Sexual Apocalypse 1

Literotica readers hello. I am writing this to you from the year 2048. Yes, while we cannot send people back in time, with the advent of quantum computing, we have discovered a means by which we can send back messages to web portals like this one.

So, I am sending this message to you in hopes you can do something to prepare for what is coming. You may not be able to affect mankind's future, but hopefully this will ease your own personal transition. Given the type of catastrophic events I am going to tell you about -- things that will happen very soon -- this website seemed particularly appropriate.

Your world is about to end. The world you've known up to now, will cease to exist.

By way of telling you what happened to mankind, I'll tell you my own story, what I lived through. It was harrowing.

The first hint I got that something was not normal was when I looked out my window one fine summer's morning and saw the lady next door fucking the mailman. There she was, on her front porch swing, dress up, panties down, he on his knees, fly open, rocking her back and forth, skewering her on a long thick erection. She is married with two kids, a devout Baptist.

Then, later that day, in the supermarket parking lot I passed no fewer than three separate cars with couples copulating in them.

Okay, it could happen, right? I mean at any one moment during a day, X percent of the population is fucking. I just happened to be an eye witness to an inordinate amount of that happening, I figured.

But the next day, in my backyard, I heard a telltale noise coming from the house behind me. I peeked through the fence. Oh my word. The guy was fucking his daughter. Daughters. College age cuties, both. First one then the other, each on their own chaise lounge.

His wife was awaiting her turn.

But what I saw that night on the evening news changed everything. Right in the middle of the weather report, the weather lady, the one with a body that made the weather seem irrelevant, took off her clothes. Those breasts, bulwarks more than bosoms, that I'd lusted after for years were suddenly on display like some sort of 38D battering rams.

She never blinked an eye. She just kept up the weather report in that cheerful delivery of hers, pulled down her lime green panties and bent over the anchorman's desk. He stood up, lowered his pants and sunk his cock between her equally impressive ass cheeks. The cameras kept running, even occasionally zooming in on the wet, sluicing action of their conjoined genitals.

The Sexual Apocalypse was upon us. All of this was made all the more stressful because my own daughter was having a day after Fourth of July sleepover for her college soccer team. I had six 19 year old girl athletes in the house. Fortunately they weren't watching the news.

Well, they couldn't miss the action that took place the next day, a Saturday. It was the day that marked the beginning of the end of civilization as we knew it. Anything live on TV was x rated -- a golf tournament with the onlookers in a giant outdoor orgy, everybody naked and fucking, a pro stopping to fuck a lady on the tenth green; a baseball game where fan girls jumped out of the stands to chase players around the diamond; a lady reporter on the street reporting on the alarming outbreak of public sex who got accosted by several young lads and ended up in a foursome, stroking and sucking them till they came all over her face. Policemen fucking prostitutes on the hoods of their cruisers. The New York Stock Exchange shut down for an impromptu fuck fest.

I watched the nice middle aged couple across the street swap partners with the nice middle aged couple next door to them. On their front lawn. The college girls behind us had a large pool party and were making large, sloshing waves. Humping in unison.

I holed up in my house, attached the garden hose to my kitchen faucet and prepared to douse any and all sex zombies who tried to come in. The girls were equally freaked, though they showed it by giggling a lot.

We watched what we could watch on TV and brought out the radio and over the next few days saw and heard many hair raising stories. We gradually got a picture of what was happening out there. It was the end of civilization, the beginning of the Great Debauch. But, we also discovered that we weren't alone. In other parts of the country enclaves had formed where citizens isolated themselves from the sex rioters. The reports coming in on the few, non sexualized TV channels left on the air indicated this widespread immoral behavior was occurring around the globe, and it traveled from country to country with alarming speed. Experts, if there could be such a thing for this kind of phenomenon, speculated that this was the result of some sort of virus or a highly contagious pathogen of some sort.

The victims were all adults. They did not display violent tendencies in any way. They just seemed to have completely dispensed with any sort of shame, dignity, or inhibitions or sense of decorum. They engaged in all manner of sexual acts wherever and whenever they wanted. Entire inner cities were caught in the throes of this disaster as their populations wantonly rutted with each other. Restaurants stayed open, as did stores and movie houses and businesses. But they did so while fucking. At an insurance agency the receptionist was bent over her desk getting fucked by the janitor. Yogurt was served up on a woman's tits. There were still backyard barbecues, but in the nude, hotdogs and cocks being served with mustard and buns.

