The day after: An apocalyptic morning

by Jessy Cruise

  He set her gently upon the Mickress on her back and then released her, standing up and looking down at her. "You really are a beautiful woman, Chris," he told her, touching her face.

  She grasped his hand in hers and took one of his fingers into her mouth, sucking it and swirling around it with her tongue. It was an incredibly erotic sensation. She did this for a moment and then let it slip free, a small string of saliva stretching out and then breaking. "Show me how beautiful I am," she told him. "Make love to me the way it's supposed to be done."

  He undressed her, piece by piece, starting with her shirt and her bra. The skin of her chest was a little reddened, not quite a rash, from the recent removal of the protective layer of dirt it had developed and from the unfamiliar exposure to laundry soap residue in her new clothing. Her breasts stood up proudly, the nipples erect. He bent and took them into his mouth, licking and sucking each one until her back started to arch upward. Her hand reached out and began to squeeze his erection through his jeans.

  A simple pair of Nike tennis shoes had replaced the camping boots that she had worn out in the wild. She kicked them off, letting them drop to the floor, as he began to unbutton her jeans. Beneath them was a pair of plain cotton panties, sparkling white against her pink skin. As he slid the jeans down her shapely legs, he saw that the crotch was wet with her juices. He ran the knuckle of his finger over her sex, feeling the damp cotton, feeling the outline of her swollen lips beneath. Her smell, her natural smell, reached him for the first time and he moaned, thinking how nice it was going to be to finally enjoy her body like it should be enjoyed. Their past couplings had all been marked by an unspoken, but very real effort to avoid touching certain places due to the filth and odor that they'd accumulated.

  He dropped her pants to the floor and then took one of her legs in his hand, bringing her foot to his face. Looking her in the eye he took her big toe into his mouth and began to suck on it, treating it the same way she had treated his finger. She immediately began to squirm on the bed, her breathing kicking up a few notches as unfamiliar sensations coursed through her.

  "Oh my God," she whispered, craning her head backward. "I... ohhhh..."

  He sucked each toe in turn, moving from the big one to its neighbor and finally ended up with her small toe. He then began to kiss, lick, and suck his way along the side of her dainty foot, paying particular attention to the sole, delivering sensation that was just below the threshold of a tickle.

  "You're driving me crazy," she said breathlessly.

  "That's what I'm trying to do," he said. "Do you like it?"

  "Yessss," she assured him.

  He kissed his way up the back of her calf, his lips and tongue moving over the smoothness of her recently shaved flesh. Thanks to the all of the walking uphill they had been doing with full packs, her calves were tight and muscled, very toned. She opened her legs widely as he worked his way upward, her hand dropping down to the outside of her panties, where her fingers began to idly play in the crotch area, spreading her wetness around. He continued to move higher and higher, his hands caressing the flesh ahead of his mouth, enjoying the silky softness. When he reached the back of her knee, a particularly erogenous zone on most women, he spent nearly two minutes there, tonguing it and tasting it, making her beg him to keep moving.

  At last he did, his kisses trailing along the inside of her thigh, his teeth occasionally nipping at the tender skin. As he moved closer to her center her odor began to grow more powerful, more insistent and she began to grow more restless upon the bed.

  "Ohhh, Skip," she moaned. "Stop teasing me."

  "When the time comes," he told her, his mouth giving a quick suck high on her thigh.

  When he felt the damp material of her panties touching his cheek, he slowly turned his head forward, finding his eyes less than three inches from her cotton-clad sex. Her musk was now very strong in his nose, driving him onward, breaking his will to keep teasing.

  "Put your mouth on me, Skip," she pleaded, her fingers finding his hair. "Please? I want to feel it. I want it!"

  He leaned forward, his tongue sticking out and contacting her panties right over her lips. He gave a little suck, the tart flavor of her juices being transferred to his taste buds. He could feel the quivering outline of her clit through the cotton, could make out the soft shape of her vulva.

