Date: Fri, 05 Nov 1999 15:58:46 -0800
From: cdroff@pacbell.net
Subject: The Lost Temple of Hun-Gamin

Copyright 1999, C.D.Roff

I'd like to dedicate this tale to my significant other, Terry, who inspired
it by not fucking me enough.  Comments to Cdroff@pacbell.net

	WARNING:  this story features hot man-to-man action, hallucinogenic
rainforest drugs, sweaty pagan rituals and other fun.  Leave now if you
value your innocence or sanity.


THE LOST TEMPLE OF HUN-GAMIN

 	I suppose I shouldn't have been trying to read and walk at the same
time, especially while navigating the narrow trail through the rainforest.
When I finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill I was far beyond
earshot of the rest of the expedition.  My clothes were in shreds, and I
had lost most of my equipment on the way down.  Other than a scrape on my
forehead I had managed to escape physical injury.  But I was terrified,
well aware of the fact that I was lost.
	If I had been calm I would have either stayed put or marked my
trail to assist anybody that might desire to rescue me, but I'm afraid I
gave in to my panic and blundered randomly through the thick foliage for
quite some time before collapsing exhausted across the trunk of a fallen
tree.  It was my first time in the field.  I had studied photographs of
this terrain from the safety of the university library, but actually being
there was far removed from looking at pictures.  The air was humid and
dense, smelling of thousands of plants.  I supposed I was a bit dazed from
the heavy oxygen content in the air.  Insects buzzed around me, and birds
screeched far above my head.  Most of the sun was intercepted by leaves,
casting green shadows on everything around me.
	I had made a point of getting into good physical condition in
preparation for this expedition, but the smooth chrome of the university
gymnasium was worlds away from the wild environment I now found myself
occupying.  It was all rather overwhelming for a bookish, intellectual type
such as myself.  I'd never in all of my nineteen years gone camping, or
hiking in the wilderness, being focused on my desire to obtain my first
Ph.D. before my twentieth birthday.  My studies occupied most of my time,
and other than discussions with my fellow students over the course
material, I really didn't socialize much.  I had little in common with the
other students, being younger than the others who were performing at my
level.  Even so, many of both genders found me attractive, although I did
nothing to encourage these advances, and lately I had become worried that I
might possibly have homosexual tendencies.  After making this discovery I
had begun to avoid the gym when members of the Lambda fraternity were
present, fearing that another similar towel snapping episode might make my
preference public.
	But now that I was safely far away from the Lambdas and their
bodybuilding competitions, I felt myself start to grow aroused.  Secure in
the knowledge that no one was watching, I unfastened my trousers and
prepared to satisfy myself autoerotically.
	Statistically, I can confirm that my penis is far beyond average in
both length and circumference.  I find this fact embarrassing.  As an
example, I find it nearly impossible to urinate when someone else is
present.  Therefore, having my entire penis exposed in broad daylight,
outside, was an especially daring act.  I squeezed it gently with both my
hands, watching a glimmer of translucent fluid appear at the slit.  My eyes
closed as I slowly stroked myself, feeling quite wicked in this act of
public indecency.  I was very near my climax when I suddenly felt another
hand on top of mine.
	My eyes snapped open.  In front of me stood a native.  He must have
been six and a half feet tall, an exquisite physical specimen who would
have put any of the hypermuscular Lambdas to shame.  His face was painted
with geometric designs in black, white and red, and tribal tattoos
decorated his body.  An ivory ornament hung from his pierced nose, and his
jet black hair was braided at the sides, with feathers and other decorative
accessories woven into it.  He wore only a brief loincloth, which was
straining to cover his own erection.
	His strong hand squeezed me, stroking me roughly, and I cried out
as I ejaculated all over his muscular torso.  He actually seemed to enjoy
this, and I'll admit I also found pleasure in watching my extract slide
down the ridges of his belly.  He grinned and said something in his
language, then took my wrist firmly, freeing his stiff rod from the
loincloth with his other hand.
