Pissing on the Zombie Bitches - Chapter 7 - Sex Stories

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Pissing on the Zombie Bitches - Chapter 7

Date: 11/20/2017, Categories: Fantasy & Sci-Fi, Author: Mili, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

This was inspired by a fan. For Becky. "Kayaks?" Rebekka looked incredulously across the rows of slim, narrow boat shapes that appeared before us after we broke the lock of the large door of the boat house. We had left the castle with our backpacks stuffed with snacks that we plundered from a machine downstairs, each carrying a long spear in one hand, and a firm buckler shield in another. Becky had found pieces of armor that she strapped to her shoulders and upper arms, hoping it would protect her better from zombie bites. We soon went off the streets and into the nearby shrubs and woods, taking a detour downhill to the river that would keep us out of the most zombie-infested areas. On our way we had gone through a restaurant, taking what little food we could find that wasn't already spoiled or rotten. When we finally arrived at the boat house, we were fairly well stocked, but heavily loaded. I ran my fingers through my hair, breathing in deep. "Well," I said, "the last time I was here was as a little girl, and they seemed a lot bigger then to me." I shrugged. I hated sports and tried to stay away from any physical education as much as I could, so I never had anything to do with the local sports club, outside of some semi-compulsory "trial" days. The only thing I remembered was that we had boats at the sports club. Turns out, the boats were kayaks. "We'll never be able to transport all this stuff on a kayak," Rebekka pointed out, having dropped her armor, backpack and ... weapons against the side of the building. "Ah, fuck," I said, frustrated with shame and desperation. "I'm sorry, okay? It was a stupid plan." Rebekka smiled at me and put her arm around my neck. "No, the plan is good," she said. "Just those boats aren't. We need to find better ones." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Next to us, behind some shrubs, the Passer thundered down its valley, muffling the sounds of distant moans coming from the road above. "We need to get to Bozen," I said. "The river is much wider there, and maybe we'll find a real boat." Rebekka nodded. "Sounds alright with me," she said. "At least we're following it downstream towards the sea. Just how do we get there?" I paused for a moment. "I guess we can forget about cars," I said. "The streets are blocked here already, I can't imagine how it'll be on the Autobahn. And I really don't want to run into a traffic jam where all the other drivers are zombies." "So... we walk?" Rebekka asked. I looked weary towards my backpack and the heavy medieval gear we brought. "I guess," I sighed. An hour later we roared along the MeBo speedway, on the back of an old Kawasaki motocross bike. "I didn't know you could drive motorcycles," Rebekka said, holding onto me as tight as she could, her hands almost cupping my breasts. We had found the bike in yet another traffic jam, where it must've run into a few cars. The fork was slightly bent and there were scratches all over one side, but it was still running well. Of course, we ...