Bone Hunter IV by Sin Titulo
I begged Hasem to let me finish the cradling of the bones, so I could make arraignments to have them shipped to Philadelphia so the experts could begin the long and arduous process of separating fossilized bone from stone matrix. The size of the fossil indicated that the process could take years. I was anxious to get it in progress, so that I could begin work on my paper announcing it to the world. First, the article would be published as a scientific paper with a select readership of people who would understand the significance of the find, and perhaps be able to contribute something to the understanding of the differences I already saw in the bones. The second piece I'd write would be for the mass readership of Natural History or perhaps Nature magazines. There might also be a photographic essay later to be published in National Geographic.
Hasem advised me that he probably could not supply men from the tribe due to the period of mourning imposed by islamic law for his father. However, he thought he might be able to inveigle the government to send some men from Marrakech to assist in the project.
He seemed to understand my need to get the details handled to prevent anything going askew before the culmination of my project. He said he'd do his best, and left me and the boy standing in the sand watching him ride away on his camel vanishing into the velvet starry night.
I sat for a long time watching the heavens reel above my head, lying on my sleeping bag, which I'd arranged on the sand in front of my tent. Many thought passed through my head, but I found myself again and again drifting back to the boy, and what I was going to do with him. He sat hunched on his heels watching me in the darkness silent but attentive. I realized that if I stirred even momentarily, he would rise to his full height as if anticipating something I might want. Finally, I told him to go to sleep. It must have been approaching midnight, when he waded through the sand to his pile of rags. In the moonless darkness, I couldn't see him, but after a few minutes, I thought I could hear him huffing and moaning quietly and thought he was crying.
Raising up on my elbow, I spoke lowly to him asking if he was ill. The gentle sobbing stopped instantly, and after a moment, I felt his hand on my leg. He's come to me so silently through the sand that I hadn't heard anything at all. I sat up, and put out my hand, feeling for his head but instead of hair, encountered his bare shoulder. He sighed, and lowered himself in the sand next to my makeshift bed. He put out his hands, and gently passed them over my face and body feeling of me through my clothes in every part. I found myself beginning to get hard, and my breathing was coming in labored gasps. He leaned over me and I felt him put pressure on my chest with both his hands, and then quickly place himself astride my body. My hands involuntarily went to his hips, and found them warm and full of naked life. His erection was rising between his thighs hidden from my sight, but not my touch. Heat radiated from him and washed over me causing me to break into a sweat. My own hardness pressured his naked buttocks, and I felt him rocking gently over me, my clothing causing friction and a kind of sexual energy that seemed to put off sparks of light into the velvet darkness. I wanted to be naked with him on the sand.
I released his softly pulsing body and began trying to remove my shirt. My fingers fumbled with buttons that seemed to take on a life of their own refusing to do my bidding. The boy realized what I was doing, having passed his soft warm hands over mine, and with a tug, pushed my hands away and began to work on the recalcitrant buttons himself. Finished, he spread my shirt open exposing my chest to the coolness of the night. My nipples were both standing erect both from the friction of his touch, and the sudden coolness of the air. He passed his gentle fingers over them, and send a thrill of pleasure shivering through my body. Who ever had taught this boy about sex with men, had been a master teacher.
He raised his torso up on his legs and I felt him attack my belt buckle. In the dark, I tried to help by relaxing my body as much as I could manage, and felt him finally tug my pants down around my knees. I wanted them off, and spoke in a husky voiced whisper for him to take my boots off and make me naked. He wasted not a second before he had me lying on my bag totally nude, and holding my hardon in a tight fist. He felt his way back to my body, and finding the tower of my flesh, he attacked it with gusto, sliding his tongueless mouth down to where his wet lips encountered my fist. He had a good four inches of me inside his mouth. He played on my shaft with his teeth lightly, while his fluttering fingers roamed around my sensitive groin area. I sighed, and let go of my hardness, and went back to holding his slowly rotating hips. He had started a soft sucking on my shaft, and I felt my toes begin to curl involuntarily.
My breathing became labored, and my chest was heaving. I felt myself rising to his occasion, and just as my nuts pulled up tight getting ready to blast his tonsils, he grabbed my twin nips, and with a moan, twisted hard, sending a wave of agony and pleasure through me as I sprayed and humped my jism deep into his throat.
When he finally came up off me, he was gasping for air himself, and as he released me from his mouth, he let my still hard cock fall across my stomach with a wet slap. He lay down across my torso, with his sweat moist body, and laid his head on my shoulder. I put a hand on his head, and stroked my callused fingers through his invisible hair. He moaned softly and adjusted the lie of his own torso on mine, and began to make little nursing sounds as he nibbled and sucked my neck and earlobe.
