Lyrics to Ten Seconds to Love by Motley Crue (1983)
November 1, 20 -. La Guarida del Lobo, Costa Rica. 19:50 hours.
The night was black, and the ocean too...you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. Lights shone in the distance like stars, but otherwise, the world was void.
Liby stood by the open back hatch of the transport chopper, gripping a metal handhold and watching as the water came closer, the wind displaced by the spinning rotors kicking up white ripples. She was dressed in a black wetsuit, her bag on the floor next to her and the HK across her back. Lacy stood on the other side, her faced bathed in the eerie green glow cast by the running lights. She looked up, and their eyes met.
The younger girl was scared.
Taking her sister's hand, Liby forced the cheeriest smile she could muster, then leaned in, shouting to be heard over the whump-whump-whump of the rotors. "This is the fun part!"
Lacy grinned tightly.
They'd been on the chopper for nearly an hour, sailing first over dense jungle, then along the craggy coast before angling out over the vast Pacific. It was manned by elements of
La Autoridad Moral, a right-wing militia group who fought against what they saw as vice - drugs, prostitution, and government corruption. The U.S. had been funding them for years, and Liby once conducted operations with its current head, Eduardo Ruiz. She couldn't say she liked him or his group, but there's a saying in the intelligence community: A rainy night at the inn makes for strange bedfellows. During her work with Ruiz, she saved his life when they were ambushed on a jungle road by members of El Frente Comunista, a left wing group: The Humvee they were riding in hit an IED and exploded, then rebels started shooting from the brush. She dragged an injured Ruiz behind the twisted, burning remains of the vehicle and, along with two others, held the communists off until back up could arrive.
For this, he was eternally grateful, and promised her anything she wanted or needed. "Call me," he said, "and I will make it happen." As soon as she landed in Quepos and she and Lacy got settled into their hotel room, she called him on his private line. I'm here, she told him and that was that. In the morning, a man in a tan uniform, sunglasses, and red beret arrived in a military style Jeep, picked them up, and drove the twenty miles south along a rutted mountain road to LAM's headquarters.
On the way, Liby and Lacy sat in the back holding hands, each drawing strength from the other. Despite her fear, Lacy watched the passing countryside with a curious wonder that made Liby smile. This was her first trip out of the country, and so far she'd been enjoying herself: They landed early in the evening, and spent a good two hours walking along the beach before eating a late dinner at a cafe along Quepos's strip, a rush of clubs, bars, restaurants, and massage parlors that catered to American and European tourists. Later, in their room at the exclusive Recurso, they made slow, passionate love to one another, their kisses sweet and their touches soft, as though this would be the last time.
And it very well might be, Liby thought now as she stared off at the horizon. Her stomach clutched, and she fought hard to shove those thoughts aside. The time for that was past, she told herself, now was the time for action.
Presently, the churning sea came closer to the ramp, the tops of the waves less than five feet below. The chopper, tilted slightly backwards, stopped its descent Liby squeezed Lacy's shoulder, then nodded toward the raft. One on either side, they slid it down the ramp and over the edge: It dropped and landed perfectly on its hull. Liby grabbed the thick metal cord tethering it to chopper and pulled it, dragging the craft closer. She took off her bag and rifle and dropped them in, then took Lacy's and tossed them next to hers. "Alright," Liby shouted, "follow my lead!"
With that, Liby dropped into the water, holding her breath and crashing through the surface like a stone. She broke, reached out, and scrambled onto the boat, then motioned for Lacy to follow.
Lacy's eyes drifted to the lights on the horizon, like a ship at sail: Five nautical miles separated them from Ricardo Montoya's compound...from men with guns and possible death. A tremor ran through her body, and for a moment she was completely frozen, her stomach clutching like an angry fist and her heart knocking against her ribs in a nervous tempo. She swallowed thickly and glanced at Liby, who sat toward the bow of the raft. She gestured, and Lacy took a deep breath.
She had been mentally preparing herself for this night for weeks, and while she knew she wasn't exactly ready,standing now on a ramp, moments away from taking the final plunge, terror swept through her like an icy wind. In an instant, she knew that she couldn't do this. Once she thought she could, but she couldn't: She would seize up at the wrong moment or do the wrong thing and get them both killed. She would die...Liby would die...and it would be all her fault.
I should have stayed, she thought, Liby would have been better off without me.
Below, Liby beckoned urgently. The boat rocked back and forth in the swell.
She didn't know what she was doing. Liby was James Bond, Rambo, and The Terminator all rolled into one, what was she? A failed football player and disappointment who shot a bunch of paper targets and got her ass kicked in the backyard for three weeks. She didn't have what it took. Wait, no, she did - what it took to wind up dead.
Liby cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, her words ripped away by the spinning rotors and scattered in the wind.
Liby needed her, though; she said so herself...again and again.
Sighing, Lacy held onto the cord attaching the chopper and the boat and scutteled to the end of the ramp; it shook and groaned under her weight. Closing her eyes, she let go and jumped, keeping her body stiff and straight just like Liby told her to. She broke the surface, cold water closing around her head, then came up with a gasp. Lights from the chopper dappled the water like gold, and as she climbed into the raft, Liby unhooked the cord and tossed it away, then held a thumbs up to an unseen crew member in the helicopter. The ramp lifted, closing with a metallic clang of finality, and the bird took off.
Trembling, Lacy crawled over the edge, nearly spilling back when the boat rocked, and dropped onto her side; even with the wetsuit she was cold.
I thought the Pacific was supposed to be warm.
The chopper rose high into the night, dwindling like a passing comet until the only sound was the splash of the ocean against the hull and the only light came from Montoya's island. It was far, faint, and looking at it made Lacy's stomach roll.
