The day after: An apocalyptic morning

by Jessy Cruise

"No," Maggie sighed, her hands going to Christine's hair. "We shouldn't."

  Christine pushed her to the floor on her back, landing her in the pile of towels. Her mouth never left her nipple as she performed this maneuver and she ended up lying partially atop of her. "Shut up, Mags," she said from around the nipple. She went back to licking at it with her tongue.

  Maggie snuggled into the towels and enjoyed the blissful sensation of her nipples being suckled. Though they were not as sensitive as they had been before her breast enhancement surgery (or, boob job if you prefer the non-PC term), they were still equipped with enough nerve endings to send tingles down to her vulva and clitoris. She ran her fingers through Christine's hair and only protested a little when Christine took off her own shirts and bra.

  "I like to feel my boobs against yours," Christine told her, lying down atop of her. "And I like to kiss you. You're a good kisser."

  "Oh, Christine," Maggie cried as she leaned forward and put her mouth against hers.

  They slid their tongues together passionately, slipping them in and out of each other's mouths, sucking on each other's lips while their nipples ground together. Maggie ran her hands up and down the soft, bare flesh of Christine's back while Christine plunged her hands through Maggie's hair.

  "I can never resist it when you kiss me," Maggie said breathlessly when the kiss broke for a moment. "You drive me crazy, Christine."

  "I know," she said, licking at her upper lip, giving the tip of her nose a soft nibble. "And now, I'm going to take those pants off of you and give you what you really want."

  "Ohhhh," Maggie moaned, pushing her downward.

  She felt the buckle of her belt being opened, felt the icy coolness of the metal touching her stomach. She felt Christine's hands fumbling with the button on her jeans and finally opening it. The zipper slid slowly down on its track and then Christine's warm fingers were in the waistband, grabbing the jeans and the panties at one stroke. She lifted her hips so they could be pulled off. A moment later she was naked. She spread her legs, feeling the wetness between them, waiting for the exquisite touch upon her pussy.

  Usually Christine teased her for a while first, licking her thighs and blowing soft air on her vaginal lips until Maggie actually had to beg for her mouth. This time she didn't bother. No sooner had the pants been discarded behind her than Maggie felt that blonde hair tickling her thighs, felt that wonderful tongue lapping up and down her slit. She moaned and raised her hips, increasing the pressure. Oh God, how guilty she felt when she did this. But oh God, how heavenly it felt. Christine ate pussy as if she had been born to do it, as if she had been doing it all of her life.

  "Oh yesss," Maggie moaned. "Oh, Christine, that's so good."

  "Mmmmph," Christine mumbled from between her legs.

  So far Maggie had never returned the favor for Christine. She would bring her off with her fingers while sucking on her boobs, but she had not been able to gather the courage to actually put her mouth upon a vagina. To do so would mean that she was really a lesbian, wouldn't it? Christine hadn't pushed her on this unequal game of give and take, not yet. Maggie wondered how long it would be until that changed. True she really was curious what it would be like to eat another woman - she always had been - but when push came to shove, she just... just couldn't.

  She had no idea that just on the other side of the storeroom door was someone who was going to help push the issue.

  Paula had finally found the distinctive scrunchy hanging from the doorknob after first checking just about every other damn storage room in the building. Christine had worn that particular scrunchy on purpose, knowing that Maggie was bound to break and ask for a session this night, wanting something to signal her partner in crime with.

  Paula smiled, feeling wetness between her own legs as she heard a soft, passionate moan come drifting through the wood. It sounded like Christine was doing her usual good job in there. Since licking Paula that first time, Christine had become a pussy-eating machine of admirable efficiency. She could deliver an orgasm quick and hard, with less than three minutes of licking and sucking, or slow and soft, with more than twenty. It sounded like she was about halfway between the two at the moment. Paula was very anxious to join the fun.

