After the End of the World

The party's still going strong and likely will be for hours. I don't think we've ever hosted this many people at our place, but with so many students in this year's high school graduating class, it would have been a royal pain for all of them to travel amongst their friend's widely scattered homesteads to each other's graduation parties. Since we have the biggest barn in the district (it even has a reasonably effective peat-burning stove) and are the parents of twenty-five percent of the graduating class, we offered to host one big party for everyone.

We have eight graduates and their families mingling in the barn, the house and various outbuildings. (Ten, if you consider that Ty and Haley have brought their offspring up from Stanley for the weekend.) The gathering is potluck and BYOB of course, and our guests seem to be managing just fine, so this is probably the best time for our little getaway. Caiden and I still get a thrill from having sex at seemingly inappropriate times and places.

Just over the hill from our homestead is an old shepherd shanty that we renovated early on. It's tiny, but it's got a nice bed, a lock on the sturdy door, and curtains that can be drawn, perfect for when things are crazy at home. As soon as we're out of sight over the hill, we break into a run.

Soon, our clothes are in two neat piles on the floor (in case we have to get dressed again quickly) and we're in each other's arms. After better than eighteen years, this still feels really good. It's not terribly warm in here, but we're so acclimated to chilly temperatures that we really don't even notice as we run our hands all over each other's still lean and strong bodies.

I can feel that he's about to lay me down on the bed when I pull my lips away from his momentarily. "Uh, Caiden, I have some news that I've been waiting to tell you." I'm trying to affect a casual tone, but he knows me way better than that.

"What is it?" he asks, concerned.

Before I can answer, we're interrupted by approaching voices. "Shit," Caiden gasps, "I forgot to lock the door." And we're clear around the other side of the bed from there. Maybe we could get there and lock it before whoever's out there opens it, but they sound close, so maybe not.

Thinking along the same lines, we kick our stacks of clothing into the tiny closet right next to the bed, then pack ourselves in as well. I'm thinking that whatever youngsters these are, they're just exploring and will come and go in short order, if they even come in at all. Caiden grabs the closet's doorknob so we can pretend it's locked if necessary, and then we hear the sound of the front door opening.

"Hey, this is nicer than I expected from the way you described it." It's a young man's voice. Familiar, but I can't quite place it. He's using mostly Received Pronunciation (meaning that he sounds like a standard Brit), so he's probably from Stanley, the Falkland's closest approximation to a city.

In the areas outside of Stanley (what everyone calls 'camp'), our kids' accents are a mix of Australian, New Zealand, West Country, Norfolk and Lowland Scots. My kids and other 'kelpers' laugh at me for my Yank accent, but on the occasion that I get to meet an unadulterated American, I realize how much my own pronunciation has changed.

"Will it do for our first time?" a young female voice asks. The accent is camp, with a little Montana mixed in.

The top of the closet door ends a good six inches short of the top of the door frame, so it's light enough in here that I can put a calming hand on Caiden's shoulder, just in case he's wanting to burst out of the closet. It's Amelia out there.

"To finally make love with you? Hell, I'd be willing to do it anywhere, Amy."

"That's because you're a boy, Drew, but I've wanted my first time to be right here ever since I was twelve and saw my folks doing it right on this bed."

Caiden and I are staring at each other, processing two revelations. First, we'd never realized that we'd been caught at it, and second, our daughter's beau is none other than Ty and Haley's redheaded eldest. (At least we think he's the eldest. Andrew was given the same birthday by default, but because he was slightly bigger than James, he was considered the older of the 'twins.')

I can see the same wheels turning in my beloved's head that are turning in mine. Is this an acceptable match? And if it's not, do we even have the right to object? My answers are yes and no respectively, and I'm relieved to see that my husband agrees. Andrew's hair has mellowed with age, but his eyes are still as striking. I've heard that some of the girls find them disconcerting, but Amelia has known him her whole life and it's never bothered her.

