Chapter 1: Introduction
The world's turned to shit, something akin to the end of days, and I, Jamie, grunting behemoth-of-a-man with long legs and a cascade of short black hair, found myself aimlessly wandering an abandoned city. Cars littered the streets like a never-ending sea of steel giants, their engines cold, their promises unfulfilled. Buildings lay in a heap, remnants of lives once lived, ghostly echoes of laughter and sorrow. I am a Himlite. Himlites are people who are naked and crawl around with a blindfold, hoping some strong man will come up behind them and fuck him. It's supposed to be a good time, at least that's what I've heard. That's what I was hoping for anyway, wandering around this post-apocalyptic wasteland, smearing red lipstick along my thighs, bottom, and ass.
A shadow stretched out before me, and I squinted up against the scorching sun as a figure approached. I held still – in this world, you don't know who to trust. Someone suddenly grabbed my hips and fucked me from behind, his thrusts rough and urgent, like he didn’t have time for preliminaries.
“Who—?” I started to say, but he covered my mouth with a big, strong hand, stifling any further questions. Instead, I let myself get lost in the sensation, feeling his hunger, his need for release. As I pushed back against him, the slap of his body against mine became the only rhythm left in this godforsaken place.
When we were done, he slowly pulled out, and a cool breeze nipped at my raw skin.
The stranger let go of my hips, and now the vulnerability of the situation seeped through me, as I was still blindfolded and couldn't see what would come next. An unfamiliar voice rumbled from above, a voice I'd later come to know as Tyrone's.
“You're mine now, Himlite. Your body's been claimed.*"* He pulled off my blindfold, and I saw him for the first time.
Tyrone was a mountain of a man, ebony muscles stretching out under the sun. A faint smile tugged at his lips as his dark eyes seemed to devour me. I felt his still aroused dick, moist from our connection, press against my backside. His other hand trailed down my chest to my erect nipples, working and plucking them gently.
I exhaled swiftly, letting my head hang back onto his shoulder. I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted this. How my body ached for this.
“Tyrone?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer to know who he was. His big hands took possession of me, and the rumble of his voice against my ear sent hot shivers up and down my spine.
“Yeah, baby. It’s me. Tyrone.
The one who claimed me as his own and left his mark on me in more ways than one. His calloused, long fingers danced around my nipples, and I couldn't help but tremble and gasp at his every touch.
“Y-yes, Tyrone,” I stuttered, relishing his closeness, the warmth radiating from his body despite the unforgiving sun above. I'd been wandering aimlessly, searching for a sense of purpose in this vacant world—and now I had a goal worth pursuing. I looked around and saw other Himlites walking around the wasteland, and I knew I wasn't alone. I just needed to find the one who would give meaning to my existence.
Tyrone spun me around and roughly pulled me towards his lips. Our bodies collided, muscles rippling together as he claimed my mouth almost as fiercely as the first time he had taken me. My entire body buzzed with adrenaline, need, and an ache that only Tyrone could, and would, quench.
"Tyrone," I whispered his name again.
His grip around my waist tightened, and he deepened our kiss, probing past my lips. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my toes curled in the dusty soil beneath us. I slid my hands up his sweaty back, kneading the dense muscles there.
Finally, we broke apart, our chests heaving as we gasped for air, our foreheads pressed together while we caught our breath.
"You good, Jamie?" His gravelly voice so close to me filled my ears and sent vibrations across my skin.
I shivered involuntarily, my breath hitching as I inhaled his musky aroma.
"Yes, Tyrone," I murmured, trying to steady my breathing and sound as composed as possible. The effects of his mere presence rendered me speechless, my thoughts scrambled.
Taking in a deep breath, I gathered my wits and asked, "What happens now?"
His mischievous grin sent a spark through me as he replied, "Just follow me."
He led me away from that barren street, toward a slightly more inhabited block.
We moved passed himlites that were paired up with men, clusters of threes and fours, moving to empty buildings. As we shuffled amongst them, whispers floated in the air, a chorus of moans and gasps echoed as background music. It seemed as if the chaos of the outside had been contained with the confines of this city.
I felt oddly comfortable stepping into the wasteland’s new rhythm of life with Tyrone. He was my rock, my shelter during an unexpected storm.
Tyrone had claimed me, and I found solace in the protection he offered amidst the ruins. With each passing day, I clung tighter to the memories of his touch, his warmth that dissolved into my cold, damp body like a winter sun.
As we ventured deeper into the city, I began to notice subtle differences between the other Himlites and me. The others were malnourished, pale, their eyes hollow. But I was different. I was well-fed, my body strong, healthy. I felt it was all thanks to Tyrone's care.
With him, I had access to water, food, and a safe space when the other Himlites didn't. We lived amongst the ruins, but we, as Tyrone's Himlites, had carte blanche to explore whatever buildings and deserted corners of the city remained. Occasionally venturing further into the wasteland to search for supplies, but mainly spending our days foraging for food scraps and indulging ourselves in heated, sweaty moments of pleasure with Tyrone, who took care of me like a lion guards his pride.
Under Tyrone's watchful eye, I explored the boundaries of my own body and desires. In a time when the luxuries of trust no longer existed, I discovered the most profound intimacy in a simple, trusting touch between two survivors in the apocalyptic abyss.
After one such exhilarating coupling, our bodies tangled together amid scattered ruins and red lipstick smears against brick walls, we lay in a pool of heated sweat and laughter.
Tyrone's fingertips traced lazy patterns along my chest and stomach.
I shivered involuntarily under his touch, my eyes closed and back arching with each sweep of his hand.
"I'll always take care of you," Tyrone murmured. His rich, smooth voice sent ripples of sensation up and down my spine. I nodded weakly, unable to verbalize my appreciation properly. In a strange way, I had found happiness in the wasteland—a life that resembled something close to love.
Before long, Tyrone's hand stilled, and his arm lay limp across my stomach.