No signs of life 5 – Still no signs?
After an apocalypse, a teenager gets to fuck the boy of his dreams, but it comes at a massive price.
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No signs of life 5 – Still no signs?
When I awoke sunlight was streaming through the windows and birds were singing. It was like a scene out of that old Disney cartoon. All I needed was a bluebird to land whistling on my finger and it would have been complete.
My leg was draped over Ellis holding him close, but the jauntiness of the morning did nothing to change my mood. I felt wretched. More than wretched. For the first time in my life I experienced self loathing. Growing up in a small, very Christian community, with religious parents and mostly homophobic friends had not managed to dent my belief in my own right to exist, nor in the morality and normality of being gay. Even sucking Ellis’ dick although he had no chance to refuse was easy for me to rationalise away. But fucking him? I knew that that was way over the line. If he was emotionally aware; and I was almost completely certain that he was after his tears at his brother’s graveside; then he would feel totally violated after what I had done to him last night. Even if he was gay; and the odds were very much against it, taking him against his will was not the act of someone who cared about him, it was the act of a monster. I had let my lust get the better of me, and even if he never recovered from the Blank virus, inside, he would always hate me for what I had done.
To make matters worse, I was still hard, still inside him. I had spooned him closely all night, made much easier by the fact that he didn’t move in the slightest, and now, whether it was my body’s arousal at the warmth of his hole, or simply morning wood caused by a full bladder pressing against my prostate, I could feel my dick straining hard inside his hot rectum.
I slid gently out of him, and crept out of the bed like someone trying not to wake their partner as they prepare for work. I tiptoed to the bathroom and washed my dick using a little water from a 5 gallon container that I kept there. My dick wasn’t actually shitty which was a small relief. I’d always wondered about that, but on this occasion, it was clean. But in a weird way I think I was trying to wash the guilt off me.
I returned to the bedroom and dressed. I knew that Ellis wouldn’t show his disapproval; couldn’t show it, but I felt a crushing weight of guilt for taking advantage.
I woke him up, and as usual he was hard. I barely glanced at it.
“Ellis, get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast,” I said, not meeting his eyes.
I went down and left him alone, and two minutes later he joined me. I made him breakfast in silence, and I didn’t put any music on whilst we ate. I didn’t even know how to broach the subject, and I’d never been good at apologies. How could you even apologise for this?
I lead him to the garden and we spent the day working. The only words I said to him were instructions. I cared deeply about him, but now I felt fake. How could I claim to care about him; to be his friend if I was willing to do that to him?
We had lunch, then worked till dusk when we had supper. The oppressive weight of my guilt was overwhelming.
I know that some people might say, “It’s a totally new world after an apocalypse. The rules have changed.” Or “Well you’re going to be looking after him for the rest of his life, you’re entitled to a little fun.” Or they might even try to rationalise that Ellis was not even human any more without the ability for autonomy, but I knew in my heart that all of that was just weasel words. I no more had the right to fuck him without his permission, than I had the right to go to a hospital and start fucking the patients. Worse still, I knew if I had only asked his permission, he might have been able to say no, and worse still, he probably would have. Emphatically so.
That night, I put him to bed in my parent’s room again. I didn’t have the right to take comfort from his warm body. I was a predator who had raped a teenage kid simply because he was in no position to refuse me.
The next day was just as quiet, and the next. Finally on the fourth day, I realised that my silence was punishing HIM for my transgressions. As we ate lunch, I tried to explain myself.
“Ellis, what I did to you. I know it was wrong. Terrible. You probably hate me. You’re right to feel like that. You depend on me to keep you alive and it must be terrifying to wonder if I’ll do it again but I swear to you that I’ll never do anything else like that to you. I’ll never lose control again I promise. I know I’ve ruined everything. I can’t ask you to forgive me, but at least know that I’ll take care of you and that you’ll be safe.”
I’d promised that to him once before, and then violated it. I hoped he wouldn’t remember my earlier promise when we were in his back yard.
