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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ye Olde Pickup Place 9/9 {Thinking Horndog}(ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom)
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Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2012 22:10:06 -0400
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A Swarm Cycle Story.  Conclusion.
<1st attachment, "Ye_Olde_Pickup_9.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Ye Olde Pickup Place
Part: 9 of 9
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: Some unguarded words at a favorite watering hole lead to some long-
term relationships.

Keywords: ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom

Ye Olde Pickup Place

Chapter 9

Ronald:
        "Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for any inconvenience this may
cause, but this is a pickup..."  I turned my head to regard the hulking
bastard whose urbane tones had nonetheless filled the room -- through
amplification, no doubt.  "Those of you who are sponsor-class and have an
interest in volunteering, would you please make your way to the bar?  Those
of you who are colleagues on active duty and would like to avoid seeing a
circus you can't go to can meet Corporal Wiggins at the side door and he'll
let you out.  Everyone else may continue to eat undisturbed for now; however,
it has been detected that several of you are armed.  We would appreciate it
if you would present your weapons to the private making the rounds.
Obviously, if you should decide to use your weapon, there will be some
unpleasantness..."

        I drew my pistol slowly, cleared it, and even partially disassembled
it in order to avoid having some jackass come get it before the Marine
working his way through the room.  Any question regarding whether we were all
under surveillance or not was answered when some jackass made to whip his
weapon out and ZAP!  A bolt of something came from a small device hovering
unnoticed just below the ceiling.  They'd OBVIOUSLY turned out with some
remotely operated drones...

        The private came to me and said, "You can keep that if you like, Sir,
but..."  He shrugged.

        "I'll get better, right?" I replied.

        "Yes, Sir."

        "Fine."  I stood and stuck out my hand to Chet.  "It's been a
pleasure."  I turned and did the same for Pete.  "Jackson?"  I beckoned him.

        Jackson licked his lips.  "Are you sure you don't want to..."

        "We have to pick a third," I told him.

        Chet had to snipe.  "Whatcha been doing, Jackson?  Sucking Ron's
dick?"

        I turned to Chet.  "Thanks for living down to expectation, Chet.
That makes this easier.  Sorry, Pete -- I only need one back door man."  Pete
just nodded; he was married, and the wife wasn't present.

        Stupid to the last, Chet made an ass of himself, rasping, "I KNEW it!
All this time you were jerking our chains and you had it all..."  He was just
warming up for a good rant when the private shrugged and shot him with the
same kind of weapon that the drone used.

        There was one other bit of excitement.  There was WAY too much
silverware present, and some asshole picked up a knife and stabbed a sponsor
as he went by his booth.  Fortunately, he got the guy on the hip and it was
merely painful.  As for the attacker, he lasted about a quarter of a second
after that; three bolts and a bullet -- maybe from my .45, since the private
fired it -- put him away.  There were a few screams, but a couple of Marines
hustled the other occupants of the booth out of the room.  Later, I was told
that they went to interrogation to see what they knew about local Earth First
activities -- and two of the three were released.

        There were nine of us in the bar.  The Sergeant running things took
in Jackson and said, "Pre-pack?"

        "Three out of four," I nodded.  "My girls are waitresses here."

        The sergeant nodded.  "We've been holding the wait staff in the
kitchen, but we're about to release everybody who wants to play for the
circus.  Go get them."  He pointed the way and I headed for the kitchen to
pick up my girls.

        The private watching the kitchen knew what was going on -- he waved
Jackson and me past him.  Various males and females were standing there,
wringing their hands.  I stood in the door and looked around for a moment,
picking mine out.  "Come on, girls -- we're leaving."

        "Ron!  Omigod!  I'd hoped, but we've been held in here..." Beatrice
babbled.  She and Bridgette broke from the crowd.

        "Well, that's over, I think," I replied.  The private nodded.  "Come
on -- I need to pick a fourth.  Any recommendations?"  I had to stop at that
point because I had a couple of women trying to squeeze me to death!  The
private thumbed us out of there and began briefing the rest of the kitchen
and wait staff while I chivvied the girls out.

        Back in the bar with my trio, the sergeant brought us up to date.
"We're clearing one of the dining rooms.  We're gonna want you guys to put in
an appearance in the main room while the girls make up their minds whether
they want to play or not, but we'll do test drives out of sight of most of
the customers after that.  Any questions?"  We all murmured to the effect
that there were none and we wandered, escorted, into the main room.  Jackson
held the girls in the door, since they wouldn't be needed immediately.

