The Naughty Collection

by Ruby City Books

  Without stopping their movements, Max and Jeff looked over at Casey. She knew she should feel embarrassed that her idiot roommates were watching her rub at herself while they jerked off, and maybe it was the whiskey or the impending doom that stank of death and refused to stop screaming down below, but Casey didn’t give a fuck anymore. She pushed aside the fabric of her underwear to where her dark entrance hid beneath a puff of curly red pubic hair and let her fingernails drag up and down along her hot, slick folds. Jeff grunted and tugged harder at his cock, which now bent in a curving line up against his stomach. Max’s mouth fell open and, moaning, he brought up his other hand to flick at the purpled head. The sight of their hands increasing their pressure and speed made Casey hum with pleasure, and she let one finger trail around the circular space surrounding her opening.

  “Do it, Red,” Max hissed, his eyes on her cunt in a way that suggested he wanted to eat her alive. Shivering, Casey thrust her own finger inside herself. She was tight and soft and familiar inside, and she couldn’t help but add a second finger, and then a third.

  “Jesus Christ, Case,” Jeff gasped, his hand flying up and down his cock.

  Casey, panting with pleasure and greedily drinking in the sight of these two boys masturbating to her body, brought a hand to her chest. She pulled her full, ample breasts from her bra and tweaked her soft, pink nipples, eliciting a sharp cry from her own mouth and grunts from the boys. She pushed her fingers in and out of her cunt, letting them slam against her walls and scrabble at the softness. Max mirrored her movements and picked up speed, his hand making smacking sounds as it slammed up and down his engorged member. Jeff licked his lips and thrust in and out of his own hand. The sounds of the three of them gasping and pumping and sliding filled the room, until none of them noticed or cared about the zombies down below. Suddenly Casey saw come beading on the twin sets of aroused heads.

  “Come on my tits,” she cried.

  Max and Jeff gave her identical sets of incredulous looks.

  “I said,” Casey snapped, “come on my tits. Come on my fucking tits, you goddamned idiots, I want to wear your hot jizz and lick it up so fucking come on my tits right now.”

  The two boys stumbled towards her, their cocks in their hands leading the rest of their bodies. Casey rubbed at her clit frantically with one hand and jammed her fingers in and out of her cunt with the other, watching two hands pump at two magnificent throbbing erections, sweat pooling between her breasts, the zombies distantly groaning and her own urgent cries rising louder and louder and suddenly streams of warm, salty come were spilling down onto her nipples and her pale, freckled skin and catching in the dip in her throat and dripping in a viscous trail down her stomach, and the thickness of it and the warmth were so overwhelming she found she could do nothing else but throw her head back and feel her whole body seize as orgasms wracked her from head to toe…

  When Max, Jeff, and Casey woke up the next morning, they noticed three things.

  One: zombies had filled the entire neighborhood. They were completely surrounded by the undead. If they’d had any notion of escaping, that notion was now dead.

  Two: their food supply couldn’t last them forever.

  Three: they were all very naked, crusted with come, and hung over.

  None of them said much of anything for the rest of the day.

  Day 12 of the zombie apocalypse. They hadn’t really spoken since the drunk Truth or Dare night. Considering there were only three of them in this damn attic, it was quite a feat to never make eye contact or speak or even touch one another. Casey was ready to murder both of them. They sat in a silent circle and opened three cans of beans for dinner. Max reached across Jeff to grab the can opener. When he accidentally brushed Jeff’s thigh, Jeff jumped.

  “Don’t touch me, dude,” Jeff muttered as he shoveled black beans from their can into his mouth.

  “Didn’t mean to, dude,” Max replied. He jabbed the can opener into the tin and began twisting the knob to make it cut the top of the can clean off. Casey rolled her eyes, waiting for her turn. Max held the can opener to Casey without looking at her. Suddenly, Casey wanted to punch him in the jaw. She snatched the can opener from his hand and punched him in the bicep.

  “Ah, what the fuck, Red,” Max snapped, rubbing his arm but keeping his eyes carefully down.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Casey sighed. “Will the two of you look at me?” Jeff and Max looked at her sideways. Whatever. It was better than nothing.

