Quaranteam: Thunder Below Ch. 02

This is an authorized, official spinoff of CorruptingPower's Quaranteam universe. All concepts, characters and ideas are used with permission from the creator.

All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

My sincere thanks to corruptingpower, breakthebar, otterlymindblowing, agathon, and the rest of the writers room for their invaluable help with this work.

Chapter Two

June 10

Norfolk, Virginia

After I tucked Hoshi into bed, snug beneath my old quilt, I stumped downstairs. My balls were empty, but my heart was heavy and my mind was full.

What's happening to me? I was like some feral animal, rutting and thrusting like a half crazed beast. Now, don't get me wrong, I had had some fairly vigorous sex in the past, but nothing like that!

And the feelings, the dirty talk. I've been a practitioner of BDSM for a large portion of my sexually active adult life. Our watchwords were ALWAYS safe, sane, and consensual. There was always a period of learning with a new partner, of testing and finding boundaries, establishing limits. There had been none of that with Hoshi.

All there had been was an overwhelming drive to dominate, to mark, to own the squealing bi- stop!

Even thinking about it was setting my blood on fire. I had to get a handle on this, ASAP.

I slept on the couch, fitfully. My dreams were filled with the visions of some feral beast, tearing its way out of me. Striding the decks of the submarine, hunching over in pain and agony as my skin is ripped apart, my teeth pushed out as they are replaced with slavering fangs. The entire time, surrounded by the moans and screams of the dying. Chief Bowline, my Division Chief, my boss, leering at me with a bloody grin, his eyes shedding tears of blood.

When I woke up the next morning, drenched in sweat, I was still struggling.

I needed my family. I needed to work through this. I wondered if my dad was still alive. Well, only one way to find out.

Resolved, I stepped over to the couch, settling in. I grabbed my phone from the side table and scrolled through my contacts, looking for the one labeled 'Old Man'.

My dad's face smiled at me from the contact photo, a wide, ruddy face, square-jawed, covered by a thick black beard with heavy grey streaks in it. My dad was proud of that beard, he'd been growing it for years. It tumbled halfway down his chest, bushy and wild. He held a corncob pipe clenched in his teeth, and a giant straw hat covered the top of his head.

Dad was shorter than me, stout, almost rotund. More often than not wearing a pair of overalls over a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A man of the land, as he'd say. I hit the call button and waited, my nerves high strung.

After what felt like an eternity, he answered, and I felt a great weight lift off of my shoulders.

"Hey, boy." His drawl was long and slow, drawing the word out to sound like 'bowah'.

"Hey old man." Now, a radioman has to be able to speak clearly over the comms, we are taught to use a newscaster-like enunciation. A lot of the time, people can't really place my accent. But when I talk to my dad... it comes back with a vengeance.

"You're back early, son. Err'thin aight? Thought you said you was gon be away a while longer'n that." I couldn't help the smile creeping across my face. I was just so happy he was alive! So I told him.

"Dad, I'm glad you're alive." He stopped a moment, silent.

"Yeah, well. I got lucky I s'pose. Work laid me off, said they 'us gon reopen once the virus ran its course. That 'us two months ago." I could hear him chewing the end of his pipe, figuring out what to say.

"You been aight, dad?" And there it was again, my own accent back, despite my best efforts.

"Well, I didn't pay the pandemic any mind at first. But I'll shoot it straight with you, it got plumb bad. Seems like most o' the gals in town are widders these days. Poor Katy Nicholson, you know, Kay's daughter? Put her man in the ground, not three months after they wed. She ain't the only one neither."

I knew this man. He'd raised me for twenty years before I 'run off and join' the navy', I'd heard his voice in almost every tone and emotion it was possible to have. He was hiding something. And my stomach fell, because I had a pretty good idea what it was.

"Who'd we lose, dad?" I asked, in a quiet, half strangled voice. What happened next broke me. In twenty years, I'd never seen the man cry. Never seen him break, never seen him vulnerable. My dad crumbled, sobbing in deep, soul tearing gasps.

