"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. Bekah had found pieces of armour 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 I was a little girl, and they seemed a lot bigger to me then." 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 armour, 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 had the previous owner and a few zombies to deal with, but as a reward, Rebekka took his green leather racing suit and somehow managed to squeeze her voluptuous body inside. She wasn't able to close the zipper, though, so her wide breasts were now barely covered by the leather overall, which opened all the way down to her crotch and further, as it tore apart right between her legs. Which was just the way she wanted it, I imagined.
I turned halfway towards her and answered: "Yeah, well, my..." I paused. The memories of myself, driving his bike, learning the curves, were just too strong. "I've done it before," I finished the sentence, turning back towards the road.
We passed long rows of cars, and more than once had to dodge zombies or squeeze past a road block. It would be only a matter of time until we'd run into a situation where we'd be trapped and surrounded, and so wherever possible I tried to take a parallel road that was less travelled, or even cross a field or vineyard at the side of the road. It made for bumpy driving, but felt safer. Our bags and the spears and shields were all strapped to the sides of the bike, banging loudly whenever I hit a bump in the road. The sound must attract the attention of zombies for miles around, and I could only hope we'd be faster than them.
After a while, I felt Rebekka's hands caress my breasts. She was no longer clinging on to me, but seemed to begin enjoying the ride, the wind on her skin and the vibrations of the engine between her legs. It certainly left a nice impression on me, and so when she began to run her fingers down my stomach and between my legs, I just spread them a little further and drove slower to enjoy the sensation.
She began rubbing me, slipping two fingers into my moist and always hungry cunt, crooking them inside as if she wanted to hook into my fuckhole to keep from falling off. While she was fingering me, she began to lick and nibble my earlobe, sending shivers all over my body, down from my neck to my ever-wettening crotch.
Finally, I couldn't stand it any more. I took an exit and let the bike roll down a small dirt road leading into a vineyard, then stopped and turned it off. "God, you need to fuck me now," I moaned, bending forward across the handle and pushing my butt up towards her.
Rebekka knew just what to do. She ran her fingers across my fat, white buttocks and spread them apart, then leaned back on the seat of the bike and arched her hips up. The green leather tore and spread all around her hairy black muff, and she shot a steaming stream of piss straight out of it onto my ass.
I gasped at the sensation and immediately got raunchy. My dirty little piss whore of a slave spread my butt cheeks even wider and managed to get my horny asshole to gape, aiming her piss at it until I felt it run into my bowels, filling them up with warm, wet liquid.
I groaned some more and when the pressure from her bladder ceased, I wished the feeling could go on forever. Instead, she pushed three fingers into my dripping asshole, sealing it off with her piss inside and starting to fuck it hard from behind. I felt her thrust them in and out, fucking me raw and uninhibited right there out in the open.
