The Outbreak

* * * * *

Two days later, Kelly was going down on me on the balcony while I stared at the gang bang on the lawn. As I watched, people wandered by and joined in. Most of them weren't even clothed. Others, spent, lay sleeping on the ground until woken, usually by someone renewing sex with them. When I finished, Kelly looked out at them over her shoulder, not even bothering to wipe the cum from her lips. She seemed about to say something, but them just shook her head and stood up, accepting my help.

"Your turn," she said with a weary smile. I pulled her close and latched on to her left breast, sucking hard. "Yessss," she moan with deep satisfaction. She pressed herself against me and writhed, grasping the railing behind her to keep from falling, as I tried my damnedest to drain her swollen tits. The act turned me on (as if I wasn't always turned on now) so much that it almost invalidated her own efforts to relieve me. She arched her back as much as she could and shuddered to orgasm, pulling her nipple from my mouth. I held onto her to keep her upright, just watching her spasm against the railing, lost in her throes.

Momentarily sated, we stepped inside to continue our routine. Eat. Clean. Shower. We walked through the actions needed to sustain our life as our ardor quickly reasserted itself. The rest of the world was having mixed results with its own efforts if the news was any indication. The quarantine seemed to be a success, but within the city and its limits services were breaking down. Luckily, the infected weren't really ambitious to leave. So long as there were warm bodies to fuck within the zone, we were content to wallow in our new state. Honestly, we didn't pay much attention. We checked the news periodically just to see if any progress was made on treatment or a cure, but our attention was limited. Without quick answers from science (which, honestly, wasn't really designed for quick answers), speculation was rampant. Alien plague. Mutated rabies. Even demon possession.

As usual, we didn't make it through showering before we were back at it. Kelly slid in while I was soaping up and I had her up against the slippery tile immediately, doing my best to ram my cock into her at the awkward angle without both of us falling through the glass door. "Yes, yes, yes," she growled through gritted teeth as I took her, fingers scrambling for purchase until she caught hold of the shower head. When we came, the precarious balance was lost and we slipped down the wall to lie in bottom of the tub, a tangle of limbs under the spraying hot water. Sliding against each other, we changed position and soon I was inside her again, lying on my back with her sitting on my cock with her back to me, head down to keep the water from spraying directly into her face. Another frantic coupling ensued until she collapsed back on top of me and I popped free.

"We can't keep doing this," she murmured as I massaged her breasts. I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. We had both hoped we would burn through it, that the lust would wane, sex would get boring, or we'd just get tired. But whatever had us kept our hormones at peak and despite the soreness, bruises, and dehydration, sex was just always on our minds. I'd always found it disconcerting how drugs or physical injuries could rewrite our personalities, how a chemical in our blood could change the way we think, and this was exactly what had happened. The other things which interested us just fell by the wayside. Sex dominated our every waking thought. We were like zombies, except that our hunger wasn't for brains. She turned off the water with her foot and we helped each other out of the tub, ours hands on each other more than the effort required. We got dressed, just to provide a mild impediment, and sat down for our brief media diet.

"... the CDC is seeking approval to introduce medication into the water supply to help alleviate the symptoms. They stress that this isn't a cure for the condition but just a means to manage it to allow a return to normal function for those afflicted. Given the logistical difficulties of dispensing it to those in the quarantine zone, distribution through the water has been deemed the most practical solution." This was followed by a long discussion of possible side-effects, risks, and how they were deemed out-weighed by the public health emergency. There was a lot of really bad stuff happening out there which I wouldn't allow myself to imagine and I was thankful Kelly and I had each other. She squeezed my hand and I gave her a brief smile, trying not to focus on the feeling of her skin against mine.

"I should go to the store," I said. "We are running low on some stuff and... it might not be long before there isn't really service, so we should stock up."

She nodded but wasn't able to hide a fearful expression. "Should I come with you?" she asked, though I could hear her wariness.

