Raunchy Sex Rocket Fuel
- 2 years ago
- 24
- 0
Made To Do, All DoneChapter 6: Fuel Run free porn video
Claude Rosenthal, aka “Rosie” was hurting. Of the four men who survived to escape the failed raid on the Franklin farm diesel fuel tank, Rosie was the only one wounded.
“How are you coping, Rosie?” Wally, the former brewer and beer distributor asked the former truck driver.
“Hurts like Hell! My arm feels hot when I touch it. I think I got a fever in my arm. Might be an infection starting! Without medical attention, I’m probably going to die slow from an infection! Or lose my arm! It just isn’t fair and it hurts.” Rosie complained.
“Slow down, Dale, and swap to straight electric. Economy speed. Save what fuel we got left and prolong the battery as much as possible! Nobody is chasing us.” Wally ordered the goggled driver.
“As soon as we’ve slowed to economy, I’ll slide back to you, and look at your wound, Rosie. Go ahead and remove your shirt and any equipment you have strapped on.” Wally counseled Rosie.
“Jeff! How much do you reckon that belly armor weighs? No, I really don’t care how many hundreds of pounds. What I mean is, I’m not worried about mines! if we drop that armor, what extra range do you think we’ll get on the batteries?” Wally asked the forth member of his squad.
“We’ll get improved range, boss. Just how much, I have no experience or data to even make a guess. But, some! More. More range.” Jeff wished he knew the answer, but he didn’t.
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we. Start looking around the floor, Jeff. Look for bolts that might be holding that armor on.” Wally started wriggling his way back to Rosie. The cramped, crowded and complicated crew stations in the scout car weren’t designed for shifting positions while moving.
“Scale out on the GPS map, Dale. See where the nearest town or gas station is. Might be something still left in their tanks.” Wally was planning their best chance of survival. A return to the Ranch!
“Okay. Let me look at your wound. This isn’t so bad, Rosie! Your left tricep has a deep furrow it’s length. A bullet graze-burn. You aren’t shot, you’re plowed! Hurts like hell, I bet, but you’ll live! Yes, yes, providing you don’t get infected. Stick a doubled web belt in your mouth and bite on it. Now you get a good hold on that belt with both hands and with your teeth and don’t let go! If we have to anesthetize you, it will have to be a bump on the head! Then your head will ache, too! I’m going to pour alcohol in your grooved arm! So you don’t get that infection! “ Wally assured him.
“Good brave man, Rosie! Now I’m going to bandage your arm. Keeping it clean and so you don’t chafe it.” Wally was wrapping grimacing Rosie’s entire upper arm with multiple passes of gauze.
“We are going back to that Ranch where we delivered those ten loads of beer. They have everything we need there! Okay, Dale where is the nearest town, and what speed are we making?”
“Twelve miles an hour. Two hours left on batteries. There’s a town twenty miles ahead.” Dale said.
John finished filing off the padlock on the underground fuel tanks at the mom and pop grocery where Ron got the light bulbs. Opening the lid, he lit up the interior of the tank by shining down a 110v light bulb trouble light on an extension cord. There was liquid in the bottom of the tank. Probing with an eight foot long 1x2 stick he found in the back room of the store, he measured a bit more than four inches of what smelled to him, like gasoline. Messing around behind the counter inside the store, he discovered the switches and how to turn on the pumps.
Ron showed up and praised John for his smart work. They debated leaving the fuel where it was, or transferring it to portable tanks, if they had any. Since they had no other tanks, the argument was purely academic. Ron wanted to test the pumps and the fuel. In all the houses and buildings they had explored, they had never found a single wooden match or book of paper matches. In extremity, people valued their ability to create fires and left no matches or disposable lighters behind...
John did find an old Zippo lighter, but it had no fuel in it. Ron wanted to try gasoline in the Zippo. He went inside and returned with a plastic waste basket from behind the store’s counter. They ran about a gallon from the pump nozzle into the plastic trashcan. John wouldn’t let Ron touch his Zippo, but followed Ron’s instructions on how to remove the case. They discovered several spare flints buried in the cotton. John installed one, as per Ron’s guidance. Then John dipped the base holding the cotton, about a half inch into the surface of the gasoline and let it soak a minute. Reassembling the Zippo, it lit with a high flame on second try and John dropped it. Ron retrieved it. They were arguing about returning the lighter to John, when they saw the scout car.
