Living amongst the Dead

by J. Morgan

  The feet returned to the couch, he got up, and she heard the back door open and close. A quiet sigh of frustration followed him, though went unheard of course. He went to piss on the side of the house, well away from the grave however. She opened her eyes, looked around, the candles were a lovely touch even though he only put them there for a practical purpose. It put her more in the mood, made her feel friskier. What to do?! Looking down at herself, she thought that trying to show more cleavage or something like that would be too obvious. Sure he was drunk, but she didn’t want to take any chances, to make him think that she was leading him on.

  Lower the pants a little? No, no, that’s foolish… um… well… he does seem to like her softness. At least, she thought he did. Her undershirt was pulled up to bring it out of her pants. He had positioned her comfortably with her upper body lying on some pillows against the arm rest. She shifted about, trying to make it feel natural, like movements in her sleep. She slid down, her shirt hiked up in response, exposed a bit of her lower belly. A moan in relief was sounded outside along with the urination. The weather remained overcast, but it was not raining, so that sound of water was obviously him.

  It’s risky, but she pulled her pants down a little, showing those lines on either side of her bare pubic area, those suggestive lines that lead to one’s genitalia. She adjusted her breasts, trying to make them seem as pronounced as possible, wishing she hadn’t worn a bra so her nipples could be visible from under her clothes due to hardness, and she knew they were hard. She could feel it, wanted to feel his hands on them… she wanted to make things up to him. Today Tiffany thought she was alone again, like those months in Strathcom. She had learned the sensation of a man’s touch from Richard, learned the feeling of security, and the sense that maybe she won’t just run out of food. Living off looting in that town was obviously a short-term plan to a long-term problem. Getting water from toilets, from the lake north of town down a trail in the woods, or from bottles left behind.

  This man knew how to survive, he could make her life better, and… she felt… he wasn’t as bad as she was making him out to be. Here he was; caring for her, redressing her hand, rubbing her feet… yeah it kinda felt like he was getting frisky on her before when he was pervertedly rubbing his crotch with her ankle, but she liked it. She liked feeling desired, liked knowing how amazing he can make her feel, and missed being in his arms. She wanted to be there even more now that they were clean… or at least… cleaner.

  Right hand went down between her legs, giving a few light rubs to her crotch, enjoying the sensation but also… in spite of how embarrassing it made her feel, trying to give herself a cameltoe. Surely he wouldn’t notice that the hem of her pants had somehow both slipped down and ‘rode up’. The shirt coming out shouldn’t be hard to believe… should it? The back door was heard opening, she went back to laying down, head tilted towards the left, left leg and left arm hanging, right arm on her belly, right leg on the couch with its foot nearly to the arm rest due to having ‘slid down’ from where she had been propped up again pillows.

  “Well well, bein’ a lil’ couch hog, are we?” He whispered in reproval to her, though of course not wishing her to awaken; she could probably use the rest after the injury she got and blood she lost. It was difficult for her to keep a straight face, which was already blushing heavily, however in the very dim light it was hardly noticeable. The plan had worked better than expected; he lowered down his body onto hers, though just the torso, while his stance was wide at the side of the sofa. Hugging her tightly to him, she felt his strength, his warmth, and though could smell the liquor on his breath, could also smell him, but not that somewhat overly musky him of their first night here. A cleaner him, punctuated by the freshly dried sweat, though not so much so that it overcame her. It was difficult not to hug back, but she managed to resist.

  “Mmgh…” he grunted, pulling her up to her original sitting position with torso resting on an angle against cushions, including the pillow from the small bedroom which he intended to leave empty tonight. Tomorrow night?... they’ll have to see. The plan wasn’t perfect however, he seemed not to have noticed her somewhat exposed midsection however the way he moved her, she felt her pants slip down a little farther. A shudder nearly took the woman at the embarrassed feeling of nether regions becoming more exposed in front of someone while her eyes were closed, unable to see to what extent.