"Everyone. We lost damn near everyone." He went on to explain, but I was half numb and fought to pay attention. Tears ran freely down my own face, my fists were clenched so bad my hands were white.

Granny Hart had been a devout Christian all our lives. I'll freely admit, I'd let my faith fall to the wayside a long time ago. An invisible man in the sky who sees everything, knows everything, and cares about the insignificant things that happen to each one of us on this spinning rock? Go on, pull the other one. But watching Granny growing up, I wanted to believe.

Granny always said her faith brought her comfort in uncomfortable times. So when people started dying, and in droves no less, Granny went to church to pray. The churches had refused to close, saying that people needed God even more now. That they needed the comfort of God's grace.

The church had acted as a super spreader. Everyone who went caught the virus. Dad had been spared by the simple and random expedient of having gone hunting. When he came out of the woods two weeks later, the entire Hart clan had been either dead or dying. Granny, my aunts, uncles, cousins, my brother, my sister, my sisters-in-law, my niece and nephew, all gone.

Dad and I sat for a long time, as together as we could be, sharing our grief as best we could. I wished so badly that I could go home. It was ironic. I had joined up with the military for adventure and excitement, to serve my country and earn honor and respect. I'd picked the navy in particular out of wanderlust and the desire to see the world. I'd volunteered for submarine service because it was a vital mission, a hard job that needed to be done. Yet sometimes, hell, most of the time, all I could think about was home.

"Dad, I wish I could come home." I sniffled. "Even if I were able to take leave, with the virus, and everything that's happened, they won't let me go. There's some really bad things that've happened. And I can't talk about any of it. I won't be able to come home for a long time."

"I know it. I wish you 'us here too. It's just us now, boy. But I thank God every day that I still got you. You're doin' good work, son. Needed work. And what do us Harts say about work?" He asked the same question he had asked me for 29 years, his greatest and most important lesson.

"When there's shit to do, Harts do shit." I answered by rote. "I know, Dad. I know. But I ain't gonna lie, I could use a hug from the ole man, somethin' fierce. Some of the things I'm gonna hav'ta do, I don't think you'd approve of. This virus is... gonna change a lot of things. Things I don't think you'd be proud of."

"Son, I will ALWAYS be proud of you. Out of all of us, you chose your own path. I loved your brother, and your sister, even if she was a damn lesbian. They stayed home and tended the farm and the stills, and there's honor in that. But you went off, and even though I sometimes wonder what you 'us runnin' from or what you 'us lookin' for, you made your own way. You left here a boy and came back a man." I could hear the smile in his voice, and I sniffed back tears and snot. "There ain't nothin' in this world tha'd make me see you as any less. I may be jus' an ole country moonshiner, but I do know that much."

"I love you Dad."

"Love you too, son. Now you go an' do whate'er it is you gotta do. And hold your head up high. You're a Hart. And what do we say about Harts?"

I smiled through the tears. Couldn't help it, Dad's pep talks always cheered me up. "A Hart is only born with two things in this world, his balls and his word, and he breaks 'em for no man."

"Tha's right." Then he said the same words he said every time I called. "Always remember boy, you gotta home here, and you gotta family that loves you. Y'all take care now, y'hear?"

"Yessir. I will."

"Goodbye, son."

"Bye, Dad." And then he hung up.

****************************

June 18 2020

Norfolk, Virginia

Over the week that passed since I spoke to my dad, things settled into a routine. Hoshi had woken up a few hours after my 'Hart to Hart' with my dad, and I'll admit, things were a little awkward at first. I think both of us were a little shocked at how things had played out during, what I learned to call, her imprinting.

Normally, Hoshi was a fairly reserved girl, the typical 'quiet one'. A little shy, loved to read, loved to cuddle on the couch. She did tend to get, as she said it, 'a little genki' when she got nervous, but she had confided in me that she was usually not so aggressive sexually as she had been that night.

She was 24, had graduated from Wofford College in Spartanburg South Carolina, with a degree in linguistics. And up until she was matched to me, she had served on the USS Enterprise, CVN 65. I smirked when I found that out, I am a die hard Star Trek fan, and anyone who knows me knew that about me. But she took my ribbing good-naturedly, laughing with me about it, which just endeared her to me even more.

