Date: Wed, 18 Dec 2019 00:15:36 -0600 From: John Marris Subject: Milkweed Island - Part 7 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. [several weeks later] Mora stretched his dark muscled body across the green woven mat of fronds to carefully attach it to the frame without stepping on the delicate decorative weave. He was helping his brother-in-law assemble their contribution to the Chief's Village Great Festival float. Although Mora lived a good distance from the Chief's Village, the island's main village, his household was still considered a part of that domain for political and religious purposes. Mora gave an apologetic look to his brother-in-law, a short quiet man with a soft hairless face except for his mustached upper lip. It was embarrassing that Mora's sons were not around to help assemble the Great Festival decorations. Simal was probably off to the Eastern Village where Mora knew he had a girl. Pecha had spent the last few weeks running around the island with his friends on the secret business of the Chief. Mora wouldn't have believed such a story except that he had received a message from the Chief himself confirming this and requesting his forbearance. Akota was mooning over the woodsmen and the ancestors only knew where Betsu was. Only little Kala was around to help with what should be a family occasion. Mora's wife came out of the hut as the men put the finishing touches on the ceremonial float. "We need to seed the porridge Love," she said. The Great Festival involved a lot of cum-infused dishes and boar ball-infused liquor. Men often abstained from cumming for several days before the festivities to make sure their balls were full enough to make the ceremonial food. Chewing milkweed helped to swell men's nuts with seed as well. Mora winced to think that his boys were running around the island and not here to help seed the food. Certainly Pecha and Simal were old enough to contribute proper loads. Damn them. Mora shot an apologetic look to his brother-in-law and asked him if he could help. He agreed. "Kala, you can help Uncle and I make a enough seed for the porridge since your good-for-nothing brothers aren't here." The six-year-old shot up from the decorations he was tying to the float and grabbed his uncle's hand, leading him around to the back of the hut were the porridge was simmering. Mora put away the tools and then followed them. By the time he arrived his brother-in-law was stroking his cock near the simmering pot. Kala was crouched between the man's legs nursing on his dusky balls. Mora knew the man must have already shot a load into his own family's porridge earlier that morning. He might not have much left to give. Mora decided to help, crouching at the man's side and taking his semi-hard cock in his mouth. The flavor was rich and musky. Mora could tell from the amount of precum oozing out that his brother-in-law could still make a significant contribution. He looked down at Kala who had managed to stuff both of the man's large balls in his tiny pink mouth. Kala's bright eyes met his father's and they grinned. Both of their mouths were filled with manhood. Their lips nearly touched amidst the dense pubes at the base of his cock. Perhaps this festival would be a good one after all. -Akota- It was afternoon on the first day of the three-day Great Festival. Portable shrines and floats belonging to households of the Chief's Village had been moved to the Great Temple grounds. Throughout the island, the shrines of other villages had been moved to their respective nearby temples too. Tomorrow morning, the islanders from other villages would lead processions to the Great Temple, and by tomorrow evening nearly all the people of the island would be gathered on the Great Temple's grounds. This full-island gathering is what set the Great Festival apart from the other seasonal festivals. Akota and Gep ran naked around the village visiting the spreads of food and drink that the local residents had set out for guests; roasted pork, seared mackerel, guinea egg omelettes, chargrilled yams, fruit, cakes and fermented coconut juice. Music and laughter filled the air. Some men who had spent the day drinking boar ball liquor were dancing or wrestling around. Even the woodsmen who rarely left their camp were there. Gep caught sight of Mako, their favorite woodsman, heading into the Great Temple grounds and the boys decided to follow him. The sinewy young man passed through the grounds towards the Great Shrine at the back. He did not notice the two small boys following behind. All around were people picnicking, playing music, dancing and setting up the floats. In one corner of the walled-off temple grounds a group of teenage acolytes was cooking a huge vat of ceremonial porridge. One boy who looked about fifteen was masturbating over the great pot while another young acolyte sucked and played with his nipples, helping the stroking boy to climax. Akota stopped for a moment to watch the acolyte. The cockhead of the