The usual disclaimers apply. Don't read this if you are offended by material of a homosexual nature.

This work depicts adult males in sexual situations with underage males. If this offends you do not read this story. All events depicted in this story is purely of a fictional nature and any resemblance to people living or dead is coincidence. If you have enjoyed my story you can contact me at lonewandererlust@hotmail.co.uk I appreciate all feedback and am happy to talk my stories over.

This is just the first part of an ongoing series. My first ever submitted erotic story takes place in a post-apocalyptic Great Britain. We will be following the protagonist as he attempts to find a new place to live after a virus has killed almost every human on Earth. I have already started on part two, so check back in regularly. Thanks, and have fun reading.

Lone Wanderer, Empty World

It was only a matter of time before they turned feral. Without their constant masters they were free to return to the pack ideal, driven by instinct. The danger lay not in the few here and there but in the largest packs which stalked the streets day and night. The smallest of the dogs had either died off or been eaten by the larger, most fittest; the Alsations, Rottweilers, these were the pack leaders. In the six months since the government had officially collapsed I had seen more and more Alsation/Rottweiler cross pups. Very soon they would completely rule the land.

I silently observed a pack hunt down a stray deer from a window of a flat in Soho where I was holed up. The back street was cut off and the deer had no chance. Four floors above ground level I was pretty safe from the predations of the pack but I would have to think about leaving London soon. The packs were growing bigger with each passing week. I couldn't keep risking raids to the small shops nearby. What with the wild dogs and the diminishing food stockpiles, I was running out of time.

After the pack wandered off, I too broke away from the scene and threw myself down on the sumptuous red sofa. I didn't know who this flat had belonged to (I had found nobody inside, no corpse I should say) but whoever they were they must have been fabulously wealthy. Decked out in the latest tech, the kitchen looked like something out of Star Trek, while the bathroom was the size of my own meagre little flat in Barnes. In another life, before the Collapse, this would have been something to dream about. Now though, with the electricity gone and the last of the water in the tank finally running out, this place had lost its grandness.

I picked up the wind up radio I kept nearby at all times and scanned through the bands, hearing only ethereal static and the ghost voices of various emergency broadcast signals. I had heard nothing since January, two months after the Collapse and then it was only people hiding out in what they thought were 'safe zones', places free of the plague that had suddenly and rapidly, all but exterminated humanity. Within weeks, the last enclaves had ceased transmitting, they too having succumbed to the virulent Hyperflu.

Feeling depressed, I turned the radio to speaker mode and plugged in my iPod (only managing to keep that going via a handy solar charger) and whiled away the rest of the day listening to music of dead artists, pondering my next big move.

Having not encountered any other survivors in over three months, I had to face the possibility that I was a man alone in a city once housing ten million. Alone perhaps in the entire country. It was not a comforting thought. The silent city around me, once full of life only served to isolate me further. I had to get away from the bones of London, out into the country where I could watch the trees growing and feel alive again.

I fell asleep listening to 'I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire'.

*

My iPod woke me at six AM and through the night I had decided on my next course of action.

I rooted around in the flat for half an hour before I found car keys. I hadn't yet entered the master bedroom, feeling like an intruder even after everything that had happened and had found what was apparently a spare set of keys in a bedside cabinet. I was caught off guard by movement across the other side of the room, I quickly ducked down beside the bed before, rather sheepishly realising I had seen my reflection in a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I walked over to my image to examine myself more closely.

At twenty six, I was still good looking (at least I thought so), with my good cheekbones lending me a slender, pleasing face. The early morning light picked out my sparkly pale blue eyes my black floppy hair reached almost down to the tip of my perfect button nose. My hair had grown a little too long for my liking, so, while I waited for the early summers sun to rise a little higher in the sky, I took time cutting it back using scissors I found in the kitchen. Taking the last of the water from the flat, I boiled it up using a primer stove and a pot and poured it into a bucket, carried it into the bath and had a strip wash. I dried myself in front of the big mirror in the master bedroom, admiring my slim (but not too skinny) body, athletic legs and well, fairly impressive uncut meat. My cock started to inflate, the blood pumping furiously but I ignored it. I didn't want to waste any more time than was necessary. I had things to do.

After I had eaten a breakfast of the last remaining food in the flat, I brushed my teeth and took one final look at myself in the mirror. I was, tidy, clean and most importantly, prepared for my long exodus. I found a little hair product in the bedroom and worked some into my roughly hewn hair and messed it up a little. Perfect. Even after the Collapse, I couldn't bring myself to go outside without looking good. Old social habits die hard, I suppose.

