A long day in the wastelands
Life had become both easier and more difficult since the crash as far as Katja was concerned.
On one hand food could get a bit scarce and security had undeniably taken a turn for the worse, but on the other hand it was much easier to figure out if a day was successful or not.
Survived the day? Check.
Ended the day with more supplies than it started with? Hm-mh.
Yep, looked like a good day, Katja thought as she closed the door behind herself and went over to her workbench to get the heavy backpack off her shoulders. A heavy backpack was always great, and today she had found some truly great stuff.
Ammunition for her rifle she had had to leave home on the last three trips because it was worthless without cartridges. Now she had almost fourty of them, enough for weeks if she was careful and didn’t run amok for some reason.
A good bit of canned food, even two big plastic bottles of pre-war water that was getting increasingly rare. So rare that Katja had long switched to filtering rain water, which arguably tasted just as well but bottled water was a luxury she didn’t get to enjoy often.
Katja massaged her aching shoulder muscles for a bit and looked around the room to figure out if anything was different than when she had left in the morning. Paranoia had become her only true friend, keeping her alive and well in the years since she had involuntarily swapped her office job for a life as a scavenger.
She didn’t regret a second of that new life though, the freedom she took in with every breath was worth every single hardship she had endured in the past years, and if someone were to invite her to a useless meeting these days she could feed him a bullet like she had always wanted back when offices and meetings still existed.
Katja sighed, let out all the air from her lungs and closed her eyes to enjoy the silence around her. That was another luxury she deeply enjoyed, the amount of noise she had been exposed to was more than enough for two lifetimes and the more time she spent up here where the only sounds came from birds the more she craved it.
In fact there were few reasons other than resupplying that could make her go out, maybe heading to the market and bar three blocks away whenever she needed a little break from the solitude.
For now she was fully content though, having already eaten on the way back home Katja found herself with nothing pressing to do, fully on her own and left with her thoughts, the cigarette she flinged out of the pack and maybe one of the many books to read later.
Katja moved over to the window and rested her forearms on the sill, staring out into the chaos she had struggled her way through just minutes ago. She puffed on her cigarette, the red glow lighting up the windowframe and probably exposing her hideout if someone were to look up, but she didn’t care.
Darkness began to fall, and with it the late summer cold crept up, sending a shiver over Katja’s arms and leaving goosebumps in its wake. She knew it was about time she fixed the broken window with a few boards before the autumn rain storms started, maybe she would gather supplies for that tomorrow.
The butt of her cigarette tumbled downward and Katja went over to the old chair in the corner to fetch her old and beloved sweatshirt that had been with her for so long she didn’t even remember where she had bought it, only that it was one of few good memories from her former life.
It had become increasingly thin over the years so she only wore it in here anymore, hoping to extend its life a little more. There was little left, only the Zippo lighter that was always out of gas, the Leatherman she had inherited from her father and funnily enough her wallet with her driver’s licence and ID.
As if those were of any use these days, but she liked looking at a much younger version of her face. Not even a full decade had passed since she had turned eighteen, full of hopes and dreams that seemed impossible – until they didn’t.
She liked her body better now, though. Growing up she had always been slim, almost fragile and often found herself hindered by a lack of physical strength, but not anymore. Life in the urban jungle had turned her into a state dystopian fashion magazines would probably call ‘The muscular surivor’, years of lugging heavy gear and fighting for her life had shaped Katja’s belly and arms to the point where they felt like iron bars when she flexed them.
It had given her a sense of bodily awareness she had never had, making her agile and able to climb, jump and run better and longer than she had ever deemed possible.
And it had turned out she was enjoying it even more than before to touch her whole body, every inch a clear sign of the progress she had made and all excess fat trimmed away.
As she sat down on her bed – or rather a mattress on the floor because bringing a bed frame up here would be a bitch – Katja noticed the upcoming cold had only been momentary and already subsided to be replaced by the warmth of a summer evening, only beer and the smell of a barbecue smoker missing, but she could vividly imagine them when she closed her eyes.
And she could feel the contours of her body as if she was touching them, felt the slight curve of her belly before it led down to her pelvis, could feel the shivers on her skins as her fingers meandered over the inside of her legs before coming up on the outside and passing the rough edge of the jeans pockets.
Or maybe she was indeed touching them all, as she opened her eyes again Katja realized her right hand was gripping her buttcheeks while the left was trying to open the belt, failing at first and only succeeding with the help of her right.
With a sigh of relief Katja finally realized the long day in the wastelands was truly over, and then with a broad grin on her face she got up to undress herself, slowly at first but quickly unable to muster the patience for a little self-striptease and basically ripping the clothes from her body. She threw everything over the chair, from her sweatshirt over the plain black tshirt to her jeans and the boyshorts she found so comfortable to wear because fuck those oh-so-sexy women’s underwear that did nothing other than getting in the way.
Now fully naked Katja looked down on herself once again, then hurried back to the bed with her fingers already circulating around her pussy lips and the nipples that were seemingly harder than they had ever been.
She leaned back into the wall, the coarse material roughing her skin up as she inevitably shivered and twisted under the painful pleasures her fingers evoked. The blanket she had draped so orderly over the mattress was soon hanging over in all directions and getting tangled between her feet and the mattress got slowly pushed away from the wall as Katja fingered herself fast and hard enough to make her squeal.
Even after all those years the urge to stay silent had never really left Katja, and before she knew it she had instinctivly covered her mouth with her left hand, making her laugh as she realized there was no need for that anymore and went back to massaging her nipples.
Katja pushed two fingers into herself as deep as she could, then started twisting them inside as she circled her clit with her thumb, her surefire way to make herself cum in no time. It wasn’t any different this time, she could feel her body rebelling against what her fingers were doing to it, but she knew who would win this fight.
And sure enough with the mattress taking yet another slip away from the wall the sudden shift was enough to break what little control over herself Katja had still had, sending shivers of pleasure across her whole body and into every last fibre and nerve ending and making her spine bend before she collapsed against the wall, panting and twitching long after the orgasm had subsided.
With an exhausted smile on her face Katja wondered what strange mood of mother nature had made her invent orgasms, then snuggled herself into the blanket and before she could finish that thought she was already falling asleep, refilling her energy for another day in the wastelands.
(via A long day in the wastelands)
