SEVERUSMAX
08-21-2012, 12:42 AM
The next few weeks were the proverbial blur, one could say. There was Militia training, initiation into the officer corps, and orientation as a field nurse. Compared to being a civilian RN, this was something quite different. I was busy, which I really liked, but I didn't have time for any kind of personal life.
Nor did the reality of the battlefield change this for me. I was harried, hustling from one wounded soldier to another. The number of combatants greatly outweighed the noncombatant personnel, which was not surprising. This was a civil war, after all. The furious and desperate zeal of the Robertsonites made it far worse than it might have been. I could see exactly why the Militia needed me so much. I killed no one myself, but there were times when I feared that I might have no alternative soon.
The weeks continued to fade into the next weeks, with the casualty lists growing longer by the second. Unfortunately for the Coalition, there were far more Militia to spare than "warriors of God". The zealots died hard, but no one took their places in the trenches. Position after position, bunker after bunker, and barricade after barricade, our side gained more territory.
The Coalition made its last-ditch stand at City Hall in Virginia Beach. Their ammo dumps gone, their bullets down to those in the magazines of their own small arms, and their quartermaster already a POW, Robertson's troops held out for a miracle for another fortnight. Snipers, while amateurs by Republican Front standards, killed off dozens of cocky young Militiamen, but it did them no good.
They fought stubbornly on the last day with revolvers and Molotov cocktails, but Robertson and his fanatics were aware of their imminent defeat. They simply had no reason to surrender. Life after defeat was too galling for them, especially the old televangelist himself. He knew that he would get shot either way, so he fired every round in his chamber. I was so close to the front lines at this point that I saw a barrage of .223 bullets rip open his neck and torso, killing the public enemy at last.
My last sight of the short, bitter conflict between the Republican Front and the Christian Coalition was the public cremation of the enemy dead in a city that had gone from resort to war zone. The civilians were largely in hiding at first, though they began to reveal themselves after a few hours.
In weeks, I was back in Kanawha County, now living in the Bachelor Officers' Quarters at the local Militia base. There were no parades for us, because everyone knew that the fighting was hardly over in most of the country or the world. This was just one more campaign to recover territory from counterrevolutionary scum. There were to be more wars to fight soon, and I would just have to wait for the final homecoming a while longer.
Even so, on my first 48 hours of liberty, I ran into a familiar face at the nearest diner. She was very thrilled to see me alive. Summer had a grin as wide as a lottery winner's back in the old days. She seemed to believe that she had won the jackpot, at least sexually speaking.
"Hey, sir, what would you like to eat?" she asked me, taking unusual pleasure in her service to this particular patron.
"Well, I hoped for a nice clam dinner, but I'll settle for the best food in West Virginia," I teased her with a rather deviant gripe.
"Oh, I wouldn't give up hope for that, just as I haven't quit salivating over the prospect of a unique kind of sausage. But short of that, I recommend the chicken-fried steak. It's an artery-clogging dream come true. The potatoes are hand-cut, by the way. I'll let you guess whose fingers held the knife that peeled them," Summer winked to reassure me that she wanted to start our fling once again.
"Wow, she cooks, too! You really are a hillbilly's ideal woman, and I mean that as a compliment. I might well have to make an honest woman out of you, as the old-fogies used to say. Still live where you did before?" I probed with horny anticipation.
"Yep. There's always room for a certain lieutenant, if the Militia will let him live off-base. At the very least, he can come to visit me whenever his superiors allow it," the blonde made it evident.
I had only slept with one other woman since getting out of prison, and that was another nurse in a heated quickie during a very short lull in the hostilities. There was no real sleep, and we both knew that there was no chance of a future. She was married, but she hadn't seen her husband since his desertion. I had the impression that she fucked me to scratch her itch and retaliate for her hubby's cowardice. I just had the former reason, of course.
That being true, I had no objection to again seeing this naturally blonde, All-American diner waitress with her playful blue eyes and lustful smile. Her admitted preference for male authority figures made it that much easier for me. I didn't know how long we might last, but even a short-lived relationship would be nice for me, after my long romantic drought. Then again, marriage to her sounded even better, if she would have me.