The only other question is whether we should alert them to our presence. It would be quite rude to listen, which we won't be able to help if we stay, but it might ruin the mood for them if we make them step out of the cabin so we can get dressed and vacate it for them. And then they would know we knew they were about to have sex with each other for the first time. (And they'd know that we had been about to have sex.)

And it's not like they get a lot of opportunities to be alone, though this certainly explains why Amy has recently been so eager to go to Stanley anytime someone needs to pick up supplies.

Caiden puts a finger to his lips and throws me a questioning expression. I put a finger to my own lips and nod.

"No," Amy says, "let's leave our clothes on. We need to be back in ten minutes or they'll come looking for us. The timing is perfect though, so there's a real good chance you'll knock me up."

I tighten my hand on Caiden's shoulder. When we were growing up, that was a nightmare scenario for the parents of a teenage girl, but society, at least around here, has changed. World population is a tiny fraction of what it was, and we need more people.

While it had been thought for a while that the Southern Hemisphere would be spared, the dust and ash spread much more widely than the models had predicted. Global average temperatures dropped significantly, causing massive famines around the world for almost five years. It was especially bad in the underdeveloped countries and places with high population densities. Over seventy-five percent of the southern hemisphere's people eventually starved to death, and the world's population dipped below seven hundred million, lower than it had been in the year 1800.

The Falklands were spared the worst of it because our local climate is so dependent on the sea temperatures around us. It got a little colder here, but we're used to cold, and the sheep hardly seemed to notice. And agriculture? What's that? Due to the global downturn in trade, though, we did eat a lot more mutton during those years.

But now the skies have cleared and global temperatures have returned to near normal. Lands to the north that were emptied almost two decades ago are becoming habitable again.

As the area around the Chernobyl disaster site had shown, life returns quickly after radiation exposure. But what our intrepid explorers are finding is that for large swaths of northern land, the crop failures were more due to the cold and the dust than any major amounts of radiation. Now those areas are ready for habitation again. It's almost a land rush, and more people are desperately needed in the Big Rebuilding.

By the standards of twenty years ago, Caiden and I would have been considered freaks for having nine kids, but today, that makes us about average, at least on the Islands. Even being seven or eight years older than us, Ty and Haley managed seven. And their James already has a bride who is four months along herself. The two youngsters will be leaving for Ireland in a couple of weeks with a group of ninety who are trying to establish a colony there.

Fertility is important to our young people as well, as having kids (and raising them right) has become a point of pride, and the prime reason for marriage again. In our community, it's considered risky for a boy to marry a girl he hasn't already impregnated. But woe to the boy who doesn't marry the girl he's made pregnant, or the girl who refuses to marry the boy whose child she carries. We have ways of discouraging that as a community. The fact that the young people on the other side of this door are trying to get pregnant means that they have agreed to marry if they're successful. Frankly, I'm pulling for them.

"Wait," Amy says. "Let me lay out the towel first. We don't want to leave a mess."

"What, it's gonna leak out?"

"Some of it, yeah. At least that's what Willow says. She said it made a big mess on her parents' comforter."

Oh boy.

Willow is the only child of Bashiir and Hani, who are watching our youngest while we hide in a closet and hear about how semen leaks from their daughter's vagina.

"Well, enough of it evidently stayed in there to do the job," Drew says, chuckling.

"Yeah, and Willow just told me they're gonna announce their engagement to everyone at dinner tonight."

I can see that Caiden's trying to figure this one out as well. If "they" are going to be here, it means that Willow's fiancé has got to be one of the five boys in Greg and Amy's class.

I figure whomever it is should count themselves lucky. Bashiir and Hani were very successful childhood immigrants from Kenya to Britain. They were honeymooning on a South Pacific cruise when the war started, and had elected to stay in the Falklands rather than continue to the next port of call in Chile. They'd been successful here too and had become pretty damn good sheep ranchers. Their daughter Willow is a stunner, with long flowing lines, a gorgeous face, a dazzling smile and gleaming ebony skin. She's also the class valedictorian, a lightning quick sheep shearer, and my younger kids' favorite babysitter.

"Are you ready?" Drew asks, pulling me back from my reverie.