boy's long thin cock was unable to emerge from its tight foreskin. On each downstroke, the tip of his cockhead poked through, straining to escape from the snug ring of ragged red. This tension caused his piss slit to yawn open with each downstroke and made his cock look to Akota like a screaming baby chick. After a moment, Akota saw a bead of white liquid appear on the slit. A second later the boy shot five shots of thin watery cum in to the gurgling stew. The other acolytes clapped the boy on the back and then another teen stepped up and undid his red loincloth. Akota's mouth watered at the thought of tasting the porridge filled with fresh young seed but he didn't want to lose track of Mako. He cast one last look at the acolytes. The boy who had just cum in the porridge was resting on a nearby rock. The youngest acolyte was between his legs sucking the remnants of seed out from his softening cock. He found Gep hiding behind one of the big columns of the Great Shrine. The two watched as Mako approached the shrine to give an offering. At the center of the shrine was a silver bowl. In the center of the bowl were two gold-leafed balls that represented the testes of the island itself. Mako undid his loincloth. His genitals swung free in a snarl of damp tangled pubes and dusky skin. Even in the low light Akota could see the large vein that ran down Mako's cock. Contrary to what one might expect, the Great Festival was not a popular time to make offerings at the shrine. Most family men had drained their balls dry helping to prepare the ceremonial foods, such as porridge and cum-filled sweet cakes. Only the woodsmen, who did not traditionally prepare such foods, had seed enough to offer the ancestors. Mako began stroking his dark pendulous cock. An skinny acolyte who looked to be sixteen years old stepped out of the shadows offering to help. Without a word, Mako widened his stance allowing the boy space to crouch between the woodsman's muscled thighs. The acolyte took Mako's balls covered in sweaty matted hair gently into his expert mouth and began to suck and tease them, coaxing out a suitable load to honor the shrine. Jealousy burned in Akota's gut. He knew well from his experiences over the last few weeks the rich musk that was filling the acolyte's mouth. The nine year old could distinguish Mako's flavor from any other man he had ever pleasured. It was a dark manly taste infused with the power of his strong, work-weary body. Many men raved over the balls of Akota's older brother, Pecha, which had a light fresh musk and made lots of cum that was naturally thin and sweet, even when he wasn't chewing milkweed. But Akota now preferred the scent and seed of the young woodsman. After a few minutes Mako grunted. The acolyte slinked out from between his legs and took over stroking Mako's dick as the woodsman shuffled up to the bowl. With another grunt, Mako launched seven thick white shots over the golden orbs and across the silver bowl. Akota watched as his butt cheeks flexed with each successive shot. He thought of the blazing heat that must be coming off of the woodsman's asshole and pretended his tongue was there. Once Mako's orgasm was done, he staggered back to a long polished log that served as a bench and began putting on his loincloth. Meanwhile, the acolyte whispered a few prayers to the ancestors that allowed him to become a proxy for their hallowed spirits. Then he lowered his head into the bowl and licked the cum off of the balls and the sides of the bowl. Once Mako was dressed, the acolyte thanked him for his offering and directed him out from under the Great Shrine's canopy. Akota and Gep crept around the column so as not to be seen. Both boys had fierce erections. As they passed, the acolyte noticed the boys staring and gave his sticky pink lips a lick. Then he smirked. Out in the sun of the temple grounds the boys walked around looking at the stalls and half-assembled floats. Neither naked boy was concerned about his erection. It was normal for little boys to have erections and the air was heavy with the scent of milkweed and burning dogwood branches that smelled like soapy cum. All around men were chewing dried milkweed, some of it flavored with fragrant flowers. Even men who normally abstained would chew milkweed at festival time. The milkweed swelled their balls and caused awkward weeping erections under their loincloths. When the front flaps of their loincloths moved aside Akota could see spots of dried precum on the fabric cinched between their legs. Some men who had drank too much boar liquor let their erect cocks poke out from their loincloths. Streamers of precum dangled from their cock heads and danced in the breeze. Decorum was relaxed for the occasion. The boys grabbed some porridge and cakes and found a shady spot to have a late lunch. The porridge was flavored with milkweed and the seed of the Great Temple's teenage acolytes. The actual cum made up very little of the porridge but the milkweed gave it the mild