Excavating a Monastery 7 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
Dieter was a top and as soon as he worked his oversized tool into my ass. I realized he was a professional top with the same level of professional skills he demonstrated as a security officer. I think I could have guessed that had I thought of him as a sex partner. I didn't expect his cock converted into a magic wand once his knob pushed through my sphincter.
I later thought his tool was one size too big for my ass. It turned into a prostate stimulator. Every movement sent shivers through me. As that happened, his cock also blocked my ability to ejaculate. I was trapped on the edge of an orgasm. He took his time and when he finally began to ejaculate, he pulled out slowly and his final squirt bathed my prostate in sperm. I began to shoot.
A second later, Mud nosed his cock into my cum filled ass. He had a curved member that massaged my prostate as he pushed deep. He began to shoot off as soon as his member was in me. He later told me my ass looked lonely when Dieter pulled out. Mud thought that sloppy seconds were too messy to enjoy until his cock was floating on a sea of Dieter's cum in my tight ass.
Mud wasn't a romantic and the three of us realized it was special. Eddie's cock served as a butt plug to trap Dieter and Mud's sperm in me until he could make his contribution. It was late and we all returned to our homes to sleep. That was a good choice since the next day was long and difficult. The Merlin people made their attack.
I assumed you would make a move at dawn. Dieter's professionals located some clusters of the Merlin group the night before. Eddie reported on others. The locals were not partial to strangers especially since they disturbed the sheep and puzzled the dogs. You don't find strangers in the meadows. Sadly, for the Merlin Believers, the dogs had standards.
In the BBC special, they took care to make sure there was no evidence of security at the site. The emphasis was on the high-tech trucks that carried finds to safety. By safety they meant vibration, temperature, and humidity control. The museums and universities that received the objects had elaborate security operations of their own. Apparently, the Merlin group thought they could just walk into the excavation.
The combination of the police and Alistair's security identified three groups interested in our site. There were the Merlin people, fortune hunters who hoped for a chance discovery and professional thieves. They hoped we had missed something. Roddy was miffed by the third group. When he excavated nothing was missed. The thieves were after gold and jewels. They were just as valuable in the Dark Ages as they are now. No one left them just lying around.
There were perhaps two hundred people who left London. A little more than half made it to Edinburgh in the evening. Some of the Merlin people had unreliable cars. They regrouped in Edinburgh and planned to march north to our site. It seemed they were unaware of Scotland's topography and weather, so they were unhappy with the chill summer breezes of Scotland.
There was a violent thunderstorm followed by heavy rain for six hours. They were a soaked and cold group that made it to twenty miles from the excavation. That was where the roads were narrow and in poor condition.
I didn't know it, but Alistair's security people had infiltrated the group. They had experience with save the whale groups. The entire event turned out to be a farce. A cold front came with heavy rain and near hurricane force winds. Dieter and Alistair's security people ended up saving the twenty to thirty people who tried to enter the site. They were relieved to be sent back to London.
Dieter and a part of his group stayed with us. They were afraid that others might attempt to get to the site. Alistair had no big threats on other sites, and his daughter was still working with us. Dieter stayed with our excavation.
Dieter was handsome, ultra-masculine and gay. He connected with some of our men. He didn't like messing with Alistair's other security men. He didn't mix business and pleasure. Our people didn't work for Alistair, so he was free to frolic.
I discovered that my linguistic skills were in high demand. While some of the books were in textbook Latin, or a version of Ecclesiastical Latin, others were in a Celtic-Latin combination with some Anglo-Saxon thrown in randomly. Magnus was good on Celtic languages, I was good with later Latin usage, and Little Dick was a specialist in Germanic languages. Unexpectedly Big Dick was useful. He spoke or understood a number of local dialects. Some of these contained fragments of older dialects.
The problem seemed to be the collapse of education in the 700-1,000 A.D. period. Typically, you learned to read a write at a monastery. Major monasteries had well educated clerics in charge. Smaller ones were semi-literate, and others were illiterate. They memorized the words in the bible without writing them.
Roger's photographs were essential since we could each work on our own copy and compare and coordinate. Since we were working in three languages, it was complicated. Luckily, we had similar work habits and mutual respect. The translating was complicated since there were many spelling errors and some errors related to mis-translating words to another language.
I assumed the main field work was mostly completed. We now had the main building of the monastery exposed. Mud was usually so disreputably dressed there was a tendency to underestimate his intelligence. Attention focused on Olivia, his excavation partner.
Mud was painfully shy with strangers, and he regarded Olivia as his protection against the public. He did want to be noticed. Olivia was important to the excavation since she insured her father maintained his interest in the project. She also had the perfect touch for fragile finds, and was intelligent, friendly, and articulate.
