Date: Mon, 5 Sep 2022 15:18:05 +0100 (BST) From: Peter Brown Subject: After Inverthrum: Chapter 1 After Inverthrum by badboi666 ===================================================================== If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ===================================================================== This story begins where "Last of the Line" ends - or at least it takes place between the end of Inverthrum in June 2103 and the Report of the discovery of Dab Cunliffe's papers in the Third Return over 500 years later. If none of that makes sense, you should read "Last of the Line" so that you know what has happened already. While this is not essential it might whet your appetite for more boy-on-boy and boy-on-man sex. Man-on-boy too, come to that. The early chapters are particularly bleak, but so was life in the 22nd Century. While life remained hard the opportunity for fucking - love, even - was never absent for long. Stick with it. ===================================================================== Chapter 1 I was lucky, or so I thought at the time. Looking back on everything which has happened since I'm not so sure. Still, I'm alive and healthy, and that's more than can be said for a lot of men my age. I was certainly lucky that day in June 2103. Jack and Hamish and I ... but you don't know whom I am, or who they are. Let me go back to that awful day. Dab Cunliffe - my first real lover, though I'd been fucked by plenty of men before him - had died a few months before. When we first met at my Grandfather's camp I had nearly shot him - we were very suspicious of strangers - but luckily (for both of us) it turned out that he and Grandfather had been at school together, and had shared a bed. He was 83 and I was 17. Jack and Hamish had been partners - no, dammit, lovers - for donkey's years: they were both 80 by then, and my job had been to keep them and Lairg - the village near Inverthrum - as safe as I could make it. And for two and a half years it worked fine until the climate fucked things up. What had been a hot fertile place - orange trees and the like - turned into somewhere where virtually nothing grew and the ground was frozen for several months of the year. Dab had explained all this to us, but knowing about sea currents didn't make coping with the consequences any easier. We had a name for the gangs who attacked us - jillies, we called them. I've no idea why. Dab said that they'd had jillies when he was a boy, but back then the stakes weren't so high: survival wasn't an issue. By 2103 jillies fought to take over anywhere with food or weapons, and they fought to kill. The three of us and the men from Lairg built defences as best we could, but the jillies were patient. We ran short of bullets in the third night and that was when someone got to Inverthrum and torched it while it was empty. A house that had stood for almost 300 years was a shell. A house in which Dab and his Billy and so many others had lived and loved was gone. Jack wept when he saw the smoking ruin the next morning, and a bit of him died that day too, I think. The final attack came the next night. You don't want to know the details. Most of the men from Lairg were killed - we had so little ammunition - and though we got a few jillies it made no difference in the end. Jack and Hamish were killed together when a grenade of some kind was thrown into the cottage they were firing from. At least it was quick, and they were together at the end, as they had been for most of their lives. The few women who were left were less lucky. I still don't fully understand why I wasn't rounded up with them and fucked too - maybe they never saw me. I'd been in another cottage 100 yards away with four of the village boys trying to pick off jillies one by one, and among us we'd got three of them. The grenade they must have thrown at us knocked me out cold, and by the time Andy brought me round it was dark and quiet again. I must have been out for hours. John and Sandy had been killed by the grenade. We tried not to look too closely. Andy and Finn had been in another room and had had the wit to stop firing in the hope that the jillies would think the grenade had killed all of us. The jillies had gone down the street shooting into doors until they reached the end of the street. One of them had shouted out that anyone still alive should surrender before the houses were torched. The few women and a dozen or so men came out from where they had been hiding. Andy couldn't bring himself to tell me what happened at first, but I made him calm down. "It's over, whatever it was, Andy, just take a deep breath and tell me." "They shot all the men and made the women get all the food and put it in a barrow. Then they shot the old ones and ... " "Go