Take everything and follow him into the back

You've never whored yourself out in your entire life, but this goes beyond turning a trick for money. This is survival, for you and for the people depending on you. You also have to appreciate that Bill isn't forcing you. You're unarmed, although not unprepared, so as far as he knows he could just take what he wants from you.

"Alright," you say, looking at the gear you have piled up in the middle of the room. "This and the biggest American flag you've got. I'm yours."

Bill's smile is not unkind. He reaches up and drags down one of the big American flags hanging from the ceiling. He drapes it over the pile of gear and then sets your pistol and gun belt on top.

"Through there," he points to a door at the back of the store.

You walk ahead of him, your heart pounding in your chest. The gravity of having sex with this complete stranger suddenly surreal. You step through the door into a small apartment area. A kitchen overflowing with empty tinned cans. An old couch that looks slept on.

Through a window you can see into a small enclosed courtyard area. There are three freshly dug graves and three carved wooden crosses.

"Back there," he gestures to an open doorway.

You walk past the couch and enter a windowless bedroom. Just a mattress on a bed frame and a night stand with a camping lantern. He closes the door and leans his shotgun up against the wall.

"I wish I could clean up," he says. "Haven't had a hot shower in days."

You can smell his stale sweat as he steps closer. There is a faint perfumed aroma. Baby wipes or something like them.

"What do you want first?" You ask.

"Whatever you feel like," he gestures. "I don't want you to hate this."

"Can I ask you a question first?" You ask and he nods. "What were those graves in the courtyard?"

Sadness sweeps over Old Bill's face.

"My kids," he says. "The plague."

Emotion threatens to overcome him, but he somehow bottles it up. His expression becomes distant and fixed.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," you say. "I did-"

He holds up a hand.

"It's okay, no harm done. Let's just, you know...," he sits on the bed and looks up at you.

"I understand," you say turning to him.

You smile and rest your hand on his cheek.

"Would you like to see me?" You ask.

He nods and you undress, slowly. Shrugging out of your army jacket and pulling your tanktop over your head. Your large breasts seem smaller in your sports bra. You move your hips, dancing to music in your head. You turn around and unbutton your cargo pants. You bend at the waist as you slide them over your ass to reveal your pink cotton panties.

You kick off your boots and step out of the pants, then turn and begin to lift the sports bra. Old Bill watches intently. Your soft breasts spill out as you drag the bra up and over your head. Your pink-brown nipples are hard. You reach up and tease them with your fingers and smile at Bill. He smiles back.

You lean your knee against his crotch and press your tits into his face. You run fingers through gray hair and pull him against your soft flesh. He reaches behind you and pulls you against him. He opens his mouth and kisses your breasts and licks and sucks your nipples. You moan and press your knee against the hard cock you feel in his jeans.

He sucks your nipples hard, pulling the sensitive flesh between his teeth and teasing them with his tongue. Finally, you can stand no more, and pull away with an exaggerated cry of pain. He's grinning now, the emotion earlier forgotten thanks to your playful behavior and naked body.

You turn your back on him, bending at the waist again so he can see your ass clearly as you slide the panties over your firm cheeks. No nasty smells from you. The water in the mall is plenty to run a bath every other day and you've got your pick of deodorants and perfumes.

"God you're beautiful," he says as your panties slide down your thighs and you expose the pouting lips of your pussy.

You're well-trimmed. Even after the end of the world old grooming habits die hard. You'll let your bush grow out when the world runs out of razorblades.

You step out of your panties and scoop them up as you turn around. You throw them at his face with a laugh and then step closer again.

You lean with your breasts only inches from his face and you look down. He looks up, hugging you to him and smiling. His hands are rough with calluses, but his hold on your hips is surprisingly gentle.

"What's your name?" Bill asks.

"Alex," you reply.

"Thank you," he says.

Bill kisses from your flat stomach up to the undersides of your breasts. His lips and tongue are warm against your flesh.

"So," you say, tousling his hair, "you never did tell me what you wanted first."