Date: Wed, 16 Jun 2021 21:44:43 +0000 From: Adam Private Subject: The Man, The Youth, and The Boy/chapter 2 THE MAN, THE YOUTH, AND THE BOY By Adam Private So that we continue to have a forum to share our stories, please consider a donation to the nifty archive: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Disclaimer: This story is pure fantasy, created for adult consumption only. Comments/feedback to: adamprivate14@hotmail.com CHAPTER TWO May 2025: The Escape Told by the Man Note: This chapter takes place roughly five months BEFORE the events of chapter one. ##### There isn't a dignified way to cop to this part of the story, so I'm gonna just rip off the bandaid. Here I am, roughly six hours after I get the news about arma-fucking-geddon, and what am I doing? I'm having a mutual jack off session with a horny 13-year-old in the cab of my autopiloted pick-up truck as we hightail it towards a mountain hideout. I mean, what the fuck, right? While it's true that my young stroke buddy took the initiative, there's no excuse for me going along. I admit I've long gotten boners for athletic adolescents, but I sure as hell never actually messed with any. It ain't right, and I know it. Sure, I'll indulge my taste for youth by bedding a sweet-assed college jock every now and then.....but that's always been the limit of my real-time depravity. The only thing I can say is, when mortality is staring you hard in the face, things just seem to happen. At this moment I'm so damned turned on by this uninhibited young buck that I quite obviously can't think straight. His name, by the way, is Lucas. And, as he explained earnestly, when I commented on his precociousness, his 14th birthday is only a few weeks away. "I always get treated like a kid," he complained, his hand firmly wrapped around my throbbing root, "but my cock makes me feel like a man." My hand -- sticky with precum from handling his rigid organ -- had to agree. He was a fine specimen of virility at any age. Lucas' insistence on his own maturity, of course, had the effective of making me feel rather old by contrast. Although I still tend to think of myself as perpetually 20-something, I'm actually 38. And that makes me roughly the same age as this kid's father. ##### I should explain that Lucas and his dad Ryan have been neighbors of mine for five years, since I fled the 2020 pandemic by trading in my trendy Castro condo for an oddball '70s-built California modern in rural Mendocino county. The duo resides -- or did until today -- on an old pear farm directly across the still unpaved local access road from my property. While Antonio and I had developed a neighborly relationship with the two -- along with an assortment of Ryan's girlfriends and other hangers-on who had come and gone from his commune-like farm -- it was all pretty superficial. Given the acreage of the surrounding properties and the deep set-back of my house from the road, the truth is we didn't encounter any of our neighbors very often. Not that I didn't take notice of Ryan, who had this pretty sexy hippie farmer vibe happening. And yeah, I confess I had taken notice of Lucas as well, especially in the last year or so, when I'd had a few opportunities to notice how well he was filling out his JV baseball uniform, or maybe when I caught sight of him playing hoops shirtless with a buddy in the rutted road leading to his dilapidated farmhouse. Yes, I know.....I'm a perv. But, damnit, there's no crime in looking, right? Antonio, of course, who noticed everything, caught on to my attraction one day last fall when we happened to arrive home at a perfect time for a nice shirtless Lucas sighting. He chided me pretty relentlessly for it, and I let him have his fun. When Antonio didn't know was I was biding my time; I got my revenge that night by fucking him extra hard, and, as I climaxed, crying out "Yes! Yes! Lucas, take my hot seed!" Sometimes I crack myself up. Antonio, however, was not amused, and informed me I'd be going to hell. ##### This story really begins shortly before noon on the day of the escape. I was in my home office on one of those endless zoom calls when I felt my phone vibrate and I glanced down to see Antonio's name on the screen. It had been nearly six months since he'd moved out, and probably two months since we'd talked. I considered letting the call go to voicemail, but instead I suspended the zoom connection and picked up. "Hey." "Adam." His voice was subdued, but urgent, and the familiar accent provided the catalyst for me to conjure his handsome Argentinian face. "Are you home?" "Yes....what's wrong?" "It's happening. You