Of course, he had no way of showing his reaction to my monologue and all of the guilt was in my own head. We finished our meal and we went out foraging for gasoline for a few hours. I made a conscious decision to talk to him. I realised that my guilt was punishing him all over again, leaving him trapped in his silence.
“I don’t know if you even WANT to hear the sound of my voice any more Ellis, but I’m gonna talk anyway, because otherwise you might as well be on your own.”
I tried to resume my former level of communication with him, chattering about my plans, and the future, and our supplies, and the old world, and school, and anything else that crossed my mind. At first it was strained, but after a couple more days, it came a little easier.
True to my word, we came and planted flowers on his parents’ graves, and took care of the one on Sean’s grave. Ellis didn’t cry again.
At bed time, I left him to undress alone, returning only to put him to bed safely. I suppose I could have just told him to undress and get into bed, and I was deliberately not ogling his body any more.
Things settled into a routine, and my mood gradually lightened, although there was always a shadow in my mind.
It staggered me that we had not seen a single living soul. It was months now. Maybe the whole world was dead except us?
Sometimes in the early evenings, we would simply sit in lawn chairs in the back yard, with the music playing. I had over a thousand gallons of gasoline now stored in the garages of my neighbours, and I was starting to use the generator to power a battery charger and to recharge my phone. Although there was still nothing but static on the radio, I still turned it on intermittently just to check, but the hiss of white noise was a depressing reminder of what we’d lost, and I was leaving longer and longer gaps between tries.
Time started to lose almost all meaning. Weekends and weekdays were no more or less significant than each other. However, about 7 weeks after I fucked Ellis, I noticed that he was starting to get a lot more boners. He almost always had them in the morning, but now he would frequently get one when we sat down in the garden. I looked at him reclining in his board shorts, an unmistakable lump lifting the light cotton. For the first couple of weeks I ignored it, and he would sit there pitching a tent for as much as an hour at a time. Then it occurred to me that he might be desperate for release.
I was afraid that it might be seen as taking advantage, but his body’s needs were clear. If it was me, sitting around with an unresolved boner day after day, I think I would have been going crazy after a few days.
In the end, I decided that it was unfair to deny him release simply because I’d fucked up. I decided to do something, but strictly for his benefit. The next time we were sitting in the garden, I looked down at the tent in his shorts.
“Got quite the boner there Ellis. I notice you’ve been horny a lot recently. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to take care of it for you okay?”
There was a long pause. I didn’t expect that he was going to answer. Then he said, “Yes.”
I pulled his shorts and briefs down past his knees. Now he was half-sitting, half reclining in the lawn chair, bare assed, his undersized rod straining skywards between his legs. I thought about giving him a blow job, but this was for him, not me. I knelt down and jacked him off slowly, but in less than a minute he started to ejaculate. I pumped my hand lightning fast in his lap to maximise his pleasure and he shot a monumental load. Seven weeks worth. The first jet hit his tanned chest with an audible splat, and it was quickly followed by half a dozen more.
To my utter shock, he made a sound “Unnnnhh,” and lifted his hips from the chair as though thrusting at the sky. I looked at his face, his eyes were wide, but no longer distant. I jacked him until he had finished squirting, and for a little while longer, watching his face closely all the while. He glanced down at me, blinked a few times like a boy coming out of a trance, but then he was gone again.
He didn’t answer.
“Ellis can you hear me?”
My voice was loud, almost hysterical.
His voice was emotionless.
“Oh Ellis,” I said, “Pleeeease come back.”
I kissed him on the cheek. I was emotional. For a moment I thought that he had regained his senses. And then he was lost again. It was crushingly disappointing.
Then it occurred to me. Maybe it was the orgasm that had done it. Perhaps the power of it had done something to his brain? I wondered if there was a correlation between the amount of time that he had gone WITHOUT an orgasm and the effect it had on him. I wasn’t willing to wait another 7 weeks to find out.
For two weeks, two or three times a day, I’d get Ellis to drop his pants, then I’d give him a very slow teasing wank lasting a few minutes. I used the softest of contact, and only touched him for a few seconds at a time, moving my hand away for 5 to 10 seconds immediately after so that it would take the edge off. A few days after I started the routine, I’d tell him to drop his pants and he would be rigid within seconds of the fresh air hitting his dick, even before I touched him. Sometimes I would leave him standing with a boner for 15 minutes before I even started working on him.
