Lust In The Time Of Zombies

This is my first attempt at any kind of creative writing, let alone erotic writing, and it was borne of insomnia. I welcome feedback and criticism. If this is well received, I may write more.

It should go without saying that this is 100% fictional, with no intended resemblance to any actual people or events. Either that, or it's a memoir written by a time traveler who survived the zombie apocalypse in 2019; whichever suits you better.

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When the zombie apocalypse hits, everything you know goes out the window. Most worries are forgotten until all that remain are the most immediate needs: food, shelter, ammunition. We knew we hit the jackpot when we found a fully-stocked fallout shelter whose owners had met their unfortunate end before they ever had a chance to use it. Exhausted and relieved, we pushed the bolt home and released the breath we hadn't realized we were holding. We looked at each other then, exchanged a wordless thought, and began moving shelves to barricade the door.

Those doors may be enough to withstand a nuclear bomb, but we weren't about to trust them against that mindless horde.

Only when we were done ensuring our safety did higher-order thought begin to return. I contemplated my companion and reflected on the events that had just transpired. Nearly everyone I knew had died. My husband Andrew and I had lasted pretty long -- long after many, many of our loved ones had perished. Yesterday, though, as we made a break from our previous shelter, one of those monsters grabbed hold of me, and I knew I was done for. Andrew, in one last, brave act, threw himself between the zombie and me, whispering "I love you always" as the beasts began to gnaw. It already felt like that had taken place a decade ago.

Time flies when you're fighting for your survival.

So who was I with? It's funny how it happened. A close friend of ours had run into us and joined up with us the day before last. We were happy to share our shelter and supplies with him, since he supplied us with guns and ammunition. He was the one who kept me moving as I watched my husband get ripped to shreds, and it was he who stumbled onto the luckiest find of the century, our new home. It was he that I now shared this new shelter with.

It was strange, really, that the two of us had survived. We were young -- both in our late twenties -- but neither of us was the athletic type, both being of a somewhat "smooshier" build, as I preferred to think of it. Ryan was the type that most girls barely noticed, mostly because of his low self-esteem and quirky sense of humor. He was tall, with short, curly, dark brown hair, and a face attractive enough that he really shouldn't have had as hard of a time of it as he did. He had a pair of warm, deep brown eyes that betrayed his kindness but also revealed his mischievous side when he so chose.

I, on the other hand, am on the shorter side, and though I wasn't about to win any kind of beauty contest, I'd never really had trouble attracting guys. My shorter stature made my ample breasts and rump stand out all the more, and I'm told that I am very pretty when I'm not making ridiculous faces. I wear my auburn hair long enough that it could completely conceal my breasts, if ever I wanted it to -- I'm not really the modest type. Any guy who was looking for the "complete package" was enthralled by my prowess at cooking, baking, and crafting all manner of things. I had always joked that if society crumbled, those around me would hardly notice, with all of my skills. I hoped I wouldn't eat those words.

As the reality of the situation caught up with us, we surveyed our new home. The shelter was sparse and small, designed more for a married couple than for two platonic friends. Almost all of the facilities were based on one room, with only storage and lavatory in separate rooms. The furniture consisted of a single futon in the center of the room that served as couch and bed, though truth be told, it wasn't until we had been there a few weeks that we finally figured out how to convert it. There was a small wood stove in the corner, a small table with two chairs, and a few shelves along the walls. The rest of the space was taken up with necessities like the water filtration system, a stall shower, a small food prep area with a sink and dishrack, a small area that could be used to grow some indoor-friendly plants, and an exercise bicycle set up to charge a series of capacitors with the kinetic energy generated.

In short, it would definitely not be winning any awards for keen interior design. No matter; we had survived, and that was all that mattered. We investigated the supplies, and he started a fire in the wood stove while I gathered supplies for our first hot meal since the last organized resistance failed this past weekend. As we ate, we discussed what had happened.

