Date: Tue, 1 Aug 2017 21:41:55 -0500 From: John Marris Subject: Milkweed Island - Part 5 Disclaimer: Persons under 18 should stop reading now. This series depicts a tribal society in fictional world with social norms, and biological and ecological realities different from anything that exists in our world. Events and persons are completely fictional. This story belongs to the author. Do not copy, adapt or repost outside this website. The Nifty Archives have provided a venue for many years, however, this cannot be done for free. Please consider a donation: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. You can contact the author with feedback, encouragement and inspiration at blackstripe15@gmail.com. -Simal- Simal woke early that morning and snuck out, hoping to avoid his father and any chores. He walked the long path to the Chief's Village but took a shortcut near the outskirts to avoid being seen by any nosy busybodies. The road from the Chief's Village to the Eastern Village went through a swampy bog and the path was always muddy, even now, at the start of the dry season. At least the mosquitoes weren't so bad. The days task had him a little nervous and he chewed on milkweed to help settle his stomach. As he neared the Eastern Village he saw some men scooping up the rich pink clay that could only be found in this spot on the island, and that the villagers used to make the pottery that this village was famous for. The work was messy and the men had removed their loincloths to do it. Their sinewy arms and legs were caked in clay, and clay covered their cocks and pubic hair. They smiled a friendly smile as Simal passed and continued with their morning work. In the Eastern Village, Simal saw more smiles and greetings. He had been coming here a lot recently to see Nomi. He liked the people. They made him feel like he belonged. Near her hut, Nomi spotted Simal and ran up to hug him. The girl was beautiful, with pert breasts, long dark legs, and laughing eyes. Simal resisted the urge to kiss her. There were too many eyes watching and he wanted to maintain his reputation as a respectable young man. Besides, just Nomi's hug alone was enough to create an uncomfortable swelling in his loincloth. Nomi dragged him by his hand into the hut to greet her father. Simal had met the man before, but this was the first time he would openly express his intentions for his daughter. Nomi's father was sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth. The man was broad and fleshy, with long thick black hair pushed back and bright silver hair at his temples giving him a distinguished look. A kettle hung over a bed of embers, warming a bit of water. The man had a stern look on his face. Clearly, Nomi had prepared him for what Simal was about to say. "Ata," Simal said, using the man's proper name. "Thank you for seeing me this morning. I have something important to ask you. May I sit?" Ata nodded and Simal took his place by the hearth. "You know that I admire your family and you know that I have... grown close to your daughter," Simal stammered. "I like her very much, and..." "You hope to make her your wife," Ata boomed. The sudden sound made Simal jump backwards. For a moment he was terrified. Then the big man started to laugh. He had the same laughing eyes as Nomi. "Well my boy, that's all well and good but where does that leave her family? I'm a man of forty years with three beautiful daughters and a household that I have raised from nearly nothing. We have a kiln that fires pottery used all over the island. What happens to all that if I marry all of my girls off to other villages? I'm not as lucky as your father to have... how many is it?... five strapping boys." Simal anticipated this question. He and Nomi had discussed it in detail. Simal would ask Ata to adopt him into the family as his heir. It was not uncommon on the island, where small households were encouraged, for a family with only daughters to adopt a son-in-law as heir, provided that the boy's family had other potential heirs. Simal's family certainly had that. In fact, Simal figured that once his father got used to the idea, he would be relieved to name Pecha as his heir. Everyone loved Pecha more than him, Simal thought with a combination of annoyance and relief. Simal explained all this to Ata and promised to approach his father with the news when the time was right. "I wanted to ask you first, Ata, before mentioning it to anyone else." "Simal, my boy," the man rose and extended his muscled arms, "we would be happy to unite our families and call you our son." Simal embraced Ata, who was a few inches taller than him. The handsome man's thick torso, cool from the morning breeze, pressed against Simal, who was hot and sweaty with nerves. Simal got a close look at the man's graying temples and wondered whether Nomi would gray