When I got home, mom was out back wearing a yellow sundress, and hanging laundry to dry. It was almost a bucolic scene. It belied the horror that I had just visited on three men.
"Are you okay?" she asked after I got out of the truck and stood by the back door.
"Yeah I'm fine," I answered nonchalantly as she passed me with her laundry basket on her way into the house.
"What have you got there?" She said referring to the bag of supplies I had taken from the store.
"Groceries."
"Yeah, funny." She chuckled at my little joke, "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah," I said and I realized that I was.
"I'll make you some pancakes, but you'll have to settle for reheated coffee."
"Okay," I said as I threw the grocery bag on the table and sat down.
She busied herself in the kitchen and I watched her sashay around in that sundress. She gave me a cup of coffee and was waiting for the cast-iron pan to heat up, when she started to rustle through the bag.
"What's this?" She asked holding up the velvet ribbon.
"I don't know. I just started grabbing things."
"And this?" she held up the K-Y. I just sat there looking guilty.
"You don't give up."
"I don't know what you mean." I tried to smile my way out of it.
"I know what this is for," she said annoyed. "You're not fucking me in the ass again Eddie." She held the ribbon up in one hand and the K-Y in the other. "I guess you weren't even going to ask my permission, were you?"
"Mom, I don't know. I just grabbed things."
"I don't believe you. Being tied up and fucked in the ass might seem like fun to you, but not to me." She was really getting pissed, but then she stopped. "Is that blood on your hand?"
"A little yeah."
"You're bleeding?" Her mood went from anger to concern.
"Not anymore."
"What happened?"
"One of them snuck up on me and hit me while I wasn't looking."
"Hit you where?" She came around the table to see.
"On the side."
"On the side where?"
"I'm okay Mom." I tried to pull away from her fussing.
"Oh my God Ed. You are bleeding from the head."
"I'm okay Mom." I repeated.
"No you're not. You're bleeding from the head. Here I am yelling at you, and you almost got killed for me. What did he hit you with?"
"A bat."
"A bat! Oh my God. Let me clean it."
She ran for a clean cloth and dampened it from the water jug we had by the sink. She came back and stuck her tits in my face as she cleaned the wound. I sat there reveling in her bosom, and I realized that she wasn't wearing a bra, because I could feel her nipples through the dress.
I started to smell something and then I realized that she left the pan on the stove.
"Mom, I think that you're burning down the house."
"Oh shit, the stove," she said and ran and took the pan off the burner. She then turned around and just looked at me. "You weren't going to tell me you got hurt."
"You didn't ask."
She walked over to the table and sat on the edge. "Come here," she commanded. I got up and stood between her legs. I automatically put my hands on her thighs and hiked up her dress.
"Did you get them all?" she asked as she slid her hands inside of my t-shirt.
"Yes." My dick was getting hard as she withdrew her hands, put them behind her neck, untied the halter top of her dress and let it drop; exposing her girls to me. She then picked up the spool of velvet ribbon off the table, and handed it to me.
"I've never been tied up before. How do you do it?"
"Forget it Mom," I said dismissively.
She looked up at me demurely, and said in her sexiest voice. "Do it Ed. Tie me up."
I hesitated at first, but then I stripped the ribbon off the spool. "Hold out your hands." She did as I commanded, and I tied a knot around one of her wrists. I then wrapped the ribbon in a figure eight around both of her wrists a few times, and then tied it off again. The knot around her wrists was firm, but it wasn't hurting her. I pulled the ribbon over her head, and as she lay down on the table, I walked around it and tied the ribbon to a table leg on the other end.
She was completely splayed out as I came back between her legs. Her breasts were heaving as she started to breathe heavy. I ran my hands back up her thighs, pushing her dress up as I went. When I got to her panties, I flipped her dress up and over. It only took a few seconds to reach in, grab her panties and strip them off; leaving her helpless and exposed.
My eyes went from her pussy lips to her nipples, as they rose and fell with her hard breathing, to her beautiful face, red lips, and then finally to the knot that was binding her wrists.
"You like this?" She said with her hands pulled tight above her head. Her breaths were deep and labored.
"Yes."
"You like that I'm so vulnerable?"
"Yes," I said as I unbuttoned my shorts and dropped them and my boxers to the floor. She let out a gasp, as I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer to the end of the table. It pulled her arms even tighter, and she was ripe for the taking.
Life fell into a pattern. Get up, work on the garden, and haul water; whatever needed to be done. Mom was right about the "heirloom" vegetables. They were not as pretty, but they were sturdier, more resistant to pests and weeds.
I was able to save at least half of grandma's garden, and who knows how long those plants were neglected. I had to admit that I liked working with my hands. Farming was a hell of a lot more satisfying than negotiating some business deal.
Mom found a couple of rabbit nests in the meadow and, before long; we had a pen full of them. I never ate rabbit before, and it was weird at first, but who could complain about free meat? Besides, you didn't have to kill a whole deer and have it go rancid before you had a chance to eat it all. Lack of refrigeration was definitely a hindrance.
I had a system for hauling water from the pond. I found an old trailer in someone's garage and I loaded it with anything big that could hold water. I would go down to the pond in the early afternoon, because you don't mind working in the heat of the day when you are waist deep in cool water.
It still had to be purified first to make it potable. So at night we filtered and then boiled water, until we went to bed. Mom kept complaining that there had to be a way to run the house's well, but I wasn't an electrician, so I was clueless.
On rainy days I would forage through all of the abandoned houses in the area, not only for food, but also for tools and anything else that we could possibly use. On those trips I would keep an eye out for any zombies, but I didn't find any signs.
We were making love at least once a day. Whenever we felt like it, and mom always felt like it. I tried to be as loving and gentle as possible, and mom would let me satisfy my darker appetites once in a while.
It was a bucolic life, and I was actually happy. We even started to barter vegetables to John and Henry for fish. So we now had two sources of protein, but I was still looking for that T-bone.
Late one morning, after the last zombie incident, I was working in the garden and I spotted a motorcycle racing along the road. I squatted down behind some vegetation to hide, but the motorcycle slowed down and turned into our driveway.
The rider halted the bike after he got about a hundred feet up the drive and got off. I couldn't see the make, but it looked like an American made bike. He took off his jacket and placed it on the bike. He also took something off his hip, which I assumed to be a pistol, and placed it inside of his jacket.
He then started the long walk up the driveway. I heard Al Shaba barking as she came back from wherever she was off to.
I stood up, found the mini, which was slung over a fence post, made my way out of the garden and out to the front of the house. That's where we, Al Shaba and I, met him.