Dan and the Bottle Ch. 24

The paralysis, he was afraid, was permanent.

If the Cubans thought this would demoralize the budding resistance movement, they were sadly mistaken. 'Let's do it for Mike!' became the rallying cry for the Northwest Texas Militia, and many of the local ranchers and farmers that had been on the fence before this were no longer there.... they were pissed off and spoiling for a fight. Mike was well regarded in the area, for his simple, straightforward, no-nonsense manner.

Some were all for just marching into the Cuban camp and killing anything that moved, but it was Mike himself, with Marsh Johnson backing him up, who reined them in. There was no point in charging in headlong and getting a lot of good men killed, after all, and the guerrilla tactics they'd been using up to this point were clearly working. The fact that, in spite of the reinforcements they'd gotten, their compliment was still a good twenty percent short, was stark proof of that.

Mickey arrived home from the new base in North Dakota, where he'd been delivering a flatbed with two Bradleys, just in time for Cassie's birthday. Doris was just finishing spreading the icing on a three-layer cake when he pulled in, the rumble of his old Camaro alerting her to his presence before he hit the door.

She had to scramble a bit, but when he walked in the door, she had a drink sitting on the table for him.

"Hi honey! Have a seat."

"Oh, Lord.... you're an angel, babe." he sighed as he took a seat at the kitchen table. Driving the big diesel truck took a lot out of him.

Taking a small sip from the drink she had waiting for him, he raised an eyebrow. "Something new?"

She spared him a quick glance and nodded.

"Jeff brought it from the bottling plant yesterday. He said it was 'cola'.... mixes well with that rum they've been making at the distillery. I guess they found a whole bunch of recipes in an old notebook at the place and they've been trying them out, one at a time. He brought us two cases of the stuff.... more of that lemon-lime, the cola, and something he called 'root beer'. Said they were working on something called 'orange aid', but so far, that hasn't ended well."

"What time is Cassie getting home?"

"She should be along in another hour or so."

"Ok.... I've got some time to work down in the garden, then."

She almost told him to go to work on her, instead, but considering the night they were going to have, she held her peace for the moment.

In the basement, the indoor garden was flourishing. Most of the space was, of course, taken up by different vegetables and a few dozen strawberry plants, but Mickey stepped past them, heading straight for the area they'd reserved for marijuana. The plants were tiny, compared to what they grew outside; the timers had been shifted to the 'budding' cycle three months ago, and the plants, barely two feet tall, were covered in two and three inch long buds. He looked them over carefully, picking off several dozen of the tiny flower clusters, some of which were so covered in glandular trichome crystals that they appeared to be sugar coated, and placed them in a cheesecloth bag to dry out. He poured out the water he'd been flushing the system with, added another quart of his homebrewed fertilizer into the tank above them, to run through the small tubes feeding the garden, then he grabbed a small basket from the floor and picked half a dozen ripe tomatoes, a handful of peppers, and a smaller basket of strawberries and carried them upstairs, grabbing a small bag of well dried marijuana on the way out, almost as an afterthought.

Upstairs, he found that Cassie had returned, and BJ, Jeff, and Mark and Shandra Culligan had all turned up as well.... Cassie's birthday party, it seemed, was going to get interesting.

He went out to the living room to greet the guests, grabbing his rolling tray and sitting down at the coffee table to roll up a few joints while a Led Zeppelin concert played softly in the background, the band members jumping all over the big TV screen.

As he was breaking up the small buds, Doris pulled the big, 'Chicago-style' deep dish pizza that Jeff and BJ had brought over with them out of the oven, replacing it with a deep dish of her own, and BJ and Cassie played bartender, mixing drinks and passing out several bottles of Cave brewed beer.

Everyone was passing around the latest rumors and gossip, as Doris had just gotten a letter from Jeannine and Caleb, in Kansas. They were now set up on a farm that one of the Cave construction teams had rebuilt, using the Cave as their model.

It seemed that Jeannine was a bit frustrated; she wanted to start having a few 'parties' of her own. Most of her problem, it seemed, was in finding people who were interested in that kind of lifestyle and could keep their mouths shut... the community they'd moved back to was a bit on the strait laced, uptight side.

After dinner, and dessert, the dishes were put in the sink to soak, and the girls came back into the room, settling next to their husbands and boyfriends. Cassie winked over at BJ and idly reached into Jeff's lap, giving his hardening cock a squeeze.