"Well, we could always just get hitched, if you would prefer," I replied, half in jest.
"Hey, I haven't had any better offers," Summer remarked with a sigh of pleasure at the idea.
"A babe like you?" I expressed my doubts about that comment.
"I didn't say no offers, mind you. I just haven't had any better than yours," she pointed out.
"Now, that is more credible. So, what do you think about it?" I rather informally popped the question.
"What happens if we don't last?"
"We become roommates who share a last name and use each other as a booty call. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?" I grinned at the idea of that worst-case scenario and the logic involved in my proposal.
"Oh, what the hell? I get a hunk for a roommate who can help me pay the rent. And I get to sleep with him into the bargain. What are the drawbacks, again?" Summer laughed.
"You're actually considering it, then?" I reacted with pleasant surprise.
"Why not? This way, you get out of the Bachelor Officers' Quarters and I get to see my brother put on a tuxedo for the first time in years. That image in itself sounds great. Besides, being married to a male nurse sounds useful, anyway. You're a fine catch for any girl, especially in these hard times. Sure, I'll marry you. But there are two conditions," the blonde told me with a smile.
"What are they?" I inquired, truly curious.
"You have to knock me up, for one thing. I want at least one baby," she stuck her tongue out at me while saying that part.
"Really? You want me to impregnate you?"
"Sure, why not? Even if we don't last, you being my roommate would give me the stability needed to raise a child. You would be a great dad, I think, and the kid would be none the wiser until he was grown up. Which leads to the second condition," she said.
"Which would be what?" I was truly mystified.
"No divorce. Period. Like you said, we stay together as roommates. Not to mention fuckbuddies. That's if we prove less than soul mates," Summer explained with an easy grin. She clearly enjoyed the idea of us together as a couple, romantic or otherwise.
"So, in between boyfriends and girlfriends, and such, we could screw each other silly," I teased her.
"Honey, I don't care if you have a dozen girlfriends. Any time you want my body, you can have it on a silver platter. Marriage, however, is a dicier matter. If I am going to share my house with a guy, he'd better have something to make it worth my while. Otherwise, it can be a very rough place to live in. You see, I can be practical in my own way. Not all blondes are dumb. I'd suggest shacking up first, but I doubt the Militia would let its officers leave the Quarters short of something official to prove their intent to play house with a gal. As soft as I am on most issues, I am tough as nails about picking a roommate or husband," she clarified, with a mix of naughtiness and candor.
"Well, you have a point about that," I shrugged, because she indeed had one.
"Of course, I do. Look, I'll be honest. This thing between us has a better than even chance of working out, but I'll live either way. On the other hand, I badly want to be a mother, since there is less time to find that kind of love than the romantic kind. Also, I want a guarantee of regular cock, one way or the other. If I have to marry for convenience to get those things, then I'll do it. Hence my terms. If you have any requirements, I'll listen and consider them as well," Summer added.
"So, no divorce. Well, I like that. Been there, done that. I am no fan of divorce. It's sometimes necessary, but it's ugly as hell. Suppose, however, one of us cheats. Do we automatically just revert to roommates and friends with benefits on an informal basis?" I wondered.
"Maybe for you, if you really get that jealous and upset. But I'll be frank again with you. I don't give a flip about the whole fidelity issue. We're both human. We both have urges and needs. If you find a nice piece of ass and want to get yourself some strange, I won't even bat an eye. Well, okay, I'll bat them at you to get my own turn.
"But as long as you do nothing to actually throw away the romantic side of our deal, I fail to see cause for any quarrel or change of status. The only things that I can think of that would end our love are the sort that would usually destroy a relationship: abuse, crime, or neglect. Well, and one more thing," she intimated with a rather intense and anticipatory look on her lovely face, clearly excited by the prospect of us getting together.
"Which would be?" I was uncertain of what this could be.
"A vasectomy. Sorry, but you get one before I conceive, and I walk out completely. Get one afterward, and we will definitely revert to purely sexual housemates. I won't cut you off, because I want permanent access to your cock and it would be wrong to deny you equal access to my pussy. But I'd be very disappointed in you, and it would certainly kill the romance. Also, since a vasectomy would deny me sex for a month and half, I would deprive you for exactly that period in retaliation. So, unless you wish the cold shoulder for 3 whole months, I don't recommend getting fixed," she warned me, albeit with her usual playfulness.
