Catfish Takes a Vacation
Part 8
By Bald Hairy Man
This is a sexual fantasy with no effort made at real life experiences. If you object to gay fiction, DO NOT READ. This story is not for you. To get some background on this part of the story you can read Expedition, an earlier story. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymen@aol.com.
I was getting to like Randy. He was young and healthy, about 5' - 6" and about 160 pounds, muscular, but not buffed. He had dark-brown hair which he wore long. Randy had a slightly droopy mustache, a full beard and clear blue eyes. He had a patch of silky hair in the middle of his chest and a treasure trail to his bush. Drooping from the bush was a cut, thin and long cock.
Young guys don't turn me on, but I am willing to make exceptions. He was smart, strong and willing to help. Randy wasn't too sophisticated in the ways of the world, and didn't know shit about himself, but he was a fast learner. I liked that.
Pedro and Sean were finds too. They lived on the edge, but if they had a chance to make money honestly, they'd take it. They were as good as you could expect in this situation.
The next day we went further south into jungle like areas. The ratio of Indian to European ancestry slipped in the Mayan direction. I am good about judging Anglo-Saxon Red Necks, but Indians were outside my expertise. Pedro was good at it. He could tell the good from the bad and knew a bullshit artist when he found one. He had some small time suppliers in villages who sold souvenir quality antiquities.
I bought a few pots, but it was clear there were no big time operators here. We drove further south to a bigger town. There, we stayed in a small, by no means respectable hotel. For some reason, I woke at four in the morning and went to the window. The moon was full and I could see clearly. Pedro and Sean were hightailing it out of town in the Bronco. It took me thirty seconds to realize I was in deep shit.
I woke Randy, we grabbed some clothes and shoved them into our back pack. We went out a window onto a roof, then jumped to the ground. We ran to the jungle and vanished into the dense vegetation. We got three or four miles into the jungle by dawn. In the distance I could hear gunshots.
Someone was after me and I was pretty sure they thought I had the Sumerian Statue. Someone had sent it to the wrong place and had to get it back. The Gringo "art collector" was an obvious suspect. I told Randy he might better go off on his own. No one in Mexico City knew about him. He asked me what was up and I gave him the run down.
Randy said he'd stay. He had been trained for jungle survival in the army and thought he could help. I was glad he was staying with me. I liked him and was getting to like him more, the longer I knew him. We decided to head east toward the Yucatan. I figured the smugglers would guess I was heading back to Mexico City. I had a road map in my back pack and we made our way toward the Gulf of Mexico.
I'm a hardy guy, but off the beaten track in Mexico can be wild and it was hard work hacking our way through the vegetation. The small Indian villages were straight from the National Geographic. The small bands of bandits, drug runners and maybe guerillas were straight from Soldier of Fortune Magazine. More through good luck than planning we avoided the bad guys.
Randy was good at getting around in the jungle. The U.S. Army had trained him well and he knew how to pass through an area without leaving a trail. I wasn't anywhere as good as him, but I learn fast. One nice thing about Randy is you never need to tell him something twice. Randy discovered the same thing about me.
"You learn fast, Catfish," he said.
"Trying to escape from a bunch of thugs who want to kill you concentrates the mind," I said. He chuckled. Randy never raised his voice. When you are on the run, you control everything. We walked Indian style and took advantage of every stream and rocky area to hide our trail completely.
Things were going well and I was feeling good about things when we found ourselves in big trouble. We came to a small town, stopped at a restaurant and got some food. It was good. Someone at the restaurant saw one of the Mayan artifacts in my back pack and when we tried to leave we were accosted by some Federales and a bunch of very unhappy Indians.
No one spoke English and the Spanish dialect was too far from standard for Randy to understand. We tried to buy our way out, but they didn't seem to be interested. Things weren't good, but they turned worse. The Federales left and we were tied up and carried off by the Indians. They carried us into the jungle and I was afraid our goose was cooked.
When they stopped, we were tied to a stake in the middle of a big, thatched hut. The Indians left. They hadn't exactly beaten us up, but they were none too gentle either. We weren't fed, it got dark and we couldn't get out of the bonds which tied us to the stake. Later that night there was a commotion outside. I could see lights.
The Indians were talking loudly. Several men came into the hut. The flashed a light in Randy's face, said something in Spanish, then came to me. I was blinded by the light.
"Senor Catfish, what in hell are you doing here?" a familiar voice said. I couldn't place it at first.
"Roberto?" he shined the light in his face. It was Roberto. "Boy am I glad to see you." Roberto gave some instructions in Spanish and we were released.
Roberto was a millionaire who had been sponsoring an excavation at Santa Maria Espagnosia. This was a major Mayan city. He was developing as a historic site and center for tourism. His hope was to revitalize this poor part of Mexico with the development of the area. I had visited there several years earlier and helped with the work. With some friends I had been part of what Roberto had called the Terrible Trio. Clyde, Wilbur and I weren't lookers but we were really good at digging.
