Chapter 3: Let’s Have Sex [3] [R-18 Contents!]

The bra loosened, straps falling an inch from her shoulders. She let it slide down her arms, not hurried. The lace caught for a moment at her elbows—then it fell.

Before I could drink her in, before my gaze could fully devour the sight I’d been aching for, Emily’s arms flew up, crossing over her chest in a panicked, protective gesture. The heat of shame flushed bright across her cheeks, and she trembled slightly—not from cold, but something far more tender and raw. Her lip quivered, not with fear, but pride wrestling with vulnerability. No one had ever seen her like this. Not even Tommy, her boyfriend. Not anyone.

I rose from my spot, my body carrying me toward her without hesitation. Maybe the infection had made me stronger—physically, emotionally. Maybe I didn’t care anymore about hiding want. I grasped her wrist, fingers curling firmly, possessively, but not unkindly. “You’re still hesitating?” I asked.

She looked up, lips trembling, eyes glassy, and slowly let me move her arm aside.

And then—

I gasped, an involuntary sound. There they were—real, impossibly close. Breasts that made every fantasy I’d ever had feel like a child’s sketch of desire. Her nipples were a soft rose-gold, tight in the chill of the room and the weight of my gaze. She wasn’t small. No, there was a generous fullness to her that begged for hands and lips, a softness that seemed made to be touched, adored.

I reached out, the back of my hand brushing against the outer curve of her right breast, savoring the warmth of her skin. My fingertips traced the slope up toward her nipple, and her breath caught audibly.

“Hnnnn…” Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling, body going rigid at first from the sheer intimacy. I watched her chest rise, trembling slightly as her breath came shallow and fast. And I couldn’t stop myself.

I leaned forward, my mouth parted, drawn like a starving man, and let my lips brush her skin, tasting her for the first time.

“Mmh—!” She gasped, sharp and surprised, her body shivering as I opened my mouth wider and enveloped her nipple. I groaned into her, tongue circling, drawing her into me slowly but insistently.

Her moans only spurred me, her whimpers turning into breathless little cries as my hands cupped her breasts, palms pressing, fingers splaying possessively. “Aahhh… haahn…” Her back arched subtly, hips shifting, knees twitching inward.

I sucked, deeper this time, cheeks hollowing slightly, my tongue flicking against the tip before I pulled away just enough to lick slow circles around the aureole. She flinched—her toes curled tight into the ground as though trying to root herself, her fingers finding my hair and threading into it, gripping lightly at first, then harder as her breathing grew ragged.

I didn’t stop. Why would I? This was the first time I’d ever tasted a girl’s breast—licked, kissed, sucked like it was the sweetest fruit I’d ever known. I licked and sucked, switching to her other breast, drawing soft wet trails between them. Her moans became low and continuous.

“Haah… nghh… aah, yes… th-that’s… so good,” she gasped, and for the first time, her voice had no hesitation in it. Just need. Pure, quaking need.

Minutes passed like seconds. She trembled under my mouth, her body tense at first, but then, slowly, like melting wax, she relaxed. Her hands softened in my hair, stroking gently. She smiled—a fragile, trembling smile that felt like a sunrise.

“You’re so beautiful, Emily,” I whispered against her skin, voice muffled by the warmth of her breast. I kissed her sternum and looked up at her face. “Do you know that?”

She looked down, cheeks flushed deep, breathing still rapid. Her eyes locked on mine, and something mischievous passed through her. “You could be handsome… if you cut your hair. And if you’d shown this boldness sooner.”

This girl. Fuck.

She was going to be the end of me.

I moved on instinct. My hands slid down, fingers grazing her sides until they found her hips. And then I lifted her. Just like that. Effortless. Her gasp was sharp, surprised, legs kicking slightly as I hoisted her up and carried her to the heavy wooden table behind us. I swept my forearm across the surface in a single stroke—papers, pencils, everything clattered to the floor.

Emily’s breath caught again, but she didn’t hesitate. She lifted her legs gracefully, planting her heels on the edge of the table, her thighs opening slowly.

Inviting.

She leaned back on her hands, her eyes never leaving mine.

“You want to do it?” She asked, a teasing glint flashing in her eyes. “Or should I?”

I stepped in between her thighs, my hands already moving, sliding under her skirt. “I’ve got this.”

She froze for a moment, not really believing I would do it. And then—she exhaled, leaning back further, trusting.

I reached inside, fingers slipping beneath her waistband, finding the soft cotton warmth of her panties. “Ah…” She let out, just a breath of sound, barely a word, more like a sound of surrender.

My hand slid around her thigh, wrapping her leg around my forearm as I pulled. Her panties slid down slowly, dragged over the softness of her hips, thighs, knees. I dropped to one knee to trace them down her calves. I kissed her shin on the way. Why? I don’t know. It just felt right.