	It was not quite as large as mine, which was fortunate considering
what he forced me to do next, and I rubbed it gently, feeling it pulsate in
my hand.  He threw back his head in pleasure as I handled him, rubbing my
sperm into his chest and stomach as I squeezed.  Suddenly he grabbed me by
my upper arms, hauling me to my feet; then he kicked my feet out from
underneath me so that I landed on my knees.  I found myself at eye level
with his erect cock.  He placed one strong hand on the back of my head,
guiding me forward, while with the other hand he rubbed the head of his
penis along my lips.  When I didn't immediately open my mouth he made a
threatening noise, seizing the back of my neck painfully, and so I
hesitantly licked the smooth round head of his cock.  A slight amount of
fluid squeezed out of it, which had a surprisingly delicate salty flavor.
	I took more of him, stretching my lips around him, and this
encouragement inspired him to thrust uncomfortably deep into my mouth.  I
gagged and tried to pull away, but he was very strong, and he began to
thrust his hips in a slow rhythm.  I swiftly learned that he did not like
feeling my teeth when he twisted my ears painfully, so I took great care to
keep my lips over them as I struggled to breathe.  His testicles, which
were rubbing against my chin, suddenly tightened and his body went rigid,
his hands locked tight around my head.  He grunted and shot what seemed
like a huge quantity of sperm into my mouth.  My cheeks bulged and I
choked, turning bright red, forced to swallow most of it.
	Then he let me go and I fell backwards, gasping for breath.  When I
recovered, another native had appeared.  This new one was not quite so tall
as the first, although every bit as muscular, and as I studied them my
scientific training returned.  These must be members of the Hun-gamin, a
people which had determinedly avoided contact with western civilization,
rumored to inhabit this area.  Although previous anthropologists had
recorded various rumors from neighboring tribes concerning this secretive
warrior society, no firsthand information existed.  The last man who had
attempted to find them, Dr. Roger Chamberlain (author of several important
ethnographic papers), had vanished in this very same rainforest seven years
ago and was long presumed dead.
	The two natives ceased their argument and stared down at me.  I
blushed to realize my penis was still exposed.  As a matter of fact, it was
halfway erect again.  Quickly stuffing it back into my trousers, I got to
my feet.  "Hello," I said in an exaggeratedly friendly voice.  I touched my
chest.  "My name is -"
	The new native made an aggravated sound and pushed roughly at my
shoulder.  I fell back against the dead tree.  The native whipped a wicked
looking bush knife from his belt.  It was American-made, of the highest
quality.  Sunlight glinted from its razor-sharp edge.  My heart pounded in
my chest, as I was sure he was going to kill me right there, but to my
surprise, all he did was slice away my clothes.  Soon I was standing before
him wearing only my hiking shoes, and of course my socks as well.  I made
an attempt at covering my half-erect johnson with my hands, but the second
native swatted them away.  The first native made some comment and again
grasped me, and I helplessly watched myself swell to full tumescence.
	The second native was impressed.  He gently reached out to touch
it, and it jumped toward his hand, entirely of its own volition.  I
received the distinct impression that, while it may have been acting
independently at that particular moment, it had in fact saved my life.  The
second native grinned, revealing that his incisors had been filed to
points.  I immediately began mentally referring to him as Fang.  He began
speaking to me in an excited tone of voice, all the while tugging
rhythmically at me, until all of this sudden sexual activity overwhelmed
me, and I spurted yet again.  Fang caught a great deal of it on his hand.
He slowly raised it to his face, sniffed it, then tasted it.  This seemed
to please him.  He spread it over his bare chest with a satisfied
expression.
	The two of them conversed some more, making assorted hand gestures
and hip thrusts to make their points.  The first one who found me (I shall
refer to him in this narrative as Muscles for obvious reasons) then took a
knife from his own belt, a somewhat lesser knife than the one belonging to
Fang, and severed two lengths of vine that were growing nearby, quickly
stripping them of leaves.  He gave one to Fang, who immediately used it to
tie my hands securely together while at the same time Muscles was using the
other to bind my feet.  Then they shoved me so that I was lying on my back,
and both vanished for a time, during which all manner of frightening things
went through my head.  Shortly they came back with a long piece of wood,
which they put between my bound hands and feet.  Each of them shouldered an
end, and they carried me off in this fashion.
	Muscles, who had taken the end of the pole nearest my feet, seemed
most amused with my buttocks.  He had discovered from brushing against me
that I was very ticklish in that region.  I was helpless to resist this
particular torment, being limited to useless attempts to squirm my pelvis
out of his way.  Finally he stopped.  I spread my legs slightly, trying to
see his face between them.  He had his index finger in his mouth.  My pulse
pounded as I realized he was lubricating it.