early as well. The thought made him smile with anticipation of all the happy years to come. After the hug, Ata sat back down by the hearth. But before Simal could join him the man said, "Let's honor this moment with an offering. Simal, would you oblige me?" "Yessir," said Simal, blushing at the idea. He had not shared seed with Ata before. "May I rinse off first?" Ata indicated a basin in the corner and Simal scuttled over to use it. He removed his loincloth, crusty as usual from the constant flow of precum oozing from his cock. He scooped some water out with a ladle, then he skinned back his foreskin and rinsed off the slime and a few errant pubes stuck there, making sure to let the water drip on the dirt floor and not back into the basin. When Simal came back to the fire, Ata was sitting cross-legged again. The stern expression had returned to his face. Nomi was standing off to the side, in the shadows. Simal could see that the man would not be assisting him. Somehow this came as a relief. The boy began jacking his dusky fifteen-year-old cock. It was difficult to get hard in this awkward situation. Simal closed his eyes and let his mind wander to Nomi: her long black hair that fell down to near her shapely brown butt. Now he was hard. The smacking sound of his ever-slimy cock was deafening in the quiet hut. Thoughts of Nomi were getting him near to cumming, until he opened his eyes and looked down at Ata's expressionless face, not far from his stiff manhood. Surely the man knew that Simal was thinking of his daughter in this moment. Did that make him angry? The thought took the wind out of Simal's sail, and he felt his dick begin to soften. This was bad. Silently, Nomi stepped beside him and placed a gentle hand on his broad brown back. Simal closed his eyes again and his veiny cock regained its stiffness. The feeling of his foreskin moving over his gooey purple cockhead sent shivers through his body. Then Nomi placed her other hand on his muscled chest. As she did so, she let her pinky finger flick across his nipple. That was enough. Simal shuffled forward and placed his bright purple cockhead on Ata's outstretched tongue. He fired shot after shot of thin watery cum. He was afraid the force of it might make Ata choke, but the man had closed off his throat, letting the entire copious load collect in his mouth before swallowing. When Simal was finally done shooting, Ata puckered his lips around the boy's cockhead and gave a single, sharp suck, draining his pisshole of seed. Then he made two audible swallows. "Damn my boy, what a load. You are virile." Ata cleared his throat and swallowed again. "You had better go easy on the milkweed or you will put a plant in my daughter's belly instead of a child," Ata said laughing. Simal stumbled to the clay floor. The experience had been intense. He could not wait to share that kind of feeling alone with Nomi. But he would have to wait a bit longer. Extramarital sex with a woman was forbidden and he didn't want anything to mess up his plan. He was going to leave his silly brothers and his stubborn father and become a potter in the Eastern Village. -Pecha- Pecha finally woke that morning with his head throbbing, his cock deflated and coated with the dried sour spit of his little brother Kala, and his taint still wet from Betsu's tongue bath. His body was covered in a clammy sweat and his muscles ached even more than the day before. His breath tasted awful. He knew he should help his father with chores around the house, but he hoped that yesterday's kill would buy him a day off. Deciding it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, Pecha tied on his loincloth and snuck out of the hut. Toma jumped out at the tree line and wrapped a noxious, fleshy arm around Pecha's shoulders. "I was wondering when you'd get your ass up. Palo, Roke and Mika were already gone when I woke up. I think they are all busy today. Chores." "Yeah, I should help my family today too," Pecha said, hoping Toma would take the hint. "Bullshit. I saw you sneaking out of the house. You're not planning on doing any chores today. Let's go to the Chief's Village. I've got someone you should talk to." Toma grabbed Pecha by his long brown muscled arm and began dragging him along down the wooded path towards the main village of the island. Pecha grimaced. He really wanted a drink of water and to be alone and free of Toma's smell. The smell reminded him of the sour cum still lingering in his throat from their 69-ing last night. His nausea nearly overcame him. "Stop pulling me. My head hurts." "You drank too much," Toma laughed. "Me too. That boar ball liquor the priest brought was amazing. It's infected my brain. All I can think about is jizz." The drinking, or rather the hangover, had the opposite effect on Pecha. He didn't want to taste cum or even think about it at the