Date: Mon, 18 May 2020 07:23:44 -0400
From: Bob <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Excavating Gustem Hall 3

Excavating Gustem Hall 3

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


The second season of excavations at Gustem Hall began on the first day of
May. Normally this would start after the Spring semester of college
finished, but the winter had been unusually wet even for England, and the
site was suffering from erosion. My crew had done as much repair and
salvage work as we could, but we needed more staff.

We were lucky that Mark was a workaholic and kept up with the steady stream
of finds. Bunny had become his special friend and his was happy data
entering. Bunny wasn't brain surgeon material, but he excelled at mindless
repetitive work. When he was near Mark and Mark was fucking him regularly,
Bunny was happy.

Roddy and I were turning into a team. I knew where he was coming from and
he understood me.  It was a good professional relationship. Personally, we
got along well too, but sexually we were perfectly matched. His cock and my
ass were a good fit. I noticed that early. I did not realize until later
that my ass was a near perfect replica of his late partner's ass.

I didn't have the look or personality of his former partner, but I had his
genitals.  For Roddy, one out of three characteristics was enough. I was
shallow enough to settle for great sex, with some affection. Our working
relationship was fine.

There was one oddity about the excavations. We had discovered spectacular
finds, the temple, statue, and coin hoards. We lacked a settlement. I would
have expected the finds would have been part of a thriving community[BW1]
or settlement. We hadn't found it yet, or it never existed. It might be an
isolated cult center built in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't exactly nowhere. We had found a sacred spring dedicated to male
fertility. Was it impossible that only males were permitted at the cult
site?  Were their rites for men only, excluding women. A settlement without
women was not likely to thrive. That was especially true since the cult
focused on allowing men to father children.

All the little inscriptions on the tiles focused on male fertility. The
illustrations scratched on tiles had the same focus. They were graphic and
mostly obscene. Ancient obscenity is not the same as modern
obscenity. While a Victorian gentleman might wish for a loving woman who
might produce heathy heirs, a Roman man would look for a woman who would
fuck like a rabbit, and give him a heirs who could provide labor to help
him in the family business.  The Romans admitted there was
intercourse. Victorians admitted that reluctantly.

From the subsoil radar, we knew there were no major stone buildings or
foundations. The settlement could have consisted of wooden buildings which
produced little if any radar blips. That sort of building was meat and
potatoes for the English archeologists. Wood framed buildings were typical
of pre and post Roman construction. Roddy went hunting for those.

I went looking for traces of the fertility cult. We knew men made offerings
to the spring but had no indications of ceremonies. The coin hoards
indicated that something was going on. I went looking for potential ritual
elements.

We had two new groups joining the excavation. Our analysis indicated that
the marble used for the temple came from Italy. Three men came from Italy
to study the temple. Their leader was Gustavo Sabbini, and he had two field
men with him, Marco and Julio.

The second group was German.  They were interested in Celtic religion and
rites. Professor Helmut Andersen lead the group. His father was a Danish
professor.  Wotan Mueller and Siegfried Marks were his associates.  I asked
if we were assembling the cast for a Wagnerian opera. That comment caused
considerable merriment.

Gustavo was exceptionally up tight.  He just had been on an earlier
expedition that cost a great deal and found nothing.  Helmut was a relaxed
and casual Dane. He had recently completed a best-selling book on fertility
rituals. Someone asked him what was the secret to his success?  He said it
was full frontal illustrations. I later got a copy of the book. He was a
gifted and preceptive author, but the illustrations were superb.

We acquired in a new, high resolution radar-imager and it discovered what
looked like a narrow road or path leading from the temple in the direction
of the spring. There was an upper level of debris that obscured the path
beneath. We had to clear the debris.  Wotan and Siegfried were big
men. Wotan was a muscleman and Siegfried was fat. They were in an informal
contest between them and my English ditch diggers, Hank and Georgy as to
who could uncover the most.

I thought my guys would win easily, but Siegfried had muscles under the
blubber. The were well matched. Helmut and I looked over the debris for
possible finds. It was slim pickings at first.

I had a reputation for being lucky. Lucky isn't the same thing as
brilliant, but it sure looks that way. The path did not exist. It was an
overturned wall made of a local stone. The underside of the wall was a
continuous sculpted bas-relief of religious rites and festivals.

The reliefs were not fine Greek or Roman works.  They were done by local
craftsmen.  While they were simple depictions of fertility rites to the
Celtic-Roman participants they were bawdy, obscene and arousing to us. Had
the Victorians discovered them, they never would have seen the light of
day.

"There must be every sexual position known to man shown here!" Helmut said.

"I know a few others," Roddy remarked. Helmut looked at Roddy
strangely. Somehow, I thought it was more than curiosity.

The wall was 10 meters long and had been pushed over so most of the stones
were in order. If we hadn't been in England, I would have thought it had
been toppled by an earthquake. It was clearly important to excavate them in
order so the reliefs would be easily reconstructed.

The stones were between 20 and thirty pounds each. We rearranged the crews,
do the bigger men were working on the tumbled wall. I had no problem
lifting a 20-pound stone but lifting stones for three or four hours
straight was not realistic.