Liby came over and sat next to her, unzipped one of the bags, and rummaged around. The blackness was so abnormally total that Lacy couldn't even make out her sister's profile. "Here," Liby said. Lacy reached out and fumbled blindly until her fingers brushed something. She took it; her night vision goggles.
She slipped them over her head, and the world came alive with a greenish glow that hurt her eyes after the impregnable dark. She turned and watched Liby slip her own goggles on. "You man the til," Liby said, "I'll navigate." She leaned over and pulled a cord attached to the motor; it coughed into life, and then settled into a low, quiet hum. Liby took a map out of her bag and opened it as Lacy got into position.
Soon, they were gliding across the surface of the water, the bow bouncing as it broke through the waves. The lights drew inexorably closer, and Lacy's dread built like steam gathering in a pressure cooker. Liby sat in the middle of the craft, her head bowed over the map. "Port," she'd occasionally tossed over her shoulder, "starboard."
Nearly forty five minutes after setting out, the rampart-like bluffs of the island's southern corner loomed craggily over them, black against the night. Waves broke against jagged rocks jutting from the water with a rhythmic sound that reminded Lacy of crowd noise at one of her games. If she listened hard enough, she was certain that she would be able to make out dark and mysterious chants.
She shuddered.
"Port," Liby called, and Lacy steered to the left. They were moving slower than before, rocks poking though the surface all around them. Most of the coastline edging the island was unsuitable for landing: There were the bluffs to the north and a wide marshy area in the south. The only clear spots were a wide stretch of beach on the other side - in full view of the house - and a thin strip on this end.
Presently, they approached it, a narrow edge of white sand guarded by rocks and bordered to the back by thick jungle. The surf crashed against the shore with a loud, roaring din. "Cut the engine," Liby said, and Lacy obeyed, flipping a switch and killing the motor; the boat rose and fell on the tide.
Liby jumped out, the water reaching the bottoms of her breasts, and Lacy did the same, grabbing the towline. Together they dragged the boat onto the beach, then to the treeline, where they covered it with palm fronds so that no passing patrols would spot it and sound an alarm.
Moving quickly, they changed out of the wetsuits and into their other clothes: Tight black pants, tight black turtlenecks, tactical vests, and black watch caps. Liby attached several grenades to her vest, and then did the same for Lacy; Lacy was shared shitless of these things, sure that even looking at them wrong would cause the pin to come out and BOOM there they went, two dead white girls scattered through a Costa Rican jungle.
"Stay close to me," Liby said and threaded the strap of the bag around her shoulder. "Move fast and keep low. Make sure to sweep left and right with your rifle. Finger on the trigger guard and not the trigger itself until you want to shoot something. Okay?"
Lacy nodded. "Y-Yeah."
Liby touched her sister's face. "I love you," she said, her voice sober.
"I love you too."
They kissed as though it were the last time they would ever get the chance. And though neither said so, both knew that it could be.
Liby drew back and stroked Lacy's cheek. "We'll make it through this," she said, "and when we get home, we'll never have to worry about Ricardo Montoya again."
Lacy nodded. In that moment, she put every ounce of trust and faith she had into Liby. If she said they were going to make it, they were going to make it.
They kissed again, their lips lingering and their tongues flicking; their fingers entiwned and their bodies pressed close together. Lacy's heart blasted as it did every time she kissed Liby, and she put her hands on the older girl's hips.
For a long time, they held one another, their faces buried in the crooks of each other's necks, then Liby kissed her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get this over with." She pulled away from her sister's embrace and hefted the HK. Lacy did the same.
Follow Liby's lead, she knows what she's doing; follow Liby's lead, she knows what she's doing…
Lacy repeated this to herself again and again as she followed her sister into the jungle.
Lemy came slowly and languidly awake in a bar of bright sunshine like a cat, his nose twitching and his brows furrowing. Something was tickling his face, and when he tried to move away, he couldn't: A warm weight rested atop his arm. Panic gripped him and the fog in his brain began to dissipate like morning fog. For some reason, the first thing that came to mind was The Night Stalker, that Hispanic dude who used to break into everybody's house, rape them, kill them, then pawn all their shit. He read this book about him and it was scary as fuck; imagine someone crawling through your window in the dead of night, and you wake up to them cracking you across the face with a flashlight.
Sorry, NS, you're not getting my ass. He yanked his arm free and opened his eyes. Instead of a grinning serial killer, he saw something else...the back of a head. Huh? For a second he swore it was Lizy (she sometimes crawled into bed with him when she had a bad dream), but the hair wasn't blonde, it was…
Ooooohhhhh.
The corners of his lips turned up in a sharp grin. It's not The Night Stalker, it's Gwen. LOL. See? My mind goes right to the most morbid option. It's really not healthy. I probably have some kind of goddamn anxiety problem; me and Loan can carpool to the shrink from now on and compare our many phobias, philias, and disorders. Oh, you're afraid of white rice? I'm fine with it, but brown...shiver.
Snuggling closer, he put his arm around her humped form and buried his face in her hair. It was stiff and hard from all the hairspray, but he didn't mind: He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, her scent filling his head and making his smile widen. Is that weird? Like...to enjoy the smell of your girlfriend's hair? I know it's weird to enjoy the smell of not you gf's hair (like, ya know, that lady in front of you on the elevator), but...it's okay when you and her are together, right? Or is sniffing hair just weird in general? If so, I guess I'm a real fucking strange one.
Perhaps disturbed by the sound of his heavy breathing, Gwen stirred, and her butt prodded his morning wood. His body said jump her bones, dude, but his not fully awake yet mind said just cuddle her for now. Hmmm. Okay. Don't tell anyone because I had a cool and manly reputation to protect, but I like cuddling; it's like sex but for your heart.
Or something.
