Erica Ranch Wife pt 7 lost cucumber
- 4 years ago
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BohicaChapter 3 free porn video
Yet another dream. I never seem to dream before the Night as Madness the same way I dreamed afterwards. Before, they were often fragmentary, making little sense. And most were forgotten almost immediately after waking up.
But ever since that night, the dreams were always so vivid, and lingered in memory afterwards. This time, I was Chris and was going down on Mark, he was sitting on her couch as I was sucking his cock. But I realized my point of view as not of being as Chris, but seeming to float over her shoulder, watching the action. One hand reached up and caressing his chest, the other wrapped firmly around the base of his cock. And just as Mark was straining to keep his ass down in the chair and not thrust up as he came in her mouth, a sound from the bedroom distracted me.
I floated to the doorway, and saw Bohica thrusting into Gloria. She was on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, and he was standing on the side. His hands holding her hips as he thrust into her, his big dark cock obviously covered with her wetness as he plunged in and out. Over and over again. She was moaning, but it was impossible to tell if it was in pleasure or pain.
With a grunt Bo pulled his cock out and drove it between her ass cheeks as spurts of cum jetted out, reaching all the way to the base of her neck before covering most of her back before dribbling down to coat her ass cleavage in white cum. One thing that always amazed me when I was Bo was how much, well, volume he produced. I had been with my share of guys over the years, but none had ever produced anywhere near as much as he did when masturbating.
I awoke, freezing up as I felt a hard cock pressing between my ass cheeks. I almost panicked, thinking it was Bo’s cock before I realized it was Mark. We were spooned up together, his cock lying nicely against my bottom, and delightfully hard. Morning twilight was seeping through the curtains, as I eased away a moment, then with a gentle push on his hip I had him roll onto his back.
I pulled the covers down and taking him in one hand, I pulled his cock away from his belly and took it into my mouth. With my other hand, I reached down and started to play with myself. Feeling the stickiness from the other night, I soon had my own wetness flowing and was spreading it around my labia as I took him deeper into my mouth.
I rose up and gently moved over him, aiming him up with one hand as I lowered my hips, biting my lower lip to keep quiet as I felt him enter my body. With a soft sigh I worked up and down several times, until he was once again deep inside. It had been so long since I had enjoyed just this simple act, of feeling a man inside of me like this.
I worked my hips slowly, hands squeezing my breasts as I watched him. Still sleeping as I fucked his body, his cock. After several minutes his eyes opened, and he gave a huge grin. “Oh what a way to wake up, come here!”
He was stronger than me, and I could not stop him from pulling my body down onto his and kissing me. I moved my knees and continued working him over, my bottom rising and falling as we kissed deeply, I could feel him tremble under and inside of me, and moved faster. His hands tried to grasp my hips and get me to move stop, but I fought against him. “Oh Chris baby, slow down, I’m almost there.”
I started to move faster, telling him I knew, and to not hold back. “It’s OK Mark, go ahead. You pleased me plenty last night, this time is all yours.” With a grunt he pushed up hard, almost lifting my knees from the mattress and I once again felt him cumming inside of me. I settled down onto him, and we shared kisses and caresses as we talked for about 15 minutes until he finally slipped out. Finally satiated we took another shower together then headed to the kitchen.
Mark spent several minutes exploring, having not seen much of my kitchen the night before other than the island in the center. “Wow, I’m impressed. A microwave and toaster oven combo, a professional mixing stand set, even a classic 1950’s double oven and stovetop range, griddle, and a deep fryer. You really went all out for this!”
I had told him some snippets of my life prior, even admitting my mother was one of the mutants who had died that night when her new powers went out of control. “Well, when I got the insurance settlements I decided I wanted to start a new life. I bought this entire building, and turned the top floor into my apartment. I always loved to cook, although it is nothing like what you do. The building had been an appliance store that had closed years before I bought it, and that was sitting in the back.” I reached out and lightly caressed the range with my hand.
“It cost a pretty penny to get it restored, it had just been left downstairs along with some other used appliances I think they had taken in on trade. The enamel was an ugly green and chipped, so I found a place that removed it, this is all brand new. It’s far larger than I needed, but when I saw it I knew I had to have it. Basically I designed the kitchen around the stove.”
“Smart move, I wish I had something like this when I started. Two ovens, four burners, a deep fryer and griddle. When Peter and I graduated from culinary school, we rented in a closed Mexican place, and had to do with two regular stoves. We could have done the work on both of those just on this, and still been able to deep fry at the same time. Let me know if you ever want to sell this, I can guarantee a buyer!”