*

Ten minutes later, I was gingerly creeping down the fire stairwell with a backpack containing the last of my bottled water and a few generic energy bars to keep my going for the day. I had also packed my laptop (I had to many personal things, photos, home movies, music....porn, hey, I'm a guy! To just leave it) my Ipod, the wind up radio and various tools I believed would help with my survival, a big kitchen knife being one of them.

The last time I had left the building, I noticed the underground parking door had been left open. I tiptoed gently, just in case any pack dogs had decided to investigate the building, perhaps having smelled my cooking.

After five or so minutes, I found the underground car park and stooping behind vehicles, found the car I was looking for.

The keys I found in the bedroom had a small tag with the cars license plate number attached, obviously they were dropped into the repair shop whenever the car needed its MOT. This made the job of finding the right one too easy. It was an 05 registration Mercedes G-class, off road. Perfect. I would need that to tackle the leaving and joining of the main roads and motorways to bypass all the dead cars when people were leaving the cities. The owner must have fled to the nearby Guy's Hospital just before the Collapse when it was quicker (not to mention safer) to get around London on foot than by car.

In the gloom of the car park, I opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat. I turned the ignition and wouldn't you know, my luck held, a satisfying rev of the motor and slowly, I pulled out of the darkness and up into the early morning sunshine.

*

A few dogs, here and there chased the car, some mechanism of their fairly recent, domesticated past still operational. But they gave up the chase after a few hundred metres, losing interest in anything not immediately available as food. I drove down Shaftesbury Avenue, onto Piccadilly, passing the Ritz as I slowly cruised past the east side of Hyde Park, watching the trees stir in the cool early summer breeze. I saw wide, blackened craters, I imagined still smouldering, on the edge of the park. A huge rally had been held here, I seemed to remember. In the later days of the outbreak, before the Collapse, thousands of people had gathered, directly opposing government curfew, to march on Downing Street, demanding a solution to the flu. But the government was just as powerless as they. Having gathered in such large numbers, those people had risked spreading the flu faster and, refusing to be hauled off by hazmat teams of police, the Prime Minister had called in an air strike to sterilise the mob. The last of the news stations had said that was the final nail in the governments coffin, after the Prime Minister hanged himself in his office.

I felt the cold fingers of a shiver caress my warm spine. I shuddered and drove on a little faster.

*

Sometime later, I joined the A41 and slipped in and out of back streets, gradually heading north, emerging from the concrete jungle and found myself in the satellite town of Welwyn Garden City just after midday.

I skirted the outer edges of the town, passing ugly sixties architecture before arriving in the heart of the old town with it's quaint cottages and arty little shop fronts. There were very few bodies to be seen, just the odd one or two behind the wheels of stationary vehicles. Everyone had been in such a rush to get to a hospital that the town itself was left fairly intact.

Having not seen a sizeable dog pack for the last hour, I risked a lunch break. I ate only one of the energy bars and sipped carefully on my water. I took care of my remaining supplies, treating them like sacred relics. I got out of the car to stretch my legs for a bit and took a long needed piss against a shop door.

Feeling more confident and with renewed energy, I decided to probe the high street a little before moving on. I took the long (and very sharp) kitchen knife from my backpack and pushed open the door of the shop I had just pissed on.

It was one of those small corner varieties that had been taken over by a large, bland chain supermarket. The stench of rotting fruit and vegetables hit me as soon as I stepped in. I covered my nose and mouth with the sleeve of my free hand but after a minute or so, I had adjusted enough so that I need only wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Truth be told, there was little to use inside. I found three small bottled waters which had rolled away from the chiller cabinet (presumably when people had decided to panic buy and hole up at home at the last minute) and a sizeable amount of sweets. I found a plastic bag and loaded up the few packaged items and looked around for some medicine. Over near the cigarette counter was a pharmacy section but it had been picked almost clean, just over the counter painkillers and condoms left. I did find lube in plenty of abundance though, and I picked up three packs (nothing like masturbation with lube).

Lastly, I raided what was left of the spirits behind the cigarette counter. Three small bottles of vodka, a bottle of gin and a bottle of white rum. I looked at the cigarettes longingly but decided that was not a habit I was ready to take up again any time soon, so I just took a few packs of disposable lighters which might be of some use later on.