need to get out. Load up the truck and head to the cabin." "Antonio, what the fuck?" "We don't have much time. You know what I'm talking about. It's a worst-case scenario, exactly what I told you would happen eventually with a Nipah variant. It hit LA this morning and it's hopping to other cities as fast as planes land. It's in the Bay Area already. All air travel is being grounded, but it's too late." His voice was deadly serious, and I knew him well enough to understand that he was to be taken seriously when it came to virus knowledge, and also that his job position gave him access to pandemic news before it hit the airwaves. I struggled to respond. "I....this is crazy. I can't just up and abandon everything." "Adam, by tomorrow there'll be nothing to abandon. Listen, how much gas is in the truck?" "About a half tank, I think." "There should be at least three full 5-gallon cans in the garage. It'll be close, but just as well you didn't buy an electric truck -- you can't risk stopping at a charging station." "Jesus, Antonio, this is insane." I paused, then had a thought: "Why don't you head here, and we'll drive up together? I can get everything ready." "I'm toast, Adam. If I'm not exposed yet, I will be before I even make it to the parking lot. I'm going to try to isolate in the lab, but frankly it's a lost cause." I was stunned. "Well, you've got to at least--" He cut me off. "Look, there's no time for debate. I went up two weeks ago and laid in more supplies, but there's still lots of holes. Bring the guns, but only for emergency self-defense -- too risky for hunting, at least at first. Take plenty of clothes -- all seasons, OK? And blankets and sleeping bags......um, are you with me? Do you need to write this down?" I suddenly felt panicky. I stopped arguing and starting taking mental notes. He continued. "Grab the big toolbox. And all the rope and twine. And all the knives you can find. There's plenty of cookware up there, but you better take everything on the camping gear shelf. And the first aid kit in the kitchen. You getting this?" "Yeah, you're just really freaking me out." "Adam, you gotta focus. Box up all the non-perishables you can find. What else? Oh, between the garage and the shed, there's probably 10 bags of wood pellets." "Um.....right." I had progressed from panicky to numb. Antonio continued: "You should have several hours before the exposure makes its way up to Philo. When you hit the road, keep the windows up and the cabin air on recirculate. Stay away from everyone, and use a tight N95 if you need to get out to add gas, even if you think you are alone. Don't take 80 through Sacramento, it's too busy. Head up through Modoc and take 395 into Oregon and 20 into Idaho. Tell your GPS to bypass Boise, but you'll need to wing it if GPS fails." "Antonio, if it's this bad, won't they be stopping traffic?" "There'll be a shelter-in-place order issued any minute now, but they won't be able to enforce it once they realize that survival depends on isolation. Most law enforcement will give up their posts within hours and head home in a futile attempt to protect their families. Those that stay may monitor things, but they won't interfere with movement." "OK, but.....you've got to get out too, babe." "That's not gonna...." he stopped and paused, then started again, his voice hushed. "Listen, I'll try to meet you there, once it's safe." But he was bullshitting, and we both knew it. He went on: "I'm sorry about what happened with us. I love you.....I gotta go, I gotta try to reach my mom before the international satellites go haywire." "I.....fuck, man. I love you too." And that was it. We knew we had just said goodbye. And that most likely we'd both be dead in 48 hours. ##### An hour later I was running around in circles trying to keep a clear head as I loaded up the truck's cargo bed. After tossing in another 40-lb bag of pellets, I looked out the open garage door and my heart stopped. About 50 feet away, Lucas and a younger boy were walking purposefully up the drive in my direction, with Ryan's aging hunting dog in tow. "Stop!" I shouted. "Lucas, you need to go home, now!" My stern voice caused the trio to halt in their tracks, but they did not retreat. Lucas' face was set and determined; the younger boy looked ashen; as if he might burst into tears, and he appeared attached to Lucas at the hip. It would not be appropriate for me to mention that this new boy, who was perhaps 10 or 11 years of age, was strikingly handsome, with eyes as wide as saucers and a head full of soft black curls. So......I won't mention it. After a moment, Lucas spoke: "Adam, we've been completely alone for two days, we're safe." Then he looked me directly in the eye and added: "You have to take us with you." "Lucas, I can't do that. Where's your dad?" "He's been in New Mexico for a week. He had to take a job there. He just called and told us to come here. He said Antonio would know what to do.....that you had a place to go." "Antonio isn't here. He moved out months ago." Lucas looked alarmed, but after a moment of thought, continued: "But.....you talked to him. And you have a place to go." Impressively, these were statements, not questions. Lucas was a pretty shrewd kid. "Still, I can't just.....and who is your friend?" "This is Caleb. He's my....well, kind of like my stepbrother. His mom, she had to leave a while ago, she was sick. I've been watching out for him. He's OK.....won't be any trouble. Adam, we can help you. You...you need us." While I processed that I continued to think aloud. "And that dog will be another mouth to feed." "He's a great retriever, he'll earn his keep." Again, a statement -- not a plea. So, what was I to do? The youth had made a number of compelling points. I couldn't just abandon this hapless trio. And if I left on my own, what exactly was I expecting as an outcome, anyway? Even if I succeeded in surviving initially, wasn't I just sentencing myself to a slow death in isolation? Lucas continued to look me dead in the eye, steely determination evident throughout his facial expression and body language. This boy was no wallflower. I felt a pang of.....what? Admiration? I'm not sure -- can mere admiration cause a cock to suddenly stir in one's pants? I took a long, slow breath. "OK." I had made my decision. "Listen up. We have 30 minutes. First, do you have any gasoline?" "Yeah, in the barn.....maybe 10 gallons." "Great, we may really need that." I paused for a moment and then determined I needed to channel Antonio with some organizational directives: "You also need to pack clothes, including winter clothes -- this may be a long trip. If you have backpacks, use em to pack with. Gather blankets and sleeping bags. Also any kerosene lamps and fuel, flashlights, batteries, lighters, candles, matches....you get the idea?" "Yeah, we got it." "You have any guns?" "I got a .22 rifle. My dad's guns are in his safe. He was going to give me the combo but our call dropped." "It's OK, just get your rifle and ammo. And any hunting gear, and knives. Also, throw anything we might eat on the trip in one bag. Then box up any canned foods. Bring everything out to the drive and I'll pick you up in 30 minutes." "Adam, should I bring our hens? We got three good egg producers, and a horny old rooster if we need more chicks later. I have a crate I can put 'em in." "That's a good idea, Lucas. Now get going." He hesitated a moment, and once more leveled his narrowed eyes at me. "You're not planning to ditch us, are you, Adam?" I managed a slight smile. "No, I won't ditch you, Lucas. You were right. We're going to need each other." ##### Dusk was descending as my fellow refugees and I pushed ahead on US 395, in southern Oregon, having crossed over from the California border about 15 minutes earlier. Antonio had been right -- as usual. We had encountered no blockades, or even any attempts to impede or redirect traffic, and the road was now deserted. Back at the border, a lone Oregon state patrol car, lights flashing, sat idle on the shoulder, and the trooper and I had simply eyeballed each other warily from behind our tightly shut windows as my pick-up rolled cautiously past. It was clear virtually everyone was following the shelter-in-place orders; the few who were venturing out had gotten enough information to understand isolation from others was essential. The roads had been eerily empty the whole drive, and I now realized we had not encountered another vehicle going in either direction since we passed the cruiser at least 20 miles back. I wasn't sure how many of my autopilot features might fail along with the inevitable loss of the GPS system, and I had the cruise override set at a reasonable 80 mph. That pace should get us into Idaho and around Boise by a little after midnight, and then, at a slower speed, up to Grimes Pass about 90 minutes later. From there, it would be a test of how well I would remember the final turns, especially at night, as we approached the hidden trailhead. Thanks once more to Antonio, an annotated topographical map of the western Sawtooth foothills lay at the ready in the glove compartment. Although I had made the decision some time ago not to commit to the survivalist plan that consumed