moment. His little brothers had drained the last ounce of horniness from his body that morning. "Pech, let's stop at the creek. You can get a drink of water and then give me a quick load. I'm starving." "No. I got milked against my will this morning. I'm tapped out." "Against your will? Give me a break. The Pech I know can crack out three loads before breakfast." "Lay off Toma, please." "All right man. You should probably save it anyway. You might need it later." They stopped at the creek anyway and Pecha drank some water while Toma picked berries off a bush and shoved them in his mouth. Later down the path on the outskirts of the Chief's Village, they met two boys, around twelve years old, who Pecha had met before, but whose names he couldn't remember. The both had loincloths, a sign that they had entered puberty and where considered men of the island. Toma knew their names, Koa and Noko, and stopped them in their tracks. Koa was a short dark boy with a thick tuft of straight hair that stood up on his head like a bush. Noko was much taller and paler, with thin, fine hair that lay flat against his head. Both boys were very skinny. Toma asked the boys if they could squirt yet (obviously they could as they were wearing cloths). Then he demanded that they share an offering with him as he was their elder and worthy of their respect. The boys hesitated but Toma pushed them both towards the nearest tree, intimidating them with his smelly bulk and his growling voice. "Leave them alone Toma," said Pecha. "Piss off Pech," Toma said, with a laugh. "I'm doing them an honor." The skinny boys reluctantly undid their loincloths and dropped them to the ground. Koa had the thickest bush Pecha had ever seen on a boy his age. The hair stood out wiry and straight like the tuft of hair on a boar's tail, nearly engulfing his little brown cock and balls. Noko, meanwhile, was nearly hairless but his fleshy cock and sac hung between his legs as long as any man's. The boys gave each other a pained look and then started jacking their cocks. Toma stood directly in front of them glowering, enjoying their reaction to his rude posturing. Neither boy could get an erection in their nervous state so Toma hissed a curse and squatted in front of Noko, grabbing the boy by his fleshy nutsac and pulling his hairless cock into his mouth. "Pech, get the other boy going. But don't change your mind and swallow his nut. It's mine." Pecha sighed and slowly got on his knees in front of the little boy. Koa was lightly pinching his foreskin out from his fluffy bush, accomplishing little to nothing. Pecha grabbed the boys sinewy buttocks and pulled him forward, burying his face into Koa's pubes. The smell of boy musk filled his nose and he nuzzled through the hair and fished blindly with his mouth until he reached the boy's tiny cock. He took the cock in his mouth, along with a mouthful of hair, and began massaging it with his lips and tongue. Koa shuddered and leaned forward. His cocklet hardened in an instant to its full three inches. Toma's gruff slurping and tugging seemed to tap into something for young Noko, who came in minutes. The tall boy's legs bowed and he yelped, thrusting his big, pale cock into Toma's throat. Toma tumbled backwards sputtering. "Hey, watch it kid! No need to be so dramatic for such a puny load. Pech, you better get more out of fuzz ball there." Pecha felt Koa tense up and he was afraid the boy might lose his boner from nerves, so he doubled his pace and dug his fingers into Koa's skinny butt cheeks, cramming the boy's bony pelvis into his face. In a few minutes, Koa announced he was going to cum. Toma pushed Pecha aside, half jokingly, and knelt in front of Koa, grabbing the boy's wet cock in his fingers and tugging on the tag of brown foreskin. As the boy whimpered, Toma stuck out his long chalky tongue and caught the splatter of thin, milky boy cum as it shook out. Once Koa was done, Toma stood up, his tongue still out, cupping the cum, and showed it to Pecha. The little puddle quivered; a long, fine, black pube floated in it. Toma swallowed. "What a waste of time. I could get more from milking a mouse tit. Get out of here," Toma barked. The boys scooped up their cloths and ran down the path, there faces red and their shoulders slumped. Pecha and Toma entered the Chief's Village. It lay in a large clearing surrounded by trees. In a nearby valley ran the island's only real river; it's rushing could be heard constantly. The village was made up of a circle of huts, with the Grand Temple at the easternmost point and the Chief's manor at the westernmost. The temple was a collection of thatched-roofed, wooden sheds on slits, with a large thatched-roof pavilion in the center where ceremonies and festivals were held. Pecha indicated the Temple. "If you need more seed you could ask for an offering there." Toma