I took my haul back to the car and checked out more of the high street. There was nothing of interest. A few pubs, estate agents, a bank. Nothing worth raiding. Just before I turned back, I saw a shop with sports clothes. I walked over to it and noticed that it specialised in school P.E gear. Feeling a little horny I opened the door and went inside.

It was light enough inside but smelled musty. Not an unpleasant smell, more like the smell of a teenage boys room that hadn't been aired in days. My cock twitched. The front part of the shop was mostly football and rugby kits, balls, hockey sticks. I pressed on further. To the back of the shop was a counter, presumably for returns. I swung myself over the side and pulled aside a curtain that separated a smaller room from the rest of the shop. There were laundry bins with returned items of clothing that still had the tags on. I was about to lose interest until I happened to glance at a smaller bin containing something I couldn't at first place.

Jock straps. Now my cock really did spring to life. I rearranged it, before finally acknowledging that there was no way to contain a full hard-on in my pants. I popped the button on my jeans, unzipped and pulled them down past my knees, along with the briefs. My seven and a half inch cock stuck straight out, no curve to it at all, my cock head just briefly peeking out behind my foreskin. I began to rub myself, slowly, teasingly. I rooted around in the jockstrap bin feeling pervy and hornier than I had felt in months. Then I noticed a note pinned to the side of the bin. I pulled it off and read it, unable to believe my heavenly good fortune:

Tracy, the faulty Nike jockstraps for the local secondary school need to be collected

in this bin. The items don't need a sales tag on them as they only started breaking after

two weeks of use. Refund any Nike jockstrap with or without a tag. I know they will

probably have been used so just handle them with gloves if you feel that is necessary.

Put them, used or unused into this bin and seal it up for collection next month. Jack.

'Wow' I said aloud, the first sound I had made all day. I dropped my cock for an instant, letting it recoil and started separating the jockstraps. 'Please let there be at least one that wasn't washed, please' I begged hungrily. I found five without tags. I brought the first one up to my nose but it smelled faintly of washing powder. I tossed it aside without another thought. The next two smelled the same, the fourth smelled like new clothes, so it had evidently never been used, just had the tag removed and put in a drawer perhaps. But the fifth, oh boy, the fifth. I brought it up to my nose and smelled a musty, sweaty odour. The smell of sweaty teenage boy balls pressed up tight for hours on end. I tasted the pouch gently with my tongue and was rewarded with a sweet salty tang. I could see a small whitish stain where this boy, whoever he might have been, had leaked a little something sweet from his cock. This put me over the edge. I lay back among the discarded jockstraps, the used one I breathed through like a mask, as I worked my cock, fist tight, pumping pumping pumping. I felt orgasm coming so I kneeled over the jockstraps and shot my hot white load over them, drinking in the taste and smell of the one I held to my face like a gas mask. 'Yes, YES' I gasped as I milked the rest of my load, plastering the jockstraps on the floor. Eventually the flow subsided, my heart racing, I sat back, looking at the mess I had made, smelling the tang of vigorous cock rubbing fresh in the air as my cock slowly went down. After a few minutes drinking up the atmosphere, I cleaned myself off with some of the discarded clothes and pocketed the used jockstrap.

*

Finding nothing of further use (or sexual fulfilment) in the little town I decided to press onwards and outwards.

At just after three PM, I came upon a smaller village, again looking pretty intact considering the ravages of the Collapse. I still hadn't seen any dogs (or other large possible predators for that matter) and decided that most of them probably congregated in the larger cities, drawn by an abundance of rubbish left in the streets and later on, the bodies. I drove up and down a few of the streets, looking for a house secure enough in which to spend the night. Just because I hadn't seen any packs, it didn't mean there were none.

I stopped the car outside an attractive detached house. There was a car on the drive and space where another had been before all the trouble had began. From the outline where the drive was lighter, I could tell that it had been fairly large, a people carrier most likely. A family house.

Switching off the engine, I left the car in the middle of the road, why move it when there was no one to complain? I made a mental note to look for a hose pipe after I had scouted the house. I would need to siphon a little fuel from the car on the drive and perhaps fill up the spare petrol cannister in the boot. Off roaders used considerably more fuel than the average car and I didn't much fancy being left high and dry on a motorway.

I walked up to the front door, noticing it didn't have a handle, one of those doors that you pull shut with the Yale lock. I pushed it anyway but yes, it was firmly locked. I walked around the right side of the house and saw a back gate. Being reasonably agile and well in shape, I hopped the back gate and explored the garden.