        The sergeant stepped out in front of us and said, "Ladies, the bar is
now open.  You can continue what you're doing or you can pass through into
the other dining room where these gents will be conducting interviews."  He
waved at us.  "If you aren't interested in participating, please continue
your meals -- we're going to attempt to keep some kind of flow going from the
kitchen."

        I thought about releasing Beatrice and Bridgette to wait tables
temporarily, but decided that I might want their input.  There was a rustle
and some arguments, but women began flowing past us into the bar and beyond.

        My attention was collected by a basso rumble of, "Jemma, if you go in
there, you better not come back out!"  I looked over to see a black woman I'd
seen several times before hopping from foot to foot and wringing her hands.
The voice came from her husband, apparently, a hulking brute displaying every
indication of a vicious temperament.  Two kids sat watching the tableaux,
wide-eyed.  The woman, visibly fearful, abruptly sat.  "I'm gonna kick your
ass for getting..." the man began.

        ZAP!  A private appeared next to the man and shot him with one of
those weapons at point-blank range, and the man collapsed.

        "There will be no threats or coercion here!" the sergeant declared.
"Men, if you don't want to know whether Momma went off to get selected, we
can put you to sleep and she can tell you anything you want to hear when you
wake up, if she's still here -- it's your call.  If we see you communicating
a threat, you'll take a nap!  Ladies, if this seems to be a concern, don't
hesitate to raise your hands!"  There were no more disturbances.  The private
held a quiet conversation with the woman and she got up and slinked through
the door to the bar, joining the flow.  After a moment, the sergeant clearly
detailed a couple of privates to keep order in the dining room, and we
withdrew.

        I collected my trio, murmuring, "Hang close -- I may need some
advice."  We filtered back through the bar and into the dining room, where
there were clearly ten women for every sponsor.  They were every age, size,
shape, and color, too.  Beatrice took a look around and said, "Ron, maybe you
should dump us and pick up something else..."  I turned to look at her and
discovered Bridgette next to her, nodding and biting her lip.

        I don't know why, but it pissed me the fuck off!  I spun and waved a
finger under Beatrice's nose and said, "YOU shut the fuck up!  Get naked,
both of you!  If I wanted your opinion on whether you ought to be here or
not, I'd have asked for it!  Just to make things clear, though, are you gonna
go with me and be my concubine?  Here is where you say, 'Yes, Ron!' and that
ends it!"

        "Yes, Ron!" Beatrice blurted.  I turned my glare on Bridgette and she
nodded.  "Uh huh!"

        My anger already having bled away, I lifted my eyes to Jackson.
"Well?"

        "You want me -- I'm comin'!"

        "Keep these two out of trouble," I told him.  "Hang onto your
undershorts until they tell us you have to toss 'em."  I stopped the girls
and collected each by a cheek and kissed them.  "I LOVE you two idiots -- why
would I want to toss you for some skank I don't even know?"

        Beatrice made to come forward, blubbering, but Bridgette threw out an
arm to bar her.  "I want to hug you to death, but you've got business," she
said, nodding at the other women, most of whom were rapidly disrobing.

        "If you have any opinions, let me have them when I bring back a
candidate," I told them, and moved forward to get a look at the catch.

        Sylvie broke from the crowd and came forward to kneel before me.  As
she reached out to open my fly, I caught her hand.  "Sorry, Hon.  Try someone
else.  My opinion of you hasn't changed and I don't see us getting along."
She took it like a slap in the face, but she backed off and went looking
elsewhere.  I looked back at the girls as they knelt there, and they both
nodded, approving of my position.  Bridgette got this look on her face and
waved, so I went back to her.

        "Do you have any problems with black women, Ron?" Bridgette asked.
"That Jemma -- I've waited their table a bunch of times and her old man is a
real bastard.  She's not going to get a whole lot of attention in this
crowd..."

        Bridgette was right about that last; Jemma was in her thirties
somewhere and plain in the face and a little bigger than Bridgette.  There
were plenty of teens and college girls and even soccer moms present who had
her outgunned.  She was hanging back, wringing her hands, looking around
while other women swarmed the sponsor group -- I was still outside the
boiling mass around the other eight, who were more or less arranged in a
circle.  Every one of them had a mouth on his cock at this point -- and two
more waiting with their mouths open like little birds looking for a worm from
Daddy.

