Fucking Zombie Bitches Ch. 01

The good thing about the Zombie Apocalypse is that all human belongings were now up for grabs for the few that survived. And so I spent the first few weeks just breaking into abandoned villas in the rich part of town, going through the stuff of other people who were most likely dead, or otherwise unlikely to return.

The first thing I really missed was electricity. The power grid would hold up for a few days by itself, and then would go down in the part of town I stayed in. At night, I could still see some lights in another part of town, but never went there to investigate. Without electricity there was no light, no refrigeration, no cooking unless it was with gas.

There was plenty of food still. Suddenly, the supplies of thousands of people were left for just me - or a handful of others I don't know - so there was no shortage of preserves, cereal, anything that would last without refrigeration. I found a few places with gas stoves and could stay there for a good while, just living off supplies from neighbouring houses and playing with other people's things I found in their homes.

The bad thing about the Zombie Apocalypse were the Zombies. I kept my distance from them, never tried to engage one and stuck to well-fortified homes that were surrounded by high walls and were clear of them. The owners had either fled after the outbreak, or were out of home when it hit. And so the Zombies were just a distant groan, outside, at night, that would wake me up occasionally and make me check the doors and windows, but nothing more.

Weirdly during those first days I had a great time. The pressure of civilization was gone, and I enjoyed searching all these rich homes, seeing things I've never seen before and living free and uninhibited. I didn't bother putting on clothes when I stayed inside and spent a lot of time masturbating. Luckily, there was a large supply of batteries, vibrators and other toys to be found - you wouldn't believe the kinky tastes some of those people had - and the thought of stuffing another woman's dildo up my twat turned me on even more.

After a while, though, the thrill let on and I had to think about what to do in the long term. Humans are social animals, and even though I enjoyed being alone maybe more than most other people, I knew it would turn me crazy sooner or later if I couldn't find someone else. Of course, it would do me no good to die at the bite of a Zombie while I was out there looking, and so I spent a few days planning the safest approach at finding survivors.

I figured it would be best to stay on the water. Zombies seemed to be unable to swim and it would allow me to travel safely. Also, a boat would probably draw attention of any other intelligent being around and thus would enhance my chances of discovery. Of course, that could be a bad thing, depending on how hostile the other survivors would be.

So in order to defend myself I spent several days practising my shooting skills. Even though guns were outlawed for the most part where I live, I found that most rich people had some kind of weapon in their home. I gathered a few handguns, rifles, an antique scimitar, and as much ammunition as I could find. There was a shooting range in one of the basements that came in handy and once I figured out which ammo belonged to which weapon, which of them I could handle best and which other gun would make a good replacement, I finally packed my bags.

I was careful not to carry too much, and so only packed two handguns, carrying them in holsters that crossed between my breasts. Another belt around my waist could hold several clips of ammunition for quick reloading, and the scimitar came with its own ornate belt and sheath that I put on as well. Since it was the Zombie Apocalypse, and summer in Italy, I didn't wear much other clothing, as I figured nobody I encountered would care about my exposed breasts or pantiless crotch. So the only other articles of clothing I put on were a pair of green jogging pants, some running shoes, a white loose shirt and a wide white summer hat against the heat.

In my backpack I had a pair of jeans and a sweater, just in case it would get cold, as well as enough food for a week, a few tools that weren't too bulky, maps, chalk, a compass, batteries, a flashlight, matches, lighters, a few candles, a GPS system and as much ammo as I could carry. And so one day, as the sun went down in the fourth week after the outbreak, I left.

The good thing about Zombies is that most of the time you could hear them long before you could see them. I stuck to the back alleys and side streets as I made my way down to the river, listening to any sound, evading anything that seemed suspicious and made more detours than I can remember. With the map I kept from getting lost, but it got dark much earlier than I expected, and so I scrambled to look for a good place for the night.

Rooftops and high places proved to be best, and so I went through an abandoned apartment building up onto the roof and made camp there. There were groaning noises coming from some of the apartments as I passed them, so I was glad when the door to the rooftop was metal and sturdy looking, and I fastened the handle with one of the tools, making it hard to open from the other side.