Antonio, I still trusted him completely. I was certain our lives depended on complete isolation from our own species, at least until the virus had run its course and any survivor colonies had been established. Virtually everyone would be exposed within days, if not hours. Sadly, it appeared that while my two young companions and I could potentially reap the benefits of Antonio's planning, the actual plan architect would not. My mind was racing as I struggled to get my head around this apocalyptic reality and fully enter survival mode. At the same time, I'm wondering why I didn't seem to be processing grief over who and what I was forever losing, but frankly, I mostly felt numb to it all. Maybe I was in shock....or maybe I really was the emotionally stunted SOB that Antonio -- and others before him -- have accused me of being. In the back seat of the cab, the striking green-eyed boy Caleb and the greying Black-Mouth Cur were asleep in an exhausted heap. Up in the front seat, I've been keeping company with Lucas. On the drive up through northern California, he's been filling me in about his family. His mom died of cancer when he was two. It sounded like his dad was a good-hearted guy, if maybe a little loose with his parenting philosophy, and he was definitely of the free-love persuasion. He didn't believe in monogamy and was often involved with multiple women at the same time; occasionally -- as Lucas pointed out with a sly grin -- at the same moment. One of his most recent lady companions had been Caleb's mom, who turned out to be a trainwreck of an alcoholic. Ryan demanded she clean up her act for Caleb's sake. When she couldn't, he told her to leave and come back for the boy when she got sober. She took the offer. That was nearly two months ago, and she hadn't been heard from since. Lucas also confirmed that the pear farm operation, as I had long suspected, was for the most part a front for the more lucrative cannabis crop hidden well back from the road. Well, at least it had been lucrative, until legalization and licensing bureaucracy had stacked the deck against the small entrepreneur. Ryan's livelihood was now in serious trouble, and he had recently taken a few freelance gigs educating newbie growers on cultivation techniques. This meant he'd been leaving Lucas on his own, sometimes for a week or more at a time, with the added wrinkle in the current instance that the younger boy had been left in his care as well. "That sounds kinda tough, Lucas." "It's cool," he replied. "He's no trouble, you'll see." "I'm not worried about him being trouble, I just think that's a lot of responsibility for a 13-year-old." "I don't mind, I know how to take care of stuff." "I believe you do. I was impressed with how you handled me earlier today." "What do you mean, handled you?" "You knew taking no for an answer was not an option. Not many kids are that assertive." "I'm not really a kid anymore." "Sorry. Not many young men are that assertive." There was a pause as Lucas and I were busy with our thoughts. Then he spoke again, with some hesitation. "Why did Antonio leave?" "Well, we split up. It happens, I guess." "Ha! I know -- my dad splits up all the time. But you had been together for a long time, huh?" "Over three years. For me, that's a record." Lucas started to speak and then stopped, and when I looked over his face appeared flushed. "What's on your mind?" "Um, can I ask you some things?" "Sure." "Do you....um, only like guys?" I smiled. "Yeah. The last time I had a girlfriend was when I was a sophomore in high school. I wasn't much older than you are now when I figured things out." "Well," he replied, "I think I'm mostly into pussy like my dad." "That's cool, Lucas." "Can I tell you something?" "The answer is still yes. You can ask or tell me anything you want." "Cool.....so there was this chick named Amanda who was hooking up with my dad a few weeks ago." "OK." "Well....I fucked her." He sounded both a little proud and a little sheepish at the same time. "My dad never knew. No one knows." "I see. How old is Amanda?" "I dunno. Maybe twenty-five." "Hmmmm. So, was it good for you?" "Yeah!" He brightened. "I mean, she was really hot! But it was a little weird, too." "I can understand that. Let me ask you. Of the two of you, who would you say really got that party started?" "Well, like I say, she was hot. I guess she saw me checking out her titties." "OK, but then, she took the next step?" "Well, yeah....when my dad was gone one day she wanted me to show her this secluded place in the orchard and, well, she got pretty wild. She wanted me to fuck her really