"Alright, that's fair. But I do have one condition of my own," I stated baldly, quite unperturbed by her threat, as I didn't care for the idea of the Big V, either.
"What is it? A threesome, perhaps? Consider it done. A gang-bang or an amateur porn film, even, and I wouldn't flinch. Your superiors might, but I doubt it. They're not prudes these days, from what I hear. Hell, I'd screw my brother, if you asked me. Anything for get the daily use of your dick, no questions asked. As long as you bone me every day, share the rent and other expenses, and put a bun in my oven, I'll go along with the program. So, what's the requirement?" she dared me in the same low volume that we'd been instinctively using for this particular conversation.
"I get to be the boss in the bedroom. Period. We can do other things in other parts of the house, but the marriage bed is my domain. I like the idea that we explored before, of you submitting to my control," I asserted.
"It's a deal. Looks like you got yourself a missus. Mrs. Ralph Walker has a nice sound to it, after all. I take it that this will continue, even if we become strictly physical. That's only fair. I like bondage and such things, anyway. I'll enjoy being your personal sex slave. I won't even ask for a safe word. I trust you not to do any real harm. Well, this is quite a day. Not every patron offers me so much over a plate of down-home comfort food," she giggled.
"Yes, but they would if they got to know you better," I chuckled in reply.
So what had started as flirting to see if we stood a chance led to an understanding that we would marry and have a unique relationship that would give both of us what we really wanted in life. Others might have thought it odd, but Summer and I didn't mind so much. After all, it wasn't a perfect world, so a great relationship fit it better than an ideal one, and this one was far from mediocre as mercenary marriages went.
There were worse situations than getting laid for the rest of your life by a sweet blonde who cooked for the love of food and thought you were worth sharing with other gals. That was particularly true if she wanted to have your baby. The fact that she lacked most sexual inhibitions was a bonus indeed.
Those were my thoughts when she got off work and asked me to come home with her again that night. The sight of her tongue gliding across her lips in anticipation as she ogled my package didn't exactly cool me off, either.
Nor did the reality of the battlefield change this for me. I was harried, hustling from one wounded soldier to another. The number of combatants greatly outweighed the noncombatant personnel, which was not surprising. This was a civil war, after all. The furious and desperate zeal of the Robertsonites made it far worse than it might have been. I could see exactly why the Militia needed me so much. I killed no one myself, but there were times when I feared that I might have no alternative soon.
The weeks continued to fade into the next weeks, with the casualty lists growing longer by the second. Unfortunately for the Coalition, there were far more Militia to spare than "warriors of God". The zealots died hard, but no one took their places in the trenches. Position after position, bunker after bunker, and barricade after barricade, our side gained more territory.
The Coalition made its last-ditch stand at City Hall in Virginia Beach. Their ammo dumps gone, their bullets down to those in the magazines of their own small arms, and their quartermaster already a POW, Robertson's troops held out for a miracle for another fortnight. Snipers, while amateurs by Republican Front standards, killed off dozens of cocky young Militiamen, but it did them no good.
They fought stubbornly on the last day with revolvers and Molotov cocktails, but Robertson and his fanatics were aware of their imminent defeat. They simply had no reason to surrender. Life after defeat was too galling for them, especially the old televangelist himself. He knew that he would get shot either way, so he fired every round in his chamber. I was so close to the front lines at this point that I saw a barrage of .223 bullets rip open his neck and torso, killing the public enemy at last.
My last sight of the short, bitter conflict between the Republican Front and the Christian Coalition was the public cremation of the enemy dead in a city that had gone from resort to war zone. The civilians were largely in hiding at first, though they began to reveal themselves after a few hours.
In weeks, I was back in Kanawha County, now living in the Bachelor Officers' Quarters at the local Militia base. There were no parades for us, because everyone knew that the fighting was hardly over in most of the country or the world. This was just one more campaign to recover territory from counterrevolutionary scum. There were to be more wars to fight soon, and I would just have to wait for the final homecoming a while longer.