The kids quickly became used to it, apparently. Parents and teachers still chatted and discussed kids behavior and such, and then fucked each other. In a traffic jam, people stopped their cars and had sex on the hoods. In the parks, children played while parents swapped partners, still watching their kids. Truck drivers delivered their products, then fucked the receiving clerk. Firemen put out fires and then fucked the bystanders.

In the burbs, block parties happened pretty much every block, every night. Nobody watched TV or played on computers. Packs of people roamed the neighborhoods and then engaged with other roaming packs in wild, screaming, moaning, grunting, spewing, lustful mass merrymaking.

By about three o'clock in the morning everything was dead quiet. I can tell you that my neighborhood was silent in the middle of the night. Folks just slept very well, then they woke up in the morning and started it all up again. Good morning Mrs. Johnson! What was that? Fuck you? Okay. It became a normal thing. Mattress sales skyrocketed.

Politicians were helpless to stop it. Nobody was watching them anyway, nobody was listening to their dire warnings of societal collapse. And as it turned out, they were mostly too old and limp to catch the 'virus' themselves.

On several occasions they sent in the National Guard, even the Marines and Army, but the troops never returned.

Serious newscasters reported it like it was some sort of natural disaster. Sex Tsunami Strikes Cities! Outbreak of Coitus Reported in London, New York, Tokyo, Paris, Rome!

We were urged to stay inside. Scientists, we were told, were working on a solution, those that weren't busy fucking each other.

I had enough food in my cupboards to last awhile, but six teenage girls can consume a lot, especially when there was nothing to do besides play Parchesi and watch live porn on most any channel on the air.

I had to make a plan to get out of there. I'd heard there was a safe haven on an island off the coast. We'd have to hike overland to the beach and find a boat.

Through a landscape overrun by sexually depraved zomboids.

The girls were ready. They wanted out of the house and they didn't seem at all frightened when I explained that we might, at any time, be attacked by sex crazed fiends. They were amazing, even eager to get out there and fend for themselves against the threat of molesting monsters.

How could I arm myself? I had a can of mace. But at the last minute I found a large photo of a certain well known politician. His face was sure to kill the sex drive of the horniest person.

We took off that evening, winding our way through back alleys and back streets, always headed west toward the coast. The sounds we heard would curdle the staunchest hero's blood. Gasps, groans, cries and whines of sexual release, the sloshy squishy sound of genitals colliding, the occasional choking gag of a fellatrix swallowing semen.

We had to carefully circumvent several block parties where couples, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes writhed in sweaty, panting, wriggling fornication, shooting body fluids at each other with complete abandonment of civility and decency.

I got my first serious scare that night. We were hiding inside a church, the girls all settled in for the night on the pews and me at the altar. I heard a noise coming from the back, a whimper and gasp. I grabbed the photo of what's his name and crept back there, ready to leap out and completely destroy some fiend's libido with it.

Instead I found two of the girls, Mabel and Sierra, their legs wrapped around each other's heads, mouths smushed into each other's crotches, wriggling and humping and cumming hard.

Damn. The first casualties from our little group of survivors. They'd got the bug.

But no. I called out their names and they looked up at me with those cum smeared faces, lust addled eyes, their fingers slick with honey dew. No, they apologized, they weren't sex zombies. They were just being normal teenage girls. Experimenting, they said.

I was relieved. They asked me if I wanted to do some experimenting, but I assured them that, with the world spinning on the edge of oblivion, I had other, more important things on my mind.

Sierra pointed at Mr. Happy Man and said, not on his mind though. Mabel licked her lips. But I was stalwart and I gave them a short lecture on the need to maintain our sanity amid all the craziness. I pointed at the altar and suggested they pray for solace. Sierra showed me a fat votive candle she'd found and said she was going to use it for solace.