on, Andy," I said softly. "They raped the other five over and over again and then shot them." He started to cry - one of the victims had been his sister Flora, only 17 herself. Finn put his arms round him and held him: two 14-year-olds for whom childhood had never really happened, suddenly hurtled into a horrible horrible emptiness. "Have they gone? They took the food, I suppose?" Finn nodded. "How many were there?" Finn shrugged. "Ten or so, I think. There's bodies out there, and they're not all ours." "There's nothing we can do until morning," I said, "and until it's light we won't know whether the bastards are still nearby. In their shoes I'd wait in one of the village buildings to see whether this was a good place to stay. So let's be very quiet." Finn, still cuddling Andy, nodded. "OK, Stewart." ***** I am Stewart Stubbs, and I had become the leader of the survivors of what was left of Lairg and Inverthrum. It would be up to me to keep us all alive, always assuming we made it through the next 24 hours. If the jillies were still about we didn't stand much chance with no weapons and no ammunition. Dawn came early. Although it was still bitterly cold it was getting light by four o'clock. I poked Andy. "Stay here and keep quiet. I'm going to see what's what." I slipped out before he could suggest he was coming with me. I crept in the shadows towards the Village Hall. In the jillies' shoes that's where I would gather the food and whatever else they had found of value. Since they believed they had killed us all they hadn't bothered to post a sentry, and I was able to look in through the open door. I counted three of them lying there, and - far more interesting - I counted three empty whisky bottles. If they were sleeping it off I might be able to get them without the rest of them hearing. I was glad I was on my own, for the habits my Grandfather had taught me - stealth, ruthlessness - weren't skills Andy was likely to have. Not yet anyway. If I get through this, I thought, those skills will be the first things I teach them. I slipped my knife out of its sheath. One, two, three. A hand over the mouth while the other cut their throats. Nothing more than a bit of gurgling. I wiped the blade and wondered where the rest were. Upstairs, presumably, where there were a couple of store-rooms. If they had finished three bottles they were hardly likely to be waking soon, so I picked up a few grenades from the bodies and went quietly back to where Andy was. "Three down," I said softly. "How?" "Throats cut, but the rest of them are still out for the count. Silly of them to get pissed on whisky." Andy grinned. I poked Finn and put him in the picture. "The food is still there, as well as all their weapons. I'm going to fling a grenade or two up the stairs and if we're lucky that will finish them off. If not I'll just have to cut a few more throats. Both boys' eyes gleamed. "Your job is to keep out of sight, and when they're all dead you help me sort out what they have, and bring it here. OK?" Two enthusiastic nods. Ten minutes later it was over. It hadn't gone exactly to plan as one of the jillies hadn't been asleep when the two grenades blew seven of them to bits. He came roaring from another room, his gun blazing. Stupidly, because he failed to see the rope I'd tied across the top of the stairs. The cutting of his throat was much noisier, and done in the full sight of my two accomplices. "Come on, we must make sure there aren't any others," I said. I thought it very unlikely, but the boys' hearts were pumping and I thought they might as well get used to dead bodies while they were at it. First experience of combat and all that. "Fuck!" whispered Finn. Andy was silent. Grenades make an awful mess. By the time it was fully light we had manhandled the food and all the weapons back to the cottage. "What now?" asked Finn. "We make sure there's no-one else alive, or if there is we get them here. You two - go out and make a lot of noise, calling out for anyone to come to you. Take a gun each just in case." "I've never fired one," said Andy. "Nor me," from Finn. "I'll teach you later, but for now just point it and pull the trigger." I put a bullet up the spout for them. "Don't for God's sake fire it unless a jilly appears or you might kill each other." Finn grinned. While they were away I sorted what we had taken from the jillies and tried to think of a survival plan. We couldn't stay here, that was certain. It looked as though I was going to be the captain of this little band. I could do worse, I thought: they are sparky lads and ... This wasn't the time to dwell on that kind of thing, though they were both pretty little things. I was amused to feel my cock hardening. Cutting throats didn't get me hard (though some of my