Zombie Lust: Green Hunger Unleashed 💋
In the shadowed guts of Seaview’s derelict cannery, where rusted hooks dangled like forgotten promises, Marcus gripped his fire axe tighter. The air reeked of brine and rot, salt crusting his stubble as waves crashed against the pier outside. Months since the Green Rot hit, turning folks into sun-craving freaks with skin like moldy lime. He wasn’t some medic pussyfooting around; ex-firefighter muscle kept him swinging.
Night’s edge bit hard. Greenies slacked off pre-dawn, their gooey veins sluggish without sunlight juice. Marcus kicked through fish guts on the concrete floor, hunting canned tuna, batteries—anything to stretch his hoard in the loft above.
A scrape echoed. Not the usual zombie shuffle. Human. Heart pounding, he crept toward towering vats, axe raised. There—in a cage of pipes—crouched a woman. Red hair wild, curves packed into ripped jeans and a tank top clinging like second skin. She swung a crowbar at a lone Greenie gnawing the bars, its green dick flopping uselessly.
“Fuck off, you slimy cock!” she snarled, slamming the bar into its skull. Green syrup sprayed, sizzling on metal.
Marcus charged. One chop, head rolled. She spun, eyes fierce—emerald, alive. “Who the hell—?”
“Name’s Marcus. You?” He wiped goo off his axe, breath ragged.
“Lena. Been holed up in the boiler room. Thought I was solo till these bastards sniffed me out.”
Her tits heaved, sweat glistening. No bite marks. Clean. First pussy in forever. Cock twitched despite the apocalypse stench.
Chapter 1: Boiler Room Fever |
Chapter 2: Loft Pounding |
Jump to Chapter 3 |
Chapter 4 |
Chapter 5 |
Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Boiler Room Fever 🔥
Steam hissed from cracked pipes as Marcus yanked Lena from the shadows. Her body pressed close—soft tits against his chest, ass firm under denim. Greenie blood smeared her thigh, but skin stayed pink. Lucky bitch.
“Up the catwalk,” he growled, boosting her onto rusted stairs. Her jeans hugged that round ass, cameltoe teasing through tight fabric. Docks groaned below, waves slapping pilings like wet slaps.
Halfway up, she slipped. He caught her waist, hands sliding to hips. “Steady, slut.” Voice rough, dick hardening against her.
She glanced back, lips parted. “Call me that again, see what happens.”
Challenge lit her eyes. In the loft—barricaded with crates, mattress scavenged from a yacht wreck—they collapsed. Air thick with fish oil and her musk. Lena peeled off her tank, freckled boobs spilling free. Nipples hard as bullets.
“Been alone too,” she whispered, fingers tracing his bulge. “Need this.”
Marcus ripped her jeans down. Pussy shaved bare, lips puffy, dripping. He shoved her onto the mattress, face diving in. Tasted salty-sweet, clit throbbing under his tongue. She bucked, nails raking his scalp.
“Eat that cunt, Marcus! Deeper!”
He lapped like a starving dog, fingers plunging her hole. Walls clenched, gushing juice down his chin. Outside, Greenies stirred faintly—low moans like hungry ghosts. Ignored ’em. Her thighs quivered, then she squirted, flooding his mouth.
“Fuck yes!” Scream echoed. He stripped, cock springing—thick, veined, nine inches aching. She grabbed it, stroking rough. “Ram it in.”
No mercy. He flipped her doggy, slammed balls-deep. Pussy gripped like a vise, milking him. Slaps echoed louder than waves. Ass cheeks rippled with each thrust.
“Harder, you brute! Pound this apocalypse whore!”
Greenies below thrashed pipes, drawn by noise. Fuck ’em. He choked her neck, pulling hair, railing till sweat poured. She came again, spasming, ass clenching.
“Gonna fill you!” Grunt escaped. Cum erupted, painting her depths white. Pulled out, last ropes on her back. She collapsed, grinning. “Welcome to the team.”
But dawn crept. Greenies howled. Time to fortify.
Scavenger’s Rush
They dressed quick. Marcus handed her a hatchet. “Stick close. Pre-dawn, they’re slow, but don’t get cocky.”
Cannery alleys twisted like veins. Salt wind whipped, carrying fish rot and greenie stink—sweet, fungal. Lena’s hand brushed his crotch. “Round two later?”