Hank and Georgy had no problem with heavy labor. Wotan and Marco joined
them.  We moved a few stones as a test. The stones were in good condition
and didn't break. We then discovered that many stones were inscribed in
Latin, apparently describing the rituals.

I realized that the wall had fallen over before and had been re-erected. It
became clear that the men who set it up the second time couldn't read. The
stones were in the wrong order.

While several men in the group could translate Latin, I had also worked
with Anglo-Saxon writers and had translated directly from
manuscripts. Anglo-Saxon script is dissimilar to formal Latin
inscriptions. I thought the script was precursor for the later Anglo Saxon
script.  There were misspellings in the inscription. I had a feeling the
scribe who wrote or copied the inscription wrote correctly, but the men who
carved the work were illiterate and were simply copying the designs of the
letters. This reminded me of the graffiti of semi-literate men.

While the press covered the discovery of the carvings as ancient porn, I
thought it was a manual of techniques to deal with impotence. It was a
how-too book in stone. The only ancient equivalent were Indian temple
sculptures.

I was interviewed by the BBC and managed to sound intelligent.  I admit I
think of myself as being intelligent, but that doesn't always come through
on the television. While the reporter called it an ancient sex manual, I
suggested it was a more likely a medical manual. For a man infertility was
a huge threat to his family and their future. It seemed to me that it was
much more than a dirty joke in stone. It was an effort to aid the
afflicted.

That seeme to have some impact on the coverage.  It turned the excavation
from bring a dirty joke into a serious enterprise. I am no fool. A serious
enterprise with multiple erect cocks is much more interesting that a
serious enterprise without cocks.

We were a heavily male expedition largely because of the heavy labor
involved. Some of the heavy lifting was difficult for Hank and Georgy, and
they were used to moving dirt and stone on a daily basis.

The detailed cleaning of the stonework was done in a
restoration-preservation lab, with mostly women doing the work. It was
tedious and difficult work, and the results were impressive and well
covered by the media.

Our male clubhouse at Gustem Hall was busy. Some of our men recognized
members of the fraternity in the German and Italian contingent. Wotan and
Marco got along very well with my ditch diggers.

Gustavo was a prissy, obsessed with detail man, but he was not afraid to
get into the mud. A BBC photo of him dragging a sculpture out of a flooded
ditch made him look like a he-man. He came home with me to shower before he
could get into the 4x4's to go to his headquarters.  He was that dirty.

Gustavo was not shy about his body. He wasn't a body builder, but he was in
good shape. He had a hairy body as is typical of many Italian men and a
plump, uncut cock resting on good sized balls. Once the first layers of
dirt went down the drain, Gustavo looked at me.

He asked if I were Jewish.  I told him no, that circumcision was typical
for most American men. "Your cock head is large," he remarked. "In Italy
you see the head only when a man is excited.

"It's usually exposed in the showers at home. I admit talking about cocks
tends to excite it," I said.

Gustavo laughed, "Cocks are usually ready to play at any excuse or
pretext," he said. "I think that is men's nature."

"We have been excavating images of excited cocks for a week. There must be
a hundred of them so far," I said.

"There are 147 images of cocks so far," he observed.  I must have looked
surprised he knew the number. "But who is counting," he added. We laughed.

"Do you think all of these images are for ritual purposes?" I asked. "I can
tell you from personal experience, they have a non-ritual effect on my
cock."

"They have the same effect on my tool," Gustavo said. "We pretend cocks are
for purely reproductive purposes. One would be an incredibly simple man not
to discover the cock's recreational uses. What did you do on long dark
nights without televisions?" We laughed.

"It is so handy too," I added. "It is always nearby and no more than an
arm's length away. The Romans' were shy about it, but the Greeks seem to
have celebrated it."

"Is your approach to cocks Roman, Greek or Medieval?" Gustavo asked.

"I would guess it's more Greek than Roman, although I bet my cock would get
a workout at the Saturnalia," I said. The mud and dirt were gone from
Gustavo's body.  I leaned over and sucked his semi-erect cock.

"Is it private here?" he asked.

"Yes, everyone here shares the same interests," I said. "You are with
likeminded men."

"I have a wife and children back in Rome," he said. "I do enjoy some sexual
variety. Do you promise not to have my baby?" We laughed again. I returned
to sucking him.

I peeled back the skin hood that sheathed his cock head and licked and then
took the knob into my mouth, licking the tender underside. A single glob of
Italian man seed spurted from his cock. I understood that Gustavo's
interest in man sex wasn't casual.

I pulled off. "Do I need to hold back, or do you want to shoot now?"  I
asked.

"Would you milk me now?" he asked. I returned to my sucking duties. He had
a few more squirts over the next ten minutes, before he fully drained his
balls. He seemed calm as he unloaded but the ejaculations were impressive.

"Should I suck you?" he asked. "Is that expected here?"

"I enjoyed it and you enjoyed it.  I think we are even," I said.