Before I laid down, I took a cautionary tour of the roof, making sure no Zombie was hidden there somewhere and then stopped at the edges, looking out across the town beneath me, dark shadows scuffling along the streets occasionally. I sighed, pulling down my pants and spreading my legs, emptying my bladder across the curb, hoping to hit at least some of those fuckers with my piss.

Suddenly, as I stood there, pee spraying out of my sticky labia, I saw a light flash in another building not too far from where I was. It looked not like the lights in the still lit part of town, but more like a flashlight, turning on and off at irregular intervals and seeming to point at different directions. Too cautious and afraid to go there at night, I tried to memorize the position and mark it on the map to explore it the next day.

In the morning I woke up with one of the candles still inside my pussy, having played with them in the night before I went to sleep. I cursed the lack of foresight and toilet paper, making a mental note to ravage somebody's bathroom at the next possible occasion. Hygiene has become a luxury, as running water became increasingly scarce. I had not showered in weeks, and most of all missed washing my hair. So, next mission: Bathroom.

I had a can of peaches for breakfast before I made my way back down the same staircase from which I came. No Zombies had wandered in there over night and so I could resume my path through the streets and alleys, heading for the building I thought the light had been coming from the night before. It was warm, and though I only wore light clothing, it was soon drenched in sweat. I tried to stay in the shade, as my pale skin is very sensitive to sunlight, being a redhead and all.

Down a few blocks of buildings, I found the first dead Zombies. Someone had pierced their foreheads, leaving an ugly gaping hole. They littered the street, rotting in the summer heat, the stench almost taking my breath away. It was impossible to determine how long they had been dead, but I followed the trail of bodies to another, smaller, apartment complex.

The door was shut, but I could climb up a balcony and enter one of the apartments. Inside it was quiet, no sounds of Zombies or anything else, but I remained cautious. If this was the building I saw the light from earlier, somebody might still be around, and I didn't want them to find me before I found them. I snuck around the room, listening into the silence of the building, until I suddenly heard a rumbling sound coming from above.

I went out into the staircase, crouched, my gun drawn from its holster, sneaking quietly up the stairs. In the back of my mind, a small voice told me how ridiculous this was - like I would be able to shoot someone as untrained, slow and chubby as I was, but feeling the heavy handle of the weapon in my hand made me feel safe at the very least.

When I reached the next floor, I could hear some more noises coming from an apartment just across the hall. It sounded like doors opening and closing, and someone speaking in a language I didn't recognize. I got to the door I thought it was coming from and listened. Inside, someone was moving, mumbling words. It was a female voice, but the language sounded foreign. It certainly wasn't anything I understood.

I waited until the noise was further away from the door, then quietly tried to open it. It was locked. I tried the adjacent apartments, finding one I could enter and went through it to the balcony outside the building. I left my backpack there and climbed across to the other balcony and peeked through the door. Inside it was dark, but I could make out a living room with a few chairs and a sofa, and the shadow of someone laying down on it.

The balcony door was half open, probably to let some air into the room, and so I quietly opened it wider and snuck inside. Coming closer to the sofa, I saw the dark, chocolate brown legs of a tall, black woman laying on her back, squirming slightly. She was probably in her mid-20s, with short, curly hair, her eyes closed in ecstasy. When I raised my head, I saw her hand between the legs, rubbing fervently across her clit. I lowered my gun. She seemed unarmed and I didn't want to give the wrong first impression.

Slowly I got up. At first, she didn't seem to notice me, but suddenly she shrieked, jerking up and staring at me. She was pretty, with strong, stern features defining her long face. Her breasts were covered by a short red blouse, but even through that I could see that they were impressively large. She wore no other clothing, her crotch sporting a thick black bush of pubic hair, almost covering all of her swollen labia.

"I'm sorry," I said in German and Italian, the languages spoken in the area.

She glared at me still, as if she didn't understand me. "Who are you?" she finally asked me in English with a thick accent.

"Kathrin," I answered. "My name is Kathrin."

She eyed me up and down, her eyes fixed on the weapons. "What you want, Kathrin?" she continued to ask.

I shrugged. "I just saw your flashlight last night and wanted to see who you were. I've been... alone, the past weeks."