Grandfather's men used to say that killing got them ripe for a good fuck), but pretty 14-year-olds - well, doesn't everyone get hard when they flit through your mind? As I had expected the two of them came back by themselves. I'd heard the shouting and decided that no-one could have ignored the row. "So it's just us?" Finn nodded. "What are we going to do, Stewart?" asked Andy. I wished I could think of something quickly: we had to get away from the memories Lairg would hold for him - for all of us - but I knew that just leaving, without an aim, would be stupid. For all I knew there were jillies everywhere. "We're going to stay here and eat. Then we're going to make a plan." That seemed to satisfy them. Boys of 14, however traumatised, like the idea of food. And I knew that boys of 14, however traumatised and well fed, would be up for ... a little relaxation. "What food is there?" ***** I was right. Relaxation had been very welcome. I had decided that Finn was the more likely to respond - he hadn't just heard his sister being raped, after all - and so I'd sent Andy to gather wood for a fire. While he was out I asked Finn whether he and Andy were lovers. He laughed. "I wish," he said. "What's stopping you?" "I ... he might run off ... or ... I don't know." "Do you want me to find out for you? What if he fancies me instead?" I said this with a smile, so that Finn knew I wasn't put off by the idea that two 14-year-olds might be having sex together. Finn grinned. "Maybe he will, but if so he's got a rival." I felt his cock and was pleased to find it firming in my hand. "Me too," I murmured. Finn tested the truth of this for himself. That was when Andy came back with an armful of sticks. "I have news," I said, "and I hope you'll like it." He dropped the sticks by the range and began to prepare a fire. "Oh?" Finn went to stand beside him. "Listen, Andy, it's important," he said softly, and turned Andy's face to look into his. "Finn fancies you," I said, "and so do I. The question is whether you fancy him. And me, but he's the important one." "You mean ... like sex?" Finn nodded. Andy's face broke into a smile - no, that's a considerable understatement. Andy's face made it abundantly clear that any feeling Finn might have for him was fully reciprocated. "And you too, Stewart, but I was afraid to say so." I moved and put my arms round both of them. "That makes our band strong then. Let's make a fire and cook something, then after we've eaten let's explore." "But there's no exploring to be done," said Andy, "there's no-one here and we know everywhere." "Each other," I whispered. ***** Three hours later each of us knew a great deal more about each of the others, and Finn and Andy each knew a great deal more about himself. It was obvious that Andy and Finn weren't just fond of each other. We were exhausted by our explorations, and it was still daylight when the three of us fell asleep into the bed upstairs. I hadn't cum as often as I did that day since leaving Grandfather's camp in Carlisle when I wasn't much more than their age. Finn - lovely randy sexy Finn - had made it clear from the outset that he wanted cock - anybody's - up his arse as often as the cocks' owners could manage. Andy was taken aback by the urgency with which Finn made this known once all three of us were out of our clothes. "Christ, Stewart, I know where that's going," he growled. He got on all fours and waggled his arse invitingly. I'd much have preferred to fuck him on his back, but there would be plenty of time for that. Andy's eyes were popping - I think his idea of sex was mutual wanking, but Finn had gone instantly to more advanced stuff. I ploughed Finn's furrow hard that first time - I didn't last more than two minutes - while Finn's hand brought him quickly to a big cum. "Get yours in as soon as Stewart's out," moaned Finn. "Yes, come on Andy, don't stop to think about it," I said, "just get it in where it's needed." Andy was hesitant, "I've never done it before." "So," said Finn urgently, "you're not being marked for how well you do it. Just do it. Fill me up, Andy." Andy swallowed. His cock was hard. I took it in my hand and guided it in. "Aaah!" moaned Finn, "I've wanted this for so long." Andy didn't hesitate once it was in. Like any 14-year-old with no experience he went hell for leather, and that fuck lasted even less than mine had done. During the 30 or so seconds I had moved to Finn's head. "I'll give you another in an hour, don't worry." He grinned. "And I'll give your cock a nice ... ah ... he's cuming." Andy was noisy. The whole of Lairg would have known he was cuming. I kept my promise to Finn, but only after the three of us had cuddled naked and sticky. We talked about what we might each do to the others, and it didn't take long