        I circled the clusterfuck, collecting a bow-wave of second-stringers
trying to get my attention.  Jemma's big draw was the noise made in the other
dining room, but it was reason enough in my mind to give her a chance; I
ignored the urgent tugs on my arms and clothing and importuning voices and
parked myself in front of the woman.  Glancing around at the others, I said,
"Blowjobs won't cut it -- I need to see CAP cards.  Get 'em out."  Turning my
attention to Jemma, I added, "I need to see yours."

        It was there in her hand -- she offered it gingerly.  "Seems like you
were in some trouble in the other room," I noted as I clipped the card reader
I'd been issued over it.

        "Lester... He don't mean nothing by it -- he's just hard, that's
all."  The scores said she was one helluva mother and loved her sex -- and
that she was used to bending the neck.  She wasn't stupid by any stretch, but
she'd had a hard life -- and expected no better than she got.  I'd take that
over the entitled-looking little well-manicured blonde bitch tugging my left
arm...

        "Go away, Honey," I told the blonde, "I want a woman, not a
department store mannequin."  She took off, bawling.  I beckoned Jemma
forward and collected her chin in my hand, turning her face back and forth.
"So how many times has Lester slapped the shit out of you, anyway?  Dozens,
from the looks of things..."  Part of the plainness of her features was
clearly the marks of her husband's abuse.  There were other things, too --
faint scars on her breasts and ribs and limbs...  "Don't lie -- I know you
want to, out of loyalty, but I can SEE it, just like you can when you put on
make-up."

        "Lester don't take no shit..."

        "No, I guess not," I agreed.  "So why don't you show me your blowjob?
I don't think I want to give you back to Lester -- why don't you give me a
reason not to?"

        Jemma went to her knees and shouldered aside a redhead and a brunette
who had worked as a team to get my pants undone and tugged down over my cock
to grip it at the root and eye it.  "You got a NICE one, Mister!" she
declared, then gave it a single lollipop lick before wrapping her lips around
it.  She whirled her tongue around the tip a couple of times, and then
started bobbing, going deeper every time until the fourth or fifth had me
bumping the opening of her throat.  She rode it that way about six times --
and I was about to wave her off with a good grade, anyway -- when she dropped
her head and extended her neck and took the rest, burying her nose in my
pubes and swallowing around my glans.  Jemma was every bit the expert that
Bridgette was, obviously!  She was happy to have me there, too, obviously --
her eyes said so as she looked up at me!  She proceeded to show me that she
could take me every stroke that way if that was what I wanted, too!

        I grabbed her shoulder and backed her off, grunting, "Obviously,
Lester trained you well..."

        "Uh huh."  Jemma gazed up at me, nodding agreement.

        "I suppose you're a pretty good fuck..."

        "I think so.  Lester says so..."  She paused, and I realized there
was more there, but she'd stopped herself.

        "What else?"

        "Nobody ever complained..." she murmured, looking away.

        There was some woman trying to give me a rim job; I spread my stance
and let her work, but that didn't mean I was promising anything.  Some other
chick was worming under to lick my balls, but Jemma hung onto my cock.  I
ignored it all, generally, to guess, "There's a story here, right?"

        Jemma bit her lip.  "Lester, well, sometimes things get tight, you
know?  Something will happen and he'll be out of work..."

        I translated this as 'He acts up and gets fired...'  "And he puts you
on the street to earn a few bucks?"

        "The kids have to eat..."  Jemma hung her head.

        "So, twenty dollar blowjobs?" I asked gently.

        "Ain't no money in that," Jemma replied.  "Parties, mostly.  Lester's
got some friends who know people..."

        "So you're a gang-bang girl?"

        "Yeah."  She let go of my cock.  "Sorry."  Some brunette immediately
dove on it.

        "One of mine has done it all -- with black guys -- and has a kid to
show for it," I replied, "Nothing wrong with being a party girl -- it
broadens your horizons.  You do anal?"

        Jemma looked back up at me, "Uh huh!"

        "Like it?"

        "Yeah."

        "Show me that ass."  Jemma rolled over on all fours and lowered her
chest to the floor -- I watched her wince and figured the floor was cold.
She gazed up at me over her shoulder.  It was a good-sized ass, of course...
The pussy on display below it looked inviting.  "Is it much work to get in
there?" I asked.