  "Oh God, take them offfff!"

  He kissed her through the panties, rubbing his face in her, pushing against her, making her squeal with the sensation.

  "Now, Skip," she begged. "Take them off now!"

  "And then what?" he asked between kisses and licks of the cotton.

  "You know what," she panted.

  "Do I?" he asked, giving her an extra-hard rub.

  "Yessss!"

  "Maybe you should tell me..." another kiss, another suck, "just so I can be sure."

  "Eat me!" she nearly screamed, her fingers giving a yank at his hair. "Please, eat me!"

  With a smile he hooked his thumb into the crotch of the panties and slowly pulled it to the side, exposing her treasures to him. The lips were an angry red and invitingly open, the surface glinting with wetness. They were framed on the sides by her sparse growth of blonde, curly hairs and on the top by a thicker carpet of the same. Her clit bulged out almost like a small nipple. He inhaled deeply of her scent, relishing its clean, musky odor, and then, without warning, he plunged his tongue inside of her.

  "Ohhhh, yesssss!" she screamed, her hips raising up from the bed for an instant.

  He licked up and down the length of her pussy, gathering her juice on his tongue, loving the slippery texture of her membranes. He lapped at her like a starving cat at a bowl of milk, his saliva dripping from his mouth, making her even wetter, even slipperier. She moaned and bucked on the bed, her legs moving back and forth seemingly of their own volition, her hands moving over his head and the back of his neck, urging him on.

  He paused for a moment (over her vocal protest) to pull the panties off of her and drop them on the floor and then he dove right back in, licking and sucking, tasting and smelling. He slid two fingers inside of her and began to move them in and out while his mouth moved upward and began to lick at the hood of her clit, swirling around and around, occasionally stabbing at the sensitive organ itself. Each time he contacted it Christine's legs would tighten against his back, her fingers would tug at his hair, and her mouth would utter a delighted moan of pleasure. When he added a third finger to her pussy and locked his lips onto her clit and began attacking it with his tongue, she did not last long. She bucked wildly against him, forcing him to hold tightly to her with his free hand to keep his mouth where it belonged. No sooner had her bucks and spasms stopped then he went at her again, starting back at the slit and eventually moving to the clit, drawing a second and then a third orgasm from her body. By the time he pulled his head from her crotch she was sweaty and hardly capable of speech.

  "Oh God," she moaned, squirming back and forth on the bed. "I had no idea that could feel so good. Come here." She held her arms out to him. "Kiss me."

  Still fully clothed he climbed atop her naked body, his hands caressing everywhere. She pulled his face to hers and plunged her tongue into his mouth, sucking his tongue obscenely, relishing the lingering taste of her own body. Next she sucked his lips into her mouth, first the bottom and then the top, and then she began to lap at the skin around his mouth.

  "Mmmmm," she hummed, "it's so nice to do this while we're clean. Your skin tastes so good, Skip." Her wet tongue lapped at him some more, moving from his face down to his neck. Her hands went beneath his shirt, to his bare back and her fingernails began scratching lightly at him in a way she knew he liked.

  "Let me get these clothes off," he told her, pulling away. Reluctantly, she let him go.

  He was naked in a flash, his jeans, shirt, and underwear flying off into an untidy heap behind him. His erection was tremendous, sticking upward at a sixty-degree angle, the head purple and moist with pre-come. Christi
ne's eyes looked at it hungrily. Her hands reached out to touch it, sliding up and down its length. Her legs opened wider. "Fuck me, Skip," she told him. "Fuck me in this bed."

  "You know it," he said, once again climbing atop her. For the first time in their relationship they had the freedom to perform the act as it should be performed, with no constricting sleeping bag pinning them down, with no need to keep their grunts and groans quiet to avoid waking Jack. He grabbed her legs at the thighs and pushed them backwards, spreading her as wide as was physically possible. Since she had been a cheerleader used to stretching, that was pretty wide indeed. Her juicy opening gaped before him, begging for his entry. He did not disappoint. He put the head against her and slid smoothly in with one thrust, sinking to the bottom, feeling the head of his cock pushing against her cervix.

