Chapter 6

“This is an excellent steak, I must say, bloody delicious!” Nina declared as she dug into her meat.

“Same with these fajitas! Sizzle, sizzle, just like you ladies!” I commented while thinking of the waitress who delivered them, Cassidy, a delectable blondie for sure.

“Just like that blonde that brought them, too,” Heather pointed out, right as my cell phone rang.

“Bruce, it’s me, Trevor. I’m ... in Jersey. As in Old Jersey. Channel Islands. Caught a private plane with a few of my mates out of the country. I don’t know how long we’ll be safe here, but it’s not formally part of the UK, of course, so the laws haven’t quite taken effect yet. By George, that was a close one! Wasn’t able to get the kids out, but that’s sadly them paying the price for my naivete. Anyway, we’re set to refuel for a day or two in the country and then make a dash for Antwerp. I’m brushing up on my Flemish, to put it mildly. Figure that the Belgians owe us a bit for sticking up for them in 1914 against the Huns. I just hope that the lads don’t pay too high a price for my stupidity.

“Did you see that bit about the Prince of Wales? Seems that he and the Duke of York and some others escaped with some help from the Queen. They’re in Scotland and there’s serious talk of formal secession. The Queen’s rumoured to favour it as a way to limit the nukes in New Order hands. Privately, she’s no fan of the new regime, as shown by her refusal to sack male Lords and men on her Privy Council. New Order might decide to just scrap the monarchy at this rate as more trouble than it’s worth.

“What I’m hearing now is that many in the EU are very fond of the idea of a sovereign Scotland and maybe even Wales as part of the European Union, leaving England very much alone. Those are the reports that I’m getting from French and German media, for instance. It’s said that many Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, and others are bustling for Europe, either Ireland or the Continent, as well. None of them wish to stay in England now.

“Sanctions are reportedly coming and soon. I wouldn’t want to even be a woman living in England much longer. Brexit is gonna be even harder than anyone thought. Oh, and BoJo got killed resisting arrest while trying to escape. Sadly for this country, he’ll now become a martyr to some. Good riddance. New Order’s worse, yes, but BoJo can rot in Hell,” Trevor scoffed.

“Yes, Boris Johnson and his Leave campaign made New Order possible in the first place, by weakening the existing party structure and leaving a vacuum that New Order could fill. I’ll never forgive him. He can go roast near the New Order bitches when they land in Hell, too, if there is one. If there’s not, they need to invent one just for politicians!” I heaped on the hatred of Johnson, a most repugnant man and likely the whipping boy used by New Order to sell their cause to ignorant women.

“Yes, well, anyway, sad as I will be for the fate of my kids, I’ll be praying to any god that might exist for their safety and if they ever need my help in Belgium, I’ll be right there for them. I guess that I need to really work on my French, too, in case I run into some Walloons. At least I can possibly get a job working for NATO or something, who knows? Or for the European Union. What’s left of it, largely a Franco-German hegemony, still better than an England that isn’t really England anymore. Anyway, so long, my old friend, until or unless we meet again. Give Nina my love. Farewell, mates,” Trevor declared as he hung up, leaving me a bit relieved that he was safely off England proper.

“He’s in the Channel Islands and sends his love. Trevor, that is. I’ll still breathe easier once he’s off British soil entirely. Pity that his brats couldn’t make the trip. Sounds like life in England’s about to degrade significantly in terms of quality. Blokes will have it rougher, but the EU’s gonna screw those matriarchs with their knickers still on and scarcely a dollop of lube. Hard Brexit’s gonna take on a brand new meaning, I suspect. Trevor’s talking economic sanctions! Sanctions on England, like it’s some kind of Third World pariah state! Well, I suppose that it’s a rogue nation now, isn’t it? Men as second-class citizens. That won’t fly!” I laughed as I downed more of my red and dug deeper into my fajitas.

Heather winked at me as she bit more into her bangers and mash, and then Nina planted wet kisses on both of our lips. It wasn’t much longer before Heather was on top of me and her juicy quim engulfed my cock, even as Nina spread her bum cheeks and got busy licking her arsehole. When Nina poured some wine down Heather’s crack and began cleaning it off with her tongue, Heather really moaned in delight and rode me even harder with her tight, slippery twat. Heather bounced up and down greedily on my prick while we fucked, every swipe of Nina’s tongue driving her wild with lust.

It was very spontaneous, but I was all in favour of that, as it indicated heat, passion, genuine desire to pleasure and delight each other. We were very much engaged in an intense encounter, my flesh brushing repeatedly against theirs, as we changed positions several times. Nina found herself riding me, too, when Heather wasn’t. There were multiple times that I licked both cunny and bum as they were presented to me. Heather’s arse was equally as delicious as Nina’s, to say nothing of her snatch. Both women were quite enjoyable, their flavours and juices dripping perfectly off my tongue in a mouth-watering fashion.