My Wasteland Angel Bk. 01

She is quiet. Very quiet for her. She finally says. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe if you pray God might..." Her voice fades off and she shakes her head. "...but...you're a mutant. Padre Diaz said...I'm sorry...you're not one of God's children. Mutant's can't...I mean...you probably haven't even been baptized." She sighs. This seemed to be upsetting her. I didn't like to see that.

I reach up and stroke her arm with my bandaged hand. She tenses up and closes her eyes, she is frozen in spot. "Please don't." She says quietly. I worry she was going to run away again. I slowly put my arm back down. She opens her eyes and refreshes the cloth to continue. She now cleans my upper chest and the tops of my breasts. The feeling was...arousing. My nipples stiffen. I lean and push back into her touch as much as I could. My eyes focused on hers.

She continues her thorough bath of my bloody grimy body. It is not long before she begins speaking once more, talking about any little thing that comes to her mind. She works down my chest to my sides and my muscular abdomen. The water felt great as it evaporated into the hot dry air. My usually a pale greenish-gray skin looked almost jade in the green tinted light of the shelter. She helps me roll to my side and swiftly cleans my back before helping me back to a face up position once more. She oh so carefully repositions my injured arm into a comfortable position then refreshes the cloth. She leans across and starts to wash my far arm. Once more I loved the feeling of her body leaning over me. I breath deeply trying to catch her scent. I arch my back to push my chest up into her. Just to feel more of her against me.

She stops suddenly. She sits back into a kneeling position, her nervous eyes were focused on the bindings of my good wrist. She had obviously noticed that I was half way to freeing myself. Her eyes are locked on my good arm. I stay very still, I wasn't sure what she was going to do. She takes a long deep breath and swallows hard. Gathering her courage. As suddenly as she had stopped she starts up again, continuing on as if she hadn't seen a thing. She chats and she cleans as I watch her and listen to her.

She had gotten to my waist and it is then she notices my straining erection pressing hard against coarse cloth of my underwear. She stops again and recoils. "Oh! Ohh...oh no! No, no, no. Oh...um...oh...Filth? But, you're a woman..." Her voice trails off.

I watch as her shoulders slump and her head bow. She almost seems to shrink. She whispers. "Of course." I see a little shudder run through her. She takes a trembling breath then straights up again. She is looking at my stomach, conspicuously not making eye contact, and she says. "Okay Filth...um, okay..." She nods. "Okay..." I watch as a tear runs down her sweaty cheek.

She had seen my desire for her and she knew what she had to do. She seemed consigned to it, defeated by it somehow. She would care for me no matter what that entailed. She is looking at my crotch and readying herself for what she had to do. I wanted her, more than anything, but not like this!

I try to raise my hand again. "Gahh...Gahhbeee..." I croak.

She carefully but briskly pushes my arm back down to the ground. "Don't...just...don't touch me..."

She pulls down my underwear and my rock hard member springs free. It stood straight and firm and free such was the state of my arousal. She looks so ashamed as she positions my underwear to a good spot. She takes a moment to clean my rigid shaft and bulbous knob, the wet cloth as gentle and careful as ever in her sure hands. The cloth was cool to my swollen organ. More tears trickle down from her eyes but she had a determined look. Setting the cloth on my hip she takes my cock in a feather touch grip...and she begins to stroke.

Her face looked pained as she focuses on her task, she bit on her bottom lip and tears continued to flow. She says in a tiny vulnerable voice. "Filth...I...I can't keep you like this much longer." She takes another unsteady breath and sniffles. "P...please don't...hurt me. Okay? Do you understand? When you are free. Just...don't hurt me." She frowns, her face betrayed the fact that she thought I would hurt her the moment I got the chance.

She was doing this so I wouldn't hurt her!? Ohhh no! No, this wasn't right. There were few in this world that I would hesitate to hurt if I thought I could get something from it, but Gabriela? No! Never!

I shake my head back and forth. "Gahhb..." I move my hand up again, but all I can do is press it into her side. To her it must look like a clumsy grasp toward her breasts. Her face flinches and twists in loathing and fear as she freezes in place...before she continues stroking once more. She doesn't push my hand away this time. My arm explodes in pain. With a wounded grunt I am forced to lower it once more.