My idea was to make him so horny that it forced his brain to start working; to make that connection once more. I teased and edged him, never allowing him to orgasm.
By the middle of the second week, he was no longer a robot. He was so horny his dick would drool at the slightest touch, and he’d make little groaning noises as I stroked him. He even started grinding his dick towards my hand. As soon as he did that, I’d move away completely, and though his expression was still devoid of emotion, he’d make a pitiful little whine, like a puppy denied its favourite toy.
Finally, by the end of the second week, I was ready to test out my theory. His growing responsiveness to my teasing masturbation already appeared to corroborate what I suspected.
I told him to strip naked and lay on the couch. He obeyed, and as he reclined, his rigid dick stood up like the pointer on a sundial. I looked at him and for a moment the joke about the way that Red Indians tell time popped into my head.
I had already prepared some items I was going to use. My intention was to make him so unbearably horny that when I finally allowed him to cum, it would blow a gasket in his brain. I had this picture in my head of a blocked pipe bursting under the pressure. I had absolutely no idea if it was a realistic expectation, but what else did I have?
I knelt beside him and poured baby oil on my hands, then I rubbed them together to make sure they were properly covered. I slowly slid my fist down Ellis’ straining shaft then past his tight balls. His cock twitched as I released him, as though eager for more attention. I denied him, and instead cupped his nuts in my hand and played with them gently for a few minutes.
Ellis was lying there breathing regularly and deeply, but his cock was twitching like crazy and it was clear that his libido was fully engaged. I made a small ring between my finger and thumb, then softly jacked just his glans for ten seconds. His cockhead started swelling still further so I stopped.
I had no idea how to edge somebody, and even less idea how to do it with someone who couldn’t speak or move. I figured lots of small motions, lightly tickling his glans, interspersed with frequent pauses and long periods indirect stimulation was the best way to keep him close without blowing his load. I knew from previous experience that his balls rose into a tight little nugget just before he came, so I kept an eye on them, careful not to cross that threshold. When they’d start to rise, I’d ease off waiting however long it took until they dropped lower in his sack, his cock twitching in silent demand for attention.
Then I’d build up slowly again, languidly jacking his shaft but staying away from the nerve-rich helmet, and ensuring that whilst he never got to cum, I kept his dick rock hard all the time. If I felt it softening, I’d give the head a little attention, making small circles on the helmet with the tip of my index finger, sliding across the oily surface, or worrying at the back where the bisected halves of his glans met.
After fifteen minutes of this, his cock started to ooze pre-cum and he started whimpering again. I knew that I had to be driving him crazy, and it occurred to me that I’d never bothered to explain my plan to him. In his mind, this might be just another sick way for me to get off or to punish him for something.
“Ellis, I know that this must be driving you crazy, but I’m not doing it for me. That time when you came so hard in the garden you came out of the Blank for a moment. I was hoping that if I make you cum even harder, or I can make you more horny, it might be permanent. I’m sorry if it’s frustrating, but bear with me dude.”
He didn’t respond and I didn’t expect him to. I lightly gripped his slippery glans from the top using all five finger tips, then I made a kneading motion, using just the very slightest contact.
He made a trembling high pitched squeaking noise.
I couldn’t tell if it was pain, frustration, or arousal, but I carried on for a few seconds, allowing my finger tips to catch on the uncharacteristically angular back edge of his glans. He literally gave a shiver each time I did so. I saw his balls rising again.
I let go of his glans and moved away.
“Time for a break.”
His cock twitched and bounced, two, three, four times. It could have been just a response to his arousal as his body’s autonomic system fired off the nerves of his penile muscles, but I was pretty certain that I was witnessing an aborted orgasm as his cock was denied stimulation at the critical moment. His cock was literally going through the pumping motion, without the accompanying ejaculation that would provide satisfaction.