        "Not a whole lot -- I do it regular.  Lester likes it sometimes --
and a couple of his friends do."

        I batted some heads away and moved forward.  "Plug me in," I told the
thirty-something soccer mom holding onto my shaft.  She pressed my cock up
against Jemma's anus and I think she was disappointed that it didn't hurt the
black woman more.  "Probably sloppy!" she spat.

        "I know how to open and close it," Jemma retorted.  "I bet YOU
don't!"

        "Slut!" the woman spat.

        I turned to her.  "You sound like you think that's a BAD thing!"  I
cocked my head.  "So, is your asshole educated?  Can you compete?"

        "I bet I'm tighter than she is!" the woman retorted.  "Besides,
she's..."

        "Big?" I guessed.  "Black?"

        "Yeah, both!"

        "Neither of those things is a problem, Honey," I told her.  "Run
along."  The woman grimaced and backed out of there.

        I pumped a little in Jemma's ass, reflectively, not serious about it.
I didn't try to bury my meat.  When I pulled out, some woman had collected a
blouse and wiped my cock with it.  Jemma spun around and grabbed my hand.
"No good?"

        "No, it was fine -- I'm just not going nuts on it.  No time."  I
turned to look back at the girls, who were watching intently.

        Jemma took this as evidence that the interview was over -- and she
wasn't the only one.  Some husky chick with mouse-brown hair started trying
to swallow my dick, in spite of where it had been and what it probably tasted
like.  Jemma tugged on my hand and gazed up at me with big, scared eyes.
"Please, Mister -- Lester is likely to set me up with a street gang for this!
I got two little girls!  Abby, she's young but she's ready already --
Lester..."

        I froze.  "Your husband fucked your daughter?"

        "I was out -- working," Jemma related.  "He just started on her
recently.  He figures it's more money..."

        Now, the rules had changed on this, but I figured the girl was too
young.  "Can she come with us?" I confirmed.

        "Yes."

        That pretty much clinched things.  "Come on..." I tugged her by the
wrist.  There were a lot of disappointed noises, but the crowd generally
dropped away.  There were still a couple of hangers-on, but most tried to
join other queues.  I got back to my trio and asked Jackson, "Do you have any
objection to black pussy?"

        Jackson shrugged and popped his eyes.  "It's all pink on the inside,
isn't it?"

        "Why don't you check?" I replied.  Turning to Jemma, I asked, "Do you
eat pussy?"

        "Uh huh."  Jemma nodded.

        "Bridgette, give her something to lick and let me know what you
think.  Jackson, she says she's a party girl and anything goes.  Thus far, I
haven't been able to prove otherwise.  She's got an abusive husband who is
pimping her out and two little girls, one of whom already knows the facts of
life.  You guys have a few minutes to come back to me and tell me if she's a
good fit for the family.  Go!"  After a second or two of blinking, Bridgette
dropped on her back on the floor, cursing because it was cold.  Jemma went to
her hands and knees and stuck her face in Bridgette's twat and Jackson
dropped his undershorts and knelt up behind her.

        "Didn't you do her ass?" he asked.

        "Just enough to see if I could get in it, not enough to see if she
can get off," I replied.  "Her numbers say she enjoys it, but try her twat
first."

        "What are you gonna do?" Beatrice asked.

        "Look for a backup, in case she fails.  You're with me."  Beatrice
nodded and stepped up.

        The sergeant was eyeing me.  "I was looking for an excuse to get her
clear," he grunted.  "The AI says her old man has been jailed a couple of
times based upon domestic disturbances where she was roughed up -- but she
does the usual battered wife thing, bullshitting the cops about falling down
stairs.  No idea regarding her other claims, but that's probably enough..."
He raised a hand, frowning, then added, "They ran a rape kit on her one time
and found DNA from five different guys.  The DA walked away from that one..."

        I nodded.  "But it proves something or other..."

        "Yeah..."  The sergeant was visibly elsewhere for a moment.  "Pick
another if you want -- and take them both.  I've squared it with the AI based
upon the idea that she and her little girls are in danger."  He sighed.
"Early on, we had no luck with such things, but the AIs have learned that
when we want to bend the rules, it's usually a good idea."