"Why don't you check for yourself?"

"Jesus Amy, it's a good thing you spread that towel."

"So yeah, I'm ready. Don't make me wait."

"Music to my ears, love."

There's a squeak of bedsprings, then, "here, let me guide you."

For a long moment we hear only breathing, then, "Oh Jesus, that's good."

Amy giggles, but the passion and tension in her voice are plain. "You like that? Just wait 'til you're past my hymen."

"Do you want me to break it fast or slow?"

"Well, unless you want someone to catch us at it, I'd suggest fast."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're really big, Drew, so you're going to hurt me in any case, but it's a hurt I really, really want."

"Okay then, here goes."

A few seconds later there are two gasps, one low-pitched and conveying pure delight, and a higher pitched one that tells of pleasure and pain. I've just listened to my own daughter's deflowering.

"Are you okay?" Drew asks, obviously concerned.

"Oh God yes," Amy murmurs happily. "I've wanted to do this with you for so long."

"Me too. I love you, Amy."

"And I love you too, Drew. Now let's make a baby."

Back when I was their age, there had been arguments about whether sex should be for recreation or procreation. This generation would laugh at that and say it's for both. I'm with them there, though I hope to be making love with Caiden for decades after our baby-making days are over.

The sound of talking is replaced by the squeak of bedsprings, sporadic at first, but quickly becoming even and quick as they figure out how lovemaking works. "Oh Jesus, Drew," my daughter murmurs, "you're so incredibly deep and you feel so good inside me."

"Amy, for the last five years I've wondered what it would feel like to be inside a woman, but I never imagined it could be this good. There's one thing I always knew for sure, though, and that's that it would be with you. It's always been you, Amy."

"And I knew it would be you too, Drew. Even when I played house as a kid, I always dreamed you would be my husband."

"Well let's hope you get pregnant so we can make that real," he says. I note that neither of them questions that pregnancy is a prerequisite for their marriage. It truly is a different world now.

Then, over the sounds of their lovemaking, we hear more steps on the wooden porch. The squeaking stops as the door opens. Guess we weren't the only ones who forgot to lock it.

"Walter, are you in-" Then the voice stops for a long moment.

"Hi Grandma Edwards," Amy says.

"Well bless your hearts," Cathy says. "I hope I get a great grandchild out of this, but Amy, you should probably pull up the back of your dress a little so you don't get a stain on it."

"Oh, thanks, Grandma. I didn't realize."

"Least I could do, but now I'd best leave you two alone. Have fun!"

"Oh, we are, Mrs. Edwards," Drew says bravely. The door closes, then the two of them bust out laughing. That's quickly cut off, though, as the lovemaking picks right back up. I wonder what Cathy would have said if she had walked in and caught Greg and me having sex. Maybe I'll ask her later. She and Walter have been living with us for seventeen years and we can talk about anything.

"Amy," Drew says, "I was so preoccupied by what we were gonna do here that I totally forgot to tell you that I made the down payment on the boat. Starting Monday, she's mine."

Amelia actually squeals in excitement. "You're gonna be the youngest fishing captain in the islands, but are you sure you're ready?"

"I've been going out on every trip for the last five years when I wasn't in school, and I captained for eight weeks when my dad broke his leg and had to stay home. I'm ready, and the crew I've hired thinks so too. We're going to be a real force in the industry, hon."

"I knew you could do it, lover."

I'm amazed that they can talk like this during their first sex. It says good things about my potential son-in-law's stamina.

"Oh God, Amy. I'm about to come."

Well, he's working on it anyway.

"I'm coming too," she gasps. Our daughter cries out with her release and we hear Drew groan as he goes over the edge as well. Then there's the sound of desperate kissing for a bit that eventually slows. All things considered, I think the two of them have done a fabulous job for their first time.

"Well, I guess that means we're not virgins anymore," he says, obviously quite pleased with himself. He should be, to have landed my daughter. Amy's stunning blonde looks would have made Courtney and Kara seem quite plain in comparison. She's also got a quick wit, a patient soul, and a work ethic that makes me look like a slacker. Drew somehow shares his father's big, handsome, raw-boned looks and easygoing temperament. We grow good kids down here in the Falklands.

