The White
Copyright© 2012 by ahorsewithnoname
Chapter 7
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7 - In a world where 90% of the male population died due to a plague, it is the females that suffer a worse fate. The plague altered their DNA to the point that they could not survive for long without what became known as "the White"... semen. If that wasn't bad enough, the best quality, the most nourishing, came from those closest genetically, i.e. FAMILY. You can read a bunch of reader's comments over at Bookapy.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/ft Blackmail Coercion Consensual Rape Reluctant Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Workplace Post Apocalypse Sharing Incest Mother Father Daughter Group Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism
With nothing to balance herself with, and trying to escape the ass agony she was experiencing, Sarah didn’t resist moving forward, causing her mouth to sink deeper onto Bad Haircut’s cock until she felt it start pushing into her throat, gagging her.
It was this classic position, the spit roast, that Secret Service agents came upon. They saw the President’s daughter getting raped by two bums and shouted out “Freeze! Secret Service!”
Pock Mark and Bad Haircut, both sex-deprived for many years, had no intentions of letting anyone interfere with their sex fest with this hot slut. They quickly withdrew from the girl and went for guns that were within short reach of the mattress.
Both were shot dead immediately by the sharpshooters.
“Noooooooooooooooooo!!!” shouted Sarah, seeing the two White donors dead around her. She immediately dove on one cock, trying to see if she could coax the White out from the still-hard appendage before it was too late for him, and her.
As one Secret Service agent alerted his superior that the First Daughter was now safe, two others went and got her, pulling her off the corpse while she called them every curse word she could think of, while another gathered up her clothes.
I found my wife in our private study. She wasn’t reading briefs, or talking to constituents or party members. She wasn’t making notes for memoirs, or even using her iPad to keep up on the news.
She was curled up on the sofa in the fetal position, eyes scrunched closed, crumpled tissue in hand. Broke my heart.
I sat down next to her and at the weight shift in the cushion her eyes opened in alarm and she started to bolt upwards.
“It’s okay, babe ... Sarah’s safe, they found her. The White, it struck early with her this time but she’s safe.” Tears sprung to her eyes as a smile broke across her face, like the dawn of a new day. We hugged, silently.
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