Fallen Angels
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2017 by harry lime

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Strange story

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult   High Fantasy  

The enforcer angel sent to discipline the fallen angel known as Mike the Cop in his earthly form was a “happy-go-lucky” former “Guardian” angel called Gaspar by most of his acquaintances despite the fact his official name was Claude.

The truth of the matter was that Gaspar hated the name Claude because it was used to mock him terribly in the training clouds for angelic duty. He resented the fact that several of the other Guardian angel horde suggested that Claude was more a female than a male moniker and he referred his detractors to the list of name assignments where it specifically stated that Claude was generally assigned to males and was well-respected as a genteel and well-behaved name for angels in good standing. All of that was of no avail because the embedded clique that pestered him relentlessly in his everyday duties made him request a transfer to the enforcement and retribution department for smiting down the enemies of the Lord wherever they might be lurking on the edge of heavenly bliss.

It can be said that angels on Earth were not angels at all. They pretty much looked like humans, they acted like humans and they screwed like there was no tomorrow. It was probably due to the underlying problem of spending eternity without pussy. Getting pussy was the human name of the game and everything else sort of took second fiddle when a dose of good old pussy was knocking on the door.

Since “Gaspar” or “Claude” was out of the question as a name for an enforcer angel with heavenly duties, the retribution angel was called Anthony the Avenger and he was reputed to be as vicious as they come when it came time to put the hurt on the fallen angels hiding in the crowd. It was merely a public relations thing to boost the fear in the fallen angel crowd, but it seemed to work because most of them were looking over their shoulders twenty-four/seven waiting for the axe to fall and chop off their pretty heads.

Anthony A. materialized inside a taxi on the corner outside Studio 69 and the cab driver had to look in the dirty rear view mirror several times to make sure it was a customer and not some figment of his imagination. He had been seeing naked women back there ever since his Hortense had passed away by eating too many hot dogs on the Fourth of July. In the sex department, the loss of Hortense was not a big impact. The fact of the matter was that she hadn’t given poor Homer any pussy since she lost all that weight on the starvation diet fad she accidently used last summer. She constantly thanked her sister-in-law Josie for pushing her into doing that instead of picking up sailors at the bus station and giving them blow jobs as a way of getting acquainted and meeting people.

Now that she was slim and trim, she certainly didn’t want to be getting humped by a loser like Homer the cab driver and the young guys all wanted her petite pussy bent over and with panties down and with as little conversation as possible.

Homer saw what looked like a naked cheerleader with feathers in her hair and the look of needing to get laid all over her pretty face.

Anthony A failed to appreciate the glitches in the transmission wormholes that often changed the gender of the traveling angels like some great cosmic joke that had ceased to be funny. He looked down at his interesting pussy hairs and his upturned nipples and knew he wouldn’t be getting that satisfied feeling of stuffing a cunt anytime soon. In fact, if he/she didn’t her his/her ass in gear, it looked like the cab driver was getting ready to get some right there in the back seat of the cab.

“Lady, I can’t be transporting any naked females anywhere inside the city limits. The regulations all state that your private parts and such have to be clothed for me to drive you anywhere in the city proper. I can’t even drive you to the city limits and let you go about your nude business elsewhere.”

Anthony the Avenger considered melting down Homer and leaving in a puddle on the front seat but his sense of wanting to have a success on his first assignment was paramount and he merely smiled at the driver and said,

“If you let me borrow your jacket, I can get some clothes at the first hotel you pass and in return, you can hump me from behind as long as you don’t talk to me when you are inside. I hate talking when I am getting fucked especially by a cab driver.”

It was the best offer Homer had gotten in a month of Sundays and he flipped up the “no fare” signal and speeded off to the Best Western down on the boulevard. The hot little number scampered off in the side door wearing his jacked that came almost down to her knees and returned moments later with an ensemble of mix and match that had obvious been garnered from the duds set out in the hallways for cleaning and pressing.

Once back in the cab, the enforcer angel smoothed down the schoolgirl uniform skirt and hoped the absence of undies would not be suspected to a casual observer. Of course, Homer was all over that and he was sporting a huge erection that looked like a tree uprooted from the ground and planted between his legs.

When Homer turned his pleading eyes to Anthony in his new role as a hot schoolgirl chick waiting to get screwed, the avenging angel sighed in compliant surrender and got down in an “all fours” position for the cab driver’s promised humping session. In actuality, the thing went a lot better than Anthony had anticipated and the poor driver’s long sex-deprived status made him a power-house of repressed sexual energy.

 
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