viscous bitterness of cum only sweeter and thicker. The cakes had a sweet paste inside, made with cum and ground milkweed seeds. The lunch filled Akota and Gep's flat little bellies and made their tiny erections hard to the point of painful. Gep was finishing his last cake when he noticed a girl toddler staring at it hungrily. "Go away!" he shouted. Women and girls had their own festival foods. They could not eat the ones made with seed. No woman of the island could ever eat or even touch seed except for the seed from her husband that goes in her belly to make a baby. While Gep was holding the piece of cake back over his shoulder away from the girl, Akota lunged and snapped it from Gep's fingers. The cake squished with cummy goo. The flavor of seed was filled Akota's mouth and made him lightheaded. Later as the boys walked around the temple grounds, they saw preparations for tomorrow night's coming-of-age ceremony. Betsu would be part of the ceremony this year. Akota had swallowed the thin emissions from his wimpy older brother's cock many times before. He was worried that it would not satisfy the priests and that Betsu would not receive his loincloth. It seemed like the priests chose at least one boy to reject each year, and rejection was mortifying for the boy and an embarrassment for his family. Near the pavilion Akota and Gep spotted Chokani, a twelve-year-old boy who they both knew. Chokani's cock had grow a bit since Akota last met him and now he had a thin ring of pubic hair at the base. The naked boy was pacing around nervously and unconsciously pinching his slimy foreskin pucker. "Chokani!" Akota shouted. "Are you getting your cloth tomorrow?" Chokani looked startled and then snapped out of it and greeted the boys. "I hope I can. I am not confident." Akota was touched by his honesty. Most boys bragged and feigned confidence ahead of the ceremony. "Is your seed white yet?" Akota asked. "Sometimes. I've been chewing milkweed all week. My dick won't stop leaking." Chokani pinched a bit of precum off of his foreskin pucker and showed the younger boys. "Can I taste it?" Akota asked. Chokani brought his finger to Akota's face. It was dusty except for the tip which was covered in a thin film of clear slime. Akota could see that the nervous boy had chewed his nails down to the quick. Akota sucked the precum off of Chokani's finger. It was thin and sweet, a result of the milkweed, but underneath Akota could taste the bitter clot of a man's seed. "Tastes manly. You should be fine," said Akota. Chokani's face brightened. "I hope so. My balls are so swollen. They are killing me. I haven't cum in a week." The boy's left Chokani to his worries and walked over to a group of little boys gathering around an older priest. The gray-haired priest had a teenage acolyte by his side. He called the group of prepubescent boys to come and sit around him. He was going to give a demonstration as part of the festival events. "Boys, where does a man's power reside?" asked the priest. "His balls!" "His seed!" cried the boys. "Yes. Very good. And how does this power multiply?" Some of the boys looked confused. Some did not know the word `multiply.' "By sharing seed." offered Akota. All the boys looked his way. Akota realized that he was one of the oldest boys in the group. Most looked to be six or seven years old. They had maybe never participated in this Great Festival activity before. The priest beamed. "Very good. Yes, sharing seed allows men to draw power from one another. The men of this island have shared seed since the first men came here. When you share seed with a fellow man you are drawing power from all the men he has ever shared seed with, all the way back to those first men." "Do you know the best way to share seed with your fellow man so that you give seed and receive seed at the same time?" asked the priest. "Sixty-nining," said Gep. A dozen shaggy heads turned to Gep, then back to the priest to see if the answer was correct. "Yes. You are correct. Boys, why don't you come up here and help me demonstrate the position for these younger lads," the priest said, motioning for Akota and Gep to come forward. Akota and Gep came to the front of the semicircle of boys that had formed. Further back the families of some of the younger boys sat half-watching, chatting and snacking as they kept an eye on the proceedings. Akota saw one young father sitting cross-legged chatting with another man as his toddler buried his head in his lap and teethed on the limp cock hanging out of the side of his loincloth. Akota approached the priest and the acolyte. The priest asked if Akota knew how to sixty-nine. Akota said he did. Then the priest asked him to lie on the ground as the acolyte undid his red loincloth. The acolyte was a tall gangly boy with a weak chin and pimples. Akota guessed he was fourteen. But as he undid his loincloth Akota saw that his cock was long and thin and his balls were big in a long loose hairless sac. The acolyte straddled Akota's