  “We were drunk,” she began. “We were exhausted. Zombies had been pounding non-stop on our walls for days. There’s nothing else to do. Whatever excuse you need to feel better about whatever the hell happened that night, use it and get the fuck over it. We’re trapped in here indefinitely and I’m sick of playing ’99 Bottles of Beer On the Wall’ by myself.”

  Jeff finally turned and looked at her full on, his bright eyes catching flecks of sunlight from the one window in the attic. “You don’t feel weird about it,” he said. Casey wasn’t sure if he was asking her or making a statement of observation; either way, she refused to feel weird about it. She refused to think about it, because every time she had glimpses of what had happened she started to feel the familiar heat pooling in her belly and her hips began to grind against the floor in…unhelpful…ways.

  Max turned to look at her too, and now she had two sets of eyes and two startlingly beautiful faces examining her every movement and reaction. Casey tried hard not to gulp.

  “You’ve got some freaky tendencies, Red,” Max smirked. “Coming on your tits…”

  “Stop!” Casey pursed her lips and tried to breath deeply through her nose. “Stop. We’re not doing that. We’re not acting like there are other options for entertainment here. We can do crossword puzzles, we can play cards, and we can jerk off. We don’t get to be embarrassed in this tiny attic. And by the way,” she added, “no one is pairing off with anyone, or we’re going to kill each other, and that doesn’t seem like where we want this year of our lives to go. Am I right?”

  “Always the boss,” Max muttered, but a genuine smile was forming on his face. It was quite arresting, actually. Casey couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile in a way that wasn’t meant to be ironic or mean. She caught herself staring at the corners of his mouth that were turning up in interesting ways, and shook her head slightly. She turned to Jeff and was surprised to find he was looking at her in a way she could only call “tenderly,” his eyes soft and a small dimple catching in the corner of his cheek. Casey’s heart started fluttering. Good Lord, cut it out, Casey, she thought firmly. This is strictly about survival. Get with the program. Be professional or something.

  Casey stuck out her hand to Jeff. “Deal? No one gets weird?”

  Jeff took her hand and shook it once. His hand felt strong and warm and slightly rough, and Casey was not thinking about what he could do to her with those hands, or how they would feel on her ass. She wasn’t. She really wasn’t.

  “Deal,” he said softly. Casey nodded and turned to Max.

  “And you?” she asked warily. “Do we have a deal?”

  Max cocked his head, and then reached for her hand. His grip was firm and secure. His eyes traveled up and down her body so briefly she wasn’t sure if it had really happened when she thought about it a few minutes later.

  “Deal,” Max said, his face still containing hints of that genuine, heart stopping smile.

  Casey nodded. “Good. Then we might actually survive this thing.”

  The three roommates fell silent as the roar of the undead below swelled in the cold golden afternoon.

  “Yeah,” said Max. “Maybe.”

  After that, the trio set into a somewhat comfortable routine. Casey stopped wearing a bra, and then she stopped wearing pants, until finally she got down to a baggy t-shirt and her raggedy, braided, red hair. Max wore his jeans, but quit with wearing his t-shirt, and Jeff moved to wearing sweatpants. The warm, stale smell of human sweat and breath filled
the air in the attic. The three roommates ate two meals a day of cold beans; they watched the zombies, green and flaking and noisier by the minute, accumulate in the street; they played cards; and when it got too late and they were tired of Go Fish, they got drunk and jerked off in their own respective corners.

  And if any of them only pretended to be drunk, or acted like they weren’t getting off on the sight of their roommates pleasuring themselves, well, they kept quiet about it.

  Then everything began to fall apart.

  It had been three weeks since they’d locked themselves in the attic. The three roommates had grown so used to the deep moaning sound of the undead throwing themselves at the house that they’d stopped really hearing anything. It had become an almost comforting background noise to their daily lives.

  Until one night, they heard a sickening crack and felt the house shudder.

