Kiss My Apocalips Ch. 01

We were in a bedroom now, and I looked around nervously. There were pictures of vines and flowers and grapes everywhere. Wallpaper. Nobody ever used it anymore. An open door revealed another bathroom. The huge king-sized bed took up most of the space, and it was unmade, the covers tossed aside on both the left and right sides. She gave my chest a big shove, and I didn't resist as the backs of my knees came in contact with the mattress and I sat down on it.

She took another deep breath and turned toward the inner bath. "I have to freshen up," she said.

Well, THAT seemed a little anticlimactic! "Why?"

She poked her head out and glared at me. "Because, just being around you has made me all squishy. I want to feel clean for you."

"What?"

"Don't argue!" she ordered. The door slammed.

I didn't know how to take that. "Don't flush," I told her, more or less out of spite.

The door opened and her head reappeared. "Why not? The water works." I heard the sink running.

"Not for long. Out this far, they've got to be on well water."

She looked really confused now. "So ... if there's a well ...."

"Wells need pumps. Pumps are electric. The power's off. There's a small pressure tank somewhere, but once it's empty, no more water."

"Smart aleck." The door slammed again. I sat there staring at the damn wallpaper.

And the door opened. And she was standing there. And she was naked.

"Holy shit!" I don't remember standing up.

She was flush, her eyes downcast, her mouth open, as if she wouldn't be able to get enough air if she closed it. Her posture was both slightly awkward and incredibly erotic, her hands down near her crotch, her weight on her left leg, while her right knee was very slightly bent, the toe of her right foot pointing slightly inward. Her areolas were much darker than the surrounding flesh of her breasts, and the equally dark nipples were hard and appeared to be pointing right at my face. This presented a rather odd dynamic, because the deep breaths she was taking made them slowly, rhythmically expand and swell, but those nipples never shifted their accusatory aim.

I took a few steps forward, and her hands fell to her sides, her palms slightly forward, as if she were a morning flower, opening up, hoping to be picked and enjoyed.

"So beautiful," I murmured. I reached out with both hands and put them on her bare sides.

"Aaaaand, just like that," she whispered. "All squishy again." She shifted her weight to her other foot and leaned into me.

I put my arms around her. "Please tell me you're not going back in that bathroom."

"The only thing I'm going to do now," she said softly, working her hands up underneath the bottom of my short-sleeved shirt, "is whatever you want me to." She kept tugging and pulling on the shirt until I put my hands over my head. She didn't seem to have the reach to get the job done, so I grabbed the back of the collar and jerked the garment over my head. She ran her palms over the bare skin of my chest. "Oooohhh my God!" she hissed.

"Um ... I don't have any ... um ... protection."

She moved her left upper arm back and forth a little. "I have an implant. Good for a year. It was changed in June."

"Changed," I muttered, sliding my hand forward and caressing her left breast, causing her to moan. "You have a boyfriend."

She drew back and looked imploringly at me. "No. Not a boyfriend. I've never had a boyfriend. And please, please don't make me think about HIM right now. I'll tell you later. Not now. Please."

I nodded and lowered my face toward hers. As soon as she saw the kiss coming, she threw her arms around my neck, standing on tiptoes and grinding her torso against me wantonly. There were too many feelings attacking me simultaneously, too many stimuli, too many emotions. Yes, her tongue was definitely prodding my lips, so I opened my mouth and it was suddenly making itself at home, cuddling with my own. My cock was rock hard, and her pelvis, rubbing against it to the right and left, up and down, was almost more that I could take. I pushed her away, gasping for breath.

"I ... I don't ... want ... not yet ... I ...."

She seemed to understand immediately. "Can you hold it?" she asked. She seemed sincere.

"I ... I think so."

She nodded. "Good. I want your first time with me to be inside. Take off your pants."

I felt clumsy and stupid. I tried to take off my sneakers without untying them, but they were too tight, and I had to fumble with the laces for a minute. Then the socks. Finally, I stripped the pants and underwear from myself, and she pushed me again toward the bed.

"Let me be on top this first time. Then you can have me any way you want. I'll do whatever you say." I lay back, and she straddled my hips, her knees on either side of my waist. I reached up and cupped her breasts, and she thrust her chest into my hands while reaching down and grasping my cock.

"Oh, shit!" I hissed.

"Hold it! Just for another second!"

I felt tight liquid heat surrounding me.

Her eyes were open, and she bore a shocked expression. "So full!" she told me, staring me right in the eyes. "Oh, God! So big! It feels like you're going to come out my navel!"

"Wanda! Wanda, I'm ...."

"Yes, Jacob! Now! Fill me up now!"