"It's been too long since you guys came over last, honey."

He grinned back at her, sliding his arm over her shoulder and replying "BJ keeps me busy."

Doris, meanwhile, settled into Mark's lap, looking from him to Shandra and back.

"You two haven't come by often enough, either."

Mark grinned at her.... she was squirming all over his lap. He looked over towards his wife and she nodded....

"We've been a bit occupied, getting a room ready."

Now thoroughly confused, Doris looked back at Shandra. "Have you got visitors coming?"

Shandra smiled. "Well.... one. He's going to be staying around for quite a while." She replied, while rubbing her belly.

"Oh My God! No Way!"

Mark nodded. "Doc says about eight months. He said he can't be certain just yet, but we're hopin' for a boy."

"So you have to quit partying for the next eight months."

Shandra nodded. "Doc Snyder told me no smoking, but I can still have a few drinks from time to time... as long as I don't overdo it. He recommended I stick to red wine, juice, and soft drinks, so the baby isn't born with cholesterol that's through the roof."

BJ smiled at that, then caught Mickey's eye, patting the floor next to her. He grinned and stepped over to her, but before he could sit down, she reached up and grabbed his shorts at the waist, pulling them down and almost knocking him to the floor with the unexpected move. The minute they were around his ankles, she grabbed him by the dick and inhaled it.

"Hot Damn, woman! At least let me catch my balance!"

She just smiled around his hard on and started bobbing her head.

That was the catalyst, and soon enough the clothes were flying.

Mark pulled Doris' blouse up and over her head, tossing it aside as he reached for her full tits as Shandra tugged at her shorts. Doris lifted her ass up a bit, letting her old friend pull them off her before reaching out to pull Shandra's t-shirt off, revealing her puffy brown nipples and the fact that her pregnancy was already causing a bit of growth in her already substantial breasts.

Cassie gave Jeff's zipper a tug, then unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop and pulled him over on top of her. He had other ideas, though, and pulled her around to bury his face in her hairless quim, licking all along her nether lips and she smiled widely as she reached for his hard cock, turning the tables on him.

Shandra reached back, stuffing Mark's hardness up her pussy for a few quick strokes before lifting up, reaching back and shifting the head of his shaft to the little rosebud of her ass and slowly settling down on him, taking his hardness up into her rectum and reaching over to pull Doris' face into her well trimmed bush. Doris did her best to keep her tongue firmly planted on Shandra's clit, increasingly difficult as Mark started drilling her backdoor.... but she soon had her chocolate skinned lover moaning at the strange double team she was getting.

Mickey pulled out of BJ's mouth, pulling her around and burying himself in her furry pussy to the hilt in one stroke and was soon fucking into her at almost rabbit-like speed, with her pushing back against him as she moaned out "Oh damn, that's good!:" At that speed, neither could last long, and even as she spasmed and clamped down on his dick, he began shooting ropes of cum deep inside of her.

Doris fingered her own clit as she continued to lap at her old friend's increasingly juicy cunt, until Shandra pushed her back onto her back, pulling her husband along as she dove between the young brunette's thighs, putting her own mouth to work on Doris' prominent clit as her husband continued butt fucking her. Soon Doris was cumming almost nonstop, her thighs clamped firmly to Shandra's ears.

Mark slammed into Shandra's ass a final time, his balls erupting in her bowel, and Shandra came hard herself, clamping down on her husband's hardness and moaning as she trembled at the force of the orgasm that overtook her, accidently biting down on Doris' clit a little, sending the slightly older woman over the edge in a huge orgasm of her own. Her thighs clamped firmly on Shandra's ears, blocking out all sound so the only thing the brown woman could hear were her own moans of pleasure.

Jeff finally could hold back no longer, shooting what felt like a quart of cum down her throat even as Cassie came hard, bathing him in her own juices, soaking his thin goatee and neck with her nectar.

When everybody was sitting back, recovering, Doris shot a look at Mickey, Mark, Jeff, and Shandra, nodding. Mickey grabbed at Cassie, pinning both of her arms behind her, and the four of them maneuvered her to the coffee table, blindfolding her and binding her arms and legs to the coffee table legs before adding a ball gag for good measure. She struggled a bit, not knowing what was going on, but BJ stroked her cheek with one hand, whispering in her ear "Relax, honey.... you're going to enjoy this."

