by Cristiano Caffieri

Angels and Chasers

In 2125, with the world’s population burgeoning out of control the United Federation was compelled to take drastic measures. Only those truly useful and compatible would be allowed to live. The obvious result was a smaller more productive body of inhabitants, less prone to illness, crime or insurrection.

Everyone over the age of 18 was given a “Personal Audit,” (sometimes referred to as Weeding), which took into account their scholastic achievements, physical and mental condition, and past behavior patterns. Those who did not measure up to requirements were, after a 60 day appeal period, humanely disposed of. Very few appeals succeeded.

There were exceptions of course. Couples who were bringing up children, prior to the rules being applied, were allowed to live and would be re-audited when their children attained the age of eighteen.

Naturally those facing a possible death sentences would like to have quickly formed partnerships to get pregnant but sexual intercourse between minors was illegal. A child resulting from such a union would be taken away from the parents and the law would take its course.

In some cases, however, there was a solution. Someone like myself, who had scored thirty percent or more over the required 100 points, could marry a man or woman who had achieved at least 85; in effect combining their points. My ex-girlfriend, who was a little below par would gotten a reprieve had we have got married, which was the intention. However, before this could happen she was lured away by some rich dude and I became just part of her history. Needless to say, I was devastated.

If you were still alive and not involved in a partnership, people assumed that you were probably a high scorer, and referred to you as an Angel, and Angels were in big demand. People could even buy lists on the internet and you were bombarded with emails, texts, videomails, and even with women knocking on your door. When you rejected these suitors you were in effect sentencing them to death, it weighed heavy on your conscience. I was certainly not overanxious to marry as getting a divorce was extremely difficult, and I was worried about bringing up a child who would have to be coached from birth to ensure their survival.

Women would offer to give me a blow job just to consider their proposal. I could have taken advantage of such situations but I just couldn’t do that. Sure I was tempted the odd time, what man wouldn’t be, but I knew I had to live with myself afterward.

For months I managed to avoid being cornered by desperate and often beautiful young women, who were referred to as Chasers, but then I met Chandra. I was coming home from grocery shopping in the pouring rain and there on my doorstep I found this girl. She was obviously in distress. When I asked if I could help her she didn’t answer but looked as if she might pass out at any moment.

In spite of having some misgivings, I decided to try to get her into my apartment, which was fortunately on the ground floor. I thought I could at least offer her a hot drink. However, she was quite reluctant to move, but after some cajoling she allowed me to pull her to her feet and then, to my amazement, I found that she was blind.

It was a struggle trying to carry groceries and guide her through the door at the same time. I quickly sat her down when we got inside and rushed in the kitchen to put the coffee on. While I was gone she seemed to have gotten even more depressed and she was crying.

Drenched to the skin with her wet hair hanging over her dark glasses she really was a pitiful sight. After I’d served the coffee she cheered up a little bit, but not much. I tried to engage her in conversation by introducing myself,

“I’m Darred,” I said, “Darred Jamieson.”

“Chandra,” she sniffled, refusing to shake my hand.

“Look,” I said, a bit nervous that whatever I did could be misconstrued, “Why don’t you go in the bathroom, there’s a bath robe in there, you could take off your clothes, put that on and I’ll put all your stuff in the dryer.”

She certainly took her time to reply but eventually, she mumbled OK. I led her to the door and asked if she could manage, she said she could. It must have been ten minutes before she re-appeared. Now with her hair combed and the nice white robe on she looked very attractive.

“Do you mind me asking why you were on my step?”I asked, still suspecting that she could be a Chaser.

“I tripped down the street and lost my cane, I guess it rolled away somewhere.” she said, “after that, I kept bumping into things and there seemed to be no one around to help me.”

“I guess everybody is indoors,” I replied, “It’s a very nasty night, but what were you doing out.”

“I’ve been weeded,” she said, “in a few weeks I’ll be dead.”

Now my suspicions were really aroused, “Did you know I lived here?” I snapped.

“Why would I?”

“Because I’m an Angel,” I said brusquely.

“Well, I’m not looking for an Angel if that’s what you think, who the hell would want a blind woman?” Her lip trembled as she said it and I felt a little guilty suspecting that she might have been sitting on my doorstep with the intention of bushwhacking me.

