The city, once a vibrant tapestry of lights and life, now lay shrouded in a silence more profound than any natural night. Only the distant, guttural moans of the undead occasionally pierced the stillness, a constant reminder of the world they had escaped, if only for a few precious hours. But within the opulent confines of the abandoned penthouse suite, high above the ravaged streets, a different kind of quiet settled – one of shared breath, of simmering anticipation, and the fragile hope of two souls finding solace in a crumbling world.

You watched Beatrix Amerhauser as she surveyed their temporary sanctuary. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously pulled back for combat, was now loose, a golden cascade shimmering in the soft, ambient glow of the cityscape's lingering power. Her blue eyes, which had been so sharp and analytical just moments ago as she cleared the final floor, now held a softer, more reflective quality. The reinforced door was bolted, the windows, though offering a breathtaking panoramic view, were thick, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, true safety seemed within reach. Beatrix Amerhauser, ever the pragmatist, had found this untouched haven, a testament to her keen survival instincts.

You knelt by the scavenged bags, pulling out a couple of lukewarm cans of soda and some slightly stale crackers. Not exactly a feast, but a luxury after days of adrenaline and near-starvation. You offered one to Bea, who took it with a small, grateful nod. The way her fingers brushed yours, even through the thin fabric of your gloves, sent a jolt of warmth through you. It was a simple gesture, yet in this new, brutal world, every touch, every shared moment, felt amplified, imbued with a desperate significance.

"It's... quiet," she finally said, her voice a low murmur, almost swallowed by the vastness of the penthouse. She walked to the expansive windows, her silhouette framed against the eerie twilight. "Too quiet, sometimes. Makes you think."

"About what?" you asked, joining her, standing a respectful distance but close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from her. You knew Beatrix Amerhauser carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, a burden she rarely shared, but in moments like these, the cracks in her formidable exterior became visible.

She turned, her blue eyes meeting yours, holding a depth of emotion you rarely saw. "About what we've lost. About what we're fighting for. About... what we still have." Her gaze lingered on you, and for a fleeting moment, the professional distance that usually separated you dissolved, replaced by something raw and undeniable. This was the core theme of Zom 100: Bucket List Of The Dead – to truly live, to seize every fleeting moment before the inevitable.

The air thickened, charged with unspoken feelings. The danger outside receded, replaced by a different kind of tension, one that was electrifying and deeply personal. You noticed the way her blonde hair caught the light, the subtle curve of her lips, the rise and fall of her chest, accentuated even through her tactical vest. Her formidable presence was still there, but now, a profound vulnerability shone through, making your heart ache with a desire to protect her, to cherish her.

“We’ve faced so much,” you began, reaching out, your hand hovering for a moment before gently cupping her cheek. Her skin was surprisingly soft beneath your touch. “And we’re still here. Together.”

Beatrix Amerhauser leaned into your palm, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, a sigh escaping her lips. It was a sound of profound relief, of letting go. “Together,” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. The scent of her—a faint mix of sweat, dust, and something uniquely her own, perhaps a lingering trace of vanilla from a long-forgotten perfume—filled your senses, intoxicating you.

Your thumb stroked her cheekbone, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. Her blue eyes reopened, gazing up at you with an intensity that stole your breath. The world outside, the zombies, the struggle, all faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of fragile intimacy. This was more than just survival; it was about truly living, something the concept of "Zombie Ni Naru Made Ni Shitai 100 No Koto" constantly reminded them of. To find beauty, to find connection, even amidst the horror.

You leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes half-closed, a silent invitation. Your lips met, tentatively at first, a soft press that tasted of salt and desperation and an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Then, with a gasp that was both yours and hers, the kiss deepened. Her lips parted, inviting you in, and your tongue found hers, exploring, tasting, a dance of growing urgency.

Her hands, which had been clenched at her sides, now rose, one finding the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the other splaying across your chest, her fingers clutching at your shirt. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her flush against you, feeling the undeniable softness of her body, the firm curve of her breasts pressing against your chest. Even through the layers of tactical gear, the sheer power of her presence, the undeniable femininity beneath, was electrifying.

The kiss grew more fervent, more demanding. Every brush of skin, every shared breath, every whispered moan resonated deeply. You felt the subtle shudder that ran through Beatrix Amerhauser’s body as your hands began to explore. Your fingers, still clumsy from the adrenaline, fumbled with the straps of her vest, desperate to shed the layers that separated you. She seemed to understand, pulling back just enough to allow you to help her shuck the heavy gear. The vest clattered to the floor, followed by the utility belt, leaving her in a simple, sweat-stained tank top and cargo pants.

