AN: this is 100% pure porn without plot. I just banged it out one afternoon (pun totally intended) while suffering from hormone rage and lack of sleep, and thought I'd share. Feel free to leave a review. ;)
Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
The house I came across late that afternoon was a welcome fucking sight, but what I found inside was even better. I'd lost the buck I was tracking somewhere between the rainstorm and a dozen walkers, and after the bullshit morning I'd had with that fucking pig Walsh, I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the quarry.
I found her in the back parlor of an abandoned house—wet from the rain and all alone. She looked anxious to say the least, but she trained a rifle on me, as I pushed my way inside, having taken out all but three of the walkers, before barricading the door behind me.
"Get out," she said, shifting her weight, shaking her long, damp hair over her shoulders, and awkwardly adjusting her weapon.
"Darlin'," I said, glancing back at her. She was a sporty-looking girl—probably an athlete before the shit hit the fan—but she was no killer. "I ain't goin' nowhere. Not 'til these geeks are gone or the rain or both."
"There're others coming," she said, sounding all together unconvincing. "My group—they'll be back for me, and they won't be happy to find a strange man in here."
I slung my crossbow over my shoulder and started pulling blinds and curtains, blocking the sight of fresh meat from the walkers fumbling outside the windows. "I'ma guarantee no one's comin' anytime soon what with this storm, so ya best get used t'me."
She watched me dumbly, doing her level best to follow my every move with the heavy rifle in her arms. The more I looked at her, it was clear she was road-weary and that rifle was definitely not her weapon of choice. If I had to guess, she'd been separated from her group just a short time before and she was still trying to wrap her brain around it.
I shot her a look and nodded toward the china hutch across the room "Ya wanna keep that cute little ass a yours alive, help me move this hutch in front a them windows." I glared at here until she got my meaning and sprung into action.
Once we'd secured all entrances and it sounded like the walkers were calming down if not wandering off, she caught my eye. "I don't really know where my group is," she sighed.
I nodded slowly. "'S find somethin' t'eat," I said, making my way across the room again and into the kitchen. I hoped there was a can of beans or something laying around. I heard her trailing, not far behind me.
"Can't believe they left me," she said, sounding a little miffed. I didn't say anything—just started looking through cabinets. I found a tin of sardines, some crackers, and a can of baked beans.
"Here." I handed her the sardines, showing her the key because she didn't really strike me as the kind of girl who'd be familiar with that particular delicacy. Then I tore into the package of saltines and popped the beans open with my knife. "Dinner," I said, dipping a cracker into the beans and leaning back against the countertop.
She set the tin next the other food and eyed the meager spread warily. Eventually, she picked a cracker out of the package like it was full of spiders.
"Where ya from?" I asked, looking her up and down, taking in her suntanned arms and chest and the light freckles across her cute little nose. Her hair was blonde, but the rain made it look darker, and it was curling up at the ends from all the water.
Yeah, she was a nice surprise.
"California," she sighed again, finally settling next to me and gnawing on the cracker she'd pulled from the package. "I'm a senior at Georgia State." She shot me a sideways glance, and her eyes traveled over my own arms and chest, like mine just had over hers.
"College girl, huh?" I said, scooping a sardine out of the tin with a cracker and watching her eyes follow my movements. She took on a look of determination and snatched a new cracker of her own from the wrapper and proceeded to attack the sardines.
I guessed she'd decided she was hungrier than she was worried about losing her friends at that point.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, the rain beating down on the roof of the little shack as it grew darker outside. I spotted a mostly empty pantry on the other side of the room, but there were a few shadows of tall bottles in there. I shoved the rest of my last cracker in my mouth and licked my fingers clean before pulling my flashlight from my pocket and flicking it on.
"I'll be damned," I said, finding two bottles of red wine in the pantry. "I'd say we hit the jackpot, darlin'." I bit down on my light between my teeth and grabbed for both bottles then turned to show her.
"No friggin' way," she said around a mouthful of beans, looking like she hadn't had a drop of liquor in about as long as I hadn't.
"Y'old 'nough to drink?" I asked, and she snatched one of the bottles from me, and rolled her eyes.
"Please," she said, cracking the cap from the bottle in her hand. "I'm social chair in my sorority."