	Sure enough, the slippery finger was soon probing my anus.  I
squeezed it tightly shut, but that only incited him to describe circles
around it, and then to press firmly against me as I resisted.  He kept up a
steady pressure, and then Fang tripped, causing me to slide toward Muscles,
impaling myself on his fingertip.
	I'm afraid I screamed, which caused Fang to turn his head, which
caused me to become impaled deeper.  This sudden invasion was so intense
that I felt faint, my rectal muscles desperately trying to push him out of
me,and he and Fang had a brief conversation while I moaned and strained, to
no avail.
	They continued on their way, Muscles working his finger deeper and
deeper inside me until it was all the way in, stroking the area beneath my
scrotum with his thumb, occasionally tickling me with the rest of his
fingers.  I discovered the pain diminished somewhat if I stopped resisting,
and as I gradually relaxed around his thick finger, I became aroused yet
again.  Occasionally he would reach forward with his free hand and squeeze
my engorged cock, or gently cup my balls in his hand.
	In this manner I was brought into their camp.  We reached a small
clearing and I could suddenly smell a campfire and hear voices.  Muscles
withdrew his finger, which I will admit I missed at first, and proceeded to
seat the pole from which I hung onto two upright supports. Others gathered
around, all male.  Muscles displayed my erection to them, conversing
excitedly.  Several of them reached out to touch it, and had I not voided
my semen twice previously I might have exploded in their hands.
	"Well, isn't this nice?"  It took a moment before I realized
somebody had spoken to me in English.  I twisted my neck around and saw a
man I had first taken for a native due to the fact that he was dressed and
painted very much like them.  It could only be one person.
	"Dr. Roger Chamberlain!"  He planted his hands on his hips, giving
a deep chuckle.  I recognized his distinguished professorly features from
the cover of his most recent book, but in the past several years his hair
had grown past his shoulders.  He had woven decorations into his salt and
pepper braids in the local fashion.  He was as muscular as any of the
natives, but unlike theirs, his body was covered in thick dark hair.
	"Congratulations, young man."  He bent over and took me into his
hand, inspecting me closely, his hairy forearm tickling my belly.  "You
have found the mysterious tribe of Hun-Gamin.  Many a lesser anthropologist
has been killed searching for them.  Hmmm.  Tell me your entire sexual
history."
	His voice was commandingly authoritative.  Additionally, he was
gripping my testicles rather firmly.  "I - uh - until very recently - don't
exactly have a - "
	"Virgin?"  He looked at me sharply.
	I blushed.  "Well, until these two found me."
	"Excellent."  He slapped my buttocks sharply.  "You're very lucky.
The tribe of Hun-Gamin is actually a cult encompassing members of several
local tribes.  They live here, near the temple of Hun-Gamin, avoiding all
contact with women and foreigners.  It's mainly a religious society."
	"Religious?"  My voice quavered as thoughts of pagan sacrificial
rites flashed through my mind.
	"They worship a god with an enormous prick."  He chuckled again,
squeezing me hard.  "If you hadn't been built like a bull, and if you
hadn't happened to appear on the day of their most important religious
ceremony, they'd have slit your throat.  No, I think they'll want to keep
you very much alive.  Just as they did with me, several years ago."
	He smiled, apparently enjoying the memory intensely.  I realized
he'd been with them for a long time, yet had never escaped. "Have they been
keeping you prisoner all this time?"
	"Prisoner?"  He smiled patronizingly at me.  "Oh, no.  I took the
full warrior initiation.  I'm one of them, now."
	The natives had been conversing all around us during this time, but
now they fell respectfully silent.  Dr. Chamberlain immediately fell to his
knees, the rest of them repeating the action.
	The approaching man must have been seven feet tall.  His massive
body was covered with tattoos and paint, and he approached me until he
towered directly over me, staring down.  The septum of his nose was
pierced, and he wore an elaborately carved ornament in it.  His earlobes
were stretched by more ornaments, and from my particular vantage point,
which allowed me to peer directly under his loincloth, I noticed that his
penis was also pierced, by an ivory ring that went all the way through it,
horizontally.
	He held out his hand and somebody gave him a knife, which he used
to slice through my bindings.  I fell flat on my back, then clumsily
struggled to my feet.
