Apocalypse Blues
Copyright© 2017 by Mark Gander
Chapter 8
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 8 - 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
“Is it just me, or are the locals avoiding us?” I asked aloud as we walked around the town of Hancock, clothed, of course, as we were in no mood to deal with possibly irate locals.
We got lucky at Hazelton, West Virginia, and we didn’t want to press our luck. I laughed to myself as I recalled that this was the second consecutive town in such a short space of time with a name that started with “Ha.” Besides, the sheer number of mosquito bites that some of us got after we tarried naked in Hazelton ... it wasn’t pretty. Despite our nudist leanings, we would have to cool it on that business, at least for now.
We walked along the mostly deserted streets until we saw them. There were about eighteen of them, to be precise. They all had guns ... and clubs. They all also had white hoods and robes. It wasn’t rocket science why everyone was indoors for the moment, if they could manage it. For some odd reason, the Klan had crawled out of the woodwork, and they were some nasty Klucker bastards from the look of them.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck ... that’s the KKK, isn’t it?” Becca got visibly nervous, not without cause, though she also looked a bit pissed ... again, justifiably so.
“Afraid so. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m in no mood to back down, are you? Not from those hooded asshats! My great-grandfather made the mistake of visiting a town in North Carolina once, way back in the day. Kluckers ran him out of town to buckshot just before dawn in nothing but his long johns. Just for being a Jew,” Leah cussed.
“I can believe it. My great-uncle Boyd was lynched by the Klan, supposedly for raping a white woman,” Becca gritted her teeth now at the prospect of dealing with those hooded twats.
“Alright, folks, let’s take out some racist trash!” I said, just before someone took a shot at me.
“Okay, let’s do this smart. Find some good hiding spots, snipe at them if you can, don’t meet them out in the open, okay? I don’t plan to get any of us killed if we can help it, after all,” I said as I found a spot behind a tree and took aim with the late Wilbur’s German Mauser rifle (how the fuck did he get one of those, anyway?).
The Klansmen weren’t blind or stupid. They saw us seeking shelter and they didn’t hesitate to try to sniff us out, especially with the hounds that several of them dragged along into this madness. It was a very tense few minutes, as the Kluckers tried to lure us into the open or force us out. Then we heard a shot, and worse still, saw a Klansman seize Pamela by her hair and pull her out of a bush. She was wounded and yet she struggled, not being one to give up that easily.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.