“Not a chance,” I laughed. “If I ever get married, I am going to make sure in the pre-nupt that the stove remains in my custody.” Thankfully he laughed at that, and I realized that this was not exactly the way I wanted a conversation like this between us so early.
This time I cooked. Nothing as fancy as he had made, scrambled eggs with some shredded beef and cheddar, with chicken chorizo and frozen hash browns. But he still said it was good, and made sure there were no leftovers. We watched TV for a bit, then found ourselves back in the bedroom where he once again left me shaking and weak after giving me a good plowing for half an hour before leaving a final deposit inside my bank.
He was still oozing out of me as I kissed him goodbye and he had to head home. He had to peel and shred about 10 pounds of potatoes and set them to soak for a breakfast he was doing the next morning for a Fireman’s Award Ceremony, so he had to head off to start the prep. I settled in for a long leisurely soak, feeling delightfully well fucked.
It was just before noon as I headed out the roof top access and jumped to the next building. This time I headed east instead of north, deciding to hit up another area of Darktown I had not hit in ages. I dropped to the street 5 blocks away in an alley, and walked onto Culver Avenue.
This was a rough area, rougher than those I normally patrolled. And as usual in the daytime, I saw the street punks fading away as I walked down the street. As I walked, I considered the idea of getting some kind of vehicle. As Bo, I could see myself riding a motorcycle, or cruising around in something like a classic GTO. Sometimes it got old having to skulk to my watch areas, or even having to refuse a request to help out in a mission by Control because the disturbance was 10 miles away.
But I just could not imagine arriving at some riot in progress as Bo, driving a Prius.
But it was time to start thinking of such things, if I wanted to do more for my city. The problem was how to keep it secret and anonymous. I valued my life as Chris far too much to let the secret become common knowledge. Clint, Sarge, a great many Paladins lived openly. But me, I knew I could never do that.
And more than that, I doubted that Chris could ever have a boyfriend if he ever knew she had this as a secret. “Oh Mark honey, by the way. When you are not fucking me silly over the kitchen counter, I’m really a huge black guy that has a cock that makes yours look small.”
I chuckled at that thought, also feeling a bit sad by it. I knew I was able if I wanted to spend my entire life as Chris, and never become Bohica ever again. The problem was, I liked being Bohica. I liked the feeling of power, and knowing I was making a difference. And even more importantly, that I was helping people. More than anything else, I wanted to help others.
I was loitering on a corner, watching a bunch of girls passing by on the other side of the street when my phone rang. It was Control, and there was a protest on the other side of town and they were afraid it might grow out of control. I told them I could be there in less than an hour, and headed to the closest subway station.
One advantage of being a Paladin, I had a card in my wallet good for free fare on all public and private transit. I could even go to an airline ticket counter and get a free flight anywhere in the US, Control would pay it so long as there was an official need for me to take it.
I got off the subway and walked the final 3 blocks to the protest, and things were looking rough. A street punk had been shot by cops the week before, and people were demanding that the cops be arrested for it.
Yea, that was not going to happen. Curtis Taylor was a known Darktown scumbucket. No, scumbucket was too kind for him. In fact, it was an insult to scumbuckets to have him mentioned at the same time. He was a member of the Pittbulls, drugs and assault were his thing. I had arrested him the year before after he pistol whipped a guy for his paycheck. But he and his attorney had convinced the jury that he had never hit Mr. Williams, and the gun was not his. So he got only the jail time before his trial. Then people wonder why I sometimes want to “play rough” when I catch them.
He sure wanted to dance with Mr. Williams, but for some reason when I body checked him against the wall he no longer wanted to play. I had no doubt he was guilty, Mr. Williams was already unconscious and bleeding when I arrived, he was kicking him just for the fun of it. And not learning his lesson, he was right back to doing it again when his luck ran out.
I moved around the edge of the crowd, and nodded at Sensei and Dire Wolf as I arrived. The 3 of us had worked together several times before. Sensei was Clint, a martial artist who ran his own dojo before the Night, and had increased in size about 50%. And it was not that he had grown hair like an animal, but there was more hair on his body than that porn actor with the big dick they called “The Hedgehog”. At 8 foot tall, he even gave me a run for the money whenever we sparred. And I am positive he could have beat me if he had really tried, but he was an incredibly gentle man in real life.
Chris would probably have liked to have bed him, if I did not know that he had a monster of a cock that I saw when we showered after one of our workouts. Forget baby arm, he had a man’s arm hanging down there. But as Chris, I would still love to get my hands around it and have some fun.