I shook my head. "Too dangerous," I replied. Not just that, I thought, but the risk of us getting distracted by each other while out there was pretty high. I got my shoes on and grabbed my keys and gave her the briefest of kisses before making my way outside. While getting in the car, I ignored the sounds of what was going on around me, tried not to wonder if what I saw was consensual or not. If the concept even had meaning when a virus or whatever was controlling your behavior. I settled into my seat, winced at the tenderness in my balls and how uncomfortable my erection was in my jeans, started the car and headed out.

* * * * *

The registers were empty, which didn't really surprise me. As I made my way through the aisles, I passed others loading up their carts. Things dropped or knocked off shelves were scattered about, but it didn't look like the store had been looted, just that nobody was too rushed to pick up after themselves and no employees were there to pick up the slack. Like me, people seemed to be focusing on getting the things they needed and getting out as quickly as possible. We were careful not to meet each other's gazes but there was a tension in the air and I could feel eyes on me, like my eyes wandered to glance at retreating figures, groaning inwardly at the ache of my desire.

I rounded a corner and almost ran into a thin man furiously jerking off. He gave me a pleading look and I nearly dropped to my knees in front of him but was able to rush by, disappearing around another corner. Behind me, I could hear him grunt as he climaxed, weeping with the joy of release. I practically ran through the rest of the store, then rushed back to my car. But as I was loading the groceries into my trunk, I suddenly became aware that someone was behind a moment before a strong hand pushed me down so I was bent over on top of the bags. Another hand yanked my jeans and underwear down in a few rough motions while my body shuddered in anticipation. My hands clutched the rim of the trunk and I screwed my eyes shut in pain as a cock penetrated me.

The strong hands took hold of my hips and pulled me back to meet each thrust. I tried to raise my head and ended up banging it on the lid, nearly knocking myself out. My head swimming and seeing stars, I was aware of the novel sensation of his cock emptying into my ass. Mercifully, my attacker was already finished. When he was done, he pulled out and ran away before I could extract myself from the trunk. I tried to pull up my pants, head still swimming, when I felt an arm around me, steadying me, and a hand around my cock. I moaned, leaning into whoever it was, and let them lead me around to the driver's side door. As they helped me into my seat, I saw that it was the thin man from the store. I fell back into the passenger seat, staring up at the roof of the car, and felt his lips around my cock. Exhausted, I just closed my eyes and let him.

* * * * *

It was dark when I came to and realized that the buzzing I was hearing was not my head, but my cell phone. I struggled to sit up and found that the passenger side door was now open as well. My face felt sticky but I didn't bother to look into the mirror to confirm what I believed. I just pulled out my phone and hit 'answer'.

"Gus?! Are you okay?" came Kelly's panicked voice.

"Yeah, sorry, I passed out in the car and only just woke up. Lack of sleep just catching up with me. I didn't mean to worry you," I lied while I rooted around for a tissue. It was impossible to clean myself up without facing the mirror so I was finally faced with my own bedraggled visage, dried cum in my hair and face. My throat was sore and I didn't want to think about what that meant, and it was easy to ignore given the pain in my ass.

"Get home! It isn't safe out there," she commanded, leaving out the implied "after dark".

"Yeah, yeah, leaving now. I'll be home in a few minutes. Love you," and hung up after she reciprocated, then wet the tissue with my spit to try and clean myself up as best I could. It seemed like a lost cause, so I just gave up, closed both the doors, and started the car. On the drive home, I felt numb, unable to process what had happened. All I felt was the urgency of my lust and the animalistic desire to get back to my mate. For a second I wondered how we even come back from this.

I was careful getting out of the car and unloading the groceries. Curtains shifted and I had the same feeling of eyes on my that I had in the store. I made my way to the front door as fast as I could and locked the door behind me. In the dark apartment, the only sound was the buzzing of Kelly's vibrator and her soft cries of pleasure.

Her strained voice seemed loud in the quiet, "Gus? Is that you?" and I could hear desperation more than concern.