scowled. "Those old crones take more offerings than they give. No way." "Just an hour ago you were talking about how much you liked their liquor." "Well, even the most worthless shits do something right." "Watch how you talk about my uncle. You could get in trouble saying things like that. It's blasphemous," Pecha whispered. Toma smirked at the religious word. "Your uncle is cool, but did you see how that other priest slurped all over your baby brother's ass last night? And that was around a campfire with your father watching. Who knows what sick shit they get into in that temple? I've heard things." Pecha's mind flashed back to his induction ceremony at the previous year's Great Festival. He and the other coming-of-age boys gave seed to the High Priest, who determined if they were worthy to receive a loincloth. Then, on the third and final day of the festival, Pecha, now a man of the island, attended his first Men's Ritual of the Great Festival. There had been a lot of drinking. Pecha became drunk for the first time. His memory was blurry but he could not forget the fire, the heat, the crush of 300 men in the darkness around a great copper bowl, and the look of ecstatic hunger in the High Priest's eyes as he looked down on the yellowish, milky soup from his raised plinth. The image brought back Pecha's queasiness in a sudden wave. He asked Toma if they could sit in the shade for a moment. "No. We've got to go. We'll be late." `Late for what?' Pecha wanted to ask, but Toma was dragging him by the arm towards the western edge of the village, towards the Chief's compound. Near the gate they were joined by Roke, his small face looking serious and his long lanky arms tight by his side. "You guys are late. They are waiting." "Who?" squeaked Pecha. The three boys entered the gate and followed the path to the entrance of the Chief's lavish raised house. They stepped up into the wood-floored foyer and sat on the steps to the polished raised floor of the main house, wiping off their dirty feet before entering. The lacquered floor felt cool on Pecha's bare butt. The strap of his loincloth running up his nearly hairless crack was sweaty and damp from the hot day. The smell of incense wafted through the house, nearly drowning out the ever-pervasive stench of Toma's body. Stepping out of the recessed entrance and into the foyer, the boys were greeted by the Chief's youngest brother, Alopane, who was married to Roke's older sister. "Thank you for coming young men," Alopane boomed. He had the same loud voice and oversized, bony facial features as his two older brothers, the High Priest and the Chief. "Pecha, good to see you again. Look how you've grown." Pecha was suddenly conscious that he had not been in the Chief's compound for several years. The last time was with his father and his uncle Mabo, the priest, back before Pecha had his loincloth. "My older brothers are waiting for you. Please come." Older brothers? It was rare enough for a group of young teens to be invited into the Chief's compound but to have a private audience with the two most powerful men on the island was unheard of. "What is going on?" Pecha whispered to Roke. "What is this about?" Roke didn't answer and the four walked down the corridor of thin woven mats into the main hall. The room was the biggest on the island, not counting the pavilion at the Great Temple. The great rafters supporting the heavy thatched-roof soared above, blackened by the smoke of the smoldering hearth. The Chief and his brother, the High Priest, were sitting at the hearth. They rose to greet the boys. The Chief was a large man with a thick muscular body and a big, bony face. Everything about him was big: his ears, his nose, his eyebrows, his chin, his chest, and his thick legs. The High Priest was slightly younger and smaller than the Chief, but his long sharp nose gave his face a more handsome look. "Pecha, my boy. I haven't seen you in a while. How are you? How's your father? I hear you killed quite a pig during the hunt." The Chief asked the questions quickly, not waiting for Pecha to answer. Pecha had seen the Chief in his village from time to time, and very rarely he had stopped by Pecha's house for a brief visit, but Pecha had never had occasion to talk to him one-on-one without his father present. Roke was much more comfortable around the Chief's family, being related to them through his sister. Toma, who was usually loud and rude, was strangely subdued in the grand house. The Chief approached and snaked a hand under Pecha's arm, rubbing his big hand over Pecha's back. "You boys grow up so fast," he said. "You were just a whip the last time I visited." The Chief's hands roamed over Pecha's body, not in a sexual way but more like a hunter judging the fitness of a hunting dog. "Very good." The Chief invited everyone to sit by the hearth, he