He didn't know and he didn't care: He slipped his other arm back underneath her and drew her to him. She stirred and let out a sleepy, wordless mutter. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck and kissed her warm flesh. He slid his fingers along her slender arm, then closed his palm over the back of her hand. She squirmed, and her butt pushed against his erection. He couldn't help himself; his body rocked forward and he pushed back, ruffles of sensation rippling through his body. Her fingers weaved through his and she turned her head. Her eyes were narrow and filled with hazy, dreamlike sleep. She was smiling, though. "Good morning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good morning," he said and kissed her cheek. She hummed and ran her fingers lazily through his hair. "How'd you sleep?" he asked.
"Better than I've ever slept before," she said, "how'd you sleep?"
He thought for a second. Once he fell asleep, great, but getting there was hard: The things that Gwen told him kept him awake long into the night. He held her tight and kissed her neck and shoulders the way a mother kissed her baby's boo boos. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do, all he could think to do. I'll always love you, he vowed to the sleeping girl, and I'll always take care of you.
When he finally did fall asleep, it was with her cradled protectively in his arms, her heat and smell lulling him. The last thing he thought of before he drifted off was the oft glimpsed sadness in her eyes. In the beginning, he didn't know why it was there, but now he did, and it hurt him so fucking bad he felt like he was going to double over. The first time they had sex, Gwen told him that she was going to make him forget all about Lyra, and right as he dropped over the edge into unconsciousness, he promised to make her forget all about her mother.
"Really good," he said now and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. She smiled and made a purring sound in the back of her throat. He laid his palm on the top of her head and rubbed; she winced.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Petting you," her replied.
"I'm not a cat, Freak," she said.
He kissed her lips and cupped the side of her neck in his hand. "No," he agreed, "you're not. You're a beautiful girl with sparkling eyes and...uh...a vivacious personality? I think that's the word I wanted."
Gwen snorted laughter. "And you're a goofball." She turned her head away and wiggled until their bodies were as close and tight as they could be. Literally. Any more and she'd break through his ribs like a reverse alien chestburster. Oh, no! A better but more long-winded analogy would be like that British dude. What was his name? Bear Grylls? He had a show called Man Vs. Wild where he'd go out into the woods and shit and live for a week. In one episode he was in the Arctic Circle or some shit, and to survive the night he killed an elk, sliced its stomach open, and crawled inside like it was sleeping bag.
That's what Gwen would do if she backed up anymore, is what I'm saying.
"I love you, Lemy," she said.
He kissed the back of her head and held her hand. "I love you too."
"So does your dick," she said and wiggled her butt against him.
"Yeah," he said, "that's my morning wood."
She laughed. "Your what?"
"Morning wood," he said. "Guys are hard in the morning. You know...morning wood."
Gwen hummed interestedly. "I never knew that. I'm kind of wet when I wake up sometimes. What's that called?"
"Morning dew," Lemy said instantly.
Gwen laughed. "How do you know that?"
Porn, my dear girlfriend, porn. "I dunno. I think it was in health class or something."
"They don't teach stuff like that in health class," she giggled.
"Maybe not in your grade."
"And if they did, they'd use technical terms."
She was right, but of course she was; no matter what her bitch whore of a mother said, Gwen was smart and beautiful and everything else good. Except edible. Sexwise, yeah, but not literally. If she was made of pizza, Chinese food, and omelettes…
...he wouldn't have a girlfriend for very long. He'd throw a little Donner Party, if ya catch my drift.
"I think the technical term was morningus dewus."
Gwen laughed so hard she cried, her body trembling in his arms as it had last night, but this time in a good way. "You're full of it," she said, the happy, hitching quality of her voice bringing a smile to his lips. It was like a drug; he wanted more.
"I swear," he said, "the teacher told us. He even Googled it because some kid was like 'nah, that's a lie, bro.'"
Gwen wiggled her butt against his dick and his breath caught. "Stop telling stories," she said, "or I'll have to punish you."
"Punish me?" Lemy asked.
"Yep. I'll play with your thing until you're almost there...then stop."
Lemy winced. Goddamn that's cruel. "You're literally worse than Hitler."
Gwen sniggered. "Well...did he kill, like, five million people?"
Uh...did he? Lemy thought the number was higher...like in the twelve million range, but history wasn't his thing so he wasn't sure. He knew Stalin and Mao both killed more, though, which kind of made calling someone by their name worse than calling them Hitler. Hell, calling them Hitler was kind of an insult. Like How's the weather down there, lil' one? Oh, that makes you mad? How cute.
"Something like that."
Gwen tilted her head back. "Technically, when I make you cum, you shoot, like, twenty million sperm cells, so...you're right. I am." There was a smug edge to her voice that told him she was proud to be worse than one of the most reviled people in history.
And for some reason he thought that was the cutest shit ever.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Discovery Channel."
Oh. That makes sense. They did have shows that were really educational...then they had My 600 Pound Life and shit. My Strange Addiction. Ha! That one was funny; there was an episode where this black woman was addicted to eating mattress foam. You know, that spongey shit? She'd rip off big hunks and nom it down like candy. Oh, and the white woman who was addicted to sniffing gas. Not huffing it to get high...literally smelling it. She'd carry it around in plastic water bottles and…
"I saw that one," Gwen said.
Lemy opened his mouth to reply...but stopped. Did she just read my mind?
"Yep," she said, "I read minds now."
What the fuck?
Sensing his state of confusion, she laughed. "You were talking out loud. You do that sometimes."
His stomach dropped. "I do?"
"Yep," she said, "it's really cute, so don't stop, okay?"
How can I stop something I don't know I'm doing? Oh, man, what kind of weird, fucked up shit have I said in front of people over the years? No wonder everyone thinks I'm a fucking strange-o. "Okay, I guess."
She squeezed his hand and moved it to her chest. "Do you wanna feel my morning dew?"
Yes! "Sure," he said out loud. Gotta play it cool, you know?