She lifted one foot, then the other. I held her panties in my hand for a second—white, delicate, damp. My breath caught again. I brought them to my face. Inhaled deeply.

“Mmm…” I didn’t hide my reaction. “Even your panties smell good. What kind of witchcraft is that?”

Her face burned a deeper red than I thought possible. “C-can you not…” She whispered, turning her face away, voice trembling.

I grinned, pocketed the warm, damp thing. “I’ll keep it. Souvenir. For heaven.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, but the smile on her lips told me everything I needed to know.

My hands went back to her thighs, spreading them gently, eyes fixed between them. Her folds were slick, glistening with her arousal, her scent heady and irresistible. Her clit peeked from beneath its hood, swollen, needy. I could see how wet she already was, even without being touched.

Emily didn’t even hesitate anymore seemingly having made up her mind fully as she allowed me to see her pink folds no one had ever seen before.

She was panting now, one hand clenched into the edge of the table, the other slowly reaching for me. I kissed the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered violently. A broken cry spilled from her lips. “Ahh—nnnngh!”

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. My tongue slid out and found her, pressed flat against her sex, lapping slowly upward. Her taste hit me like lightning. Salty-sweet, warm, earthy, alive.

“F-fuck—hahhh—!” She cried out, fingers flying back into my hair as her hips bucked forward. “D-don’t stop… don’t—”

I didn’t.

I licked, sucked, drew slow tight circles around her clit, then flattened my tongue again, savoring the way she twitched, the little cries she couldn’t hold in. Her thighs tried to clamp around my head, but I held her wide, open, laid bare.

She was falling apart, and I loved her for it.

This wasn’t some clumsy first exploration anymore. This was what life had never given us before the infection and the apocalypse—time to feel like this.

I pulled back just slightly, panting, eyes glazed. “You taste even better than you smell.”

Her voice was wrecked when she whispered, “You’re insane…”

“Only a little,” I said, and kissed her again—on her clit this time, soft, slow, gentle.

And she shattered.

Her moans came in gasps, then cries, then near-screams. “Ahhh! Nnn-haahhh—oh God—oh God! I’m—!”

Her orgasm hit right after, thighs trembling violently, hips bucking, hands digging into my hair, pulling, holding, sobbing my name.

And I held her through it, licking, kissing, letting her ride every last tremor out against my mouth, until her body sagged backward, boneless, breathless, blissfully undone.

“Ahaa… ahhh-hn… mmnh! Haaah… f-fuck, this is… amazing…” Emily’s voice was thin and shaky, her legs twitching from the aftershocks of her orgasm, the first real one she’d ever had—real, deep, and wracking. Her fingers were tangled in my hair, still trying to process the flood of pleasure pulsing through her body like heat lightning.

She’d touched herself before. Who hadn’t, in this kind of world? A girl alone at night, fingers tentative, quick gasps muffled against a pillow. But this—me with my mouth between her thighs, licking like I was half-starved, tongue tracing every velvet fold until her cries turned into near-sobbing—this was something else.

I leaned back slowly, lips glistening, tongue flicking across them to taste her one more time. She was salt and honey and skin, sweet and musky and completely addicting. I couldn’t stop smiling, darkly, stupidly. My jaw ached, my mind reeled, and some twisted part of me actually thanked the goddamn apocalypse.

Emily Johnson, the girl of my dreams and the most beautiful girl of the academy for me was laid out naked but for the rumpled schoolgirl skirt clinging half off her hips, legs sprawled open on the steel table of the underground shelter, her skin blotched with blushes and lovebites. Her chest rose and fell in ragged waves, breasts marked by kisses and my suckling mouth, each nipple still pebble-hard.

Her wide eyes found mine, half-lidded with pleasure. Her lips trembled. I could see her trying to form words, maybe to joke, maybe to protest, but her breath caught again as her thighs shivered. One last ripple of orgasm danced through her, drawing out another helpless moan. “Mmmhhh—ahnnn…!”

I was hard. So painfully hard it made me clench my teeth. I stood there trembling, fists clenched, panting like I’d run ten blocks. My jeans were tented to the breaking point, a visible throb under the denim. I was past desperate. I needed inside her. Needed her warmth, her wetness, her fucking everything.

“Emily… I can’t anymore… it hurts,” I said, almost laughing, fingers already clawing at my belt. I yanked my pants and briefs down in one frantic motion, and my cock sprang free—hard as rebar, flushed deep red, thick veins straining, a clear bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

She stared. Then gulped, audibly.

Her eyes dropped to my cock and stayed there.

“Oh… wow.”