She wasn't even pretending that she could leave me anymore. We both knew that wasn't happening. It was plain to see that she needed my mute companionship every bit as much as I needed her physical care. She didn't want to be alone anymore. So much so that she was willing to risk living with a despicable Orc.

I lay there looking at her delicate features. Her slender graceful neck, the gentle slope of her jawline, her tiny perfect ear. I...I was being overwhelmed by feelings I'd never felt before. I wanted her to continue her slow gentle attention, it felt so nice, yet I also wanted her to stop. It didn't feel right that she felt she had no choice but to do this.

"Gaahhbeee..." I hiss again.

She takes a fortifying breath and gathers herself. Blinking the tears away I see a strength come out in her, a survivor's strength. She nods. "It's okay. You have needs, I understand. Really, I do. I...I used to be married."

Gabriela's small persistent hands worked my entire length. Slow and steady up and down. Her motions are smooth and continuous and graceful, this was no crude and quick handjob. Her tender touch unlike anything I had felt before. This goes on and on. Her baby soft hands gripped one beside the other as she stroked with a persistent rhythm. Her dainty fingers and thumb only able to reach three quarters the way around. I decide to relax and give myself over to the experience since I couldn't stop it. I look at her with the kindest expression I could manage but she refused to look up at my face.

Having gotten over the initial aversion she was now going about her task in a pragmatic yet caring way. She was really putting her focus into this, trying to do her very best to get me off. She strokes long even strokes, her motions getting more bold as her confidence built. It took her a while to really find a good technique. She had obviously been with men but she wasn't exactly experienced either. She notices the extra sighs as she runs her hand over the head, she shifts so that she could stroke the end section more. I groan in approval.

She tilts her head, studying my cock from a different angle. She finally speaks again. "It's so...human looking. Bigger, longer. But...still, so human looking. I didn't expect that. It feels the same too. It's soft and warm. It's easy to forget that you mutants used to be human. Are all Orc women like you?" She looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

I shake my head no. I try to hold her gaze but she immediately looks away again. "You" mutants she said. Did she not realize that she was a mutant too? It didn't seem like it.

"No, I guess they wouldn't be." She clears her throat. "Umm...are you close?"

I shake my head.

She nods. "Okay." She starts to pick up the pace, her fingers gripping just a little bit more. Her arms and shoulder were getting tired but she soldiers on. Stroking me faster and faster until she hits a rapid but steady tempo that she could maintain.

"Mmmmm." I hum, seized by the bliss of her touch.

As I look her over all I could imagine was the beautiful body hidden beneath her baggy clothes. Those small teardrop breasts and her dark wide nipples. I buck and growl as I feel my lust reaching a boiling point. The extension cord creaks as I flex my left arm. I buck again. I groan as if in pain. I wanted to take control but I couldn't, I was still helpless. I had no choice but to let the girl take me to my ecstasy. My own full round breasts jiggle and bounce to my jerky motions. I rest my injured hand on Gabby's hip. I try to grasp onto her. I wanted to touch her so bad.

"Gahhbbeee..." I sigh. How I wanted to hold her in this moment. To feel her mouth on mine. To feel her body held to me. To smell her musk as we made love. To taste her. How I wanted to be inside of her!

My savior, now up on her knees and getting her whole body into the action, with failing weakening arms, goes all out and takes me over the brink.

My hips are thrusting as I let out a rasping sigh. "Huuuuhhhhhhh!" I shoot my seed with such force it arches up over my stomach to splatter across my cheek and neck. Another and another wad erupts up onto my body, coating the area between my breasts with a slimy coat of jizz. Gabby's eyes widen at the potency of my body shaking climax.

"Oh! There's so much. Oh...oh wow!" She marvels. With attentive care she milks me for all I had, her grip rhythmically squeezing up my length to massage it all out. My hot creamy cum is painted all up the center of my body.

I moan weakly as I finally relax. I take my breaths in fast and out slow. The last few pulsing throbs of my orgasm slowly subsiding. When she was sure I was done she gently places my penis down onto my lower stomach. She turns and washes her hands in the water then takes the cloth and cleans me of my mess. Her patient expression not displaying any of the hurt or revulsion she had initially shown when she began.