For the first time, we began to talk about how we felt about everything that had happened. We agreed that if we were going to survive in such a small space, we would have to be completely open with each other. We talked of our fear, our anxieties, and our needs. The one need that neither of us mentioned was the need for sexual release, which was starting to reach the forefront of my mind now that my immediate survival was not in danger. We curled up together on the futon, enjoying the comfort and peace of being safe, and fell asleep nestled in each other's arms.

As the days went by, we fell into an easy routine. He began to sort through the various items that we had access to in the shelter's storage rooms, and I began to assess what I could make with the supplies we had. Stored clothing was adjusted to fit us or converted into more useful objects. Supplies were tallied, and it seemed that we'd have enough to last in there many months, maybe a year if we were clever about it. He was a great companion, and he eagerly began figuring out all those nitpicky details like "how long can we survive" and "what can we use for weapons when our supplies run out." There was a naturalness about our interactions that made it easy to forget that the world outside was still in chaos. The only awkwardness was the building sexual tension. Though neither of us spoke it aloud, it hung in the air between us, a palpable buildup of energy that needed an outlet.

The outlet came on the fifth day, as we realized that it was high time to find a way to have a good, hot shower and do some laundry. The area that served as a shower was separated from the main room by only a glass door, which for some reason was not the usual frosted glass you find on shower doors. No, this glass was completely clear. Ryan showered first, and I'll admit I tried my best not to perv out and spy on him. I watched him as surreptitiously as I could, anxiously hoping to catch him jerking off. That thought excited me in a way I hadn't expected. But aside from a pretty good glimpse of what appeared to be a decent endowment, so to speak, I didn't get to see anything scintillating. When it came my turn to shower, Ryan promised to be a gentleman, which got me thinking.

How was he so cool about all of this? How was he not begging for some kind of release? We hadn't really had any time to ourselves at all, so I knew that he couldn't be keeping himself satisfied by masturbating. As I showered, I began to realize how much I had been suppressing my own needs. I realized then that if he was not going completely crazy by now, he must have been masturbating when I wasn't looking. We slept each night with me draped across his chest, seeking the comfort that is so hard to find when the world outside is all but dead, so it occurred to me that he must have literally been jerking off behind my back.

The thought of him stroking himself so close to me turned me on so much I had to stifle a moan. I found myself showering in what I hoped was a more seductive manner, determined to make him want me enough that we could both get some release. As I watched the remaining shower water begin to run low, I ran my soapy hands along my curves, from my full hips and ass across my torso, ending with a luxurious and exaggerated caress across and between my tits. He didn't say anything, but even through the steamed-up door, I knew that he was watching, and that only turned me on more. Facing away from him, I bent all the way over, ostensibly to wash my feet, but really, all I wanted was to give him a good look at my ass and pussy. My mind raced with thoughts of what he would do to me when he finally gave up the gentlemanliness that had kept us platonic so far.

When I finished showering, I toweled off and used the used shower water to begin to clean our laundry. Out of the clothes that we arrived with and the ones I had modified from those we found in the shelter, we had each saved a set of underthings to wear while I washed the other clothes today, so I had on only a plain pair of panties and a simple, yet flattering bra, while he was in a comfortable pair of his preferred boxer briefs. I leaned over the laundry basin, aware that my scrubbing must be making my ass shake quite nicely. I knew this was the case because I could see the heaving of my bosom in time with my movements and I knew that my rear end was surely mirroring that movement. By Ryan's silence, I was pretty sure that I had his attention. Yet, still, he tried nothing.

As I finished up the laundry, I snuck a peek at Ryan's not-so-concealed manhood. It seemed to be on the larger side in both length and girth, as my peek confirmed that he had definitely been enjoying the view. So what was stopping him? I decided that I would need to be more forward if I was going to get any kind of satisfaction. I took up what was now my usual seat beside him, with him leaning back on the futon with a wide-kneed stance while I sat beside him, angled to face him, so that I wasn't resting on the back of the couch at all. "Can I ask you a question?" I had always wondered, and in fact my late husband and I had debated, whether Ryan had been interested in me. I was fairly convinced that he had never had any particular affection for me, but Andrew was convinced that he had secretly had the hots for me since we met. I had to know.

