Goldilocks by VioletRayLesbian

The house is empty but not dusty. Something tells you not to mess with it, but you’re exhausted and starving, and it doesn’t make sense not to rest in the only shelter for miles away. You move the furniture in front of the doors and take your holey tennis shoes off. You brush your hair with your mom’s hairbrush, the only thing you have to remember her by. When you’re done, you stick the brush back in your bag and curl up in the bed upstairs, feeling just like Goldilocks in your mom’s stories.As much as you hated your mom last week, you miss her like hell now. You fall asleep thinking about the way she used to snore into your ear.

Someone shakes you awake. You scream and jump up, tripping over the blankets and landing hard on the old carpet. Strong paws help you up. You push them away and back into the corner to survey the situation.

Two men are standing near the bed, rifles in hand. They’re wearing good boots and coats, and you bite your lip in envy. One is barely older than you are, maybe in his early twenties, but the one who picked you up is quite a lot older. He’s tall and thin with graying hair, but you get the impression he could hold his own against infected just as easily as the young guy.

“Easy, now,” the older guy says. “We’re not gonna hurt you. I’m David, and this is my friend, James. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Marianne,” you say, without thinking about it. As soon as you say it, you wonder if it was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have told them. Maybe you should’ve given them a fake name. Ah well– it’s too late now.

“Marianne,” David repeats. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your face gets feverishly hot. Maybe it’s because your dad died when you were so little, but the opinions of older men have always meant a lot to you.

“Thanks,” you say.

“How old are you, Marianne?” David asks. “Are your parents around?”

“I’m seventeen,” you say. “And my parents are both dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” David says. “But you’re in good company. My parents are long dead, as are James’.”

“It sucks,” you say. “Sorry for breaking into your house. I didn’t know it belonged to anyone.”

“No problem.” David sets his rifle on top of the wardrobe. “It’s pretty much ‘finders keepers’ these days, isn’t it?”

You nod. James keeps his gun in hand.

“I got no problem with you sleeping here as long as you want,” David says. “You can even come stay at our town for a little while, if you want some company. We got a whole community of folks who help each other.”

“That sounds great!” you say.

David moves a little closer to you. “Only thing is, I need you to take off your clothes so I can make sure you don’t have any bites or scratches. Can you do that for me, Marianne?”

Your face gets hot again, but you nod. It’s a reasonable request. “Um, can the other guy go out while you check me?”

“Afraid not,” David says. “I need him here in case you’re infected and you try to bite me. I don’t think you are, but you can’t be too careful these days, right?”

“I guess so.” You unbutton your plaid flannel shirt and lay it on the bed. Next comes your undershirt, then your bra, and then you start on your jeans.

As you peel off your socks and then your fraying underwear, David comes up behind you. His cold brass coat buttons on your back make you shiver. He lifts your hair up, running his rough fingers over your smooth skin. Your hair goes over your shoulder, and then his fingers are gliding down your back.

“Put your arms straight out to the side,” he orders.

You obey him, looking straight at the floor so you don’t have to see the younger guy ogling you.

“That’s a good girl,” David says as his fingers run along the underside of your arms. He cups the sides of your breasts, groping and squeezing them. His hands shimmy down your sides. “Okay, you can put them down. Now bend over like you’re touching your toes.”

You lean forward, your hair falling in front of your face like a curtain. David crouches down and rubs his hands over your bottom, paying especially close attention to the skin there. He spreads your cheeks apart, and you gasp as the cool draft hits your skin.

“Almost done with this side,” David says smoothly. He runs his hands up and down the backs of your legs, and then he feels up the insides of your thighs. “Good job, Marianne. I’m going to check the front now.”

He starts with your face, peering into your ears and mouth. His fingers pull your lower lip down. When he’s satisfied with your head, he continues sweeping his hands all over you. He rubs your breasts for a little longer than you think is necessary, but his touch is making you feel warm and tingly and a little lightheaded, so you don’t complain.

“Spread your legs wide apart,” he commands. When you do so, he rubs his way up to your little patch of black curls.