But for all that she was a shy girl, she was also driven to succeed. She had hit the deck running when she reported aboard, throwing herself into her qualifications and her work. She told me she had qualified surface and air warfare in just over a year, which was impressive. For contrast, it takes a sailor 12 months to qualify fish, or as a skimmer would call it, submarine warfare. It had taken me six months, and I had sacrificed sleep and meals to do it.

I was happy to be partnered with someone so driven, because it meant we'd be able to push each other to newer heights. Her dream was to captain her own ship one day, whereas mine had always been to be a COB.

Chief of the Boat, or COB, was the submarine equivalent of a CMC, or Command Master Chief, the senior enlisted sailor at a ship or command. The COB's job was to take care of the crew, and maintain the ship. Officers worried about mission, and tactics, and ship command, and yeah, COB worried about mission too. But his primary focus was the well-being and discipline of the crew. That was my dream, and it seems it had come true years earlier than I was ready for.

But that week passed in a blur of what I'd call the 'honeymoon' phase mixed with first date jitters. We were getting to know each other while at the same time getting used to living with each other. And screwing like minks.

Every morning, as I took a shower, she'd slip in with me and give me a blowjob that left my knees knocking. The sight of those exotic eyes staring up at me while my cock disappeared into her impishly smiling lips became a fixture of my daydreams. Then, when she'd finished me, and she'd recovered from her own chemical orgasm, she'd swallow, stand up, rinse off, then prance out of the shower like a gazelle.

By the time I got out, toweled off, and got downstairs, there'd be a hearty breakfast waiting on the table, with a coyly smiling Hoshi standing next to my chair, waiting for me to sit. Once I started eating, she would sit and then start on her own meal.

It wasn't something I had ever laid down, or insisted upon, but I'll admit, I could get used to it. Usually breakfast was a Jimmy Dean sausage, egg, and cheese croissant, nuked in the microwave, on my way out the door.

After breakfast, we'd sit and talk, watch TV, and clean the house. She, like me, was an avid Pokémon fan, and she had brought her handhelds with her, so we'd sometimes battle each other. We'd break for a light lunch, then she'd usually mount me on the couch for a quickie.

Her quickies were much like her imprinting, hard, fast, and deliciously dirty. I'd grown used to the constant scratch marks on my back, and she'd occasionally play slap me over a new hickey or finger-shaped bruise on her glorious ass. One time I left a bite mark on her left asscheek that didn't fade for days, and she playfully scolded me about it until it did.

We'd lay on the couch, recovering, then talk about books we'd read, books we were reading, then we'd cuddle and read on our kindles. I was about halfway through the latest Blake Conrad novel, she was rereading the Harry Potter series. Yeah, yeah, I know. It had been out for a while. Submarine crews underway are completely cut off from everything while underway. News, sports, culture, all of it is completely silent until we get back. Then we all have to play catchup. We'd take Luna for a walk, masked up and our skin covered.

Afternoons, we'd pick a movie to watch, fooling around under a blanket like a couple of horny teenagers. We'd let the tension build as we cooked a meal together, eating at the table. The minute the food was gone, she'd quietly take my hand, lead me upstairs, and we'd make slow, languorous love in the moonlight.

Most nights, she'd wake me up, stroking me to stiffness before she'd ride me, or have me mount her. These midnight fuckings were very much like the first time, raw, primal, animalistic. She'd have me pull her hair and smack her ass, call her my bitch, and my good girl and a million other things designed to drive me wild. That buttplug hadn't been a fluke either, that first night after her imprinting, she'd had me bugger her until she screamed like a cat in heat. Post coitus, we'd cuddle and she'd whisper in my ear about how she loved being my three-hole slut.

But like all good things, it eventually came to an end. The morning of the 18th, I got a phone call while Hoshi was blowing me on the couch.

My phone rang, Star Wars' 'Imperial March', and I groaned. "Hoshi." I patted her shoulder, trying to get her to stop. "Hoshi!"

