Chapter 1

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, .

Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Chuck Johnson. his "Job Hunt" over, is now a Deputy U.S. Marshal. His life is pretty complete with his six foot seven, three hundred fifty pound girl friend and a good life. He keeps finding trouble though but battles back against the bad guys. See how he handles several tough jobs without a lot of bloodshed but it can't last. Chuck and friends meet a lot of people you know that live in the area. (Some chapters have more sexy scenes than would be considered "some sex.")

Bobby and I were sitting out on the back porch of the safe house we were in charge of, discussing how busy, but yet how calm we had been. Since we had gotten together as a team for the safe house, we averaged a little over one person or couple per week to watch over before they were escorted to some new far off place. We both laughed at how the television program called it "In Plain Sight."

The service did hide people in plain sight. A witness from Miami may end up as a stock clerk in a Wal-Mart in Toledo. An undercover guy from New York may end up as house painter in Springfield, Illinois. The people escaping one thing or another ended up with a safe unexciting life in a mundane community, living happily ever after.

I have to describe Bobby for those who haven't heard any tales about us yet. Bobby is a magnificent six foot seven and weighs around three fifty. There is not an ounce of fat on her gorgeous frame. She has a body that is just big, huge, luscious, tasty, and all that stuff. She's got a rack on her that defies description and gravity. Her caboose is something to marvel at. Just watching her walk away is captivating to me and draws a crowd.

Then there is me, an average guy about five eleven, but who should be six feet, that weighs around one eighty when I eat enough. I lost a leg to an RPG in Iraq, and now have a good prosthetic that I can usually walk without a cane with. I exercise constantly so I can remain in decent shape and I can tell you, Bobby puts me to shame with the weights and the machines. She is one tough cookie.

We got together while some guys that wanted to have bent noses had a scam going against the government. They faked helping returning servicemen and were making a bunch of money. Because I was the one who stumbled onto the deal, I became a target and was sent to Bobby's safe house. The whole thing got all out of shape and the marshal service mistakenly made me a deputy and paid me more money than the employment people I had just started to work for, so here I am, still a deputy, working as Safe Two under Bobby. The whole thing's a long story. You'll have to research it and read it all for yourself.

While Bobby remained the Safe One person at the house all the time, as soon as I was pulled from the federal unemployment or employment office, I was given a mixed bag of duties. The worst was air marshal. You got on a plane in the early morning at one location, flew to place B, boarded another and flew to place C, boarded another then flew to place D, and finally flew home to arrive sometime before midnight the same day. Because you were to be the vigilant duty person on a flight, you had to remain alert, watching what was happening all the time. Anyone standing around in an aisle for more than a couple of minutes was suspect. Anyone in a lavatory for too long, was suspect. Anyone approaching a hostess in the galley was really suspect.

Another great duty was to accompany a federal prisoner to another facility that better matched the crime he had committed. Usually it was by air and we were often put in first class so it was easier to confine the prisoner. When we flew coach, I always wanted either the last seat in the plane or the first seat. If the plane had three seats across the aisle, whoever was unlucky enough to be in the third seat was bumped. I had read all the directives and viewed all of the videos on prisoner transport so I followed all of the suggested means of securing the prisoner. My prisoners got to wear some neat ankle cuffs with a pretty chain between the legs. They of course also wore handcuffs secured at the waist by an additional chain.

These cuffs were cool as they allowed the prisoner hands free enough to read, eat a little clumsily, and drink from a straw, but restricted the person from giving me a fat lip or attempting to overpower me. When I flew with a prisoner, I kept him at the window on my right and wore a shoulder holster, instead of the belt holster I usually wore, as it concealed the weapon better.

I always made sure the prisoner had plenty of reading material and always advised the hostesses that the person was a prisoner and was not allowed anything other than a snack and something to drink.

Funny, on those flights, I never ate anything but I did bring along a bottle of water that was checked through for me. If the cap was broken, I tossed the water. One of the videos told of how a hostess had drugged the marshal and the marshal ended up deceased. That wasn't going to happen to me.

I was always the first on and the last off the plane. If someone was going to intercept me in the terminal, I wanted to make sure there were fewer civilians around if it did happen. Of course, if there was an air marshal on the flight, he knew where I was so I could assist him or he could help me if necessary.