You curl your toes into the carpet, hoping he doesn’t slide his fingers into your wetness. He does. But then again, it would be hard for him to miss it, since you’re wetter than a mermaid.

David massages you through the curls, and you accidentally toss your head back and give a little moan. David smirks and slides his middle finger inside you.

“Gotta be thorough,” he says, massaging you from the inside.

“Oh God,” you gasp, grabbing onto his arms for balance.

He keeps that up for a while, until you’re seriously contemplating reaching down and helping him examine you. Then, suddenly, he stands up and declares you bite-free.

“Um…” You press your legs together and scratch your neck. “Can I get dressed, then? It’s cold.”

“Sure.”

As you button your shirt back up, you finally feel brave enough to look into David’s face. “Do you have any food, by chance?”

James scowls, but David reaches out and squeezes your shoulder.

“Sure we do,” David says. “You hungry?”

Your stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear.

“I guess that answers that.” He laughs. “Now, you seem like a smart kid, so I bet you know all about how things work out here.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, especially since you just left the Quarantine Zone for the first time two weeks ago, but you nod sagely.

“I got something you want, and you got something I want,” David continues. “Maybe we can trade, and both of us can be happy. Sound good?”

You try to think about what’s in your backpack you could trade. “I don’t have any food or bullets, but I have some extra clothes,” you say.

David chuckles. “I’m not gonna take your clothes, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take any of your things. I just need you to do me a quick favor. It won’t cost you a thing.”

His offer sounds too good to be true, so as naive as you are, you’re still skeptical. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” David says. He strokes his fingers down your cheek and then puts two fingers on your lips. His hands smell like dirt and smoke. “You think you can do a little something for me?”

“Is it dangerous?” you ask. “Will it hurt?”

“No and no,” David says. “All I want you to do is get down on your knees–” He pushes down on your shoulder until you comply, “–and kiss me for a few minutes. You do that, you can have all the supper you want. Sound like a fair trade?”

You’re so hungry you feel dizzy and weak, but you force a smile up at him. “Sure, sounds good,” you say. “Just show me what to do.”

“I’m gonna check on the soup,” James says.

When he’s gone, David unzips his jeans and pulls his dick out. You’ve never seen one in real life, except on the babies you’ve looked after. It’s a lot bigger than you expected, all veiny and standing straight up.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pulls your face closer to it. “Just give it a little lick,” he says. “I just showered a little bit ago. It won’t be gross, I promise.”

You press your shaking hands on his upper thighs to steady yourself. “I’ve never done this before,” you laugh nervously.

“That’s all right,” he says, running his hand down your hair like your mom used to. “I’ll show you how.” He rubs the tip of his cock over your lips, leaving a little trail of slime under your nose. “Just be a good girl and stick your tongue out.”

You lick the part that doesn’t have any wisps of hair, and his dick twitches in response. You like the way that makes you feel, knowing you have that effect on him. You drag your tongue up the side of his erection, staring intently up at his face.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he says. “That’s great. Can you put it in your mouth?”

You open your mouth and clumsily engulf him, closing your lips around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair and starts moving your head back and forth.

“Watch those teeth,” he warns.

You open your mouth a little wider to oblige him. For a few minutes, you just kneel there while he gently fucks your mouth. You wonder whether your mom is yelling at you or cheering you on from the other side. You’re too hungry to care too much either way.

“You’ve got such pretty eyes,” David murmurs, using his thumb to wipe away the tear in the corner of your eye. “You don’t need to cry, Marianne. We’re gonna take good care of you, pretty little girl. Just focus on what you’re doing. You’re earning a nice big bowl of stew. Think about how nice and warm it’s gonna feel in your belly. You’re almost done here.”

His little pep talk gives you the energy to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his dick and start sucking him and moving your head all by yourself. He keeps petting your hair and saying nice things to you, but his words get breathier and terser.

All of a sudden, he grabs your head with both hands and pulls you so close that your forehead presses against his stomach. He pulses inside your mouth, spurting his salty, bitter load all over your tongue. It reminds you a little of snot, but you’re not sure it would be polite to spit it out.