for Andy's initial shyness to disappear. "I never thought I'd get to fuck anyone," he said softly, "and I'm glad it was you, Finn." "Are you fond of him?" I asked. Andy blushed. "Yes," he whispered. "Well, kiss him then." "I can't," he muttered. "Well I'll kiss you then," said Finn, "because I'm fond of you too. Come here." Five minutes later I thought it right to part them - after all, there was more fucking to be done. And Andy was no longer reticent about kissing. ***** That night, like most following nights, we slept curled up together, me on the outside with my two 14-year-olds wound like a pair of kittens, purring happily. I lay awake thinking about what I would have to do about keeping all three of us alive - where being the most urgent question. There was enough food for the three of us for several days, but the likelihood of finding any more wasn't great. The idea of going back to my Grandfather's camp at Carlisle wasn't great either - the quasi-fascist regime had palled once I'd tasted the freedom on Inverthrum. It was dangerous up here in Sutherland, but there was no rigid fear-based structure. Carlisle was a last option if all else failed ... but what else was there? I finally fell asleep, lulled by my kittens' gentle snoring and the exhaustion of energetic sex with them. Andy woke suddenly with a cry. "Flora!" he shrieked. It was light - around six, I judged. "Shh! Shh! It's all right," I murmured, "you're safe with Finn." Finn, wide awake now, squeezed a rigid Andy, but couldn't find any words of comfort. A new dilemma for me to deal with. Andy would need the ritual of burying Flora before his mind could start to heal over what had been done to her, and if we buried Flora we'd have to bury the other dead villagers. The jillies could rot. I remembered when we'd hung dead jillies from trees a few years earlier. Stupid of me - we hadn't buried anyone for years as the earth had been too hard. Dab and others had gone on pyres, just as their forebears had done a thousand years ago. It was a huge task gathering enough wood, and it quickly became obvious that there wasn't enough for a big pyre. When we'd built it we stopped for a rest. "Listen," I said, "we can't do this for everyone, so let's just do it for Flora, and her flames must honour the rest of the Lairg dead. We'll gather them and lie them together honourably, and they'll remain together always. "What about the jillies?" said Finn. "Fuck them!" shouted Andy. "There'll be no honour for them, Andy," I said, "they'll be piled up in a heap." That seemed to satisfy him, and when we'd had something to eat we set to the business of carrying the Lairg bodies to the Hall. We dragged the remains of the jillies to Old Willie's croft where the dunghill was handy. I took a cottage door off its hinges and we laid poor Flora's body on it, decently covered with a curtain, and we lifted it onto the pyre. "Let her lie there tonight," said Andy softly, "and we'll light it at dawn." I nodded - this was his ceremony, after all. By then it was late afternoon and I knew we had to discuss what we were going to do the next day after we'd said farewell to Flora. "Have either of you ever been away from Lairg?" I asked. As I suspected neither of them had ventured more than a few miles - ten at most - from where they'd been born. I'd been on recce trips with each of them, as I had with all the boys and men of Lairg, but the bounds I'd set had never been crossed. "We can't stay here. There aren't enough of us to gather food as well as keep a watch for jillies. We need to find another group who will accept us, and who will let us stay and bring our skills to help them. So I need to know what skills each of us has. What about you, Andy? I'm sure you want to kill jillies, but do you know how?" "You taught all us boys to fire a rifle, and I'm good at that. I don't know whether I could shoot someone though." "That's honest. Let's hope you find the ability if the other bastard might shoot you first." "You cut the jillies' throats - will you teach us that?" I nodded. "You'll need to know that if we're going to survive," I said gravely. "I can teach you that. What are you good at?" He thought for a while - the skills he had, whatever they were, didn't seem to him to amount to much. I prompted him. "Can you gut an animal?" He scoffed. "'Course I can, Stewart, and a fish and a bird." "So can I," added Finn, silent until then, "and I can set traps - both of us can." We weren't likely to starve then. "Good, my fine fellows," I said, ruffling two blond heads, "I'll make men of you yet." Finn wasn't going to miss an opportunity like that. "Will you make men of us again tonight?" ***** That night there was much less hesitancy about what we did and, because it wasn't new, there was