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A long day in the wastelands (fm:masturbation, 1500 words)

Author: postappantsdown
Added: Apr 16 2018Views / Reads: 351 / 235 [67%]Story vote: 9.33 (6 votes)
After a long day in the wastelands Katja comes home into her hideout, tired but not too tired for a relaxed masturbation session.

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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

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