hard, and she talked really dirty! She....she told me she liked young cock deep up her cunt, and that I made her all wet. I think....I think maybe I was the reason she hooked up with my dad." "Wow. That's pretty crazy, Lucas. I gotta tell you I think Amanda sounds like kind of a nutcase. I know, you're not a kid anymore, but an adult just doesn't do that kind of thing with someone your age." "Well, I can handle myself. She didn't hurt me or nothing." "I guess that's for you to say." "The thing is, I really dig sex." He took a breath and continued: "I've also been jacking off some with my buddy Zach, and that's pretty hot too." I gulped a little. I think I knew who Zach was, and my cock, which was already on the move thanks to the Amanda story, was nearly in full *BOING* mode at this point. "We'll, that's cool, Lucas -- guys do that kinda stuff, especially guys your age. I had a stroke buddy in eighth grade, too. And, by the way, he turned out to be straight as an arrow." Then I asked, "Is Zach the guy you shoot hoops with sometimes?" "Yeah. You notice that?" I gulped harder. "Um, well, yeah....I've noticed." Lucas smiled. "Zach kind of wants to do more than jack off, but I'm not really sure about sucking cock." It took a moment for me to come up with a response to that. "I guess it's all about what makes you feel good. People seem to get their panties all in a twist about sex stuff, but we are sexual beings. I think as long as you're not being pressured to do anything, you can just figure out what you like as you go along." "That's pretty much what my dad says. But then, why do you say Amanda was a nutcase?" "Well, she went awfully fast with someone with no experience and.....I mean, what she did was illegal." Lucas paused. "How my dad makes a living is illegal, but I don't think it's wrong." "OK, I take your point. But it also sounds like she only thought about what she wanted....right?" There was a pause as Lucas considered that, before speaking again. "I got a little turned on last week when Zach and I were playing ball as you drove by. I wondered if you were, um, checking us out....if maybe seeing us....you know, got you hard." Huge gulp. "Um, Lucas, I....." Now I was the one who was blushing -- not a sensation with which I'm familiar. And while I'm almost never speechless, this was clearly the rare exception. Another long pause. "Adam, I'm really horny." Oh, HE was really horny, huh? I was desperate to rearrange my goods from their pent-up position in my jeans, but feared giving away the full extent of my condition by doing so. "Lucas, I'm not sure this is the time...." "I just want to help you out.....make you feel good, like you said it was all about. You saved our asses today." He looked me directly in the eye again, as if he knew how that affected me. "Can I take your cock out, Adam?" Holy fuck. My mind was reeling, but resistance was a lost cause now, and I knew it. I've never in my life come so close to nutting in my pants without even touching myself. I took almost a full minute to ponder, as he waited for an answer. Then I drew a deep breath, unbuckled my seat belt and leaned back, reclining my seat enough to fully expose my massive bulge to Lucas' view. "OK, kid -- um, sorry -- OK, Lucas. I'm all yours, buddy." Before I knew what was happening, our skivvies were down around our ankles and we were firmly grasping each other's precum-dripping erections. Not to brag.....I've seen guys who are longer than me, but rarely guys who are thicker, and I've not shy about self-admiration of my heavy set of nuts. Lucas was definitely impressed. "Wow, Adam, you got a really big one -- I kinda knew you would. I've never touched a cut dude before. Well, I've only ever touched Zach and myself." I was equally impressed. Lucas told me he had first started knocking out live ammo about a year ago, when he was still 12. Right now he was sporting a ramrod straight uncut cock with a nearly full hood, nice and meaty, about 6 inches, and I'm sure he's nowhere done growing. And the thing is, his shaft felt like STEEL, it was so rigid. I also noticed the little devil had started neatly trimming his pubes, which I gotta say looked hot. My buds and I would never have had the nerve to do that when we were his age, but I guess it's pretty common now by the time boys get to high school. And damn! I knew from my farm drive-bys that Lucas had a luscious, tight jockboy body, but after we both peeled off our t-shirts to get even more comfortable and I got an up-close look at his biceps, chest, and abs, I was afraid I might start drooling like an imbecile. It was as if the pent-up