Dire Wolf was in full costume, and Fang was sitting next to her. Among us mutants, there was only 1 animal that changed also. Nobody knows her true background that I know of (other than Control), we only see her in full costume. But I assume she is a Chameleon like me, because otherwise she was impossible to miss. She is an impressive Asian lady, amazingly beautiful, and built like an Amazon at over 6 feet tall. And Fang is the size of the prehistoric dire wolf, standing almost 4 feet at the shoulders.
Dire Wolf was also one of the few Paladins who actually wore a “Costume”, and what a costume! It was a Chinese dress called a “Cheongsam”, but instead of silk it was made from some kind of stretchable material. Slit all the way to the thigh on both sides, ankle long. The material was black, with dark blue embroidery. And the way it accented her figure, even completely straight Chris thought she was hot as hell. And she wore it with silver gloves. With a dark blue bandanna around the forehead to hold the hair, and black thigh high boots. At one time she wore a blue domino mask, but she ditched that fairly quickly.
But I was sure she was a Chameleon, there was absolutely no way she could look like that and fade into the background. A body like hers was impossible to ignore. And as far as I knew, like Bohica she did not see to exist when not working.
“Yo, Bhoica! Are you really going to stand up with the pigs against us?” somebody in the crowd yelled out at me as I walked up and exchanged hugs with my friends.
“Yep, and you know why. I have seen you in Darktown, and you know that Curtis was a punk. Remember, I arrested him myself last year when he put that dockworker in the hospital. He was already a felon at that point, and I arrested him with a gun. So why don’t you all go home, and wait for the investigation. This is not some boy scout you are protecting, he is a criminal and a thug. And he was found leaving the scene of a home invasion no less. Where he beat up the father and mother, and had molested the little girl. Let the investigation finish, and if it turns out Curtis is innocent, I will be one of the first you will see demanding justice. But demanding those cops be arrested at this point is only helping the scum like Curtis.”
Some started to yell at me, but I could see others actually nodding in agreement. “Tell you what, why not start your investigation with Mr. Williams, that guy he beat up last year. He is at home most days, living off of his disability because Curtis fucked him up so bad he will never work again. Maybe you can convince him that Curtis should never have been shot!”
I turned and gave Dire Wolf a fast look, and I saw she was on the phone and she gave me a smile and nod. While the three of us were not actually a “Team”, we worked together often and got along well together. But as soon as I started to work with them, Clint told me quickly and in no uncertain terms that Dire Wolf was our unspoken leader. Whenever the three of us worked together, she gave the orders and organized us.
Then Fang stood up, and raised his muzzle to the sky and gave out one of his classic howls. This got the attention of everybody. Then Dire Wolf started to speak to the crowd.
“Look everybody, we are not here to stop your protest. Right before Bohica here arrived, I got permission from the Mayor for you to have your march from here to Founder’s Park. We are going to be along with you for the entire march, and nobody will stop you. SO LONG AS IT REMAINS PEACEFUL! Protest, chant, yell your slogans. But if anybody steps out of line, we will step in. So go ahead, you all should be heading that way, and not lingering here.” One of her silver gloved hands pointed to the South, and she smiled at them.
I think we all breathed a sigh of relief as a much more subdued crowd started their march, I know I did. We chatted as we trailed along behind them, watching for any signs that things were getting out of control. Clint was talking about his girlfriend, and Dire and I both raised eyebrows at each other.
“Clint my friend, how could that even work, unless you are dating a Queen Kong?” Dire quipped.
“Don’t ask, and Queen Kong is not my type. She is normal size, and we are, ahhh, still working out the details there.”
Queen Kong was a mutant many of us felt sorry for. Control knows her name, and is keeping it secret at her request. All they have released is that she was a female human, before she changed. Now almost 30 feet tall, she is a huge gorilla, who normally goes into battle in a bikini.
I met her a few times, and it always makes me sad. Looking into her eyes, you can feel her inner pain. She literally lost whatever her life was before this happened to her. The knowledge that she can never again be with somebody, that she ultimately will die alone. The mutation also took away her vocal cords, so she can only grunt and vocalize a few simple words like “yes” and “no”. But her mind is still fully human, only her body changed. She is very intelligent, and she has an income from her poetry which she types on a custom keyboard she had made for her.
Poetry that makes the works of Jim Morrison seem happy and upbeat. I would gladly spend more time with her, if she did not live 600 miles away. But at least 2 or 3 times a year, as Bohica I go over and visit. She is the only other person who knows about Chris.