Over several cups of coffee and some sandwiches I’d rustled up, she told me her story. She was born blind, and although in 2125 most people could be cured of the affliction, apparently hers was a special case.

“There is a doctor in Chicago who is using a new technique that has restored the sight of people like me but he’s booked up for the next three months. The Auditors won’t give me an extension, even though, in spite of my infirmity, I had scored 95 points. They just don’t want blind people cluttering up their perfect society.”

Tears started to drip down her pretty face again, as she went on to tell me how her parents had worked so hard to ensure she would not be weeded out. They’d paid for music lessons, foreign language courses, and ballet classes, but it was to no avail, apparently, the Auditors were not impressed.

The world was in such chaos before the Audit Committees were established, most people in that time period, who were not adversely affected by it, gave it all their support. After all, there was little crime; no people living on the street and food shortages were a thing of the past.

A Little Voyeurism
When her clothes were dry, I guided her back to the bathroom. She didn’t close the door all the way and once again my suspicions were on the rise, as well as my dick. I thought perhaps that she was showing me what might be on offer.

Peeping through the crack I saw her slip out of the robe, and reach up feeling for a peg to hang it on. She had an amazing set of tits, a great ass and a bush that I would love to have penetrated at that very moment. When she was fully dressed I quickly made my way back to my chair and watched her maneuver herself through the furniture, using her hands to feel the way.

She sat down on the sofa and I moved up beside her, then I put her to the test, “Would you let me fuck you if I said I’d consider being your Angel.”

Chandra didn’t need a white cane to see where my face was because she slapped me good and hard and screamed, “How dare you say that to me – how dare you?”

It was difficult to console her as she got up and stumbled around the place trying to find the door and crying as she did so. I manage to calm her down after a while, explaining that I had to be sure about her intentions.

When she was sitting again, still hyperventilating, we graduated from coffee to a glass of brandy.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” she asked, as she sipped on her glass with those very kissable lips, “I’ll tell you the truth, I didn’t drop my cane I threw it away because it gives off a signal to oncoming traffic and I didn’t want that, what I wanted was to step into the street and die.”

It was getting late and I suggested rather than going home she should call her parents and to tell that she was staying here for the night. I promised to behave myself but she did seem a little suspicious. Eventually, she did what I suggested, I gave her my bedroom and I slept on the sofa.

I was a little surprised to wake the next morning to the smell of breakfast.

“Once I get the feel of the place – there’s nothing I can’t do,” she said, placing the tray on the coffee table.

“It felt really nice to have someone to sit and talk to over breakfast again, my ex-girlfriend and I had lived together for a short time before she got a better offer and I’d missed that companionship. Living alone at 26 is not something I’d recommend.

“Chandra”, I said, leaning over to touch her hand, “If you were willing to live here under the pretense that you were my fiancé, purely platonic of course, perhaps we could get a delay on your sentence and you could make an appointment with that doctor in Chicago and get a revised audit. ”

She gave a little smile and place her hands on my face and began to run her fingers over my features.

“Why would a handsome young man like you be living alone?” she asked, “There must be hundreds of girls out there looking for a guy like you.”

“I did have a girlfriend,” I replied, “I was her Angel too, but then a man with a bald head and a very substantial bank account came and swept her off her feet. Consequently, I’m not that keen on getting into a relationship at this time.”

“But you just offered to let me live here for a while.”

“Yes – but I did say platonically.”

“Is it possible for two people of the opposite sex to live in such a confined space and continue to be just friends,” she asked.

“It would be difficult for me,” I replied, “Because you’re very beautiful but…”

“Because I’m blind you’ll make an exception.”

“I really don’t want you to put words in my mouth,” I said, getting a little agitated, “I’m trying to help you but if you don’t want my help I can dial you a Podtaxi and you can go home to your family.”

The next thing I knew she touched my mouth gently with her fingers and then she crushed her lips against mine. Running her hands around my neck she kissed me passionately. I normally would have got into the spirit of things, popping my tongue in her mouth and possible feeling her breasts, but perhaps she was right, I was treating her differently because she was blind. She was vulnerable and I didn’t want to take advantage of that.

However, it was she that stuck her tongue in my mouth and it was she that took my hand and placed it on her chest. Then all hell broke loose, as our tongues entwined and I ventured to put my hand up her sweater to feel her soft warm tits.

