well, sir. Maybe I should call you 'lieutenant' after you get back. I can't promise to be chaste until then, but I won't ask the same of you, either. I CAN assure you that I probably won't be dating anyone seriously. How does that sound to you?" she posed the question. "That will work for me. When I get back, we'll discuss the rules of any relationship that we might have," I agreed. "That makes sense," she replied..... Revenge of the Pothead Ch. 03 The next few weeks were the proverbial blur, one could say. There was Militia training, initiation into the officer corps, and orientation as a field nurse. Compared to being a civilian RN, this was something quite different. I was busy, which I really liked, but I didn't have time for any kind of personal life. Nor did the reality of the battlefield change this for me. I was harried, hustling from one wounded soldier to another. The number of combatants greatly outweighed the noncombatant personnel, which was not surprising. This was a civil war, after all. The furious and desperate zeal of the Robertsonites made it far worse than it might have been. I could see exactly why the Militia needed me so much. I killed no one myself, but there were times when I feared that I might have no alternative soon. The weeks continued to fade into the next weeks, with the casualty lists growing longer by the second. Unfortunately for the Coalition, there were far more Militia to spare than "warriors of God". The zealots died hard, but no one took their places in the trenches. Position after position, bunker after bunker, and barricade after barricade, our side gained more territory. The Coalition made its last-ditch stand at City Hall in Virginia Beach. Their ammo dumps gone, their bullets down to those in the magazines of their own small arms, and their quartermaster already a POW, Robertson's troops held out for a miracle for another fortnight. Snipers, while amateurs by Republican Front standards, killed off dozens of cocky young Militiamen, but it did them no good. They fought stubbornly on the last day with revolvers and Molotov cocktails, but Robertson and his fanatics were aware of their imminent defeat. They simply had no reason to surrender. Life after defeat was too galling for them, especially the old televangelist himself. He knew that he would get shot either way, so he fired every round in his chamber. I was so close to the front lines at this point that I saw a barrage of .223 bullets rip open his neck and torso, killing the public enemy at last. My last sight of the short, bitter conflict between the Republican Front and the Christian Coalition was the public cremation of the enemy dead in a city that had gone from resort to war zone. The civilians were largely in hiding at first, though they began to reveal themselves after a few hours. In weeks, I was back in Kanawha County, now living in the Bachelor Officers' Quarters at the local Militia base. There were no parades for us, because everyone knew that the fighting was hardly over in most of the country or the world. This was just one more campaign to recover territory from counterrevolutionary scum. There were to be more wars to fight soon, and I would just have to wait for the final homecoming a while longer. Even so, on my first 48 hours of liberty, I ran into a familiar face at the nearest diner. She was very thrilled to see me alive. Summer had a grin as wide as a lottery winner's back in the old days. She seemed to believe that she had won the jackpot, at least sexually speaking. "Hey, sir, what would you like to eat?" she asked me, taking unusual pleasure in her service to this particular patron. "Well, I hoped for a nice clam dinner, but I'll settle for the best food in West Virginia," I teased her with a rather deviant gripe. "Oh, I wouldn't give up hope for that, just as I haven't quit salivating over the prospect of a unique kind of sausage. But short of that, I recommend the chicken-fried steak. It's an artery-clogging dream come true. The potatoes are hand-cut, by the way. I'll let you guess whose fingers held the knife that peeled them," Summer winked to reassure me that she wanted to start our fling once again. "Wow, she cooks, too! You really are a hillbilly's ideal woman, and I mean that as a compliment. I might well have to make an honest woman out of you, as the old-fogies used to say. Still live where you did before?" I probed with horny anticipation. "Yep. There's always room for a certain lieutenant, if the Militia will let him live off-base. At the very least, he can come to visit me whenever his superiors allow it," the blonde made it evident. I had only slept with one other woman since getting out of prison, and that was another nurse in a heated quickie during a very short lull in the hostilities. There was no real sleep, and we both knew that there was no chance of a future. She was married, but she hadn't seen her husband since his desertion. I had the impression that she fucked me to scratch her itch and retaliate for her hubby's cowardice. I just had the former reason, of course. That being true, I had no objection to again seeing this naturally blonde, All-American diner waitress with her playful blue eyes and lustful smile. Her admitted preference for male authority figures made it that much easier for me. I didn't know how long we might last, but even a short-lived relationship would be nice for me, after my long romantic drought. Then again, marriage to her sounded even better, if she would have me. "Well, we could always just get hitched, if you would prefer," I replied, half in jest. "Hey, I haven't had any better offers," Summer remarked with a sigh of pleasure at the idea. "A babe like you?" I expressed my doubts about that comment. "I didn't say no offers, mind you. I just haven't had any better than yours," she pointed out. "Now, that is more credible. So, what do you think about it?" I rather informally popped the question. "What happens if we don't last?" "We become roommates who share a last name and use each other as a booty call. