Chapter 83

12 hours later...
2300 hours, local time,
Saturday, 12 July, 2014,
Peterstown, West Virginia

The place that we chose to stop for the night was pretty quiet and out of the way, opting not to disturb the locals too much as we didn’t know much about them. We noticed a few people here or there, mostly senior citizens who gawked a little before going on about their own business. We didn’t undress in public or anything, so it wasn’t like there was anything radically different about us, other than our numbers and racial diversity. If they stuck around for when Sonali and Trish reappeared, though, they would have been astonished, if not frightened at the sight of two very naked angels with spread wings and everything.

They wouldn’t have bothered us, though. I was pretty sure that they would have been too much in awe and terror of our guardian angels to meddle with us. If they saw that, of course. I felt it more likely that most of them would leave us alone for now. I was right for now, at least. We all settled in for the night, being pretty tired by now for the most part. Only one or two of us, who had taken naps during the trip, were up and about, mostly amusing themselves with a book or a quickie or snack or something. We had all eaten pretty heartily earlier, except for anyone who had been asleep at that time.

I awoke several hours later, on the bright Sunday morning of 13 July, 2014, to being ridden by someone rather unfamiliar in my own bed on the bus. I looked at my watch. It said 7:30 am. I looked up at the person in question and she was a tall, lanky teenage girl with dirty blonde hair, freckles, and hazel eyes. She had small, but firm breasts, of course, and she knew how to work those hips overtime like it was nobody’s business. I wasn’t sure how she got on the bus, though I suspected an inside job.

“Oh, hi, I’m Sunny Kay. Name fits, doesn’t it? Full name is Sunny Kay Morton, in fact. Yep, I’m a local yokel. I figured that I would treat you to some ... good, old-fashioned, hillbilly hospitality. I made some biscuits and gravy and brought some to you guys for breakfast, too. Plenty of sausage, too, in fact, and fried eggs, sunny side up.

“I was checking out this area last night and ran into those two angels of yours. They said that you were a Prophet. So I asked if that meant that you were chaste or celibate and they laughed, saying, no, that you were a ‘real lecher who would love a sweet piece of ass’ like me. So, here I am. Your ‘sweet piece of ass’ as they put it,” the teenage cutie informed me now.

“Do you live on your own?” I asked, “by the way, I’m Adam Clarke. As in the Prophet Adam Clarke. Also, former Co-Mayor of Roanoke, former Sheriff of Lancaster County, Virginia. And Lieutenant General of the Roanoke Defense Forces. Former Seaman in the United States Navy, I might add.”

“Oh, goody. I love semen,” Sunny winked at me as she began riding me even harder and put my hands on her ass, “feel that butt and tell me that it isn’t to die for, huh?”

“What brought this on, huh?” I teased her.

“I told you. The angels said that you were a true Prophet and that you were a horny bastard to boot. They said that you have many wives, but that you would always welcome another woman, or man, for that matter, to your bed. I want you to breed me, sir. I hear that you’ve done that a lot, at least in Roanoke, maybe elsewhere, for that matter, so what’s one more?

“Don’t get any crazy ideas, though. I’m not leaving town. I need you to help me keep this town from dying out. You need to breed me and some other ladies in town, the ones who can breed. You and your fellow guys can breed us and put some new life into our dwindling genepool. Yep, I’m whip smart, too. And if you doubt me, feel free to use a whip to make me smart!” Sunny reassured me while humping me into next week.

“Who’s gonna help raise the babies?” I asked her out of curiosity.

“Grandpa Joe, Granny Jane, Auntie Lise, several of those. Auntie Lise is pretty cool. She’s my maternal aunt and she came over from Denmark many years ago. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been rather sad since Pa was killed, but I avenged his murder and my rape by those thugs, with help from several others. We just had shotguns, hunting rifles, pistols, and knives, but they did the trick. Those bastards were not allowed to stain the burial grounds of those they murdered, though. We fed their flesh to our dogs,” Sunny told me now.

“Are you half-Danish, then?” I asked her to be clear.

“Yep. Ma’s a Dane ... or was. She was killed on Fireball Day, because she was in DC at the time. Great woman, though. Just like Auntie Lise, who lived with Pa like man and wife toward the end. Everyone knew that she had been sharing Pa with Ma, anyway, even if they didn’t want to admit that fact. It was a minor scandal, but as long as people could pretend that it wasn’t happening, they could cope with it. It was hard not to be charmed by two gorgeous, elegant, vivacious Scandinavian women brightening up a dying backwoods town, right?” Sunny declared as she continued to move vigorously to please me.

“Do you live with your Auntie Lise, then?” I inquired.

“Yes, I do. Grandpa Joe and Granny Jane live nearby. Those aren’t my blood kin, but they are very close to me and very kind. They don’t agree with how I live my life at times, but they’re still very sweet to me. I take good care of them and they of me. And I sleep with Grandpa Joe at times. Granny Jane pretends that she doesn’t know, but she does. He has needs, you know, and she just can’t meet them as much as he would like. He’s quite virile for his age. Auntie Lise does it, too. And ... she and I kinda ... do things together, too,” Sunny informed me, even as I parted her cheeks and played with her tight pucker.