Date: Tue, 13 Sep 2022 14:37:02 +0100 (BST)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: After Inverthrum Chapter 2

After Inverthrum by badboi666

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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.

http://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.
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Chapter 2

The next morning we lit Flora's pyre and watched as the flames competed
with the rising midsummer sun. It was still cold - we had to get south,
away from the memories and away from a place which would not see us survive
a winter with just the three of us. As the flames blazed we held hands,
watching, honouring, grieving. At last Andy turned away. "It's done," he
said, "what do we do now, Stewart?"

"We have to go south where at least the winter won't kill us. My family,
what there is of it, was in Carlisle three years ago when Dab brought me
here. I don't know if they're still there, but even if they are I don't
want to join them. I'm sure they would help us if I asked them to - weapons
and so on - but staying there: no. No way." Finn asked where Carlisle was,
and that brought me up short. These boys had no knowledge of what lay more
than a handful of miles from where they had been born. I explained that
Carlisle was a town on the border between Scotland, where Lairg was, and
England. That meant nothing either. "OK, it's a town about 300 miles south
of here - that's a good 15 days away if there's nothing slowing us down on
the way." That satisfied them: 15 days was a good long time and this
Carlisle place wasn't going to happen soon. Since I wasn't sure I wanted to
go there anyway I let it drop. "So what will we do?" persisted Andy.

"As I said, we have to go south. But we don't have to leave this
minute. Let's think about what we might need, and how we're going to
travel. I don't want to walk 300 miles any more than I suppose you two
do. Can either of you manage a horse?" They both snorted. "Of course we
can." There were half a dozen horses in the village, brought in over the
years as diesel for tractors had become impossible to find. There were a
few carts, and if we could make two or three of them serviceable we could
harness a horse to each with the other horses following on a loose
rein. Horses were valuable, and having a few to sell or barter would make
our progress more likely to succeed. Provided we weren't robbed. That was
why weapons were as important as horses.

"We must make a list of all the stuff we're going to need," I said, "food,
warm clothes, blankets, weapons, anything you can think of. We can help
ourselves to anything we need as no-one's going to need them apart from
us. Why don't you two go together and bring as much warm clothing and
blankets and so on that you can find. Bring them here and pile them up in a
corner. Meanwhile I'll gather as many weapons as I can find. I know where
most of them are stored.

 Back here in two hours - and don't move out of the village. Yell if
there's anything you don't like." "Like what?" said Finn. I didn't want to
put it into their heads that there might still be jillies - or villagers -
still not quite dead, so I just shrugged. "Anything."

Guns were no good without ammunition. The sight of a gun might stop anyone
from attacking us, but if the attack persisted and we didn't fire we were
sitting ducks. Shotguns made an alarming noise, and would do to frighten
off anyone not themselves well-armed, but rifles, handguns and proper
assault weapons were what I really needed. The jillies had a small arsenal
so we wouldn't go short of firepower. I made several journeys back to our
HQ in the cottage and soon had a decent armoury. The boys came in from time
to time with food of various kinds - mostly meat which wouldn't keep, even
in the cold, for more than a few days. Food was going to be our most
immediate problem once we'd got through what would be edible. I wasn't in
any doubt that I could get a deer now and again, but we'd have to cook it,
and that posed another set of problems. I began to realise how much Jack
and Hamish and the other villagers had done, all of which I'd taken for
granted. And I still had no clear plan about where we should go. Ideally
... no, I hadn't even got as far as deciding what "ideally" meant. I'd told
them yesterday that we should try to find another group - a larger one -
which would accept us and where we could add something useful to them to
make them trust us. Easier said than done though. My skill was in killing,
and making a group of strangers see that without their feeling threatened
wasn't going to be easy.

After two hours we had a lot of stuff in the cottage - food, weapons, warm
clothing. Andy said that they had found the horses and they had seen to
feeding them. "They'll be fine, Stewart, I can handle them all right," he
said. "What about a cart?" "We didn't look, but I know where they're kept."
"Let's go now then, and have something to eat when we get back."

There were five carts in Lairg at that time, but two of them were in poor
condition. The other three were sound, and one of them looked as though we
could rig up some kind of shelter - a cabin, perhaps - to sleep in. After
we'd eaten we harnessed three of the horses and drove the carts to HQ. We
were beginning to look like a proper little expedition. Andy and Finn
brought the other two horses and we led the five of them into the field
beside us. They seemed happy enough. "I didn't know you two could ride," I
said. "Och yes, all boys learn to ride as soon as they can walk now," said
Finn; riding was as routine to them as killing had been to me in
Carlisle. "Can you not ride, Stewart?" "No, there's never been horses where
I've lived. But I'm sure you'll be able to teach me. Finn grinned. "It'll
be good to teach you something when you've taught us so much." I wasn't
sure whether it was weapon training or sex that he was referring to, for my
instruction had been in both - and would continue to be, I had no doubt.