The next day was worse than the first. It seemed every turn we took we encountered fornicators. Here's the UPS guy showing a housewife how to use the dildo she ordered. Here's the lawnmower guy rolling in a pile of leaves with his client. Here's a guy shooting sperm, trying to hit a paper cup held up by two young ladies riding Sybians. Here's a large windowed office with a businessman looking over a business lady's shoulder at her computer, fucking her large white ass. Here's a coach lining up his softball team by the size of their tits, they're all kneeling in short center field while he walks down the line sticking his dick in each of their eager mouths. Here's a priest fucking a couple of nuns. Here's a lady with a bag full of produce, sitting on her car, testing each inside the gaping wet maw of her vagina.

The girls were troopers. They stared it all down, made a few jokes, giggled a lot, the way teenage girls process stress. That night we found another church, empty, of course. We ordered a pizza and had the delivery guy drop it in front, take the cash we left under the politician's picture.

I gathered the girls together so we could talk about what was happening, try to build their morale, help them to understand there was hope yet for humankind. We'd get through this. We'd survive.

They had lots of questions. Can all girls squirt like that lady with the cucumber in her ass? Do most guys roll back their eyes and talk in tongues while cumming like the man who was fucking three cute girls in the kiddy pool full of chocolate syrup? Have I ever seen ten guys lined up fucking each other's asses in tandem like that? Is it really even possible to have too much sex?

While I didn't know the answers to many of their questions, I felt that I helped. We retired for he night and they all slept on the same pew. I ignored all the slurping sounds I heard, as best I could. It was better to let them work off their steam than let it build up. Brittany came to me late and said she was scared, asked if she could sleep next to me.

I held her and we hugged awhile. She wanted a couple of good night kisses. She asked how she would know if she was becoming a sex zombie.

I told her that she was still normal.

Maybe, she said, but, is this normal? she asked, and put her hand on my cock.

I assured her that from what I could tell, as long as we kept our clothes on we weren't zombies.

She was still unsure, so she tested that theory. She laid her body on top of mine and began to hump her jeans crotch against my jeans covered penis. Her cute tits inside her soccer jersey rubbed my chest, the nipples so hard I could feel them poking me. She kissed and bit my neck. She pinched my nipples through my shirt.

We didn't become zombies. We didn't rip off our clothes. It was heartening to know. Over the past several days, we'd seen so much, lived through so many traumatic experiences, been on the very verge of discovery so many times, it felt like we were two soldiers caught in a foxhole. Well, two soldier caught in a foxhole and dry humping each other.

She suddenly shuddered and cried out and I felt my cock explode inside my shorts. What a mess.

Daddy, are you alright? my daughter called. Are you, are you, a zombie?

I assured her I was fine, then made my way to the bathroom to clean up. The girls were giggling and laughing much of the night, but then, they had a lot of stress to process.

The next day was our closest shave yet. We were in a tight group, walking through a golf course when suddenly we were surrounded by one of those roaming packs of sex seeking fuck brains. Surely they would detect that we were not like them. I had to think quickly.

I had the girls strip and pair off. I myself quickly got between Sierra's legs and began pretending to perform cunnilingus on her. She got into it, too, wrapping her thighs around my head and pushing my face into her vagina, rocking her hips up at me and whimpering in that high, sweet voice of hers.

I felt a mouth swallow my cock and looked down to see little Persimmon helping us in our subterfuge.

The crowd around us didn't notice we were not zombies. Another group had merged with them and all were fucking madly. The girls really sold them on our ruse, moaning and wriggling around like the sex maniacs were doing.

Persimmon was face fucking my cock as Sierra began faking an orgasm, complete with creamy oozing fluid and body contractions. I had to pull Persi off my cock to keep from shooting my seed into her pretty little mouth.

How we avoided becoming fuck heads I will never know. Later, when the crowd of bangers left, the girls lay awhile letting the fear subside, just sort of lolling there on the fairway. We eventually dressed and moved on, grateful to still be among the moral and untarnished.

That night we stayed at yet another church. The girls asked me for another little lecture. They had even more questions.

How many times can a man ejaculate in one day? Does it hurt a woman to be penetrated in both the anus and the vagina at the same time? Why is sex considered so secret and naughty in our society? Is dry humping sex?

