by Jessy Cruise
"That's creepy," she said, shivering a little at the thought.
He tipped the bottle back and swallowed down a healthy shot. Like before, it made his eyes water and his throat constrict but warmth began to spread through his body almost instantly. "It's not really all that unusual though," he told her. "I used to get the same feelings at times when I worked patrol. I'd be in a house and I'd just know that someone was hiding in one of the bedrooms. Or I'd walk up to a car on a vehicle stop and I'd just know that they had a gun or a knife or some rock hidden in it. And it wasn't just me either. Most cops that worked patrol for a while were able to do that. It's just some kind of instinct." He took one more drink and then offered her the bottle.
"Thanks," she said, taking it after a moment's hesitation. She sniffed at it carefully and then put it to her lips, taking a tentative sip. She made a sour face. "Yuck," she said. "This stuff is horrid."
"I agree," he said. "I can't understand why people paid twenty bucks a bottle for that shit. But you kinda get used to it after a few shots. Take a big drink and swallow it as fast as you can, before you have a chance to really taste it. It still tastes like shit but believe me, the warmth it gives you is worth it."
She looked at the bottle doubtfully for a moment and then did as he suggested. She shuddered for a moment as her body tried to reject it and then she began to cough. "Gross," she choked, wiping at her watering eyes. "I almost barfed!"
"But how do you feel now?"
She wiped her eyes one more time and then paused, as if getting in touch with her biorhythms. "Actually," she said, "I do feel kind of warm now."
"Try another shot," he suggested. "Get real warm."
She giggled a little. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Maybe I am," he said, sliding closer to her, until their legs touched. "Maybe you deserve to get drunk after what happened today. I sure feel like I do and I hate to drink alone."
"What if you corrupt me?" she asked teasingly, letting her body lean a little closer to him.
"I'll tell you something, Christine," he replied, turning her face to his and looking in her eyes. "We live in a corrupt world now. If that little shoot-out we had this morning taught me anything, it taught me that. It seems that we might just have to change our definition of what that word actually means now. If you're woman enough to blow some pukebag away with a fuckin' M-16, then you're certainly woman enough to down some whiskey afterward, aren't you? If Jack were awake I'd give him a couple shots too. I never would have dreamed of giving booze to a teenager before all this shit happened, but I never would have thought that I'd need to rely on two teenagers to back me up in a firefight either. So drink up, if you're woman enough, that is."
She took a huge swallow of the whiskey, hardly flinching this time. She handed the bottle back to him. "I'm woman enough," she said. "For anything that you want to throw at me."
"I'm glad to hear that," he said, downing one more shot himself. He picked up the cap and put it back on the bottle and then tossed the bottle itself in the general direction of his sleeping bag. He put his hands to the side of her face and slowly pulled her head towards his. "You are a woman now," he told her softly.
"Yess," she breathed, as his lips touched hers.
She tasted strongly of the whiskey she had just swallowed as his tongue slowly slipped into her mouth. He sucked at it gently, drawing it from her mouth into his own, swirling it against his. She put her arms around his back, pulling him to her, pressing herself into him. He relished the contact, relished the feel of her soft curves beneath her wet clothing. The guilt he had experienced the last time he had done this was gone.
"Mmmm," she hummed, pulling her mouth briefly from his. "You're a great kisser."
"Thank you," he said, pecking at her lips again, letting his own arms encircle her waist.
"Are you sure that you really want to do this?" she asked him, looking in his eyes, her expression wanting but also a little worried. She did not want to be hurt again like she had been the first time.
"I've never been more sure of anything," he replied with complete honesty. "I want you very badly, Christine. I dream about you at night."
"I dream about you too," she said. "No one has ever made me feel like you do when..." she trailed off.
"When what?" he asked, giving her top lip a soft suck, making it swell.
"When you touch me," she said.
"Would you like me to touch you again?"
"Yes. Touch me everywhere."
Their lips came back together in a passionate kiss, their tongues intertwining once again. It was not a gentle kiss that they shared but a lustful one; one designed to heat them up. It did its job admirably. Skip's erection began to push painfully against the front of his pants. Christine let her hands drop down to his ass where she began to knead his cloth-covered cheeks with her fingers. He broke the kiss and put his lips to her neck, biting and sucking on the skin.
"Let's get undressed and get in the sleeping bags," she panted into his ear as she felt his mouth upon her.
"I've got a better idea," he said against her neck.
"Huh?"
He stood, holding out his hand to her. "Come with me. I'll show you something I found when I was checking out the area."
"You mean, go out in the rain?" she asked, although she did not hesitate to take the offered hand and stand up.
"Just for a minute. You'll see."
He led her out of the lean-to and into the almost-night. There was just enough light left for him to make out the proper direction. They moved in between trees and over several piles of fallen branches.
"Skip, where are we going?" Christine asked. "Why didn't we just get into bed?"
"Jack heard us the other night," he told her. "We woke him up."
"We did?" she said, mortified at the thought.
"Yes, or, more accurately, he felt us. He told me that your elbow bashed him in the head a few times."