The last thing that I said to a prisoner before we left his detention facility was that if we were attacked, I would shoot him first then try to capture the attackers. Several prisoners objected to my theory of self-preservation, but I told them that this was the only way I could ensure that my prisoner would not escape. One smart-ass told me, when I explained how I conducted transport, that since he was wearing body armor he didn't feel my threat was real. I had to explain to the man that I spent all my time on the range practicing head shots. He shut up.

A couple of times during these six months, I had been sent out with a team to track down an escaped prisoner. My special forces training came in handy for these missions. My fake leg made me a little slower than some, but my training gave me the edge at anticipating what a runaway would do. So far, I was four for four in captures while leading a team. The good thing was that all were captured without injuring the escapee.

My good friend and former leader, Howard, was promoted to the western region and became a real live genuine U.S. Marshal, not a deputy like the rest of us. He didn't like the politics, but he said he sure as hell liked the increase in pay.

Bobby and I were getting some sun out on the pool deck when the duty phone rang. We kept the phone with us, so Bobby reached over and answered, "Safe One."

I could only hear one side of conversation. It wasn't very informative.



"That soon?"

"We'll be ready."

"I'll have him call in as soon as we have the subjects."

When she hung up, she was getting up, so I did the same thing, sliding on my fake leg. "They are bringing a couple from Orlando and should be here in about ten minutes. Let's get dressed. The boss said they are high priority."

High priority could mean they are important, well known politicians, public figures, or it could mean that a few dozen paid assassins were looking for them.

We quickly dressed, turned on all the house security, and checked our defenses. The drive team called with the signal and the garage door was raised. Bobby and I now had an even better way to wait for a delivery.

Bobby watched the video monitors for the car coming in, while I positioned myself in the garage where I could not be seen but could observe the car bringing in the guests, as well as all the occupants. The techies in the service had come up with some neat sunglasses that could see through dark tinted windows on vehicles as if the tint was not there. So I was in my position while Bobby was at the door, watching the car pull in through the mirror by the door.

When the car stopped, the driver's window went down and a hand went to the top of the car and patted the roof, the signal that it was our guy and everything was okay. A deputy got out of the passenger door and the driver got out of the driver's door. Both of the rear doors were opened and three people got out. There was a man and a woman that looked scared shitless, and another guy that made you think he might be in the service.

I watched them go into the house, waited thirty seconds, and went to check the Suburban they had come in. I checked under the seats and down between the seats quickly before went into the kitchen door.

Bobby had two pieces of luggage open, going over it with our electronic detector. The guy I didn't recognize was giving her shit about being so over cautious. He didn't know I was in the doorway and he was between Bobby and me, while the two deputies and the couple were standing on the other side of the table, observing.

Bobby kept going over one area on the side of the suitcase until the new guy said, "Would you get over it already. Just shut the fucking thing and get us something to eat."

Bobby looked up at the guy and said, "Hold you horses, friend, something is setting off the gizmo here and I'm going to find out what it is. Bobby stood up and said she would be right back. I stepped into the hall while she walked by me, went to the kitchen, and came back with her little tool kit. She took a small pair of scissors and cut the lining of the suitcase away until she could see the entire side of the suitcase. There was something duct taped to the side. Bobby peeled off the tape and used some tweezers to hold up a small, thin, square object.

Bobby pulled her transmission decoder from her tool kit and turned it on and it began blinking crazily. She said "Ah shit."

The man standing watching all this seemed to be reaching behind his back so I put my gun to the back of his head quickly and said, "Be very still. Do not move even the hand you have behind your back."

I looked at Jack across the table and said, "Jack, you cover and David, you come take this guy apart so we can confirm who he is."

Bobby said, "I'll put this in a safe box real quick and call in."

David pulled an automatic from the guy's rear holster, and two more small automatics from each ankle. We removed his coat and pants and took them to Bobby to put in the safe box after we had emptied everything from his pockets.

As he was cuffing the man, David said to me, "I never understood why you laid back all the time until just now. This is strange."