As she cleans my cheek I am staring up at her. She finally looks me eye to eye once more. I am lost in her all too brief gaze. She blinks and turns away from me. She concentrates on rinsing the washing cloth off once more.

She finishes the rest of my bath in silence.

Part 7:

She had washed me from head to toe, except for the bandaged area that she had cleaned yesterday. She had hit every nook and cranny with that gentle meticulous touch. She had pulled up my underwear after she was done there. It had been some time since I had been this clean. The dust floating in the parched hot air immediately starts settling on me again, but still it felt good for the caked on gore and grime to be gone.

When she finishes she returns the cloth to the bucket. She gets up and drags the bucket to the edge of the shaded area. Keeping her back turned to me she washes herself, though she keeps her clothes on. As I watch her washing in under her clothes I think that she must be very hot in that outfit.

I wished I could tell her that I wouldn't harm her. I wished I could thank her for all she had done for me. I owed everything to her...how could I ever repay a debt like that?

When she is done she stands and looks out over the blindingly bright roasting day lit area in front of the shelter. I could see she wanted to leave but the heat was nearing it's peak. It was unbearable here in the shade, out there would be hell itself. She glances over to the empty bottle, probably regretting not bringing more drinking water with her into the shelter.

She turns back and heads for her pack. She wasn't talking and she was keeping her distance. This wasn't like her. She seemed embarrassed for what she had done with me. She didn't know how to act around me anymore. She begins looking through her pack, seeming to be looking for nothing in particular, as she mutters very quietly to herself. Her back was to me again.

She was stuck in here with me for at least a couple of hours. I wanted to set her mind at ease somehow. An idea strikes me. I knew it would hurt but I force myself to speak regardless. "Gahbee. Booo...k..." I swallow and sneer in pain. "Book." I point toward the pack.

She swivels her head around to look at me. She was surprised. "The book? You really want me to read to you?"

I nod.

She looks at me curiously for a moment until...her smile lights my life once more. It only lasts an instant but I knew what I saw. "Okay Filth." She rustles in the pack and pulls out the old detective novel. She hurries to my side to show it to me. She shows me the faded stained cover, the original art was still visible. It showed a shapely sultry woman in a form fitting red gown holding a small pistol and standing across from her was a dark haired man in a fedora and overcoat. The woman looked ready to shoot the male.

Gabby wipes the cover with her palm despite the fact it was already as clean as it was going to get. "Look at that dress. Can you believe they used to wear clothes like that?" There she was, there was the talkative Gabriela I missed. "I bet it was hard to walk with your legs so tight together. And look at her hair...so nice. It's long, like yours. Maybe I should grow mine out. Long hair is so pretty but...it's so much easier to look after when it's short."

Her fingers run across the picture as she takes in every detail. My eyes were on her. She seemed to take a childlike delight from looking over this picture and she looked all the more lovely for it.

After a time she finally opens it and begins to read. Her voice initially soft and unsure, but soon rising to a lovely steady tenor. She even reads all the stuff at the front of the book, stopping periodically to wonder about this or that. I marvel at her skill and speed as she reads. I was literate, a rarity among raiders, but I still had to sound out words sometimes to make sense of them. She read with such effortless grace that it almost seemed she was making it up as she went. I knew she wasn't as she was showing me the pages, I caught enough to know she was actually saying the words off of the page.

Between my three distractions, the pain, the heat, and her beauty, I am only half able to follow the story. It involved a private detective looking into the murder of an eccentric millionaire. The victim's grieving widow is convinced her husband's brother is to blame. The detective begins looking into things and asking all sorts of questions to all sorts of people. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to me. These people in the book just talked and talked and talked. The detective would talk to this person, then ask a bunch of the same questions to another person, which lead him to anther person. He never seemed to DO anything. He carried a gun yet he never used it. I knew if I was that widow my husband's brother would be drawing his last breath in short order.

Gabby loved it however. She was engrossed by it. She would stop here and there to talk about some story detail or ponder some mysterious old world reference. "What do you think a Palooka is? What a weird word." and such like that. I enjoyed the asides much more than the actual story.

