The End of the World by Hankster

The End of the World

by: Hankster

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I never go to see disaster movies, monster movies, end of the world movies, or any films of that ilk. You see, even though I am almost a senior citizen, I act like a kid when I see these films. That is, I have nightmares for weeks and I can’t sleep. Something inside of me believes that the disastrous event depicted fictionally on the screen, has a distinct possibility of coming true, even though my intellect tells me that it’s hogwash. Rational or not, at least I save the cost of admission, and I can put the money to better use.

Before I tell you my story, let me tell you something about me, so that you can digest what I tell you within the context of my background. Having said that, I can promise you that my story will be all the more surprising than if my history remained unknown to you. A good deal of what I will relate would be considered sinful by many people, but please don’t make judgments. As Hamlet’s father’s ghost instructed the young prince, these matters should be left to heaven. I have always maintained that Will Shakespeare knew everything. He was the wisest man who ever lived. His muse must have been God himself.

So here goes. I am now fifty-five years old. My wife died of ovarian cancer just three years ago, before the bad things began to happen. I live in Georgia, but my son lives in Los Angeles, where he is a pulmonary physician, and my daughter lives with her family in New Haven, where her husband teaches physics at Yale. I say, they live, but their survival is highly unlikely at this time. More of that later. I am writing about me.

I am a Baptist minister. I began my ministry at the age of twenty-five, right out of seminary. My church is located in Atlanta and I have been there the entire thirty years of my ministry. Why did I say my church is located…? Most likely, it no longer exists.

I was married by our senior minister on the first weekend of my ministry. I didn’t want to take a honeymoon, but Reverend Daley insisted. We made it short and sweet and returned for services the following Sunday. My son Daniel was conceived on our honeymoon.

I guess you could call me a rather liberal Baptist. I despise discrimination on any basis; religion, race, gender, and even sexual orientation. As I told you before, I firmly adhere to the admonition to leave all these judgments to heaven.

This is no time for humility, so let me be frank. I have always been very handsome and I could have been quite the lady killer, but the deep love I had for my wife would not permit me to cheat. Now I am too frail and too gaunt to be considered handsome anymore. My blond hair is now peppered with gray, and my shining blue eyes have lost their luster over the years. I stand six feet tall and even when things were ‘normal’ I had no excess fat. I was always lean, maybe even a little on the skinny side.

My wife and I raised our two kids to stand on their own, and when the time came, they did. Before we knew it, they left our cozy home, and Nancy and I were empty nesters for about five years. Then she began to feel tired, and she began to lose weight for no apparent reason. She died a mere six months after her diagnosis. I was devastated, and immersed myself in my work.

By this time I was the senior pastor at my church, and I had a young assistant who was just out of seminary. He reminded me so much of me when I first came to the church. He was infinitely more handsome than I, and many of the mothers in my flock were not shy about wanting me to ‘fix up’ their daughters with him. To my credit, I never tried. If Paul was interested, he could act on his own. I was not aware that he ever dated, but he spent many evenings with a friend of his from seminary days. His friend George was the assistant pastor at a church clear across town.

Paul and I had a good working relationship. Most ministers in my position would be reluctant to let go, and would probably not assign more duties to their assistant, but not I. I was happy to allow Paul to do whatever he wanted to do. I still had trouble concentrating on my work after the loss of my wife, and I was happy to lean on his shoulder. In fact, Paul had rented a small room in a boarding house very near to the church. My house was large and very empty, and I asked Paul if he would like to occupy my son’s old room. He hesitated for a few days before giving me an answer, and before he did, he asked me, “Do you think it would be proper for two single men to live together?” I should have known what he was referring to, but things like that never crossed my mind. I have already told you that. Without even realizing what he meant, I answered.

“Nonsense. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He accepted the offer and moved in with me. I was delighted to have his company. His friend George even came to dinner quite often, but when they went out for the evening together, I found myself strangely lonely and jealous. It made me realize that I didn’t have a close friend to hang out with. I sort of made a resolution to alter that situation.

Paul had been living with me a little over two years, when we first began to notice that something was wrong. Well, I shouldn’t say something was wrong, rather, something wasn’t quite right. We were three or four weeks shy of the Thanksgiving Holiday service and Paul and I decided to come up with a surprise for the congregation.

“Let’s do something they would never expect, but which they will remember for a long time,” he said.

I had stopped being innovative a long time ago, so I said, “I’ll leave that to you, young man. Come up with something that will knock them out.”

“I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll bounce it off you if I get an affirmative answer from a friend of mine.”

Several days passed. At dinner that night, Paul was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t know if you will approve of this,” he started to say, “but here goes! I have a friend who sings baritone with the gay men’s chorus. Within that organization, he belongs to a four man harmony group who sing accappella. They entertain in hospitals, nursing homes, nursery schools and so on. I asked them to sing hymns of thanksgiving at our service, dressed as pilgrims. What do you think?”