Even though she responded to my touch I was still a little nervous about where I should take it from there but my cock was as hard as a rock and I was hoping with all of my heart that I was going to relieve the pressure by fucking this very beautiful and sensitive woman. The thought was still drifting around in my head when I felt her hand slowly working its way up the inside of my crotch.

I pulled away from her for a moment and asked her, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes this is what I want,” she whispered.

Lifting her up in my arms I carried her to the bedroom. I lowered her down so that her bare feet were on the sheepskin rug that lay at the bottom of the bed and we started to undress each other. As we struggled, trying not to get in each other’s way, we began to laugh – but my laughter stopped when I was confronted by her naked body. She was gorgeous. The only blemish she had was a faint number tattooed on her wrist to indicate she’d had been Weeded. These marks were removed if the person’s appeal was successful but as I say such successes were very rare.

Picking her up again I lay her on the bed. With her mass of sandy hair spread out across the pillow she looked like a Greek goddess. I lay down beside her and she smiled, “Now you’ve seen my body,” she said, “it’s my turn to see yours.”

I was feeling so tense, my dick, which should have still been erect, had chosen to sulk – possibly because I was so nervous. However, when her fingers began to very gently feel the contours of my body I began to tremble and it shot up like the mast on a pirate ship.

She started by running her fingers through my hair, then she felt my face, then she lightly touched my lips before bending over to kiss me. It was just another kiss but it sent sparks flying through my whole body.

She ran her hands over my shoulders, squeezed the muscles in my arms and then headed south to where my cock was waiting impatiently. The moment her fingers made contact with it I gasped and she stopped abruptly. I actually held my breath waiting for her next move and when she took it between her thumb and forefinger and pulled the skin back I cried out.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, in a faint whisper.

“No it just feels so fucking good,” I replied.

She smiled, and then bending over me she took it very gently in her mouth. Just the very tip at first but then she slowly slipped more and more of it between her sweet lips.

As she worked up and down my shaft I was desperate to cum and it wasn’t long before I felt that extreme tension that builds up before you feel it working its way up from your balls. I called out that I was cumming and she pulled away and finished off with her hand. As I lay there twitching and breathing in big gasps she licked the dripping end of my dick.

“That tastes salty,” she said and took another lick.

Still breathing heavy and perspiring a bit I sat up and laid her down. Then I opened up her legs and knelt between them. She seemed very nervous and so I did everything gently and kept reassuring her with loving words as I took a nipple between my lips and began to suck.

As I licked one tit I would fondle the other, she responded by whimpering softly, and then she gave a little jerk as I moved my hand down her body and began to probe the lips of her flower with my finger. I slipped it in as far as I could and worked it in and out for a few moments before repositioning myself and placing my face between her warm thighs.

Chandra started to tremble as I gently parted her lips and licked from the bottom of her crack to her clitoris, again and again. I kept moving my fingers to create even more sensation but that was hardly necessary as she very soon gripped my wrists and yelled, “I’m cumming.”

Raising myself up I looked down at her writhing body on the bed. Her ass was moving up and down and her gorgeous tits were bouncing from side to side. I moved up and put the end of my cock so it was just touching her pink petals, she drew a deep breath anticipating that it would soon be slipping deep inside of her.

When I made that first forceful thrust she let out a gasp and then she dug her nails into my back as I rammed it in, and began to pound her pussy with ever-increasing speed. Soon I started to shout “fuck,” over and over again as I could feel my hot sperm racing up and into her love tunnel. She held onto me tight as I made those last final thrusts and then I just lay there on top of her for a while.

She was strangely quiet when we returned to the living room, I suggested watching some TV but then realized that wasn’t very practical. After that, I didn’t seem to have any suggestions. I tried to ask her about her family and friends but she was not very forthcoming, in the end, I said I’d slip out and buy a nice bottle of wine for supper.

Questioning My Decision
Once I got outside in the fresh air I began to wonder if I’d done the right thing by inviting her to stay with me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with it but I didn’t have to worry when I got back to my place she was gone. She left a short note saying thank you for everything but that was all.

I was sort of relieved. Now I could go back to my leisurely lifestyle without having to worry about someone else’s needs. I poured myself a drink, put the TV on and sat back to relax. Five seconds later I suddenly realized that in a few weeks she was going to be put down like a sick dog. I’d heard rumors about what went on, they had all their hair shorn, they were injected with some solution or other and when they were dead their organs were harvested. One friend of mine even claimed that the Special Police, who we referred to as Gardeners, sometimes raped the women before ending their lives.