head and lowered his crotch to Akota's face. He had no body hair except for a small thin ring of pubes over his cock and a few stray hairs under his arms. His body odor was strong. The priest crouched over the boys and guided the acolytes cock into Akota's open mouth as he explained the finer points of sixty-nining to the crowd of little naked students. Akota took the teenager's cock into his mouth. It was clammy from his damp loincloth. As the acolyte plunged deeper, his big sac covered Akota's nose making it hard to breath. Akota fished an arm through the acolyte's legs and pulled the nuts off his nose. His smell was very spicy, almost like incense, and Akota's cock screamed for attention. Meanwhile the priest was walking around the circle of younger boys prompting them to pair off and get into the same position. Then he moved back to Akota and the acolyte and motioned for the acolyte to begin sucking Akota's furiously hard hairless prick. The acolyte was very skillful and soon Akota had spit the teen's cock out of his mouth and was audibly panting and yelping. As the priest described various techniques that one can do with their mouth, the acolyte would demonstrate on Akota's cock. All around, naked boys licked, sucked and drooled over each others' tiny dicks. The priest then moved behind Akota's head and grabbed the root of the acolyte's sac like and handle. Then he guided the teen's throbbing cock back into Akota's mouth and then deeper and deeper into Akota's throat while explaining to the boys how to control your breathing so that you can take a man's cock all the way into your throat. Akota felt the old priest gently testing his gag reflex, but Akota was more skillful than your average nine-year-old. He had three older brothers. He knew how to slide the pimple-faced acolyte's cock down his throat in between breaths. "Boys can have fun sucking each others dick but you will not become a man without consuming the seed of a man. You must be able to use your throat well in order to coax life-giving seed from his balls," he explained. Akota could hear some snickering from passersby. The priest began walking around giving more instructions and assistance. Then the acolyte, maybe noticing that Akota's attention was wandering, began sucking his prick in earnest again. He started tightening his lips and rotating his head. He fished a hand under Akota's thigh and began pulling and pawing on his hairless sac, while his other hand began tweaking Akota's nipples. In a moment Akota was dry cumming. Waves of warmth covered his body. Nearby some of the other boys were moaning too. Some were, with the help of the kindly priest, giving their first good blowjob. Some were dry cumming. Some for a second time. Some were still too young to exactly know the feeling they were aiming for but they felt good anyway. As the moans died down and blissful naked boys rolled out of their somersaults, Akota noticed that the acolyte had taken his slimy cock out of his mouth and was sitting on the ground lazily masturbating. The priest summoned everyone to come close. The boys gathered around Akota in a daze on the ground. With a nod from the priest the acolyte re-straddled Akota's head. The priest knelt down in the crowd of boys and began jacking the teen boy's dick with one hand while the other hand was holding the boy's sac out of the way so everyone could get a better view. "I'm not sure you are all old enough to be drinking seed but if not you will be soon," said the priest. "This is the reward of a good sixty-nine. If you and your partner are in harmony, and you both can make seed, sharing seed at the same time is a spiritual experience." Then as if on cue the acolyte spurted thin teen boy cum just above Akota's upturned mouth. The priest had skinned the acolyte's cock all the way back and the piss slit at the end of his pink cockhead yawned open causing the cum shots to fire straight to the back of Akota's open throat. He had to close his throat quickly to keep from choking. The cum was hot and soapy. After a few seconds he managed to fish the cum from the back of his throat and collect it on his tongue so he could stick it out and show them all some of the sacred seed. All around flickered the big brown eyes of a dozen fascinated boys. "I'm sorry boys that I cannot share this lad's seed with all of you today but here's the next best thing," barked the priest, breaking the spell. He brought out a small satchel of sweet cakes and passed them around. "These cakes were made with the seed of our virile acolytes, just like Ajo there. Ajo, I believed you helped make these cakes didn't you?" The stooped lanky boy nodded, seeming embarrassed. Maybe it was because he had just cum. All around little naked boys were devouring the cakes and smearing their face with the cum-infused filling. -Pecha- Pecha woke up on the second day of the three-day Great Festival on the floor of a farmer's hut in the Northern Village. His friends, Toma, Roke and Mika still lay in