She nodded. "Rebekka," she finally said, holding out her hand. "I'm Rebekka."

I shook her hand, noticing her fingers still slippery from her crotch. "What're you doing here?" I asked curiously.

She shrugged. "What's anyone doing?" she replied. "Fighting these pigs outside, trying to survive, ..." She paused, looking down at her exposed crotch, only now realizing that she was naked in front of a stranger.

I smiled, stepping closer to her. "I know," I said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know how it is." I knelt down beside her and ran my fingers across her short, frizzy hair as I leaned in. My hand wandered down to rest on one of her large, heavy breasts as I kissed her gently.

She gasped. I pulled her blouse open and let her tits fall out. They were massive, heavy and saggy, with areolas as big as a cup. I grabbed them with both hands, squeezing and pinching her nipples as my head wandered down between her legs, longing for that wet pussy I saw earlier.

I began sucking her without warning, pulling her whole labia deep inside my mouth and lapping her juices from between them with my tongue. My nose was buried in her thick bush, smelling her almost intoxicating cunt fragrance. I wanted to leave a good first impression and licked her diligently, rubbing her clit hard. She came soon, already aroused from playing with herself earlier. Her body arched and she thrashed around, squeaking as she came, some white secretions running out of her.

"Mmmmh," she said after she had caught her breath. "That was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time." She sat up and looked me in the eyes. "Please, let me repay the favour."

I smiled at her, pushing down my pants slowly until they fell to my ankles. She clicked her tongue as she saw the ginger bush that crowned my pale white pussy hole. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "That's up to you," I said. "Anything you're comfortable with."

She shook her head. "I need you to tell me," she insisted. "I want to serve you in any way you like, and I want you to use me."

She certainly was moving fast with this, but I think we both figured it was the end of the world, and there was no time for courtesies. That, and the fact that I still needed a bathroom, finally made me tell her with trembling voice: "Drink my piss."

She fell to her knees and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue. I closed my eyes and let it go, feeling the relief as my bladder spurted, almost painfully, showering her curly hair and sweet face with piss. I heard it fill her mouth, listened to her swallow and finally looked down again, where a yellow-golden stream ran out from underneath my bush, splashing against her lips while she looked up at me with big, obedient eyes.

When I had finished, she licked my pussy, slowly, her wet tongue running all across my labia. She arched back, rubbing her big tits along my twat, her hard nipples pinching my clit. I moaned at her touch, and grinned as she looked at me, unsure of what to do next. "Get up," I said, quiet, but commanding. She obeyed, but was a little surprised by my roughness as I grabbed her by her collar and pushed her out of the balcony door, bending her over the railing so her big tits were dangling down.

From behind, her sweaty, hairy muff looked even more appetizing and I bent down to lick it again, this time sliding my tongue between her buttocks as well. She groaned, quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the few Zombies that walked the street below. I grew more aggressive, wanting to show her who her new boss was, and so I pulled the scimitar from its sheath. I ran the dull side along her soft black ass, the cold metal causing goosebumps on her skin. Then I thrust it up her cunt by the hilt.

She grunted, as the thick, long handle pushed up her muff, causing her wet fuck hole to make smacking noises as it went in and out. The bar coiled all around with bronze wires that made it rough in hand and prevented it from slipping, and got increasingly thicker around the middle. I saw it spread her rosy red pussy lips wider and wider and could only wonder about how it must feel going inside her.

She could hardly breathe, getting her hole fucked like that from behind, but soon lost all self control and started yelling, telling me to treat her like the dirtiest of whores: "God, yes, fuck that black cunt! Fuck me good, lady, use me like the stupid fuck slut I am. God, I'm such a filthy fuck hole, I'm only good to serve as your toy, drinking your piss and serving your sweet cunt."

She held fast onto the railing and pushed back as I rammed the handle all the way inside her hairy black muff, fucking her violently. She came, again, yelling loudly as she sank to her knees. I pulled the scimitar out and held her from behind as she sank to the floor, whimpering and trembling, tears streaming down her face as she orgasmed, her pussy sputtering cum that collected into a puddle below her. We kissed, and I rocked her gently, happy to have found her, happy to have the perfect companion to brave the end of the world.