The heat was at the edge of being intolerable. The South Morrocan desert was making itself known as I had never known it to before. I was afraid to look at my themometer for fear of having a suggested heat stroke.
It had to be 120 degrees fharenheit, and not a stich of shade to be had. I removed my thick felt hat and wiped my sweaty brow with my already drenched shirtsleeve. I decided to head back to camp for some food, and a drink however warm the liquid might be.
I looked around at the shimmering horizon to orient myself, and noting my landmarks, struck off at a leasurly clip. The dust that my boots raised rose vertically into the sky the day was so airless. The long dry seabed I was traversing dated to the late Cretacious period, and I'd been three weeks combing its vastness for signs of fossles from that epoch to use in writing my Master's thesis at Penn State. So far I'd found nothing new or particdularly interesting.
Here and there across the plain stony outcrops that had once been small islands in the ancient sea jutted up from the pan, and I included as many as were feasable in my path back to camp. By the time I reached the third outcrop, I was panting from the heat and exertion of the walk. But as I curssorily glanced over the exposed rock of the ancient island, my breath began to come in gasps. My eyes, I thought, were deciving me. There, weathering out of the stone was a nearly perfectly preserved skull of the largest Pleaseusaur known to Paleontology. The skull was particularly complete, with dual rows of long razor sharp teeth grinning at me from its stony grave. My heart began to beat faster. The implication of this find was immeasurable in scientific circles. I could already see the seven foot long skull would alter several assumptions that had been made from previously discovered examples, that had been less than complete.
My mind raced, and my already water depleted body broke into a clamy sweat.
I took another orienting shot in my mind so I wouldn't lose the site in the vast sameness of the landscape, and started toward my camp at as fast a trot as the heat woud allow. Topping the rise that had once been the shoreline of the ancient sea, I stopped dead in my tracks. My camp lay below me a few hundred feet, and tied to a tent stake, was a camel I didn't recognise. Cautious, I slowly made my way down to the tent. I cursed myself silently, for leaving my pistol in my sleeping bag that morning. I usually carried it for snakes, but having never seen one on the searing sands of the seabed, I'd decided to save the four pounds it added to my supply of water and other equipment.
As I approached the tent, I cleared my throat, and instantly a young man emerged from the tent looking embarassed. He was a dark skinned handsomly Semitic looking fellow in a flowing black jabbala. His head wrapped tightly in a scarlet burnoose. Tucked into his scarlet sash was the traditional Rino horn handled dagger. From these things I knew the man was of high status in one of the desert tribes.
He greeted me in Arabic dialect, and when he realized I hadn't understood, he corrected himself and spoke to me in a perfect oxford accented English.
"A thousand pardons sir. I was using your ample tent to rest while I awaited your return. I am Hasem, the eldest son of Shiek Omar who watches over this sector of the desert. He has sent me to see if he can be of any service to you in your search." I was flattered that the Shiek had taken notice of me. The official Morrocan government had given me the necessary permission to make my survey, and it hadn't occured to me that any additional permission might be necessary. I appologised to the Sheik's son, and told him I was but an ignorant American scientist looking for ancient bones in the seabed. He smiled.
"You don't have to speak to me like that. I have a degree in Philosophy from Oxford." He chuckled, and added: "I probably speak the language better than you."
"No doubt," I laughed.
"Shall I make some coffee?" He went to his camel, and began to remove some things from his saddle bags.
"Sounds good. By the way, my name is Danniel," I bent to light the camp stove for him. I then opened my box of provisions, and took out my jar of peanut butter, and some graham crackers. My intended lunch. I was willing to share it with Hasem if he cared for it.
"Yes," Hasem said, gathering the items he'd selected from his saddlebags, and striding toward me. "We had word of your coming from the government. My father expected you to pay a social visit, but when you didn't come in the expected time, he decided you may have forgotten your manners." He laughed again. His sparkling white teeth gleemed in his dark face. He set about pouring water into the pot to boil, using his own goat skin as his source. In the desert it was not done to use another person's water unless it was offered. I'd made another gaff by not offering mine.