His cock continued twitching seven, eight, nine times, each twitch tensing his cock for a little longer than the one before, then it held its contracted position for five seconds before finally, slowly easing off.
I gripped his balls.
“That was close. I think you nearly came there.”
I gripped his nuts firmly in my fist. They felt like tiny peeled lychees in my fist; small, soft, delicate, and slippery. I tugged them downwards. He didn’t have much play in his sack. I squeezed a little as I pulled them, rubbing them between my fingers. I wanted to cause him discomfort so that I could restart the cycle.
Crystal clear pre-cum was drooling copiously from his penis. I’d never made pre-cum so I was fascinated, but this was all about him.
I picked up a soft hand towel and vigorously rubbed the head of his cock. I wasn’t concerned about the pre-cum but I was about to start using my mouth on him, and I didn’t want the taste of baby oil in my mouth.
I leaned forwards and wrapped my mouth around his glans, pressing my tongue against it, and using my lips to ensure my teeth didn’t rub against the sensitive skin. At first, I didn’t move, I just held him in my mouth, letting him feel the warmth of it on his helmet, and allowing his anticipation to fuel his imagination. I had blown him numerous times, and on each occasion he had always blown his load spectacularly. It was clearly an experience he enjoyed greatly.
I tugged and simultaneously squeezed his balls. At the same time, I started slowly licking at his helmet, using small strokes at first, then gradually adding a bobbing head movement and using my lips on the rim of his glans. I felt his balls start to contract towards his stomach, so I pulled harder, allowing the pain to counter his body’s desperation to orgasm.
I felt the stickiness of his pre-cum as he drooled into me. It had a milder taste than his cum but was still slightly sweet.
Using the fingertips of my other hand in opposition to my thumb, I massaged his perineum using long firm strokes. It wasn’t an erogenous zone per se, but it was a way to touch the base of his cock so that every part of it was being stimulated.
In amongst his occasional whimpers, I could hear his breathing. Apart from the time I’d made him jog for me, it was the first time I’d heard its tempo change. He was panting now, almost gasping with lust.
I looked at his face. His expression didn’t seem so distant any more. As though his vision was coming back into focus.
“Lift your knees up Ellis.”
“This is gonna feel weird, but I promise it will make you feel good.”
I oiled a finger and slipped it into his bottom. At first I just lightly fingered his starfish, sliding my finger in and out up to the first joint. Ellis swallowed hard several times, and his breathing became ragged, its rhythm disrupted by his lust.
I wrapped my lips around his helmet again. I’d been edging him for nearly an hour. Ready for the big finish. I just hoped it would be enough.
I started bouncing my face on the last inch of his cock, stimulating the rim of his glans with my lips. At the same time, my tongue flickered snake-like across the dome of its head. The fist that had held his balls, now twisted on them lightly, working not to cause discomfort, but to accentuate his ecstasy with a gentle massage.
He started squirming on the couch like a mongoose wrestling a snake. He gasped with every exhalation, his husky adolescent voice driven wild with sexual euphoria.
I slid my finger deeper into his anus, searching for the small lump that I knew was there: his prostate. When I found it, I started massaging by rubbing my finger tip firmly back and forth over its surface.
Ellis writhed harder, and I bobbed my head faster. It was impossible to move my head as fast as a pumping fist, but the combination with my tongue, especially after so much forced abstinence and edging was even more explosive.
Ellis suddenly arched up, bridging his hips up off the couch and supporting his weight between his head and his feet. I allowed my face to move with him, and I moved every part of me that was stimulating him as fast as I could to ensure that his orgasm was as powerful as possible.
I worked on him, forcing his body to give up two week’s worth of store cum in a single epic explosion of lust. He twisted his hips towards me, rolling from his bridge to his side, then he literally fell of the couch with a bump. He immediately thrust his pelvis up towards me so that I would continue blowing him. I dipped my head and continued, but instead of grabbing his balls again, I used that hand to jack the bottom of his shaft. I could only get two fingers on.
I sucked and wanked and poked until he stopped cumming, then I continued sucking as he collapsed back to the floor utterly spent. And I continued as he lay there, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, temporarily robbed of his strength by the orgasm of a lifetime.