Even so, on my first 48 hours of liberty, I ran into a familiar face at the nearest diner. She was very thrilled to see me alive. Summer had a grin as wide as a lottery winner's back in the old days. She seemed to believe that she had won the jackpot, at least sexually speaking.
"Hey, sir, what would you like to eat?" she asked me, taking unusual pleasure in her service to this particular patron.
"Well, I hoped for a nice clam dinner, but I'll settle for the best food in West Virginia," I teased her with a rather deviant gripe.
"Oh, I wouldn't give up hope for that, just as I haven't quit salivating over the prospect of a unique kind of sausage. But short of that, I recommend the chicken-fried steak. It's an artery-clogging dream come true. The potatoes are hand-cut, by the way. I'll let you guess whose fingers held the knife that peeled them," Summer winked to reassure me that she wanted to start our fling once again.
"Wow, she cooks, too! You really are a hillbilly's ideal woman, and I mean that as a compliment. I might well have to make an honest woman out of you, as the old-fogies used to say. Still live where you did before?" I probed with horny anticipation.
"Yep. There's always room for a certain lieutenant, if the Militia will let him live off-base. At the very least, he can come to visit me whenever his superiors allow it," the blonde made it evident.
I had only slept with one other woman since getting out of prison, and that was another nurse in a heated quickie during a very short lull in the hostilities. There was no real sleep, and we both knew that there was no chance of a future. She was married, but she hadn't seen her husband since his desertion. I had the impression that she fucked me to scratch her itch and retaliate for her hubby's cowardice. I just had the former reason, of course.
That being true, I had no objection to again seeing this naturally blonde, All-American diner waitress with her playful blue eyes and lustful smile. Her admitted preference for male authority figures made it that much easier for me. I didn't know how long we might last, but even a short-lived relationship would be nice for me, after my long romantic drought. Then again, marriage to her sounded even better, if she would have me.
"Well, we could always just get hitched, if you would prefer," I replied, half in jest.
"Hey, I haven't had any better offers," Summer remarked with a sigh of pleasure at the idea.
"A babe like you?" I expressed my doubts about that comment.
"I didn't say no offers, mind you. I just haven't had any better than yours," she pointed out.
"Now, that is more credible. So, what do you think about it?" I rather informally popped the question.
"What happens if we don't last?"
"We become roommates who share a last name and use each other as a booty call. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?" I grinned at the idea of that worst-case scenario and the logic involved in my proposal.
"Oh, what the hell? I get a hunk for a roommate who can help me pay the rent. And I get to sleep with him into the bargain. What are the drawbacks, again?" Summer laughed.
"You're actually considering it, then?" I reacted with pleasant surprise.
"Why not? This way, you get out of the Bachelor Officers' Quarters and I get to see my brother put on a tuxedo for the first time in years. That image in itself sounds great. Besides, being married to a male nurse sounds useful, anyway. You're a fine catch for any girl, especially in these hard times. Sure, I'll marry you. But there are two conditions," the blonde told me with a smile.
"What are they?" I inquired, truly curious.
"You have to knock me up, for one thing. I want at least one baby," she stuck her tongue out at me while saying that part.
"Really? You want me to impregnate you?"
"Sure, why not? Even if we don't last, you being my roommate would give me the stability needed to raise a child. You would be a great dad, I think, and the kid would be none the wiser until he was grown up. Which leads to the second condition," she said.
"Which would be what?" I was truly mystified.
"No divorce. Period. Like you said, we stay together as roommates. Not to mention fuckbuddies. That's if we prove less than soul mates," Summer explained with an easy grin. She clearly enjoyed the idea of us together as a couple, romantic or otherwise.
"So, in between boyfriends and girlfriends, and such, we could screw each other silly," I teased her.
"Honey, I don't care if you have a dozen girlfriends. Any time you want my body, you can have it on a silver platter. Marriage, however, is a dicier matter. If I am going to share my house with a guy, he'd better have something to make it worth my while. Otherwise, it can be a very rough place to live in. You see, I can be practical in my own way. Not all blondes are dumb. I'd suggest shacking up first, but I doubt the Militia would let its officers leave the Quarters short of something official to prove their intent to play house with a gal. As soft as I am on most issues, I am tough as nails about picking a roommate or husband," she clarified, with a mix of naughtiness and candor.