She sat up, letting me pull from her mouth with a loud pop. "Yes, daddy?"

"Professional face on, baby girl, admiral's calling." She huffed and stood up, a cute pout on her face.

"Fine... hand me that blanket." Passing her the aforementioned blanket, she wrapped it around her bare breasts as I hit the call accept button.

"Lieutenant Hoshi Sato and Petty Officer Hart, on the line. What can we do for you ma'am?"

"Ah! Team Hart, very good. Didn't interrupt anything, did I?" She said with a ribald laugh.

"Er... Um no, no you didn't. Why?" That woman always made me a little uncomfortable. Someone old enough to be my mother shouldn't be able to tease me as much as she seemed to.

"Good news! We've taken your suggestions to 'Hart', and towed the USS Albany into drydock in Hampton Ingalls Shipyard in Newport News. She's sitting pretty on blocks, all systems shut down. You asked for a training platform, now you've got one. Lieutenant?"

Hoshi leaned in, nervously. "Y-yes ma'am?"

"Congratulations, Sato, you've been given command. You are hereby ordered to man the ship and bring it to life. You have six months to train a crew up and make them mission-ready. Petty Officer Hart, you've been appointed as ship's COB, as you already know. We're relying on you, as the sole Submarine Warfare Qualified sailor on the crew, to give us the benefit of your experience and training."

Hoshi and I looked at each other in surprise, and no small amount of excitement. Things were finally picking up!

"Now, that being said, you're being sent two new teammates today, and another two next week. Once you've got a six-man team, you'll be covered enough that we'll be comfortable letting you back on base to take command. Until then, we've got bio-hazard teams disinfecting every square inch of every submarine on the waterfront. We've got a slate of missions that need to be done yesterday, so you'll need to hit the ground running."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Hoshi replied. I was still in shock. I mean, yeah, I knew there'd be more women. Eventually. I was still getting used to Hoshi, now I had two more coming?

"Very good. You have your orders. I'll start drawing up a crew roster. Stay healthy, stay sane. You are needed." The phone clicked off, and the call ended. Dramatic old broad. Should've been a stage actress.

All thought was driven from my head about the same time that all breath was driven from my lungs. I looked up to an aggressively horny Hoshi, writhing and grinding her naked core against my lower abdomen. "Hoshi?"

"Mmmmmmm!" She squealed, growing hotter and wetter.

"Hoshi? You ok? Command makes you that horny huh?" She reached behind her, grabbing my hardening length in her hand, stroking me as she ground against me.

"Nope." She said, popping her lips. "You're about to get two more undoubtedly sexy little cunts to break in."

"And that gets you hot?" She nodded her head, squeaking and groaning, her chest flushing red with lust.

"I want to watch you bend them to your will. I want to watch you press their faces to the floor and break them open on this fat. Throbbing. Cock." She squeezed me with each word. "I want you to blast your seed deep inside them. I want to watch you breed them, make them yours and only yours. And then, when they belong to you, I want to eat the creampie from their destroyed little slits while you make me yours again." She leaned in close, moaning in my ears. "Make them call you daddy too."

She exploded, drenching my belly and lap in her juices. I was so hard that my cock stood like the Washington monument, and my blood fired up. I was just about to pick the little slut up only to pin her to the couch and do my level best to breed her pregnant, when we heard a knock on the door.

We both groaned in frustration as we hurriedly stood. I hitched my shorts back up over my hips as Hoshi wrapped the blanket back around herself.

I stumbled to the door, fumbling at the knob before I finally flung it open. "Yeah? Yeah I'm right here."

Two sailors in type 3 Navy Working Uniforms stood in my doorway, both giving me raised eyebrows. Both were small, short, and well-formed. High, firm curves hidden below the baggy and shapeless uniforms. One had long dirty blond hair coiled into a bun at the back of her head, the other wore a mouse brown bob cut. "Nice to see your first pairing is going well, eh, Petty Officer?"

"Erm... have we met?" I glanced from one to the other, trying to place the faces.