  “There y’go, me girl, nice n’ comf-…” there was silence… what did he see? Could he see the top of her slit, or just some of her newly bare pubic area? She couldn’t tell. An audible sigh came from him, there was stillness, a painful silence, and then she felt his hands on her lap. Right up against her crotch, bare flesh felt on her upper pubic area and the very highest reaches of her nether region where lap met stomach. “Shaved?...” Tiff almost squeaked a moan at hearing the whispered word, and could feel his fingertips there, where her pubes had once been, feeling the softness. Judging from how it did not go lower, she thought that perhaps her pussy was still hidden. This was helping her very much in taking her mind off the faintly throbbing pain of her hand.

  His hands rose oddly, though she were hoping they would go lower, and glided along her belly… he really was a chubby chaser, though she personally didn’t consider herself big enough to be considered chubby. Maybe a LITTLE above the average healthy weight, but not much. He would disagree, though not extremely. It was difficult to keep her breathing even, calm, and undetectable as his hands continued to rise, bringing up her shirt, exposing her belly to the air warmed by fire. How adventurous, how brave, almost brazen… and there they were; squeezing her breasts, though sadly outside her damned bra. Maybe she really SHOULD burn it… Hell, she could go bare-chested if she wanted, it wasn’t against the law, but this woman knew that she didn’t have the courage to go bare on her upper-body, not while doing everyday things as though it were casual.

  Mouth hung open as head drooped to the left, and while her left breast was being rubbed, she felt another hand, his left hand, sliding down, and it slid down her pants and panties with ease. He was rubbing her, God yes, please, never stop; she wanted to be pleasured by him forever. Tiff’s right arm had already been brought to her side, out of the way, and left arm still hung down. A zipper… that had to be a zipper she heard, oh my God what was he doing? All she could see is blackness, and could no longer feel his hands.

  That scent… she heard creaks on the floor near her head, and could smell that he, his masculinity, was bare, and mere inches from her face. Warm, hard meat, though with a soft and fleshy sheath, was felt on her lips. Then a hand, it touched her gently, a thumb coming to her lips while the cock had come away, parted them, and with teeth already slightly parted, the tip of that thumb lowered her jaw. She let it lower willingly, and then… his taste was back. Oh sweet Jesus yes. Sliding gently, in and out, in and out, though never so far as to make her gag, which he was quite capable of doing should he go too deep.

  “Ahhhhh, yeah… mmm… I’ve gotcha, baby… I’ll keep ye safe… I’ll get ye back t’health… but please… fer me… let me have dis… tis bin a hard dey… and so I’d like t’have a hard night…”

  “Mm-…”

  “Eh?” His soft thrusting in her mouth stopped, he thought he had heard… and felt… something come from her. The cock left, her mouth still left drooping, lips moist from the saliva being brought from inside, onto his cock, then to her lips as it moved. He could feel her breathing, see her chest and stomach rising and falling, no, it hadn’t been a moan of death… she wasn’t rousing yet either, so he continued, but first. He leaned down to her face, felt her breath on him, and so opened his mouth. Their open lips came together, and his tongue ventured her mouth, tasting her, and even a little tiny bit of him which he didn’t mind. She could feel it slithering about her gaping gob, feeling it especially on her tongue, tasting both his heads now, technically.

  His mouth came away, he was fumbling with her white jacket know, definitely unbuttoning it,
and the red blouse underneath was being lifted, higher and higher, until her bare back was on the couch and the cloth was trapped above her breasts. Arms reached around her, bra undone, felt it loosen, and it was, too, moved out of the way as best he could. Hands reached under whatever fabric might have still covered them, and she felt his direct touch. Heaven; the squeezing, the pinching, and ah… there it was… the wetness… the heat… the sucking… he was suckling her.

  She sucked in the left side of her lip, biting it, not able to help her eyebrows arching in pleasure, hoping that whatever he might or might not notice would be passed off as her having a good dream in her sleep brought on by this. Oh God, what was he doing?... one of his hands was down her panties again, rubbing her, a finger diving in seemingly as far as it can go, meanwhile she felt coldness on the nipple that had just felt such heat from his mouth. He was softly blowing on it, the wind rushing past stirring up sensations, hardening the nipple incredibly, and then it was plunged into heat again. A hot breath of air came from her; she couldn’t control her breathing anymore.