"Well, you have a point about that," I shrugged, because she indeed had one.
"Of course, I do. Look, I'll be honest. This thing between us has a better than even chance of working out, but I'll live either way. On the other hand, I badly want to be a mother, since there is less time to find that kind of love than the romantic kind. Also, I want a guarantee of regular cock, one way or the other. If I have to marry for convenience to get those things, then I'll do it. Hence my terms. If you have any requirements, I'll listen and consider them as well," Summer added.
"So, no divorce. Well, I like that. Been there, done that. I am no fan of divorce. It's sometimes necessary, but it's ugly as hell. Suppose, however, one of us cheats. Do we automatically just revert to roommates and friends with benefits on an informal basis?" I wondered.
"Maybe for you, if you really get that jealous and upset. But I'll be frank again with you. I don't give a flip about the whole fidelity issue. We're both human. We both have urges and needs. If you find a nice piece of ass and want to get yourself some strange, I won't even bat an eye. Well, okay, I'll bat them at you to get my own turn.
"But as long as you do nothing to actually throw away the romantic side of our deal, I fail to see cause for any quarrel or change of status. The only things that I can think of that would end our love are the sort that would usually destroy a relationship: abuse, crime, or neglect. Well, and one more thing," she intimated with a rather intense and anticipatory look on her lovely face, clearly excited by the prospect of us getting together.
"Which would be?" I was uncertain of what this could be.
"A vasectomy. Sorry, but you get one before I conceive, and I walk out completely. Get one afterward, and we will definitely revert to purely sexual housemates. I won't cut you off, because I want permanent access to your cock and it would be wrong to deny you equal access to my pussy. But I'd be very disappointed in you, and it would certainly kill the romance. Also, since a vasectomy would deny me sex for a month and half, I would deprive you for exactly that period in retaliation. So, unless you wish the cold shoulder for 3 whole months, I don't recommend getting fixed," she warned me, albeit with her usual playfulness.
"Alright, that's fair. But I do have one condition of my own," I stated baldly, quite unperturbed by her threat, as I didn't care for the idea of the Big V, either.
"What is it? A threesome, perhaps? Consider it done. A gang-bang or an amateur porn film, even, and I wouldn't flinch. Your superiors might, but I doubt it. They're not prudes these days, from what I hear. Hell, I'd screw my brother, if you asked me. Anything for get the daily use of your dick, no questions asked. As long as you bone me every day, share the rent and other expenses, and put a bun in my oven, I'll go along with the program. So, what's the requirement?" she dared me in the same low volume that we'd been instinctively using for this particular conversation.
"I get to be the boss in the bedroom. Period. We can do other things in other parts of the house, but the marriage bed is my domain. I like the idea that we explored before, of you submitting to my control," I asserted.
"It's a deal. Looks like you got yourself a missus. Mrs. Ralph Walker has a nice sound to it, after all. I take it that this will continue, even if we become strictly physical. That's only fair. I like bondage and such things, anyway. I'll enjoy being your personal sex slave. I won't even ask for a safe word. I trust you not to do any real harm. Well, this is quite a day. Not every patron offers me so much over a plate of down-home comfort food," she giggled.
"Yes, but they would if they got to know you better," I chuckled in reply.
So what had started as flirting to see if we stood a chance led to an understanding that we would marry and have a unique relationship that would give both of us what we really wanted in life. Others might have thought it odd, but Summer and I didn't mind so much. After all, it wasn't a perfect world, so a great relationship fit it better than an ideal one, and this one was far from mediocre as mercenary marriages went.
There were worse situations than getting laid for the rest of your life by a sweet blonde who cooked for the love of food and thought you were worth sharing with other gals. That was particularly true if she wanted to have your baby. The fact that she lacked most sexual inhibitions was a bonus indeed.
Those were my thoughts when she got off work and asked me to come home with her again that night. The sight of her tongue gliding across her lips in anticipation as she ogled my package didn't exactly cool me off, either.