Apocalypse Blues
Copyright© 2017 by Mark Gander
Chapter 182
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 182 - Adam Clarke is just a regular Navy veteran going to West Virginia University on the GI Bill, right? Think again, as he discovers, after Doomsday, with the help of a growing harem, a radical classmate, and her lesbian lover, his history professor.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Gay Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Celebrity Futanari Military School War Science Fiction Post Apocalypse Paranormal Demons Sharing Slut Wife Incest BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Oral Sex Pregnancy Squirting Voyeurism Clergy Public Sex Teacher/Student Nudism Politics Revenge Violence
1905 hours, local time
Saturday, 4 October, 2014
Yazzie Gas and Treats
The Navajo Nation
The young lady who smiled at me in the convenience store definitely kept up her dental hygiene, no doubt, as shown by the condition of her teeth and gums. Her breath was certainly nice enough. She also had full and sensual lips, shiny, wavy, jet black hair, a copper complexion that was earthy in all the right ways, no sign of cosmetics, and a rather ample bust that heaved as she listened to her CB set for whatever news or gossip the truckers and others shared.
“Sorry to trouble you, miss. I just need to pay for my gas and these other items. How are you doing today?” I tried to engage her with an awkwardness out of character for me of late.
“Well, let me see. A naked white man and a bunch of other nudists are in my store, very extraordinary, if you ask me. It’s a lot better than the news that is my only other relief from sheer, fucking boredom!” the girl winked at me now, “I’m Jenny Yazzie. Mom and Uncle Peter own this place. Before you ask, Dad is a trucker and they were together for years, but he never came back after the Fireball struck Salt Lake City. He’s probably dead. Died with a bunch of stupid Mormons.”
“Well, the difference between a Mormon and a moron is literally just the letter M,” I joked, feeling my usual confidence now that Jenny took me into hers.
Jenny snickered as she heard that and snorted a little of her soft drink, a ginger ale, as it turned out. I thought that would be a shame, to waste one of my favorite sodas like that, but it was my fault, not hers. She looked embarrassed as I paid her and she caressed my hand a little longer than I anticipated. Her soft, smooth skin felt sensual to the touch. She seemed playful and clearly had a delightful sense of humor.
“Are you him ... you know ... the Prophet?” Jenny whispered, not wishing to let go of my hand.
“He is,” Charity intimated to her, “and he’s fantastic in bed.”
In spite of my enlightened ways, I still blushed a little at my gorgeous wife bragging about my sexual prowess. The gleam on Jenny’s face as she looked around for signs of her elder kith and kin was pure desire, She licked her lips, pulled her closer while leaning just enough to plant her kiss on me, with a substantial amount of tongue. She handed me my change and I coughed when she stepped out from behind the counter, lifting her short denim skirt to show me her panties as she slid them down.
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