Arapocolypse (Part VI)

I know what's going to happen, and to be brutally honest I don't know how I feel about it. From what I've heard the man is supposed to be on top, but I suppose I'm in no condition to be so. I know that I'm damned to suffer the same fate she has and that it's only a matter of time, but perhaps that isn't entirely a bad thing. She giggles and puts my legs together, slowly moving the broken one to avoid too much pain. The disease is supposed to increase one's sex drive almost exponentially, but even with that knowledge she's worryingly eager.

She spreads her vagina, now dripping wet to the point where it almost resembles urination, and places it over my penis; it has begun. I’m ashamed to admit it's my first time with a woman, but it's even better than I expected. She places a nipple into my mouth, and gives its breast a few firm squeezes. I never heard of the disease causing lactation, but it definitely has and did so heavily. Her milk is quite thin but is surprisingly flavorful, having what I would describe as a caramel taste to it. Each of her thrusts brings more into my mouth even without me suckling. She lets out deep, breathy moans, and any noise I may be making is muffled by her breasts and overshadowed by her own.

There's something I wasn't expecting about the feel of her vagina, not that I'm complaining, but it seems to have its own pull and a suspiciously precise tug and massage for the man inside it; as if there's   another hand of sorts inside it. She seems to be reaching an orgasm, with a hand grabbing her other breast and the other planted on the floor beside us. Her panting has become laboured and her thrusts have become slower and harder. With a loud grunt she finally climaxes and gushes, but continues to keep going until I cum; that isn't much later.

She rolls off of me and onto her back, and says with a sigh “this is something I can really get used to.” I grunt in agreement. Suddenly I remember my father, and how he must be worried. I tell Maddie and she lazily hands me a short, yet sufficiently sturdy branch to use as a crutch. With the ointment numbing my leg and my pants back on, I leave the cave. I realize it's now nightfall and rush back to our camp.

Father is tending to a now-roaring fire, and it takes him a moment to notice me after I sat down next to him.

“So, did you see her?”

“Uh, yeah, I think she ate something she wasn't suppo-”

Father let out a chortle and patted me on the back.

“You don't have to lie to me, boy, there's only one thing that can keep a man and a woman alone for that long, ha! I thought you hated her, but I guess she changed her mind, eh?”

He elbowed me and burst out laughing again. Father was always quite the womanizer according to my uncle, at least until he met my mother. I don't remember when she died, but he seemed very distant for a few years afterwards.  But within the last year or so he's apparently becoming his old self again.

“She certainly has, but I tripped on the way back and think I might have hurt my leg.”

He nods and notes that it could be a problem, but nothing a few twists and some gauze wouldn't fix. I asked him how we had gauze, and he said that he brought a large first-aid kit in case something like this happened. I didn't notice it before but there it was, a white plastic case adorned with a red cross, and about the size of a large toolbox. I note to myself that I should count my blessings.