Eventually he found his strength. I felt him pushing my head away from his groin.
“Stop. Stop now. I’m done.”
His voice was like music to me. I quickly swallowed the last of his cum and looked up at his face.
He looked down at me.
“You fucked me. You fucking raped me.”
His voice was hoarse, but this time it wasn’t the vagaries of puberty causing its tone, it was emotion. I was momentarily disorientated by the change of pace. My moment of triumph turned bitter before I even got to celebrate.
He scrambled backwards away from me looking at me like a potential murderer.
“I can’t believe you fucked me up the ass! When there was nothing I could do about it.”
He suddenly seemed to realise that he was naked. He looked down at his still rigid penis, then quickly covered it with his hands. He looked around for his clothes, then picked them up and hastily pulled his pants and shorts on.
What could I say? He was right.
I stood up, and he edged towards the front door. He was afraid of me, and that hurt me even more. There was so much I wanted to say but it all felt like it would be hollow. Eventually I settled on just three words:
“I’m so sorry.”
“Keep away from me,” he said, backing away further. He had his hand on the door handle now. “Just stay right away from me. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
He opened the door and ran outside.
I desperately hoped he would come back. I knew there was no food in his house, and we had raided most of those nearby as well. But he didn’t return. I feared that he may have headed for the city, and that I would never see him again.
I had no right to bother him, but I was also fearful that if he suffered recurrence of the Blank virus that he might be slowly dying. On the evening of the second day, I crept up to his house. I sneaked around to the back and through a hedge that was now growing unruly with no one to trim it, I saw him sitting in the back yard. He was crying again. I wanted more than anything to comfort him, but my presence would probably only make him feel worse.
I ran back to my house and got the photo of Ellis and his brother which had sat on our mantle alongside a photo of my parents. I stuffed some food into a backpack, then I returned to Ellis’ house. I put the backpack on the front porch, along with a note. The note said, “Ellis, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you. If there’s anything I can do to help or to make it up, just tell me and I’ll do it. I thought you might want this photo back. Will Corre.”
It occurred to me that he might not be able to find my house even if he wanted to, so I added my address. Then I knocked on the door, and ran and hid. I watched as he cautiously approached the door, then opened it and read my note. He picked up the backpack, took out the framed photo and looked briefly at the food. Then he looked around to see me.
“You’re an asshole!” he shouted in no general direction.
And he was right. I was. Maybe the two last people in the world and one of them was a fucking rapist. All of my self loathing rushed back as I walked back to my house.
After a week and he still hadn’t returned. I was so low that I briefly considered killing myself to end my misery. But I quickly shook it off. Ellis might despise me but I still cared about him. It was my mission to protect him for the rest of my life. I took another bundle of food and left it on his door step. Then a few days later another. Every few days I took more food, and sometimes water, leaving them on his porch, and each time they would be gone by the following day. I suppose you could interpret my actions as being a stalkerish, but with just two of alive, Ellis was too important to leave to fate.
As the second week came to a close, I remembered something I had seen at Ellis’s house. I searched through my stockpiles of food, then took something to him. A box of Froot Loops. I hoped that he was the one with a taste for them. I added a note. “Saw these in your house. Thought you might like them.”
I returned to my house and continued working on the garden. Some of the food was ready to eat. I harvested some potatoes and greens. I couldn’t stand greens but I figured the vitamins were important.
As the afternoon drew towards evening, I went inside to make myself a Gatorade. I heard a quiet knock on the door. I peeped from the lounge bay window. It was Ellis. He was a carrying a large backpack. I opened the door.
“Hello Ellis,” I said cautiously. “How are you?”
He shrugged. He looked small and sad.
“Can I stay here with you?”
My heart jumped, but I played it cool. I didn’t want to freak him out. I stepped back to allow him in.
“Sure. Of course you can.”
I wanted to say a million things to him. I wanted to beg his forgiveness. I wanted to cry and declare my love for him. I wanted to fall on my knees and thank him for giving me another chance.
