Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2020 21:42:02 -0500 From: Bob Subject: Excavating a Monastery 4 Excavating a Monastery 4 By Bald Hairy Man This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com. I didn't discover magic, but I had a memorable and good time. It was a challenge, but I guessed that Magnus was skilled at opening new asses. It was a new experience for me to have my ass entirely filled. I was a little uneasy about it until he shot off deep in me. Sometimes cock just lets loose at an unexpected time. I had an odd sense that he was saying thank you with his sperm. I also felt that pleasing him enough to have him shoot off in me was a considerable achievement. In some ways an ass filled with another man's cum is the ultimate thank you note. The University's labs did not open until one on Sundays, so I had the morning off. I had breakfast with Magnus and was about ready to explore St. Andrews, when the doorbell rang and a voice exclaimed, "Uncle Magnus! I had come free time, I thought I would drop in." The man was his nephew, Sydney. He was sort of a nephew, the son of his daughter's husband's first marriage. Sydney looked at me and then at his uncle and asked, "Did you get lucky?" Magnus blushed, and I laughed. "I am Calvin, I am working on some manuscripts with your Uncle," I said. Sydney explained his relationship with Magnus. "We are not related; I have none of my Uncle's gifts. My specialty is saying the wrong thing at a bad time. My Uncle explains that I am unintentionally rude, and that it's not necessary to beat me up." "Does that work?" I asked. "Remarkably, yes. I am carpenter-house builder. No one expects me to be refined and sensible," he said. Sydney had an eccentric sense of humor. When Magnus left us to take a call. Sydney whispered to me, "If you were having fun, I will leave. Magnus doesn't get out much." "Are you playmates?" I asked. Sydney nodded. "I got in trouble once for having a romantic interlude in a rest room. He got me out of it and told me we shared some common interest. He doesn't get to play with young guys often, and he introduced me to a higher class of men," he explained. "By the way, you are my type." Some how a half hour later Magus was in Sydney's ass as Sydney and I were in the sixty-nine position. I enjoyed the view and the taste. Each time Magnus went deep, Sydney spurted precum. A little later I was sitting on Magnus's totem-pole. "How long have you known each other?" Sydney asked. "A day," I said. "Damn, I was on the one inch a day plan. He fucked me for eight days and went an inch deeper each day," Sydney explained. Magnus pulled out and a few minutes later I was in Sydney's ass. He was the perfect host, and I was the perfect guest. After ten minutes Magnus poked his cock into me again and we all enjoyed it. We play musical asses, and during the second rotation Magnus's cock had turned into a magic wand. Sydney had shot-off in me. His sperm and his uncle's cock may have been the perfect combination. It was a tight fit, and the sperm was the prefect lubricant. It seemed as if Magnus and I were in complete contact. It was not just in my genitals. I could sense his pleasure and share his drive to climax. I wasn't being fucked. I wanted him in my ass depositing his man seed. I knew he was getting closer to an orgasm. I both wanted him to ejaculate, but I also wanted him to continue thrusting. When he climaxed, I could feel each ejaculation. I wanted it to last. Of course, it didn't last, but Sydney was nice enough to lick my ass and savor the sperm concoction that drooled from my ass. Magnus was sucking my drooling cock. I had shot off too. We were due at the labs, so we dressed. Magnus asked me if I would object if Sydney spent the night. I said that was fine. As we walked to the university buildings Magnus told me he was surprised at the intensity of the mornings' events. "Did you feel it?" he asked. "It was remarkable," I replied. "Would you object if we tried to recreate it?" he whispered. I told him that would not be a problem at all. We had a productive afternoon at the Lab. I was allowed to see some of the actual manuscripts, not just photographs. One of the large Gospels had full page illustrations of the Evangelists at the beginning of the work and a full-page illustration of their attributes at the end of the gospel. The interpretation of the Lion of St. Mark was stunningly imaginative. There were no lions in northern Scotland, so the scribe went wild. It seemed that the monastery had its own distinctive style of illustration. They were partial to full page