I was stunned. I didn’t mind a bit that these men would sing for us. What stunned me was that Paul had a friend who was gay. I hesitated too long, and Paul said, “Well, it was just an idea.”

“And a good one,” I replied. “I approve, of course.”

I decided to be honest with Paul. “I was just taken aback a little to know that you had a gay friend or friends. Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t think it’s wrong at all. I was just surprised.”

“Peter, Peter,” Paul replied. “As we continue to live together, you will find that I am full of surprises.” We both laughed at that.

The service was a huge success. The congregation thoroughly enjoyed the harmony group, and was fully aware that they were gay. The group received a standing ovation lasting several minutes. Finally Paul asked them to be seated and he started his sermon. He chose the story of Noah and the flood as his subject. “How much more thankful can a man be, than for his Lord to spare his life and the lives of his family?” Paul asked rhetorically.

It was what he said to conclude the sermon that set me thinking and my mind reeling. “God placed a rainbow in the sky as a sign that he would never again destroy the world by flood and water,” Paul said. “I think God is playing games with us. This time it will be drought and fire, judging by the way our weather has been.”

It was true. I suddenly realized that I could not remember the last time it had rained. City officials were warning us that water would be rationed shortly, and we would have to forget about our lawns, and let them die. I hadn’t seen clouds in weeks, and with no cloud cover, the temperature never went below seventy-five degrees, even though it should average in the high forties this time of year. I began to pay attention to the weather reports, not only locally, but around the world.

On the Monday after the service, I received an unexpected call from a friend of mine. I hadn’t spoken to Luke in quite awhile, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear from him. “My wife is away for the holiday,” he informed me. “She went to visit my son, but she’s staying on for a week or more, so I didn’t go with her. How would you like to go down to the lake for some fishing, and we’ll camp over just the one night?”

God is helping me with my resolution to find a hang out buddy, I thought, and I accepted right away. We agreed to leave late Tuesday morning and return late Wednesday afternoon. We both felt that was all the time we could spare.

Luke picked me up at about 11 AM. We arrived at the lake at about 1 PM, and were appalled at what we saw. The lake was so low that there was dead plant life all over the shore line and worse, decaying fish were lying amidst the decaying plants. We decided definitely not to pitch our tent there.

“Let’s drive a few miles further,” Luke suggested. “I know another lake up that way. Maybe it will be better. There’s a diner along the way where we can stop for lunch.”

Somehow, neither of us thought that conditions would improve, so we lingered over our lunches, chewed the fat, and indeed, we did agree to hang out together more often. We didn’t arrive at the next lake until after 3 PM. It was worse than the first lake. All that remained of this beautiful body of water were a few little puddles. All plant and animal life were dead. I couldn’t help wondering why none of this was being reported. I didn’t remember hearing anything about it on the newscasts. We were at a very high elevation, and it was the end of November, but the temperature was just shy of eighty degrees. Yes, something was definitely not right. Now I could dare say that something was terribly wrong. Instinctively I turned my face toward the sky, hoping for divine explanation.

We agreed that the best course of action would be to just go home, but we decided to have dinner together before parting and plan another evening to hang out together. It was almost 9 PM when Luke dropped me off at home. I could see George’s car in my driveway and was pleased that Paul wasn’t spending the evening alone. I expected to see the two young men watching TV or just talking in the living room, but they weren’t there, and the house seemed very quiet. Maybe they are out walking, since the temperature is so mild, I thought.

Then I thought I heard a noise from upstairs. It might have been a slight laugh or maybe a sigh. I wasn’t sure. I crept quietly up the staircase, not knowing what to expect. Paul’s door was open. What I saw made me gasp, but I stifled my gasp so that I couldn’t be heard.

Paul and Luke were standing at the side of Paul’s bed. They were naked and holding each other tightly. They were kissing so passionately that I could only think that I had never kissed my wife that passionately, nor had she ever kissed me quite that way either. I was surprised to note that I felt a pang of jealousy. They were fondling each other’s cocks. I should have been ashamed and outraged, but was surprised to feel arousal instead. They were totally unaware of my presence.

Paul took hold of George’s shoulders and sat him down on the edge of the bed. Then he knelt between George’s legs and took George’s very erect cock into his mouth. I was frozen in place, but I knew I had to do something.

I had options, of course. I could make my presence known and order George out of my house. Or I could go quietly downstairs, re-enter the house noisily so that they could hear me, and interrupt their play. That would be cruel, I thought. Or I could leave the house and call Paul to let him know that I was coming home early. I didn’t know what I should do, but I was certain that I wasn’t angry or upset, and that in fact, I was aroused. That shocked the hell out of me.