She guided his hand down her stomach, over the hem of her T-shirt, which had ridden up, and then to the juncture of her thighs: Fevered heat soaked through the front of her panties. He cupped her in his palm and she turned her head to look at him, their eyes locking. "You can't feel it like that," she breathed.
No, he figured, he couldn't. He slipped his fingers past the waistband and held her in his hand; she was hot, moist, and soft, her smooth, silken flesh trembling under his touch. "Feel it?" she asked.
Lemy's head bobbed up and down. Yeah, he felt it, alright.
Gwen's smile widened. "How about you feel it with your dick now?"
The Lemy Log jerked against his boxers like a wild animal against its cage at the zoo or some shit. Gwen felt it, and her eyes twinkled with sinful merriment. She reached into his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his length. His breath caught, and she tilted her head in playful mockery. He responded by skipping his thumb across her clit, which made her shake. He returned her head tilt, and she raised him a dick-head-rub.
Only one thing to do, brah: He pushed his middle finger past her lips and into her opening. Her face flushed red and she bit her lower lip as she rocked her hips slightly forward, impaling herself. "I'm gonna get you almost there," Lemy said with a crooked grin, "then stop."
"You better not," she said and gasped as he found her G-Spot.
"I wouldn't do that," he said and kissed the tip of her chin, the salty taste of her flesh filling his mouth. "I love you too much." Trailed his lips down the front of her shirt, breathing her scent into his nose and rubbing her in soft, slow circles. With his free hand, he pushed her shirt up past her breasts; her nipples were hard, and when he put his lips on one, she sucked a sharp intake of breath through her teeth. She stroked faster, squeezing every time she reached his base.
He flicked his eyes to her face as he caressed her nipple with his tongue. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were red, and her lips were slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell, the crazy pounding of her heart filling the chambers of his head and increasing his own heartbeat...his body responding to her body's excitement. He rubbed faster, and she moved her hips, gaining speed until the bed creaked and the headboard slapped the wall.
Suddenly, she clamped her thighs against his hand and stopped tugging his dick. He looked up in confusion. Did I do something wrong?
Her lust hazed eyes told him that he didn't. "Fuck me," she said.
Okay!
He pulled his hand away and she spread her knees. He shifted into position and planted his hands on either side of her, his head poking her between her lips. She reached down, grabbed it, and guided it to her center. When he speared deep into her, she jerked and uttered a keen cry. "Oh, God, I love that," she moaned.
"So do I," Lemy said. Setting a slow pace, he leaned over and kissed her neck. She hooked her legs around his hips and pushed up into every one of his downward strokes, tiny grunts and sighs ripping from her lips. Lemy had heard it said that morning sex was the shit, but he always suspected that was hype. No. It wasn't. Morning sex was fucking righteous. She was so much tighter, his dick so much harder. He went faster, and so did she; the bed was crying out in protest and the steady slap-slap-slap of the headboard was now a violent pounding. Sweat sprang to his brow and Gwen's fingernails dug into his shoulders, her head thrust back and her soft throat bared.
"Fucking...yes," she panted.
Lemy bowed his head as his orgasm formed in his depths. He grabbed the sheet in both hands and threw himself as deep into Gwen as possible, wanting to pollinate her flower like a headband wearing bee. It was starting to come, exploding up his dick like Old Faithful. Gwen's walls squeezed and she started to tremble, her eyes flying open and her hips stopping mid thrust.
And that's when someone knocked on the door.
Lemy heard it, but there wasn't fuck he could do; ten seconds ago, yeah, but right now he was teetering over the edge; his center of balance was five miles back and he was tipping, tipping…
The knob rattled and the door opened. "Dude, what the hel - ?" Mom started, but Lemy cut her off with a cry of pleasure and agony as his load exploded from his tip. Gwen's back arched and she cried out too.
Spent, Lemy collapsed on top of her and caught his breath. Remembering oh, shit, my mom walked in, he glanced over his shoulder.
She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and a proud smile on her face. "That's my boy," she said.
Liby dropped to one knee behind a fallen tree trunk and motioned for Lacy to do the same; Lacy knelt, the earth soft and spongy, wetness soaking through the fabric of her pants. Jungle pressed against them on all sides, the thick brush alive with a million exotic sounds that masked the crunch of their passage. It also covered the noises made by the enemy, one of whom was ahead, his back to them and a thin curl of smoke rising from a cigarette. He wore camouflage pants, an olive green T-shirt, a tactical vest much like the ones Liby and Lacy themselves wore, and a wide brim hat. His boots were brown, and as Lacy studied them, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. For some reason, Lacy was reminded of Hector, whom she and Liby released the day before they left.
She shoved that thought away and glanced at Liby.
They had been trekking overland for close to half an hour, pushing northwest through the forest toward the house. Both were on edge, and whenever something moved in the undergrowth, they both jerked their rifles toward it. So far, Lacy had seen three monkeys and what looked like a boar. She couldn't be positive, though; it was a quick, furtive flash of green on the edge of the goggles' periphery, but she thought it had tusks.
So far, they hadn't seen any humans.
Until now, that is.
Lacy looked from the guard to Liby, her heart blasting painfully. If they were coming across people, they must be close to the house.
And to the point when shit got real.
Slipping the HK's strap over her shoulder, Liby laid it aside and took something from her utility belt: Lacy knew from the faint scrape of metal on plastic that it was a knife. And indeed it was, the point sharp and the edge serrated like the teeth of a bloodthirsty shark. Lacy's eyes widened and her stomach twisted.
Liby scanned the surrounding area, then turned to Lacy. "I think he's alone. Cover me." Before Lacy could protest if she had a mind to, Liby scurried over the trunk and dropped onto the other side, her knees bending and the knife glinting coldly. Lacy slung the HK off of her shoulder and shoved the stock into her shoulder. Her eyes were drawn to Liby, sneaking silently up behind the guard at a crouch, but she forced herself to focus on the surrounding jungle. If she didn't concentrate and do what she was supposed to, she would get them both killed.