a tangle under a thick blanket. Pecha hadn't slept well. His stomach was upset. Perhaps it was all the strange new seed he was consuming lately. For most of his young life Pecha had swallowed only the seed of his father, older brother and his local priest, or the occasional visiting family member. Once his friends grew old enough to make cum for each other, they drank down every drop they could make. Still, that meant 10-12 boys and men whose seed Pecha grew up drinking. But now as a part of the Chief's secret guard running official missions around the Island, Pecha found himself hosted in the Eastern Village, the Mountain Village and all the places in between. As an official on the Chief's business he was always treated with hospitality. Even if this didn't mean seed from his host, they always managed to scrounge up at least a son or nephew to honor his arrival and fire a few milky shots down his throat. Pecha used to think there was a lot of variety between the cum of his family members: Simal's was thin, soapy, sweet and copious from all the milkweed he chewed. Father's was thick and bitter. His uncle, Mabo's, was a little salty. But compared to the many different types of seed he had swallowed recently, his family's seed was all the same. The paler, hairier people of the Mountain and Northern Villages, the one's who had breed with invading Ulungi long ago during the wars, had thicker cum with curds that you could squish between your teeth until they melted in the heat of your mouth. The people of the Eastern Village, who put tons of onion and garlic in their food, had garlicky cum. And recently in the run up to the Great Festival, with even those men who usually didn't chewing milkweed, every man was shooting big mouth-filling loads. Maybe this cum cocktail was to blame for the knots in his belly but Pecha suspected it was nerves over the important task at hand. Outside Pecha could hear people preparing to march the village float down the long winding path to the Chief's Village. Last night the villagers had gathered around the float for ritual singing and celebration. The Northerners announced the young boys who would be attempting to get their loincloths at tonight's ceremony in the Chief's Village. Then the mood turned sombre as the village elders decided which of the village girls would be given as a tribute to the Ulungi. There were many tears from her family and friends until the festivities started back up and drowned out the sobs. Pecha had missed the announcement of his younger brother Betsu back home. Father would be furious and Mother would be disappointed. Pecha laced his loincloth between his legs and cinched it up as he walked out of the hut into the dazzling morning sunlight. His eyes had barely adjusted when an old woman grabbed his arm and dragged him towards her house. "Little brother, I need more seed for my porridge. Surely you can help," she purred in her funny Northern accent. Pecha snatched his arm away and walked off into the jungle saying he had to relieve himself. In honesty, although his stomach was gurgling with seed his balls were empty. Since they arrived in the village yesterday he had had to share seed with so many men out of courtesy and ceremony. Then during the night Toma dove under the covers and sucked him off while he was too groggy to fight back. He felt spent. Pecha continued through the underbrush until he really did have to pee. Suddenly the vegetation fell away and he was standing on a rocky cliff overlooking the brilliant blue sea. Unlike the sandy beaches near the Chief's Village, the northern shore was rocky with steep cliffs and hidden coves. There was only one lagoon where boats could safely dock and that was where the Ulungi emissary would be arriving to receive his tributes. Alopane had told the boys that the Ulungi had a spy among them living on the island; an Islander who kept tabs on the politics of the island and helped keep it under Ulungi control. This man met in secret with someone in the emissary's party every year after the ceremonial arrival, while all the island's attention was on the Great Festival. He also sent messages to the Ulungi throughout the year. While the existence of this traitor was known for a while, the island elders had recently discovered his identity, a fisherman from the fishing village. Today Pecha would swim out to the Ulungi catamaran after the official arrival when there should be only one man on board. What he would do there or how that related to the traitor, he did now yet know, but the Chief had promised him that if he played his part well then he should not be in danger. Still, he was nervous. The Ulungi were the stuff of children's nightmares. Taller than most Islanders, they were pale and hairy with hard muscular bodies covered in tattoos and piercings. They were warriors who kept vast swaths of ocean under their sway. Pecha's people had fallen long ago to the Ulungi, but because of the great distance between their island and the Ulungi