I have always been a heterosexual. I can’t remember ever having a homosexual yearning in my life. I didn’t even know any gays, male or female. At least, I was not aware that I knew any of these people. With all the ministering I did for my congregation, I cannot recall a single incident when a homosexual came to me to ask my advice on how he should handle his life. Anyway, I would have been ill equipped to offer advice if it had been asked of me.

I was so confused about my being aroused, and I was so lost in thinking what my next move should be, that I failed to hear Paul gasp, “Peter, you’re home.” He was forced to call my name again before I could react. I looked up to see the two young ministers trying to get their briefs on and fumbling badly. I was so embarrassed that I just ran down the stairs, and collapsed on my big easy chair in the living room.

After awhile they came downstairs, fully clothed. “I’m sorry, Peter,” Paul said. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you soon in my own way. I don’t ask you to forgive me, just to try to understand.”

“It’s not hard for me to understand that you are both gay,” I mumbled. “I’m just so shocked. I wish you had told me, Paul, so I wouldn’t have found out in such a sordid way. Surely you know that I wouldn’t have been judgmental.”

“I know. I should have told you long ago. I’m really sorry,” Paul said sadly.

Finally George spoke up. “Paul and I have loved each other since the first day we met in seminary. What we were just doing was not sordid, Peter. We were making love. We have been hesitant to ask you, but we have been hoping you would perform a commitment ceremony for us, outside the church, of course.”

“Wow, that’s a zinger,” I said. “Never in my life did I think I’d officiate at one of those ceremonies.”

“Nobody would know,” Paul said. “It would just be the three of us and a couple of our friends.”

“Let me think about it,” I said. “My mind is too boggled right now to make a rational decision. In the meantime, George, I assume you were going to spend the night here, so don’t let me change your plans. Just close the door and try to be quiet.” I laughed as I said that, and that relaxed the boys considerably. I was quite surprised when they both embraced me and kissed me on the cheeks.

“You’re a prince,” Paul said, as he bounded up the stairs holding George’s hand. As I watched them hurry to a certain sexual encounter, I was surprised at how hard my cock had grown. In fact, I had to go to the bath room and seek relief.

As the days passed, the temperatures continued to rise. No rain was in sight. I called my son-in-law, the physicist at Yale, to ask him if he had any idea what was up. He started to explain that there was no scientific explanation. The earth was no closer to the sun than usual, and the sun was not burning any hotter, but there was simply less and less moisture in the air. The ozone layer was no worse off than it had ever been. Even the oceans were evaporating and as the surface came closer to the earth’s core, more heat was being generated into the atmosphere. At the poles, it would be expected that the ice would be melting, but it wasn’t. The ice was simply evaporating, and was not replenishing the ocean waters.

We had not finished talking when the call seemed to disconnect, and all I could get was static. After that I could never again reach my son in Los Angeles nor my daughter in New Haven.

That night, a chemical factory in town spontaneously combusted from the heat. Their air conditioning system had failed, and the excessive heat affected the chemicals. In fact, electric power was being lost all over the city. It happened during the night, so fortunately nobody was hurt. After that, the residents of the earth were not so lucky.

During services the next Sunday at George’s church, some cleaning chemicals which were stored in the basement, combusted. The church went up in a blaze and was gone in minutes. George and twenty-two of his flock were killed. I regretted that I had never gotten around to giving him and Paul their wish to have a commitment ceremony. I was truly angry at myself for being so hesitant to unite these two beautiful human beings.

Paul was inconsolable. Strangely he was able to strengthen himself with the certain knowledge that it was only a matter of time for the rest of us. Life did not go on as usual. Fires erupted all over the city. Food and water were disappearing at an alarming rate. There was panic and looting all over the city. Paul and I locked and fortified our doors and windows. We sat still all during the terrible nights, with my arms held tightly around him. I tried to keep him calm, but he cried constantly for George. We began to sleep in the same bed fully clothed. We had to stay alert watching for small fires which might erupt in the house, and we needed to be together to warn each other of such a contingency. We were completely cut off from the rest of the world.

Finally we lost our water supply, but we had hoarded dozens of bottles of water, which we drank sparingly. We could not be concerned that the water was warm, almost hot. In time we had to shed all our clothing because the heat was unbearable, and we kept one wash cloth damp so that we could somehow bathe ourselves.

In the midst of all this tragedy, Paul’s naked body began to arouse me. I wanted desperately to hold him and to do what he and George were doing when I first came upon them, but in his grief, I could not even suggest it. Still I was curious. One night we were lying naked in bed together, comforting each other as best we could. I asked him, “What’s it like to make love to a man?”