They both saw the scout car at the same time, as it was approaching a few blocks away. Ron quickly told John to be his most ornery and act like he was the village idiot with the visitors.
Ron went upstairs to the apartment above the store, with the wastebasket and its gallon plus of gas. Ron stuck his head out the front window and yelled to John.
“Go inside and stay behind the counter. Turn the sign lights on and off and on and off, until they drive up to the pumps. Turn off everything when they drive up. Don’t turn the pump on again until I tell you! I will call you the ‘Mayor’. Call me Ronald McDonald! Can you remember all that?”
“You must think I’m stupid or something!” John was getting mad.
“Good! I want you to be mad when these people try to talk to you. Now, go flick the lights on and off a bunch of times.” Ron kept the instruction simple this time.
John obeyed and got the scout car’s attention. It turned down their street and drove up to the pumps. Everybody but Rosie got out of the car and stood around looking around.
“Anybody here?” yelled Wally.
“Just the Mayor and me!” Yelled Ron from a hidden position at an upstairs window. John hollered YEAH! From inside the store.
“Got any gasoline or diesel?” Wally asked out loud.
“Well, first we have to arrange the trade.” Ron called down.
“Well first I need to know you got fuel to trade for!” Wally was a veteran businessman.
A wire coat hanger, with a roughly hacked rag of sheet hooked on it, flew into the topless car from the upstairs window. “Smell that!” challenged Ron.
The hanger was quickly removed from the car and passed to Wally. The rag was dripping wet with gasoline. “Okay! You got my attention! Can you pump me a hundred gallons?”
“First, tell that bandaged fellow to get out of the car. If I have to fire bomb your car, I don’t want any unnecessary casualties on my conscience.” Ron loudly insisted. Rosie moved with alacrity!
“Hahaha! Since when did YOU start worrying about who you hurt?” John yelled out in derision!
“Well, Mayor. You killed your own father, a preacher! You ain’t one to begin pitching stones!” Ron yelled back. The banter was making Wally and company very nervous!
“He needed killing!” John defended himself.
“Indeed! I agree Mr Mayor. He deserved killing a hundred times over. Never mind! Let’s get back to doing business with these gentle folks. What I am willing to trade for, is your weapons. You give that bandaged fella your guns, and he walks them to the door of the store, and the Mayor takes them. All the bullets you got, too!” Ron named his price.
“Sorry! We can’t agree to that. We need those weapons ourselves in the coming days!” Wally explained.
“Sorry for you for being so ignorant and stupid. Unless you surrender all your weapons, your immediate future looks real toasty. You don’t need to waste time and thought on a tomorrow you won’t see!” Ron threatened.
“Maybe we could deal? One of our rifles and a pistol for the gasoline. “ Wally offered. A cup of liquid thrown from the window, rained on the pavement between the pumps and the store. Then, another coat hanger sailed down, with a burning rag attached to it’s hook. Wally and company ran for the street.
“It was just water this time. Nest time, it will be a bucket of gas thrown on your car!” Ron upped the ante. “Better start your walking wounded walking those guns over to the Mayor! Never mind. Just stay out there by the street. Mayor? Walk out to the car and collect the guns yourself! Quickly!” Ron ordered. Took John three trips running to move everything he found. “Okay! The only guns you still need to surrender are the pistols ya’ll personally carry and that machine gun mounted on the car.”
“Okay! Okay! But I’ll need more than a hundred gallons of gas for all my guns.” Wally saw no alternative but capitulation.
“You can have all you can pump and hold. Any spare jerry cans you got, you can fill them up too! We don’t have any tanks, so you’re limited to whatever you brung with you. Somebody give up his shirt to make a bag for the guns and magazines! Give those pistols in the tied up shirt, to the fella with the bandages. Have him tote em to the door of the store!” Ron demanded. They complied.
“Okay Mayor! You can turn on the pump.!” Ron called down to John.
An hour later, Wally and company drove off with a little over a hundred gallons of gas, twenty gallons of fresh water, two hidden M-16s with full magazines and one hidden 10mm pistol with two mags and an extra box of shells. Wally didn’t want to discuss or consider a fight to retrieve their weapons. He was interested only in pushing on towards the ranch.