"How long are you staying in our lands?" He began to laddle coffee powder and sugar into the simmering pot.
"Not much longer. I only had a month permit, and I've been here three weeks already." I sat down on my little camp stool, and began spreading peanut butter on a cracker. I offered it to him, and he took it gently, his hand brushing mine slightly as he did. He took a bite, and made an ever so slight face of disgust. He strode back to his camel, and rummaged in the saddlebags again, returning shortly with a small container with a screw top lid. He sat down in the sand cross legged, and unscrewed the lid. He offered me the jar. It contained a dry red powder.
"Try this on the peanut butter. It will improve the flavor immensly." I took a pinch and sprinkled it on the cracker and peanut butter. The first bite, nearly sent my head into the stratusphere. What ever the powder was, it had a mighty spicy kick, but he was right, the peanut butter tasted better with it, and the kick was tolerable after the initial surprise.
"That's great, what is it?" I was busy spreading more peanut butter on crackers.
"A mixture we use in the desert. It makes us sweat, and helps cool our bodies. Some say it is aphrodisical in nature. It is made from the wings of a certain beetle." He grinned as he poured the now settled coffee. He handed me a cup, and then sprinkled a generous helping of the powder on the cracker I offered him. He set the little container on the sand between us, and I sprinkled a like amount on my cracker, and took a bite. He handed me the small cup of coffee he'd made, and I took a sip of the strong sweet liquid. The combination was wonderful.
"Do you like it?" He smiled hopefully at me.
"Wonderful," I said, taking another sip. We sat in silence eating and sipping our coffee for a while. When we finished, he used sand to clean his cups and coffee pot, and then replaced everything in his saddlebags, and then returned to sit opposite me on the sand.
"Have you found what you are looking for?" His eyes were bright, glistening in his dark face. I felt myself flush for some unknown reason. He smiled again, observing me break into the predicted sweat.
"I have. I'll show you if you like. It isn't far."
"Perhaps later. Now we should let the magic of the powder do its work." I had a fleeting thought that he'd drugged me. What ever it was, the feelings I was beginning to experience were pleasant, if not hallucinogenic. They seemed to be centering on my groin, making an uncomfortable bulge that I was having trouble hiding.
"What was the powder?" I wiped the thin sweat off my brow with my shirtsleeve, and tried to adjust myself without Hasim noticing. He grinned again.
"It is an ancient formula my family has possessed for centuries. It is harmless, but not ineffective. How are you feeling?"
"A little sweaty."
"Nothing else?" His grin widened.
"like what?"
"Like here," he said, grabbing himself with his left hand. What he outlined under his Jabbala, was a massive hardon. I nearly swooned. I realized I thought him sexy.
"Yes," I stammered, "I do feel something there." I stood up, and adjusted my growing member through my jeans.
"You can free it if you want. I like to see the equipment of real men." He stood up in one fluid motion, his Jaballa swirling around him. He began untying his sash, and when done, carefully laid the daggar and scarlet cloth on the sand. He lifted the skirt of the garment like a woman lifting her dress to remove it over his head. He was wearing nothing under it. His dark ebony body was glistening with the sheen of sweat the powder had induced. His long thick cock was rigid with blood, but so heavy it hung at a downward angle from his body. His ballsack was smaller than I expected given the size of his dick, but they were passible, hanging heavy in his bag.
"Now you, if you don't mind." I stood up from my camp stool, and removed my hat first. My hair was plastered to my head with sweat, and I realized I must stink of the stuff from several days without the benifit of a bath.
"I smell." I said simply, admitting my shortcomings.
"All the better. The smell of a man working at what he loves." Hasem was fondling his cock with an ebony fist, and I could gage that he was carrying at least ten inches of hot flesh between his legs.
I pulled my shirt out of my pants, and began to unbutton it. I had a red handkerchif tight around my neck, which I couldnt undo easily. It was soaked with sweat as well. I removed my shirt, and he stepped closer to me, and ran a hand over my glistening chest.