Now, with less obstruction, you could truly appreciate the magnificent curve of her chest. Her Big Tits, barely contained by the thin fabric, rose and fell with her quickening breaths, a breathtaking sight that made your own heart pound. Her blonde hair, disheveled from the passionate kisses, fell in soft waves around her face, framing her flushed cheeks and desirous blue eyes.

You reached for the hem of her tank top, and she, with a silent understanding, lifted her arms, allowing you to pull it over her head. The moment the fabric cleared her head, revealing the full glory of her bare breasts, a soft gasp escaped both of your lips. They were magnificent, full and round, tipped with pert, roseate nipples that were already hardening in the cool air of the penthouse. You felt a primal urge to worship them, to bury your face between them, to feel their softness against your skin.

Your hands reached out, trembling slightly, to cup them. They were even softer, warmer, and heavier than you had imagined. Her gasp turned into a moan as your thumbs brushed her nipples, sending shivers through her body. Her head tilted back, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a silent plea. You leaned down, taking one of the exquisite peaks into your mouth, suckling gently, teasing it with your tongue. Beatrix Amerhauser arched into you, her fingers burying themselves in your hair, holding you close, a desperate sound of pleasure rumbling in her throat.

You alternated between her breasts, lavishing attention on each, feeling them swell and firm beneath your ministrations. Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, a beautiful counterpoint to the quiet desolation outside. She pressed herself against you, her hips instinctively grinding, a silent invitation that mirrored the frantic beating of your own heart. The cargo pants, once practical and sturdy, now felt like an unbearable barrier.

With a shared glance of urgent desire, you helped her unbutton and unzip them. They pooled around her ankles, and then she stepped out, revealing a simple pair of practical, albeit now very damp, cotton panties. Your eyes devoured the sight of her long, toned legs, the curve of her stomach, and the delicate lace of her underwear, barely concealing the soft mound beneath. You shed your own clothes with equal haste, tossing them aside, eager to be skin to skin with Beatrix Amerhauser, the woman who had captivated you.

Now, both of you stood naked, illuminated by the city lights filtering through the panoramic windows. There was no shame, only an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and trust. You pulled her close again, revelling in the sensation of her bare skin against yours. Her Big Tits pressed warmly against your chest, her nipples brushing provocatively. Her arms wrapped around your neck, her fingers caressing your hair, her breath hot against your ear.

"I... I want you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears, not of sadness, but of overwhelming feeling. "More than anything. Here. Now. Before... before anything else can happen." The unspoken fear of the zombie apocalypse, the ever-present threat, underscored her desperate plea to seize this moment, to fulfill a fundamental human desire for connection and intimacy, a true embodiment of the "Zombie Ni Naru Made Ni Shitai 100 No Koto" spirit.

You kissed her deeply again, a hungry, consuming kiss that left no doubt about your shared desire. Your hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of her spine, then dipping to cup the soft swell of her buttocks. Her hips instinctively tilted, pressing her mound against your hardening erection, a silent promise of what was to come. A low growl escaped your throat, and her response was a needy whimper.

You lifted her into your arms, easily, despite her strength, and carried her towards the master bedroom. It was a sanctuary of white linens and plush pillows, untouched by the apocalypse. You laid her gently on the vast, king-sized bed, the soft mattress yielding beneath her. She looked up at you, her blonde hair fanned out against the pillows, her blue eyes wide and inviting, her lips parted in a breathless smile.

You knelt between her legs, gently pushing them apart. Her panties, now a damp barrier, were easily peeled away, revealing the soft, blonde curls and the glistening, swollen folds of her vulva. A sweet, musky scent wafted up, driving you wild. You leaned down, eager to taste her, to feel the exquisite softness of her. Your tongue flickered out, tracing the swollen lips, and Beatrix Amerhauser gasped, her hips rising off the bed. You delved deeper, finding her clitoris, teasing it with gentle licks and suckles. Her fingers once again tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on.

Her moans filled the room, a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She bucked and writhed beneath you, her legs trembling, her body arching. "Oh, god... yes! Please! Don't stop!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse with desire. You continued your exquisite torture, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, savoring every shudder, every breathless cry.

Finally, with a loud, drawn-out moan, her body tensed, her back arched dramatically, and she pulsed against your mouth, her orgasm wracking her frame. You held her tight, tasting the sweet release, feeling the tremors subside, leaving her breathless and flushed. She lay panting, her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her face. "You... you're incredible," she whispered, opening her eyes to look at you, her blue gaze full of adoration.