A wet squelching sound followed by a low, muffled cry told her that Liby took out the target - not a person, don't think of it as a person. She swung the rifle around and watched as Liby stepped away from the mark; he swayed and toppled to one side like a limp suit of clothes left behind by the rapture. Liby wiped the blade on her gloved hand and motioned for Lacy to come. Lacy grabbed Liby's rifle, jumped over the tree, and hurried over, handing her the HK.
"The outpost should be just up there," Liby said and nodded into the foliage to the north. The outpost was a low concrete building from which the security detail operated. It housed the beating heart of the island's surveillance system, which she and Liby had been carefully dodging all night. Objective Number 1 of Operation Righteous Fury was to infiltrate the outpost, disable the surveillance system, plant plastic explosives, and then slip away without being seen. There are more cameras the closer you get to the house, Liby had said, we have to knock them out. This part of the mission required the utmost stealth, and even getting close to Montoya relied on its successful completion.
Liby started away, and Lacy fell in behind her, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder. She tried hard not to look at the dead man but failed: His eyes were wide open and his features twisted in agony. Dark blood trickled from one nostril and from the corner of his mouth. She whipped her head around and drew a deep breath.
It took them fifteen minutes to reach the outpost: The jungle began to thin and the land sloped down to a rushing stream; vines hung from trees and red eyes watched the from all sides, putting Lacy in mind of every horror movie she had ever had the misfortune of seeing. On the other side of the creek, the terrain turned steep, and at the summit, lights shone through a screen of interlaced branches. As one, Liby and Lacy dropped to their knees and swept the jungle with their rifles. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Liby popped up and darted to the treeline, Lacy running behind. They threw themselves behind two facing trees on the jungle's edge and both removed their goggles at the same time.
Liby lifted the rifle and stared down the scope. Lacy opted to shield her eyes from the glare and squint. The building was long, low, and narrow, slit-like windows spaced every six feet. The illumination came from a floodlight along the side. Toward the front, several Jeeps and ATVs were parked in a line. Around back was a door that led directly into the security center. From what Liby had gathered, there would be only two men manning the cameras.
Lowering the rifle, Liby turned to Lacy. "Alright, we're clear." She got up and moved behind her. Lacy got to her feet and together they crept along the treeline to the back of the building, dropping on either side of a bush. The door, protected from the elements by a slight overhang, was roughy thirty yards away, a generator marked ¡Alto voltaje! flanking its left side. A hanging lamp cast harsh yellow light on the step; bugs danced in its glow like pagans 'round a fire.
Lacy's bowels quivered.
Setting the rifle aside, Liby dug in her bag and took out the MP5. "You remember the plan?"
Lacy swallowed and nodded. "Yeah." She set her own rifle aside and took the MP5 from her bag as well. She pulled out the retractable stock and locked it in place. The submachine gun was smaller and more compact than the HK, better for use in tight quarters. After the assault rifle, it was feather light in Lacy's hands.
Before putting her pack back on, Liby removed a small black case. "Alright, come on." She got up and hurried toward the door. Lacy jumped up and followed, looking left and right, her entire body tingling with dread anticipation; she fully expected someone to see them and raise an alarm, but they made it to the step undetected. Liby slung the MP5 over her shoulder and took the case from her pocket. In it were her lock picking tools.
She was just snapping the metal clasp up when the door opened…
Lemy pulled on a pair of pants as Gwen slipped into one of his shirts - it was longer than hers and covered her better, though the hem still stopped well above her knees. Since she wasn't planning on never returning home last night, she didn't exactly pack a bag; the only clothes she had were the ones on her back - her costume. The first order of business was to ask Leia if she could borrow some duds (eighties slang for apparel). The second was to talk to Dad about Gwen staying. Well...second might be breakfast, but if we're counting trivial shit, the real first order of business was taking a leak.
Grabbing a headband from the dresser, Lemy went to the door and waited for Gwen. As he tied it, she came over, stood on her tippy toes, and kissed the corner of his eye, her hands flattening on his bare chest. "You're really sexy when you're not wearing a shirt," she said.
Lemy glanced down at his abdomen. Really? She thought this was hot? Pfft. Girl had no taste.
And he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world for it. He knotted the bandana and pecked her forehead. "You're really sexy all the time." He looked her up and down. "Especially now."
He couldn't put his finger on it, but for some reason seeing her in his shirt was h-o-t. Then again, she was just hot in general, so she instantly raised the sexy rating of anything she wore. Wonder if she'd look good in an SS uniform? Achtung, baby.
She cocked her head to one side and scrunched her lips in thought. "Hmm...if you say so."
"I do, he said into her eyes, and, strangely, those two words made him feel...strangely.
In the hall, there was a massive goddamn line for the bathroom because this is the Loud house, and it's not the proverbial 'typical day' without one. He counted fifteen heads on the short walk to the back of the queue, and who should be playing caboose but Loan; Gwe stiffened slightly and Lemy put his arm around her shoulder. Knowing now the kind of shit she dealt with, the kinds of feelings she had and the bullshit she believed about herself, he could completely understand why she was so hurt by Loan's bullshit. God help her if she did it again, because he'd take off on her like a fucking lawnmower.
Thankfully, she made no sign that she even knew they were there. Good. Keep facing forward and thinking about your high score or whatever, geektard. Oh, George Lucas, faster; ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL NNGH~! Gwen relaxed, but stiffened again when someone spoke behind them.
"Hmmm...that sounded like fun."
Lemy glanced over his shoulder; Lola, dressed in a thin pink night gown with sleeves and lacy white trim, crossed her her arms over her chest and raised her brows. Her lips were arranged in a knowing smile and light danced in her eyes.