I whistled in mock appreciation, and she stuck her tongue out at me.
"Better put that thing away unless ya plan on usin' it," I said, unscrewing my own cap and flicking my eyes up to meet hers. She didn't look away.
"And what if I plan on using it?" she asked, taking a dainty, little sip from her bottle.
The fucking verbal foreplay didn't let up the drunker we got. We wound up on the living room floor in the dark, propped against the couch, talking about hole in the wall bars in rural Georgia, where her and her sorority sisters liked hanging out from time to time. Turned out Princess Social Chair liked her whiskey, too. And tattoos. And motorcycles.
"Oh, my God, you have a motorcycle, too?!" she was on her knees in front of me, straddling one of my outstretched legs, running her hands all over my arms and what she could see of my back tat, like a kid in damn candy store. I didn't have the heart to tell her the bike was Merle's.
Before I knew it, the girl had kicked her boots off and was wiggling out of her jeans. I sat drinking the last of my wine, watching her move in the little bit of light that spilled through the curtains from the moon. Her skin… she was bronzed, and toned, and young—so fucking young.
"Wha's your name, sweetheart?" I asked, as she crawled over my lap in a tiny pair of panties and one of those thin, little tops with skinny straps.
"Sweetheart," she answered, dipping her head to kiss me. "You can call me sweetheart."
I let her have a minute, nipping and pulling at my lips before I pushed her to the floor in front of the couch and settled on my knees between her open legs. I pushed her top up over her tits, and they bounced free—her nipples tight and a pretty pink, and her chest rapidly rising and falling.
I grabbed one in each hand and squeezed, pulling her nipples between my thumbs and the knuckles of my forefingers. She hissed through her teeth and arched her back, reaching for the waist of my pants, her legs spreading wider on either side of my knees. I dipped my hand and ran my fingertips along the elastic of her panties then pushed them inside, sliding my knuckles along her slit to feel her. She was fucking wet and hot and my fingers came away slick and shining.
I sucked my first and middle knuckles clean because I hadn't had pussy since before the fucking walkers showed up. She tasted good, too—tangy and just a little bit sweet.
"Take 'em off," I said, and she immediately obey, lifting her hips and ridding us of that obstacle.
When she settled back again, legs open wide on either side of my knees, half-sitting, her hair spilling over her shoulders in the moonlight, I pushed my middle finger all the way inside her with one hand and played with her nipples with my other hand. She groaned and bucked her hips, then leaned forward, fumbling with my belt, her short nails scraping against my stomach.
"God, you're hot," she whispered and yanked at my pants, her wild hair all around her face and shoulders. Her eyes were so dark, they were almost black—a welcome change from the walkers I saw and killed day in and day out.
"Nice and wet." I slipped another finger inside her. "Drinking screw cap wine with dirty rednecks makes ya wet?"
She grinned, ignoring my question and finally getting my pants undone, squirming closer to me. "I want to feel you," she said with fire in her eyes. "I'm gonna bet you feel really fucking good. Make me forget about losing my friends."
"Oh, I can make ya do a lotta things, sweetheart." I pulled my dick out of my pants, daydreaming about putting it in her mouth, fucking her throat, but she was so wet and practically begging.
She pulled her shirt all the way off and tossed it to the side with her panties, then started to work on my shirt, but I wouldn't let her. I grabbed her wrists on my hands and dropped forward on all fours, dragging her hands up and pinning them to the floor.
"Fuck!" she hissed, making a sound like an animal. "I'll do whatever you want," she said, breathing heavy, her eyes wild, making me harder than I could remember ever being. I buried my face in her neck, grazing her skin with my teeth, and she closed her legs around my hips.
"Come on," she whispered and pulled one of my ear lobes between her teeth and lips.
"Condom?" I asked, letting go of one of her wrists and grabbing my dick, teasing her with it, getting the tip nice and wet in the process.
"In the pocket of my jeans," she breathed and bucked her hips.
I stretched over her body and reached for her pants just above her head. Her legs tightened around me and her hands slid from my shoulders down over my chest and stomach, making me shiver. She grabbed a hold of my wrist, rubbing my dick along her slit.
I leaned back on my knees and ripped the condom package open with my teeth, but kept my hips close enough for her to keep playing with me, slipping through her wetness. I moved forward a little, pushing just the tip inside her.
