Part 1 - Hunter’s Hurricane

Preface

For some time now I have been disappointed in the state of written porn. Most of the time fucking just starts, with no character development. It’s hard to get excited when you barely have any feeling for the characters, what they look like, what their motivations are, etc. Fine for a quickie, but not something you want to read again. When there is a plot, it’s contrived and transparent, leaving the reader bored and just waiting for the next scene.

Likewise, action-adventure stories are quite popular, but leave us hanging far too many times. Just as the hero is about to bang some hot babe he’s just rescued, the reader is tantalized by a dress dropping to the floor, a hint of a bare back, then ... nothing. A scene change, a new chapter, leaving us hot, aroused, and very unsatisfied.

I hope to change that with this story, what will hopefully be the first in a series of what I term action erotica. Hot, sexually explicit sexual encounters combined with pulse pounding adventure, sure to excite the reader on all levels.

During the writing of this story I took every effort to make the details as accurate as possible, through a combination research and personal experience. To add to the realism, specific products are mentioned in the story. I want to be clear no compensation was given for this, nor should any endorsement be implied, they are simply details to make the tale as realistic as possible. Additionally, any resemblance between real persons or events is entirely coincidental.

I hope you enjoy this story, if you do I ask you leave feedback on the site where you found it. It will encourage me to write more, and help me to understand what best meets the needs of the audience.

Chapter 1

Before my present job, I was a Navy SEAL. With a name like Hunter, I guess it was a foregone conclusion I’d do something like it. Best fuckin’ job in the world, and I say that despite getting dinged up, shot, and even hit by a grenade during my years of service.

I was on duty in Afghanistan when some raghead asshole tossed a grenade in our direction. My buds waxed his sorry ass, but the grenade went off near me. I wasn’t hurt all that bad, except for one piece that got me in the left ear. Damaged my hearing just enough to disqualify me for SEAL service. I argued, told them I could still hear just fine out the other ear, but the board said sorry and offered me a desk job.

Desk job? Fuck you, which is what I told the Navy. I’m an adrenalin junkie. I didn’t join the service to sit behind a fuckin’ desk. So I took a medical discharge and got a job as a TV camera man. That way I could still get into exciting situations.

Boy did I. Friends, let me tell you about what happened a few years ago. I was assigned to a female reporter to cover hurricane Katrina as it made landfall in New Orleans. Because I work for a cheap ass company, the crew consisted of me, and Randy the reporterette in question. She was kinda bitchy, but looked damn good on camera. Blond hair, nice enough face, huge DD cup tits (which were amazingly enough natural I later found out). Nice curves and sweet ass that said “fuck me”.

I, well I did everything else, sound, lights, camera. Fortunately most of it was pretty automated, set it and forget, and all I had to do was point the camera at Randy and make sure her highness was kept in frame.

Randy was a cute kid, but had the one flaw of not listening to others. Very headstrong, she wanted to take risks. Hoping to break into network news I guess. So while most others were getting the hell out before the storm hit, Randy decides we can get some dramatic footage standing on a roof off Bourbon Street while the hurricane comes aground. We did too, and I must admit it was a real rush being out there. Nothing like a hurricane to give you a hard on.

It was in the aftermath we got into deep shit. Randy decided she wanted to get some footage around town. We didn’t know it, but the waters were beginning to rise as the levees broke, plus the looters had already started. It was against my better judgement, but effectively she was the boss so we loaded the SUV and headed out.

We took a few shots around town, and got uncomfortably close to some looters. These assholes had been ransacking a bar, and were both drunk and armed, firing into signs and buildings. Defiantly not a safe place. I shoved Randy’s sweet ass into the Durango and peeled out. Apparently the thugs decided this made for great target practice as our rear window exploded, along with the rear view mirror on Randy’s side. I would have been amused over Randy’s screams, only I was too busy trying to find dry ground to drive on. Wasn’t until later I noticed she’d wet her pants.

I made it a few blocks away, but quickly realized we were not going to be driving out of there. Water blocked our way, rising rapidly in the streets. “Shit.” was my only comment as I skidded to a halt in front of an older hotel, one that was five stories tall. Tall enough, I hoped.

I bailed out slinging my camera over my arm, and grabbing my emergency backpack from the rear. One thing I’d learned was to keep a pack with emergency supplies handy at all times. I gave it a quick check.

9 MM Glock, 3 high capacity magazines (two with hollow points, one with the ultra penetrating Talon rounds), spare ammo, two concussion grenades, K-Bar knife, rope, radio, flashlight, oh and some spare water and MREs (Meals Ready to Eat, better known as Meals Rejected by the Enemy).

Yeah, I know, illegal as hell, but my old Seal buds still slipped me a few toys every so often, and in some of the situations I find myself I hate not to have a few basic necessities along. Like the slogan says, never leave home without it! I grabbed Randy and raced for the front door as a wave of nasty water surged around the corner.