"Let's have another day here," I said, "and make sure that there isn't
anything else we should take with us. We'll leave when it gets light the
morning after." Both boys seemed happy with that. They knew that before
there was another day there would be another night, and another after that.



It had been 36 hours since I'd seen off the jillies and although the boys
had been out making a lot of noise I wanted to be completely sure that we
three were the only people still in Lairg. I thought about how to do it. If
I'd had another man, or a more experienced teenager, I'd have taken Andy
and Finn with me and spent three hours checking everything. But I had
no-one, and I couldn't leave one of the boys to defend all that we'd piled
up ready for our journey. We'd have to leave it unguarded, and though it
was a tiny risk it was one I wished I - we: start thinking "we", Stewart -
didn't have to take.

"Come on, we're going to make sure we're alone. Get a rifle each and keep
close to me." Both boys scrambled to their feet - this was the sort of
thing they were keen to learn about. I'd been out with all the boys in the
village during the three years I'd been here, but the training they would
need now would be much more intensive. Neither Andy nor Finn had flinched
from laying out our dead in a respectful way, and piling the dead jillies
on Willie's dung heap had perhaps been useful in hardening them to the
rigours of what would lie ahead, even though those bodies were in many
cases more like meat than human beings. I had no idea what we might find in
our search. "This is going to be hard for you," I said, "we may find people
you know who are dead or dying, and there is nothing we can do for any of
them. Are you sure you can cope with it?"

"No," said Finn, "but we don't have any choice. I hope I can cope with
whatever happens, but if not ... No, I'll manage, Stewart."

 Andy muttered "me too. Let's do it."

It took us more than three hours.

 We found only one more body - an old woman who had been dead for some
days. Moving her body to lie with the others would have been impossible, so
we agreed to cover her and leave her in her bed. In one house there was
another old woman who was still alive, but only just. Andy went to
her. "It's Andy, Mrs Kerr, it's safe now - the jillies are all gone." She
opened her eyes. "That's good, Andy, but I'm tired. Let me be, son, and
I'll soon be gone. Give me a wee sip of water."

She seemed not to be in pain, but there was nothing we could do: she would
die slowly if we left her. I had a difficult decision and I made it
quickly. One merciful bullet was all it needed, and she had no inkling it
was coming.

Finn yelled at me. "You bastard!" Andy leapt back - the noise had been
shattering. "Why ... you killed her ... you're as bad as the jillies."
"Yes, I killed her, but it was through kindness. We couldn't do anything
for her and we would have had to leave here to die - to starve to death -
alone. Would you have preferred that?" Neither of them said anything. I
remembered how I had felt, younger than they were, when I'd first witnessed
killing. It hadn't been easy. They would need time. "Shall we take her to
lie with the others, or leave here in her bed?" Finn said nothing, but
pulled the blanket over her. "I still think you're a bastard," he
muttered. I smiled to myself: he would grow up quickly - they both would.

Back at our HQ there remained an awkward silence, a silence which I knew I
wasn't going to break.

 "Let's eat," I said, and afterwards we'll go up to Inverthrum to see if
there's anything left.

*****

When we went up the familiar track the smell of burning was still heavy in
the air. As we approached my heart sank: this house had been my home for
over three years and I had loved and been loved within its walls. When we
rounded the last corner the desolation was clear - the roof had gone for
the most part and the walls were blackened above the windows as smoke had
poured out. There were still wisps of smoke, but there was no sign of
flames. The front door was half-open - had the jillies broken in to set it
on fire? We went carefully in. "Don't touch anything as it might still be
hot and you never know what might fall," I warned the boys.

Inside it was immediately clear that the fire had been confined to one side
of the house - the kitchen was ruined and from the look of the burn marks
that was where the fire had started. Dab's office, at the other side, was
largely untouched apart from smoke marks. The door had been locked as usual
and the flames hadn't broken through. "We'll go and look after we've been
upstairs. Keep behind me." The lay-out of the house, with a gallery going
round the upper floor, meant that the centre of the house had acted as a
giant chimney, and the roof had caught light quickly and had burned away -
only a little of it had fallen into the hall below. I moved carefully up
the stairs - the boys a few steps below - and I tested the floor. It seemed
safe if I kept close to the wall. I wanted to see what was left of the big
room at the back - the room Dab and I had made love in and where the sling
was kept. To my surprise it wasn't too badly damaged, but as it no longer
had much of a roof the rain would soon wreck everything in it.

"Come on up, but be careful," I said. Andy and Finn crept along and looked
into the big room. They had never been in Inverthrum before, so the sight
of such a large room surprised them. "Wow!" breathed Finn, "what happened
in here?"