  Casey looked up from her can of hickory smoked beans. “What was that?” she asked, even as she knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that it wasn’t the normal sounds of rotting flesh rubbing against the doorframe. The three of them paused, spoons of beans half raised to their mouths, to feel the house rock back and forth. A strange weight was accumulating in the living room, and suddenly the groaning sounds were louder, sharper, closer than they had ever been before.

  “Oh, fuck,” Max whispered.

  “Max?” she said, her heart now in her throat. “Max, what was that?”

  But Max wasn’t listening. He set down his can of beans and leapt to his feet. “We need to barricade the entrance better,” he said briskly, looking around seemingly for more heavy objects to pile on top of the trap door.

  “There’s a trunk over there,” said Jeff. He rose and moved to the corner by the window. “That should do the trick for now.”

  “They’re inside, aren’t they,” Casey said woodenly. She closed her eyes. How could she have thought they were going to just spend the rest of their lives in this tiny attic, safe and sound, fed and happy? They hadn’t been building a life together. They’d been buying time. That was all. Just buying time until they became moaning, mindless corpses, too.

  “Case, come on.”

  Casey opened her eyes. Jeff beckoned to her from where he and Max were attempting to haul a heavy old trunk and toss it onto the wooden planks nailed over the trap door. Jeff lifted his end and grunted, his taught biceps straining with the weight. “Whose trunk is this, anyway?” he panted.

  “Mine,” Casey answered. “It has all my winter crap in it.” She had a flash of his hand moving up and down his pink length, of that same hand dipping down between her legs and thrusting up… She shook her head and focused on the sound of the zombies, which was growing even louder. They were moving up the stairs, she realized. They were moving slowly, but they were coming. And by the look of their numbers from the attic window, there was no shortage of undead corpses who wanted nothing more than to feast on her flesh and her brain matter.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Casey said faintly, rubbing her stomach and trying to breathe.

  Max and Jeff dragged the trunk to the trap door and slammed it down. Max put his hands on his knees and gasped, watching her. Jeff came over to her and crouched down, rubbing his hand on her back. Without thinking, she arched into his touch like a cat.

  “Just breathe, Case,” he said softly, making circles along the braided knots of her spine. “We’re gonna make it, okay? I promise. Just breathe.”

  Casey’s heart was pounding too hard. She felt like she might be having a stroke or something. Her arms felt dead, and her palms were sweating an unreasonable amount. Her eyes were wide and roving around the room without really seeing any of the objects in it. Then the first fist landed on the other side of the trap door leading to the attic. Casey jumped. Another fist. And another. Only a flimsy, plank-wood floor now separated the zombies and the three of them.

  “Oh God,” she gasped. “I can’t breathe. We’re going to die. I can’t breathe. Oh God.”

  Max walked over and knelt on her other side, his face close enough to hers that they could brush the tips of their noses together. His dark brown eyes held her gaze steadily.

  “Red,” he said gently. “Come on. We’re okay.”

  But Casey was shaking her head wildly, barely feeling Jeff’s hand on her back trying to soothe her. “We’re not,” she croaked. Another fist hit the trap door, and she jumped. “We’re going to die up here. Don’t you get it, Max? We’re going to fucking die, there’s nowhere else to go, none of us know how to defeat an army of zombies, so what the hell are we even going to…”

  Before Casey could finish her breathy, high-pitched stream of consciousness, Max tipped his head forward and kissed her.

  And suddenly, everything was silent. She could no longer hear the zombies beating at the barrier between them, nor the sound of blood thumping too quickly in her ears, nor her desperate gasps for air. There were only Max’s lips, rough and chapped and warm, moving against her own; and their teeth scraping together; and their tongues sliding slowly in a dance that felt new and familiar, all at the same time. Dimly she could feel Jeff still rubbing her back, and now his other hand held her knee and squeezed it before traveling up her thigh. She felt his lips on the nape of her neck, and she sighed into Max’s mouth. There wasn’t time to consider how strange this was, that three roommates who’d hated each other only weeks, perhaps even moments ago, were now touching each other in ways they’d never allowed themselves to before. Or maybe that was the point: there wasn’t time anymore for that. They really were all going to die very soon, and each of the three of them knew it. Somehow, they’d all silently agreed: if death was waiting at their doorstep, they weren’t going to go out of this world without fulfilling the fantasy they’d each been harboring.