Despite having had loads of sex over the past few months and not being a timid little virgin, Lemy felt a hot blush creeping across his face. "Yeah," he said awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. Gwen's eyes flicked from him to Lola and back again, her head cocking questioningly.
Lola turned her gaze from Lemy to Gwen. "You're a lucky little girl," she said. She bent over, slapped one hand to her knee, and pinched Lemy's cheek between her thumb and forefinger in the most aunt like gesture he'd ever seen from her...also the most painful, ow. "He's cute, caring, nice…" she leaned until the tip of her nose was touching his and their breaths mingled,"...and loyal." She tilted her head and chastely pecked his lips, which made him blush ten times harder. I'm not doing this, Gwen, she is! He jerked his eyes in her direction, and she looked like she was fighting back a grin. It's not funny!
Lola started to draw back, but came back and nipped his bottom lip, making him jump. She pulled away with an evil giggle. "He's just like his father."
"He's bigger than Lincoln was at his age," Luan said from the front of the line.
"Yeah, Linc was a late bloomer," Lynn added, "not Lemy, though. Kid's gonna be a monster one day. He's gonna split that girl in half."
Lemy stared at his feet in humiliation. It was all he could do. Families can be so fucking embarrassing, amirite?
"He's that big?" Lana asked, an intrigued hilt in her voice.
Oh, Christ, no…
"Oh, Al," she called in a singsong voice, "you wanna help me with some woodworking?"
"He still owes me a favor," Leia said.
"I am also sexually interested in our male nibling," Lisa said, "but have the common decency to respect his wishes to remain monogamous, a choice that frankly surprises me given his genetic predisposition to incestous polygamy."
Everyone looked at her strangely. "His what?" Lori asked.
"Genetic predisposition," Lisa said, "from the chemical agent I administered - and I forgot that I wiped your minds. Again. Damn it."
"You what?" Lori demanded, her hands flying to her hips.
Lemy scratched his head. I'm predisposed to being an incest freak?
Removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose, Lisa said, "Twenty-one years ago, Lola, Lucy, and Lana fell in love with Lincoln. I wasn't sure he would reciprocate their affections, so I created a pheremonal stimulant to make him more receptive. Something went wrong and it affected the whole house, leading everyone to engage in the most hideous sex acts imaginable. I managed to reverse the acute effects, but your brain chemistry - and indeed even your DNA - were both permanently altered, leading you to accept incestuous relationships, and congress, as not only acceptable but desirable as well. It also increased your libidos."
Everyone looked at each other in confusion.
"Christ," Lisa said in frustration, "you people are dense. In other words: I accidentally turned us all into perverts and the effects are hereditary, therefore our children are perverts, too."
For a moment no one said anything...then a wave of shrugs, 'mehs' and other displays of apathy went through the line.
Huh. That explains everything, actually. "Wow," Gwen said and slapped his butt, "you really are a freak."
"Talk to Lisa," he said, "it's her fault."
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I like it, though."
"So does everyone else, apparently," he said. "I'm sorry about that. Lola tried to get me to sleep with her but I said no. I didn't wanna...you know...cheat on you."
Gwen smiled broadly. "I really appreciate that, but it's not cheating because they're your family. I really don't mind. I told you: I think it's hot."
"I only want to be with you, though," Lemy said honestly. That was half the reason he kicked Lola out..hell, maybe even more than half.
Gwen hummed. "Well...didn't you have fun with me and Leia that time?"
He started to speak, but stopped and really thought about it. Yeah, he did have fun, but he wasn't in love with Gwen at that point. He said as much, and she nodded. "Yeah, but if you and I are both there…" she ran her fingers over his chest, "...and both having fun, what's the harm?"
Lemy once again tried to say something, but Gwen cut him off by kissing his lips.
You know...maybe she had a point. He couldn't lie..he did kind of want a crack at Lola if no one else.
"We'll talk about it later," she said.
"O-Okay. Sure."
Shortly, the line petered out and he and Gwen were it, aside from Lola. "Please hurry, Lem-Lem," she drew, "I really have to pee."
"We'll go in together," Gwen said.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? He looked at her funny, and she rolled her eyes. "I've seen you bust your nut on multiple occasions, Freak, don't be shy about pee."
Behind them, Lola hummed. "Does it look as hot as I imagine?"
Gwen favored him with a sidelong elfin glimpse. "Hotter."
"Hmmm."
"Maybe later on we can hang out and you can see it for yourself."
"Oooh, I'd like that."
Lemy blushed. Remember what I said about families being embarrassing as fuck? Yeah, his family was literally the worst. His girlfriend too. God, she fit right in.
"If Lemy doesn't mind," she added.
Well...kind of yes and kind of no...come on, it's early and my bladder is bursting. Let me wake up, pee, and eat something then ask me how I feel. "It'd be a good way for me to bond with your aunts and sisters," Gwen said, a playful inflection in her voice.
Ehhh. He looked up at Lola. God, she was sexy af, can't deny that. And if that two seconds he spent in her mouth the other night was any indication, she was good. "No," he finally said, "I don't mind."
Lola's open mouth, curled lip smile told him that he just made her a happy girl. "Okay," she said, "we can hang out later. Or soon. Whenever you're ready, really."
"Cool," Lemy said.
In the bathroom, he went to the toilet and threw a nervous glance at Gwen, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. She was right that...you know...she'd seen him in the most intimate way you can see another person (grunting, narrow-eyed, cumming), but pissing was a little different.
Okay, a lot different.
"C-Can you turn around?" he asked.
She grinned and shook her head y. No, Freak, I wanna C U P. He looked at the toilet bowl, and at Gwen's face. "Come on, I, uh, I get stage fright." She shrugged as if to say oh well.
He drew a deep sigh.