  She put away the penlight she had been using for navigation through the building and slowly turned the doorknob until it stopped. She pulled softly on the door, taking care not to allow it to squeak. When it was about two feet open she stepped inside, sliding the door back shut behind her. In the faint candlelight she could see the erotic sight of Christine, still in her jeans but absent of clothing above the waist, lying with her head between Maggie's widely spread legs. Her blonde head moved back and forth and wet, slurping sounds drifted from the junction. The smell of musk was very heavy in the unventilated room, giving Paula an extra little charge of excitement. Maggie herself had her eyes tightly closed and was completely unaware of the additional presence in the room. Her fake boobs heaved slowly as she rolled her body back and forth to the rhythm of Christine's tongue. Paula couldn't wait to get her hands and mouth on those boobs. She had never sampled fake ones before and was curious about them - especially after being told by Christine how different they were.

  She quickly and silently undid her shirt and dropped it to the floor. Her T-shirt and her bra joined it a moment later. It was the jingling of her belt that finally gave her away. As her pants dropped it sent it's musical chime into the air and Maggie's eyes opened with a start.

  "Oh my God," she squealed, her panicky hands pushing Christine away from her. "This isn't what it looks like!"

  "No?" Paula said with a smile, continuing to step out of her pants and panties, until she too was nude. "It looks like there's some fun going on in this room. Or am I wrong?"

  "Hi, Shellie," Christine said casually, as if nothing unusual was going on. "Did you need to talk to me to?"

  "In a bad way," Paula said with a grin.

  "What are you doing in here?" Maggie asked, covering her breasts with her arm. "Why are you naked?"

  " Christine's my wife," Paula said simply, walking over to the two of them and kneeling down. "We share everything. Don't we, Christine?"

  "Everything," Christine agreed.

  "I'll leave you guys alone," Maggie croaked, trying to get up and keep her body covered at the same time. "I... well... things kind of got out of hand here. I should just..."

  "You should just lay back," Christine said, gently pushing her back down. Unlike what was usual, she actually had to apply some force this time. "Enjoy the fun. Believe me, three is better than two."

  "No," Maggie said. "You don't understand. I'm not really a les... a les... you know?"

  "Neither are we," Paula told her, taking up position between Maggie's legs and looking hungrily at a fresh, new vagina. "We're just playing around because our man happens to be crashed out downstairs at the moment. It's no big."

  "No really," Maggie said. "I don't know what..."

  "Hush," Christine said, helping to hold Maggie's legs apart. She looked at her co-wife. "Give her your best, Shell."

  "You know it," Paula said. With a final lick of her lips she lowered her face down and went to work.

  "Oh God, no, no, no!" Maggie yelled, feeling a strange tongue touching her center. What was going on here? She had just wanted to be held, to be comforted, to talk and now Paula was... was... eating her pussy! But it was only a few seconds before that tongue between her legs, despite its strangeness (or perhaps because of it) began to feel really good. Paula was aggressive in her licks, going so far as to plunge in and out. And her hands! Her hands were working on her boobs while she ate, pinching the nipples, squeezing the orbs.

  "Feels good, doesn't it, Mags?" Christine asked, letting go of her legs and leaning down to kiss her on the mouth.

  Maggie tasted her own musk on Christine's lips and clinging to her tongue. Without even realizing she was doing it at first, she sucked the tongue into her mouth and licked at her lips. "Oh God," she sa
id helplessly as the sensation of two mouths upon her took her away. "I'm sooo sick."

  No one agreed or disagreed with her assessment of her mental health. They just continued to make love to her. Paula began lapping at her engorged clitoris, driving Maggie nearly insane it felt so good. Christine broke the kiss and then attacked her breasts, pushing one of Paula's hands out of the way to take a nipple into her mouth. It was less than a minute before the first orgasm went rolling through her body, hitting her like a highballing freight train. She screamed loud enough for Jenny, Carrie, and Ted down the hall to hear. And still it went on. Paula abandoned her clit for the moment and went back to licking her lips and plunging her tongue in and out. Obviously Paula intended to pull another come from her and knew just how to do it.

  "Oh God," Maggie moaned, running her hands through Paula's hair now. "This is so depraved."

  "And nasty," Christine agreed, sitting back up. "That's why we love it. And it's time for you to get even nastier."

