Revenge of the Pothead
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2005 by Col. Jack Harrison

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A man who spent 5 years in prison for smoking pot is released by the new regime. He must now deal with his restored freedom and decide what to do with his life. The first chapter has no sex, but following chapters will.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Military   War   Science Fiction   Post Apocalypse   Sharing   Incest   Brother   Sister   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Rough   Spanking   Group Sex   Harem   Orgy   Polygamy/Polyamory   Swinging   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   White Female   Indian Male   Anal Sex   Analingus   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   Oral Sex   Pregnancy   Squirting   Voyeurism   Doctor/Nurse   Nudism   Revenge   Slow   Violence  

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.

 
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