        I just nodded and turned to wade out into the mess.  Looking back, I
could tell that Jemma was giving her all; Bridgette's face was a rictus while
she held the black woman's face against her cunt and Jackson was long-
stroking and gave me the high sign.  I didn't see any reason to stop
things...

        I didn't draw any immediate attention -- things were pretty focused
on the circle jerk.  I was looking around, thinking about pulling some woman
out of a queue when Beatrice tugged my arm and directed my attention at a
young woman loitering near a booth but looking our way, apparently torn...

        There was nothing amazing about this chick -- in fact, she was about
the most average woman I'd ever seen.  I looked her over as we went over to
where she stood hopping from foot to foot.  She had mouse-brown hair, pulled
back in a bun, and a plain, somewhat oily face with a weak chin and otherwise
small features.  Her body wasn't as nice as Jemma's, even -- smaller, but not
as well-presented.  She had a big ass and a belly and the fact that her hands
and feet were relatively thin tended to make the stuff in between look larger
and more grotesque.  The thing was, there are just a lot of nondescript-
looking girls out there that look just like that -- you see them everywhere.
What was the draw with this one, aside from the look on her face?  I couldn't
tell immediately.  Beatrice and Bridgette were big girls, but they were big
all over and thick where they should be thick to match their sizes.  This
chick was big in the ass and had a noticeable belly roll and serious jugs
that hung a bit and... dripped?

        Was that milk?  It was!  Glancing around, I realized why the woman
hadn't left the booth -- there was a baby bundled up there!  "A kid, huh?
Are you married, Honey?  How old is it?" I asked.  She wasn't sporting a
ring...

        "Just two months," the girl replied, pink with embarrassment.  "No,
I'm not married.  I'm living at home.  I, well, I made a mistake."

        "Why are you here?"

        "My folks went out and I haven't been anywhere in a month -- and he's
quiet, generally..."

        "Just trying to hang out with the human race, then?"

        She nodded.  "It's lonely at home and my folks aren't happy with
me..."  She looked up at Beatrice and said, "Can I?"  Beatrice gave her a nod
and she dropped to her knees and started lipping my cock.  My pants were over
by Jackson and Jemma and Bridgette; I'd carried them back from Jemma's brief
tryout and left them there.

        She was nobody's expert -- but she was committed.  I reached down and
collected a breast heavy with milk and the nipple dripped onto my hand.
"You're pretty loaded up," I murmured.  "What's your name?"

        She backed off to answer, "Eileen.  It's getting close to feeding
time."  She went back to sucking.

        "What do you want, Eileen?" I asked.

        She popped back off.  "I want to go.  I want him to go.  I want to be
wanted."  She grimaced.  "I know I'm a blob, but you seem to like big girls.
I want..."  She ran down, but the look in her eyes finished for her.  This
chick wanted to be loved -- BAD!  Undoubtedly, that had been the source of
her little mistake...

        "So you met a boy and he said he loved you..." I guessed.

        "He loved to fuck me -- but I thought it was something else."  Eileen
nodded, dropping her head and looking away.

        "That happens.  Can I see your card?"

        Her purse was on the bench -- I had it in hand in moments.  The
scores were pretty good -- and I was dead right.  Those eyes of hers didn't
lie.  I turned to Beatrice, "Bea?"

        "I think you should fuck her," Beatrice opined.  "You don't want a
pig in a poke."  She turned to Eileen, "No offense."

        "I understand."  Eileen nodded.

        The table, I think," I decided.  "On your back, I guess.  I'll
stand."  I turned to Beatrice.  "You're in charge of, um..."

        "Tim," Eileen supplied, settling herself on the table.

        "...Tim, if he should decide to get fussy while I'm busy," I
finished.  Beatrice nodded.  I turned to Eileen, "Sorry, we don't have a lot
of time for romance -- or warm-up, even."

        "I got a little wet, sucking," Eileen related diffidently.

        "That's good news..."  Her anal crinkle was exposed below her thinly-
furred, pink gash.  I touched it with a finger, eyeing her.

        "I do that," she related, her eyes on mine.  "Justin got to telling
me that my pussy was sloppy after I was pregnant for a bit.  I tried things
to fix it, but now I'm not sure he was telling the truth.  Anyway, we did
that -- a bunch of times.  Then things got worse and worse and I did a lot of
things -- but he left, anyway..."  She looked away.

