A Strange Form of Contraceptive

I quickly duck into cover as I notice you pulling the trigger, your bullet whizzing overhead. I chuckle when you curse, inching towards the edge of the boulder I was behind and carefully peeking around it. You're standing completely exposed at the entrance of the bunker, my fingers even twitch at the thought of taking a shot, but I pause. You're confident, too confident. Pulling back into cover I glance around, eyes falling on a wrecked tractor and more importantly its tipped-over tyre. I am almost struck several times getting to it but once the tyre's up and moving I'm safe, you're too busy diving away from the heavy rubber object. It barrels into the bunker, making an awful racket as it disappears, but as I follow in its wake all I can do is dance back into cover, your short volley smashing into the tractor's engine compartment.

I scowl as I consider my options. I have to get into the bunker, need to, but you're in the superior position, even as you climb back onto your feet. I could spray and pray but it only takes one lucky shot. The squawk of the radio you have on your belt splits the silence though and I move to catch sight of you running into the bunker, firm ass squeezed into cut-off combat shorts. I take aim at the center of your back, only to hold off due to the lack of challenge.

By the time I get to the bunker entrance your lithe bronzed form is vanishing around a corner. I cautiously approach the tyre, now back on its side, and walk past it, straining to try and hear your footsteps. Taking a flight of stairs sends me deeper and on the threshold of a large squarish room I press myself against the wall. Multiple corridors lead away, further into the bunker interior, and I'm wondering who built it, how much money was spent. A whirring noise gets my attention and I watch as the blocky turret in the middle of the room completely rotates, its optical sensor glowing red.

I retreat back to the tyre and, with a lot of grunts and cursing, get it down the stairs. When I push it into the room the turret swivels before opening fire, a string of bullets loudly smacking into the rubber. While the turret's distracted though I step into the room, gun held high, and fire a bullet of my own at its sensor. The machine whines unhappily when hit and I take a moment before firing a second bullet, this one hitting the turret's core and deactivating it. I spot you down one of the corridors opposite, can tell from your body language you're as unhappy as the turret, and bring my gun round, pulling the trigger.

My first bullet hits the wall just to your right, I see you whirl round and recoil from the impact. The second strikes your right breast, the perky orb depressing slightly, and leaves behind a crimson splodge. Your gun slips from your hand with a clatter as you use the other to cradle your breast and I approach at a slow pace, wary of more tricks. You've slumped to your knees when I start along the corridor and you tear open the waistcoat you're wearing, baring yourself to my gaze. I take advantage and shoot at your left breast, hearing the whuff as the breath is driven from you.

You flop backwards, legs spreading, and my gaze is drawn to the tightening fabric hiding the apex of your thighs. Producing a knife I settle between your legs and carefully cut the seam of your shorts, mock-gasping when I fail to see any panties beneath, and fish my cock from my trousers. I swiftly unbuckle and remove your headgear, arranging your golden hair to resemble a halo and then take a moment to admire you before jerking forward until I'm hilted, your breasts swaying and arms flailing slightly. You're dripping, as turned-on by our duel as I am by your body, and I groan as your velvety pussy tries to hold on to my cock.

As one form we rock as I ravish you, hunched over so I can look into your eyes, but you can't maintain the illusion of being dead and wrap your arms around my neck. You hiss in pain as I press down against you, we won't be paintballing until the bruising goes, and tip your head to kiss me, gaze alive with mischief. You throw your head back to sweetly moan after a rough thrust and I cruelly grin when I pull out. You whine upon losing the feeling of being utterly filled but scoot backwards, sensing the climax of our coupling. Together we look at where our flesh had just been joined, a hint of sadness on our faces, and I pump my cock until I shoot my seed onto your toned stomach.

"Maybe you'll beat me next time love. It'll certainly be hard to not cum in you while you're riding me!"