illustrations in what might be called a interlace-naturalistic style. The first letter of each Gospel was large and looked at first to be entirely interlace, but when you looked closely there were animals peaking out of the complex geometry. It was clear that sealing the books in dry, cool cave meant that the books were in stunning condition. They could have been painted the day before. There was one other impressive feature in one book. The text was in Latin, but a monk had carefully inscribed the Celtic equivalent for the Latin word in the margin. These were mostly difficult or obscure words. An unillustrated book of the four gospels and Acts was a greater surprise. In it the Latin version faced a page in the Celtic language. This was the Rosetta stone of the pre-medieval Celtic language. We went back to Magnus's apartment in the late afternoon. The technicians needed to get the books into their vault for the night. My head was reeling over the importance of out discoveries. The apartment was empty when we returned. Sydney left a note saying he would be back by six. He called as six and told Magnus he would be an hour late. "Sydney ran into an old friend. He may come over too. I haven't seen him in a while. We were close at one time," Magnus explained. "Is he another linguist?" I asked. "No, he was Sydney's therapist when Sydney went through a bad patch," Magnus explained. "I guess I should mention that he's a borderline sex maniac. I would bet he's coming here for the sex maniac aspect of his life, not for therapy." "A little sex manic can only be so bad," I remarked. "There is nothing little of his sex maniac parts," Magnus said. He looked uneasy. I laughed and he laughed. "Sometimes I think Sydney has a sensor in his cock that detect over sexed men," Magnus said. "It is too bad that is not a marketable skill." I was tired and excited. I think I had reached the too tired to sleep stage. I was trying to arrange all of our recent discoveries into a satisfying story. I knew that it would be a while before we translated all that was in the monasteries books so trying to organize things was impossible. I still wanted to do it. A half hour later Sydney arrived with Dr. Robert Winter. Winter was a distinguished looking man of about sixty. "Dr. Bobby is a distinguished psychiatrist, and also achieved note as the most willing cock sucker in Scotland," Magnus explained. Proving that assertion Bobby asked, "Is there chance I could get a cocktail out of your one of your cock's orgasms? I've been in a sexual desert and I need a taste of restorative sperm," "Well Bobby, While I was telling our guest about your refined tastes and delicate sexual disfunctions, I forgot to introduce you to Calvin Miller, an archaeologist. He is also an expert in Roman sexual practices regarding homosexual orgies." Magnus said. "Are you by any chance the one the papers refer to as the world's luckiest archaeologist?" Bobby asked as he shook my hand. A few minutes later, Bobby and I were in the sixty-nine position. Sydney was fucking me, and I was watching Magnus's huge cock fuck Bobby. Fucking can be crude, but Magnus was a delicate and graceful fucker. It was beautiful. Since I was tasting Bobby react to each movement of Magnus's cock. Sydney had a big cockhead crowning a long thin shaft. I was easy to take and felt as if a friendly mouse was loose in my ass. I felt the head and didn't feel the shaft. I had been sucking Bobby and had enjoyed it. We moved so he could fuck me. His cock was bigger than average, maybe seven inches. He was a forceful fucker but seemed to mellow as he continued to thrust. Magnus was fucking Sydney and I was surprised the cock fit in the smaller man's ass. I lost my train of thought and when I focused on Bobby again, his cock had changed. A cock is just a blunt protrusion of flesh from a man's groin. When I refocused, it was an intimate pleasure probe that had bonded with the lining of my ass. I wanted it as it thrusted and poked. Every movement was pleasurable. I wanted him in me, and I wanted him to lose control and flood my ass with his man seed. I wondered if Magnus and Sydney would object to fucking me with another man's cum in my ass. I immediately realized that was a foolish thought. We would all eventually exchange our bodily fluids. Our cum would eventually become a sperm cocktail of our reproductive fluids. The fluids were both an organic lubricant, and a taste treat. Bobby shot off; Magnus refilled my ass and he shot off. My ass briefly gaped open and Sidney worked his tongue into my ass so he could take his stepfather's and doctor's sperm. Bobby