Leaving the groceries on the floor, I made my way into the bedroom. She licked her lips when she saw me and tossed the still-buzzing toy aside on the bed. She was naked, covered in sweat, and obscenely spread open. My higher brain functions shut down as I hastily removed my clothes and fell on her, the trauma of before forgotten in my bestial need.

At the end of another marathon of copulation, I lay on top of her with her legs wrapped around my waist and my cock still inside her. Both of us struggled to catch our breath and a propped myself up a bit to take my weight off of her. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window, she looked up at me and frowned.

"Something happened," she stated and I wondered if it was my expression or if she could make out the dried semen in the low light. I rolled off of her, though I had to pry her legs off to do so, and lay beside her, facing away.

"Yeah," I admitted, intending to say more but unable to put the words together.

She pressed against my back and said insistently, "What?" So I told her.

Halfway through the story, I became aware of two things: I was incredibly aroused by the memory of my violation and so was she. I could feel her hand press between us and the sounds of her masturbation were impossible to ignore. At one point she stopped and whispered guiltily, "Sorry," but started back up a minute later. At the end, I realized I'd been idly fondling myself as well.

I said, "I'm not sure this is healthy."

She replied, after a pregnant pause and a reach around to confirm my cock was hard, "I don't know, maybe it is a coping mechanism?" She stroked me thoughtfully and then whispered in my ear, with a hint of embarrassment, "Would you do that to me?"

I turned around, frowning, and asked, "What part?"

She refused to meet my eyes and murmured, "All of it?"

I stared at her in the dim light and we were quiet for a long while, though she didn't stop masturbating me. The thing was, it turned me on. I felt like it shouldn't and I certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Well, except perhaps on the most animalistic level. I knew she had a kink regarding rape and I had kind of worried that the current state of things out there might draw her, the infection overriding rational considerations and restraint. In a normal state of mind, it was a desire for role-play, not the real thing, but we were not in a normal state of mind. That, layered on all of the complicated feelings of having been sexually assaulted a short while ago left me unable to respond.

Finally, she said, "Come on," and got out of bed, pulling me after her. She dressed me and herself, like we were putting on costumes, and then led me to the door.

I pulled my hand away and said, "Wait, out there?"

She turned back and said plaintively, "Please?"

The aforementioned altered state of mind won out. I nodded and followed her out the door and down to the car. It wasn't terribly dark out as our street was well lit and the porch light was pretty bright. Still, there was a sense of danger lurking in the shadows. Movement behind curtains again and the sounds of people in the area, though not close. She went to the trunk and opened it, then leaned down. I stared at her hard for a moment, at her round ass clad in denim thrust out, her hips peeking out the tops of her jeans as her shirt rode up her stomach. I don't even remember crossing the distance between us.

She cried out for real when I grabbed her hips and pulled her jeans down in one swift movement, leaving her panty clad ass exposed to the air. I pulled myself out past the zipper of my pants rather than pulling them down and pulled aside her underwear. I could hear her panting in anticipation, though whether it was fear or desire or a mix, I didn't know. She struggled to straighten and I put my hand on her back and pushed her back down, then lined up and pushed into her. It was hard. I don't know how the guys who took me did it so quickly, but I pressed in despite the tightness and lack of lubrication. She shrieked but I couldn't stop, forced to hold firmly onto her hips to keep her bucking from throwing me off.

Once I was all the way in, I paused, perhaps in a moment of clarity, until I heard a barely audible whisper, "Take me, Gus. Fuck me."

It was brutal and barely pleasurable, but I fucked her hard. She went limp, making little pained noises in the depths of the trunk with every thrust. When I finally unloaded into her, she groaned but said nothing. I pulled out and lifted her out, cock still out. She offered no resistance as I took her around and lay her across the front seats of the car. I heard a noise and looked over my shoulder to see a couple from the building in the shadows of the front porch. He stood behind her, fucking her while they both watched us. I ignored them and kneeled next to the car and buried my face in Kelly's pussy, which was sopping wet. She made small noises but most of her reaction was physical, thighs squeezing the sides of my face and hips bucking whenever she came. I lost count, but there came a point where she was limp, mostly motionless, eyes closed. My hard-on, sore from the unlubricated anal, was still engorged and dripping and now desperate for release.