He hoped for a friendly welcome, but if they needed to take the Ranch by force, Wally didn’t want that force diminished further by an avoidable fire fight for the bartered weapons. He believed he could trade the knowledge of brewing good beer for refuge. He was counting on it!
“John, Ron, and Ma were ecstatic to have firearms. Ron and John each shot and killed one of the bigger pack leader dogs. They feasted heartily that night!
Back on the farm
Doc hid her growing head hair beneath a wide straw sombrero. When she removed the hat, she looked like a fuzzy dandelion ball. At least, she thought she did. She and Morgan were watching the battle of wills between Bill, the Mammoth donkey, and a three year old Brahman steer. They had been corralled together for the last three days, to allow them to get acquainted and adjust to the other’s presence. Today, Doc clipped the lead from the steers nose ring to the D ring on top Bill’s girt band, for the first time. Bill was a huge donkey 16 hands and 1100 lbs. The steer was about the same size. The lead rope between them was taut, and causing no discomfort to Bill. The steers sensitive nose, at the opposite end of the rope, was the discomfort zone. The Brahman took a step forward to ease the tension, and Bill took a step, taking up the slack and maintaining the tension. Bill was patient. Didn’t jerk on the steer, but never allowed the steer any slack. Sometimes, they stared at each other for half an hour, before the steer would give a little, and Bill claim it back!
“Bill is a real smart ass!” Morgan said.
“That’s MY joke! Think up an original for yourself!” Doc chided him.
“Halloo the house!” hollered a tall man on a big white mule, high stepping up the gravel entrance.
“Out here! Is that YOU Roy?” Doc hollered back from the corral.
“Could I be anybody else?” Roy rode up to the watering trough by the barn, dismounted, unharnessed and hobbled the mule. The mule contentedly began drinking.
Roy unlimbered the garden hose. He added fresh water to the trough. Doc and Morgan walked over and affectionately, vigorously, pumped his hand.
“Good to see you Roy. You look like you been on the trail quite awhile! Bet you’re pretty wore out! Morgan? Inform Ma we have a hungry guest for supper. Then see to Roy’s mount. Please!”
“I wouldn’t want to put your folks out none. But to be honest, if you’re serving anything but dog!
Then, I’d be pleased to sit at your table!” Roy grinned an exhausted grin.
“Had your fill of dogs, recently, Roy? Let’s get you cleaned up! Morgan will tend your mule. There’s a shower bath behind the smithy. Comes in handy instead of tracking smithing dust and grime into the house. Around here, that saves getting your ears abused! Do you have clean clothes? Or want to borrow some?” Doc asked.
“I’m pretty set, except I could use a fresh shirt. Got a tote sack full of soiled,” he untied the sack from the saddle bags and dropped it to the ground. “I’d appreciate if I could wash them. Got clean jeans, socks and jockeys in the saddle bags,”. The saddlebags, he slung over his shoulder and entered the bathhouse.
“Have you been over to my farm lately, per chance?” Roy was in the shower talking loud enough to carry outside.
“I saved what I could save, Roy! Your milk cows all had mastitis. Unfortunately, I had no antibiotics or Chinese herbs to treat them. I put them down, rather than let them suffer. Your beef, I moved into our pastures to mingle in our herd. We can cut them out anytime you want. Brought your hogs over too. Your chickens and ducks, I let out to free range. The buildings appear just as they were left when your family moved off. Any word where they went?” Roy suddenly appeared. Both flinched as, face to face, Doc’s yell at close range embarrassed them. Doc stepped back.
“Sorry.” She apologized. Roy was bare chested and followed her to the clothes line. Swaying in the breeze and soaking up the sun, the nearly dry laundry was easily picked over for the driest of daddy Tom’s shirts. “I’m sure dad won’t mind.” Doc said handing Roy the shirt. Together, they walked to the house, as Roy buttoned and tucked and was soon fully dressed.
“My family has always believed in ‘Head for the Hills!’ in times of trouble. I expect that’s where I’ll find them.” Roy told the Franklins over a fried chicken supper. When Alice brought out a carrot cake with creme icing, Roy declined. “If only I hadn’t eaten that last piece of chicken! Really! I couldn’t!” But, he ate a big slice anyway.”