much less urgency. When it was twilight and we'd eaten I led them to bed - three naked males with three hard cocks. Three mouths; three arses; infinite possibilities. We lay together, each of us knowing that the next hour or two would be full of pleasure, and each of us knowing that waiting would only increase the delights. "Let's talk," I whispered. I was lying on my back with the boys on their backs on either side of me. "Tell us what you like best so that we know. You first, Andy." "I'm not sure. I loved fucking Finn, but it was over so quickly." I turned to look at him. "Not next time. You'll soon learn how to make it last. What else?" "I don't know. Everything, I suppose." Finn laughed. "Yeah. I'm gonna fuck you, Andy, and you'll love it. I do. It's the best." I smiled to myself. I had on either side of me two boys keen to experience everything that another boy - or a man, come to that - could do by way of pleasure-giving. All I had to do was keep the three of us alive long enough to tick all the boxes. But that was a problem for the next day: tonight was about opening doors (eyes, mouths, arses). "Is there anything you don't want?" I said, turning to the more adventurous Finn. He shrugged. "Doubt it, Stewart, but why don't we find out by trying?" "What about you, Andy?" Again he paused. "If it hurts I won't like it." Finn chuckled. "Oh, it'll hurt a bit the first time. No, it'll hurt quite a lot maybe the first time, but I promise -" (and he leant over me and put his lips very close to Andy's) "- it won't hurt nearly as much the second time, and it won't hurt at all pretty soon. Besides, even the first time once it stops hurting it's unbelievable." It was my turn to chuckle while Finn's lips and Andy's renewed their friendship. "It's true," I whispered, "trust me." "But it won't hurt at all if it's in my mouth, will it?" Finn rolled back to lie beside me. "Can we get on with it, Stewart? My arse needs company." I turned to Andy. "Right, Andy, it's time to find out about your pain threshold. You are about to fuck Finn for the second time, and this time I promise you'll last longer - maybe a lot longer." Andy rolled over me, keen to get on with it. "Whoa! Not so fast. He needs to be warmed up." "But I'm on fire. Can't you feel the heat coming out of my arse?" "Patience. You'll enjoy it much more if you have to wait for it. Knees by your ears, Finn, and let the dog see the rabbit." I think I enjoyed the next 15 minutes almost as much as Andy and Finn did. I'd have preferred to show Andy what to do, but I held back, and merely told him. "You want me to lick his arse?" "Don't be a jessie, I'll lick yours, don't worry." This from Finn, keen for things to get going. "Yes, Andy, I won't ask you to do anything Finn or I wouldn't be happy to do to you." A snort from Finn, still waiting. "Happy, my arse. Bloody keen more like. Now get on with it, Andy. Do what teacher tells you." Andy bent to his task. He had decided that he would suspend any thought that what he was about to be instructed to do might be ... what exactly? Unpleasant? No, for Finn's arse turned out to be quite nice to lick. Not smelly - well, only a bit and only at first. It was warm and ... interesting. Finn was twitching. Had he made that happen? "Lick round his hole." Andy obeyed and the twitching increased. "You're doing a grand job, Andy. Now lick under his balls." Writhing would now have been a better word. Gosh! Without being instructed to do so Andy moved up and took - for the first time - a cock into his mouth. His tongue, equally without instruction, began to do things which, ten minutes before, Andy could not have imagined. Finn groaned a wordless warning which Andy was too inexperienced to understand. Finn arched his back and came gloriously and invisibly. "Keep it in, Andy," I urged. "Swallow when he stops." Andy passed Lesson 1 with flying colours. Not a drop was split. "That was weird," he said when Finn's cock had slipped from his mouth. "Nice though. Funny taste, but not nasty." Finn pulled Andy down onto him and their mouths met. I wondered if this was the first time Finn had kissed someone who had so recently swallowed his cum. I waited until they had had enough. "Now you fuck him, Andy, while he's still hot from spunking." "Yeah, come on in, big boy, and give me yours." I thought it wise to check whether Finn's arse was wet enough to receive visitors, and it took me only a couple of minutes to be certain. Finn had purred throughout my investigation. "Later," I whispered. ===================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 2 as the boys and I continue our adventures. Where will we go? Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. =====================================================================