energy from all those years of secretly admiring testosterone-drenched adolescents was washing over me like a fucking fever. I mean, for me, it's always been about the expression of masculinity. I'm a flexible guy: At the other end of the spectrum, I can get turned on by 50- something daddy types if they project the right vibe. But that same aura of virility expressed in puberty? Fuck yeah! I guess maybe it's the forbidden-fruit aspect that puts me over the edge. "Lucas, you really got me going. You better let up with that hand or I'm gonna explode." "Adam, do you want me to take it in my mouth?" "I don't want you to do anything you aren't ready to do. You just said sucking cock would be weird. You don't have to be in any rush." "Yeah, but I'll try, if it would get you off good." Get me off good, he says? Oh, the things that could get me off good! The places I would lick, the sweet lips I would kiss, the ripe boy pits I would sniff, the orifices I would probe, the teen-loads I would swallow, the deposits I would make! Oh, Lucas my boy, could I ever get off good! But not on this night. My young friend may insist he's a man, but I know he's still a boy. One pleasure at a time. If this is the path we are taking, there will be plenty of opportunities to mentor this remarkable specimen of youth in all the many pleasures of male bonding. So I decided to try a different tack. "What would get YOU off good, Lucas?" He didn't hesitate, "I wanna see you shoot your load. I bet you cum way more than Zach." "Ummmm, damn, Lucas.....you're about to find out. How 'bout we pump out some man nut together? The youth's eyes seemed almost to twinkle at the suggestion. "You wanna watch me too, Adam? The other day I spurted my first cum shot five feet!" Grinning broadly, he added: "I know 'cause I measured!" Oh, bloody hell. This lad is just freakin' adorable. I'm getting a goddamn crush on a 13-year-old. For shame, Adam, for shame. Well, we got on with the business of pleasuring our cocks together. I took a little time demonstrating how good it feels to cup a palm under your buddy's nuts, how to vary stroke grip and pressure, and how even the tip of a single finger strategically applied could heighten pleasure when alternated with more full-fisted action. It took some self control not to expand my explorations to other areas of his succulent body, but I sensed he was more at ease initially with a focus on the penis. There was no way either of us would hold out very long, and clever Lucas made the suggestion we attempt to shoot our wads simultaneously -- and I added my own proposal that we attempt to use our own faces for target practice. I liked this option more than the alternative of bathing the dashboard with sticky splats of spooge. I let Lucas know I was close enough to synchronize with his cue. And then to send him over the edge, I growled that he was one sexy motherfucker and that I wanted -- nay, needed! -- to see him geyser his sweet man load. Well, that did it. His breathing got heavy and his hips pivoted upward from the car seat. "Yeah, that's it, buddy, let that nut fly in three.....two....." "Fuckkkkkk, Adam, I'm coming! I was right with him. And if I do say so myself, we put on a spectacular display. But a display for whom, exactly? A nanosecond following our simultaneous eruptions, a commotion emanated from the back seat of the cab, comprised first of a startled gasp, followed immediately by what can only be described as a squeal of delight from our 11-year old travel companion and unexpected witness. I shot a mortified look into the rear view mirror and was greeted with a return look of shock and wonderment from Caleb's luminous green eyes. Oh my God -- those eyes! Yet again, Antonio was right: I AM going to hell. ##### My memory of the final turns was better than I expected, but it was still after two in the morning when the pick-up's headlights finally shone on the roadside boulder which marked a dozen paces south of the well-camouflaged trailhead. Lucas and I had to make some effort to get the truck through the opening and then restore the log-and-brush screen behind us. In 4-wheel drive mode, we were able to slowly work our way a good half-mile down the ever-narrowing path. This would be the literal and figurative end of the road for the truck, where we would snooze until first light. With the dawning of the new day would begin the job of ferrying our supplies another two miles in multiple treks on foot though mixed terrain to the site of our new homestead. END OF CHAPTER TWO Comments welcome: adamprivate14@hotmail.com Should I write the next installment?