I could feel his hardness pressed into my own slightly softened cock. He was so hard, it felt like I had an iron bar pressing into my flesh. I whispered to him that I wanted him to use his hardness on my hole. I felt him shudder in my arms, and he stopped nibbling and sucking my neck to raise up on his hands.
I felt him slip off me and lift my legs with his strong arms. It took but a moment, before I felt his flaring cockhead pressuring my sphincter. I relaxed, and felt him smearing saliva across my tightness. Once he was in position, he pushed into me without resistance, and I felt full and complete once again. I tried to relax my chest to breathe evenly to fill my restricted lungs with as much of the sweet desert air as possible. Once adjusted to his size, we began to rock in unison slowly at first, but gradually picking up the insistent motion. I love having a big cock shoving into my gut and then withdrawing to leave an emptiness that would soon be refilled. How something I'd had no inkling of just a few weeks earlier, could become so central to my being a complete and happy man was unexplainable.
As I lay there, with him pressed tightly against me, I tried to remember if I'd ever had homosexual leanings before I met Hasem. Nothing came to mind, and we seemed to melt together with our loving motion sending us both to the heavens of ecstasy. When he began to thrust more urgently into my body, I could feel him beginning to reach his edge. For some inexplicable reason, his impending release had an effect on me, and I felt my nuts tightening in their sack preparing to cum along with his climax. He grunted in my ear, and I felt him go rigid in my hole, and then begin a thrumming pulse that sent shivers through the both of us as we came in unison. The darkness and the soft night, worked their magic on our tired bodies, and we cuddled with each other drifting across the starry sky in and out of sleep.
Sometime before dawn, I awoke with him sobbing softly on my shoulder again. I stroked his hair, and he turned his tongueless mouth to my ear, and I felt his breath warm on my lobe, and knew he was awake. We lay there in silence watching the sky overhead turn softly from the velvet black of night, to the peaches and cream of early dawn. We rose together, both sporting piss hardons, and made our way to the latrine hole behind the tent. I held him and he mine, and as the hardness left our members, we stood there filling the pit with foaming urine, laughing as the streams crossed and warred with each other. He finished first, and dropped to his knees and took what remained of mine into his mouth, swallowing slowly, savoring the flavor.
The thought swept through my mind that I wanted to try his. When I finished, he rose up on his legs, and I slipped to my knees and engulfed his glans. I sucked the softness, driving my tongue beneath his foreskin, tasting the acid bite of his fresh urine trapped there. He sighed, and began to grow hard again. As his shaft lengthened I began to let it slide across my tongue and down my throat tasting the dried essence of my own juices from the night before. My head seemed to spin in delirium, and I began to suck more forcefully. His hardness expanding and beginning to hump my face with some energy. His large dark hands found my head, and before I knew what was happening, he was deep into a serious fuck of my throat. I could do nothing but relax into the thrusting. I felt used and even abused, but beneath it all, I felt like I had been waiting for it for all of my life. When he came, he pulled out and sprayed his hot sticky cum across my upraised face. The stinging ropes lashed across my nose and cheeks, hanging loosely from my closed eyelashes, until he finally had given all he could. Then without wasting a moment, he dropped down beside me, and began sucking the strings of his own essence off my face. I knew if he'd had a tongue, he'd have gently cleaned me with it.
Over Arab coffee he'd made, we sat and stared silently at each other. I had no idea what he was thinking, but my mind was going over what Hasem had told me about my relationship with the boy would be from now on. I sipped the dark sweet brew, and wondered what his name was. Even though Hasem had said I could call him what I wished, I felt that if he had a name his family had given him it would be inappropriate for me to call him something new. I puzzled over how I could figure it out.
As the sun rose toward the eight AM point in the clear blue sky, I spoke to him telling him that I wanted to go to the dig site to check it out. He stood immediately, and shouldered my back pack. I tried to take it from him, but he resisted, so it was just easier to let him carry the load. As we set out for the dig, he strode out ahead of me as if he knew where we were going. To my knowledge, he had not seen the dig site. But after a few minutes walking, it was clear he was headed there unerringly. I wondered how he knew as we approached the site, he speeded up his pace, and I trotted along behind him marveling at how his graceful movements carried him across the shifting sands of the dunes that made up the ancient shoreline of the vanished sea.
