Idle Hands and Wet Panties Ch. 01-04

Chapter 1

"Hey, do you have time to talk about the election?" I heard a very soft, playful voice address me from behind in the outside patio of the cafe.

"Sure, why not? I just got stood up... after taking a long break from the dating scene. Mind you, things are a bit on the crazy side these days. Might as well enjoy what's left of normalcy while it's left. We just barely get to reopen in this area... and then this happens... in one of the few restaurants to survive the lockdown. This other business... it's not helping, to put it mildly," I grimaced.

"Fair enough... and that's what I mean... I'm hungry... I'll pay for my own meal," the young lady assured me as she sat down with me.

"That's good. One never knows anymore. Many people are just so strapped for cash these days, even after the last election. It's... just... well, you know how it is. Let's just say that I don't have much optimism that this election will make a huge difference," I ranted rather candidly.

"Are you a Republican, a Democrat, or an independent? By the way, I'm Becca Barber," she introduced herself formally and rather politely as she inquired of me.

"Wait... who are you with?" I demanded.

"Williams for Governor," she answered honestly now, much to my relief... I hated people with hidden agendas.

"L. Alton Williams. The Democratic candidate for Governor of Virginia. Fits. You're talking about this odd-year gubernatorial election, then," I clarified.

"Precisely," she smiled awkwardly.

"Frank Stein. No relation to Jill," I cut the tension with some humor.

"Jewish?" Becca wondered.

"Reform and secular, but yes," I grinned as we ordered our meals and she got her drink.

"A.M.E myself," Becca informed, "not very pious, though. I go on Christmas and Easter, things like that."

"African Methodist Episcopal, right?" I referred to the full name of the predominantly black Christian denomination.

"Exactly," Becca acknowledged, "Dad was a Black Muslim, though. It made the marriage tough for Mom and the divorce only a matter of time."

"Are you a registered Democrat?" I asked her now.

"Yes, indeed. I worked for the Virginia Democratic Party for a time and also for the Warren campaign. I switched to Sanders briefly after she dropped out," Becca explained with a wink.

"Well, I'm an independent who likes guns, single-payer health care, gay rights, abortion rights, UBI, and hates war. I'm not woke. I don't like the war on drugs. I don't like the Patriot Act. I think that both parties are corrupt and unlikely to act on the environment fast enough. I think that the obsession with Russia is idiocy and that both parties are busy sucking up to the damn defense contractors. We still haven't bounced back from the pandemic, have we? A year after the last election, we're still muddling along toward a sluggish recovery," I continued my tirade.

"So, a bit of a populist... but a left-wing, progressive type. I don't recall seeing you anywhere around Warren or Sanders, though," Becca commented over her Samuel Adams, a common preference in beer.

"I officially bolted the party after the primaries, though I ended up voting for Biden, anyway. Not out of any great love for the guy. I had to really talk myself into it. Much of it because I felt that Trump botched the pandemic in ways that could kill millions. That and Social Security and the little bit of good that Biden might do to stall climate change, which ain't much," I was very frank now.

"Touche... I had no fondness for Biden and his... questionable past and 'boys' club' bipartisan crap. I had a feeling that we were wooing the wrong kind of Republicans and independents. But that's done and done, right? Who did you vote for in the primaries?" Becca probed.

"Tulsi Gabbard. And I don't regret that for a New York minute. She was the right kind of leader, of commander-in-chief. One who only uses force when it's vital to do so. Wages only just wars. Most of our wars have been unjust in my lifetime, if you ask me," I elaborated my reasons for backing the maverick Hawaii Congresswoman.

"Well, I had my doubts about her, but the UBI business... that would have been very useful, and both she and Yang supported it before Harris or Romney did. What would be your attitude about Congressman Williams? He would be the first openly gay Governor in Virginia history, I might add," Becca noted.

"He's gonna win. Virginia is a safe blue state now. Jennifer Murtaugh doesn't stand a chance. She's trying to be another Cuccinelli, you know. And the economy is in rotten shape, but I doubt that Northam will get the blame, or Williams, for that matter," I observed while the waitress brought our dinner at last.

"Vegetarian, eh? Is it any good?" Becca wondered now.

"Yep. It's a matter of personal conscience, but relax. I don't drive a Prius," I winked at Becca, who laughed at that joke about cliches.

"Not a soy-boy, then?" she teased me.