"Yes." She gasped, arching her neck, and pulling at my hips with her legs and hands. "That's what I want."
"Yeah?" I asked, pushing inside her a little deeper, but not quite all the way. "How much? I wanna hear ya beg." I dropped over her again and licked and bit her collarbones and the tight skin of her throat, shallow thrusts, just an inch at a time.
"Please," she begged, rolling her hips. I sank deeper inside her before I remembered the condom in my hand.
"Greedy little bitch," I said, pulling out of her, making her whimper as she watched me roll the latex over my hard-on.
I palmed the inside of her thigh and pushed her open wider, then braced my other hand beside her head. I was so fucking hard, and she was so fucking wet that I slid right fucking home—all the way, fast and hard. She tightened, almost painfully around me and made a noise deep in her throat. It sounded a lot like pain, so I didn't move for a second. I balanced on my forearms on either side of her slight shoulders, looking down into her face.
"Look a'me," I said, and her eyes slowly fluttered open. "Okay?" I asked, and she nodded, bringing her hands up to rest on my chest. Her knees arched on either side of my hips and she shifted underneath me.
"You're… big," she whispered. "Just go slow?" Her brow furrowed.
Fuck, I did not want to go slow. I dropped my head to her collarbone and took a few deep breaths before pulling out part of the way and pushing back in.
"Relax," I muttered against her chest, swiping my tongue over her skin then pushing up on my hands. "Can't make ya feel good if ya don't relax."
Then I pulled out all the way, keeping the condom in place, and sat back on my heels again. She sighed and put a hand over her eyes, like she was embarrassed or something. "No, no," I said, reaching for her hand and pulling her up. "C'mere. Up."
She sat up, and let me maneuver her over my lap. "You drive," I said, catching her eye, and she mirrored my smirk. "C'mon. Get on top." I pulled her across my lap and easily slid inside her again. This time she moaned and slid her hand up into the back of my hair.
"Tha's it," I said, wrapping her long, curly hair around my wrist and arching her neck. Fuck, her tits were gorgeous. I couldn't keep my mouth off of them—nipples like little, ripe berries.
She settled her hands on my shoulders again and started to ride me. She started out slow, just rotating her hips, not a lot of in and out, but it felt good and she smelled good, and the sounds she made were fucking hotter than Hell.
Then she started to rise and fall, pumping me in and out of her—wet sounds coming from where my dick disappeared inside her. She snaked a hand down between us then and started touching herself. Shit, she was getting herself off good.
"Good girl," I whispered, scraping her sweat-dampened skin with my teeth, pulling her nipples into my mouth. "Fuck me." She picked up her pace and started getting tight again in a pulsing rhythm. "Tha's right."
We were both breathing heavy and her tits were heaving. My hand slid from her hair down to the small of her back, and she arched over where I supported her. My other hand couldn't leave her tits alone—hard nipples and soft, round flesh. Her mouth hung open and the clenching of her pussy sped up.
"Ya comin'? Huh?" I could feel her, but I wanted to hear her, too. "Tell me."
My hands slid to her hips then and pushed her to her back. I wanted to pound into her, and I did. "Tell me how good it feels," I said, pulling the skin of her throat between my teeth and fucking her hard.
"Oh, my God!" she moaned loudly.
She was still vibrating around me when I came harder than I ever remember coming inside anyone in recent memory.
We were both pulling our pants back on when we heard voices and saw beams of light just outside the shack.
"It's them," she said, jumping to her feet and running to one of the windows. "They came back!" She turned her full grin on me, then ran to her boots and pushed her feet into them.
The voices got louder, and I pulled out a cigarette as she scurried to clear the front door.
"Sure tha's your friends, sweetheart?" I asked, flicking my lighter and immediately inhaling, watching her cute little ass shimmy with the effort of moving the chair from under the doorknob.
"Yes," she answered, grabbing her rifle from the floor and hoisting it over her shoulder. "I recognize their voices."
I nodded, drawing on my smoke and watching her beat a hasty retreat to the exit. She looked back at me with her hand on the knob. "Thanks," she said with a small smile. "For dinner."
I shook my head. "Thank you, sweetheart," I replied, and she pulled the door open, running out to meet her friends.