"Of course. I told you, we can talk about anything."

"Right. Okay...before all this, before the outbreak...have you ever wished you had met me before Andrew did?"

He paused a moment, definitely surprised by the directness of the question. When we met Ryan, Andrew and I were already an "item", so if there had been any attraction there, it was never explored. Finally, Ryan responded by saying, simply and earnestly, "all the time." I stole a peek into his eyes and felt my heart rate start to climb as I realized that only sheer force of will had been holding him back. I longed to break that will.

We left it at that as we both processed our own, separate thoughts. I can't say what was going through his mind, but my mind was racing. It was reviewing every plot arc from every piece of erotica I had ever read, and twisting it around to be about platonic friendships taking a turn for the sexual. Thoughts of orgasms and fellatio filled my mind as I thought about what to do next. "Ryan, can I ask you a very strange yes-or-no question?"

"You know, you don't have to keep asking me that. Ask away."

I leaned forward slightly, opening my mouth as if to speak, before planting my lips on Ryan's rather surprised mouth. He hesitated half a moment before returning my kiss, tentatively at first, then with passion and need. I pulled back a moment, registering the fire in his eyes as he looked at me, confused. "What...? Why...? Oh." He realized then that I was still waiting for the answer to my question. "Can I answer your question with another question?"

"Of course."

He snaked his arms around behind me, pulling me toward his chest as his lips met mine again. Now all hesitation was gone, replaced only with desire and heat. It was as if our mouths were made for each other. I could feel my temperature increasing dramatically, especially in my panties, as our tongues danced together. The rational part of me realized that my heart must be beating like that because this was my first kiss with someone other than my late husband in nearly nine years. The novelty of it only intensified my passion, and the slight feeling that there was something wrong with what we were doing, that I should wait longer after Andrew's death, sent electric shivers up and down my body. I broke our embrace for just a moment longer to answer his unspoken question: "Yes. Definitely."

I realized then that we were still wearing only our undies, and moved to take advantage of that fact. Breaking the kiss for only a moment. I quickly shifted my leg to the other side of Ryan's, so that my legs were spread wide around his and my knees rested beside his hips. I realized with a surge in arousal that my previous assessment of the size of his cock had been quite accurate, as his large, rock-hard erection pressed firmly against my panty-covered mound. We just enjoyed the sensation for a breath or two before resuming our oral exploration with escalating passion as his hands finally realized they were now free to enjoy this uncharted territory.

He reached around to unhook my bra and pulled back from our kiss to watch as my large breasts fell free of their covering. His left hand began to stroke and caress my bosom as his right traced the curves of my side from the top of my breast down along the curve of my waist to the fullness of my hips and bottom. His hand lingered, tracing circles on my cool skin with his fingers.

By then I was rocking my hips against his, teasing us both with the sensation of our flesh colliding even as the thin fabric of our bindings kept us apart. His right hand dropped all pretenses of propriety and dove between my panties and my skin, quickly and skillfully finding my turgid clitoris and beginning to swirl his fingers around it. He began to trail kisses down my jawbone and chin, winding up running his tongue lightly along my neck as he slid a single finger, then two, into my dripping wet pussy, moaning aloud at how wet and inviting it was. He quickly matched the pace of his swirling thumb and probing fingers to the thrusting of my hips, and it wasn't long until I felt my first orgasm building. Within a minute, I was gasping in ecstasy as my body was consumed with electricity. Only partially satisfied, my pussy began to ache to be filled, and I couldn't stop myself from thrusting more desperately against the erection that now strained furiously against the fabric of his underwear.