"No, that's vegans. I still eat dairy and eggs. And lots of pintos. Soy is just part of the diet," I retorted, "as for Williams, I like his stance on most issues. At least he's to the left of Northam. I don't think that the working poor can take much more of that trash, even if it's mostly the Feds at fault. A bit more bread and butter, a bit less wokeness and gun control. He's moving in the right, or should I say the left, direction?"

That was when I heard it. A loud noise, an explosion, a car being destroyed by a bomb detonated close enough that I instinctively ducked and pulled Becca down with me. What the fuck, I thought. Seconds later, I heard gunfire... automatic gunfire. Holy smokes, I thought. What just happened?

I wasn't armed, of course, so I stayed down, as did Becca for the moment. I looked over and saw that the waitress fell to her knees and prayed in a foreign language. I didn't know her religion, but I understood her sentiment, of course. The gunfire continued for six more minutes, by my estimate, until a dozen people were slain and a couple dozen more were badly injured.

A firefight commenced and we watched anxiously as the local Sheriff's Department called in SWAT. It was uglier and more destructive than anything expected. The terrorists proved to be armed with even heavier ordnance than I would have guessed. This included Molotov cocktails, hand grenades, smoke grenades, RPGs, fully automatic AK-47s, M-16s, and Galil rifles, Uzis, Tommy guns, etc. We didn't know it then... but it was a full-on insurgency at work.

"Let's take this to go... and you, come with me, okay?" I paid up quickly and invited the waitress to join us as we fled the cafe with doggy bags full of food that we barely touched.

I wasn't about to stick around and witness whatever this assault was in person... not if it meant my death... and those of my two companions. We'd have to hole up and wait it out... hopefully not for too long. I still had groceries to buy, after all.

"Is it just me... was that...?" Becca asked, having pissed her pants... then again, so had I.

Our companion hadn't... but she was more accustomed to it.

"We see that a lot in Syria. A lot more since the invasions. I'm Taslima Daud. From Aleppo," she explained.

"Frank Stein and this is Becca Barber. Welcome back to Hell, I guess," I shook my head as I changed and got ready to shower.

I wasn't about to stay filthy. Especially not around two exquisitely beautiful women. I had no idea how much my life was irrevocably changed... yet. I also didn't mention that my brother served as a pilot for El Al. That might not go down well with a Syrian refugee, understandably, of course. I didn't want to spoil what was possibly a brief, if life-changing encounter with Taslima over a matter of geopolitics.

As it turned out, my brother being an Israeli pilot was the least of my problems. Or theirs. And Becca would soon have bigger fish to fry than the Virginia governor's race.

Chapter 2

"Oh, I feel human again!" I laughed as I showered, only to have the curtain pulled back and a very naked Becca join me.

"Well, that's one way of putting it!" she told me, "I need to be clean again, I know that. Pissing my panties ain't exactly my idea of a great date."

"Yes, I imagine that was as awkward for you as it was for me. What's Taslima doing, by the way?" I asked Becca, who winked.

"Reheating the meal to split three ways, of course! Thankfully, there's nothing that we ordered that was forbidden her, though she's hungry enough that I doubt that it would stop her right now," Becca smiled now as she began washing me without invitation, prompting me to lather her up, too.

"I suppose that any 'Me, Too,' concerns also went out the window when you stripped and joined me under the jets," I teased her now.

"Oh, honey... I decided to fuck you long before this shower," Becca told me with an ardent French kiss.

"That fast... I doubt that is your norm, especially in the wake of coronavirus. That's rather flattering," I remarked.

"Yeah, that tends to sadly put a damper on the whole slutty fun thing," Becca teased me as she caressed my cock and knelt to kiss it.

"Were you all that slutty back then?" I asked her with some skepticism...

While I would have approved of promiscuity myself, I knew that mine was a minority view. To be frank, someone with a father in the Nation of Islam was likely to have at least some hang-ups. It would be a lot of baggage, far more than a Reform Jew would have, probably closer to what a Mormon would have. I was just glad that she hadn't apparently absorbed her father's quite likely anti-Semitism. It wasn't exactly a secret how Louis Farrakhan and his outfit felt about Jews like me. She must have taken more after her Methodist mother... and we in the Faith had been very active in the civil rights movement, hadn't we?

