OMalley - Supernerd: Inside the Amazons: A Harem Fantasy Adventure

SUPERNERD:

Inside the Amazons

TIME LORD: BOOK 1

A Harem Fantasy Adventure

Written by April OMalley

Inside the Amazons

Copyright 2019 April OMalley

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

BANG. BANG. CRACK.

That last shot pinged a few meters away from me, sparking against the ledge. I covered my eyes, kneeling down.

So, this was it then.

A revolver pointed at my torso. Helicopter thrumming in the distance. Boss Bitch was gonna fire me for all of this, of course. I mean, how else could this situation go?

Oh, police or being shot to death by her goon... Yep, that was probably where we were heading. And it would only be the beginning.

Things started out very slowly, before they exploded... I have quite the boring life. That morning began simple enough, other than the orgy suddenly penetrating my apartment walls, from next door, where my co-worker lives (he looks like the stud from Aqua Man.) Groaning, I pulled the sheets over my head. The warmth of my reflected breath felt snug. My toes were all toasty.

Christ, this is amazing, I thought.

OH GOD, a woman screeched at that moment, just like she was taking a terrific dump while trying to hold back the sound. Her voice was muffled by the walls somewhat. My heart wrenched then flew straight into the back of my throat. I stared at the covers with popped eyes in near darkness, afraid to pull them back.

A disgusting slap-slap-slap...continuously...moans...thenYOU! OH MY FUCKING GO before she cut out with another slap. Clearly, my co-worker was beating the life out of the woman next door. In my head, Im seeing the chicks plump butt smashing against his six-pack abs, like punching jello.

Beccas plump ass, I mean.

My goddamned wife!

I was experiencing intense anxiety, needless to say. Eat this fucking ball-gag! grumbled Griegs smooth voice, ripping at my heart further. My wife made an exasperated sound like he yanked her hair. She called him a fucking bastard.

I havent had sex in forever, so my thing became a bit swollen. My imagination filled up the picture (doggystyle?). Saliva flooded my throat and I was completely still, straining my ears to the nightmarish morning scene.

SMACK!

The sound of his hand echoed against the walls and Becca laughed crazily, swearing again. Yep, definitely doggystyle. I could see Griegs large handprint, in my mind, outlined on her pale butt in redpink around the edges and redness spreading to the whole cheek to match her hair.

They continued slapping away, faster now. Stick that fucking thing out, he said calmly. I think she replied yes, daddy, though that part was hard to tell. Becca swore through the possible ball-gag, then the wet slopping hit light-speed. I made out her deep, frothing-at-the-mouth, growling swears now only because of the intonations.

This wasnt the first time Id heard my co-worker absolutely demolishing a woman. This was definitely the first time Id woken up to him banging my wife... It was so stunning that my anger froze like water held back at a dam. I stared at the deep brown darkness, under the covers, afraid to let dawn light pour into them.

If youre wondering why Im alone in bed, each morning Becca likes to leave for work early: I dont need you trailing me across the house, OK? For the first few months, I lied there, frozen, listening to her getting dressed, and pretended to be asleep. It was torture at first. I would imagine her ginger face scowling at my asleep face.

She should be at work.

Then the bed next door started creaking... This time, it was slow and steady, like a rickety rocking chair. His penis stabbed at me with each deep stroke, squeaking the frame. Beccas moans stretched out, elongated to a tremble, then sustained into whimpers and eventually overwhelmed wails.

Pathetic, yes, but its not until then that I swiped the sheets from over me and stared at the far wall. First thing in the morning, I wake up to my wife being banged.

Yeah, right.

This was the exact kind of neurosis Becca accused me of in the counselors. Always reaching for answers to problems that didnt exist. Always imagining the worst. Really, it was just another one of my co-workers playmates.

Grow up, Killnos. Id have to sit opposite Grieg later today.

My chest still crushed together, though, so I reached for the iodine-colored Xanax bottle, threw a few into my mouth and shuffled to the bathroom door by the bed, in my slippers.

Hmm, Ai buzzed. You seem to be suffering a panic attack, Master Killnos.

I ignored Ai, cupped some tap water and used it to swallow the anti-anxiety pills. That alone sent relaxation waves through me, likely placebo. Next door: the surround-sound broke into deep female laughter, real...throaty laughter.

Crap, she sounded too similar to Becca, just a ton naughtier. I flicked the silver radios knob, wanting to tear my heart out from my thoughts: I dont know how much more of this I can take.

...the New York mayor says our citys main bridge will be out for several weeks, the radio chimed. We need to make sure the apparent instability is nothing more than human sensory phenomena.

Its enough to hear your next-door neighbor have marathon sex every second night. Did he have to go and audition a woman who sounded freakishly like her? And when the hell were they going to fix that bridge? I could have done it on my day off. Getting to work was enough of a Herculean labor without incompetent engineers taking an eternity.

I have a problem, I said to the clean-shaven face that apparently was me. His eyes were languid; they kind of reminded me of a beat dog. Those eyes dropped to his thin arms, lanky frame and jet-black, wet hair.

When the heck were these pills gonna kick in?

Should I perform a calculation on your problem? Ai buzzed through my wrist cuff soundlessly. I will need parameters, Master Killnos.

I should remember to text her more, like we agreed. Every little counted on my journey to getting one percent as much sex as Grieg. I grabbed my phone with shaky hands.

Killnos: Good morning sweetheart, I love you. Hope you have an amazing day xx :) :) K

For some reason, my thumb paused. Damned hyperactive mind... I pressed send. Whoopmy phone confirmed delivery, then I stared, waiting to see delivered morph to read.

Master Killnos? Ai buzzed up my wrist to my inner ear.

Not now, I growled. I clicked the cuff, setting Ai to standby and decided it was too torturous to wait for Beccas maybe reply. A devilish smile spread across my face... There were benefits to being alone in the house, mornings. I have more important things to attend to, little sentient.

Then followed a hole in my stomach. This was the depressing part of the week.

I pulled the thing out, slapping it against the sink to try to wake it. Nothing a doing. So I pumped away with a flaccid organ, hoping that some muse might strike me this time.

...and I really dont like the idea of a wobbly bridge, a caller drilled through a tinny caller signal, Isnt this simple stuff? A bridge should do what its supposed to do! I pay taxes!

How alien. I dont even use porn, or hadnt for seven months now. I wake up with sexual frustration to the point of wanting to kick through the walls. Yet, it would probably take longer than I had to get ready, for me to reach climax.

...another caller who thinks it just isnt good enough, the presenters fuller-signaled voice took over. What do you all think? Should we be more upset with the city?

I swore, tugging at the thing. But it was like tapping down a weak spring against a table. I wouldnt even get an arm work out. The most will be cardio.