It would have been pretty once upon a time, a suburban housewife's dream. But now the garden was being reclaimed by the relentless forces of nature. The once manicured lawn was already being usurped by saplings, grown half a metre tall already. Ornamental roses had grown awry and dead leaves from last autumn had collected in a big pile at the back of the garden. Dismissing the sight as too unsettling, I turned my attention to the back of the house. The back door leading on to what looked like the kitchen was as thoroughly locked as the front. The windows were a little too elevated to break and climb into. There was however, a pair of flimsy looking French doors leading into a lounge. I took the kitchen knife out of my backpack and tried forcing it through the crack between the doors. It was too tight. Deciding against breaking the doors, for I didn't want an open door through which wild animals might be able to get at me, I instead picked up a large decorative pebble among the flower pots and smashed a window pane next to the lock. I carefully reached inside and, after fumbling with the lock, opened the doors.

The stale air hit me at once, though thankfully I smelled nothing like human decomposition. Rotten food I could take, that, I could not. I quickly explored downstairs. As I suspected, a lounge, dining room, kitchen and integral garage. The height of middle-class living. The kitchen I would raid later but first I checked the upstairs. I opened up windows as I went, finding the main bedroom in an untidy state, clothes dropped on the floor in an apparent haste to pack. I checked another bedroom, all pink and fairies, a young girls room. The bathroom was similar to the main bedroom, a few toiletries lying on the floor in the haste to procure the essentials.

The back bedroom was messy too, but this was a boys mess. Posters of rappers and rock stars plastered the walls, pictures of scantily clad Playboy girls here and there as well. I found a picture among all the boy stuff. A boy, perhaps fourteen and a girl the same age. Must have been his girlfriend. He was cute, slim, athletic as evidenced because he had his top off in the picture. I felt my cock twitch again. Twice in one day. I've found horny boy stuff twice in one day. I smiled, feeling my cock grow a little. I rummaged through the room, pulling out drawers finding some tighty whities which I put aside. I went through his wardrobe finding little of interest. His bedside cabinet was stuffed with PS3 games, nothing horny there. I sat back on his football team bedclothes in disappointment. Then I realised 'the bed, under the bed' I said to myself. It was a single mattress, no big deal for me to lift up. I pushed it off the other side of the bed and looked at my discovery. I found an old t-shit covered in white marks. His wanking rag. Again, I could not believe my damn luck I reached out to grab it before something fell through the rag onto the floor beneath the bed frame. I stretched my hand out and felt around until I had it. It was a USB drive, a fairly recent one, large capacity. 'Bet I know what you kept on here you naughty boy' I said, relishing the fun of finding out. But how could I without power? 'Wait, didn't I see a..' I saw a laptop in the living room on the way in. It's battery may have enough juice left in it for a ten minute wank. I tore downstairs, gently unplugged the laptop and brought it back to the boys room. I wanted to be surrounded by his past teen horniness when I shot my load.

I pushed the power button and for a split second, nothing happened but then the boot screen loaded and within a minute or so, I was ready for action. I checked the battery indicator, two hours it said. Amazing, the laptop must have been fairly new when the Collapse came, fully charged up, it would have lost very little power over six months. I hastily plugged the USB drive in and clicked on it's icon in the 'my computer' window. Disappointment, I found folders marked 'English essays' 'Science reports' 'Spanish', just school stuff. But then I remembered, I used to hide my porn in exactly this way, if anyone were to accidentally find my drive, it would look innocent enough marked as school work.

Working through the folders and sub-folders, I finally clicked on 'Science statistics' and bingo there it was, a folder marked simply with 'x'. I dived in hungrily, seeing a folder marked 'pix' and another 'vids'. I checked out 'pix' first, no more than a hundred in all, mostly guys with girls stuff, a few lesbian pussy eating ones, yuck. I went back and tried the other folder. The videos were labelled, I could tell it was straight stuff, no immediate interest to me. However, at the bottom of the folder was another folder marked 'self'. 'No fucking way' I whispered excited. I clicked on it and found three videos, I double clicked on the first.