I told David, you cover this gentleman for a minute while I get my traveling chains for him. I'd like him as immobile as possible. I got the leg irons and the waist chain that attached the cuffs that were behind his back to it. There would be no putting your hands under your feet to get your hands in front of you.

The couple who was being transported was terrified. The man asked, "Is there someone tracking us? What was that thing? Who is this man?"

I asked Jack, "Where did this guy come from?"

Jack said, "It was funny, the duty man at the court house said this guy would accompany the couple through to their permanent location. The couple is strange as well, because we didn't get a full folder, just a file folder with a stat sheet and transport order."

Bobby came in the room and said, "We need to watch how we handle the couple, but the chief doesn't know what to do about this guy. He's dispatching three teams to cover and watch the area. We are to use only the sub-tactical radios to contact the teams. No commercial stuff."

I went into the storage area and pulled a clean suitcase out for our guests. "If you need additional clothing, we have a wide assortment to choose from. It would be good to wear clothes that you normally would not wear. So please pick out some apparel and use this suitcase. We want to keep this one for a while."

David had the strange agent or marshal out in the living room sitting on a couch. Jack said he had attempted to ask him for his supervisor's name or contact location, but the guy had clammed up. David had called his Orlando office and had a team on the way to the courthouse to pick up the guy who had handed off the couple with our funny prisoner.

Our new station chief, Forest Harding, called from his vehicle and said he was almost at our location. He said he was alone and would park in the driveway. We watched as an agency car pulled to the left side of the driveway. That was the correct side for them to park when using the driveway. Forest got out of the car, shut the door, and walked to the front door. Nothing unusual at all.

Bobby let him in and then he debriefed each of us as to everything up to this point. He used his cell phone and called Orlando only to find out the guard at the courthouse may not have been a real guard and was long gone. He called in to the DC operations center and briefed the duty people, asking if there was any intelligence about the guests.

Forest tried to interrogate our stranger and got as far as we did. I asked Forest if I could just kill him and put him in a bag since he was taking up space and he had to detail someone to watch him 24/7. Forest put on a good show thinking about it for a while. He said, "Too many people know we have him under watch. Perhaps you can take off some of the extra chains and maybe he'll make a break for it. That would work.

The guy had some guts because he never made a peep throughout all of our conversations.

Our guests were due to be picked up by two of our people and flown in a private plane to somewhere in Missouri and taken from there by commercial air to their final destination. Forest called S&S Air Charter, the private service, to confirm the reservations. The flight was due to leave at seven this evening. Apparently the owner and his wife were the pilots tonight, as they said they needed the flight time. We used the charter company all the time as they were dependable and had various types of planes, perfect for different types of cover.

Forest asked, "Have you guys run the gizmo over this clown yet? Let's check him to make sure he doesn't have an implant. Dave, lay him down on his stomach and put your foot in his back to keep him still. Bobby, run the gizmo over him very slowly. If he swallowed something we might pick it up either from the back or the front."

Bobby did every inch of his body from the back before we turned him over and did his front. Around his abdomen we picked up a trace signal similar to the trace signal from the other device in the safe box.

Forest said, "Okay, get him some clothes. I'm taking him to one of our teams near here. They'll take him in for an MRI and find out what's on him. How about we transport the couple to the airbase tonight and cancel the flights. We'll set something else up, but right now I want these guys out of here. Bobby, you know the procedure. Full alert until we say clear or move."

We only put a robe on the guy and put the safe box in the car with Forest. David and Jack got the couple ready to move, but we were going to use our Suburban instead of theirs. We trusted ours better. David and Jack were to follow us in their car. Bobby called one of the teams and told them that we were leaving and they were to occupy the house until we returned.

I made sure the couple was comfortable in the back seat while I arranged my firepower in the middle seat in order to be able to access the sunroof if necessary.

Bobby backed out of the garage into the street and waited until the other car was behind us, then we headed toward McDill Air Force Base. We had a standing order for a small group of rooms attached to one of the most secure areas in the United States, the Centcom barracks. The gate guards were cordial as we showed them our ID, along with our transport order. We drove up to the barracks and escorted the couple into their overnight quarters. I asked the sergeant on duty if we could get some food brought for the two agents and our guests since we had missed lunch and supper in the excitement. Soon the four were eating, enjoying their food.