With Roberto were the Commandante and Pedro. This wasn't our former guide, Pedro, but a Mayan Chieftain who ruled the Indians of the region. Pedro always looked like a droopy eyed peasant, but was sharp as a tack. My cock stiffened when I realized who the men were. There had been some wild sex with the Indians and the Commandante
I explained our predicament. Roberto knew my contacts in /Mexico City and had heard about the murders there. He had no idea the Sumerian statue was at the heart of the events. He explained it all to Pedro and he went out to the Indians. A few minutes later Pedro returned with the leader of the Indian band. The man looked embarrassed and said something in Spanish.
Randy replied to them. I had no idea what he said, but the Indian and Pedro smiled and relaxed. Whatever he had said sat well with them and the atmosphere lightened considerably. We all shook hands. All misunderstandings were resolved and we established friendship.
We all left the hut and went through the jungle to another small village. We ate a good meal and went to sleep, surrounded by our former captors, who were now protecting us. I slept like a baby. I knew Pedro and his tribe. We were safe.
I woke at noon. I had no idea I was that tired. Randy was still sleeping. The Commandante came by in the afternoon and said he wanted us to lay low. The Federal Police were on the trail of the men who had been after us. While most of those after me were Mexican bandito types, there was a European with them. The suspicion was this man was a Russian. If they could get him, they would have a link to the organization.
"By the way, Pedro's planning a welcome back party," the Commandante said. "You made an impression on them when you were here three years ago."
"You're kidding? Is it my sparkling personality?"
"Not at all. They call you the Monkey with the Donkey dong. That's not quite an exact translation, but it's close." he said. I laughed.
"If you don't mind, I might like the join in. I seem to remember having a good time," the Commandante asked. "I have a new man on the force who would like to meet you too."
"He's interested in my mind?"
"He sure is, all ten or eleven inches of it." he replied. "I'll be back later for the festivities." We were standing in the center of the cluster of thatched huts. As the Commandante left, Randy came out. He finally got up.
"How long did I sleep?" he asked groggily.
"It's well after noon now. I'd guess you slept a good 12 to14 hours," I said. I told him about the Commandante's plan and about the party. I told him about the tribe and the tribal traditions.
"You've noticed we're in the middle of nowhere," I explained. "The Indians here are direct descendants of the ancient Mayans and they've maintained some ancient traditions and ceremonials."
"Are we talking about human sacrifice?" Randy asked.
"Well, that's a yes and no situation."
"Since you seem to be relaxed about that, I assume it's more no than yes?" Randy asked.
"In fact it's a lot more no. I spent some time with archeologists here. The Mayans believed human blood was necessary to satisfy the gods. It had to be fresh blood spilled by a still living sacrifice. This tribe just substituted cum for blood. They figured man seed was as good as men's blood," I explained.
"That sure makes sense to me and it's a lot easier on the sacrifices," Randy observed.
"This tribe also discovered getting cum out of the balls could be fun too," I continued. "Some of the Mayans believed the more pain a human sacrifice felt, the happier the gods would be. Pedro's tribe figured the more man-to-man fun you had coaxing the scuz from your balls, the better it would be. The tribe was right about that."
"Are you kidding about this?" Randy asked.
"Not one little bit."I replied. "If anything, it's more strange and fun than I've described it. It's half anthropological oddity, half gay porn fantasy."
"I'm not too sure about this. Maybe I should take a rain check," Randy said. "I've never done anything that approaches what you have described. It sounds like an orgy."
"There's nothing wrong with an orgy in my book, but this is something completely different. One of the archaeologists explained it to me. To the Indians the gods make the earth fertile so crops will grow. In thanksgiving for this gift, we give the earth our seed. Whether they are imitating the god's creative act with their own orgasms, or the seed itself is the gift, the archaeologist wasn't sure."
"That sounds a bit far fetched to me," Randy said.
"When you think about it there is some basic logic. The only way we can create new life is through sex and intercourse. They know cum is the male contribution to the creative act. The only way you can get cum out of the balls is with an orgasm," I said. "They think when you give your cum to your friends and to the earth you are giving away the most precious part of your body, the only part which can create new life." I said. "That's the way the archaeologists explained it. To tell you the truth, for some of the men it was an obligation. Others like it for more selfish reasons."
Randy laughed. "Which group were you in?"
"If my orgasm can help make the world go round, I'm all for it!" I replied. One of the Indians who had captured us came bu and motioned for us to follow him. He took us to a concrete block building with metal roof. This wasn't a shack or a shed. It was a real building.
The Indian unlocked the door and we went inside. This was a treasure house of Mayan ceramics. Every pot was of museum quality. The Indian's name was Sebastian he had a strong accent, but Randy was able to talk with him if he talked slowly. These were pots they had captured from looters, or bought from locals. Roberto played for objects the Indians found and paid extra if the told him where they found it. This was both good for the Indians and helped the archaeologists find additional sites.
Sebastian then took us on a tour of the area. There were several ruins which I recognized as related to those of Santa Maria Espagnosia. They were much smaller, but were in the same style. The ruins were just mounds of earth, but where some excavation had taken place the stone work and cravings were visible.