had a short recharge time, and his cock was in Sydney's ass. In retrospect it was hectic and confused. It was fine for me. I focused on whichever cock was in my ass and ignored any other activities. This was close to being a gang bang, but that didn't bother me. It all seemed rather egalitarian and enjoyable. I wasn't into tit-for-tat, but I assumed my cock would be in their asses eventually. I seemed to fall asleep around eleven that night. I suspect Sydney spent some time in my ass during the night, but that possibly was a dream. When I awoke the next morning, the doctor was gone. He was called to the hospital. We had breakfast, and then had nice fuck session before Magnus went to the library and I returned to the excavation. The off time was good for the crew. They were relaxed and refreshed. Most of the work was digging now. That was the usual work for the experienced diggers. It wasn't a typical task for Olivia, but she was determined to keep on working. The chapel was mostly exposed now and while it was typical of what we expected in many ways, it was complete and was frozen in time, the day the Vikings burned it. The monks stayed in free standing stone structures big enough for one or two men. Most were round and may have been beehive shaped. A few were rectangular. This may have been a stylistic change, or there might have been a different function. I was hoping for a few weeks of excavation before the news of the finds became public. That didn't happen. A cabinet member, Helen Murphy, hoping for a publicity burst told a tabloid reporter that we had found proof of Arthur's existence. The legends were true. She became Helen of Sincalum, the woman that launched a thousand drones. Everyone wanted to look. Of course, the drone photos only showed the monastery excavations, not the cave. Olivia got the worst of the publicity. Stories described her as a wealthy heiress playing an archaeologist on summer break. She had the misfortune of being wealthy and beautiful. I had a call from the BBC asking me to a meeting. Alistair and Sparky thought that some official reports on the site would be a good idea. Being nice to the BBC is usually a good move. The real intention was to have true reports instead of stories reporting the visions of Celtic witches. There was a slew of "I saw Merlin in a dream," stories. I went to Edinburgh to meet with the BBC. Several lawyers employed by Alistair came with me. Robert Clark, the head of Scottish programing and his staff met with me. They knew of me because if the Gustem excavation. I suspect they had contacted the men I worked with on the earlier programing. "We are interested in fact-based reporting. Most of the stories floating around are all spells, witches, visions and ghosts," Robert told me. "We would like to work with you. At Gustem you were able to explain the sexual rites that took place in the site into scholarly and slightly boring information. That doubled the viewership and made it acceptable to the public. Your discoveries are sensational. We would like you to make it significant." "It is significant," I said. "It may rewrite the history of the Dark Ages in Northern Britain. I can assure you there are no ghosts, and we have found enough human remains to say if any place had ghost, this would be the ideal place to haunt." The BBC proposed staff included Fergus O'Hara, an Irish educational broadcaster; Donald Williams, a photographer-cameraman, and Sara Miller, a graphic designer. I told them that our own photographic and computer imaging were excellent. I emphasized that we were a hard-working crew, and I didn't want a focus on individual personalities. "I assume you are referring to Olivia Macmillan?" Robert asked. I nodded. "She is a well-respected member of the crew, not a decorative accessory," I said. Robert smiled. "Mr. Macmillan has made that exceptionally clear to us," he said. We talked for an hour of so and we agreed. There were to be periodic short updates on specific objects and several hour-long programs. We had lunch and Robert apologized for me for suggesting I was boring. I told him I wasn't offended. "Maybe I have the unique skill of tuning a homosexual orgy into a boring event. It's a skill, but not that useful," I said. There was laughter. "Our job is usually finding a way to make a party conference into something interesting," Fergus remarked. There was more laughter. After the meeting broke up, Fergus came over to me. "I think we share a common friend, Kenneth Keeper?" "I spent a long time at his house. We got along well," I said. "Kenneth told me I would like you, and that