"MA2 Cindy-Lu Hatfield." The blonde said with a smirk. MA's, or Master-at-Arms, were the Navy's military police. No big surprise that they'd been sent to do this.

"MA2 Mary-Ellen McCoy, at your service. We've brought your next two partners. And your last one"

I couldn't hide the snort as I heard their names.

"The Navy seriously sent a Hatfield and a McCoy to drop off new partners? Together?" I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. "Wait. Wait. Wait. And you were the ones giving me shit about hillbilly names? And this whole time I'm being ribbed by a Kentucky backwoods girl and a West Virginia coal miner's daughter? Oh, this is RICH!"

The glares I got could have frozen hell over. "Are you done yet?"

With great effort, I got my chuckles under control. Hoshi was staring at me quizzically the whole time. "I'll explain later, darlin'. Go get dressed and we'll all have a chat."

She nodded at me with a smile, before exaggeratedly swaying her hips as she walked past me. The little minx. I gave her ass a hard swat, and she jumped. Scurrying away with a squeak and a low moan, her face bright red, she gave me a look that screamed 'fuck me', then hurried upstairs.

Handing me the by-now ubiquitous clipboard, Cindy-Lu huffed at me. "Getting back on track, yes. These are your new partners."

She and Mary-Ellen stepped apart, revealing two absolute bombshells stuffed into navy uniforms, their luggage in a pile behind them. The first, a tall black woman, held her hand out, and I shifted the clipboard to offer my own.

"MMA2 Berniece Beauchamps, and this is my wife." Her voice was a smoky contralto that sent frissons of sparks down my spine. Her Creole French accent immediately made my heart start beating faster.

"ITR1 Chet Hart. Pleasure to meet you. Wait, wife?" My brain finally kicked into gear, and I could think again.

"TM2 Claudette Beauchamps. A pleasure as well." The second woman stepped forth, offering her own hand for a shake. She was slightly shorter than her wife, milk pale, with curly black hair pulled back into a bun.

"A pleasure. It would seem we have a lot to talk about." Inside, I was reeling.

My sister had been gay, and I had been one of the first to support her in the family, if not the first. Granted, that acceptance and support had only come after I had been in the Navy a while. It had been an adjustment, putting my life in the hands of people I had been raised to think of as sinners. Even after I had left my faith behind, old prejudices are hard to drop. But I had spent eight hours a day, seven days a week, for months at a time, locked in radio with an ITE, an electronic surveillance measures specialist, who had been unapologetically gay.

For hours every day, with nothing else to do as we stood our watch together, we had spoken of anything and everything under the sun, and he had become one of my best friends. Eduardo Martinez, a good man. I challenge anyone to think of anyone as a sinner when you've spent that much time together.

In any case, I now had to figure out how to incorporate a married lesbian couple into my new team. I waved them in, signing my blocks on the forms before passing them to the women. Claudette handed the clipboard back to the MA's.

"Have fun y'all!" Mary-Ellen chirped as I closed the door.

The three of us went to the couch, Berniece and Claudette sitting primly next to each other, opposite me. I wrung my hands nervously, trying to figure out how to address the elephant in the room. Hoshi flounced down the stairs, flopping onto the couch next to me, wrapping her arms around one of mine.

"So these are the new girls, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. Shit, sorry. Berniece, Claudette, this is my first partner, Hoshi Sato. Hoshi, this is Berniece and Claudette Beauchamps. They're uh, they're married."

The two spouses shared a bemused look, then turned to me, Berniece clearing her throat pointedly. "Look, white boy, first. Call me Bernie. Second, yes. We are gay. We are married. We know what this vaccine requires." She sat back as her wife leaned forward.

"Yes, we do. And we've discussed this. So. Here's what's going to happen. You are going to take the both of us upstairs. You are going to strip us naked. And you are going to attempt your level best to break our pelvises. Your little submissive toy can even watch." To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. As I struggled to find something to say, Bernie leaned forward again.

"We decided that if we have to fuck a man in our lives, to stay alive, that we would FUCK a man in our lives, to stay alive. We are aware that we could do this any myriad number of ways, each more clinical than the last, but let's be real, white boy. You've wanted to fuck us since the second you saw us. Am I wrong?" My brain caught, and I was suddenly back in my wheelhouse again.