The couple by the front porch was either gone or in the bushes, where I could swear I heard sounds. I went around to the passenger side and opened the door. I grabbed Kelly gently under the arms and pulled her back far enough so that her head fell back off the seat. I kneeled on the door jamb and carefully inserted my unwashed cock into her mouth, waiting for some protest or other indication, but she just lie there, limp. I couldn't tell if she'd passed out or was just pretending to be out. I considered stopping but my lust convinced me that her previous assent was sufficient and I begin to slowly fuck her face. It was not a comfortable position. It was too high up to kneel on the ground, so I was perched on the edge of the car holding onto the top for balance. It also took all my force of will not to speed up. Finally, after what seemed like a painful, aching eternity, I pulled out and gushed cum onto her upturned face and neck. I was astounded at the volume of it, it was like a porn shoot, and in a manic moment I was proud of myself.

I was broken out of my reverie by Kelly saying, eyes still closed, "Can you get me something to wipe my eyes?"

* * * * *

A dam was broken by our little role-play scene and our appetites were no longer sated by conventional, albeit energetic, sexual congress. We came up with a series of safe words and discussed boundaries, which proved minimal in our maddened hypersexual state, and then proceeded to live in a state of pretend savagery. We took each other brutally as our whims took us, dropping the pretense of caring about the needs or consent of the other. We loved it. While before we had lived in a state of constant unwanted sexual desire, now we lived in a state of heightened sexual anticipation, never knowing when the other would attack us and force us to relieve them. It was insanity. We stopped watching the news, barely ate, and stayed naked. We prowled our apartment restlessly like animals, waiting for the next moment of violent mating. With sleep interrupted, more often than not, by sexual assaults, we lost track of time. Days passed. Maybe weeks.

Then, I woke one day and the lust was gone. The clarity took a while to adjust to. I took stock of myself. I was barely able to move, I was so sore. I was in the bed, tied spreadeagle to the bed posts. I don't know what was in my ass but it was unwelcomed and uncomfortable. The room reeked of sex. The sheets were stained and damp and itchy underneath me. I felt crusty and gross.

After a few swallows to lubricate my dry mouth, I croaked, "Kelly?"

There was a stirring and she rose from the floor, where she'd lay out of sight. She blinked, winced as she stood, and asked, "Is it over?"

I shrugged the best I could, which prompted her to untie me and then help to rub feeling back into my arms. Physical contact with her that wasn't sexual was almost surreal. In fact, nothing felt real.

And that was the problem. We cleaned everything up, got checked over by the doctors, prescribed our pills, and went back to work. They still weren't sure what caused it, so it was still treatment but no cure. But normal life was blank, sterile, abstract. During the outbreak, everything was immediate and tangible and simple, in many respects. We both missed it. It took a while before we admitted it to each other. But going through the motions of life, paying bills and planning meals and going to work, all seemed ridiculous now.

We gave it six months before we made our decision. We played around with our medication and figured out how long it took to wear off and how long it took to kick in and timed it so that, on the weekends, we were ourselves again. We locked the doors after work on Friday and lived as we wanted until the alarm went off on Sunday night, reminding us to take our pills. On Mondays, we'd go to work sore, covered in bruises, and aching, but we could take it. We could fake the normalcy for another five days.

I don't think we were the only ones. A lot of us had that look on Mondays. It used to be the tired hangdog look of the hungover but now it was the stiff tenderness of the debauched. It still isn't sustainable. Kelly's pregnant, of course. How could she not be? We can't keep this up when the baby's born. But we have a few months at least. A few months to live and be ourselves. It is hard to think about the future. We are addicted to now.