and his brother on one side and Roke, Toma, and Pecha on the other. They made small talk for a bit, the Chief asking most of the questions and the High Priest chiming in occasionally. The High Priest seem to know a lot about Pecha's family through Pecha's uncle. Then the Chief moved the conversation to the upcoming Great Festival, which took place in the middle of the dry season, a few months away. The High Priest had already heard that Pecha's little brother, Betsu, would attempt to become an acolyte to the Great Temple. "Pecha, do you know the saddest part of the Great Festival?" the Chief asked. Pecha was wary. Nothing in the Great Festival was supposed to be sad. It might be sacrilegious to say so. The High Priest was leaning towards his brother as if to support him in this question. All three great men were looking at Pecha across the hearth. He answered hesitantly, "The gifting of the tributes." To his surprise, the men heartily agreed. Officially, the gifting of five young girls, one from each of the island's five main villages, was a solemn honor, but Pecha new that the reality was sad and was always met with mothers' tears. The five girls, known as tributes, were dressed in finery, celebrated as saviors of the island, and then they were given, along with food and gifts, to the Ulungu, the terrifying tribe of warriors that swept across the seas in their catamarans and wiped out entire islands if they didn't receive proper tribute. The Chief continued, heartened by Pecha's response. He made Pecha swear to secrecy, and then he explained that the demands of the Ulungu had been met for too long. He and his family intended to do something about it, but it was a difficult issue to broach. Even though he was the Chief and his brother was the High Priest, they relied on the support of the island elders and the priests, most of whom were very conservative. Few people had the stomach to threaten a peace that had worked well for so long. Then the Chief and his brothers rose, and the boys follow suit. The Chief approached Pecha, grasping his shoulder and staring into his eyes, "We need the support of the youth to make this change, to make this island the proud place it once was. We dishonor the gods with this capitulation to the Ulungu. We need strong young men to drive out the Ulungu when the time comes. We hope that you will help us." Pecha was overwhelmed by the intensity and sincerity of the Chief's request. He looked to his right and saw that Alopane was standing directly behind Roke, his hands on Roke's shoulders. Both of them were looking at Pecha, waiting for his reaction. To Pecha's left, the High Priest was standing next to Toma, putting a reluctant hand on his stinky friend's shoulder. For once, even Toma had a genuine look on his face. "Ok, I will support you and fight the Ulungu." Chief exclaimed loudly and then wrapped Pecha in a warm embrace. He was a head taller than the boy, and Pecha was forced to turn his head to the side and nuzzle the great man's chest like a child. He was overwhelmed with emotion. "Wonderful. With a brave and virile boy like you on our side we are sure to be victorious." "His uncle tells me he's quite a lucky boy too," the High Priest purred, using a soft voice that Pecha had never heard him use. It was a little off-putting but Pecha continued to beam. "Let's see," said the Chief, and with a deft movement he snatched off Pecha's loincloth, leaving him naked in the cool, dim room. The Chief, the High Priest, and Alopane all murmured in approval. Pecha's long supple nutsac hung low between his lean legs, nearly a third of the way to his knees. A significant expanse of skin stretched from the root of his sac to the point where it flaired out to accommodate the girth of his nuts. Light flickered in the space between his brown hairless thighs and his silky sac. His flaccid boyhood, despite its length, nestled perfectly above his pendulous nuts. A fine black bush of pubes crowned the root of his cock, but his nuts and the space between his sac and thighs was hairless. "What a spectacular set of balls," the Chief proclaimed. "Brother, you should tear down that great shrine of yours and hold your rites around young Pecha's nuts instead." "Don't be blasphemous," the High Priest scolded, playfully. "It's true though, they certainly are a gift from the gods." The Chief reached out and scooped up Pecha's nuts in his palm. Then the High Priest shuffled over, knelt, and gave them both a quick peck, whispering a blessing as he did so. Pecha's body ignited in a red flame of embarrassment, made worse by the fact that the priest's kisses made his cock jump. "We should share seed with these young men to give them the strength needed to be successful in our endeavor," announced the Chief, as all three men undid their loincloths. In an instant, Pecha's headache and