	The shaman looked down at my hard prick, then smiled at me.  He
clasped it firmly in his hand and I erupted all over his chest.  Some of it
even splashed his nose and chin.  When my head cleared I was certain this
transgression would result in my swift death, but instead, the shaman was
laughing, rubbing the creamy fluid into his tattooed flesh.  He said
something to me, his voice incredibly deep.
	"He wants you down on your knees," Dr. Chamberlain translated.
"I'd do it fast.  This guy is in charge.  You don't want to piss him off."
	I quickly fell to my knees.  The shaman freed his pierced penis,
which was growing larger as I looked at it.  His hand clamped the back of
my neck, but I was heedful of the doctor's advice, and swiftly enveloped
him in my mouth.  He gave a thunderous moan as I encircled the head with my
lips, using my tongue to explore the ivory ring. The other men circled
around to watch this performance.  Steadying myself by grasping his hips,
which were as solid as cement, I gently began moving my head back and
forth. Now that I had got the hang of opening my throat wide enough, and
had learned how to breathe on the outward strokes, I was proving to be
quite proficient at this art.  I administered fellatio as though my life
depended on it, as I happened to believe that it did.  I pretended that it
was my own stiff phallus, and that I was ministering to it in exactly the
manner I'd prefer to be treated myself.
	"He's going to come pretty soon," Dr. Chamberlain said.  "Make sure
you don't lose a drop."
	I very carefully put my hand beneath his huge balls, which were
bouncing against my chin, and they tightened in my hand.  I wrapped my arms
around his hips and pressed my face tight against him as he came.  He
roared, running his big hands through my hair, and I desperately swallowed
the massive infusion of protein.  Drawing slowly backwards, I sucked the
last few drops out of him, then collapsed at his feet.  The audience
jabbered in excitement.
	The shaman reached down and lifted me by the armpits, setting me on
my feet.  He stared at me for a long time with the deepest black eyes I've
ever seen, and then he kissed me, his thick lips forcing my bruised ones
open and his tongue probing my mouth.
	Then he slapped my buttocks and said something I didn't understand
before departing in the direction from which he'd arrived.
	"You should start to hallucinate in about thirty minutes,"
Dr. Chamberlain informed me.
	"What?"
	"He spends all his time in the temple."  The doctor pointed in the
direction the shaman had gone.  "Drinking a very potent infusion of a local
psychoactive plant.  It's diluted somewhat in his semen, but it's still
very powerful, especially if you're not used to it.  You'll be high for a
couple of days."
	I moaned and sat down, and had quite an emotional moment, I'm
afraid, as I discarded my dreams of academic glory and contemplated a
future servicing painted barbarians on my knees.  Perhaps the heat or the
excessive oxygen or the trauma from these repeated sexual molestations had
gotten to me, for this future didn't seem entirely a bad thing.
	I sensed a presence beside me and looked up.  Muscles.  I felt a
certain fondness for him, as he had taken my virginity and would therefore
always remain in my memories.  He had brought me a bowl of some sort of
stew, containing several kinds of vegetables and rich chunks of meat.
Normally I'm a vegan, but it smelled delicious, and I wolfed it down.
Muscles seemed very pleased that I had eaten it all, and he held my head
against his chest for a few moments, stroking my hair.
	"Are you starting to feel it yet?"  Dr. Chamberlain sat down on the
other side of me, and Muscles said something abrupt and released me.  As I
sat up straight my belly rumbled.
	"Ah, actually I think I will just go off in the bushes for a
moment, if you'll pardon me."
	"That way."  He pointed and I stood, a bit self conscious over the
fact that I wasn't even wearing a loincloth, and entered the thick forest
surrounding the camp.  I do not care to discuss the particular details, but
something I had ingested was proving to have a highly laxative effect.
After I finished I noticed something which might have been a boa
constrictor, which hastened my return to the camp.  In my absence someone
had begun beating a monotonous rhythm upon a drum.  Doctor Chamberlain was
waiting for me, along with one of the smaller native men.  His face was
colored red on one side, and he was very slender, his smooth brown torso
painted with intricate designs.
	"This is Dwin-Ge," the doctor said.  "Go with him.  Have fun."
	Dwin-Ge took me by the hand and led me toward the source of the
drumbeats.  I was beginning to feel lightheaded as I followed him down a
narrow path in the forest.  We emerged near a natural hot spring.  Ancient
stone blocks had been added to create a round pool, with steps leading into
it.  It was here I discarded the last of my garments, my trusty hiking
boots and socks, and followed Dwin-Ge into the water.