        "Well, I'm interested in pussy right now," I murmured, and began
rubbing my cock on her split.  It was damp.  It wasn't super-wet, but it
wasn't dry -- I took about four strokes to get root-deep.

        Frankly, there was nothing wrong with it that I could find!  It was
hot and wet and there was some nice texture to it -- my cock loved it!
"You're fine," I panted, after a minute or so of stroking.  "I'm gonna push
your knees up..."

        "Oh, good!" Eileen cooed.  "You're WONDERFUL!"  She'd been giving
little whining grunts all along, and they'd been rising in pitch and volume;
once I told her all was well and pressed her knees back on either side of her
breasts, she seemed to jump an octave.  I leaned down and sucked in a nipple
and her eyes got wide and she gasped, "Ooogh!  You have NO IDEA what that
does to me!"

        I did have SOME idea, though -- her pussy clamped down tight while I
did it!  "Will Tim miss it if I drink a little?" I asked.

        "Uh uh!  I've turned into a cow!  Right now I make four times what he
drinks..."  So I started sucking -- and every time I sucked, her pussy
clamped down something insane and her whines hit a limit for how high the
pitch would go and started getting louder and louder until in almost no time
at all she started thrashing and jumping and squealing and her pussy rippled
like mad and my cock couldn't shake off her clutch and swelled and I started
pouring baby juice into her in long squirts!

        Frankly, I was amazed!  Eileen didn't look like much, but she was one
hot piece!  I staggered back and looked down at her -- and realized that she
wasn't all there yet; her eyes were glazed.  It took her a moment -- and even
then I watched her jump and shiver from the aftershocks.

        "Omigod!" she gasped.  "Justin NEVER did that!"

        "Well, I'm pretty sure I understand why he hung out as long as he
did!" I replied.  "Damn!"  I looked around and Beatrice was standing there
looking unhappy.  "Come here and settle down," I told her, "You're still
Numero Uno."  Beatrice STILL looked unhappy, but cuddled up.  Turning back to
Eileen, I said, "You understand what this is, though, right?  I own you.  You
give me anything I want."

        Eileen nodded.  "I understand."

        "Grab Tim, then -- we're outta here!"  I waited while Eileen gathered
herself and got off the table and collected her son, then led them back to
the sergeant.  "I'm ready."

        "The transport pad is set up in the bar," the sergeant replied.  "I
like you -- you've got good sense!  How many kids are we picking up that
aren't here?"

        "One."

        "Perfect."

        I led the group I had with me to where Bridgette, Jemma, and Jackson
were relaxing, still connected.  "Are we good?"

        Bridgette nodded.  "Yeah.  She's got talent, Boss!"  Jackson nodded
agreement.  I turned to Jemma and said, "Go get Abby and..."

        "Trish," Jemma supplied.

        "Hurry back -- meet us in the bar."  Jemma nodded and waddled off,
Jackson's cum rolling down the inside of her right thigh.  I turned to the
others, "This is Eileen and Tim."

        Jackson frowned.  "Aren't we one over?"

        "I got a dispensation for Jemma," I explained.  Turning to Eileen, I
said, "Jackson is my back-door man.  If I'm busy, he will take care of you.
If he tells you something, it comes from me -- but he ASKS for sex -- and you
don't have to supply it.  Still, the other girls have no complaints, so don't
expect that you will, either."

        Eileen stood gazing at Jackson.  "You're... different..."

        "I'm an Indian," Jackson grinned.  "A 'native American.'  I'm
Chocktaw."

        "Really?  Wow!  A real live Indian..." Eileen seemed generally
pleased.

        "Yeah," Jackson grinned.  "Maybe that makes you a squaw..."

        Eileen grinned back.  "How bad is that?"

        "Well, I don't have a horse or a dog, so I guess you're out front..."
Jackson drawled.

        I thought I was going to bust a gut!  Eileen looked shocked for a
moment and then started giggling -- something mixed with snorts.  That got me
going a second time.

        Bridgette said, "Hey!  I thought I was your squaw!"

        Jackson eyed her and said, "I guess you've got competition, then,
huh?"

        Bridgette cocked her head at Eileen and grinned.  "He likes booty,
you know -- they both do."

        "I do that," Eileen declared.  "I like it, too -- and it's a good
thing, given the size of mine!"

        "You're gonna be fine, Honey!" Bridgette exclaimed.  "Sisters?"