Doris came back out of the kitchen, a large mixing bowl in the crook of one arm, half a dozen paintbrushes in her other hand, passing them out and setting the big bowl of cake icing on Cassie's belly.

Each person there took a brush, dipping it into the bowl, and started painting Cassie's still nude body in thick fudge frosting. Soon she was coated nearly head to toe, the big bowl had been set aside, and her blindfold and gag were removed, and she caught sight of what they'd been smearing all over her body. She moaned in uncontrolled lust as each person took a seat around her and began licking up the treat, driving her over the edge yet again as they licked the creamy calories from her more sensitive parts. Doris claimed her nearly gushing quim, licking away at her far longer than it took to get the thick chocolate cleaned up, while Mickey and Shandra each took over a plump tit.

By the time they were finished, she was more or less clean, and Mark, who was hard again, fed her his own brand of 'chocolate', feeding his hard dick into her mouth even as Jeff settled between her spread legs, parting her nether lips with two fingers and sliding his own cock into her, and was soon pumping away.

Shandra knelt down in front of Mickey and looking back over her shoulder at him. He knew an invitation when he saw one, and got to his knees behind her, slowly sliding into her dripping cunt, soon falling into a rhythm of his own.

BJ looked over to see Doris reaching into an end table drawer, coming up with a mass of straps attached to a large dildo, stepping into them and securing the harness around her waist before approaching the young woman. Stopping in front of her, Doris looked down at the kneeling BJ, saying "You're in the right position.... suck my dick, little girl!"

BJ tried; she really did.... but the fake vinyl cock was huge, nearly fifteen inches long and over three inches wide. She barely managed to get the head into her mouth. Doris grinned down at her for a moment, well aware of her difficulty, and reached down, pushing the younger woman onto her back and sliding between her legs, forcing the first four inches or so into her before she started humping away, getting a bit deeper with each stroke.

She soon had BJ nearly screaming out her pleasure.

Soon the room was reverberating with moans and and grunts of effort and cries of "Oh God fuck me!" Cries of orgasm soon followed, interspersed with deep moans of satisfaction. Shandra soon took Jeff's place, licking up the cum dripping from Cassie's leaking cunt.

BJ grunted, trying hard to relax enough to take the huge vinyl cock Doris was brutally fucking into her. Doris wouldn't let up, though; the other end of the fake dick had a studded stimulater strip that rubbed against her clit with every stroke and soon had her cumming almost non-stop. Her own moans and small cries of ecstasy nearly mirrored BJ's.

Cassie swallowed as fast as she could, but was still nearly overwhelmed by the amount of cum Mark was pumping into her mouth, and some dribbled down her chin.... even as he finished, and pulled away from her, his wife got down on her knees and started licking up the excess, before straddling Cassie's face and squatting down. Cassie saw Mickey's cum dribbling out of the still leaking pussy above her and started vigorously licking it up, using her tongue to dig inside her for more. Shandra came again, hard, as the older woman licked along the length of her nether lips, almost screaming out her approval. She finally had to step away from sheer exhaustion. Doris finally came over and started untying her, whispering in her ear "Happy birthday, honey."

Jeff started looking around for his clothes, citing a full day in the foundry tomorrow casting fresh bullets, and Mark nodded, replying that he was nearly out of .223s and .50 calibers in the reloading shed. The local machine shop had just sent him a small load of small rifle primers and freshly cleaned and trimmed brass, and the chemist had delivered twenty pounds of powder, but without bullets it was basically useless.... and he was down to barely two hundred as it was... perhaps a three hour supply, at the most.

Don Anderson looked over the most recent scouting reports, pleased to see that his own people weren't idle.

Brad McKinnon had led the last squad down to the newest of the Chinese camps, and if his report was accurate, the foreign soldiers would be jumping at their own shadows for some time to come. One of his men had, apparently, taken an incredible risk, sneaking into the camp and stringing tripwires in front of the tent flaps of half the tents in the small camp, wiring them to Claymores and small blocks of C4 and Semtex that were embedded with dozens of nails and screws. Brad's closing note said that the following morning's fireworks had been spectacular.