  Blowing again, and also the rubbing between her legs, it was driving her mad, she might just cum already if this keeps up!... and her body tensed. With his middle finger, he was lightly flicking the nipple up and down RAPIDLY. So hard, the sensation of coolness from blowing, and now this rapid motion with the speed of that finger flicking that stiff nipple was stirring up a small breeze of its own which further cooled the moist nub on her breast.

  “Ahn…” she moaned, unable to control it, but still tried to pretend to sleep. He wasn’t stopping, in fact he was advancing. Pants and underwear was being taken off, she could feel the fabric of his shirt on her right leg as it were risen; it came onto his left shoulder, left leg was left to hang over the front of the couch, and then… “Ah… ah… ah… ah…” each breath was a pant, an open-mouthed pant, still facing off to the left with closed eyes. He was licking her, and seemed even more rigorous than before, more thorough, more penetrating when the tongue entered her, more enthusiastic as it flicked the swollen button of her clitoris, mouth slurping as the tongue ran up and down the slit, tasting her juices.

  It felt like it had only just started, yet her body seized, shuddered, writhed, breath went ragged, until finally she went limp again, still feigning sleep though didn’t know if there was any point to it. He seemed too far gone to stop now… what a pervert she thought, doing all this while she slept, and yet it turned her on so much to think that this beast of a man so desired her that he would risk being seen as essentially a molester… and being so much younger than her? 1990, didn’t he say? He was a 90s kid! Not even 30! She was just as close to 40 as she was to 30, yet here was this… no, not kid… this man… his mouth wetted by her juices, being licked to taste her, his head rising up off her crotch having watched her orgasm, and now she could feel his breath on her womanhood. What was he going to do now?... what was this man, a fair bit younger than herself, who should be going for men in their 40s or close to it by now at least, going to do to her?

  Fuck feminism, she thought… fuck it… she didn’t know the world… the world she thought she knew, this ‘man’s world’, this world where all men are rapist pigs, misogynists, always looking to keep women down, looking to pay them less, looking to stay on top in their patriarchy by any means necessary… it was all a lie, a farce. Here she was, the end of the world, civilization gone, laws gone, modern technology for the most part gone, no cops, no courts which had so often unfairly preferred women over men, no juries who often done the same, and she was with a confident, cis-gendered, straight, Caucasian man. At least she assumed he was straight; didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would go for other dudes. Well here she was with the supposed symbol of privilege; yet he was in retrospect, in spite of how terrible she had been to him, giving her a good life.

  He was doing the work, he was tending to her needs provided she was halfway decent to him, he fed her, kept her safe, tended to the dirty work of fighting, burying, fishing, keeping the stove burning, and even cooking. If EVER there was a world where men would be in a position of privilege and women in a possible position of being made into slaves… this was it. Nothing kept him from beating her furiously, raping her ravagingly, spitting verbal abuse at her, teaching her not to speak unless spoken to, not to go outside without his permission, and to open her legs whenever and wherever he wanted. Nothing kept him from doing this… but himself.

  She had been treated… well… harshly when she herself was being harsh, but in spite of everything, finding her weak and wounded, having lost a fair bit of blood though thankfully not a dangerous amount, he had been caring for her. Sure, he was now technically molesting her, but she didn’t see it this way. She wanted this, and was getting it.

  “God you taste wicked, Tiffany, me girl… mmm… oh God I need more!” His voice was breathy having just brought his head up from that first orgasm of hers, dripping with lust, with desire, and she knew he must have been unbearably hard, and knew that SHE would be the one to satisfy that cock just as he-

  “Nnh!... ah… ah… ah…” the panting breaths came back as he went at her cunt some more, he seemed to relish in it as much as she did. Tonguing of the clit, licking at the entrance of her pussy, going along her slit, sucking the clitoris, then start fingering her as he suckles that precious little button. “Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh…” faster and deeper were the panted moans, head rocking over to look to her right, but then rolled right back to her left, left arm moved where it hung, face twitched as pain was felt in the moved hand being reminded of the wound. As he fingers and suckled her womanhood, resting on his chest between her legs, his free left hand reached up, and quite good reach did it have… pinched nipples, squeezed breast.