  Casey lifted her arm and cupped the back of Jeff’s head as his mouth traveled around her neck to where her jaw bone met her ear, his teeth nibbling and sucking at her freckled skin. She moaned and felt Max grin into her lips. Then she felt a thumb brush her left nipple, and instantly she could feel it harden. Thank God she’d given up on wearing a bra a week ago. Max’s hand massaged her breast, tweaking her nipple when it began to soften, his fingers finding places on her chest that had never been so lovingly handled. Just as he pinched her again, Jeff’s hand cupped her mound between her legs and began rocking his palm against her. Casey bucked up into his touch and gasped. Max and Jeff paused and traded a grin, then moved so that Max was behind her and Jeff was between her outstretched legs.

  Max’s breath was hot in her ear as he suckled at her earlobe, his hands traveling over her breasts and down to the hem of her t-shirt. He lifted it up as she obediently raised her hands and tugged the material over her head. She felt his tongue tracing the pattern of freckles on her now bare shoulder, his hands circling and pressing against her breasts, and when she arched into him she could feel his forming erection pressing into the knots of her spine. Now Jeff leaned in to kiss her, and his kiss was deliciously different: all rough and tug and bite and suck and gnashing teeth, his hand still cupping her and delighting in the wet patch beginning to form on her underwear. She grabbed a fistful of his gleaming golden hair, her other hand reaching back to palm at Max’s trapped cock. Max hissed and thrust himself against her. Jeff, meanwhile, sucked on her bottom lip and hooked his rough thumbs underneath the waistband of her underwear, tugging until the flimsy fabric was down past her ankles and onto the floor. Jeff pulled away, a line of spittle strung between them, and he looked so gloriously red and wrecked that Casey leaned up to kiss him again. But Jeff kept his head out of her reach and grinned deviously. He trailed his mouth down over her collarbone to her breasts, where his tongue teasingly circled her pink areolas and his teeth came down just enough to make her buck her hips up. Max, seeing an opportunity, massaged down her ribs and her stomach to the front of her body, his fingers curling in her red pubic hair and brushing the tip of her clitoris ever so lightly. Casey gasped audibly
and let her head tip back onto Max’s shoulder.

  “You like this, Red?” she heard Max murmur in her ear.

  “God, yes,” she said, her voice strained, her breasts and hips rising and falling rhythmically as they tried to come into contact with the boys’ hands and mouth. These assholes were teasing her, mercilessly, and she felt a smirk form on her own mouth as she realized they were playing with her. So many zombie fists slammed against the trap door and made the trunk shudder, but Casey was beyond noticing petty things like impending doom.

  “You jerks,” she panted, “would you just fucking touch me already!”

  “Always so demanding, Red,” said Max’s warm voice into her hair as he nuzzled the side of her head. His thumb brushed her clit again, and now Casey could feel the juices of her arousal pooling in her folds and dripping onto the floor.

  “You don’t always get what you want,” said Jeff, smiling, her nipple in his mouth and then against his cheek as he pressed his face against her heaving breasts. Casey almost came just looking into his green eyes, and she let her head fall back again onto the muscled shoulder behind her. She had no control here, she knew. Her bossiness would get her nowhere.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  Max began rubbing himself against her back, his hardened cock now more than evident. She wiggled against him, and found herself rewarded with a hitch in his breath.

  “I suppose I can reward you for that,” Max whispered, and pressed down on her throbbing, pounding clit. The effect was instantaneous: Casey cried out and thoughtlessly wrapped her bare thighs around Jeff’s torso, gyrating against the force of Max’s fingers. His pinkie finger dipped in and out of the corners of her labial folds, and Casey gripped Jeff tighter. In response, Jeff brought one rough hand to cup her ass – God, finally, how long had she dreamed of that sensation – and teased her tight, puckered anus with his index finger. Then he and Max shared a look, and in one motion, they entered both of her openings with their fingers.