homeland, the Ulungi did not keep an armed garrison here. As long as they received their annual gifts and young girl tributes they left the Island alone. It was a price that Pecha's people had learned to bear, and one that they had incorporated into their culture and their Great Festival. With piss still dripping from his foreskin, Pecha stuffed his cock back into his loincloth, cinched it up, and headed back to the village. It was an important day and he didn't want to be late. Back at the Northern Village the commotion had quieted down and it looked like the procession had left for the Chief's Village. Suddenly Toma's pale meaty arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him back into the farmer's hut. "Come on idiot. We're not supposed to be here. If that priest or his turds see us it'll be bad for Alopane," Toma hissed. Inside the hut Alopane, the Chief's youngest legitimate brother, sat around an unlit hearth with the host and some other farmers. "Now that the celebration has moved on we will stand out if we stay in the village. We should move to the ridge," growled Alopane. Four men and four teenage boys moved through the underbrush to the ridge. Alopane at the front was strong and stern. He had Pecha walking right behind him. The upward slope brought the man's butt near Pecha's face. His hairy loins radiated heat and power that Pecha could feel. At the ridge the group split into three groups. Alopane had word that the traitor had finished his meeting with the Ulungi. The emissaries were on their way to the Chief's Village. Alopane and two other men would intercept the traitor to force a confession. The boys would head to the lagoon. One man would stay on the ridge to serve as a relay or as backup. "Roke, you will come with us," Alopane said to his teenage brother-in-law. "The traitor has a few sons. Some may be with him. If one goes tearing off I'll need you to catch him." "But my friends," Roke cried. His small expressive face wrinkled with hurt. "This is not a game. They only need three men: Pecha to do the mission, one to swim out if there's trouble and one to run for help. I need you with me." So it was decided. Pecha said goodbye to Roke and then he, Toma and Mika followed the rocky path to the lagoon. After a long treacherous hike the boys came to the tree line that surrounded the beach of the lagoon. They could see the rickety harbor for receiving the Ulungi delegation in the distance. It was empty except for two armed Ulungi guards lounging in the shade. All the Islanders had followed the Ulungi emissary to the Great Festival. "There it is!" hissed Toma, pointing to a large catamaran in the lagoon. The ship was impressive. It was larger than any vessel the Islanders made. Pecha felt scared. "I still think I should be the one to swim out there," complained Toma. "I know a few words in Ulungi. You don't know shit." "I don't want to do it but the Chief insisted that it be me." "Yeah, I know. I still don't get it though. Anyway, if there's any trouble just send me the signal and I'll come kick their asses." Pecha rolled his eyes and undid his loincloth. As soon as he broke the tree line they could be watching. He would have to put up his rouse right away. He dipped his toes in the water and acted as if he were carelessly playing on the shore for a bit. Then, seeing no signs of life on board and taking advantage of the distracted guards on the distant dock, he headed to the boat. As he neared the catamaran, the sounds of his swimming brought a man out from the hull of one of the large canoes. The man waved him away, awkwardly shouting "Go!" in the Island language. Alopane told Pecha that the Ulungi might try to chase him away. `Charm him,' Alopane had said. `Do want it takes to make him comfortable with you. If you feel truly threatened, jump ship and swim away, but try your best to stick out his initial gruffness and make him like you.' Pecha quickly dove under the vessel and came up on the other side. Then he scrambled up into the canoe before the Ulungi sailor could reach him. The sailor was terrifying to behold. He was naked, tall and sinewy with long coarse hair in oily ringlets past his shoulders. His sunburnt skin was dark as an Islanders but also red in a way that Islanders rarely burned. Rows of tattoos covered every inch of the sailor's body. Possibly still in his twenties but maybe older, he was a whip of black and burned flesh. Standing out among the darkness were a row of curious carved white bones piercing the nozzle of his foreskin. This limp sleeve of skin hung past his cockhead at least a finger's length. The bones danced and clattered as the sailor chased Pecha around the deck. `Play the fool.' Alopane's instructions rang in Pecha's head. Pecha started whooping and laughing, pretending it was a game. He hoped the guards on shore wouldn't hear. His laughter made the sailor angry. At one point after Pecha knocked a basket off the woven deck that connected the canoes, the sailor began