Ever notice when some people get scared they get diarrhea of the mouth? She was yammering nonstop. “What the fuck are you doing? Where the fuck are we? Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Hey, she knows my favorite word. I decided to use it myself.

“Randy.” I told her in my stern ‘I am taking no shit’ voice I used to use on the plebes. “I’m fucking trying to save your sorry fucking ass so shut the fuck up and stay the fuck outta my way before you fucking drown.” That got her attention.

The door was locked, fortunately I had a key. They had conveniently placed a trashcan on the curb, which sailed nicely through the plate glass of the front doors. I charged in, Randy close on my heels. Hey, she learns quick!

Running behind the abandoned front desk, I began rummaging through the drawers. “Hurry.” Randy said. Glancing up I could see brown water covering the street. Damn, it was coming faster than a 17 year old virgin on prom night. My luck held out for once though, in the next drawer I found a key ring loaded with keys. I grabbed them and took off for the stairs.

Incredibly Randy stopped by the elevator and began pushing the button. “Fuck fuck fuck.” she was blathering frantically as water began to gush in the lobby. Shaking my head I didn’t take time to argue. I just scooped her up in a fireman’s carry, tossing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was then, by the way, I’d noticed she’d wet her pants. Joy.

Despite being out of the Navy I still kept to the daily exercise regimen. Habits are hard to break I guess. I am buff. I can bench press 450 pounds with no problems. Repeatedly. I say this not to brag, but just to show I was easily able to charge up the stairs, despite the fact Randy was squirming like a kid in need of a piss.

When I got to the second floor I dumped her on the ground, she landed with a thud right on her plush backside. I said nothing but kept moving, with little choice she followed all the way to the top floor. I dumped my survival bag in the hallway, then used the keys to let myself onto the roof. My camera man instincts were coming out. Despite getting soaked from the rain, I did get some dramatic footage as the Durango began floating, then tumbled a few times before getting swept out of site by the rushing water.

I heard a quiet female voice softly say “Fuck” from beside me. I looked over to see Randy, watching our SUV float away. The rain had soaked her through and through, and I could see her nipples straining at her thin shirt. It was then I began to think of her in a more ... personal way. Hmm, I knew she liked to say it, I just hoped she liked to do it!

Business first though, so I took Randy by the hand and led her off the roof and back to the top floor of the hotel. I’d lucked out on the keys, they were a master set that seemed to be able to open anything. 9 mil in hand, I did a quick recon. The floor was deserted, and there were enough sodas and snacks in the (easy to break into) vending machines to keep us going for several days. There was also a storeroom on the floor used to restock the minibars, filled with snacks, bottled water and booze. Enough to keep us going for a month if need be.

I opened one of the suites and shoved Randy inside. Grabbing a spare sheet from the closet, I shoved it into her hands. “You better get out of those clothes.” I told her. “You’re soaked, if you stay in that outfit you’ll catch a chill. Wrap up in that sheet if you want. I’m gonna check out the rest of the building.” She only nodded, I guess she was a bit overwhelmed.

Kids, here’s an important lesson from Uncle Hunter: Never Assume. I figured the building was empty, but since I didn’t want Mr. Murphy showing up I did a through search of the remaining floors. I had to stop at the second though, as water was half way up the stairs between the first and second floors.

I returned to the suite to find Randy staring out the window. Through the bathroom door I saw her clothes hanging on the shower rod. All of them, including her thong undies and sexy bra. She was now clad in a bedsheet, tied toga style around one shoulder. It clung to her damp body, revealing her curves in a new light.

Being a former SEAL, getting wet and uncomfortable was nothing unusual for me. Just part of the job, but I figured I was no longer in the Navy so what the hell. I stepped into the bathroom and pulled off my soggy clothes, wrapping a towel around my waist.

The sun was setting, not that we could see it for all the clouds. All we could tell was it was getting dark. I stood beside Randy, and she melted into my arms. “I’m scared. Hold me.” she said.

I tried to be a good boy, really I did. But her soft skin, warm female aroma, and being close to me, well I began to get aroused. And when I get aroused, there is just no hiding it.

Boys and girls, you’re gonna think I’m bragging again, but I swear I’m not. It’s just that, well, I have a big cock. I mean a BIG COCK. My man meat is 11 and a half inches long, and that’s measured on the top. Thick too, as thick as a beer bottle and then some.

For a while I thought about getting into porn flicks. But that’s when the USS Cole got bombed, and I got all pissed off at the assholes who would do something like that, and decided someone needed to go kill some terrorists and I was just the asshole to go do it. So I joined the Navy, became a SEAL, and the porn industry lost it’s next star. OK, OK, I can hear your bitching, gentle reader, so enough of the flashback and back to the action.