Randy wasn't much on the pots, but he liked the ruins. We all had machetes so we cleared some of the growth away. Randy uncovered a mask of a god and he was hooked. Sebastian had a small spade with him and we spent the next few hours clearing and digging. The mask was actually part of a headdress of a large stone stele. Randy may not have been interested in archaeology when we started but he had hit pay dirt on his first try.
When we got back to the village we were about as dirty and sweaty and men could be. Sebastian took us to a stream where we cleaned up and swam some. Randy was a good swimmer as was Sebastian so they had some impromptu races. When the young Indian doffed his baggy clothes, he revealed a solid, muscular body. He was hairless except for his pitch black pubic bush, and was well hung. I noticed Randy looking him over. He liked what he saw.
Pedro and several other men appeared and joined us in the water. Other men arrived and put up a large tent. They also had brought food and drink with them, so we settled down for a pleasant evening. No one dressed after the swim. We sat around in the tent, naked, eating and drinking. I remembered the drink from my visit of several years earlier. It was mildly alcoholic, but it contained an effective herbal aphrodisiac.
After our conversation of earlier in the day, I knew Randy was a bit uneasy about the sexual aspect of the tribe's social life. He was sitting with Sebastian and another young Indian and I knew he wasn't going to have any trouble at all.
It was almost dark when the Commandante arrived with another officer. They stripped, cleaned off in the stream and joined us. He introduced me to the officer, Karl Rheinpaltz. He was an expert in antiquities associated with the police. Karl had a shaved head and was clean shaven, with well-tanned skin. He was covered with a thick coat of golden blond body hair. His cock seemed to consist of a huge cockhead wrapped in a thick skin. The balls were hidden in a thicket of gold hair.
I knew why he was with the Commandante. The tribe worshiped a bear god, and Karl's burly and hirsute body was exactly what the tribe saw as divine. He would be the ideal man to get the trust of the tribe. He spoke good English with a strongly Spanish accent. He was bluff and out going.
Karl and the Commandante chugged the drinks and sat down with Pedro and me. Karl was obviously interested in my cock and not at all embarrassed to show his interest. I glanced over at Randy and saw he was sucking Sebastian's cock while the other Indian was nursing on his. All was well there, so I turned my attention to Karl.
It took a while to get to Karl. Pedro and his friends had plans for me. I noticed they had plans for Karl too. I'm not sure but it seemed to me three young boys had a contest to see which one could deep throat me. I was almost smothered in Indian cock as the jockeyed for a good position to get at my cock.
None of them got very far. All were small, and I was taller than them. It wasn't my cock's length that was a problem; it was the diameter. They didn't achieve their goal, but they weren't disappointed either. They were all hard and oozing. Whenever a cock got within range, I sucked it. Two of the boys had hair triggers, so I got both the appetizer and the main course withing a minute or two.
Both had a spectacular series of ejaculations, the kind that tickles your tongue when it shoots against it. I enjoyed the boys' throbbing cocks, but not half as much as they. The third boy took some time. He was the smallest of the three, but was the most muscular had the biggest cock. He had a nice cock head, it as the size a big California strawberry and had a wide slit, which flowed with pre cum. I got my tongue deep into his shaft.
When he finally shot, he tried to pull out, but I didn't let him. I could tell his cock head was ultra sensitive during the orgasm, so I didn't suck it hard. I just kept it in my mouth and licked the underside of the head when it seemed as if he was done. By the time I was finished with him, his balls were empty.
The Commandante came over to me and whispered in my ear, "Senor Catfish, do you see that man in the corner?" He pointed to an older man who was standing in a corner, looking lost. He was short, with a white beard. He was more Spanish than Mayan. "Jorge was one of my men. He was under cover and someone betrayed him. The bandits got him and beat him up badly. There is some brain damage. The Mayans aren't too sure about that. They think it's sign of divine disfavor. Do you think you could help him out?"
"Shit yes," I said. "We're all part of the same union! I wonder if you blond bear might be more helpful?"
"Karl will do his part. I've been hearing from some of the Indians about the monkey god with a monster cock," the Commandante said. "His wife died, he's been alone, you can help. His mind is fine. He can't talk well."
I went over to Jorge and stood next to him. Putting one arm around his shoulders, I cupped his genitals with the other. He looked surprised. He looked at my cock and smiled. As I fondled his balls, I realized he was better equipped than it first appeared. He dropped to his knees and sucked me.
As luck would have it, Jorge's throat and my cock were a near-perfect fit. One of the boys I had been playing with gasped as he saw Jorge take the whole thing. It just vanished in his mouth. It was odd, but I felt as if I was fucking him. Everything inside his mouth was soft, warm and welcoming.
The Commandante later told me, this was because he had lost all his teeth in the beating, and they had broken his jaw to boot. I wouldn't recommend this, but it made him a great cock sucker. Jorge and I had a great time. I tried to suck his cock, but he didn't want that. When I shot off, Jorge got what he wanted, a mouthful of my seed. He was a happy man.