"Oh my Gawd! Did he tell you that?"
"He did. But don't worry. He's cool with it. In any case, I thought that maybe a little more privacy was in order. And fortunately, I found... where the hell is it now?" He looked at the confusing array of shapes and shadows that surrounded them. "Damn I wish we had a flashlight... oh... there it is. This way." He headed for a black shape that was just a little too straight and even to have been caused by Mother Nature. Christine followed dutifully behind him.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's a genuine, American-made, Ford Taurus that got washed down from the road up there," he told her, stumbling his way closer.
"A car?"
"Correct," he confirmed, reaching out and finally touching cold, wet metal. "I found it while you were making camp. I didn't think you could drive something like this out this far into the woods, even before the comet, but somebody did. You ever done it in a car before?"
She began to laugh. "Except for the other night," she told him, "that's the only place I ever have done it."
"I see," he said, laughing with her. "Then maybe you can show me the way. It's been quite a while since I've had the pleasure."
He opened up the back door of the four-door car and swung it open. It took a little effort since the vehicle was resting at a twenty-degree angle, it's trunk against a tree, the hood the highest point. He held it for Christine. "After you, my lady," he told her.
She didn't move right away. "There's nothing in there, is there?" she asked, obviously thinking more about somebody than something.
"I checked it for supplies when I found it," Skip told her comfortingly. "There was nothing we could use in it but there were no people or critters either. It's empty."
That convinced her. She ducked under his arm and climbed into the back seat, scooting over towards the far door. Skip followed her in, allowing the door to shut behind him. With the upward tilt of the car it was actually quite comfortable to sit in since they were naturally reclined. The rain pattered noisily on the roof above them, adding a sooth
ing background noise. The smell was a bit musty, as if the previous owner had not been very fastidious with cleaning, but it was not overpowering. Most important, it was dry; the first completely dry place they had been in quite some time.
"All we need now is some music," Christine said, stretching out a bit and pulling herself next to him.
"I checked on that earlier," he replied, putting his arm around her. "The battery is still good but the keys are gone. And despite my many talents, hot-wiring an ignition is not one of them."
"Have you been planning this the whole time?" she asked, mock indignation in her tone.
"Who, me?" he asked innocently.
"We're gonna have to get shot at more often if this is the kind of effect that it has on you."
He pulled her against him, forcing her to twist a little in her seat. "Be careful what you wish for," he told her, kissing her on the mouth before she could answer him.
It did not take them very long to get heated back up. Within a minute of their lips touching, both were panting with lust and letting their hands touch forbidden places. Skip reached under her shirts, pushing across the soft skin of her stomach and forcing his way into her bra from below. He cupped her bare breasts, feeling the nipples harden into points against his palms. Christine reached down between them and unbuckled his belt, ripping his pants open once they were free. She reached into his pants where she gripped his hardness with her rough hand, squeezing and releasing it almost painfully.
"I can't wait to have this inside me," she groaned into his mouth.
"And it can't wait to be there," he returned, flicking at her nipples with his thumbs.
He pulled his hands from beneath her shirts and then began to take them off, continuing to kiss her as he did so. Though he couldn't see very well in the darkness, he memorized the shape and feel of her breasts once they were bared. He ran his hands over them, squeezing softly, kneading them, pushing them together. Christine hummed softly as he did this.
"I like it when you play with my boobies," she told him, kissing at his neck now.
He pushed her back onto the seat and then scooted himself backward just a tad before leaning down and taking her left nipple into his mouth. He let his tongue slide all around it, feeling the little ridges and bumps that marred its surface, tasting every square millimeter. He sucked it until she began to moan and run her fingers through his Micked hair and then he switched to the other one.
It wasn't long before both tired of foreplay. "Let's get undressed," Skip said, pulling himself free of her.
"Yeah," she agreed, reaching down for her boots.
They shed their clothes in record time, throwing each piece over the seat in front of them, forming an untidy pile of shirts, socks, pants, underwear, and holstered guns. Since neither of them had been able to bathe in recent memory, the smell in the enclosed car was very strong and thick and not, in the strictest sense of the word, terribly pleasant to inhale. Neither one cared however. The moment they were naked they reached for each other, their lips once again closing into a passionate exchange of tongues and saliva.
Skip ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of Christine's back as he held her to him. She rubbed her bare thighs against his, her hands dropping down once again to grasp his turgid erection.
"Fuck me now," she told him, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth. "Put it in me and fuck me!"
"Come up here," he said, pulling at her by the armpits (which had developed more than a little hair over the past week and a half), dragging her onto his lap. She swung her legs over the top of his, straddling his thighs and inching forward until her bare stomach was touching his. Her crotch pushed towards his straining member and he felt warm wetness and coarse hair. She began to undulate back and forth, smearing her juices on him. He put his hands on her ass and pulled upward a little, forcing her to raise up. "Put it in," he told her.
"I've never done that before," she panted.
"It's time to learn," he replied. "Grab it and put it inside."