"Aaaahhh!" I clutched her slim body to my own and lost track of everything. Every muscle in my body seemed to be straining, all on their own. It had never been like this in the shower, ever. Fluid seemed to blast from me, unbidden and uncontrolled. My entire soul was at the mercy of this small, erotic girl. Slowly, slowly, my consciousness returned, and I relaxed my grip on her. "I ... I ... couldn't hold it. I'm sorry it happened so quickly."

She kept her face buried in the side of my neck, holding me as best she could. "God, Jacob, you're still throbbing so deep inside me."

I put my hands on her breasts and pushed until she was sitting upright, though she was still astride me, and we were still connected, my penis softening slowly inside her. "Tell me how to please you," I commanded.

She smiled. "You pleased me immensely. You still are."

"You didn't cum," I told her matter-of-factly. "Tell me how to make you cum."

The smile turned wistful. "You're so sweet."

I gripped her more tightly, letting her know I wanted an answer. She seemed a little startled by that, but the corners of her mouth were still arched slightly upward. "The only way I ever have an orgasm is if I give it to myself. I have to rub my clit."

"Where?" I demanded harshly. I reached down between us and explored her pussy where we were joined.

She lowered her hands and grasped my right one in both of hers. Patiently, she pushed against my individual fingers until only my middle one was extended; then she pulled it upward, away from my prick, until it had reached the top of her slit. I felt the soft, wet bump, and her breath caught while her body jerked. "There," she whispered.

"How?" I queried. I stroked it, top-to-bottom and back again. She shivered and her inner muscles clenched around my cock. "Like this?" I asked her.

"Ooooo."

"This?" I changed assault tactics and ran my fingertip side-to-side, more quickly and firmly than previously, and those muscles inside her gripped me hard, then relaxed, then gripped again.

"Jacob! Aaaah! Aaaah!"

"This?" I started rubbing the little nubbin in a circular pattern, pressing hard. At the same time, I reached up with my left hand and pinched her right nipple with a great deal of strength.

"Her eyes flew open, seemingly staring at nothing at all; while her mouth formed a soundless "O." Her fluttering pussy was the only part of her body moving for many seconds, and then her body convulsed hard, and she issued a "HUH!" sort of noise, as if somebody had hit her hard from behind. She began to shake.

I did a sit-up in the bed, let go of her, put my arms around the center of her body, and smoothly flipped us both over so that I was lying atop her. Her body continued to contort beneath my own, and her spasming passageway had long since coaxed my cock back to full attention. The way I held her forced her arms above my own, and she snaked them around my neck. Slowly, I began pulling back and thrusting forward, sliding smoothly into her while setting up a cadence that I swore I could keep up forever.

I felt fingers in my hair and lips at my ear. "So good," she moaned dreamily. "Oh, so good."

I had a thought, and I leaned forward hard at the bottom of every downward thrust, grinding my pubis into hers. Her breath seemed to catch, so I kept it up for a minute, and her body stiffened as she grunted and cried out in my ear: "Oh, God! Here I go again!"

And that was it for me, too. All in all, after that first condensed countdown to blastoff, I thought I'd done pretty well the second time around. The orgasm wasn't nearly as hard as before, and I thought it was more of a warm, wonderful wave washing over me, rather than the mind-wiping explosion the first had been.

But that moment of self-congratulatory reflection was short-lived when I heard a sniff and felt wetness on my neck. I quickly rolled off her, finally pulling out of her, and I gathered her into a hug. "Did I hurt you?" I tried to look her in the eye, but she avoided me. "I hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

She slapped me in the center of the chest with her flat palm. "Shut up! You didn't hurt me!"

"You're crying! What did I do? I ... I thought it was wonderful! But I ...."

She slapped my chest again. "Shut up! It WAS wonderful! Nothing's the matter."

"Ah," I said, nodding. "My uncanny powers of deduction are surfacing again. Nothing is wrong, and yet you are crying. I am beginning to sense the presence of a logical fallacy."

This slap was delivered half-heartedly. But instead of winding up her slapping arm again, she began tracing circles in my chest hair. "I am screwed up," she said, mostly to herself. "I am SO screwed up."

"Gee. I was just thinking that you're a fantastic, beautiful, wonderful girl."

She snuck a peek at my face, but frowned and quickly returned to tracing patterns on my chest.

"Tell me what's wrong," I ordered firmly.

She signed. "I'm falling in love, you big oaf! With a high school jock, of all people!"

"I am NOT a jock!"

She looked up at me again. "You're not?"

"Nope. Never played a sport in my life."

"You're built like a jock."

"I'm not a jock!"

"All right!" She sighed and shrugged. "But that's not really the point, anyway. I'm still screwed up." She stopped tracing patterns and rested the side of her face against my chest. "The truth of the matter is: the world has ended, and I think it's been the best day of my whole life!"

TO BE CONTINUED