"No." The word came out as a low growl, and I could visibly see both women shift a little in their seats. "You are very much not wrong." I could feel Hoshi starting to breathe harder next to me. I could feel that beast inside me, waking up, rearing its head. With an effort, I tamped down on it long enough to speak one more time. "I have only two more things to ask."

The two bombshell lesbians shared a glance before Claudette spoke. "The first?"

"Are you sure? Once done, this is permanent."

A smirk graced Claudette's delicate features. "Yes, we're sure."

"When."

Bernie spoke this time. "When? When what?"

"When do you want this?"

Bernie stood suddenly, undoing the buttons of her Navy Working Uniform blouse, her brown eyes locked on mine. "If you think you're ready, now. White boy."

Her voice had an obvious huskiness to it, she was as eager as I was. Claudette stood, also beginning to strip herself, and we made our way upstairs, a blur of lips and tongues and groping hands. I pulled away long enough to speak.

"Hoshi, put Luna in her crate, then get your sexy little ass upstairs."

"Yes, Daddy!"

I grinned as I growled, snapping my teeth at her. Then turned my attention to the two newest sluts to fall into my life. "You two."

"Y-yes, sir?" They asked in unison.

"Get upstairs. Get those clothes off. Get on the bed. Oh, and girls?"

They were both breathing heavily. "Y-yes?"

"Hold onto something." The two gulped as they ran upstairs, articles of clothing falling as they went. I took a few moments, gulping air in deep breaths, trying desperately to calm myself. I was in control. I was in control dammit! I am a human being, not a beast. But the smell of wet cunt pervading the house drew all thoughts out of my head. With a snarl, I surged up the stairs, Hoshi hot on my heels.

As I burst into the room, the sight that met my eyes stopped me short. Both ladies were sprawled on my bed, Bernie on the left, Claudette on the right. Bernie's left and Claudette's right legs were intertwined, and they held hands as they looked across the room at me in apprehension and excitement.

The contrasts between them excited me. Bernie's skin was dark, with clear muscle definition on her abs that undoubtedly meant she was just as fit everywhere. I couldn't see much more muscle, however, due to the massive double d's on her chest and the round, firm cheeks of her ass.

Claudette was milk pale, as I've already said, and her body was softer. Smaller c cups, graced with wine-dark nipples, currently stabbing the air, they were so hard, stood high and proud on her narrow chest. Both girls had thick thatches of fine, silky pubic hair, and I was inexorably drawn to Bernie.

Leaning in, I took a long, steady sniff of her scent, and the heady musk shot straight to my cock. I absently noticed Hoshi pulling my shorts off, and I stepped out of them as I leaned in closer, giving Bernie a long, slow lick from perineum to clitoris. She moaned, grabbing my ears before she yanked my head up.

"None of that white boy. You can eat it later. Now, now is the time for you to break it." I surged up her body, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand as I brought my cock to bear on her weeping slit.

Splitting her lips with the blunt tip, her long legs wrapped around my waist in a vice grip. I palmed a massive mahogany mammary, squeezing it in an iron grip.

Bernie moaned and writhed beneath me, pressing her tit into my hand. "YES! Yes, yes, yes, fuck me!" She began tilting her hips up, inviting me in, enticing me to take what belonged to me. I obliged her, plunging into her to the balls with one hard thrust. She was exquisite! Like sinking into some exotic oil, a velvet grip around the root of my existence, rippling and pulling. And tight! Like she'd never had cock before in her life and I was carving her open for the first time.

I pulled out, then brutally plunged in again, and her wide hips swirled and swiveled about me as she moaned for more. I brought my knees up beside her glorious ass, hooking my hands under her shoulders. Claudette rolled over to face us, cupping Bernie's face in her hand as she frigged herself with the other.

My leverage set, I began a brutal pace, slamming her hips into the mattress as her tits jiggled and shook against my chest. Every couple of thrusts, her nipples would flick my nipple rings, driving a frisson of sparks across my chest. She clenched beneath me as the priming orgasm hit, and she shook her head back and forth as she caught her breath.