“Holy shit – I can’t let them do that to Chandra,” I cried and I grabbed the phone and brought up the number she’d dialed when she called her parents. It turned out to be the weather service.

I was in panic mode I ran out into the street and started calling her name, people looked at me as though I was crazy but I didn’t care a fuck. After walking a few hundred yards I called up a Podtaxi and programmed it to troll around the streets. About twenty minutes later I saw the figure of a woman ahead, staggering as if she was drunk, it was Chandra.

Stopping the Pod I jumped out and grabbed her, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” I yelled, “why are you running away from me?”

She just leaned on my shoulder and sobbed. I got her back to my apartment and I didn’t yell at her again, I just said, “Welcome home,” and I put the coffee on.

Once I’d handed her a cup of coffee I just did what I did when I was on my own, I cooked supper, laid the table and announced, “Dinner is served Madame.”

She actually smiled and took her place at the table. It was quite remarkable how she felt were everything was and that proceeded to eat just like as if she could see perfectly.

“Is it OK we go down to the registrar and get married tomorrow?” I asked quite casually.

She stopped eating, “You don’t have to do that,” she said, “Let’s just ask for a fiancé permit and I’ll go back to my job and share all the expenses here until I’ve had my eyes done.”

“But it’s more difficult to get that kind of permit because they’re suspicious of people abusing them – and that’s exactly what we’d be doing.”

“Well, I don’t want to marry you.”

“I know I’m not much of a catch,” I said, “But you could marry me until you find someone better.”

She giggled, and spilled some of her soup, “You’re so silly.”

“Is that why you won’t marry me because I’m so silly?”

“No it’s because you don’t love me – you’re just sorry for me.”

“If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t have come chasing after you.”

“You can’t love me, you haven’t known me long enough.”

“Do you love me,” I asked, holding my breath waiting for the answer.

“Possibly,” she replied very quietly.

“You’re just saying that because you’re sorry for me,” I said, “You’ve not known me long enough.”

“O my God,” she cried and got up from the table holding her arms out to hug me. I quickly got up and we wrapped our arms around each other, and of course, we ended up in the bedroom and completely forgot about the second course.

The following morning she decided that I should meet her parents before we tied the knot. We got a Podtaxi and drove through what was left of New York, as so much of it was now underwater. It was completely different to how my parents describe it when they were younger – some twenty-five years ago. In those days there were beggars and homeless people on every corner, feral gangs roamed the streets prepared to kill you for your jacket and shoes. Since the Special Police were established by President Bachmann, it had been completely sanitized – there wasn’t even a scrap of paper on the streets.

About halfway there I saw a convoy of black PodBuses with tinted windows and marked Special Police. It made me shudder because I knew these vehicles were used to transport those who’d been “Weeded” to the termination grounds. I couldn’t imagine what those poor people were going through at that time or what they were about to face. It was too horrible to contemplate. This was one of the rare occasions when I was happy that Chandra couldn’t see.

Her parents lived in the area that was once called Yonkers, now referred to as Ameliasburg, in honor of the president’s late mother. There was a sixty-foot statue of her in the city center tastelessly holding a weeding hoe.

The President had changed a lot of names; even Washington was then called Bachmann City and Texas, where there’d been an insurrection had been renamed Sodom. In spite of his cruelty and his eccentric behavior, he was still adored by millions.

Convinced that their daughter had killed herself they were overjoyed to see us. When she told them that we were getting married they hugged me so enthusiastically I thought they were going to knock me over. They didn’t ask a single question about my background or anything else, that showed how desperate people were to save the children from a horrible end.

We spent the whole morning with her parents and in the afternoon I took her to meet mine in New Rochelle. The reception we got was quite different.

“Are you sure you doing the right thing?” my mother asked when she got me on her own, “She’s blind.”

She must have known that I was aware of that fact but felt it necessary to point it out to me just in case. My father seemed quite happy about our forthcoming marriage and was having a great time talking to Chandra when we got back into the living room.

We didn’t ask our parents to attend the registration as it was just a formal signing but promised to have some sort of a ceremony later on. It was just as well, the registration turned out to be most unpleasant.