Don moved on to the next report, which came from one of the scavenging teams. It seemed that the Chinese had caught on to their scrounging at the self-storage buildings, and had gotten into the act themselves. He mentally cringed at the thought; his own people needed those supplies, and the last thing they wanted was the soldiers beating them to the punch. Perhaps it was time to bring the full weight of the Klamath Regional Militia to bear on that camp. Wiping it off the map with several waves of Stealth fighter/bombers was a viable option, especially if they backed that up with a few dozen A10 Warthogs, coming in at treetop level, under the radar.

John Davidson, Jim Fulton, and Big Mike were, once again, headed back to the Cave, the backs of the three trucks filled with tools and foodstuffs they didn't really need. Jim had managed to trade several crossbows and bolts for them for three milk crates full of old Harley parts, but more importantly, all three had notebooks full of fresh intelligence about the surrounding areas.

For the most part, that area was quiet. There was the occaisional incursion by gangs of bandits, but the Chinese had learned to avoid Militia territory like the plague. When the Wyoming Militia started expanding into a new area, the Chinese soldiers would go into a general state of panic. They were poorly trained, poorly equipped, and their morale was at it's lowest point since the start of the war.

The morale of the Americans, in contrast, was well above what it had been a mere two decades ago. They were, after all, fighting for their homes, their country, and their very way of life. The local villagers, who had been largely under the thumb of the Chinese for as long as any of them could remember, swore it would never happen again. They were showing up for training in droves, and taking what they'd learned back to the towns and villages they'd come from, along with truckloads of gear.

Jan Archer sat back in her small apartment, having downsized since her husband had passed away, waiting for JJ, Debbie, and her grandson Bobby to make an appearance. They'd promised to come out for the weekend, and she knew her son.... JJ would rather chew broken glass than disappoint his mother.

It wasn't so much the lack of desire to please her that had kept the three of them in Sturgis since little Bobby had been born, it was merely a question of finding the time. She knew that both JJ and Debbie had a ton of farm chores to do daily, plus short schedules at the new training camp there, training up the local troops. She knew her son and his wife both were accomplished scouts and snipers, and were intent on passing along the knowledge they'd gained in the field.... a fact that made her inordanately proud of the both of them.

Her own schedule, trying to decipher signals from the various satellites that were still up, precluded her taking any time off at the moment. She always seemed to be behind on those.

Chet Quinn stepped back from the old Ford pick up he'd been working on with a deep sigh. This one had been particularly tough.... he'd found it hiding in a garage at a private home, a heavily customized F250 with a 429 big block and a top loader four speed transmission. It had initially caught his eye because of the potential as a scavenging vehicle, and he doubted he'd be disappointed, but scrounging up the correct parts had gotten to be a big pain in the ass.The new clutch and pressure plate alone had taken nearly three months to find, and they had four scavenging teams out constantly, looking for everything from auto parts to food stuffs to guns and ammunition.

He emptied his last five gallons of gas into the new, hand-built gas tank, then reached into the cab, turning on the ignition and giving the electric fuel pump a few minutes to start sucking the fuel into the lines and up to the carburetor, while he grabbed a jug of anti-freeze and started filling the radiator... then stopped, looking from the jug in his hands to the fuel bowl vent on the big Holley as fuel started gushing up from it. He looked back and forth from one to the other before it hit him... the float must be stuck, inside the carburetor.

Stepping around to the driver's side of the cab, he reached in, turning off the key, bringing the gusher to a halt, and decided to call it a day for now. He would let the gas that was all over the engine evaporate overnight. He could deal with the faulty carb in the morning.

Disconnecting the ground cable of the battery, to preclude the possibility of any more accidents, he trudged wearily inside to see what his girlfriend, Tracy, had fixed for dinner.

Don Anderson sat back in his office, waiting for Colonel Truman to get back to him from the militia base fifty miles to the north of Klamath. They'd spoken yesterday about the Chinese base to the south, but Truman had asked for a bit of time to discuss the matter with his training staff, and to get word back from a team he'd sent towards the west coast to check on an old Marine training facility over that way.... he was hoping there was still some salvagable equipment there. If they could come up with a few of those amphibious troop landing craft, they could do an end run around the Chinese, attacking them from more than one direction at once. It would provide a huge advantage, and they could keep the big Chinooks out of reach of the Chinese anti aircraft weapons.