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?" I grinned at the idea of that worst-case scenario and the logic involved in my proposal. "Oh, what the hell? I get a hunk for a roommate who can help me pay the rent. And I get to sleep with him into the bargain. What are the drawbacks, again?" Summer laughed. "You're actually considering it, then?" I reacted with pleasant surprise. "Why not? This way, you get out of the Bachelor Officers' Quarters and I get to see my brother put on a tuxedo for the first time in years. That image in itself sounds great. Besides, being married to a male nurse sounds useful, anyway. You're a fine catch for any girl, especially in these hard times. Sure, I'll marry you. But there are two conditions," the blonde told me with a smile. "What are they?" I inquired, truly curious. "You have to knock me up, for one thing. I want at least one baby," she stuck her tongue out at me while saying that part. "Really? You want me to impregnate you?" "Sure, why not? Even if we don't last, you being my roommate would give me the stability needed to raise a child. You would be a great dad, I think, and the kid would be none the wiser until he was grown up. Which leads to the second condition," she said. "Which would be what?" I was truly mystified. "No divorce. Period. Like you said, we stay together as roommates. Not to mention fuckbuddies. That's if we prove less than soul mates," Summer explained with an easy grin. She clearly enjoyed the idea of us together as a couple, romantic or otherwise. "So, in between boyfriends and girlfriends, and such, we could screw each other silly," I teased her. "Honey, I don't care if you have a dozen girlfriends. Any time you want my body, you can have it on a silver platter. Marriage, however, is a dicier matter. If I am going to share my house with a guy, he'd better have something to make it worth my while. Otherwise, it can be a very rough place to live in. You see, I can be practical in my own way. Not all blondes are dumb. I'd suggest shacking up first, but I doubt the Militia would let its officers leave the Quarters short of something official to prove their intent to play house with a gal. As soft as I am on most issues, I am tough as nails about picking a roommate or husband," she clarified, with a mix of naughtiness and candor. "Well, you have a point about that," I shrugged, because she indeed had one. "Of course, I do. Look, I'll be honest. This thing between us has a better than even chance of working out, but I'll live either way. On the other hand, I badly want to be a mother, since there is less time to find that kind of love than the romantic kind. Also, I want a guarantee of regular cock, one way or the other. If I have to marry for convenience to get those things, then I'll do it. Hence my terms. If you have any requirements, I'll listen and consider them as well," Summer added. "So, no divorce. Well, I like that. Been there, done that. I am no fan of divorce. It's sometimes necessary, but it's ugly as hell. Suppose, however, one of us cheats. Do we automatically just revert to roommates and friends with benefits on an informal basis?" I wondered. "Maybe for you, if you really get that jealous and upset. But I'll be frank again with you. I don't give a flip about the whole fidelity issue. We're both human. We both have urges and needs. If you find a nice piece of ass and want to get yourself some strange, I won't even bat an eye. Well, okay, I'll bat them at you to get my own turn. "But as long as you do nothing to actually throw away the romantic side of our deal, I fail to see cause for any quarrel or change of status. The only things that I can think of that would end our love are the sort that would usually destroy a relationship: abuse, crime, or neglect. Well, and one more thing," she intimated with a rather intense and anticipatory look on her lovely face, clearly excited by the prospect of us getting together. "Which would be?" I was uncertain of what this could be. "A vasectomy. Sorry, but you get one before I conceive, and I walk out completely. Get one afterward, and we will definitely revert to purely sexual housemates. I won't cut you off, because I want permanent access to your cock and it would be wrong to deny you equal access to my pussy. But I'd be very disappointed in you, and it would certainly kill the romance. Also, since a vasectomy would deny me sex for a month and half, I would deprive you for exactly that period in retaliation. So, unless you wish the cold shoulder for 3 whole months, I don't recommend getting