Problems with the Registrar
After buying a new dress for Chandra and duding myself up we proceeded to city hall and the Registrar’s Office. There was quite a lineup and though we had an appointment we waited almost two hours to get to the screening room where we were searched and had our fingerprints checked. From there we were admitted to the inner sanctum where the Registrar, a man from the Personal Auditor’s Office and a couple of Special Police, armed to the teeth, sat behind a large ornate bench.

Registrar Williams looked down his nose at us as soon as we entered.

“Another Chaser wanting to marry an Angel I see.”

Neither of us said anything, it never pays you to go up against guys like that, they have the power of life and death over you.

“So Chandra Steen, I see from your records that you’re blind and have scored short on your personal audit.”

“Only by five-point,” she interjected,

“Silence,” yelled the man from the Personal Auditor’s office, “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“How long have you known each other?” asked the registrar, rubbing his chin as if he wasn’t going to believe a word we said.

“Just a few days,” I replied, thinking there was no point in lying.

“And you expect me to believe you’re in love and prepared to spend the rest of your lives together.”

“Yes sir, we’re very much in love.”

“Well young man,” he said, once more rubbing his chin, “I have the feeling that this is a marriage of convenience and although your combined scores are acceptable under the law, it is my duty to make sure that the relationship is not based merely upon one party’s desire to avoid Weeding. I, therefore, reject your application until you can produce more tangible evidence.”

“What would that entail,” I asked, making sure I was being respectful to the bench.

“Come back when you’re pregnant,” he said, and his colleagues gave little smirks in response.

Chandra was a bit teary-eyed on the way back but I put my arm around her and told her I would impregnate her if I had to fuck her three times a night. Of course, I’d never planned to have children due to the political situation but I needed to save her from a very unpleasant death and I was always hoping that the political environment would change in the near future. There was certainly a lot of unrest from relatives of those who been punished unjustly.

When we got back home I was ready to go but then she told me she was having her period and that we’d have to delay things for a few days. I was panicking a bit because I knew her termination date was getting closer, and closer. Needing to put bread on the table I had to return to work but I urged her not to go back to her job until we’d achieved our goal.

When we did get back in the bedroom she wasn’t ovulating right away but we fucked anyway. Over a two week period, we did it every area of the apartment and in every position. I particularly like to go in from the back and hang onto her beautiful round ass.

We had a testing kit available that could predict conception within 24 hours. Naturally, I was getting a bit tired working all day and fucking all night but one Thursday after supper I just had that feeling that the time was right.

Chandra was rinsing some dishes out over the sink and I went up behind her and lifted her dress, she leaned back against me affectionately as I pulled down her panties. She waited there patiently while I slipped off my pants and she felt the wet end of my dick brush across her thighs. Holding on to her hip bones I slid it into her wet crack. She gave a little gasp as I forced it in as far as it would go.

I didn’t start pumping it right away as I wanted to hold on to her delightful appendages and so I slipped the dress right over her head and bingo – I had a tit in each hand. I began to pound her ass in that position but when I felt my sperm beginning to move up I transferred my hands back to her hips and I drove it into her a mile a minute.

Chandra was hanging onto the sink puffing and blowing as I slammed into her ass. When I blew my load I yelled, “O FUCK!” at the top of my voice and hung onto her tits again until I’d given her every last drop.

Of course, we kept at it like two rabbits for the next two days and then, on the Thursday evening, after I’d been working late, she greeted me with a big smile on her face, the testing kit had spoken and it said, “Pregnant.”

We had to confirm this with a doctor and then it was back to the registrar who reluctantly stamped our papers and we were man and wife. There was a party where our parents got together, a couple of baby showers and on the day that our daughter Medwyn was born the government of President Bachmann was deposed and a more liberal regime took power.

Chandra had her operation a few months after the baby was born and the excitement when those bandages came off was indescribable.

After we’d kissed and hugged each other somewhat enthusiastically the doctor, who stood there smiling asked.

“ Who is this man?”

“I don’t know – I’ve never seen him before,” she laughed.


Copyright 2015-2016 Cristiano Caffieri

The characters portrayed in my stories are, for intents and purposes, fictional and any similarity with persons living or dead is purely a product of your imagination.

You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of my stories or images in any format, or claim ownership.

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