“If we live.” Spotted cans in a crate. Grabbed ’em. A Greenie lurched from shadows—naked female, tits sagging green, cunt lips weirdly swollen. She lunged, hands clawing.
Lena swung. Hatchet split her jaw. Goo bubbled. Marcus finished with axe to neck. Headless body twitched, pussy pulsing like it craved cock even dead.
“Freaky shit,” Lena muttered, eyes wide. “Made me wet again.”
Back to loft. Barricades up. They boiled water on propane stove, ate beans. Her foot teased his thigh under table. Tension built like storm clouds.
Chapter 2: Loft Pounding 💋
Sun rose, Greenies photosynthesizing in streets—standing stiff, skin glowing faint chartreuse. From loft window, Marcus watched. Lena stripped again, naked form glowing in light.
“They fuck sometimes,” he said, pointing. A male Greenie humped a female’s thigh, hips jerking dumbly. Her fingers twitched, grabbing air like phantom orgasms.
Lena laughed dark. “Poor bastards. We do better.” She dropped to knees, yanking his pants. Cock flopped out, half-hard. Mouth engulfed it—hot, sloppy. Gagged deep, throat bulging.
“Suck that meat, Lena. Choke on it.” Hands fisted red hair, fucking face. Saliva drooled, tits bouncing. She hummed, vibrations shooting pleasure bolts.
Pulled out, strings of spit connecting. “Bend over the sill. Let ’em hear.”
She did, ass out window. Pussy winked, juices trickling. He mounted, spearing deep. View of Greenies below—dozens sunbathing nude. One looked up, mouth gaping.
“Fuck me while they watch!” Lena moaned loud. Thrusts brutal, hips slamming. Balls slapped clit. She fingered her ass, dipping in.
“Dirty girl. Want double?” Spat on fingers, joined hers. Stretched that tight pucker while pounding pussy. She shattered, squirting arc over sill.
Greenies stirred, heads turning. Noise pulling ’em. Marcus didn’t care. Flipped her, legs over shoulders, drilled missionary. Boobs jiggled hypnotic.
“Breed me, survivor stud! Pump that load!” Climax hit—cum blasting, overflowing. She milked every drop, kissing feral.
Greenies climbed pilings now. “Shit. Reinforcements.”
Balcony Brawl
Loft balcony overlooked pier—rickety chairs, rusted grill. They barricaded inside, breaths heaving post-fuck glow. Lena wiped cum from thigh. “Worth the risk.”
Hammered boards tighter. Greenies scaled walls, goo trailing. One smashed glass—naked brute, cock rigid green. Marcus axed its arm off. It kept coming, stump oozing.
Lena stabbed eyes. “Die, fucker!” He lopped head. Body humped air convulsing.
Aftermath: Adrenaline surged. She pushed him against crates. “Fuck me now. Raw.”
Quickie—her riding reverse, ass grinding. Cum quick, deep. Cleaned with tongues. “Partners,” he said. She nodded, fierce.
Chapter 3: Dockside Raid 🔥
Night fell. Greenies powered down, floppy like wilted plants. Marcus and Lena hit the streets—her on a scavenged scooter, him pushing E-bike loaded for haul. Target: Old train depot two miles off, rumored stocked.
Seaview’s rails rusted, cars derailed. Moon silvered waves. Air hummed crickets—bugs spared by greenie hunger. They chained bikes, crept in.
Depot massive, platforms littered bones. Greenie nests—bodies piled, feasting scars. Lena shivered. “Smells like cum and death.”
They rummaged boxcars. Canned goods jackpot. Then—sex shop car? Apocalypse gift. Dildos, vibes, cuffs spilled. Lena snatched a monster black dildo, thick as wrist.
“This for later.” Grinned wicked.
A noise. Pack of Greenies—three females, hips swaying odd. Cunts gaping, leaking green slick. Males absent. They circled, hands groping air horny-like.
“Horny horde,” Marcus whispered. One lunged Lena. She dodged, hatchet flashing. Green tit lopped. Goo sprayed, infecting? No—Lena wiped, fine.
Marcus cleaved another’s head. Last fled, but Lena tackled, pinning. “Wait. She’s… different.”
The Greenie writhed, pussy pulsing visible orgasms. Fingers clawed Lena’s thigh—not biting, rubbing.