"Meh, depends on my mood. Little secret about women. Most of us have our slutty moments and prudish ones. You just have to know when to catch us if you want some booty. It varies not only from one girl to the next, but one month to the next as well. Just sayin'. Though some girls are wilder than others. I'd call myself rather less behaved than my sisters. My elder sister went Catholic and became a nun! The other one's a parson's wife. So... yeah, I'm the hellcat," Becca gave me a look that made it clear that she wasn't kidding.

"Oh, my, what a Thanksgiving meal that must be! Big sister is an actual sister and the other one's probably practicing her organ work, if the stereotypes are true. Or else preparing a Sunday School lesson plan. And probably the same questions about marriage that I get at home from my folks. Especially from my mother. I don't know too much about your mom, but mine fits the classic Jewish mother trope to a tee. And she really, really, wants to be a proper Jewish grandma, too!" I chuckled while Becca started sucking my cock in earnest.

"Yes, well, Mom's hypersensitive about the divorce, especially since Kathy's church condemns it and it's not exactly something that most Christians approve, anyway. Of course, she never wed again, so there is that, but yeah, she's touchy about that. She's also eager to get me married off to someone like 'Parson Bob,' as she likes to call her son-in-law behind his back. She likes him, even if she thinks him a bit pussywhipped. She's not wrong about that, either. Which is exactly the wrong sort of man for me," Becca stopped sucking me long enough to explain.

"Not into the milquetoast men?" I probed while fucking her pretty face for what it was worth.

Becca quit sucking me again, just long enough to shake her head, "Ugh. Gross. Get me a guy with some balls! I don't care if he's black or white or brown or whatever... just give him a fucking backbone!"

I laughed again while she stood up and bent over to present me with her two ready, wet, and hot openings. I grabbed the water-based lube that I kept in the shower (just in case) and slid into Becca from the back, feeling a bit nervous because it was bareback. Then again, we'd survived coronavirus. Next to that, what was a little herpes or whatever? Hell, at this rate, I might get shot tomorrow with the rising tide of political violence. At least freestyle sex brought some pleasure to the mix. I just hoped that if I knocked her up, the world improved in the meantime.

I was balls deep inside Becca before I knew it and she pushed back at me with full vigor, eager to take as much of my dick into her body as she could achieve. I stared down at that lovely pair of dark buttocks and that fantastic browneye of hers with undeniable lust and appreciation as I humped her. I enjoyed grabbing her wide hips and controlling the pace and tempo of our romp.

I kissed the back of her neck while we fucked, my teeth even playfully biting her flesh a little. I didn't break the skin or draw blood. I just introduced a mild amount of pleasurable pain that I could sense her masochistic side craved. Becca's twat felt wonderfully warm, of course, so welcoming to my prick as I slammed into her from behind and invaded her depths. Well, well, I thought, she does have a slutty side... and I was very pleased to meet that version of Becca for sure.

"I wonder how long we'll be stuck here, holed up before things calm down," Becca mused, "I hope that we can at least use it to seduce sweet Taslima into a threesome. What do you think? Bear in mind that I'm bi... and I'd love a taste of that fine Syrian ass!"

"Same here... I'm glad that I'm not the only deviant here! Great minds think alike... or kinky ones in our case!" I laughed while bottoming out inside this ebony sex goddess.

"What's the difference? Kinky sounds pretty great to me! Besides, we owe her, don't we? We owe her the best sex that she could ever imagine! And it will help us bond, which would help if we're gonna be stuck together for a long time!" Becca replied saucily as I drilled her harder on the next stroke.

"Guys, what's taking so long?" Taslima surprised even herself by walking in on us, finding us naked and busy in the act of shower sex.

"Oh... and to think... I kinda hoped," she looked a little crestfallen, but Becca lept into action.

"Hey, we can share! He's a fine-ass man and we don't know how long we'll be stuck here with him! No sense in either of us hoarding him! Now, take off those clothes... and let's see if we can squeeze three people into this shower!" Becca told her, "by the way... I like girls, too!"

The kiss that Becca planted on Taslima... and the enthusiastic response, well, let's just say that one thing led to another. Before I knew it, we were busy washing our Syrian lover down and I found my cock slipping into her wonderful snatch for several strokes of that. While I pounded the sultry Arab waitress, Becca parted her cheeks and introduced Taslima to rimming.