“What’s it like to make love to a woman?” he answered my question with a question.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s something you can’t explain.”

“I know,” Paul said. “You just have to experience it. Look, we are barricaded in this house. We are running out of food and water. If the house doesn’t burn up around us, we’ll be dead soon from dehydration and starvation. I love you Peter, not like I loved George, of course, but with such a short time left for us, I would be happy for us to make love so that I could show you what it’s like to make love to a man. I wish you could show me what it’s like to make love to a woman before I die, but it’s not in the cards for us. Are you willing to try?” Paul asked me.

I didn’t answer quickly. I thought of a time, just days ago, when we were both a little stronger, and about how his naked body had aroused me and I said, “Yes, Paul. Please make love with me. It’s been a long time since I made love to anyone. I’m glad it’s with you.”

We were both very weak, and we knew that whatever we did, it would be limited and difficult. Paul moved closer to me and now our bodies were touching. It felt so comforting to feel him, but immediately I became alarmed. He was burning up. I reached over and put my palm on his forehead. There was no doubt he had a high fever.

I felt him lay his hot hand on my thigh. He began to rub it gently up and down, and when he rubbed on the inside of my thigh, my body actually chilled for a moment. I was overwhelmed with a sensual emotion. He continued to rub gently until I could feel his palm cup my balls. I erected immediately and he wrapped his hand around my cock and stroked gently. I figured that he was going to masturbate me, but when he could tell that I was very hard, he sat up and then leaned over me. He enveloped my cock in his mouth and began to suck it gently. His tongue was parched and rough, but I was beginning to emit some precum. Paul caught it with the tip of his tongue, and lubricated his mouth and my cock as best he could. His moistened tongue licked up and down my shaft and his lips pumped from the outside. His hand played gently with my balls. I could not remember the last time I had cum, and it was welling up in me fast. I wanted to warn him, but I was too weak.

I came in his mouth and he lapped up every drop of cum. When he was done and he had recovered somewhat, he said, “That’s very healthy, you know. Lots of protein. You should have some nourishment yourself.”

I smiled sheepishly at him. I was shocked that I went right down on him, without reticence, without hesitation. In fact, I went down on him greedily, and when his time came, I swallowed his protein as well. Afterwards, we lay on our backs, holding hands, trying to recuperate.

“Did you like it?” he asked curiously.

“Yes,” I said, “very much. I thought I would be revolted somehow, but the experience was very pleasant. You taste really good, Paul.”

“I hope we have the strength to try anal sex in a little while,” Paul said as he fell asleep.

I lay there thinking about what he said. He wanted to have anal sex with me, and I desperately wanted to experience it. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts as I too fell asleep.

I woke up at dawn. I had to pee. I hadn’t peed in a couple of days, for lack of water. I could hear Paul snoring lightly. I looked over at his naked body and his flaccid dick. I laid my palm on his cock and stroked it lightly. There was no sign of arousal, so I leaned over and kissed his parched lips. His breath was foul, but I reckoned mine was just as bad. He lay still but he sighed. I knew he was too weak to do much else. His forehead burned even hotter.

I peed, but there was no way to flush. The house stunk of human waste. I went into the kitchen to scavenge for liquid and food, but the cupboards were truly bare. I thought about swallowing Paul’s cum, that’s how hungry and thirsty I was, but I sincerely doubted that I could arouse him.

The wet cloth we had used to cleanse ourselves was bone dry. I had wanted to put a cold, damp cloth on Paul’s sweet forehead, but alas, it was not to be. If I could produce some sweat, I would have bathed his head with it, but I couldn’t even do that.

The trip to the kitchen had expended my final energy. I just about crawled back to the bedroom and lay down next to Paul. I took his hand, but it felt different somehow. I listened carefully, but I could not hear him breathing. I looked at his face. It was no longer red and flushed. His face had taken on a serene expression and, I swear, he was smiling. I dared hope that at the moment he died, he saw God and smiled.

I wanted so much to cry, but I could not produce a single tear. I rolled over on top of him so that my cock rubbed against his. Gently I dry humped him. I didn’t expect it to happen, but I could feel an orgasm emerging from deep within me. As I held Paul tight and spilled my seed upon his lifeless cock, I thought I smelled something. I rolled off him and smelled deeper. It was without a doubt the smell of smoke.

As we had long expected, the house had combusted. All the windows and doors were sealed and I didn’t have the energy to pull off the boards and run outside into the searing heat. I kissed Paul on the cheek, and took his hand. I knew that I was either about to enter an eternity of darkness, or an eternity reflected in God’s light. My faith prevailed, and I made my choice. I squeezed Paul’s lifeless hand as hard as I could, with the unquestionable certainty that in a few short minutes, he would introduce me to God.

Posted: 12/04/09