But the night was far from over. Her body was still humming, still craving. You moved up, positioning yourself between her legs, your erection throbbing, aching to be buried deep inside her. Her hands reached out, cupping your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. As your lips met, you slowly, carefully, pushed forward, feeling the slick, hot entrance of her body envelop you. A shared gasp, then a moan of pure bliss.

The sensation was overwhelming: hot, tight, incredibly soft. Beatrix Amerhauser arched her back, lifting her hips to meet your thrust, taking you deeper. You paused, letting both of you acclimate, savoring the feeling of being completely, utterly sheathed within her. Her eyes were closed, a soft smile on her lips, her blonde hair a golden halo against the stark white of the pillow. Her Big Tits rose and fell with her fervent breathing, brushing against your chest with every movement.

You began to move, slowly at first, a gentle rhythm, feeling her muscles contract around you, pulling you deeper with every thrust. Her hands slid down your back, her nails lightly scratching your skin, urging you faster, harder. "Yes... oh, god, yes," she panted, her voice raw. "More. Please, more."

You obeyed, your rhythm quickening, becoming more insistent. The bed creaked softly in protest with each powerful stroke. You watched her face, the pure ecstasy etched there, the way her blue eyes rolled back in her head, the soft gasp that escaped her lips each time you hit that perfect spot. Her Big Tits bounced with every thrust, their roundness a mesmerizing sight, adding to the visual symphony of your passion.

You leaned down, burying your face in her neck, inhaling her scent, tasting the salt of her skin. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you even closer, making the connection between you feel impossibly deep. You felt her coming again, a series of short, sharp gasps, her body tightening around you, milking every inch of your shaft. "Aaah... ahh... ohh!" she cried out, her voice breaking, her entire body trembling as another wave of pleasure washed over her.

You felt yourself nearing the edge as well, the exquisite friction, the warmth of her body, the sounds of her pleasure driving you to the brink. You pulled back, just slightly, then plunged deep inside her one last time, holding yourself there, letting the pleasure build to an unbearable crescendo. Her eyes locked with yours, full of a desperate, primal need.

"I'm going to cum inside you, Bea," you whispered, your voice hoarse, wanting her full consent, her understanding of the deep intimacy of the act. You knew this was a world where consequences were secondary to living, to feeling, to connecting. The "Creampie" was not just an act, but a testament to life, to hope, to a future, however uncertain.

Her blue eyes widened, then softened with a fierce, primal acceptance. "Yes," she breathed, her voice filled with a profound trust. "Please. Inside me. All of you."

With her permission, her invitation echoing in your ears, you unleashed yourself. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you pushed deep, feeling the searing heat of your climax flood into her, filling her completely. She gasped, a deep, shuddering intake of breath, her body contracting powerfully around you as she felt your essence pour into her. The warmth, the fullness, the shared moment of profound release was indescribable.

You lay there for a long moment, spent, your body heavy, still buried deep within Beatrix Amerhauser. Her legs were still wrapped around you, her arms clutching your back, her head nestled against your shoulder. You could feel the slight contractions of her muscles around you, holding onto your warmth, your seed. A sense of deep satisfaction, of a bond forged in fire and now sealed in pleasure, settled over you both.

Eventually, you stirred, pulling out slowly, reluctantly, and she let out a soft whimper of protest. You rolled onto your side, pulling her close, spooning her against your body. Her back pressed against your chest, her blonde hair fanned across the pillow, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth of her bare skin against yours. Her Big Tits nestled comfortably, and you rested your hand on her stomach, feeling the subtle warmth of the life you had just poured into her.

“Are you… okay?” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She shifted, turning her head to look at you, her blue eyes soft and dreamy. A slow, contented smile spread across her lips. “More than okay,” Beatrix Amerhauser murmured, her voice laced with exhaustion and pure happiness. “I feel… alive. Truly alive. Thank you.” She reached up, tracing the line of your jaw, her touch light and tender. “For this. For everything.”

You held her tighter, pulling the luxurious duvet over your naked bodies. Outside, the city remained a tomb, haunted by the undead. But inside this penthouse, wrapped in each other’s arms, a small flicker of warmth, of love, of hope, burned brightly. This was their "Bucket List Of The Dead" moment – to find passion and connection, to embrace life with reckless abandon, even when faced with the end. The creampie was not just an act of pleasure, but an act of defiance, a promise of life, a deep, romantic connection that transcended the horrors of their world. Beatrix Amerhauser, the formidable survivor, had found something even more precious than safety: a soulmate in the apocalypse.