She reached down between their bodies and took hold of him again, her hands smearing more of her juices over the head and the shaft. She moved it back and forth for a moment, trying to line it up just right, rubbing the head against her folds as she did so. Skip groaned at the sensation and pulled on her ass, trying to force her down upon him.
The head slipped inside of her at last and, with a gentle tug on his part and a gentle push on her part, she sank down, pulling the rest of him in. Though he had experienced the exquisite tightness of her before, it still came as an altogether pleasant surprise to feel her clutching at him, engulfing him. Both sighed as the penetration occurred, as their crotches joined at the hairs. He began to thrust upward, grinding himself against her body, pushing on the nerve channels that gave her pleasure. They kissed each other hotly as they fucked, his hands squeezing the cheeks of her ass, her hands scratching at his back.
"Oh God, it feels so good," she breathed, moving her lips to his neck once again.
"Yeah," he panted back, thrusting upward with more force, squeezing her ass together at the top of each stroke.
Where their first coupling had been gentle and hesitant, this one was wild and forceful. They began to thrust faster, with more power, grunting and groaning, licking and biting. He dropped his head down to her breasts again and buried his face between them, tonguing the tangy skin, sucking it into his mouth. She put her hands on his shoulders and used them as leverage to push and pull herself up and down. They started to sweat, their bodies sliding together on a film of sticky perspiration.
Skip reached down to her crotch and found her clit, which was swollen and wet, a firm little nubbin just begging to be touched. He began to rub it with a finger, using a firm circular motion. Christine went immediately and completely wild at the contact.
"Oh Godd," she moaned, "ohhhh, ohhhh, yessss!"
"You like that?" he panted into her ear.
"Yes, yes! Keep doing that!"
"Are you going to come all over me?"
"Yesssss!" she screamed, her thrusts speeding up, her hands pushing painfully down onto his shoulders.
"Do it, Christine," he told her, increasing the pressure and thrusting up into each of her downthrusts. "Come on me, baby, come on me!"
"Ohhhhhhhhh," she whined, slamming up and down so hard now that Skip began to fear she might dislodge the car from its resting place and send it further down the hill. She arched her back and stiffened up, her teeth biting into his shoulder. "Goddddd!"
Her spasms went on for the better part of a minute and, with them, her chasm gripped and squeezed spastically on his cock. He leaned forward and took over the burden of thrusting from her, putting his hands to her waist and holding her in one place while he raised his hips up and down. He felt his own orgasm straining to be released and he fought it down, not wanting this wild ride to end.
As soon as Christine's orgasm passed he began whispering in her ear again, trying to drive her towards another one. He continued to move himself upward and downward, rotating and grinding as he thrust. It didn't take very long before she began to pant and moan once more. This time, when she was at the height of her spasms, as her teeth buried themselves into the flesh of his shoulder, he let himself go. Now it was his hips that were rising and falling spastically, his lips that were moaning out uncontrollable pleasure.
"Oh yesss," she cried from the throes of her own pleasure. "Come in me, come in me, come in meeeeeeee!"
When the peak hit him he thrust upward hard enough to bash her head into the roof of the car. Undaunted, he continued to drive into her as his sperm blasted out of his body and into hers. She held onto him tightly as she was bucked up and down like a woman on a mechanical bull. Finally, after an eternity, the spasms died down, with it, his thrusts. They slumped against each other, both dripping sweat, both breathing heavy from the exertion.
"That was totally awesome," Christine said when she was capable of speech.
"Totally awesome?
" he said, kissing her sweaty forehead. "Now just partially awesome, huh?"
"Totally," she giggled, holding him tightly.
They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, his penis shrinking within her but remaining nestled in her folds. The rain continued to patter on the roof of the car.
"So what happens now?" Christine asked him. "Between us, I mean?"
"What happens now," he said, "is that we live life one day at a time. This is the kind of world where you have to do things that way, wouldn't you say?"
"So you're not going to tell me it's all over between us in the morning, that it was all wrong what we did?"
"No," he told her. "I don't think that it is wrong anymore. We used to have laws against doing what I just did but those laws, as much as I used to agree with them, were passed for a world where people didn't try to kill other people for the food they carried, where you didn't have to wonder if you were going to be alive the next day. That was a world where people worried about retirement plans and whether or not there would be Social Security when they got old enough to need it. This isn't that world anymore. And while I like to think that some of our old morals are going to survive, I've already determined that a lot of them aren't. There are certain morals that we simply don't have the luxury of embracing anymore."
"And sleeping with me is one of them?" she asked, half-seriously.
"As far as I'm concerned," he said. "Like I told you earlier, you're a woman now. You proved that today quite nicely. A woman can make her own decisions. While we're on this little journey of ours, I'll be proud to share a sleeping bag with you, if you'll have me."
"Oh I'll have you all right," she told him, grinding herself a little atop him. "I'll have you every night if I can get it."
He kissed her. "You won't get any arguments from me there," he said.
They left the car a few minutes later, not bothering to dress themselves, donning only their boots to keep from getting their feet muddy. They carried their clothes in their hands as Skip led them slowly and carefully back to the lean-to, relying only on his sense of direction to find it.