Well, that last one came from my daughter and I didn't answer it. But later that night, Sophie came to me and confessed that she was beginning to feel kind of zombie like. Sophie is super cute. Small with really nice tits and heart shaped ass.

I asked if she had an irresistible urge to take off her clothes and engage in sexual activities. She said she felt that way every ten minutes or so. But she'd felt that way even before the sex apocalypse happened. She asked if she could kiss me to see what kind of reaction she got. Well, her nipples got hard. Her leg draped over mine and her fingers danced with Mr. Happy.

Oh my god, she said, I'm a zombie!

I pointed out the fact that she still had her clothes on, unlike most zomboids we saw.

Oh thank you, Mr. P, she said, and climbed up to straddle my lap. Her hips moved against mine in sort of a spiraling grinding humping motion and it didn't take her long to find blessed release. Unfortunately, she was pretty verbal and when I looked up after Mr. Happy spit out his happy juice, all the girls were there, looking at us. Well, then Mabel had to test for zombiehood. And Persi. And Sierra. And Sybil.

Finally, only my daughter was left. And Mr. Happy was still happy. I was against it, but all the girls insisted that we had to see if she was infected or not. And, they wanted her to really test me to see if I was getting the bug.

So Jamie climbed on top of me and as she began grinding her hips against mine Sierra sat in the pew behind us and whispered in my ear, oh Daddy, do you want to shoot your cum inside your daughter's sweet little pussy? Do you want to stick Mr. Happy inside her butthole? She whispered to Jamie too. Rip off his clothes and yours, Jamie, and stick that big monster cock inside your nasty wet cunt, girl, until you both explode like cum bombs all over each other. You know you want it. Fuck him, girl, deep and hard.

And so on. I'm happy to say that I resisted the urge to rip off my clothes and drape each of the girls over a pew and lay waste to their young bodies.

My shorts were a sticky, gooey, yucky mess, though.

The next day we made the coast. As we sat there on the beach we could see couples and groups of people laying in the sun, nude, fucking and sucking and playing in the surf with each other. But sometime in the early afternoon a boatload of men in camo gear came ashore in a large motor boat. They set up a perimeter and trained their automatic weapons on the revelries happening around them. I hailed the commander and we talked.

They were some of the last untouched humans hereabouts and had to eat saltpeter pills to stay uninfected. They had a shelter on an island off shore where everybody wore chastity belts. They were in contact with the government, which was holed up in a mountain in Colorado. Nukes were considered at first, but other than the fact everybody was fucking everybody else, most services and societal infrastructure remained intact.

He said we could live on the island if we could prove we weren't infected. They would have to quarantine us in a site they had built specially for that purpose up the beach. We were herded into a wire enclosed pen and ordered to spend the night inside the monitored tent inside. The guys who led us to the quarantine enclosure were stern and serious, and were armed as though they were going into battle with hordes of flesh eating undead. The bangers on the beach just ignored them, went right on fucking away.

Anyway, one of them made an unfortunate comment, checking out the girls, about them being 'breeders.' The girls heard.

Well, it was a moonlit night. And somewhere down the beach an orchestra was playing old love songs. The girls were not sleepy. Nor was I.

Sierra was the first to go. She just took off all her clothes and began fingering herself. Pretty soon they all just dropped their clothes and lay back fondling themselves and each other.

Jamie came over to where I was sitting, glum and defeated. She kissed me, then slowly began taking off my clothes. Off came the shirt, the shoes, the jeans. I realized that when those jockeys came down I would be joining the ranks of the fucked.

She mouthed my member right through my underwear for some time. The other girls all came over to watch and all that lovely teenage skin glowing smooth and silky in the blue moonlight finally turned me. I lowered my own jockeys and Jamie slowly dropped her sweet lips over the glans and her tongue swirled around the super sensitive underside. She made some deliberately obscene sucking sounds to heighten the sensations, then began to face fuck me in earnest, both hands stroking my rod. When I came she let the spunk fly onto my stomach. Then she crawled up my torso and lowered her tight, wet pussy down onto my cock. She squished her tummy down onto that spunk, sliding around on the gooey stuff. We fucked like zombie sex maniacs right there on that moonlit beach to the sounds of 'Moon River' coming from down the strand.