	At first it was uncomfortably hot, especially given the warm and
humid nature of the rainforest itself.  And speaking of which, one of the
brief afternoon storms that normally arrived just before sunset struck just
after we entered the pool.  As the rain splattered over us, Dwin-Ge rubbed
some sort of aromatic plant extract in my hair, and over my skin, being
most thorough with regard to the parts of me below the waist.
	When the rain stopped I followed him back down the path, where we
were met by two more men.  These had a collection of bowls of pigment, and
they proceeded to paint designs all over my face and body.  I, as I might
have mentioned, am very ticklish, and had a difficult time standing still
throughout this process.  They outfitted me with a loincloth of my own,
which drew between my buttocks rather like a thong undergarment.  I
actually possess one of those, which I found in the campus laundry room one
night, but I've never actually gone out in public wearing it.  Now I was
grateful for what little concealment the loincloth provided, as my constant
public exposure had been making me quite anxious.
	In proper savage attire, then, I was taken down yet another narrow
path through the vegetation, and by now it had grown almost dark, so my
first glimpse of the ancient and magnificent temple of Hun-Gamen was by
torchlight, against a blazing tropical sunset.  It was hewn out of massive
stone blocks, partially overgrown with vines.  I'd have liked to examine it
in detail, but my escorts hurried me up a short flight of stone steps and
into the temple itself.
	A huge bonfire blazed inside, with plenty of room for spectators
and dancers around it.  Some of these were assembled as I arrived.  The
drummers were here, staring solemnly ahead, entranced by their own rhythm.
The ceiling was open, and stars were beginning to blaze above.
	My escorts gently pointed me toward, well, I suppose you might call
it an altar.  It was a circular frame, about seven feet in diameter,
precisely balanced on a steady base, so that it could pivot forward and
backward.  I looked at it carefully, having never seen anything similar in
the publications.  I could tell it was very old, from the pattern of adze
marks and the faded carved hieroglyphs, several of which seemed to depict a
man built very much like myself involved in various adult activities.
	Several men gathered around me as I inspected their ancestors'
craftsmanship, helpfully pointing out the more obscene carvings.  My
loincloth was starting to become uncomfortably restrictive, and to make
matters worse, the more it expanded in the front, the more it contracted in
the back.  My buttocks were quite effectively separated, and I was made
very conscious of this as I observed the carvings near the base of this
sculpture.
	Then the men seized me, putting me in the center of the circular
frame.  More bindings appeared, and I began to struggle at the thought of
being tied up and helpless again, but I was outnumbered by a considerable
margin.  My hands were bound together and suspended above my head at the
top of the frame.  My ankles were separated and firmly attached at eight
o'clock and four o'clock.  And a wide leather belt that extended from my
nipples to my hips was wrapped tightly around my waist and tethered to the
sides.  Once they had me bound in this frame, they tipped it gently back
and forth, showing me the full range of positions that could be achieved.
During this my penis was, as was proving to be usual, quite in favor of all
these activities, even as my mind struggled to accommodate them, and I'm
afraid a damp spot was growing on my new loincloth.
	Not much blood flows to my brain at times like these, as quite a
lot of it is diverted elsewhere, and with the increasing effects of the
psychoactive drug and the hypnotic effects of the drum, I was becoming
quite intellectually vapid.  I was totally unfamiliar with mind altering
drugs, unless one counts herbal teas and ibuprofen.  I found myself
fascinated with watching the flames leap up from the bonfire, and when some
of the men began dancing around it I became fascinated with them as well.
I do not know how long I hung there happily staring at the spectacle before
me, but I suspect it was quite some time, and during this time the room was
filling with men, probably somewhere around eighty-five of them, give or
take a few total hallucinations.
	Abruptly the drumming stopped, and it took me a moment to realize
that fact.  Of course, I had not seen the shaman enter because he was
behind me, and as I would later realize, would be spending a large portion
of the evening behind me.
	He stepped out to where I could see him, his arms extended over the
crowd.  My eyes feasted on his muscular back, on his tight round ass with
the back of his loincloth extending deep into his crack.
	Then he turned to face me, his dark eyes finding my dazed and
intoxicated ones.  He smiled, and it was a surprisingly tender expression
given his general barbaric appearance.  I fell deeply in love with him on
the spot.  I wanted him to put me through all of the illustrations on this
wheel.  I wanted to fall to my knees and worship him with my tongue.  I
would have done anything for him, even and including hideous tortures and
death.  I believe he could sense this.