But I said nothing.
He walked in. He had plenty of room to walk around me, but he walked close and bumped the front of his shoulder against the front of mine.
“You’re a real asshole.”
“I know I am.”
He dropped his pack then took out the photo of Sean along with one of his parents. He put them on the mantle besides my parents.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
“Of course it is. They belong up there.”
He gave me a sad look that almost broke my heart. He was hurting.
I reached out my arms. He looked at me suspiciously, but then he came to me anyway. I hugged him and for the first time, he hugged me back.
“Why did you do it?” he asked.
“What?” I replied caught off guard.
“You know what.”
I contemplated giving my explanation to the air so that I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye, but I felt I owed him that much.
I moved away and sat on the couch. He sat at the other end watching me and waiting. For a moment I realised what a joy it was to actually be ABLE to make eye contact.
I took a deep breath.
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I ever saw you. I love everything about you. Everything about you makes me horny.”
Ellis frowned apparently surprised that he could have such a profound effect on me.
“But you barely even talked to me at school. Why didn’t you make friends? We could have hung out.”
Now it was my turn to shrug.
“You know how it is. It’s hard to make friends with someone a couple of years younger. I didn’t want to be creepy.”
“But you were okay…” Ellis cut himself off mid-sentence. It was clear what he was going to say. I was touched that he cared enough not to be snipey when he had all the right in the world.
“I know,” I said, looking at the floor. Now that he could finally meet my eyes, I couldn’t meet his.
“It’s no excuse, but I was seeing you naked every day, and it was like a dream come true. And then when I started, you know…”
“Yeah, sucking my dick.”
“Well it was like you were normal again. Then that day, I was so horny, and it was like I could make things how I always dreamed they would be.”
Ellis waited in silence for a long time digesting my words. After a pause that was light years past uncomfortable he said, “You’re not ever gonna do that again are you?”
“No. No I swear on my life and…” I looked at the photos of our dead families. “Well, I swear on my life, I’d rather die than ever hurt you again.”
He looked at my face for the longest time. His gaze seemed to penetrate to my core as he appraised whether or not he could take a chance on me.
“You better not,” he warned, “I know all the moves in Street Fighter.”
I looked at him for a moment, then I got his joke. I laughed out loud, and he laughed with me. Probably the first time either of us had laughed in months.
“I’ll bear that in mind dude. Just one thing: why did you give me another chance? Was it the Froot Loops?”
“Nah, can’t stand them. But it reminded me what you did for Sean that time. What you did for me. I’d be dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for you.”
I didn’t feel entitled to take any praise for my good deeds, but it made me happy that he had remembered them.
“So what’s for dinner?” he asked.
“The first potatoes are ready. How do baked potatoes and beans sound?”
“Good. Very good in fact.”
Ellis reached into his bag and pulled out an MP3 player.
“Just one thing; can we listen to some of my music, Rihanna sucks!”
That night I went to bed, and Ellis went to my parent’s room. In a world almost devoid of people, I felt like I had won the lottery. A second chance was more than I deserved, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn it down.
As the last light faded, the three quarter moon shone in a dark sky. Then I heard a tap at my bedroom door. I rolled over and turned to the door.
Ellis opened the door and came in timidly. He stood just inside my room, naked.
“Can I sleep with you? That bed is too big. It makes me lonely.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I threw back the covers in invitation and he crept over to the bed. I had no idea how to read the situation, but I was taking no chances. I turned on my side facing away from him. He moved close and wrapped his arm around me. I swallowed.
“You don’t mind do you?” he asked.
“N… no,” I answered, stammering at the unexpectedness of it.
He spooned close to me. I felt him grinding his genitals against the crack of my buttocks. He rested his head against the back of my neck. My dick grew hard. I hoped he wouldn’t find out. I wanted him to feel safe around me. To know that I didn’t only see him as a sex object.
Then I felt his dick hardening against me, slowly extending up between my buttocks.
“You weren’t the only one at school who liked someone he was scared to speak to,” he said.
He nuzzled my neck and his hand moved from my chest to my straining dick…