He stooped and licked a long path accoss my two nipples with his impossibly long very pink tongue. I shivered. His hands began to work at releasing my belt. When he had suceeded, he pushed my Levis down exposing my boxer shorts, dark with sweat. He buried his face in the cleft of my thigh where it met my crotch, and inhaled deeply. I could feel him begin to suck the sweat from the cloth and the cleft with his tongue. After a moment, he switched sides, and repeted the process. I was never more sexually stimulated as at that moment. I wanted this man's body and I wanted it now.
I'd had some adolecent experiences with friends, jacking off together, and once had had a blowjob through a glory hole in a men's toilet in a rest stop on the Pennsylvania turnpike, but nothing serious had ever happened like this. I rubbed his glistening back and felt the sweat glide under my palm. He moaned in my crotch, and began to work my boxers down my legs. He continued his sniffing and licking as my flesh was exposed. I was now rock hard, and my full seven inches were beginning to drip precum.
I pulled him to his feet, and out of breath, motioned for him to come into my tent out of the sun. He followed, and we stood in the cooler greenish glow of the interior while he licked my body in every place he could reach with his long tongue. Finally, he turned me around, and fell to his knees behind me. He used a large hand on my back to gently push me into an "L" shape so he could get at my assole. His strong hands spread my cheeks, and his tongue lapped the rills of sweat trapped there, passing repetedly over my winking sphincter. I sighed and shivered again and again. This was something I'd often dreamed of, but never expected to experience. My fiancé, back in Philadelphia had trouble even touching my hard cock, and would never consent to such a "dirty" act as rimming my hole for me. Our sex was usually profunctory, and until now, it had been satisfactory to me, but I knew I had crossed some invisible line, and from now on heterosex was not going to be enough to keep me satisfied.
Hasem's incredible tongue was now probing as deep as he could force it into my hole. I did my best to relax the muscles to let him probe deeper, and finally, I laid my upper torso across my arms on my sleeping bag while he did his thing in my ass. He reamed me for twenty minutes or so, moaning with pleasure. Finally, he surfaced for air, and I turned over on my back to look at him. His face was smeared with spit, and a bit of something clung to his pink lower lip. He licked it away with his tongue as he reached for my rampant cock.
His head lowered onto me, and he swallowed me down his throat in one long movement. I groaned, and bucked into him, flooded with sensations I'd never hoped to experience. He began to swallow with his throat muscles tight around the head and three inches of my cock. I nearly shot off with the pleasure of it. After a minute of this, he began to hum in high singsong and the vibrations in his throat were sensational. It only took a moment for me to lose it and without control, I began to fill his throat with my cum. I humped his face hard as I shot stream after stream of hot spunk into him. He moaned in ecstacy around my shaft. I pumped and pumped what felt like a never ending stream of my essence into his hungry mouth. When he had taken all I had to offer, he finally raised up off my shrinking dick, and sat back on his haunches, his gleaming cock pointed directly at my face.
"That was wonderful. How did you like it," He asked. I caught my breath, and collapsed on my sleeping bag.
"Incredible Hasem. Where did you learn all that?"
"While I was at Oxford. Here it is forbidden. There, in England I had my choice of many men. They are more open to the ways of my kind."
"Well, it was wonderful. If you are gay, why do you stay on in Morrocco?"
"I have no choice. As I told you, I am the first son of Shiek Omar. I will eventually assume his place when he retires or dies. When I am Shiek, I will be able to choose my lovers, but until then, I must be married and produce sons one of which will follow me when it is my turn to die."
"And you have sons?"
"I do. Three so far. My family is pleased. It is only I who feels a longing in my loins. I am so glad you were open to my advances."
"Well, it was fun, but I think you drugged me with that powder, knowing I'd not be able to resist." He laughed.
"I'm sorry, but you did enjoy it didn't you?"
"So much you'll never probably know. I think you've ruined my life." He laughed again. I reached for my pants, but he stayed my hand.
"We are not finished my friend. You must still do for me what I most want from you." I looked at his still rampant cock, and shook my head.
"It's too big. I can never get that into my mouth. Besides, I am not gay. "
"It is not your mouth that I wish to use."
