Date: Sun, 27 Feb 2005 15:12:39 -0800 (PST)
From: Sin Titulo <sintitulo2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bone Hunter

	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