As usual the more she sits beside me and talks the closer and closer she gets. Her nervous incessant rocking starts up again too. By the time the worst of the mid day sun was past she was right against me talking freely and easily again. I was relieved for the awkwardness to be gone between us.

As she finishes a chapter she reluctantly closes the book. "Oh, that was fun. So much left to do though." She looks at me and at last gives me a long genuine proper smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You really look and smell much better now Filth." She puts the book away and goes about getting ready to leave once more.

I let out a pained gasp. "Gahbee..."

She turns to look at me. I look to my bound hand and leg. I pull against the bindings. Then I look back to her. She looked nervous, scared actually. She knew what I wanted.

She swallows hard and nods. She sets out the clothes she had gotten me beside me then gathers up the things she would need before she went out again. She double checks everything and seems satisfied that she was ready to go. She then takes up the canister of pepper spray. She points it straight at my face. "Please don't try anything Filth. Please." She pleads.

I nod.

She hunches down over me, squatting over my legs, and working one handed starts to free my leg. It is a struggle doing it with one hand but she wasn't going to take any extra risks. The pepper spray never wavers from pointing at my face. She glances back and forth between me and the knots she is working against. I lay still, not wanting to spook her. After she frees my leg she takes a deep breath and pauses. She looks me in the eyes, I can see the fear in them. "I saved you Filth. You still need me. Do you understand? You won't make it far with those injuries. Okay?"

I nod again. She was right of course, but the reminder was unnecessary as I had no desire to harm her. And I definitely did not want her to leave.

She goes about freeing my hand. The moment that it is loose enough and I am pulling my hand from the looped cord she springs away from me, spray at the ready. Seeing I am unbound and starting to move she turns and runs from the shelter without another word. Clouds of dust are kicked up by her sprinting feet as she dashes across the clearing in front of the shelter.

I rasp after her fleeing form. "Thaaank..oooo..."

She does not hear me.

Part 8:

Free from my bonds I am finally able to sit up. I turn so I am facing out the open side of the shelter and do my best to find a comfortable place to lean back. My back and shoulders hurt like a bitch from the landing. With my good hand and a better angle I could now take a closer look at my injuries. I don't remove the bandages but I am able to poke and feel around. I realize it could have been so much worse.

I was burnt and my joints sprained and my tissue severely bruised, I was pretty sure there was also a spray of coarse shrapnel that had fanned up my right side when the bomb went off. I had to trust that Gabriela had pulled most of that from me when she tended my injuries. But from what I could tell nothing was broken and there didn't seem to be any deep tissue damage. Assuming I could survive any potential infections or any dangers I may encounter while being so vulnerable I think that I should make a full recovery. There would be scars, no doubt about that, but they would be a badge of honor among my kind of people.

My kind of people...I began to wonder how long Gabriela would stay with me. Would she stick around after I recovered? Fuck. She wasn't cut out for a raider's life. There was no way I'd be able to protect her twenty four hours a day. Also, if she didn't fight she'd be seen as dead weight. I look at the spiked skull tat on my left forearm. The Blood Skulls were done. I had watched at least a dozen of us go down during the ambush, including our leader. There was just me, Blitz, and maybe one or two others tops. As I think of Blitz my thoughts turn dark. I let out a long breath.

I didn't think I could live her life either. Scroungers, while a useful class of people, were the bottom feeders of the Wastes. Hiding, cowering, hiding away little stashes of goodies, scurrying around the sites of recent battles, picking through ruins, always on the move, vulnerable to any number of threats. They were scavengers, cockroaches. It was a coward's life. I could never live like that once I was strong again. Once I got better I either had to leave her to let her live as a scrounger or I had to take her somewhere safe. If there was such a place outside the colonies.

Perhaps she could find a place among the settlers to the Northeast. They were trying to establish farms and build a proper community up there, something more than the chaotic lawless trash towns. They'd become the target of raiders for their efforts but last I knew they were still persevering. It was far away but it might be the best option. I wouldn't fit in but maybe she could build a life there. After what she had done for me...