  Maggie barely heard her, so caught up in the sensations going on below was she. But she couldn't fail to notice that Christine was now unbuckling her own pants and pushing them off. "Yes," she said. "Give me your pussy. I'll get you off with my hand."

  "The hand's not got gonna cut it tonight, hon," Christine told her, wriggling out of her pants and panties. "Tonight, I need a little bit more."

  "What... what do you mean?" Maggie panted, her eyes locking onto Christine's blonde bush and the pink, swollen lips peeking out from it.

  "You know what I mean," Christine whispered, sidling a little closer.

  "I... I... I can't..." she stammered. "I've never... I mean I don't..."

  "You want to Maggie," Christine told her, speaking what Maggie knew was the plain and simple truth. "You want to eat my pussy. You just don't want to admit it to yourself. Well now, you're going to." She raised up and swung one knee over her head, forcing Maggie to look at and smell the object of discussion from less than four inches. An actual drop of moisture dripped out of it and onto her face.

  " Christine..." Maggie tried, her voice lacking the slightest bit of conviction, "this is..."

  "This is how it's gonna be," Christine finished for her. And then she lowered herself down, her front facing Paula.

  For Maggie it happened in slow motion. She saw Christine's pussy grow bigger and bigger in her field of view and then suddenly it was pressing down on her face, smearing fragrant wetness over her chin and lips. She tasted the tang of those juices and was overwhelmed by the odor of them. Instinctively her tongue reached out and took the first lick, sliding along the slippery membranes of her inner folds. After that, she was lost. She plunged her tongue inside and began to lap madly. Soon she had Christine panting and sweating from the pleasure.

  For more than an hour they pleasured each other, making love in every possible combination. When Paula and Christine were done ganging up on Maggie, Maggie and Paula ganged up on Christine and then Christine and Maggie did the same to Paula. Every few minutes someone would scream out in orgasm, usually as a result of a mouth on their clitoris while another mouth kissed them or sucked on their nipples. By the time they finally collapsed into a naked, sweaty heap on the floor, exhausted, the room was as hot as a sauna and almost as humid.

  "I'm a lesbian," Maggie said as they cooled off. She was between the two other women, their legs intertwined with hers. "I guess I should just admit it. I'm a fucking lesbian."

  Christine giggled a little, rubbing her thigh against Maggie's.

  "You're not a lesbian," Paula told her lightly, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. "You're just a sexual creature, like we are."

  "But I liked what we did," she protested, shaking her head a little. "Don't you understand? I liked it!"

  "I would hope so," Christine said. "I gave you my best work."

  "Me too," Paula told her. "I think I'd be kicking your ass about now if you told me you didn't like it."

  Maggie was confused, much the same way that Christine had been confused the first time such a thing had happened to her. "But... but..."

  "No buts," Paula said, slapping hers a little. "We just had a little fun between the girls. It's nothing to trip about. It was nice. It was really nice. I like those bolt-on titties of yours, Mags. Very springy."

  "I'm going insane," Maggie said, near tears now. "I'm questioning my sexuality and you're telling me that what we did is normal?"

  "Normal for this reality we find ourselves in," Paula said. "Maggie, we're in a town where not only are there four times as many women as men, but where we all just survived a global catastrophe and where we're all facing a potential town catastrophe. Sometimes pleasures like sex are all we have to keep away the madness we're facing. Don't you understand that?"

  Maggie looked at her, wanting to find comfort in what she was saying but having difficulty.

  "We're just having fun together," Christine said, putting it into simpler terms. "There's so little fun in this world, you just have to catch it when you can. So what if the old world would've thought we were sick for what we just did? The old world is dead. If you enjoy something - smoking pot, drinking, having sex with a woman - why not do it? What's the harm?"

  Maggie knew there had to be some harm in there somewhere. Her religious upbringing had assured her of that. But she just couldn't say what that harm might be.

  "Listen," Paula said, toying with Maggie's nipple and making it erect. "Do you still think you'd like to have a nice hard dick in that pussy?"