"I know it's weird," she said, and her eyes darted away, "but I kind of want to see you...at your…" she trailed off but he caught her meaning. At least he thought he did: She wanted to see him, like, at his most exposed or something. Last night before she fell asleep she asked him to tell her all his secrets and offered to share hers as well. He supposed it had to do with feeling alienated and closed out by her parents or something.
Lemy sighed, not at her but at the shit she went through.
If she wanted to watch him pee...alright. He turned to the commode, whipped his dick out, and aimed it. She leaned to one side and tilted her head to get a better view. Lemy pushed, but bro, someone's watching, no. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and thought of cascading mountain waterfalls and shit. Finally his urethra opened up and a stream of hot piss hit the water. He stole a sidelong glance at Gwen, who watched with evident fascination. Imma have some fun with her. "Ahhh," he said, "better than sex."
Her eyes found his. "Yeah?" she asked, a challenge in her voice.
Lemy nodded. "Oh yeah. You can never compare to a good morning's piss."
She nodded. Okay, I see how it is. "Is your Dad around today? I wanna...bond with him." A mischievous twinkle flashed in her eye.
"Actually, he said the same about you," Lemy said as he finished up. He shook three times then tucked it back into his pants. Gwen's face fell slightly, and he laughed. You ever notice that when you love someone all of their facial expressions are cute? Well...almost all. The I'm sad because my parents treat me like shit one didn't look very good and Lemy would suck a truckload of dicks to never, ever see it again. Anyway, he laughed at her. "Not in that way. He just wants to get to know you." He frowned. "At least I'm pretty sure he didn't mean it in that way." A thought occurred to him, and his stomach clutched. If she let him fuck his aunts, he'd be fair and let her fuck other dudes if she wanted...that meant…
Great, now he was reconsidering what he said in the hall; he really, really didn't want her to fuck Dad, but if he took her thirty pieces of silver, so to speak, he'd kind of have to let it happen if she wanted it to.
When you get right down to it, though, Dad was totally okay with him fucking his aunts, and like he'd said before, he believed that Dad was genuinely in love with them, so if Dad was cool with Lemy doing the girls he loved, Lemy would have to be okay with Dad doing the girl he loved.
Sigh.
This is why my life is bullshit.
"Well...okay," she said at length, "but I...he won't try anything, will he?" There was a note of honest trepidation in her voice that took Lemy aback.
"Like if you don't want him to?" he asked.
She nodded.
"No," Lemy said, "he wouldn't...do that. But, I mean...if you want to, I guess I'm okay with it."
Gwen blinked. "Uh...no, I don't think I want to. He's kind of goofy."
Lemy snickered. "Yeah, but all the girls love him."
"Not this girl," she said and pushed away from the wall. She brushed by him and skipped her fingers over his shoulder. "I love you."
Lemy smiled.
"Now watch me pee," she said.
Lemy frowned.
Some guys might find a girl peeing hot, but Lemy couldn't say that he did. In fact, he would definitely say that he didn't: He watched this live stream porn once where this Australian dude who looked like David Lee Roth was banging this chick and people would call in Dude, do this and Dude, do that (one guy asked him to put it in her butt but Roth was like Sorry, mate, we don't do back door stuff here LMAO). Anyway, one guy called in wanting to see her piss in a jar. She obliged, squatting over a literal fucking mason jar and filling it with pee.
He turned it off and walked away.
Gwen hooked her thumbs into her panties and wiggled her hips as they slid down to her knees, the hem of the shirt hiding her nakedness. Lemy watched with a pucked expression as she tossed her hair out of her face and sat. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad."
Honestly...seeing her like that, sitting there with her underwear around her knees and her hands fisted in her lap...no, it wasn't bad. It was kind of hot.
Then she started to piss and he got confused because on the one hand...okay, it's not really gross because it's natural and everyone does it, whatever, still not sexy though...and on the other...he was getting a little turned on. Not by the piss, but by...I dunno...her.
When she was done, she tore off a wad of toilet paper, lifted slightly, and wiped. Lemy watched with a strange mixture of arousal and self-loathing. His dick was hard and he kind of hated himself for it. At least he had an excuse, tho: My aunt Lisa, AKA Dr. Frankenbitch (that's what Lori calls her sometimes) turned my mom and dad into pervs and they passed it onto me. It's mah get outta jail free card.
Gwen stood, pulled up her panties, and dropped the toilet paper into the bowl. She flushed and turned to him. "There, that wasn't…" he eyes went down to his crotch and she grinned. "Oh, so you liked it."
Shrug. "Kinda."
She pressed her body against his and squeezed his boner through his pants, her eyes widening. "Kind of? You're really hard."
Lemy sighed. "I k -"
The door crashed open and he and Gwen both jumped. Lola stood in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her cheeks as pink as her robe and her chest rising and falling. "Now?" she whined needily. "It won't take long - ten seconds, I promise."
Gwen and Lemy looked at each other.
Here I come
My mind is set
Get ready for love
You're my ten second pet
Lola knelt on the bed before him and lifted her heart shaped ass into the air. Gwen, also kneeling, pushed the older woman's robe up over the small of her back, revealing her pink center: Sick heat washed over him, and with it her wild scent. Her folds glistened wetly in the sunlight spilling through the window, and he looked at Gwen, who nodded. "Do it," she said and grinned, "fuck your aunt."
Touch my gun
But don't pull my trigger
Let's make history
In the elevator
Lemy grabbed Lola's fleshy hips, squeezed, and threw himself forward, his dick sinking into her tight, wet passage like a sword into someone's guts. Lola tossed her had back and moaned. "Oh, God, yes! Like that!"
If she's a whore, treat her like a princess, Lemy heard once, and if she's a princess, treat her like a whore. You make soft, sweet love to a princess, and you fucking trash a whore.