From the way that Taslima reacted to Becca's tongue back there, as well as my cock, it was clear that whatever sexual experience she had in her past had not prepared her for that. She came so forcefully that she squeezed all of the contents from my balls and caused me to leave a nice, thick creampie in her delightfully wet and silky gash. I brushed her buns lightly with my hands to fondle her one last time as we slipped out of the shower to dry off.

Then, surprising ourselves with the level of intimacy that we felt in that moment, we took full advantage of the wideness of my hallway to hold hands walking toward the kitchen.

In the nude, of course.

For the moment, at least, we could bask in the beauty and glory of our new love affair, even as the world crashed and burned around us. The outside could be crazy as fuck, but we three souls, each of us belonging to a different race, found solace in sex, booze, great food, and a growing affection for each other. There were certainly worse ways to pass the time at the fall of the Republic.

And it was indeed the beginning of the end for the Union.

Chapter 3

We were finally ready to turn on the TV as we ate, and sure enough, it was pandemonium out there. Just a few blocks away, a full-on street battle had commenced, with the local authorities more than a little overwhelmed now. Whoever these asshats were that ruined my dinner date (though it turned out for the best for me and my ladies at least), they weren't ready to give up without a fight. Even the news reporters felt a bit terrified, especially since they were just local news crews, not embedded war correspondents. What the hell was actually going on?

The sight of so many cops and deputies being gunned down by these insurgents was more than a little unnerving. It reminded me of that damn Chuck Norris movie, Invasion USA, where Soviet sponsored foreign terrorists begin attacking civilians in everyday, suburban neighborhoods. In this certain part of Virginia... this could get very chilling for a lot of the population, to put it rather mildly. I was no Chuck Norris, though hardly a coward. I was just in no mood to get caught in the crossfire between the Sheriff's Department, state troopers, etc. and this dangerous rogue militia or whatever it was.

"Bloodthirsty bastards, whoever they are, wouldn't you say?" I snorted while drinking my Samuel Adams and eating my supper.

"To attack total strangers and now cops, yeah, I'd say so," Becca groused, "I'm no fan of a lot of cops, at least the kind who stop me for being black in a cul-de-sac, but still... I don't think that they deserve to be mowed down with machine gun fire."

"It's just like how it was in Syria... when ISIS emerged... they claimed to be liberators from Assad, but my father was no fool. He knew who they were. Bloody executioners, working for the Crown Prince, Netanyahu, and Erdogan, all because Assad turned down the pipeline that both men wanted so badly to go through Syria. People in the West... they don't get it.

"The guns that ISIS used... they came from America, Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, and Israel... they were guns from the West. The West armed ISIS and then stayed to fight the very same people they had armed," Taslima broke down as she related her own anecdotes of life in a war-torn Syria that the West had wrecked.

"But why? I always heard that ISIS and Assad were both bad guys and that the 'moderate rebels' were fighting for freedom in Syria," Becca related what she knew.

"That's the lie that they told you, babe. It's not your fault or mine. That's what the CIA wanted you to believe, so, of course, that's what the press told you. That smarmy bastard, Evan fucking McMullin, the Mormon spook in Utah, his whole job was to recruit ISIS and Al Qaeda/Al Nusrah to topple Assad.

"Yes, Assad is a dictator. So was Saddam Hussein, and is Iraq really better off since he was toppled? Qaddafi wasn't going to win a Nobel Peace Prize, either, but is Libya better now that it has open-air slave markets in Benghazi and Tripoli? Yes, Qaddafi and Assad... and Saddam were friends with Putin. Duh! That's no excuse to invade a sovereign nation and destabilize a relatively stable and prosperous country," I explained my objection.

"But... the chemical weapons!" Becca objected.

"Saddam used those, too. Bad motherfucker, no doubt of that. But again, is Iraq better off now? Is Syria? Is Libya? Is Afghanistan? We should have wasted bin Laden and his confederates and then bailed, not stuck around in the graveyard of empires. Surgical strikes. Get in. Get out. Not this nation-building crap. If the British and Soviets couldn't conquer the Afghans, how could we? It wasn't like the Northern Alliance was any prize, either. And Karzai proved to be such a crook, too," I shook my head.

"It's okay, sweetie... like he said, you didn't know. When the President of the United States, Barack Obama, stands up and tells you that Assad needs to go, you're going to agree with him, unless you have reasons to disagree. When the press and media tell you that Assad is a war criminal and enemy of the United States, you don't see it otherwise.