  "What?" Maggie said, shocked.

  "Do you still want to get fucked by a man?" Christine re-phrased. "Is that still what you want sexually?"

  "Well..." she considered, imagining a nice, firm cock sliding into her. Yes, that is what she wanted. "Yes," she finally said.

  "So you're not a lesbian," Paula said simply. "You're just a sexual creature. So stop feeling guilty about making love to us. We don't feel guilty."

  "Well..." she said, starting to feel convinced a little.

  "And I think that maybe Skip would be happy to provide that nice hard dick for you," Christine said. "Don't you, Shellie?"

  "I don't think he'd protest too much," Paula agreed.

  She whipped her head back and forth, looking at each of them. "What are you saying?" she finally asked.

  "Well," Paula said, "if Skip's agreeable, maybe you'd like to join in our marriage. What do you think?"

  At almost the same moment, in the gymnasium of the high school in Auburn, a party of sorts was going on. The lights blazed brightly, using almost all of the generator's output but illuminating the large room in wonderful, pre-comet brilliance. The heater cranked away as well, burning many gallons of precious propane but raising the temperature inside to a balmy 72 degrees. Trays of food constructed out of the supply room staples by the kitchen staff sat on a large cafeteria table near the front of the room while bottles of liquor and mixers and buckets of ice sat on a similar table next to it. The table with the liquor was by far the more popular of the two.

  Upwards of two hundred women were in the room, most of them drunk, a few of them actually passed out. Most were sitting on the bleacher seats that had been folded down from the southern wall of the room, watching the "entertainment" that their glorious leader had organized for them. For the most part the women in the room were those closest to Jessica, those that were her inner and outer circles of gossip.

  Madeline had been invited to the party of course. She, as the military leader of the town, was most definitely inside of Jessica's inner circle. She had politely declined the invitation however, citing her ongoing training of the guard details and the security apparatus as an excuse. In reality, she simply thought such a party was a horrible waste of their supplies and the proposed entertainment was nothing short of barbaric. But when three of her nightshift guards failed to show up for their 11:00 PM crew change at the bunkers, she was forced to make an appearance.

  The hoots and cries of intoxicated females echoed throughout the r
oom as she opened the door and entered it. Many of them were shouting: "Cin-dee, Cin-dee, Cin-dee!" over and over again in delightful glee in response to the current "participant" in the games: Cindy Miles. Madeline tried not to watch what was going on in the middle of the auditorium - which was the stage area - but her eyes were automatically drawn to it the way they once were to traffic collisions along the freeway. You didn't want to look but somehow you had to.

  "Oh Jesus," she said, shaking her head in shocked disgust. To hear about what Jessica had planned was one thing. To actually see it taking place... that was quite another.

  A wrestling mat had been placed in the exact center of the gymnasium, right in the circle where the tip-off was performed during basketball games. On his hands and knees on this mat, completely naked, his hands clenched tightly into fists, was Ron Schuyler. His face was currently buried in Tiffany Jenkins' crotch. Tiffany was naked from the waist down and seemed to be semi-enjoying the licking that he was giving her (or perhaps it was the attention of the crowd she enjoyed). But the real focus of the show was Cindy Miles, who was kneeling behind Schuyler. She too was naked except for a large strap-on dildo connected around her waist. The dildo was enormous, probably meant more as a gag-gift than as a practical penile substitute for lesbians, but apparently no one had told Cindy that it was for display purposes only. She was ramming it brutally in and out of Schuyler's anus, using exaggerated pelvic-thrust motions that seemed an obscene parody of the male thrust. Even from sixty feet away Madeline could see that the huge instrument had split him along the perineum. Droplets of blood pattered slowly but steadily to the blue mat, where a puddle had been formed.

  Madeline tore her eyes away at last, knowing that Schuyler would quite possibly die from the injuries that were being inflicted upon him. Tearing the rectum and the tissue around it could easily lead to infection, particularly if the wound was not repaired. And there was no way in hell that Jessica - who had put herself in charge of supply allotment - was ever going to kick loose any of their antibiotics for a man.