Mud was wandering to the north of the main excavation and found an unimpressive mound. He was perceptive. This mound was an oval shape. The outcroppings on the site were typically related to stone outcroppings. There were no stones in the middle of the oval. He then found an oval ring of stones around the mound. He came to me and asked to do a trial dig. We did a geophysical and radar survey, and we knew something was up. Our geophysical men mentioned "interesting anomalies." There were metal objects near the middle of the oval. All the non-rectangular buildings in the monastery were circular. Ovals were not used.
Mud, Olivia, Dieter and Big Dick began a careful excavation. Dieter has some spare time and he had become interested in the excavation. In the back of my mind, I considered a Viking ship burial, but we were at the top of a cliff. I didn't mention it because a ship burial was too improbable.
At the end of the first day, Mud found a slab inscribed with runes. It was a complete inscription, undamaged. I called Magnus who knew a specialist in Runes. The slab was encrusted in mud and Olivia was carefully cleaning it.
Up until now the only connection with Vikings were the bones and armaments of dead warriors. This suggested a more substantial connection. We had found no indication of Viking habitations, but it seemed as if there may have been a Viking boat burial there. We as yet didn't know if there was an actual boat or a symbolic boat. We assumed the boat burials were for men of the highest status. The complexity of the site was unexpected. We decided to keep the discovery secret until we knew what we had. With our problem with the Merlin people, we didn't need any run in with Neo-Vikings.
When Olivia finished cleaning the inscription at her house and she sent it to Magnus. Experts in Runes and their translation are few and rare. Apparently, they were on Magnus's auto dial. They were soon on the job.
We had a major front coming in and had a forecast of three days of continuous rain. I decided to send the field crew home to give them a rest from the work.
We also received new housing for the staff, reducing the use of the MacCall house and outbuildings. The new prefabricated housing was distinctly up scale. It was a prefabricated, modern marvel, heated, cooled, with full computer and other communication devices. There was a kitchen, bedrooms, a study, and an impressive bathroom with shower facilities. It was bright and cheerful.
It was a prototype for emergency housing developed by Skippy and Alistair. The two millionaires got along well. Alistair was driven to get thing done quickly. Skippy was imaginative and creative. Both men paid well and rewarded talented men and women. When Skippy saw the shell of the prefabricated unit, he knew exactly how to turn it into a modern marvel.
Mud, Big and Little Dick were there, and we had a guest room. Dieter joined us. The potential Viking burial excited him in a way that ancient, learned monks did not. Mud and Little Dick knew a great deal about the Vikings in Britain, and Dieter soaked up their information. Dieter looked like the traditional Vikings images. A tent was on the way to protect the burial site, but until then everyone was covered in mud.
The shower in our new housing was self-cleaning and used recycled the water. I figured our muddy crew would be the acid test. The muddy water was strained, filtered, and disinfected in minutes. I was shocked it worked so well.
After a good dinner and a few drinks, I wasn't entirely surprised when the excitement about the potential of the Viking burial transferred a more general celebration and the celebration found a home in our genitals. Everyone was excited and needed to sleep soundly before another day of hard work in the mud. A general exchange of sperm followed by sleep would be good.
Some cynical friends of mine had claimed that my belief in the health virtues of orgasms is self-serving and not scientifically sound. I have noted that a lengthy rectal massage by my cock in a mouth or mass inducing men to drain their balls works better than sleeping pills.
Dieter, Mud, Big and Little Dick and I are not entirely virginal. I also knew that men's lusts are not predictable. Dieter was attracted by Little Dick's oversized tool. Somehow, I was in the sixty-nine position with Big Dick and Mud's cock was frolicking in my ass. Nature took its course and Mud shot off, filling my ass with his cream.
Dieter was moaning as Little Dick slow fucked him. Little Dick was a perceptive and he apparently found the prefect was to fuck the blond Viking. Big Dick sucked me and entered my ass. Apparently, Big Dick's meaty cock and Mud's sperm deposits was a recipe for magic. It was perfect.
Most of us had shot off and were falling asleep when Dieter's phone alarm went off. There were intruders at Alistair's home. He got up and dressed.
"Horst is in charge of security there. Who ever is trying to get in will be sorry. Horst is a bad ass." Dieter said. His phone alarm went off a second time. Intruders were entering our area. They were identified by a drone. One of our drones had been shot down. Of course, the police were immediately informed. Dieter had ten men who were ready to act and he raced to his headquarters which was next to our new digs. The MacCalls were out with their dogs. The sheep were disturbed, and the dogs were trying to restore order and protect the sheep from predators. Dieter had told us to keep calm and inside in an "event." I had a computer feed from the headquarters. Dieter had said a drone had been shot down, but there was new drone footage showing the body heat from the intruders.
The intruders had fundamental misunderstanding of the drones. They thought that shooting one down hid their location. Skippy, our middle-aged boy genius had an enhanced drone that could identify when it was targeted and launched what Skippy called a Robin. The Robin was a miniature drone that ejected from the mother drone and continued recording the scene. It could only run for 20-30 minutes, but it sent essential information to the command center.