fixed," she warned me, albeit with her usual playfulness. "Alright, that's fair. But I do have one condition of my own," I stated baldly, quite unperturbed by her threat, as I didn't care for the idea of the Big V, either. "What is it? A threesome, perhaps? Consider it done. A gang-bang or an amateur porn film, even, and I wouldn't flinch. Your superiors might, but I doubt it. They're not prudes these days, from what I hear. Hell, I'd screw my brother, if you asked me. Anything for get the daily use of your dick, no questions asked. As long as you bone me every day, share the rent and other expenses, and put a bun in my oven, I'll go along with the program. So, what's the requirement?" she dared me in the same low volume that we'd been instinctively using for this particular conversation. "I get to be the boss in the bedroom. Period. We can do other things in other parts of the house, but the marriage bed is my domain. I like the idea that we explored before, of you submitting to my control," I asserted. "It's a deal. Looks like you got yourself a missus. Mrs. Ralph Walker has a nice sound to it, after all. I take it that this will continue, even if we become strictly physical. That's only fair. I like bondage and such things, anyway. I'll enjoy being your personal sex slave. I won't even ask for a safe word. I trust you not to do any real harm. Well, this is quite a day. Not every patron offers me so much over a plate of down-home comfort food," she giggled. "Yes, but they would if they got to know you better," I chuckled in reply. So what had started as flirting to see if we stood a chance led to an understanding that we would marry and have a unique relationship that would give both of us what we really wanted in life. Others might have thought it odd, but Summer and I didn't mind so much. After all, it wasn't a perfect world, so a great relationship fit it better than an ideal one, and this one was far from mediocre as mercenary marriages went. There were worse situations than getting laid for the rest of your life by a sweet blonde who cooked for the love of food and thought you were worth sharing with other gals. That was particularly true if she wanted to have your baby. The fact that she lacked most sexual inhibitions was a bonus indeed. Those were my thoughts when she got off work and asked me to come home with her again that night. The sight of her tongue gliding across her lips in anticipation as she ogled my package didn't exactly cool me off, either. Revenge of the Pothead Ch. 04 I had to pinch myself when Summer opened the front door for us and attacked me with her mouth as soon as the door slammed shut behind us. She didn't waste time at all, especially with the kissing part. After such a serious dry spell as I had, it would take a long time to get back in the habit of taking sex with women for granted. I was even a bit rusty with kissing girls. Prison sex, what little there was of it, is not exactly known for its romantic side. Summer nearly raped me after a few minutes of making out. She was clearly as sex-starved as I was, due to whatever daily issues or problems prevented it. Life in a post-apocalyptic world had more than its share of those. It wasn't necessarily our intention to save ourselves for each other, not knowing if we had a future, but except for that one comrade, I hadn't been with anyone else since I left for the front. I fucked Summer hard from behind on a new loveseat that she had recently bought to replace the old one. She took her turn by riding me in the cowgirl position as well. Her mouth surrounded my dick between these sessions and I almost came down her throat a couple of times. We wore ourselves out that evening and finally collapsed from exhaustion before we could think of anything else. We awoke at some goddamned early hour, well before dawn, because my full bladder wouldn't let me stay asleep. Apparently, Summer was one of those women who woke immediately when the man in her bed did. She followed me into the john and waited for me to wash my hands, at which point she grabbed me and kissed my mouth again. Her eagerness to tangle her tongue with mine was a novelty for a man whose ex-wife rationed out this softer aspect of physical affection. "Damn, Summer! Was it something I said?" I teased her, while actually quite thrilled with her passion. "No, it was EVERYTHING that you said. I'm yours now. Get used to it," Summer declared, before resuming her kisses, but this time between my thighs. I was in very serious trouble here, and I absolutely loved it. The girl was smitten, and I just could tell the fact. Then again, I thought that I might easily for her as well. I briefly escaped to the shower, only to have the luscious blonde follow me into the hot water. Her wet skin felt soft and smooth against mine. She had utterly seduced me, body, heart, mind, and soul. It was time to stop pretending to myself. We were lovers in every sense of the word. I, Ralph Henry Walker, was in love with my friend's sister Summer. We fucked a little in the shower, but then washed up without cumming and resumed our sexual congress in her bed. I took Summer in the missionary position this time, my mouth kissing hers as we quite frankly made love now. This part wasn't the rough sex of the night before, not that I minded either