the heartburn from last night's celebration vanished. An hour ago he though he might never want to drink seed again but now he might get to drink the Chief's seed, an incredible honor. His mind raced back to a time five years ago when the Chief visited his house. Unlike the most recent visit where he only chatted for a short while with Pecha's father, during that earlier visit the Chief had actually shared seed with his father. Pecha remembered watching from behind Simal's back as their father sucked the Chief's great cock. He remembered the thick milky seed that cascaded from the Chief's piss slit. Even though he was only eight-years-old at the time, he had felt jealous of his father for such an opportunity. Now he was going to get blessed by the most powerful man on the island. Then, much to Pecha's disappointment, the Chief gently pushed him to his knees and guided his head, not to his cock but to his great, hairy nuts. Meanwhile, the Chief beckoned Roke over to bend down and begin sucking his thick, dusky, flaccid cock. For a moment Pecha was heartbroken, but then the rich, spicy musk of the Chief's balls drove out any other thought from his head. They were so big and swollen that Pecha's could only get one nut in his mouth at a time. The long, black hair that covered his sac was damped with flavorful sweat. Pecha tugged and sucked and caressed the balls with his tongue. Here was the source of seed of the most powerful man in Pecha's world. He was the true source of the island's strength, not a great wooden relic carved in the shape of cock and balls at the Grand Temple but here in the flesh, pulsating with power in Pecha's warm, pink mouth. He looked up at Roke awkwardly bobbing up and down on the Chief's now erect, long, crooked cock. Pecha was no longer jealous of his friend. It was enough to have the Chief's balls in mouth, to feel their energy buzzing through his head. He wished his lips could stay wrapped around them forever. Pecha was barely conscious that Toma was sucking off the High Priest nearby. This was also an tremendous honor for a boy of thirteen, but Pecha could not dwell on that thought with his head buried between the Chief's thick thighs. To his right, Alopane, the Chief's younger brother, was masturbating on his own. Pecha lost track of time. The Chief's musk was like a drug. Suddenly, Alopane approached and removed Roke from the Chief's dick. He knelt his young brother-in-law on the floor, guided his head back, and shot a load of cum into his upturned mouth. Only then did Pecha realize what was happening. The Chief, while jacking his cock, tenderly pulled Pecha off of his hairy balls and brought the cock to Pecha's lips. The Chief's manhood looked like a great root. It stuck straight out from his body and curved downward, with a slight crook to the left midway down the shaft. His foreskin was very long and fleshy, and his cockhead did not emerge from its folds, even on the downstroke. It was not so dissimilar to Roke's cock in appearance, but it was much larger and not phimotic. As his started to cum, the Chief froze his right hand on the downstroke and then brought his left hand to the top of his shaft and skinned back even more foreskin, revealing a huge, hot, purple cockhead. He placed the cockhead near the tip of Pecha's outstretched tongue. Pecha marveled that even in his ecstasy, the great man was considerate enough not to push his cockhead too far into his mouth. The Chief knew that anyone taking his precious seed in their mouth would want to savor the honor and not have it shot directly down their throat. The cum came like a torrent, thick and milky like Pecha remembered. It was not clotted like Toma's cum but rich and creamy. The flavor was intensely sharp, salty, and sweet. It was delicious. The Chief filled Pecha's mouth, and Pecha fought hard not to swallow a drop. Once the torrent ended, Pecha locked his lips around the angry cockhead and sucked the remnants of seed out of the shaft, struggling not to spill the mouthful of cum. He tumbled back onto his naked butt, his nuts slapping the wood floor. His lips were cinched tight. The seed washed around in his mouth, under his tongue, and between his teeth. He could no longer taste the rich, salty milk, he could only feel its energy singing through his skull. The power of his people was inside him. His own cock strained against the confines of his foreskin. His balls throbbed. Finally, reluctantly, he swallowed. Tears filled his eyes when he finally opened them to see everyone in the room looking down at him. "He is a pious boy like his father," said the High Priest, kindly. "He is," said the Chief. "Pecha, you will need to be here much more often as we put our secret plan into motion. I will speak to your father. For now, say nothing about it to him or anyone one else not in this room. Understood?"