I was looking at where I was sitting, the bed with the football sheets. The boy evidently had the laptop on his lap while he laid propped up on his pillows. He was naked but for his tight white briefs showing something hard and straining underneath. I paused the video and stripped down to my own briefs and imitated the boys exact same pose. I resumed it and watched as he teased his cock through his briefs. I was so horny, my underwear was getting wet from precum. Again, I paused the video took my briefs off, and in a moment of genius, found a pair of his white briefs on the floor, I slipped them on, very tight but they went on. I got back into position and watched as he slowly pulled down his pants and released his boy cock, it was pointing down as the briefs slid over and as the waistband left his cock head, his dick sprang up, slapping his tight belly. I pumped my cock furiously not taking my eyes away for a second as he too began to pull on his dick. It looked to be about five inches long, quick thick given his age and like me, uncut. He pulled his foreskin back and forth slowly and then quickly. I was coming close fast so I stopped the video and checked out the second one. This was from another angle, the laptop on the floor, the camera angled up towards the bed. The boy sat on the edge, stroking his hard, fat dick, the look on his face of pure joy. I watched for a minute, unable to take my eyes away but I knew I must look at the last video. I clicked on it and saw him back in his first pose but this time he was speaking.

'God I'm....I'm really horned up. Love pumping my cock, playing with my balls. Mmm fucking love stroking my balls. Some...sometimes I kind of want Ricky to touch my balls when I wank, like last year when we touched each others knobs. That felt really good, wanna do it some more. Wanna suck his knob while he wanks mine. Fuuuuck....oh fuuuuuuuck'. We shot out loads together, my hot creamy mess splattering his sheets in the present while he splattered them and most of himself in the past. We grew soft together and finally he turned his camera off. I smiled weakly, exhausted and fell asleep.

*

I woke up a few hours later, the laptop in hibernation. I woke it up, unmounted the USB drive and turned it right off. No sense in wasting power. I wanted a few more wanks out of that.

Remembering my mental note to find a hose pipe, I looked for one in the garden and found one on one of those hose wheels. I pulled out about two metres worth and with the sharp kitchen knife, I cut through it. Dispensing with the nozzle, I walked back through the house, opened the front door and braced it against shutting with a heavy phone book. On a side table near the door was a small ornamental bowl holding keys. Thanking the maker, I picked up a set of car keys and unlocked the fuel cap on the car on the drive. I filled up my cars petrol cannister, using the hose pipe to siphon it out of the driveway car. Using the cannister, I transferred the petrol until my car showed a full tank. Good thing too, I had been down to a half tank. With the car full, I filled the cannister up once more and loaded that into the back of the offroader.

I checked my watch, quarter to five. I had things to do yet. I went through the kitchen, taking canned goods that were of use and filling a tough reusable groceries bag with what I found. I risked opening the fridge and was sickened by the smell of decay. Inside was a bottle of cola, unopened. I pulled it out and shut the fridge quickly. At least now I had a mixer for my vodka.

The kitchen raided, I kept a few canned goods aside for dinner and breakfast and took the rest and put them by the front door. I combed the rest of the house for loot. I came up with another primer stove from the kitchen, always useful, a box of matches and a wind up torch. All went in the bag with the cans. The one place I hadn't checked was the garage. The side door was near the back gate, I picked up a set of several keys and went back to the gate. I had to try a few keys before finding the right one. It was dark in the garage with no electricity and no windows, so I went back for the wind up torch.

I rifled through what was in there, mostly boxes of junk, old furniture, rarely used DIY tools. I pulled open one big box and out spilled a long, thin wooden case. I picked it up and took it outside. Definitely a sword holder, I pulled the handle and out slid a glistening Samurai sword. It looked like a replica to me so I swung it through a few nearby branches, nothing too big, just enough to cut through. And cut it did. I had never used a sword, but this would suffice in any short range position I may find myself in. I sheathed it and took it back to my car. There was little else in the garage so I shut it and went back into the house, shutting myself in for the night.

*

That evening I ate a meal of canned beans, canned peas and canned fruit. It wasn't so bad once I'd gotten the woodburning fire in the living room going. I took pots from the kitchen and cooked like someone from two centuries earlier. I felt the primitive rise in me and my cock stirred again at the thought of the content on the USB stick. After dinner I took another look at the laptop, this time watching the first two videos all the way as the boy wanked to completion, his milky boy cum spattering all over his tight teen belly. I resumed my previous position on his bed, covering myself in much the same was as he did.

After I'd cleaned myself up, it was getting on for ten PM. I wasn't quite tired yet, so I decided to treat myself to something nice. I managed to tap the houses hot water tank, granted it was long cold by now, but it contained more than enough water. I put the plug in the bath and warmed up enough water over the fire for a good soak.

When I was dried and warm, I set my iPod alarm once more for six AM and fell into the boys bed, pulling the bed clothes over me and drinking in the warm essence of his boyhood.

I fell asleep, the first night of my journey in complete satisfaction.