snarling and cursing in his strange language. Then he reached down into the hull of a canoe and pulled out a wicked curving dagger. Pecha yelped in shock. As the sailor crossed the deck to his canoe Pecha considered jumping overboard. `No. I must do my part. I can't let down the Chief!' The sailor tackled Pecha and pinned him to the hull of the canoe. His weight and strength left Pecha helpless. Then he pulled the dagger to Pecha's throat and the boy went limp with fear. The sailor brought his face closer. He was sneering. His breath stank of booze and fish. Then he hesitated. His expression softened. Pecha tried to calm down. He knew what was happening. It happened all the time. Strangers beamed at him like a friend. The way his lively eyes danced in his small boyish face. The way his dimples flashed and his smooth cheeks flushed with emotion. He was a beautiful boy. Everyone he met, everyone he knew, was kind to him. Everyone except for Toma. But that's what he liked about Toma. Pecha was still too naive to realize that not all people were blessed with easy smiles and changes of heart from strangers. The sailor pulled him off the hull and stood him up. The man was a head taller than Pecha. He looked Pecha over and grunted a laugh. He took Pecha's uniquely long balls into his calloused hand. Pecha flinched. Then the sailor grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. Pecha stared at the beach. He thought about trying for shore but he didn't know where the dagger was. Was it behind the sailor? The sailor rubbed Pecha's firm brown butt. He kneaded it with his rough hands. Pecha shook with fear. "Relax," he growled in a heavy accent. "Island man is woman. Drink man seed. Ulungi fuck woman." Suddenly he pushed Pecha to his knees and drove his head into the hull. Pecha was bent at the waist with his butt in the air. The sailor pinned Pecha's arms behind his back. Deftly he grabbed Pecha's arms with one hand and reached around to clench his fist around Pecha's sac, clamping his balls like a vice. "No move!" the sailor barked. Pecha went limp and the sailor released his arms. Then he began tracing his fingers around Pecha's upturned ass. His gnarly fingers toyed with the few wispy black hairs. The sailor growled. Then he began gently sawing his fingers along the crack of Pecha's ass. More low growling. Pecha looked over his shoulder and saw the sailor had closed his eyes. His grip on Pecha's sac was still tight. Then Pecha saw it. The sailor's cock was stiffening. It was big and the fact that it wasn't tattooed made it look bigger. It ballooned beneath his dusky sunburnt foreskin emerging from a thicket of straight black pubes. The bone piercings pinned his foreskin snout over his growing manhood creating a clattering tassel of skin at the end of his erection. It looked monstrous. The sailor noticed Pecha looking at his cock. "Island man like cock," he laughed. He pulled Pecha's head closer to his cock, still pinning him in the awkward position and maintaining a tight grip on his sac. The foreskin snout hung in snarls and folds of mutilated brown skin. The piercings were made of bone, carved to look like tiny femurs. They were stained yellow with dried piss. The sailor waggled his hips and the ropey flesh jumped sending the bones clattering. He laughed. "One bone one man kill," he said. "I show." The sailor used his left hand to wiggle the lowermost bone piercing out of its hole. It took him some struggling but he refused to release his grip on Pecha's nuts. He finally got the bone loose and brought it to Pecha's face. It was slick with precum and smegma. It smelled like rotten fish. "You clean bone. Open mouth." Pecha tightened his lips and shook his head. He was too scared to speak. "Open mouth!" The sailor gave a sharp tug on Pecha's balls. Pecha yelped. Then slowly, resignedly he open his mouth. The sailor placed the piercing on his tongue. It tasted salty for a moment and then the smell and taste were gone. "Just clean. No eat bone." The sailor fished the other bones out and placed them in Pecha's mouth until he had all six on his tongue. "No speak. No drop bone. Drop bone I kill you." Pecha nodded. Then the sailor closed his eyes and rubbed Pecha's ass again. His erection, which had started to soften, sprang back to life. He took his free hand and began trying to skin his cock. It wasn't easy with one hand. Skinning it back from head to hilt still left a considerable sleeve of skin past the tip, but as soon as he let go the skin all sloughed back in place, trained by years of wearing his piercings. As the sailor struggled to skin his cock one-handed, a glob of frothy white slime drooled out of his snout. Finally he gave up. Pecha felt relieved. He didn't want to see the horror of smegma that he knew was festering beneath the sailor's freakishly long sock of skin. It was all he could smell. The sailor adjusted his position to be directly behind Pecha. It was awkward in the cramped hull. The sailor's hard fleshy cock