	He put his hand in front of my loincloth and made some sort of
gesture, and the loincloth fell away, even though he hadn't touched it.  My
organ, which seemed bigger than even its normal yet considerable size,
pointed eagerly at him, and I heard gasps and sighs from the assembled
audience.  I, who only yesterday had been totally unable to urinate behind
a bush because Dave the photographer had kept talking to me during it.  I
was now an object for the entertainment of the crowd.
	The shaman moved his hand to the right, and my rod followed him, as
if it were magnetised.  He moved up, to the left, and my prick moved as
well.  I felt an electric tingling there, and my blond pubic hairs were
standing on end.
	He moved closer to me, extending both hands but not touching me,
and the tingling extended over the rest of me.  Through my nipples, over my
thighs, around my neck.  I was so hot I was nearly emitting light.  Sweat
beaded on my flesh.  The fire blazed higher as some of the men threw more
fuel on it, and the smoke began to smell different, almost herbal.  More of
them were dancing now.  And some of them weren't quite . . . dancing.  They
were performing for me, making an attempt to increase my excitement and
succeeding.  They were taking each other in their hands, and in their
mouths, and from behind, demonstrating a range of contortions beyond any of
my wildest fantasies.  Their sweaty bodies gleamed in the firelight.  I
could hear the sounds they made, which needed no translation whatsoever.  I
could even smell their musky scent.
	The shaman was beside me again, and in his hand was a bowl of
something wet that made a slurping sound when he dipped his fingers into
it.  He rubbed them on my cock, which immediately developed a numb and
tingling sensation that was not in the least unpleasant.  More of this
substance was applied to my asshole until it was quite slippery.  The
shaman worked his smallest finger into me, looking me in the eyes as he
did.  I remembered my lesson from earlier that day, that it hurt less if
you relaxed.  He gently slid the finger in and out, then worked in a second
finger, which made me gasp a little.  He reached up with his other hand and
stroked my cheek, continuing down my neck and over my chest.  He tilted the
frame back, so I was looking up at the stars, all the while continuing to
work his fingers inside me.
	I cried out at the introduction of the third finger, but then he
hit a spot deep inside me and my brain was suddenly awash in
neurotransmiters.  I believe I made a much louder sound as that occurred,
but I'm not entirely sure.  The drums picked up the tempo, and some of the
men began chanting.
	Suddenly the fingers withdrew from me and the frame was pulled
sharply down, so that I was facing the fire once again, and I felt the
shaman behind me, clasping my hips in his powerful hands.  I could feel
many eyes upon my face as he slipped the very tip of his prong into me.  It
was much bigger than his three fingers.  Sweat poured from my shoulders,
splattering on the stone below.
	He went just a bit deeper, and now it started to stretch, and I
shut my eyes and concentrated on relaxing, on taking him deep within me.
He held very still, waiting for me to stop fighting the intrusion, and when
that happened he slid slowly and firmly inside until I had engulfed all of
him.
	I opened my eyes and watched the men watch me.  I ground my pelvis
back against the shaman, hard.  And then I proceeded to lose twenty years
of inhibition coupled with a few thousand years of evolution.  I let out a
long and enthusiastic whoop and then proceeded to say the inane sorts of
things that men say in pornographic videos, (not that I'd normally be
caught dead renting those things except for once in a great while).  The
shaman couldn't understand me anyway.  Doctor Chamberlain could understand
me, and I thought I glimpsed him back in the crowd somewhere, but I didn't
particularly care what he thought of me at this point.  It's not as though
he were my advisor or even affiliated with my department.  As if I ever
intended going back to school anyway.  Fuck school.  I sighed deeply as the
shaman filled me with his hot prick, feeling the extra ridge of the ivory
ring slide along inside me as I held him in my tight warm embrace.  I
closed my eyes and let him have me, greedily absorbing his warmth.
	With a shock I realized something was happening in front of me.  I
looked down and saw the top of a head.  Not sure who it belonged to, but
his lips were around me and he was guiding me, with some difficulty, back
into his throat.  My toes curled, and my balls tensed, but nothing
happened.  The reader might perhaps have surmised that I generally don't
require a great deal of stimulation before reaching orgasm, and quite
correctly at that.  But instead of coming, I seemed to reach a higher level
of stimulation.