  Too much, it was too much, and her back arched, thighs squeezed on his head, her eyes opened, head bucked back, mouth hung open, “Aaaauuuuuuuunh…. Richard… RICHARD! Ohhhhhhhhh RiiIIICHarrrrd!... Nnnnn-auh… Ooooooooo…” Various pitches, mostly high pitched, but occasional low ones, moaning his name, finally the head came down, looked to him, and he looked back up, now crawling forward from her crotch.

  “Tiffany, I need ye, baby… oh you have me so hard…”

  “Come her, fuck me Richard. Please, never leave again and just take me.” Her arms were out to him, legs still open, smooth flesh feeling his hairy torso as it glided past, and so with nothing on her lower half but socks and nothing on her upper half but a jacket that was completely open as well as a blouse that was rolled up over her breast along with the loose bra, he mounted her, sliding his cock in.

  “Yer wish is my ‘appy command, Tiff… take it, baby… take it… mmph, take my cock… you like that? Do you like that?” The thrusting was immediate and ferocious, her pale, meaty legs bouncing about on his hips.

  “OH GoD, yeS, yOu hot NEWfie FUck!” her voice jumped as he thrust at her, bouncing her body. She could feel the shaking hurt her hand, but did not care much for that right now; she wanted him, wanted to latch on with her pussy and NEVER let go, do everything she can to try and give him even HALF the pleasure he had just given her with TWO successive orgasms, and now with the thrusting, though it didn’t quite resonate with her as much as his cunnilingus, she could feel a third slowly coming on.

  At hearing her call him Newfie, the thrusting quickened incredibly, and she gave out a long, deep, bounced moan. She hugged him tightly to her with her right arm, leaving the wounded left where it was, gangling off the couch. Heavy balls slapped against her ass as he thrust over and over and over in her, arms scooped around her back, lips taking hers, kissing as his hips savaged the woman.

  “MMMMMMM!” she squealed closed-mouth onto his lips at the vicious fucking, thinking that her third orgasm might very well come sooner than she thought. She found herself shivering in under him, waves of pleasure jarring her body as she ripped her lips from his, moved her face to the side of his so it was in the crook of his neck, and continued the squeal there before it teetered out.

 
“I love t’hear yer moan, you hot, foxy woman. Jaysus Chroist a’mighty you’re sexy… damn sexy when yer not brea’din foire.” He whispered in her ear, the breathing fire was in regards to her bouts of anger, of swearing, of being generally unpleasant with her feminist ideals.

  “Oh-h-h-h-h…” she started with a moan, bouncing with the thrusts, and felt his right hand come out from under her, slither in between them, and then squeeze her left breast. It made her feel hotter as she heard him address their age gap, calling her a ‘foxy woman’ which wasn’t typically a term associated with women his age or younger she didn’t think. It turned her on. “I’m sorry… Richard… I’m so… sorry… please… never leave…” It was gasped, little more than a word at a time whispered back to him, and his savage pace of fucking began to slow down a little; he was feeling close to cumming already, but wanted to keep at it.

  “Just don’t… be unpleasant anymore… alright? I was tempted t’leave… but couldn’…” the fact that this was a better place to prepare the deer, bottle it, and feast on it until either the meat ran out or went bad didn’t seem like a tactful thing to bring up. Breathing the words out similarly, becoming winded with the rough humping, he reflected on how he really did want to leave. To leave her with the supplies she clearly needed, and then let her live her own life since he felt like half the time she didn’t want anything to do with him. It caused such anguish in him that while half the time was Hell, the other half was so good; where they couldn’t get enough of each other. Rich just hoped that tomorrow morning, or Hell, even later tonight, this wouldn’t end up being fucked up for whatever reason. Don’t let more arguments ruin this…

  “Ohhh God, please, keep going hard, I’m close to cumming again, please! Mmm, please do-on’t le-ea-vvvvvvveeeeeeee…” Tacking on her wish for him to stay at the end, by then he listened to her and continued his rough fucking of her even though it was driving him closer and closer to orgasm, knowing that his orgasm would mean they’d have to stop. The thrusting bounced her words, and she turned the final vowel of ‘leave’ into a high-pitched moan. “You’re so… unh… so young… so… God… I don’t… NNH!... MANLY!” Her mind was practically shutting down, the dizziness of the injury, the intense pleasure he was giving her, she just shouted out the word, and it made him smile. Both the compliment of his comparative youth, and his manliness.