“Freak seeks pussy?” Lena laughed maniacal. Pinned it, shoved dildo in its mouth. Greenie sucked eager, goo lubing toy.
“Taboo as fuck.” Marcus hard watching. They axed it quick after. But heat built.
Train Car Tryst
Boxcar shadows. Lena bent over crates, jeans mooning. “Use the toy first.”
He lubed monster dildo with spit, eased into ass. She howled, pushing back. “Stretch me, baby!” Pussy free, he fisted it—knuckles deep, arm pumping.
“Fist-fuck that sloppy hole!” Senses overwhelmed: Her screams, metal creaks, pussy squelch, musk heavy, tastes of salt sweat licking neck.
Dildo wrecked ass, gaping rosebud. Switched—cock in ass, dildo pussy. Double stuffed. She babbled filth: “Ruin my holes, apocalypse king!”
Orgasms chained. He unloaded in bowels, pulling to watch cream pie bubble. They packed toys, hauled loot back. Dawn chased ’em, Greenies rousing with moans.
Chapter 4: Infected Cravings 💋
Back at cannery, stockpile grew. Solar panels charged toys. Lena experimented nights—vibes buzzing pussy while Marcus throat-fucked.
One dawn, she woke feverish. Skin tinged faint green? Panic hit. “Bite?” No. Bite mark absent. But pussy ached constant, dripping unnatural.
“Infected splash got me horny,” she admitted. “Can’t stop touching.”
Marcus tested: Fingered her. Walls milked fingers greedy. “Partial? Pleasure amp?”
She mounted wild, grinding savage. “Use me! Fuck the infection out!” Ride brutal—nails bloodying back, teeth sinking shoulder not breaking skin.
Ass next—cuffs locked wrists, paddled red. “Whip this green slut!” Belt cracks echoed. Then pile-drove anal, balls slapping.
“Deeper! Split me!” Cum flooded, but she kept cumming—multiples endless, body convulsing like Greenie orgasm mimic.
Weeks blurred. Her skin normalized, but lust permanent. “Gift,” she purred. New routine: Fuckfights with Greenies peeking.
Sex Shop Arsenal
Raided more. Strap-ons, plugs. Lena pegged him once—prostate milked dry, ropes shooting untouched. “My turn to own.”
Balcony orgy mock: Fucked over railing, Greenies below masturbating dumbly to sounds. One climbed; they 69’d atop it, axing mid-climax.
Chapter 5: Pier Siege 🔥
Storm brewed. Waves thrashed. Greenies swarmed pier—hundreds, sacrificing to block escape? Like that old truck tale Marcus heard radio whispers of.
“Horde intelligence up,” he said. Lena nodded, strap-on buckling. “Fight-fuck through.”
They descended elevator—oiled silent. Pier battle: Axes swung, green limbs flying. Lena’s tits bounced bloody, pussy leaking fight adrenaline.
Mid-fray, she dropped trousers. “Fuck here! On the bodies!” Piled gooey corpses slick ramp. He railed missionary amid twitching parts.
“Sloppy seconds with zombies!” Crude laugh. Thrusts churned green lube. Greenies encircled, humping each other frenzied.
Climaxed together—her squirting mixing goo, his seed painting tits. Grabbed bikes, fled to beach caves.
Cave Climax
Caves dripped, echoey. Fire crackled fish. Naked, they rutted primal. 69 first—tongues devouring, asses rimmed salty.
Doggy chain: Ass to mouth, toys swapping holes. “All your filth!” Degraded bliss.
Dawn broke outside. Greenies retreated sunward. Safe—for now.
Chapter 6: Eternal Green Lust
Weeks in caves. Scavenged boats yielded rum, condoms (unused), porn mags fuel. Lena’s body adapted—skin flawless, orgasms seismic.
One night, radio crackled static—voice? “Survivors… cure research… Seaview pickup.”
Hope flickered. But first, farewell fuck. Suspended from cave ropes—her swinging, impaled reverse cowgirl. Spun like spit-roast.
“Cum in me forever!” Final load, deep womb-shot.
Biked dawn-quiet streets. Greenies slumbered. Future? Rescue, cure. Till then, their bond—forged in gore, cum, screams—unbreakable.
Seaview faded behind. Waves whispered secrets. In zombie hell, they’d carved paradise. Raw. Real. Relentless. 💋