Dieter had up to the minute information as to the attackers' locations. I could also see the flock of frightened sheep, and dogs racing to their rescue doing what sheep dogs do, trying to corral the sheep. The MacCalls were on the way with their big dogs who usually were hunting predators.
Dieter liked dogs as did his men who were regular suppliers of treats for the sheep dogs. The dogs had a clear understanding of who the good guys were and who were the bad guys. Dieter's men took prisoners, but in some ways, they rescued intruders from the enraged dogs.
By the time police arrived all was calm and under control. Dieter's people had interrogated the men. I thought the attack was puzzling and stupid. There was nothing of material value on the site. All the valuable things were in museum vaults. This had been a spite attack. Someone powerful had a deep, obsessive dislike of Alistair. This attack was to embarrass him.
It was clear that the powerful person had mental problems. This was over the top and irrational. Apparently, the Merlin people had given them an excuse to be near the site. They provided a blanket under which they made their attack. It was bonkers.
We eventually discovered the men Dieter captured were after gold. They were unaware that the gold and jeweled items had been removed to vaults and well-guarded museums. This removal had been covered on live television broadcast nationally and distributed internationally almost immediately. It had been sensation.
The men who attacked the excavation faired better than the men who attacked Alistair's mansion. It was never clear how many men attacked the house. The police arrested four men. There may have been another ten who "escaped." Alistair called a friend, and there no mention of the other men. Neither attack was covered by the media.
Alistair's operations were extensive and international. From time to time his people heard things. I had a suspicion that persons in London, Paris and Berlin learned what Alistair's people heard. The only casualty we suffered was the death of an elderly Irish Wolfhound, Wee Boy. Wee Boy had caught an intruder and then died in his sleep the next morning. The MacCalls, Mud, Dieter's men and I dug a grave for Wee Boy.
Dieter and his men went for a post incident review, and he was replaced with Sandy Jones, a Texan, and his crew. They were used to warmer climates and Scotland was a shock to them. Their job had been protecting oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico, so an archaeological site was a big change. They came dressed for the Gulf. Olivia solved that problem by taking Sandy on a shopping trip.
They were outfitted with the local tweeds and heavy outer wear. Sandy was a bit resistant, but when he saw the price tags, he was fine. He told me later that he had bought his first car for less than the cost of an overcoat. Olivia was a beautiful, friendly girl, and the boss's daughter. Sandy's men got along well with the MacCalls and the livestock. There was a culture shock between the Texan's and the archaeological staff. The Texans thought the 1950s were ancient history. 900 A.D. was our specialty.
I was unhappy that Dieter was elsewhere, but I found out he was on the track of the men who planned the attack. Dieter was happy since he felt going after the head of a criminal organization was well suited for his expertise.
We determined our excavation was indeed a Viking Ship Burial, except for the lack of the boat. The Runes indicated it was for a Viking Chief, Horst, who wanted to be buried near the place where his father disappeared during a raid thirty years earlier. I assumed the body Olivia and Mud found in the ruins of the church was the father.
The Raid had been abandoned when the locals formed an army and were planning to counter-attack. After his father's death, Horst, who was fifteen, took charge and led his father's men though many dangers and brought them safely back to their homes. He became a great leader. Horst wanted to be buried in Scotland so he could be with his father.
I was working at the site when a boulder dislodged and trapped my foot. I was alone at the site with Little Dick who was unable to dislodge the boulder. Sandy walked by and helped to dislodge the boulder and free my foot. It was after a rain and Sandy slipped a few times into the muck.
We went to my lodging and showered. Sandy admired my shower with all of its filters and it's its effect on mud. Sandy noticed Little Dick's oversized cock as well a mine. His cock was long, thin, and was known as the snake. Of course, Little Dick and I would never look at another man's equipment.
Luckily, Sandy was not completely successful hiding his cock's interest. His erect cock caused a chain reaction.
Sandy looked at Little Dick and asked, "Is that a faucet or a plug?"
Little Dick laughed. "It's more like a Swiss Army Knife. It can do lots of things. If you are thirsty it can quench your thirst. If you have an itch in a hard-to-reach place, it can massage that place," he replied.
"Do you have a hair trigger?" Sandy asked.
"No, but when I shoot, it sometimes guys need to swallow to take all of the cream," Dick replied.
"I love the taste of man seed!" Sandy exclaimed.
A few minutes later both Little Dick and I discovered that Sandy loved sperm. Sandy was a Texas style, over sexed, cum hound. He wasn't gay, he just liked messing around with guys. Later I had a hard time explaining the difference to Little Dick. He decided the nearest English equivalent was the showers in a rugby team's locker Room.
Two days later Sandy came by with Harry and Dusty, two of his men. We all shared the same interests.