I stopped, holding still to let her adjust. "Bernie. Look at Claudette." She turned her head, fuzzily locking gazes with her wife. "Do you see her?" She nodded, unable to speak. "You're her wife." She nodded again as I drew back out of her. "But you're MY bitch!"

I slammed back inside her as she screamed my name to the heavens. "Please! Please! I'll be so good for you! I'll be a good little lezzie bitch for you just please please please let me cum! Please, white boy! Pleaseohpleaseohplease oh Gawd, white daddy!"

I was lost to my lust, my entire existence reduced to slamming my cock in and out of the tight wet pussy impaled beneath me, but I could still hear Hoshi in the background. "Uh oh! She called him daddy!"

Claudette turned to look at her. "Why, what does that mean?"

"It means he's going to want to make her a mommy!"

Bernie moaned at that last, her hips started popping backward and forward, wringing and wrenching the end of my cock. I could feel the end coming, the molten fire swelling from the top of my head and the tips of my toes, converging on the central pillar of my cock like a lightning rod. I gripped Bernie's hips as I slammed home one last time, spewing my soul into the fiery furnace of her core.

As with Hoshi, the second my seed hit her walls, she came like a tidal wave, her legs flying from around my waist, her heels and the back of her head diving into the mattress as her body bowed upwards. I was almost thrown off, but I forced myself deeper, unwilling to let a single spermatozoan be wasted. After so many ropes that I lost count, she fell back on the bed, limp as a noodle, while I sat up, my lungs heaving like a bellows. I could barely hear her Creole-accented voice chanting.

"Imprinting... imprinting... imprinting..."

I looked over at Claudette. Her eyes were wide, her delectable tits heaving with her heavy breaths. "Your turn."

"Y-yes sir!" She sighed breathily. I grabbed her hips, swinging her ass towards me. And by god what an ass! Perfectly spherical cheeks held high on her body, the top and bottom forming a visible shelf. I smacked it, letting it wobble for a short period.

"Mother fucker!" I gasped, in awe of the generous moon rising above my bed. Bringing my cock with it.

"Fuck me like you fucked Bernie, and you will be, big guy." She pressed her face into the mattress, arching her back and pressing her ass against my hands. I moved them up her cheeks, sliding them across her back until I latched onto her hips. Steering that dump truck booty, I gave her no warning as I speared her pussy with my still slick cock.

She screamed and writhed as the residual sperm drove her into her priming orgasm. Unlike Bernie, I didn't let her rest, immediately setting a driving pace, her ass clapping against me as I began to reshape her insides. Curly black hair tossed and turned as she endured my onslaught, gripping the bedsheets as I forced myself as deep as I could go. "Your wife gave herself to me. You watched her do it."

"Y-yes! You m-m-made her your b-b-bitch! Blasted your cu-hum inside her!" She wailed, shaking her ass back on me.

"Are you my bitch too? You gonna be my good girl? My breeding slut?"

"Oh god! Please! Please let me cum! Let me cum and I'll do anything you want!"

"You're going to WADDLE around my house, naked and pregnant! And when you give birth to my brat, I'm going to do it again! And again! And again!"

"Pleeeeeeease!" She was openly sobbing now, desperate for release. She clamped down on me, hard, and I lost it. For the second time in less than an hour, I spewed molten fire into a squealing woman. She slumped to the mattress, stiff as a board and shaking like an electrocution victim. After long minutes, she went limp, chanting that creepy word over and over again.

I stood up, my legs shaking, breathing like a marathon runner, before I slowly started to roll the fucked out couple into the recovery position for the night. I took a moment to admire the sight of all that ripe flesh, before I covered them with a blanket.

I looked to the corner of the room, where Hoshi was sitting splayed on the floor, three fingers shoved up her tight quim.

Could I go again? I looked down at my still-hard cock, twitching in the air. "Hoshi!"

"Uh-huh?" She asked, blissed out and fogged with lust.

"Get your tiny ass over here."

End chapter 2