I could barely breathe. My whole body was trembling. I reached for her ankles and lifted her legs, parting them wider, positioning myself right at her entrance—so close the heat of her kissed my tip. I didn’t even wait for her nod. I was so far past asking permission. But then…

“Wait—shit,” I muttered, blinking back reason. “Do you have protection?”

Emily’s laugh was breathless. “Ryan… who the fuck cares? I already feel the infection crawling through my blood.” Her smile widened, wicked and unhinged, her head lolling back on the table. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then do it inside. As much as you want.”

My heart thudded. My vision narrowed. I blinked again like a drunk trying to sober up, but her words only made the pressure in my cock worse.

“You’re a virgin,” I reminded her, voice hoarse.

She smiled again, lips curling with that kind of wild, end-of-the-world surrender. “Not anymore.”

Then she looked straight at me, eyes bright with tears and fire and lust. “Just fuck me, Ryan.”

That broke me. I groaned out loud as I gripped her left thigh, not gently. My cock throbbed in my hand as I lined it up against her soaked entrance, the heat of her unbearable. I probably looked crazed, because I could feel it: the way my grin twisted, teeth bared like an animal.

She was beautiful. Every part of her. From her flushed face to her sweat-slick chest, to her softly curved belly, and lower… oh, god, her cave. It was perfect. Soft pink, dewy and inviting, slick with her arousal, glistening in the low bunker light like nectar. I caught myself just staring for a second, watching it flex with each little tremor of her legs, watching the little winks of muscle like it was already calling me in.

This was madness. Beautiful, surreal madness.

I looked up one last time. She nodded, lips parted, chest rising in anticipation.

Then I pressed forward.

The head of my cock pressed against her folds, gliding between them as they parted around me, soft and slick with anticipation. Emily’s body stiffened under my touch, her breath catching in her throat, a tiny whimper breaking from her lips. Her thighs trembled, spread wide on either side of me, barely able to stay open from the tension winding her muscles tight. But she didn’t say no. She didn’t push me away. Her hips trembled, her chest rose in short, high breaths, but her hands stayed where they were—clenched at the edges of the table, knuckles pale, nails biting into the wood.

“I’m going slow,” I whispered. “Just breathe, Emily.”

I pushed forward with the barest of pressure, and even that—just the swollen head slipping into her untouched entrance—made her gasp.

“Nghhhh!”

Her whole body jolted. She arched her back sharply, hips trying to twist away from the sudden invasion, but I held her steady. My cock pulsed hard, wrapped already in heat, her inner muscles clutching around me like they didn’t know how to let go.

“It… it burns—ahh!” Emily cried out, tears already beginning to bead at the corners of her eyes.

“I know,” I murmured, gritting my teeth, fighting every instinct in me that screamed to thrust forward hard and fast. I stayed buried just partway, trembling with restraint, letting her stretch around me millimeter by aching millimeter. “Just a little more. You’re doing so good.”

Her cheeks were flushed scarlet, sweat blooming across her brow. I could see the panic in her expression fighting the pain, could see her grit her jaw against the pressure. I moved slowly, rolling my hips forward an inch deeper.

“Ahhhnnn—!”

Another sob broke loose.

Tears ran freely now down her cheeks, dripping onto the tabletop below. Her arms trembled, but still she held on, nails gouging lines into the wood. My cock slid deeper, her virgin pussy stretching so tightly around me that my vision darkened at the edges. The heat was insane—wet, pulsating, wrapped so snug it felt like I was being devoured inch by inch.

I could feel the resistance, the tight muscle clenching down hard, unaccustomed, unprepared.

“A—Almost there. Just a little more. You’re opening up,” I grunted trying my best to hold back my release. This was too hard.

It looked easy in movies but not at all.

Emily shook her head, sobbing quietly, but her hips didn’t pull away.

Then I felt it—her hymen, a taut barrier straining against my tip.

I paused.

My breath trembled as I gripped her hips tighter. “I’m gonna end it. One push.”

Emily whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

I pulled back, just a bit, then pushed forward—strongly.

Her whole body locked up.

“Aaaaahh—ngghhhhmnnn!!”

She cried out so loud it echoed off the room’s walls, her legs losing strength. The back of her head hit lightly the table, her hands fumbling, grasping blindly at the edges for support as my cock broke through.

I was in.

All the way.

Her cave clenched tight around the full length of me, spasming uncontrollably, torn, raw, blood-slick and trembling. I stayed still, panting, both of us frozen in the throes of it.

Emily’s virgin blood trickled slowly, dark and glistening, down the length of my cock. Some smeared across her inner thighs. Some splattered in bright drops onto the table and the floor below, tiny beads of red marking her first time.

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