“Roy recounted his adventures from leaving Eglin Air-force base in Florida, walking as far as Mississippi where he got Daisy, the white jenny, and riding her to the Franklin place in Idaho. The story was neither pretty nor exciting. Mostly about discomfort, hardship, weariness, and worry about obstacles ahead. And concern for his family and farm. He was glad this leg was finished. He still had farther to travel, scouting the hills to find his missing family. He thanked the Franklins for their care of his stock. Apologized for asking they continue awhile longer. Ann, Alma, and baby Susan were fascinated. Roy charmed all three. Baby Susan competed with the seductive flirting and flashing. She was the cutest of the three, and she knew it. She behaved outrageously seductive!
Roy insisted he would sleep comfortably in the barn. There was a bunk room attached, used by occasionally hired help in good times past. Alma and Ann, with baby Susan, occupied a small unplumbed cottage behind the farm house. Doc’s playhouse. Grandpa built it for her, when she was a young girl. Doc kept watch from the porch! Alma and Ann each tried visiting the barn bunk room alone in the night. Doc turned them away! Doc wasn’t jealous or resentful that Roy might be offered the women’s favors. She was protecting her guest’s refuge and rest. He needed the rest.
Clear to Doc, it was Roy’s main reason for stopping by, and the information only of the secondary importance. In the morning, Roy was leaving to search for his family. Doc wished him refreshed and undisturbed. Doc swore he would have the freshest possible start, when he set out.
After a generous country breakfast, with his freshly laundered clothes and a stock of trail foods, Roy was bid a warm farewell. Many hopes for his swift return with his family safe in tow, accompanied him. Ann and Alma were the most sorrowful to see him leave. Immediately after Roy’s departure, Tom renewed efforts to find different homes for the unattached women. Spending several unfruitful hours on the sideband radio with neighbors, made him irritable and in frustration he remarked to Alice, a litter of unwanted kittens would have been easier got rid of!
“Hey Olé.” Doc and Olé were reporting the weekly events in their different theaters.
“Lots to report, Doc!” The rescues of Dan-no, Warren Norman, and chance of a coup and rebellion.
“That is a ton of things to consider, Olé. I don’t want to comment on them now. I promise to give it serious attention. Next week, I’ll give you my thoughts on the coup idea. Of course, if we could reverse time, depose the Empress, and restore the world and people the way it was before she destroyed it, I’d vote for it. The practicality of the plan is, well, I’ll think and tell you next week! Oh, by the way, I recovered your armored transport. It’s here at the farm.” Doc informed him.
“It isn’t MY transport any more. It belongs to Wally the beer distributor, if he still lives.” Olé wasn’t interested in personally removing the transport. “Do anything with it you want to, Doc! Strip it for parts. Make a farm machine out of it. Hell! Use it for target practice! Ain’t mine!”
“You are funny, Olé. Don’t worry, I’m not charging you storage for the transport.” Doc laughed. “Wally still lives, but I buried some of his crew. They tried a raid on our fuel tank, and started shooting to enforce their intent. Killed three, and the rest sped off with Wally in the scout car. That’s when they abandoned the transport. I drove it around behind the barn, but it died short of fuel half way around. Towed it the last bit with the back hoe.” Doc explained. “Dad called the folks on the sideband, and warned them about Wally. Only hot lead welcome parties await everywhere around here, for him and his men!”
“I’m surprised Wally found fuel to keep going this long. Hope he didn’t hurt or kill anybody as the price they paid for his fuel!” Olé hoped.
“Desperate people do desperate things! Morgan’s here.” Doc passed Morgan the sat phone.
“Hi Olé.” Morgan greeted Olé in a cracked voice.
“Hey, Morgan! Is your voice changing, or did you swallow a frog alive?” Olé teased.
“You won’t know me when you next see me, Olé. I have changed a lot, and still changing. Growing. Skeet is training me. Most of the time we talk in infantry signals. Skeet says soon, it will seem like second nature to use and read them. Also, I’m always on point now. Exhausting, but I’m getting accustomed to being full time exhausted. Ha ha!” Morgan concluded.
“Doc knows best. She’s the best brother you could have! Ha ha!” Olé laughed at his own joke.