Digging his nails into her skin, he pulled back and slammed forward as hard as he could; his balls battered against her clit and she let out a long Ahhh.
Shine my pistol some more
Here I cum
Just ten seconds more
Lola threw herself back against him, her hips swiveling and her walls clenching around him. She fisted the sheet in her hands and bowed her head, her messy blonde hair veiling her face. Lemy held on as she moved her ass side to side with every one of his thrusts. The sensation was so in-fucking-tens his eyes rolled back into his head. He went faster, railing into her like a drill.
Lola turned her head to Gwen and moved the hair from her face. Her body shot slightly forward every time Lemy stroked forward. "Takes notes, sweetie," she hitched. "This'll have him eating from the palm of your hand."
Ten seconds to love
Ten seconds to love
Pull my trigger
My guns loaded with your love
Lemy's hips flew back and forth with hypnotic speed, his and Lola's coupling making a wet slapping/squishing sound that made Gwen's center burn. The smell of their mingled love found her nose and she drew a deep breath, tasting it like fine wine and getting a contact high.
"Do you like that, Lemy?" Lola asked over her shoulder as she moved her hips up and down.
"Fuck yes," he hissed through his teeth.
Gwen watched Lola's movements carefully, not taking notes but paying attention nonetheless. Sweat coursed down Lemy's face and chest, and his cheeks were crimson. Lola pushed herself back and Lemy gapsed. "Fuck!"
"Guys love it when you clench," Lola said and bit her lip.
Reach down low
Slide it in real slow
I want to hear your engines roar
Before I'm in the door
Lost to animal passion, Lemy grabbed a handful of Lola's hair and shoved her face into the pillow. She was immobilized now, unable to do anything but lie there and take whatever he gave her.
"Fuuuuck!" she trembled, and when Lemy yanked her head back, she purred like a revving motor, a distinctly feline look of satisfaction on her face.
Gwen licked her lips and flicked her gaze from Lemy's face to Lola's. She was fevered and wet, her body aching. An idea struck her, and she pulled the shirt over her head. "When you get close, cum on my tits," she said.
Ten seconds to love
Ten seconds to love
Pull my trigger
My gun's loaded with your love
Lola moaned when her orgasm hit her. Her teeth clamped on the pillow and her walls clamped around his dick. His load started to come, and he yanked out, turned to Gwen, and released, long, silvery ropes of cum splattering her chest. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and sighed in contentment as his molten seed landed on her sizzling flesh.
You feel so good
Do you want some more
I got one more shot
Before I'm out the door
Gwen laid back against the pillow and looked uncertainly into Lola's eyes. The older woman's face hovered inches above her own, her gap tooth smile lewd...and promising. "You'll like this, honey," Lola said and kissed the girl's neck, "trust me."
She trailed kisses over Gwen's collarbone and down her chest, her pink tongue darting out to lap the sperm from her breasts. When her lips wrapped around one of Gwen's nippes, a bombblast of senation exloded through her. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to feeling, her legs rubbing together and creating heady friction. Lola's tongie danced down her stomach, over her public mound, her sinful eyes glued to Gwen's face.
When her tongue dipped between her folds, Gwen's breath hitched. Lola's fingers grazed across her stomach and to her breasts; she tweaked them with her thumbs and flicked Gwen's clit with her tongue at the same time, which made the little girl's entire body tingle. Lemy crawled over and ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes going from hers to Lola's. Gwen grabbed his chin, tuned her head to hers, and smooshed their lips together.
Ten seconds to love
Ten seconds to love
Just wait honey
Till I tell the boys about you
Gwen's heart raced and her body throbbed with pressing need. Her orgasm was so achingly close, but she needed something other than Lola's tongue to dislodge it...something bigger, thicker, hotter. Lemy splayed his hands on her shoulders and thrusted, his dick parting her body and filling her to the point of bursting. Her climax rushed up and her back arched, her pussy taking him all the way to her limit. Stars burst across the backs of her eyelids and every nerve ending in her body crackled at once.
"Already?" he asked playfully.
"Y-Yes," she trembled.
"Don't worry, Lem-Lem," Lola said and kissed his neck, "I'll take care of you."
Was it hot for you ?
Did you fire this round?
The second that I'm through
I'll be leaving this town
Lola stared down at Lemy as she glided herself back and forth on his dick. "How does that feel, Lem-Lem?" she asked.
"Good," he moaned. He squeezed her breasts through the fabric of her gown; they were bare underneath and her nipples were rock hard.
"So do you," she said and leaned her head forward; her hair shrouded them and their tongues danced across one another. She rocked faster, and his dick started to swell. "I-I'm cumming," he said.
Lola pressed her cheek against his. "Give it to me.." Her lips nibbled his earlobe. "Every drop."
Squeezing her tits harder, he threw his hips forward and blasted like Jimmy Neutron, his science juice spurting against her cervix. She hummed and rocked faster, her fingernails digging painfully into his chest and her lips wrapping around his throat. He fired another shot, and another, his back arching as though his spirit was trying to rip free.
When the smoke cleared, he fight to catch his breath, Lola limp atop him and Gwen stretched out beside him, her fingers woven through his. Lola pushed up, her sweat-matted hair obscuring one half of her face. Hers and Gwen's eyes locked.
"Not bad, kid," she said, then looked at Lemy.
He was barely alive.
"How do you feel, Lem-Lem?" she cooed.
Lemy grunted.
She held her hand up, and Gwen slapped it.
"I don't know about you two," Lola said and got to her feet, "but I'm famished." She righted her gown, smoothed it out, and cocked her brow at Lemy. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah," Lemy said. He stood, but his knees were jelly, and he promptly fell over.
"Okay," Lola said, "how about Gwen and I bring you breakfast?" She bent over and kissed his forehead, "as a thank you?"
Lemy nooded. "Sure."
Good thing, too, because he couldn't move for a very long time.