On my second visit, I brought along an 8x10 picture of Chris, and showed it to her. I showed it to her, and said it was me before the Night of Madness. A tear that could have filled a bucket rolled down her cheek as she looked at me and the picture, and she gave a smile and nod. She knew I understood at least a bit what she was going through. I did not have the heart to tell her I could change back and forth at will. Chris still cries at night sometimes remembering that exchange.
Thankfully, Queenie rarely has to do much of anything. Her simply showing up at a scene is normally enough to have it stop.
About halfway to the park, some of the chanting seemed to turn angry. So with a nod to my partners I trotted up to see what was going on. I saw the chanters from the back, and it was a bunch of Pittbulls trying to rile them up, five or six of them. I simply stepped between two of the apparent leaders and put an arm across each shoulder.
“Boys, you know what kind of punk he was, the same kind of punk you guys are. I suggest you all scatter, and stop trying to anger these people. Fang back there has likely not had his dinner, and I don’t think you Puppydogs are ready to square up against him.”
I grinned, realizing I used the derisive term that Carl had used for them. Both of the ones my arms were around tried to recoil away from me, but I held them tight as the rest of their group scattered among the crowd. “No, you both stay right here with me for a block or so, we are just showing our support, ya dig? Then you all can go on your own way, but remember what I said. I know who you two are, Two Times and Freaky. If there is any trouble from here on out, I am looking you both up, got it?” They nodded, and at the next block I let them go and both quickly faded away.
The march finally arrived at the park, and I saw that an impromptu ceremony of sorts had been arranged at the bandstand. The Mayor gave a short speech, promising that the investigation would be open and thorough. Then Reverend Derek May, PhD AME gave a very moving speech about hate, vengeance without justice, and urging everybody to be peaceful until the investigation is concluded.
Then Joe Williams took the stage. He walked up with his cane, his daughter helping him up the steps. He told them about the night Curtis attacked him, and that because he did not believe the $300 he handed over was all of his money Curtis started to beat him with a pistol. And then waking up in the hospital and living with brain damage and a shattered leg from that beating.
“Does he deserve justice, yes. But do not think for one second he was a good person. And before you yell for the cops to get out of your neighborhood, remember that it is because of people like that they are there in the first place! Yes, we have Bohica over there, he helps a lot. But he is only one man. Remember Curtis. Remember that he was a vicious thug, who beat and stole from his neighbors. Who sold drugs to our kids, and made us afraid to be out at night. Curtis lived by the sword, and he died by the sword. Like me, he had beat a family after stealing from them. For the pleasure he got from hurting others. He just had the bad luck to run out of the house as the police were arriving, called by a neighbor. He then pulled a gun on the cops, who shot him. Do not blame the sword that killed him, but the sword he chose to use against others.”
With scattered applause and “Amen” shouts, the crowd started to break up. And it was a somber, introspective crowd than the angry one that I had originally arrived to see. “Was this your doing?” I asked Dire. She smiled and nodded.
“They had filed a request to march to the park, but the Police denied it. It was in the news earlier today. While you were talking to them I had Control patch me through to the mayor, and he heard the last part of your talking to them. He agreed with my idea to let them march, and we could allow them to let off some steam on the way. The ending was all his idea though. I bet he heard you mention Mr. Williams and got him there. And that was the perfect way to end it. Justice, not Vengeance. Look to yourself before blaming others.”
Clint and I all nodded as the three of us headed back to City Square. Several came up and shook our hands. And as usual, the kids loved giving Fang full body hugs and ruffling his fur. As horrifying as he could be in battle (I once saw him bite the arm off of a bank robber with an AK), he was amazingly gentle when not provoked. I had never had a dog, but even I knew Fang was special. He could tear open a car with his jaws, yet as we walked back I saw a little girl in a stroller drop a stuffed bunny on the ground. Fang bounded over, and delicately picked it up and returned it to her.
Once we were back at where it all started, Clint and I exchanged man hugs, and I promised to stop by sometime soon for more sparing. Dire gave me a big hug, and smiled as she wished me a good evening.
I headed back to the subway for the ride home, thinking as I did. Dire had a big black box truck she used to get to her locations, it was the only thing big enough for Fang. Maybe I could get some ideas from her as to how to keep my identity secret. Clint did not have that problem. Being “Out of the closet”, he just used his upsized custom made 3 wheeler to take him where he needed to go. Dire with her van, Clint with his chopper, me on the subway.
I got back to my neighborhood, and was passing by Carl’s when I saw Carl, Gloria, and the cook locking up the diner. I tried to remain unobserved across the street, but Gloria saw me. Her and Carl came across the street, and we chatted a bit before he told Gloria to come along because he had to head home.
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