At the dig site, He sat on a stone outcrop encrusted with mollusk sea-life from the ancient seabed, and examined the small shells and fronds in the stone, while I did a careful examination of the larger skeleton of the Plesiosaur. Everything seemed to be in order and most of the big seagoing lizard had already been encased in plaster casts and lay scattered like huge flakes of white plaster across the ancient island. I estimated that if Hasem could get me six good men from the government, I could be ready to ship the plaster encased bones in another two weeks.
About mid day, the boy stood suddenly, and ran to where I was bent over a still exposed bit of bone, and jerked on my sleeve. I looked up, and he made motions, I couldn't interpret, and without pointing, which is considered ultimately rude in Arab culture, he looked intently out across the white salt glare of the seabed. I looked where he was looking, but could see nothing but the distant expanse of dunes that marked the shoreline. As I looked, gradually I noticed a thin veil of dust rising against the stark blue backdrop of sky. I pointed, and he immediately pulled my hand down to my side. I looked at him and saw he was frightened again. His eyes wild in heir sockets rolling with fear. A fleck of foamy saliva had appeared at the corner of his mouth. He moaned with terror, and suddenly began whirling around like a dervish grabbing my equipment and stuffing it back into my pack. He shouldered the pack, and again tugging at my sleeve, urged me back toward my camp. I shrugged, and being nearly finished in any case with what I'd set my self to accomplish that morning, I followed him.
He trotted faster and faster, until he was nearly running, he'd get several yards ahead of me before turning and using both hands motion me to hurry. We reached the camp in about ten minutes, and he pulled off my pack, and se about burying his mound of dirty rags in the nearest dune. He used a bit of canvas I used to cover things with when the wind blew to smooth the sand over his cash. When he'd finished, he ducked into the tent, and when I slipped through the flap, he was nowhere to be found. I looked under the cot, and in the knee hole of my makeshift desk. Nothing. He'd vanished. I went back out and looked for footprints that might indicate he'd lifted the back edge of the tent and gone off across the desert, but nothing of the kind was present. He still had to be inside my tent.
I glanced at the horizon and saw the dust had grown more distinct and much closer. I sat in my chair, my eyes shaded by the big felt fedora I liked to wear in the heat of the day, and watched as tiny dark specks suddenly appeared at the top of a distant dune. The three specks paused monetarily on the dune lip, but then vanished behind the dune in front as they came on toward my camp.
I poured myself a couple of fingers of Scotch, and waited for the riders to arrive. It took the better part of an hour, before I could make out the flowing black robes and stately camels of three Tuareg men. These were the so called blue men of the Sahara. Their dark robes were dyed with the murex mollusk, in use in this part of the world since before the Egyptian civilization had arisen five thousand years before. The sweat of their bodies, leached color out of the darkly dyed cloth their robes were made of, and in the mix, turned their skin a rich violet blue. As they approached, I could see they all held ancient muzzle loading firearms in their crossed arms. None of the three were bothering to hold the reigns of their beasts, but instead were guiding the wooly camels with knee pressures and clicking sounds with their tongues.
They brought their camels to a stop in unison, and using the strange clicking sounds, the three beasts dropped to their knees, and the three tall thin and very blue men stepped off their backs into the sand without taking their curious eyes off me once. They stepped forward and as a team of dancers, dropped to the typical Arab hunker facing me. This was a clear indication that they expected a show of hospitality. I got out of my chair, and went to my evaporating water bag. The evaporation process kept it a little cooler than it was in the plastic bottles I'd had shipped it in allowed. I offered them the water, and, as one they fished in their dark robes and withdrew small bowls which they held out to me. I filled them from my water bag, being careful not to spill. Water to these people was precious, and spilling might not be considered sane in their eyes. The all supped their drink noisily, in the Arab manner, to show that it was appreciated. They'd never utter a word of thanks, but their slurping sounds was considered thanks enough.
Once the water ritual was completed, they sat hunkered for several minutes unmoving except for their eyes which roamed over every inch of the camp. I was beginning to think they were casing the joint when the man in the middle spoke in clear Arabic. He asked point blank where the other man was. I told him the truth that I didn't know, that he'd vanished like a Djinn when he's seen their dust coming. This information seemed to upset them. They conferred in undertones for a bit before falling silent again. They seemed a little less at home since I'd told them the boy had vanished.
"Do you know this Djinn well?" The same man spoke.
"I didn't say he was a Djinn. I said he vanished like a Djinn. But I have only known him two days. He came to my camp."
"Why do you keep a Djinn? They are wicked beings."
"I told you. . ."
"If you keep a Djinn, you will find one-day that he has taken your soul." His interruption was preemptive. I fell silent, wondering what these men wanted. After a long silence, the man in the middle spoke again. "We have tracked this Djinn for several months. He is very wicked. He has taken the souls of two men of our tribe."