"Oh no! It is too large. It will tear me in two."
"Nonsence! I have prepared the way with my tongue. It is ready to accept me completely." He lifted my legs and placed them on his shoulders. I broke into another sweat, and began to tense up. I felt the head of his ramrod touch my hole, it slipped on the wetness he'd left there, and before I realized what had happened, he was pushing into my relaxed sphincter. I felt a fullness as he slid his monster cock into me, but little else at first. When he reached the bottom of his long slow thrust to my core. He sighed.
"I have dreamed of this for four years, since I left Oxford and returned to Morrocco." He humped out and then back into my hole. The feelings in my ass exploded with pleasure. I groaned. He began to move in ever increasing strokes, until he was fucking me as hard as I could have imagined being fucked^×not that I'd ever imagined myself in this position^×I was loving it.
As Hasem began to get close, his smooth movements in my butt, became more insistant, and less smooth. His breath came in gasps, and his large black hands played across my chest and stomach, stopping occassionally to tweak my nibs. He began pounding into me until I thought I'd faint with pleasure. Suddenly he stopped his thrusting, and with a gasp and a ragged sob, plunged into me to the hilt, and I felt his monster tool throbbing in my guts as he came, again and again.
Finally, he collapsed across my torso, and I realized I had cum again as well, and my sticky mess had glued us together.
We remained like that for some minutes, while he made little mewling sounds in my ears, licking first one and then the other. I felt the urge to lick and kiss his neck, but when I did, he shivered and his long soft cock slipped from my body. We both sighed at the loss of our connection. If this is what gay love was like, then perhaps I'd been laboring under the wrong impression. My image had been one of hetero disgust, but all that had fled under his onslaught. I knew I had to have more of what he had between his legs, and I wouldn't need to be drugged to get it again.
Hasem made another pot of coffee, and we talked into the night, and drank his strong brew. When the moon rose, he stood, and leaned over me and gently kissed me on the lips. He turned and strode to his camel that had been patiently waiting near the tent, and tapped the beast on the knee with his riding stick. The camel knelt in the sand, and in a single graceful bound, Hasem was sitting astride the animal.
"I will see you again in two days," he said, turning the camel to the north. "Be ready for me when I come.
We shall have a good time then." Before I knew what had happened, he was galloping away into the night.
The night was long, because I was too wired on the sex, Hasem's beauty, and his strong coffee, to sleep. I planned out how I would stake my bone find out and photograph it in situ. I was not equiped for a dig of this size, but with good photos, I was certain I could raise the necessary funds to do the job right. In any case, I knew I would be back in the desert as soon as I made a few calls to people willing to put up enough money to have their name attached to the find.
As dawn broke, I pumped up the camp stove and made a pot of coffee like I'd seen Hasem do, and as I drank it, I realized he hadn't been far from my thoughts all night. I also realized I hadn't had a single thought about my fiancé. I wondered briefly if it was a case of out of sight, out of mind, but decided that Hasem already meant more to me than Sheila back in Philadelphia. I was going to have to break up with her when I saw her again. She'd be hurt, but I suspected that it might also be a relief. I knew now that we were not meant for each other.
I spent the day photographing the visible bones of the Pleaseusaur, and making copious notes about how to best wrest it from its stony grave. That night, tired, bordering on exhaustion, I slept like a baby, dreaming of wild sex with a tall black man. When I tried to picture my lover's face, it wouldn't come to me, but several times in the night, I awoke with the feeling I had just experienced a fantastic climax. Each time I did, my stomach was covered with a gooey discharge.
The next day, with all my work on the Pleaseusaur finished for the moment, I sat around camp, drinking coffee and trying to compose my thoughts about what I was going to tell Sheila. About three in the afternoon, I heard a trilling sound to the north, and ran to the top of the dune. In the distance, I could see a tiny black and scarlet figure sitting atop a camel. I waved, and he raised both arms above his head, and prodded the camel in my direction. I started to run toward him, my feet sinking ankle deep in the hot sand, my body breaking into a sweat.
email: sintitulo2@yahoo.com