one. They both had their place, but this was something that hadn't really occurred during my marriage. My ex was a cold fish, an ice princess compared to Summer, who had all of the warmth that her name implied. Summer and I lost track of time, of how long it took to cum, and of how many times each of us came. It wasn't just about physical pleasure now. It was about a new couple, madly engaged in the first rush of love. We were drained and asleep by dawn, our legs entangled and our bodies almost seamless in their fusion. Awakened by the neighbor's rooster, Summer arose and I opened my eyes to see her lovely ass tantalize me as she headed to the kitchen. She appeared to have some agenda, but I couldn't discover it without rising. I just didn't know if she wanted me to do so. Curious, I stood and walked toward the bedroom door, only to hear Summer's voice chide me. "Ralph, I can't bring you breakfast in bed if you're OUT of bed, dear. I have a handsome soldier to please and I'm gonna do my damnedest to satisfy both of your appetites. Let me serve you, honey," Summer urged me, clearly wanting me to accept her winning ways. I decided quickly not to refuse her and returned to bed. The sexy blonde took a little time, of course, but it was worth the wait when she brought a huge tray with two plates full of delicious breakfast food for us to devour. Summer was definitely my kind of woman, since I hated the idea of a gal eating like a bird while I feasted to my heart's content. Maybe I was strange that way, but I wanted my ladies to still enjoy their food. I never minded a hearty appetite and a little meat on a woman's bones. The average woman didn't resemble a Calvin Klein model and "heroin chic" frankly scared me. Pot was my scene, not smack. We potheads liked our food. Speaking of that, Summer kind of startled me when she produced a couple of joints, a lighter, and a dime bag. Then again, now that it was legal, it was a lot easier and safer to find. We smoked a little weed together and dived into our delectable breakfast of pancakes, sausage links, and fried eggs over easy. The coffee went down rather well, too. It was a truly awesome morning, one of the sort that I could get used to with her. Once we had stuffed ourselves and cleared away the breakfast tray, Summer made it clear that she wasn't finished with me by pushing me back down onto the bed and straddling my face. She rubbed her delightful pussy onto my mouth and leaned over to suck my cock in a sweet 69. I damn near shot my load into her throat and held myself back solely by force of will. I wanted to save my cum for something even better. On some level, I was eager to knock her up, because I had the firm idea of pounding her only sweet pussy with my hard cock (though I would normally enjoy anal). Until that point, I concentrated on eating her out until she was ready for me to stop. After several minutes of nearly flooding Summer's mouth with my seed, she got the hint and switched places, riding me cowgirl style. She leaned over yet again, this time to taste herself on my lips. I was pretty sure that her theme for this morning was, "putting Ralph first", as she demonstrated a resolution to help me relax and have a damned good time. The cowgirl position, while normally too passive for me, had an advantage when the man was a tired field nurse on 48 hour leave from the Militia. That was even truer when said field nurse was stoned and his belly was full of nice, heavy breakfast food. The other benefit of doing it "cowgirl" became apparent when Summer came hard while riding me. She was able to make sure that I hit her G-spot and she naturally loved that. When I heard her moans and sighs as she climaxed, I finally came inside her, which had the effect of making her go down on me again. She seemed eager to ensure that I had a second wind, which made it clear that she was one horny gal at the moment. "Out to drain my balls, are you? Help yourself. I've had many worse mornings than this, but none better that I can recall," I encouraged the sultry blonde, caressing her hair as she sucked and licked my cock. "Right now, I feel like using you for sex," she teased as she impaled herself yet again on my dick. At the moment, being used for sex was hardly a problem. It had a far different meaning from a sexy woman whom I loved than from some inmate down on the cell-block at the federal penitentiary. Summer had her way with me that morning, but the only part of me that was sore afterward was my dick from such constant use. At least my ass was unmolested. When I came a second time, Summer pouted as she realized that I would need some time to give her more hard cock. However, she proved selfless enough to lie next to me while I regained circulation to the rest of my body. "Now, that's what I call fucking," I grinned, as Summer rubbed her body against mine. "Me, too. I think that I'm falling for you, Ralph. I just find myself wanting desperately to please you, as I did with Dirk. Something tells me that you won't blow your chance as he did," Summer declared her true feelings at last. "If I had a stiff drink, I'd toast right now to our fresh start. I've already fallen for you, Summer. You have what I missed in my marriage: warmth and fun," I assured her. Summer's answer to that was a searing kiss on the mouth.