you would like me. Actually, he mentioned you would like a specific part of me," Fergus whispered. I smiled. "I usually like the whole man, not just parts," I replied, "but, I admit to having a particular interest in one part." He smiled and we talked about the excavation. While the excavation was continuing, Roger sent photographs of the illuminated manuscripts in a continuous flow. Medieval manuscripts were usually Bibles, Gospels, Books of Hours and once and a while a Roman history. A portion of our books fell into those categories, but we had lives of saints, and histories and two books of poetry. The poetry was unknown works by Horace and another by Martial. While the Gospels and other religious books were in Latin. Some of the other books were a Celtic dialect and several were in what seemed to be a Celtic and Latin combination. It was unknown and there was a chance we had the only written record of it. The religious items include crosses, chalices, and other objects. One or two were possibly Roman, several in a Roman-Celtic style, and others in a northern interlace mode. You could see a melding of different styles in the objects. The same could be said of the paintings in the books. There were no panel paintings as in Greek Icons, but Celtic, Viking, Roman and Egyptian influences were detectible. There was so much that was new and unusual it was hard to grasp. I was considering the incredible richness of the library discoveries when I got a call from Roger. "Calvin! I'm sending you some shocking discoveries," he said." "More books?" I asked. "That's ordinary stuff compared to what I found," he said. Roger tended to understate things, so I was surprised. "This isn't a quiz program! What did you find?" I asked. "Letters," he replied. "Letters signed by St. Columba. Some were to an abbot. They are on parchment that is much older than the other books. There also seems to be a homily or maybe a draft of a book. There is another document on papyrus, and it written in a strange alphabet." "Coptic?" I asked. "If I knew what Coptic was, it might be," Roger replied. "It seems to be much more fragile that the other documents. I am afraid they may be too fragile to move, but I will send the others as soon as possible." I told him to send the photo's as soon as possible and to call Magnus and see if he had a Coptic language specialist available. Roger said he would do that. I didn't get the photographs for a day. Magnus wanted photographic details of the Coptic document done in case the papyrus turned to dust when they tried to move it. Complicating things one photo revealed the document was written on parchment that had been erased. The erased portion was written in Latin and seemed to be an unknown portion of the Aeneid. Two hours later Magnus called and said the document was written in the Coptic script. As they worked their way through the documents, they now realized there were twenty pages on papyrus. All were on papyrus of an erased poem by Virgil. My mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour when I returned to the farmhouse that evening. Eddie came to me as I entered. "I need to apologize to you. I got it on with Fergus this afternoon. I mentioned you were living here. He asked if I might like to get it on tonight?" Eddie said. "He's a nice guy, but I shouldn't have said anything." I told him not to worry. I would see how things developed that evening. I figured I would tell him I was too tired. David was the only one in the house other than Eddie and me. His brothers were at a funeral of an aunt on Mull. They would be away for two days. Fergus and Donald, the photographer, came by after dinner and Mud came over to shower. We had a few beers and somehow my resolve to go the bed early vanished. Several days later I realized that should not have been a surprise. I am sure that someday I might say no to sex, but that day hadn't come. Mud said he had to shower. David told him to save some hot water for him and ten minutes later we were all naked in the shower. A minute later I knew that Fergus and Donald weren't virgins. Fergus later told me than his regulars were in London, and if he didn't shoot off, he thought he would explode. While I knew the explosions of sex crazed men was rare, I had felt that way myself. The getting to know potential sexual partner with naked men in a shower can be uneasy. Mud solved the problem. He dropped to his knees and started sucking Fergus. Perhaps two or three seconds elapsed before we were all connected cock to mouth. Three or four seconds later, I realized that no one in the group was a virgin.