The literary sites get very snotty about what you can write and what is prohibited making it impossible to be truly free and creative. The commercial porn sites pander only to the wankers and that's ok, but I believe that this will also be the birth place of a new literature. So your encouragement and contributions are needed. If you do this you will be playing a part in supporting the Nifty archive.
This is a improved re-write because the original posting from several years ago is corrupted due to my error. The story is complete and will be posted in 9 parts.
6/9 Please write and comment
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)
The sky was gray and the dreary landscape looked abandoned. There were some people here and there but they were tucked in or hidden out of sight so as not to call attention to themselves. How the world got this way not important other than to say that the collapse resulting a domino effect that dragged everything with it. It had all but ended the upward surge of civilization. The chains that held things together had been broken into pieces.
"You know there is only a few things in life that really count, one is food, one is staying dry and plus, a few other things,"
Spoken by Raif.
Raif was trying to be poetic, he went on to the other two. "It must be love when you love someone so much that you love their spit and their snot and everything about them. How can this not be love?
Newt reached up and hugged him.
All three were naked and all three were erect. The concept of jealousy was absent. The things that Max needed from Newt were different than what he needed from Raif. Newt was secure in that he knew that they both protected and watched over him. And Raif felt a part of a family again and it soothed his depression. The union was somehow firmly balanced and it had its own equilibrium.
Max was bearing down on Newt's back and behind. He was penetrating and preparing for an all out fuck. For Newt it was more than just being used to Max's cock, he trusted Max completely.
Newt's understanding of lust was acute beyond his years and he had always told Max, "You can do anything you want to me,..anything."
Raif preferred not to penetrate anyone. It wasn't his style. He would either kiss Newt of let him suck his cock while Max set upon him from behind. Newt didn't care just as long as he was the center of attention.
Between the three, their congress could get chaotic and reckless and then dissolve into gentle tenderness. Between them, they had a liquid synchronicity and it was something rare in this broken world.
To spill cum on the bare mattress or the floor was a sin because after all, it was sustenance. It was a gift from one to another. Cum was food never to be wasted.
Max was huffing and grunting, delivering his gift up inside of Newt. Raif let go at the same time into Newt's mouth.... It was both beautiful and it was perfect.
It was mid-summer and everything had turned green, lush and warm. Vines and grass hid the half burned houses and the vegetation had creped into the streets and climbed up the old utility poles obscuring the past. Old women were the only ones to have any sense and were out collecting greens to dry for the winter. It was as though the end of the world had finally come and sometimes, things weren't so bad after all.
Raif's nature was basically melancholy but with Max and Newt coming to live in his small room he had undergone a transformation. He had grown to love both of them. They brought out his feminine side and Newt and Max not only accepted it, they needed it. They wanted it and gave purpose to Raif's life. Times had been so cruel and unforgiving that living together was a paradise in comparison. The mattresses had been pushed together and they all slept as one naked and intertwined.
Raif dreamed about his lost family and mourned in his sleep.
Max dreamed about running away and even in his sleep his legs jerked and moved like a sleeping dog on a rug.
With hardly a past, Newt didn't dream about anything. He was content just to be surrounded by Max and Raif.
During the day they were scavengers. They searched empty houses, and wrecked cars. They lifted up things to look underneath for missed placed treasures. They pried open containers and sorted through piles of junk. Looking, looking, always looking for something of value. The things they looked for were things of value that they could take to one of the Vengeance markets to trade for food. During their searches they always were cautious of adversaries. Encounters might cause them to scatter only to reconnect when the danger had passed.
Being killed was a real and daily possibility. Occasionally People got shot, but being stabbed, cut up with a machete or being strangled or clubbed to death was much more common. Mostly, corpses lay where they died and memory of their existence combined with the stink of a rotting corpse obscured the person Soon swarms of flies causes you to blot the memory of who they were or why they died and suddenly you begin to realize the virtue of a burial. It was a rare example of cooperation because it would get so bad that groups would gather to takes the corpses over the hill. It was an awful task avoided by most.
The Food Distribution Center had closed a while back and now everyone was on their own. There was talk about of it re-opening during the winter but no one could be sure. Most people had no idea of what mutual survival and cooperation meant. Thievery was how everyone lived. One old man had shown someone how to find mushrooms and edible wild things and once the word got out, the woods were stripped until nothing was left.
The world was changing. Nowadays if a trader was asked by a person, "Where'd you find this, he was met with shrugged shoulders and vacant silence.
The spontaneous gatherings and markets that began to appear here and there usually on an intersection of foot traffic served many functions. They were organized for the purpose of tribute and pulled into the Vengeance network to be taxed and controlled. Vengeance justified their presence by providing security in the form of thugs who minded the flea market stalls and reported any exceptional occurrences to Vengeance headquarters.
A proud man stood guarding his table of skinned and gutted squirrels, possums and raccoons. He told Newt that the raccoons were really kitty cats. Newt looked at the skinless head with foggy eyes staring lifelessly.
More often than not the three boys got food by providing services and doing chores. The Man and his wife stood in front of a large pot, boiling eggs. They needed more wood for the fire. So did the woman across the way who made a thick soup of forest greens.
The boys pulled boards off of houses that were too far gone to provide shelter. Then lay the board between the ground and something higher and the jump on it to break it into manageable sizes.
The trading markets were organized by the Mothers. They were a handful of old women that when all looked black, they would shrug it off and get busy doing something useful. Most commonly by setting up stew pots.
The soup was never used up so the fire could never go out. Everyday new greens or yesterday's meat, bones and all went into the soup. The Soup Mother was stingy and drove a hard bargain.
She'd say, "Well what'd ya got? Nothin? Well come back when ya got sumthin."
but she never let a child go hungry. Newt had a become a favorite.
She was a big woman that most men would be hard-pressed to tangle with.
She smoked weeds in a hand-made pipe. "Why don't you boys let me take Newt off your hands? You got no business taking care of a child. You got your ownselfs to look after. If there is anything I know, it's raisin children. I raised five of em, sept, world bein what it is, they're all dead now."
Raif thought silently to himself, "No way."
He put his hand on Newt and pulled him along to the next table.
A serious man sat at a bare table. The only thing on it was a paper sign that said, "Meds"
He had no time for the three boys. "If you got someone that needs em, I'll make sure they get delivered for a price. If you don't then fuck off!"
Raif knew something about what he was selling but the other two didn't. He wasn't selling getting high type drugs but he was also selling medicine for diseases or infections. It was a high priced serious business that made any pills or prescriptions very valuable trade items.
He looked at the three boys. "You find any medicine's, pills or alcohol, You bring'em to me and I'll be sure to pay you good."
What took skill in the market was knowing what this person wanted and what that person wanted and earning something in the middle. Being clever was not only survival it was a virtue. Because of this, most of the trading didn't take place on the tables or out in the open. It took place between pockets and negotiated in whispers. gold and silver transactions, contracts for use of assets, transportation or services and even kidnapping and murder.
Many people were just on the road looking for a place to survive, but others carried out these endeavors by traveling from one market to another always looking for opportunity or advantage.
Cranky and erasable, it was the mother's that kept things together. When gangs of men swept through vandalizing and killing, It was the old mothers that stoically and began to put things back together and start again.
6/9 Please write and comment
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)