“Yeah, Olé! I know what you mean. I really don’t think of her as being my sister. More a mentor. A guardian. Almost like an extra parent. Anyway, she’s the best! I’m lucky!” Morgan admitted.
“Bye lil buddy!” Olé was signing off. “Next week same time, Doc!”
“Same time next week, Olé.” Morgan chimed in a goodbye with Docs. “Goodbye Olé!” in unison.
The New Capitol
“Nice to meet you folks. Several sources said we should stop by and see you, that you’re the very best kind of folks. One of the sources was the office of the President.” Slim Chance’s truck was parked in the Franklin’s drive. There was a lot of friendly overtures from all sides. Slim with his crew and young passengers, were being made welcome.
“We just finished rerouting power from thirty six hydroelectric facilities here in Idaho, and three in Washington State. Now, we’re headed for Gothenburg, Nebraska. That is the new national capital.” “New headquarters for the Energy Department and my base office, too. It’s centrally located in the lower forty eight, and has the advantage of it’s own hydroelectric dam there also.” Slim explained.
Stephanie, Stevie and Phil were having a reunion with Alma and Ann, and baby Susan. Baby Susan thought Cappy was fascinating. She enjoyed tugging his beard. Cappy enjoyed baby Susan’s antics.
Ann decided maybe her chances catching an older mature man were better. She wasn’t old, but felt inadequate to compete with younger women for younger men. It was only natural, since Cappy and Susan spent so much time together, that she spent considerable time in their company too.
She didn’t have to act interested in Florida and Cappy’s live aboard boat life style. It WAS interesting, and about as remote from farm life one could get. Getting away from farming was a very attractive inducement, she thought. Everything worked out for Ann and Susan. Cappy did eventually invite them to accompany him to Florida. He was retiring again. Slim let him retire.
Slim was less than pleased about Ann and Susan! The truck was already too crowded. Now add a fussy toddler into the mix? Susan soon won him over, she was a doll. She was cute, flirtatious, and not fussy. Slim was only planning to be in Gothenburg for a few weeks, to a month. Next they were going to be working at the dam in Yellowstone. Very nearby to the Franklins. Cowboy wasn’t needed till then. Slim was setting up the office in Gothenburg. Cowboy opted to wait, since Alma was already giving him some. The Franklins agreed. Slim agreed. It freed up space in the truck!
Doc cajoled daddy Tom into adopting Stevie and Phil. They were already big enough to help with light chores, and training them as hands would pay big dividends in the future as Tom and Alice grew older. The boys agreed happily, but were disappointed Stephanie wouldn’t stay. She was sticking to Slim like a cocklebur. Slim Chance and None were inseparable in her mind! And heart!
When they got into the truck, Cappy, Ann and Susan were in the bunks in the Man-box. Slim was behind the wheel and Stephanie AKA “None” was riding shotgun. She considered that her rightful place for always, at Slim’s side.
“Everybody ready? Nobody needs a drink of water or has to last minute pee? Okay!” Slim started to roll. He was happy to be back on the road and grinned at None. She grinned back. Slim winked at her. None felt her heart leap in her throat. A wink from Slim was better than a kiss!
“Maybe we should make it a double wedding!” suggested Cappy.
“What are you talking about Cappy?” asked Slim.
“I think it’s an excellent idea. It’s obvious to Cappy and me, Stephanie is gone on you, Slim! Just look at her face! She’s glowing!” Ann remarked. “Now she blushes! You’re a cradle robber Slim!”
“I haven’t done a damn thing! Have I, None?” Slim looked to her to defend him. Stephanie wasn’t sure how she should answer. Cappy and Ann were suggesting she and Slim get married. She was too young and Slim didn’t even think of her as a pretty girl, let alone a woman. How could she tip this in the direction she wanted it to fall?
“Well, you aren’t guilty of planning it, but you stole my heart just the same!” She couldn’t breathe!
“NONE!” Slim was shocked! He got real red faced and thin lipped, squint eyed concentrating.
Marisol
- 15.10.2021
- 13
- 0
Fallon rsquo s Ballet Lesson
- 4 years ago
- 178
- 0
Halloween Story Mallory
- 2 years ago
- 38
- 0