rested down the length of Pecha's ass. Pecha was confused. He was certain he was going to have to suck the sailor's cock. He gagged at the thought. That stinky snout would go down his throat halfway to his gut. No, it seemed like this guy was more interested in his ass. Anal sex was not openly discussed on the Island. Teenage boys made jokes about it, and many people suspected the priests did it, but no one did it openly. Seed had to go in a woman's womb or a man's mouth. Those were the rules. It seemed like the Ulungi had a different set of rules. The sailor fished a small bottle out of a nearby satchel. He uncorked it with his teeth and poured something on his cock and down Pecha's upturned ass crack. He smeared what felt like oil all over Pecha's butthole. Then suddenly he plunged a finger in. Pecha bolted in pain and shock. Before he could recover the sailor stabbed his finger in again. Pecha panicked and clenched his ass. The pain was completely new for Pecha. For several minutes Pecha tried to repel the sailor's rough fingers by clinching his asshole as tight as he could. "Don't fight!" the sailor barked. Then, giving up on the warmup, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with Pecha's hole. Using his fingers, he stuffed his now oily foreskin snout into the boy. Once it was in, the sailor aimed his long thick dick straight ahead and pushed into Pecha slowly, unstoppably. Pain shot through Pecha's guts and rang in his ears. Fight. Clench. Pain, pain, pain! He wanted to kick or fight but once the sailor began rutting the hurt was too overwhelming. He felt sharp burn in his rectum and a queasy pressure in his gut. Something was wrong. This must be the wrong way to do it. He was being injured on the inside. He wondered if he would die. He wanted to scream but his mouth was full of the sailor's piercings. He ground the little bones into the roof of his mouth. Then, in a moment of panic, he tried to kick at the sailor to push himself away. The sailor punched his temple. His vision went black then returned with white pulses of light. He went limp. As he slumped his ass relaxed a bit. But this only allowed the sailor's shaft to glide more freely, plunging harder and deeper into Pecha's ass. Pecha groaned. Somehow the bones were still in his mouth. His head stopped ringing and the pain rushed in. Pain throbbing at both ends of his body. His left eye began to swell. Both eyes filled with tears. "Help!" Then he saw him. Toma was peering over the side of the canoe, clinging to the outside. Pecha would have shouted in surprise if not for the bones. Toma looked stunned at what he saw but Pecha could tell from his thrusting that the sailor had not noticed Toma. `Go away!' he pleaded to Toma with his bloodshot eyes. Toma nodded towards the sailor thrusting mercilessly into his young bowels. Pecha shot him a death stare and Toma sunk silently out of sight back into the water. More tears welled up. He began to sob. Finally after minutes that seemed like hours he was done. Ten thick jets of cum joined the slurry of smegma, blood and shit burning in Pecha's battered ass. The sailor staggered away to wash off leaving Pecha crumbled in the hull. When he returned he was dripping wet. His limp cock hung like a whiplash halfway to his knees. "Bones," he said, holding his hand in front of Pecha's mouth. Pecha spit the piercings into his hand, unable to look the man in the face. "Good fuck. Good job boy. Now go." Pecha struggled to his feet then staggered to the edge of the canoe. Blood and cum ran down his leg. The dazzling sun and the tears in his eyes made it hard to see. Without looking he tumbled over the edge into the sea. The cold briny water stung places inside his gaping butthole. After a moment of confusion he remembered how to swim. He slowly made his way to shore. He was in a daze. At the shore Toma rushed out from the tree line to drag Pecha off the sand. "Quick. I think the guards at the landing saw you swim back. One of them is coming." The naked boys rushed into the undergrowth and scrambled back to the trail where Mika was waiting. "Wow Pech! He fucked your ass. I couldn't believe it," said Toma. "Are you ok?" Pecha's legs felt wobbly. Every step sent a pain through his rear. But the pain melted in the heat of his embarrassment at Toma's words. "Don't ever say anything about that again! Forget what you heard Mika. It was nothing. Toma didn't see what he said" Pecha charged towards Toma, his red eyes looking wild. "Guys stop," said Mika breaking them up. He looked back and forth between his friends. "Pecha, what happened to your eye?" "I slipped." "Fine. Never mind. I made a mistake," Toma said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. The boys walked down the trail to rendezvous with the man on the ridge. Pecha wondered if Alopane would be there, back already from his mission to confront the traitor. Pecha hoped he wouldn't be. He couldn't face the man right now. "So, did we complete our mission?" asked Mika.