  "Yessss!" she cried, arching her back beneath him, trying to draw him even deeper. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Skip!"

  He fucked her hard. Keeping her legs pushed backward he slammed in and out of her with vigor, his balls slapping against her ass with each stroke. Juices poured out of her and soaked into the Mickress beneath them. A wet, squishing noise joined the sound of their grunts of effort and pleasure. He pounded into her as he never had before, quickly working up a sweat in the muggy air. As the droplets fell from his face onto hers, she lapped at them with her tongue.

  He only lasted about five minutes in her tightness before his orgasm hit him like a freight train, blasting jets and jets of sperm into her body. When he finally collapsed atop her, panting like a dog, slick with perspiration, his heart hammering in his chest, he knew that he would never be able to give up the pleasure her body gave him. Though this session had been among the shortest that they'd shared over the past week, it had undoubtedly been the most passionate and it had only hinted at the unrestrained passion of the future that they could share now that they had a bedroom to themselves.

  "Oh, Skip," she said into his ear as her hands traced idle circles over the moist skin of his back. "It just keeps getting better and better. I never dreamed when I let Stan Corban screw me in the back of his dad's car that it could feel this good."

  "No?" Skip, still panting a little, asked her. "Stan didn't do a good job of it?"

  "No," she said. "In fact, I was about to give up on sex after that. It hurt like hell when he crammed that thing in me. And then it only got worse. I'd always read that it was supposed to be a little pain followed by the most intense pleasure. Instead it was a lot of pain followed by even worse pain when he started to jam it in and out."

  "You can't always believe what you read, can you?"

  "No shit. At least it didn't last very long. He made it about ten strokes before he shot off." She giggled. "And his orgasm triggered an asthma attack. He had to climb off me and get his inhaler."

  Skip chuckled. "Poor Stan," he said. "But it's understandable. If you'd have given yourself to me when I was... what? Sixteen?"

  "Seventeen," she said. "He was seventeen and the star pitcher of the baseball team."

  "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Skip said with another chuckle. "Anyway, if you would've let me have you when I was seventeen - which I doubt you would have, I was kind of skinny and nerdy looking - I probably wouldn't have even made it in before I shot off. That's how beautiful you are, Chris. That's how much of a fantasy you are. You can't blame the guy. He must've had incredible control to make it even ten strokes with you at seventeen."

  She grinned at him. "That's not the most romantic thing that I've ever heard one person say to another," she told him. "But it's strangely arousing all the same."

  "The truth often is," he told her, feeling himself starting to twitch within her body once again - a process she helped along by rotating her hips back and forth.

  "How about another one?" she asked, widening the rotation of her circles. "We've got a night to make up for, after all."

  He continued to grow within her, waves of pleasure starting to radiate outward. "We do have to be back to the community center soon. Jack will be waking up and then there's dinner and the vote tonight."

  "We'll make it a quick one then," she said, nibbling on his neck.

  "A quick one it is," he said lowering his lips to hers. "After all, they might kick us out tonight. It might be our last chance to do it in a bed."

  "Then let's do it right," she told him. "Let's do it right."

  Their mouths locked together in a kiss of passion once more and soon he was back up to a full erection. He began to move within her once more, moving slower, drawing it out. They did it right.

  Part 5

  "Right here is perfect," Skip told Paul as they stood atop of the hill. "I could not have placed this high ground in a better place. Just look at the view!"

  "It is very impressive," Paul agreed, looking out towards town.

  The hill was on the northeast side of the town, about a half mile from the corner of the concrete wall and about a quarter mile from the eastbound lanes of Interstate 80 to the north. The summit of the rocky, sparsely vegetated rise stood approximately 400 feet above the surrounding terrain. This offered a panoramic view of the entire wall as it stretched away to the south, and most of it as it stretched away to the west. The roofs of Garden Hill, clumped together in geometric patterns, a few of the chimneys spouting smoke, could nearly all be seen from this vantage point.