I told them that it was really two bedrooms with a shower room in
between. "But no walls, as you see." "Why not?" asked Andy, "there's no
doors. Everyone can see when somebody shits." "That's the point," I said,
"everyone who lived in this house did everything together. Mainly fucking
and pissing, but if you needed a shit - well, you had one." Finn
grinned. "Sounds fun," he said. It was the first time I'd seen a smile
since I'd fired my gun.

"What's that thing?" Andy was pointing at the sling. "It's called a sling
and if it's undamaged we'll take it back to Lairg with us." I examined it
closely. It was filthy but as far as I could tell it hadn't suffered any
damage. "But what's it for?" persisted Andy. I put them out of their misery
and explained how a boy could snuggle down into it "and if you put your
feet in these loops your arse is nice and available." "You mean for
fucking?" Finn was eager. I nodded. It comes apart and I think we can get
it back to HQ in one journey. Are you up for it? Had they nodded any more
vigorously they might have done themselves an injury.

Fifteen minutes later the sling was in pieces outside the front door. It
was time to look in Dab's office. The combination still worked - Dab had
had fun making me guess what it might be when I first moved in with him -
and 6969 opened the door as it always had done. Dab's desk was as I had
left it only a few days earlier. The files were undamaged apart from smoke
- the smell was horrible - and there seemed no point in taking anything. We
would be travelling light and there would be no-one to read what Dab and
his ancestors had written. They could lie there for ever, untouched,
unread, slowly turning to dust. I looked around. I was suddenly overwhelmed
with a sense of loss. Until that moment I had been active, busy, full of
adrenalin; now in the heart of Inverthrum I was surrounded by Dab, by Jack
and Hamish, killed only a few days ago, their presence in the house still
very real.

Behind me the two boys were quiet. When the captain of your new little army
has tears running down his face and you are only 14 it's hard to know how
to react. I opened my arms. "I was loved here, lads." Andy's grief for
Fiona was still so near the surface that he was weeping too. Finn was still
and silent: the three of us tightly embraced among our ruined memories.

Thank God for the sling. Between us we managed to get it down to the
village. It was a struggle as parts kept falling, but it kept my mind from
dwelling on Inverthrum and its memories. At least it would bring pleasure
once we assembled it again. I was determined that, come what may, it would
accompany us when we left. But when? where? South obviously, but all I knew
of "south" was Carlisle. Was it freezing there in the winter? Dab had
explained what he believed had happened to turn a hot Sutherland into a
freezing one, but he hadn't told me whether that would have happened in
Carlisle. It probably would, I decided. I was feeling gloomy. Perk up,
Stewart, Andy and Finn need you to be strong.

After we had assembled the sling and cleaned it the boys were keen to put
it to use. "What happens?" asked Finn. "One of us gets in and lies down
with his feet in these, and his hands up here. When he's in his arse will
be nice and easy for someone to do all kinds of things. Finn, you love
being fucked, you get in first." Andy held the sling steady while Finn
climbed in. I fixed his ankles and wrists. "Comfortable?" He purred. "I
think I like this thing, Stewart. What happens now?" I looked at
Andy. "It's up to you. Do what you want. I'll go after you." I wanted to
see how inventive he would be - after all, anything beyond mutual wanking
was still pretty new to him.

It must have been the magic of the sling, or perhaps it was just the sight
of a 14-year-old arse so widely gaping, inviting, begging. He knelt and his
tongue began to explore. Finn's purring became louder. He tried to release
his arm from its loop so that he could get his hand on his cock, but he
couldn't. "It'll be better if it's delayed," I said softly, "just relax and
let the feelings build up. I've done this before." He smiled, the horrors
of the last couple of days forgotten for the moment.

Andy was a quick learner: his second visit to Finn's arse with his tongue
was more prolonged, more exploratory, than his first had been
yesterday. "Use your fingers as well," I whispered. "Inside?" "Yes, but be
gentle. Get him wet first." Finn's noises seemed to indicate that he was
happy with what was going on. When Andy's tongue was replaced by a licked
finger he moaned "mmm, that's so hot, Andy." After Andy's finger had
gingerly pushed in as far as it would go Finn murmured "two, maybe
three. I've had cocks up there which are a lot fatter than fingers." Andy
looked at me for confirmation: what he was being asked to do was outside
his comfort zone. I nodded. "If someone asks for something you can take it
that they want it, Andy, and you should feel the same. Get as many fingers
up there as you can. He'll tell you when to stop."

