Get into the tent.

Carl knew that his current complaints were petty. In contrast to the unending struggle to survive and to keep those essential bonds of family intact, an adolescent’s internal struggle with his sexuality - what could be uncharitably dismissed as Carl just being a lewd and licentious teenager - seemed like less of a pressing priority. Even if one took the view that such matters were integral to his wellbeing, it was a relatively minor consideration when compared to starving to **** or not getting devoured by zombies. Carl understood, then, that it wasn’t a priority.

But that didn’t mean that, in the quiet moments, it didn’t gnaw away at him. Carl knew that he was missing out on a lot. Carl knew that his life was not normal - not by any old meaning of the word, anyway. But out of all the things he was missing out on, the lack of any real experiences was the most impactful. There was an innate need - primal, emotional, carnal, and intellectual all at once - that he knew was not being sated, that there were so few opportunities to attend to.

He had confided - in euphemistic and vague terms - in his father about it. Rick had reassured him that it was normal. That, sure, it was a tough time to be tackling all of these hormones and cravings even when society was intact, that combined with the downfall of society the coming of age was an unenviable task. Carl felt...okay, there was sympathy there. He wasn’t sure that his dad got it, though. When Carl had told him about his desire for a girlfriend, he had been strange and philosophical about it. He acted like that a lot since the apocalypse started, always trying to sound like a wise man so everyone would keep following his lead.

Keeping in mind those trivial and mundane things was what kept them human, was what kept them ostensibly tethered to the world that had been destroyed and that they hoped to, one day, in one form or another, see returned. That was what he’d said. And he seemed to think that Carl was in the grips of some arrested development. Carl had already gone through puberty, was used to the hormonal changes, was used to struggling with keeping wet dreams secret and masturbatory escapes stealthy. Rick seemed to think that Carl was coming to him the moment these hormonal changes kicked in, but no. He’d been through it all.

But Carl was still a teenager. He had needs. Needs that a restricted social circle and an absence of both technology and privacy meant that he had to vent through pumping his cock into a corner as his mind conjured up whatever vague and erotic fantasy it could. And saying the passion his parents had...urgh. He wanted a hot woman to kiss him like that. He wanted to grope a sexy woman in such a similar way. He felt envious of his dad. It was wrong, but he was easily stimulated right now.

With a nod, he moved into the tent, crawling in so that his mother wouldn’t notice the growing tent in his pants. “I’m...tired,” Carl murmured, searching for the nearest excuse to hand, hoping that his mother wouldn’t scrutinize it too closely. It was going to be a tight fit. Not good for his restraint. He looked over at his mother as she crawled into the tent as well, moving onto her hands and knees - having to squeeze herself around a bit to turn around, and zipped up the tent. Her ass was raised in the air as she did so, but she didn't think much of it as she closed up the tent, and turned back around to lay down next to her son. Softly smiling up at him, not realizing just how troubling his erection got...

His father would be returning soon, and then space would get even more limited! He needed to make a decision, fast.