Bobby and I said that we would see them again sometime and wished the couple a safe trip to where ever they were going. Instead of driving home, we stopped at the office to see what they had discovered about our prisoner and the device that had been in the luggage.

The MRI showed an object in the large intestine so our illustrious lab techs gave the subject a heavy duty laxative and had him swallow a few fiber pills. The combination of that and some prune juice with Seven-up would make anyone shit.

While we were waiting for the fake agent to give us a new toy, the techs dissected the small thin device. They identified it as a satellite phone tracking device. Each pass of certain satellites would identify where the signal was originating from in order to keep track of moving objects or people. They put the tracking device on the roof of the Suburban in order to time how frequently the device was polled. The device was only polled once every fifty-two minutes. It was possible that we were able to dodge being pinpointed by satellite.

One of our techies had a great idea. He said that the satellite would look for the two signatures, the luggage device and the one that was swallowed, to be in the same place to confirm that everything was as planned. Once we had both devices and had gleaned all the information from them we could, he wanted to send them up in a drone to fly to somewhere in Wyoming and see what would happen.

About ten thirty, the prisoner finally evacuated enough shit to fill a cesspool. Soon the techies were analyzing it getting all the information they could from it. The deputy marshal techs took the two devices out to McDill to put them on a drone for a long flight. The drone had a transponder similar to private jets, and would appear to be normal if it were tracked by another plane.

Bobby and I were just getting into the house when my cell phone rang. It was Forest calling to tell us that the drone was blown out of the sky by an air to air missile fired from a aircraft with no signature that was probably another drone. Forest said, this was even better because now whoever was trying to get rid of the couple would feel as if they were gone. The guy that was the problem was the prisoner. So far they couldn't trace him except that he had a scar from an appendectomy that resembled the work of Russian or East German surgeons.

I'm sure the man became lost within the federal penitentiary system, never to be heard from again. Usually foreigners from the European blocks were not welcomed and if they didn't talk at all, they were even less welcome, especially in prisons housing South American drug traffickers. They often had serious terminal accidents in padded cells.

Bobby and I stayed on alert for a week to make sure that our location wasn't compromised and were relieved to enjoy life once again. Of course, that meant we were open for business again too.

Our office was selected to pull a series of overseas air marshal rides for an entire month. Forest was good about dividing up the nasty duty, so everyone took a turn. As luck would have it, I was drawn out of the hat first. My flight would be to Belgium, on to Israel, and return. I was not to go through customs in Israel but stay with the plane and crew so I would not have my passport stamped.

The trip was long and boring. In Belgium, we loaded a plane full of guys that looked like trouble, but they settled down in their seats and stayed in them for the entire trip. In Israel, we again loaded up a bunch of guys with turbans and robes that scared the shit of out of a guy who lost a leg over in that part of the world. Again, no problem.

We had a full night's layover in Belgium and were billeted in the airport hotel. The accommodations were nice and the restaurant was decent. My habit was to never drink anything but bottled water while on duty. I would have coffee on the plane if they made it with bottled water, but I would not drink anything with native water. Not because I didn't trust it, but just to be sure I wouldn't get the runs.

The 747 flight from Belgium to Orlando was full. It seemed that we had an inordinate amount of Arabic men. It was possible that they were all part of a company on their way to the States for a convention or for a meeting.

I went to the back of the plane and used my cell phone to call the local air marshal office to see if there was any Intel on the passengers. The deputy that answered asked if I were talking about flight 1723. When I said yes, he said, "You are being accompanied by three other air marshals. Please remain in your assigned rear seat. Your contacts will all be wearing dark shirts with light colored ties. He gave me their seat numbers and told me that there were three suspected terrorists on the flight, but they had been thoroughly checked during their security searches."

Wonder why that didn't make me feel better. I checked the seats of my companions, and watched as all three put items in the overhead then sat in their seats. The other marshals were in front, in back and on the side of the group. We should be fine. Before the flight left, one of the marshals walked to the back of the plane and motioned with his eyes for me to come to the back restroom area.