"I could have Marco suck you.  He loves it," Gustavo said. I told him I
picked my own playmates. We got dressed and he went to his headquarters. It
was a quiet night for me. I was translating some of the inscriptions and
admiring the inventive sculptures.

The next day's field work was cut short by rain. I was standing under a
tent when Marco came over to me. "The professor told me you are a good
man. It is crowded in our Headquarters, there is no privacy," he said. I
knew what he wanted, and I knew I what I should say.

"My bedroom is private," I said.  That was not the firm rejection I
intended.

A little later I was back at Gustem Hall in my shower with Marco.  Loring
joined us and Marco didn't bat an eye. Apparently, Marco had met Loring
earlier. Loring was more friendly than usual with Marco in attendance. I
assumed a warm bedroom and large shower was better than behind some bushes
near the excavation. It also simplified things. Loring and Marco when
straight to sex and included me. There was none of tentative testing the
waters before we got down to sex.

None of us were exactly amateurs.  I suspected Marco wanted to fuck. Loring
sat on the bed and I bent over to suck him, and Marco took the opportunity
to fuck me. Marco liked long deep strokes, followed by almost frantic
pounding. That was good for me.

If increased precum flow is any indicator, it was even better for Loring. I
later found out that Marco and Loring were close, and Loring was excited to
watch his partner in action. When Loring took over the fucking duties,
Marco sucked me, and he took my load with obvious enthusiasm. After Marco
took my load, he then returned to fuck me until he added his load to
Loring's.

The next day, we were moving at a good pace on the sculptures and we all
got along well.  Marco was doing the preliminary cleanup on one of the
sculped slabs. He was hosing off the mud adhered to the back of a slab. He
called to me. He had found letters scraped on the back.

The letters were more graffiti than an inscription. After we got rid of
most of the mud, the letters spelled Hu Hoc Fecit, Hu Made This. It was the
artist or the carver's signature. Rare doesn't come close to describing the
inscription. Except for on Greek vases, ancient artists never signed their
works.

I thought Hu was probably Hugh. A native Briton's name might not have a
Latin equivalent. Hu could be the phonetic equivalent.  If that was true,
we had discovered the first signature of a British artist

I had hoped we could have cleaned up the slab and done a more detailed
examination, but work leaked out. The BBC camera crews were back in
hours. Of course, it was a sensation. Since an American and Italian
discovered the inscription, it was big news in the United States and in the
European Union.

I was interviewed and tried to emphasize the scholarly significance of the
discovery. Marco was interviewed and his Italian approach to English was
much enjoyed. I noticed that while he was enthusiastic, every fact was
correct, and he minimized his role working for the brilliant American
Doctor. I mentioned Marco's hawk eye for spotting the inscription and gave
credit to the exceptional crew.

One of the BBC men, Townson Price was particularly interested. The top tier
of cultural and scientific men at the BBC were getting old and Townson was
trying to be their replacement. He was educated and had a beautiful deep
voice. Townsend was in his late thirties, bald and bearded. I suspected the
beard was to give him an older, more professorial look.

I was surprised when Kenneth asked him to stay for dinner. Townson was with
a cameraman, Nigel, who was part of the reportorial team. Townson was
trying to develop a more informal approach to science. This included
unscripted interviews with stunning photographs and video clips.

Kenneth did not invite Townson by accident. Townson was a friend of a
friend of Kenneth and the friend thought they shared sexual interests.
Townson was a noted man about town, often seen with society beauties. A
secluded country estate was an ideal place for Townson to enjoy alternative
pleasures.

Townson interviewed the senor leadership and the excavators who did the
digging. That was recorded by BBC senior cameraman. Nigel was a specialist
in photographing inanimate objects. He selected a panel of the relief and
got Hank and Georgy to position it, so it faced the original direction, to
the south-east.

Nigel didn't use artificial light. He photographed it at dawn, nine, noon
and so forth. As the sun moved minor elements caught the light and became
prominent. At dawn, the genitalia were in shadow, by nine they were well
illuminated with shadows picking out details. At noon, the light tended to
bleach out details, but by early afternoon, the cocks were in shadow again,
but the asses were illuminated. It was possible the sun dictated the
progress of the ceremonies and rituals. The photographs were beautiful and
after a while, you hardly noticed the genitals.

Kenneth immediately liked Townson, and they hit it off. I think they were
compatible personally, professionally, and sexually. He planned a formal
dinner with some friends and the local elite. He wasn't popular with the
locals, but the success of the excavation and the massive media coverage
changed their minds. The inns, taverns and pubs in the area were
overflowing with the excavators, and the potential for tourists was even
greater. A BBC celebrity was icing on the cake.

Lowly staff members were not included. That wasn't pure snobbery. Kenneth
was in the closet. That had to do with old friends of his parents. He had
finally made good and being gay would tarnish him.  That was good for
me. I'm not a good small talk man. the party was in a swank hotel ten miles
away. That way no one got to see the house and see how he was living.

Townson's wife was coming so there was to be no hint that Nigel existed.
Nigel bunked with me. Hank told me Nigel's virgin days were well in the
past.