"Yeah, but maybe it means we're gonna be parents," Amy says happily. "My mom says she got pregnant with Greg and me the first time. Maybe it'll be the same for us."

Caiden and I grin at each other. When they were ten years old, we told our two eldest that they weren't really twins, but they didn't care. They'll always think of themselves that way. And Andrew is aware of his parentage as well, at least as much as anyone knows about it. Caiden and I have told him what little we knew of his mother.

"I'm sorry I came so soon," Drew says.

"Oh, you did great for your first time out. Willow says Greg came on her bush when he tried to put it inside her the first time."

Again, Caiden and I are staring at each other with wide eyes. Willow's pregnant with our grandchild? It's all I can do not to jump up and down. That wonderful girl is going to be my daughter!

And Gregory's getting more than just a beautiful bride. He's always wanted nothing more than to run a sheep ranch, and Bashiir once told us that, since Willow is their only child and wants to stay on the ranch, whichever man marries her is inheriting a pretty good spread.

I know my son well enough not to question his motivations, but he's done a damn good job of choosing a bride. And he's got seven siblings coming up behind him, any of whom might be the one to keep our place in the family.

"Oops, I lost you," Amy giggles. "I guess it's time to clean up. Here, you can use the other end of the towel."

Thirty seconds later, they head out the door to rejoin their friends, but I know they'll never be the same. Caiden and I come out of the closet, knowing that our lives have just changed again too. He belatedly locks the front door while I lie down on the warm spot on the bed my daughter made for me. Best not to dwell on that thought.

We don't need a towel because I've trained my vaginal muscles well enough that there's no danger of anything leaking. That makes spontaneous sex in random places a lot more convenient. We still take frequent advantage of that.

I spread my legs for my lover. He's ready as well, quickly entering me to the hilt as I firmly massage his big cock. It may not be our first time, but it never fails to be mind-numbingly good. We fall into the ancient rhythm.

Life in the Falkland Islands can be hard, but we've thrived. The first thing Caiden and I did was apply for a wedding license, then convert from Lutheran and Episcopalian respectively to Anglican. That accomplished, we were able to get married in the beautiful Christ Church Cathedral in downtown Stanley.

We lived in a shepherd shanty very much like this one for a couple of years until we could convince the bank to take a risk on funding our own sheep ranch. Caiden's vast experience with Ovis aries and my business acumen really helped, but it was his innovation in finding the right local fertilizers to grow hay in the horrendous Falkland soil that made the difference.

With that hay, we were able to supplement the diet of the ewes during the critical lambing season when the grazing is at its worst. And with that extra nutrition, the lambs' mortality rate dropped from its previously horrendous percentage. And as a result of that, our sheep population and wool harvest exploded. The loan got paid off way early.

Now everyone's followed suit and the number of sheep on these rather barren islands has gone way up, which is good, considering that the number of children here has as well. The islands will be sending more than their share of young people to those northern hemisphere settlements eventually, including (statistically) five or six of my own brood. I'm both proud and sad, but at least with the new satellites launching from New Zealand, we'll be able to video chat.

I'm proud of my contributions to our family's success, but even prouder of my split-second decision to use the captain's microphone before we escaped the ship. That very evening, the passengers took over the Héctor Cámpora and sailed it to Argentina, then (after being provisioned and refueled by the good and generous people of Río Gallegos) they sailed it to New Zealand.

The international outrage over what was going on in that renegade province prompted the Argentine military to put down that malevolent regime in a nearly bloodless operation, then free and unite the families from abroad. Just as importantly, they released masses of dissenters from political prisons. Yup, I had a hand in that, thank you very much.

So now I get the pleasure of being very well pleasured by a man who knows exactly what I like and strives to give it to me every time. (That works both ways, as I'm sure he would attest.) But then Caiden kisses me and reminds me that I'd said I have news for him. Uh, yeah, I sure do. I decide to just go ahead and confess directly.