When I followed the man, he stopped where we couldn't be seen and handed me a small television receiver. He said, "This is a receiver for some video cameras above the group we are interested in. You watch screen four. The rest of us will watch screens one through three. Watch closely, and if anything at all suspicious happens and you feel there is a danger, act on it. Don't hesitate, just act."

He then told me something I didn't know. Two of the flight attendants are our people, one in this cabin and one in first class. Both are experienced agents and can handle just about anything, trust them. The flight attendant that's back here will identify herself to you as soon as we are airborne. Good luck and nice to work with you. I've heard a lot about your wild west days in Tampa."

I guess you never live some things down.

There was a French guy in the right seat with no one in our middle seat. I watched the guy to check him out. When he had moved in to get into his seat, I had felt him up better than a queer in a gay bar. He was clean but a little nervous that I had been as thorough as I was.

Turning the TV on showed me a group of people and in the upper right of the screen was the number one. I pushed the pound button and the screen changed to two. Two more pushes and I was viewing screen four. The group of about six men was pretty clear. I could see their hands and the papers in their hands. There were no pens or other hard objects, so I relaxed.

As soon as the plane was ready to take off, a flight attendant came down the aisle, checking seatbelts. When she got to me, she leaned down and said, "How're ya doin' Wild Bill?"

I blushed, she smiled, and had relayed that she was our agent.

We were four hours into the flight when there seemed to be a lot of moving around among the robed gentlemen we were watching. I noted that the flight attendant that was our agent was constantly nearby.

My TV screen showed two of the guys messing with something down low between them. I watched and could see plainly that one was screwing something. Not a normal thing to do on an airplane.

I got up and walked up to the seats in question and leaned over showing my badge. I said, "Give me what ever it is that you are messing with down there."

The two were surprised that I was right there and were panicking. It's always more dangerous when a suspect panics. As they were hesitating, the passenger that was on the outside made a gesture that he was reaching for my service weapon.

Before his hand reached my lapel, two Glocks were pointing at his head, mine and another marshal's. Again, I asked that they give me whatever they were messing with. They became loud and abusive, saying we didn't have any right to question them.

I turned to the flight attendant agent and said, "Advisory 22B, quick." She moved back and opened a panel and brought several pair of handcuffs. I pulled the first man that had tried for my weapon up and pulled his hands behind his back. The flight attendant cuffed him, led him down the aisle, and had him lay on his stomach. I pulled the second guy from his seat, stood him up, and he was cuffed and sent down the aisle. The guy by the window was being belligerent to the point that I was almost going to use the sap being offered to me. When his hand went down to whatever they were messing with, I hit him as hard as I could with my gun hand. It didn't knock him out, but it rattled him enough that I was able to pull him to his feet, spin him around, and get him cuffed.

I noticed that only two other air marshals and the one flight attendant showed their positions. Good thinking, in case there were more pranksters. I reached down to the floor and came up with an almost fully assembled fiberglass automatic with a silencer. There was already a loaded magazine in it, and when I checked the chamber, I found that a round was in it as well.

The one agent that was in the front said that I should check the three men two seats in front of the others. I politely asked them to rise so we could check for contraband. As soon as they became vocal, I picked the one up with one hand, while putting my Glock under his chin. I said calmly, turn around and be quiet. When I had all three out of their seats, handcuffed, and searched, we had another almost completed automatic, plus the parts for a third.

I asked the flight attendant to show me the public address handset and made an announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this airplane is now under the control of the U.S. Marshal's service. Please co-operate with the marshals on board so we may be sure all imminent danger has been eliminated. Thank you."

Almost all of the passengers in the airplane began applauding. It was enough to make all of us feel really good. It took us an hour to almost strip search the rest of the Arabs in the group. Most all of the rest of them were very co-operative and docile. Only a couple of the younger ones were testy. We did discover another partially assembled weapon, but that was all.

By the time we had the handcuffed suspects back in their seats with cuffs locking their arms together and their ankles together, it was nearing time to land. The flight had become quiet again with passengers doing what passengers normally do. Watch a movie, doze off, play cards, just the usual. I swapped seats with a willing passenger so I could keep an eye on our Arab friends.

The hostess said that she had the pilot radio ahead to have Homeland Security people on hand and to have the political people available.