Andy got three wet fingers in and felt around. "There's a lump up
there. It's shit!" "No, it isn't," I said, "it's his prostate. It makes
spunk - well, it makes the juice. His balls make the stuff in the juice. I
promise it's not shit. Rub it and see what happens." From the wide grin on
his face Finn was acquainted with his prostate (though he told us
afterwards he didn't know its name or what it did) and looked forward to
Andy's getting to know it. "Mmm, yeah, rub it Andy." Ten seconds later Andy
was astonished to see a spunking greater than he'd ever seen before. "Fuck!
Did I do that?" Finn was beyond speech (although he groaned
encouragingly). "Yes, and yours will do the same when he gets his fingers
inside." "Can't wait, Stewart." "What are you going to do with what's
waiting on his chest? You made him do it, so you get first choice." "You
mean I can lick it up?" I nodded.

It wasn't pure altruism which let him go first - or maybe it was, because
no sooner had Andy taken his fingers out of Finn's arse than three of mine
- bigger and (from Finn's reaction) just as welcome - were in there. "Oh
fuck!" he breathed, "I love this sling thing. Give me a moment and then
fuck the daylights out of me."

Andy took his time to find every morsel. Finn had shot as far as his face,
so the process of locating it all was delayed while they kissed. I noticed
that Finn was happy to receive some of his own cum. I removed my fingers
and slid my cock deep inside. "Mmm!" I pulled the sling towards me, forcing
my cock even deeper. "Mmmmm!" Andy stood up, licking his lips. "Go for it,
Stewart," he said softly, "I want to see this." "I'll come on him if you
like." Andy's eyes flashed: he was rapidly turning into a keen
cum-swallower. "It'll be a while," I muttered, "why not kneel underneath
and get some of those magic fingers up my arse."

We were a happy, noisy, threesome. I lasted longer than I had expected - a
good 15 minutes - despite Andy's fingers inside me. "Nearly there," I
grunted, and whipped out in time to shoot five hard lines of cum onto a
sweating Finn. Andy was out of my arse in time to see - in time to catch
the after-drips in his mouth. To my amazement he took the whole of my cock
in his mouth. Although I'd just come it was still 7 inches. If we managed
to survive we would be a very happy trio: Finn was the perfect ever-hungry
bottom, Andy was a cocksucker of greater skill and enthusiasm that I could
have dreamed of, and I ... well, I was blessed with 9 inches and two
beautiful boys to help them have fun.

I'd come gloriously all over Finn. While Andy had my cock in his throat I
heard Finn beg to be finished off. Andy reached out a hand (with me still
deeply attached) and thrashed Finn to his second. The groaning was a
delight to hear. I pulled out: it wasn't fair to keep Andy from his harvest
on Finn, and as Far as I could tell he still hadn't come himself. "Come on,
we'll have half each," he said and moved to Finn's side. Naturally I went
to the other side and, keeping eye contact with each other, Andy and I
licked all that lay on Finn's body. From time to time we stretched over
Finn and shared. "Me too," said Finn, so from time to time one of us shared
with him. All this time Andy's cock was untouched. Hard, bobbing with his
heartbeat, still awaiting release.

When there was no more spunk to be found I leaned over and kissed Andy
again. "How do you want to cum?" I asked. He gave a grin. "With you up my
arse doing whatever you like to my prostate thing."

"Out you get, Finn, it's Andy's turn." I helped him with the loops and he
practically collapsed onto the floor. I helped Andy in. "Do you want it
slow or quick?" "Quick this time. Maybe slow in an hour or two." I smiled,
knowing that I would be happy to oblige once I'd got my balls nice and full
again. So it would be fingers this time.

Quick was something of an understatement, for Andy's balls delivered
themselves of their treasure about five seconds after my three fingers
danced over his prostate. He howled with lustful release.

This time Finn and I shared, making sure that no vestige remained. "I like
this sling, Stewart, can we take it with us?" said a recovering Andy.

Finn helped him out and the two of them embraced, naked and still reeking
of spunk. I put my arms round them both. For the first time since Dab had
died I felt happy. We had new young lives to lead: these two were clearly
in love and ... well, I was beginning to feel that all three of us were
more than just fuck buddies.

"Come on, you two, clothes on and we'll get something to build us up for
another round." Four eyes gleamed. Life wasn't going to be too bad after
all.

A few minutes later there was a faint trumpet sound. "Sh!" I said, "did you
hear it?" Neither of them had, and I couldn't hear it any more. I must have
imagined it. No ... a minute later it happened again, a rhythmic tooting.
The trumpeting happened again, nearer each time. The fourth time it
happened Finn said it was a signal. "It's the same pattern each time,
Stewart. Long blasts and short ones, listen."

Long-short-short, then a pause, then short-long, then another pause, then
long-short-short-short. Over and over again, each time nearer.

"Stay in here both of you, but have a gun handy. I'm going to see who it
is."

 "Wait, Stewart," said Andy, "I know what that is."

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The fun continues in Chapter 3 as we discover the source of the sound, and
our plans change.

Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped
nifty a few quid.
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