  It was four days after the town vote that had accepted the trio into Garden Hill and made Skip the new head of security. As had been predicted in advance, the only nays that had been shouted out had come from Jessica and Dale. Now, on his third day at his new job, Skip was scouting out new guard post locations. The hill they were on was one that he had pegged as a likely candidate on his first trip around the area.

  "It's more than impressive," Skip said excitedly. "It's perfect. It slopes gently on our side, making it easy to get guards up and down, but it is very steep on the I-80 side, making it hard for outsiders to climb from that angle. To the west we can see the most likely avenue of approach from this side - namely, crossing the freeway and moving over those low hills. To the east," he pointed that way, "we can see the only chokepoint people can move through to approach us from that side."

  "You mean the freeway surface?" Paul asked.

  "Right," Skip said. "The interstate starts to climb up this mountain towards Donner Summit right there. They blasted a cut right between those steep cliffs." He pointed to that spot, which was just over a mile away. "There is no way in hell that anyone could come at us from the east without either rappelling down those cliffs or coming through that sixty-foot gap where the roadway goes through. From this vantage point, we can keep a constant lookout on that chokepoint, at least during the daylight hours. This will not only secure us from the north but from the east as well since it won't be possible for anyone to slip along the east side of the wall without being seen. Since our southern flank is secured by the canyon, there is no need to keep a guard post on the east anymore as long as this hill and the bridge approach is covered."

  Paul nodded slowly, starting to see what he was talking about. As strange of an idea as it was to leave an entire side of the subdivision unguarded, it made sense. Nobody would be able to get over to that side unless they first passed in view of this post or came across the bridge. "It's kind of rocky up here," he said. "What would it take to build a bunker?"

  "About ten people with shovels," he answered. "It would take maybe two days worth of work. Dig down about four feet and put up some sandbags over here behind these rocks. Cover it up with some kind of canvas or plastic material and put mud and dirt on top of that for camouflage. I'd have two guards in here during the day, both with scoped rifles and one of the M-16s. They'd have at least a hundred rounds of .30-caliber ammo and four hundred of 5.56 mm. That way, if we're attacked in force from this side or if someone tries to take their hill, they'll be able to fight them off either until they surrender or we can get reinforcements up to them. Maybe we can even rig some sort of rope an
d bucket system to get more ammo up to them if they need it."

  "Very ambitious," Paul said, reaching under his rain slicker and pulling out a cigarette. He spent a moment fiddling with a lighter beneath his hood before he finally got it going. "I wish I could tell you that you have a chance of getting Jessica and Dale to approve a work detail like that, or a major change in the deployment plan."

  Skip sighed, knowing his companion was right. In only three days he had had nearly every change, nearly every improvement, nearly every policy he wished implemented, voted down by the alliance of Jessica and Dale. It had been stipulated that any changes he wished to make would need to be discussed with the committee first and then voted on. This, in effect, made him almost useless at his job. No Micker how carefully he explained the need for something, no Micker how concisely he presented his case, they both voted no on whatever his proposal was. Dismantling the catwalk on the bridge had been shot down. Moving the guard positions backwards to at least cover the catwalk exit better had been shitcanned as well. Putting up signs on likely approaches to the wall that warned outsiders not to approach or they would be shot; that had been voted down too, despite his conservative estimate that it would cut their ammunition usage by more than two-thirds.

  It had been that vote that had really infuriated him. "Why?" he had demanded of them as they sat smirking in their chairs. "What possible reason do you have for not allowing warning signs along the wall?"

  "It puts us in a position where we appear weak," Jessica had said. "I think the cost of a few extra rounds fired is more than worth the image we portray to those scavengers out there."

  "That make absolutely no sense," he'd cried. "Where in the hell did you come up with that?"