        "Sure..."  Eileen eyed Beatrice, who was STILL looking unhappy.

        "Oh, don't worry -- just don't try to edge Bea out of the top spot,"
Bridgette said calmly.  "There's serious love stuff there.  Besides, there is
plenty of Ron to go around -- and Jackson does a fine job of handling any
overflow."

        Eileen threw a hand up for Bea.  "I get it."

        "Beatrice!" I rasped, "Papa spank!"

        Beatrice dropped her head.  "Sorry.  No, it's all cool..."

        "Good," I declared.  "Let's hit the bar.  Jemma shouldn't take
long..."

        She didn't.  Five minutes later, we were settling in on the
transport.


        That was then and this is now.  I'm up to six concubines -- Abby took
to her substitute daddy immediately and I couldn't unglue her when she hit
fourteen, although Trish has gone off with some nice Navy rating.  They're on
a cruise somewhere.  That leaves Alan in charge of the younger generation at
ten years old.  Next in line is Tim, at five, and Brittany, Beatrice's
eldest, at four.  There are, oh, six others right now.

        Eileen comes to me regularly -- the women have a rotation -- but
she's basically Jackson's squaw.  Nobody complains, including me.  Jackson
would have made the cut with a bit more education and if Eileen wants to have
kids by him, that's fine with me -- and the AI, too, even.  Her second,
Reggie, is mine, though -- genetic scans confirm it.

        I have a nice job as an engineering supplies specialist on the
orbiting Fleet shipyard at Rukabat, and I go home every night to my second
job -- the innkeeper at the reconstituted Frederick's Renaissance Inn and
Tavern.  This time, we DO have rooms upstairs and if a customer takes a
serious interest in one of the wait staff, they wander upstairs and work off
a little sexual tension -- although it has happened in a booth more than
once.  The Civil Service cathouse is next door and I draw temps from it, but
Beatrice, Bridgette, Jemma, and Eileen are on permanent staff.  The girls all
wear dirndls but the linen under-dress is virtually transparent, allowing the
customers a fine view of the merchandise, and the bar and restaurant offer an
atmosphere lacking in the cathouse, although the management over there is
starting a remodel that will offer an 1880s look and feel.

        I deliberately pick girls with a good attitude and some meat on their
bones -- and the place is VERY popular with visiting Marines on shore leave.
I lose girls regularly -- but then, that's the idea...

        I got home this night to find Eileen and Abby watching the kids.
"Beatrice and Bridgette are at the bar," Eileen told me, after a hello kiss.
"Jemma is interviewing -- we lost Cynthia last night to that corporal who has
been coming around regularly."

        "Where's Jackson?"

        "Tending bar.  The weapons squad from that platoon in Second Bat is
back and Bridgette is entertaining with one of the other girls."  Eileen
grinned.

        I grinned back.  Occasionally, Bridgette likes to get a little crazy
-- and two of us weren't enough on those occasions.  I let her play -- it
wasn't hurting anything and made for good advertizing -- not that the tavern
wasn't full every night.  Besides, she was a month and a half along...
Beatrice didn't play, but Jemma could be enticed occasionally.  The tavern
was known for its private parties.

        I went on into the bar; Jackson looked up and waved, grinning.
Beatrice swayed over, somewhat impeded by her fifth-month belly.  She was
doing this midriff thing, because lots of guys like to rub a pregnant woman's
baby bump.  Usually, their respect for motherhood meant that they did nothing
else; what they didn't know was that it made Beatrice unbearably horny and I
had to provide relief for her almost nightly!  It's a tough job, but somebody
has to do it, and I'm the one assigned...  I got a kiss and an update on how
things were going and headed for the kitchen.

        Jemma was teaching the new girl the ropes.  "Alice, this is Ron; he's
the boss.  You need to practice on him," she instructed.

        Alice, still nude from the Civil Service pool, swept over and knelt
before me.  "May I?"

        "Certainly."  I allowed her to open the trap on my uniform pants and
fish out my cock.  Thank God for augmentation -- Jackson and I BOTH stayed
busy, between my girls and the girls we brought in to train!  I was probably
going to have to have sex three or four times tonight, and Alice would merely
be the first...  I palmed the back of her head so she could work on her deep
throat.

        All in all, it was an average night at Frederick's...

<1st attachment end>


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