I took a step back, savoring the novelty of it all. Standing up slowly, I arched my back as I slowly straightened up, giving Ryan a full view of my breasts and curves as I slowly slid my panties to the floor and kicked them away. I grabbed the waistband of his boxers, pulling them toward his knees and out of my way. Kneeling in front of him, I took in the sight of the throbbing member, noting the drop of precum glistening at the tip. I took it into my hand and began to stroke slowly as I reached my tongue toward his swollen head and began to twirl it around his erection. The sound of his moans had my body going crazy, and I knew that I had to have him inside my pussy soon.

I swirled and twirled my tongue along the ridges of his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive regions of the head. I began to quicken my pace gradually as I noticed how he was straining to keep his hips still against the urge the thrust deeply. I slowly lowered my lips all the way down his shaft until they pressed against the base, then began to bob my head up and down along his shaft, varing how quickly I moved and how deeply I took him. After a short while, I felt his balls begin to tense as he warned me "I'm going to come soon." I showed my approval by quickening the pace of my hand and mouth and cupping his balls with my other hand. Soon I felt spurt after spurt of warm semen coating the back of my throat as I strove to milk it out of his large cock. I swallowed it all, and he half moaned, half grunted his satisfaction.

Temporarily satisfied, Ryan turned his full attention to making sure that my first orgasm was only one of many. He urged me up onto the futon where he had me lean back with my legs spread wide and my hips slid all the way out to the edge of the cushion. His tongue reached out and began to trace every fold as a finger turned lazy circles around my clit. I moaned my approval as he licked and sucked at my clit and pussy until I came again, even harder than before. And then even though I had had some satisfaction, my need to feel his hard cock spear my pussy was now even stronger than ever. I returned him to his original position leaning back on the futon and positioned myself over him, deftly guiding his member to my pussy. Our lips met again, another outlet for the growing passion we both felt. As I lowered myself onto his cock, I paused with him at my entrance to tease him. He roughly grabbed my hips and pulled me down onto his cock, which slid the rest of the way in with no resistance thanks to my abundant juices, even despite how tight of a fit it was.

We soon reached an easy rhythm, with me grinding my hips down against his pelvis as he lifted his hips off the couch to penetrate deeper. As my breasts bounced against his face, he took a nipple into his mouth and nibbled ever so lightly, electrifying my skin again and adding a fresh supply of lubricating juices to my already soaking pussy. Suddenly, Ryan wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against him as he lifted us both off the couch and moved toward the nearest wall. He pinned my torso against the wall and resumed his thrusting, which now brought him deeper inside me than I had ever felt.

I began to drag my teeth along the ridge behind his ear ever so lightly, barely making contact at all. He rewarded this movement with a loud moan and increased vigor before pulling us away from the wall and turning toward the futon, setting me down and asking me to bend over the futon with my legs straight and back curved. I hadn't thought that he could get any deeper, but as he positioned himself at my opening again and began to pump in and out in long, smooth motions, I realized that this new position let him fill me as never before, so that when he began to stroke my clit again, I knew I wouldn't last long. My breathing turned into panting and panting turned into whimpering as I felt my strongest orgasm yet grow until it felt as though it was just a sliver away.

I was just starting to moan when he hesitated and his thrusting slowed; as soon as he started to speak, I already knew what he was worried about. "Don't you dare stop! Not now. Please don't stop. Trust me." I felt his strong arm wrap around my waist for better leverage as his other hand redoubled its efforts on my clit as the waves of my orgasm washed over me like a tsunami. As my climax peaked, I felt his large cock pulsing with his own, matching orgasm. I noted gratefully that he continued to stroke and thrust until my own orgasm had subsided before withdrawing and moving away to clean himself up. Exhausted and completely spent, I collapsed onto the futon.

I felt him curl up behind me, arms encircling my waist and lips gently kissing the crook of my neck.

"Not that I'm complaining, or anything --" he began, "because DAMN was that hot -- but wouldn't this be a pretty terrible time to get pregnant?"

He was right; we didn't even know yet if the zombies could starve to death in the absence of fresh meat, so hiding away in our shelter only made sense if we could use the time to prepare for whatever might await. A tiny, helpless mess-making machine could not help situations, but I knew something that Ryan didn't: I knew about my IUD.