5 Clan Amir The Falcon in FlightChapter 06
- 4 years ago
- 14
- 0
Ten hours and two diversionary loops off the trail and we haven’t shaken the four Hybrids that are tracking us - one man and three women. They're good, no doubt, and even with Lainey’s seemingly unshakable belief that I’m some kind of a superhero, she’s beginning to sense my concern. As a hunter, I’m hardly a match for a Hybrid at my very best and our shortage of quality victuals as of late has left me less than ready for such an encounter.
I stop, raise my field glasses, and take a look back. Well-equipped with crossbows at their hips of a higher quality than mine, what do they want with the two of us? We obviously don’t have much to give up, so why have they been so persistent? We’ll have to lose them before the crevasse jog, or else we’ll be leading them to Upper Camp.
“Milo,” Lainey says with a look that melts my heart, “do you just shoot them when they get close?”
I restart our trek with no response. Spoken as if killing Hybrids is some kind of a game. As annoying as this waif can be, with a face as innocent and tender as a child, she’s too-often getting what she wants – repressed parenting urges on my part? But as free and easy as she is with sex, I shouldn’t complain.
Short of available clan members during the Beach Camp netting season, Darwin had paired newbie Lainey with me for this trip to prep Upper Camp for Elite Celebration. But where had she come from? Freshly off an isolated mountain farm three years into the aftertimes? I can’t remember seeing any wholesome aftertimes mountain farms here in Hawaii. But her sweet, pleading face deserves an answer, so I reply, “I’ve never killed, and I don’t want to start with a Hybrid.”
“They might as well be human, they’re so close,” she quips.
“But they’re not, and don’t you forget it,” I remind her.
Hybrids. Sleek and mysteriously attractive. No known spoken words or language but they somehow manage to communicate. I’d watched unafraid in awe as they had raided Beach Camp for food with a quick in and out where no one got hurt. And their physiques … the lines and shapes of the men are … what? Why am I even thinking of the men that way? And that begs the question of who the fuck I was before the Global Crash and how the hell I ended up in Hawaii. Damn, gotta’ get out of this homo-swooning mode and keep it in mind that Hybrids are dangerous opportunists. And then, double-dangerous because they usually appear when the biggest of the big killdogs are circling. But there’s been no evidence of killdogs up here in the mountains, thank God.
We’re a half-day from reaching the crevasse jog and the sun's setting. I’ve set our night-camp inside a mass of brambles knowing that the Hybrids likely know where we are, but there’s nothing that can be done about that because I have to get some sleep – at least a few hours. With my crossbow at ready, I’ve set Lainey to sit quietly on watch which is the best that I can do, so good night to all. I pull my sleeping bag over my shoulders with Lainey sitting nearby quietly humming a pleasant song.
Brambles lazily circle overhead rubbing their branches in a soft, woodsy chorus. I've slept longer than I had intended and dawn is getting ready to break. Sensing Lainey by my side and feeling that things are safe enough for now, I roll over for a few more minutes of cat-nap.
“You’re awake! Get up ‘cause I’ve gotta’ show you something.” Lainey chimes in a sweet melody.
I sit up, and before I can speak, she takes my arm and pulls me up.
“He wants you!” she cries with flashing eyes.
“Who? What are you talking about?”
Before I can figure what-the-fuck, she pulls me out of the brambles, drops my arm, and runs off towards the trail. Wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts with my bare feet painfully tromping through prickly brambles and sharp rocks, I can barely keep up – what’s this loon-tune woman up to?
“Lainey! Stop where you are!”
“He wants you!”
Before I can make any sense of this debacle, I find myself in the Hybrid camp with three of the most incredibly sexy women that I’ve ever laid eyes on approaching me wearing nothing but G-strings. The brunette takes my trembling hand, guides it down her tight abs, clamps my palm onto her hot bunch, and firmly humps. If a boner can make a sound, then mine flipped out of the boxer-slot with a crisp and all-too audible, SPRUNNNG!
With my head swimming, the three pull me to the sleek, young man sitting on a mat cross-legged wearing a loincloth. They push me down facing him and he takes my hard cock gently in his warm hands, strokes, and looks into my eyes with an intense need that feels fearfully male-familiar. Then he raises to his knees, removes his loincloth to reveal an exquisite example of a hard male organ, grips my head in his hands, and guides my mouth down onto his cock.
Déjà vu. Sometime, somewhere, I’d been penetrated by the musty, throbbing male organ. Quivering, with hot adrenaline flashing up my spine and over my scalp, I began working the shaft with firm suction as I savored the soft, giving male skin…
Hunger…
Women surrounding, mewing, caressing…
Firm thickness…
A meaty head…
Smooth, salty pre-cum, silky on my tongue and lips…
Gentle pumping…
Hunger…
Harder pumping… then...
Hot, piercing jolts…
Throat tingling…
Swallow…
Release… forever… forever…
Collapse.
I must have passed out because I’m drifting down to the mat from somewhere above. Lainey’s face is close-up looking like the Cheshire Cat with a grin from ear-to-ear. She’s wiping my spunky jaw with something wet.
Stay tuned for Chapter Two – “Upper Camp Gets Compromised”
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