We landed in Orlando and watched all the other passengers depart. Almost every one of them that passed us said, "thank you" to us. Once everyone else, except the crew, the marshals, and the Arabs were off the plane, no one took charge, so I said, "We are going to take you off the plane slowly, two at a time. First, I want the gentlemen not handcuffed and apparently not part of the weapons plan to depart first. Please, stand, remove any bags from the overhead and leave the plane. Something was fishy, every one of them had put stuff in the overhead but not one pulled anything out. I used my cell and called the station guy outside. "Hold all of the Arabs. They didn't want to take their bags with them. Let's wait to see what's in them."

Now we had to undo some of the handcuffs. We removed the ones that held neighboring arms together then released the ones that were locked on the ankles. Now I said, "We're going to have just one of you at a time leave the plane. Be very careful, do not make any funny moves. We don't have to worry about a stray round letting the pressure out of the airplane now. You are considered the enemy and will be shot if you act incorrectly."

At least, I hoped the guys outside would do that, instead of thinking about it while their throat was being cut.

As the last handcuffed Arab left the plane, the other marshals and the flight attendants and crew applauded with the one flight attendant yelling, "Wild Bill rides again." How embarrassing, at least I didn't fire a shot.

The Orlando station chief waited while we hauled the overhead bags out to the lobby. Every bag had some form of unassembled weapon. We were able to put a bag with each of the Arab passengers and cuffed them too. My job was done except I had to write up a report. In reality, I should just have had to write a report on all twenty-two Arabs, but the station chief said to just write a report as to how I discovered the weapons and the measures we took while in the air.

The flight attendants took us back to an office area where we were able to use MS Word to write up the descriptions of our actions. Once done, one of the marshals said, "I'm buyin' anything you can drink, I'm good for it."

We didn't hold him to buying all night, but we did have several drinks. I wanted to get home and didn't want to have to wait till morning. I called Bobby and she said to wait a minute while she made a call. She came back on the phone and said for me to go over to the small aircraft terminal. A Cessna 172 doing some instrument flying would pick me up and bring me home. She said they should be on the ground in a half hour.

I talked a ground guy into running me over to the private aircraft terminal. Once there, I had a sandwich as I had totally missed the food on the flight. We flew to Tampa airport where the student did a couple of touch and goes then flew to somewhere around Lutz and landed at a private field. We taxied over to some big hangars with S&S all over them. The instructor pilot was a girl. She would be easy to recognize as she had a star tattooed near her right eye. I thanked them for the ride. The girl said that several of the deputies were taking flying lessons. She said I should look into it.

That's all I needed, a hobby that had me up in the air all the time.

Bobby was waiting for me at the operations building across the runway. She welcomed me in a very nice way and we left for home right away. On the way, she said, "How about changing clothes and giving me a ride on the bike. My sis said if we were out, to come by the bar for a free one."

When we got home, I called in to make sure my duty requirement was complete, changed clothes, and away we went, on two wheels, and with some noise to make us feel good. We took the long way to get to Jonah's bar where we walked in and were greeted by several of the other bikers there. The guys all knew Bobby and knew she was mine, just like they knew Bobby's sister, Millie, was Jonah's.

Jonah and Millie were sitting at the bar, which meant that Jonah was squashed by Bobby's hug and I was pulverized by Millie's. You see, Millie was almost as tall as Bobby, but probably weighed closer to four hundred pounds, really big. Their Mom and Dad used to work for a circus where their Mom was billed as the world's strongest woman. Mom is about six-seven the same as Bobby and still built nice. Bobby's dad is a little guy that became her workmate in the circus, then her mate in reality. They had an older daughter and two more daughters younger than Bobby and a pair of brothers, one that's huge and one who is tiny like his dad. The brothers were married to a set of very big healthy twins. The twins were not tall, just big babes.

The sisters gabbed, while Jonah and I shot some pool. We ended up playing as partners against all comers, pretty much winning more beer than we could drink. Eventually, my love said, "Let's go by Steak 'n Shake for a late snack and a malt." We were off quickly, enjoying the wind in our faces and had a great snack before going home to bed.

Primary editing by Pepere
{ci}Proofing by Sagacious

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