"How so? Did he kill them?" The three shook their heads in unison. They were silent for a while before the one on the left decided to speak.
"He did womanly things to them. They have lost the way of men." They all three watched me carefully for a reaction. I tried to remain calm. Maybe this is why the boy was frightened of other Arabs.
"What sort of womanly things did this Djinn do to your men?" They looked at each other with sidelong glances. It seemed like a long time before the one on the left spoke again.
"He used his penis on them like they were whores."
"And this makes him a Djinn?"
"How else can you understand why strong men with wives and families would allow themselves to be used like whores?" I almost laughed.
"I tell you this man you seek, is no Djinn. He may have the power to vanish, but it is not magic. An I can also tell you that if he treated two of your tribe's men like whores, it is because they wished it.
This man is but a boy." They bored holes in me with their eyes while I spoke.
"A boy who is capable of turning two grown men into women so that now they have lost interest in their wives, and spend their time closed away in a tent practicing what the Djinn has taught them. . ."
"I'd say these men wanted the boy to show them what he knows."
"Bash Raah!" The man in the center almost shouted. An Arab curse if I ever heard one.
"These men were strong warriors. Tuareg men do not practice the ways of women unless a Djinn has worked his magic on them."
"There are no Tuaregs born into this manner?" They were silent again. Watching me closely. They obviously didn't like the way the conversation was going. "Well?"
"If they are, when it is discovered, they are ostracized. We do not permit it." The one in the center spoke.
"And what happens to the two whom you say have been turned this way by this boy Djinn?"
"Nothing. They have reached their majority, and are full members of the tribe. It is not possible to remove them without death. Since they have chosen to go this road, we will tolerate them until their old age takes them to Allah."
"So why do you seek this boy Djinn?"
"Since he is a Djinn, we will kill him if we can. It will prevent him from making others this way."
"He is very powerful; this boy Djinn." I decided to play on their superstitions.
"So he is a Djinn as we suspect." I nodded.
"I have seen him make a whole pool of wriggling fish vanish."
"What did he do with them?" I pointed to my mouth.
"He made them liquid like water, and sucked them into his mouth." The three gasped. "I have also seen him make the night turn from blackness to dawn with the blink of an eye." The three moaned a little sound. "This boy is more powerful than the Tuareg people. This is why he could make women of two brave men so easily." The man in the center had broken a sweat around his partially covered face. He dropped his veil, and exposed a mouth missing several teeth. He grimaced, making his mouth even more hideous.
"I advise you to return to your tribe, and leave this boy Djinn alone before he has his way with all of you as well." They gasped, obviously having never thought that the tables might turn.
They stood, and as one, remounted their camels, who had been resting patiently chewing their foul cud while we talked. "Tell me efendi," the one in the center leaned over and addressed me. "How have you protected yourself from this Djinn if he has been with you for two days?" I thought for a moment and remembered something Hasem had left with me.
"I have a magic powder that protects me from the Djinn." I went to my pantry trunk, and found the small tin of red powder Hasem had said was purely a powdered pepper. I opened the lid, and handed it up to the man in the canter. He examined it carefully, sniffing.
"Take a pinch and place it under your tongue. It will keep you safe until you return to your tribe. No Djinn can cross this magic. It is very powerful." He did as I instructed, and I could see the sweat break out anew on his face. The pepper was potent. He handed it to me trying hard to control himself. I handed the container to the man on the left, and he too took a pinch. The third man also did the same. Their faces a mask of cool but I knew their mouths had been set on fire by the pepper powder. I pretended to take a pinch for myself but actually held nothing in my fingers. I dropped the invisible pepper under my tongue, and closed the lid.
The three whirled their beasts, and trotted off in the direction from which they'd come. I watched until they had become mere specks on the horizon, before turning back to the tent. I called the boy, but got no response. I looked in the tent, but it was still empty of life. I poked around my belongings for several minutes wondering what could have become of him. Under my sleeping bag, I uncovered a curious old bottle with Arabic writing around the lip.
"No it couldn't be," I said to myself. But I couldn't resist rubbing the bottle a little. Almost at the same instant, there was a timid scratching at my tent flap. When I threw it open, the boy was standing there still frightened out of his wits. He was covered with sand that had stuck to his sweaty body. His beautiful hennaed hair was dusty and gritty. I took him in my arms, and felt him relax. We stood like that for a long time. Finally, I pushed him away, and looked into his hazel eyes. "Maybe you are a Djinn," I said in English. "My own Djinn." I kissed his cheek, and then his lips. He seemed to meld against me.
email: sintitulo2@yahoo.com