	"That ointment contains a local anesthetic made from the
Lubricanthia vine," the good doctor suddenly pointed out.  A line was
forming behind him.  "You'll last all night, which is a good thing.  It's a
bad omen if you come before each of the men has a chance to go down on
you."
	"Doctor Chamberlain," I said impatiently.  "Shut up and suck my
dick."
	"With pleasure."  He smiled, the crows feet at the corners of his
eyes crinkling.  He dropped to his knees, shoving the previous man out of
the way, and began a virtuoso performance.  Well, it was only my second
experience with receiving oral sex, but compared to the first one and
several after that, it was indeed amazing.  The shaman contined pumping
into me, changing the angle of the frame every now and then for variety.
The men were indeed lined up to suck my cock, changing places every fifty
strokes or so, but after a while I completely stopped counting and
observing and analyzing and thinking, possibly for the first time in my
life, and reached an exhausted state of heightened lust where I just sort
of hung there in my frame and gave myself over to pure sensation.  At some
point it started to rain again.  The fire was sheltered and kept burning,
and the rain felt delicious as it washed the sweat from my body as I thrust
back and forth between the shaman and the mouth of the moment.
	Then the shaman began to tremble behind me.  I vaguely wondered if
absorption of the psychoactive chemicals through the colon would have an
increased effect upon the dosage I'd previously ingested.  However, if so,
there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.  He was rippling behind me,
his thrusting deep and hard, his grip on my hips raising bruises.  He
slammed me tight against him, throwing one arm around my chest, his hand
directly over my heart, his other hand firm around the base of my cock.  I
felt myself tense, too .  I wondered if everybody had gotten a chance at
me.  It seemed like a few of them had gotten in line a couple of times.
After several thousand false starts this evening, it seemed like I was
finally going to come.  Or die, one of the two.
	The shaman burst open deep inside me, flooding me with his magic
juice, which I almost seemed to taste in the back of my throat.  My balls
clenched and - I just stayed there.  I was coming, but frozen in time.
Nothing spurted from me.  My muscles were paralyzed.  I felt the shaman
slowly pull out of me, his arms still wrapped around me tight.  Then I
could see him in front of me, and we were deep in the rainforest together.
He looked directly into my eyes and then started melting and changing
shape, until he was a gigantic boa constrictor.  He flowed toward me and
coiled up around my body, wrapping several times around me, squeezing
gently.  His tail worked its way between my legs, and then deep up inside
me...
	... and then he was a jaguar, claws just barely penetrating my
flesh, claws lightly holding the back of my neck as he thrust into me
viciously
	... then an eagle, an enormous one, soaring high over a waterfall
as I wrapped my arms and legs around him, suddenly swooping into a steep
dive
	... and then I was back in the temple, the sensation in my groin
rising higher and higher and higher.
	The shaman let go.
	And white fountains spurted from me as I screamed in ecstasy.  They
caught it, in a golden goblet.  They passed it around, each of them having
a taste.  The shaman untied me from the frame, catching me as I collapsed
and lifting me in his arms, carrying me to a bed of soft furs in a side
room of the temple.  He fondly stroked my cheek as I drifted instantly to
sleep.

				   @@@@@

	"Is he asleep?"  Doctor Chamberlain stroked his chin stubble as he
observed the insensate twenty year old academic prodigy lying on a bed of
furs with his eyes shut, a thin stream of drool leaking from his gaping
mouth.
	The shaman tenderly wiped away the drool with what was once the
tail of an ocelot.  He scratched the boy's back, watching him sigh and
snuggle happily into the furs.
	A hot wave of envy swept through Doctor Chamberlain.  Several years
ago he had been the centerpiece of the ceremony.  But he'd been
thirty-seven then, with not nearly the stamina of this . . . juvenile.  The
shaman had definitely never been this cuddly with him.  In fact, entire
sections of the ritual, such as the flogging, had been left out entirely.
	"His spirit is wandering."  The shaman tucked a pillow behind the
boy's head.  "It is a powerful spirit.  I think he may be the one from the
prophecies.  The one who will save us from a dread enemy."
	Doctor Chamberlain frowned as he studied the peachy curves of the
no-longer-virginal-by-a-matter-of-hours ass.  That ass was important.  In
time, it would be his.

To be continued?