Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2005 18:01:22 -0800 (PST)
From: Sin Titulo <sintitulo2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bone Hunter IV

Bone Hunter IV
by
Sin Titulo


	I begged Hasem to let me finish the cradling of the
bones, so I could make arraignments
to have them shipped to Philadelphia so the experts
could begin the long and arduous process of separating
fossilized bone from stone matrix.  The size of the
fossil indicated that the process could take years.  I
was anxious to get it in progress, so that I could
begin work on my paper announcing it to the world.
First, the article would be published as a scientific
paper with a select readership of people who would
understand the significance of the find, and perhaps
be able to contribute something to the understanding
of the differences I already saw in the bones.  The
second piece I'd write would be for the mass
readership of Natural History or perhaps Nature
magazines.  There might also be a photographic essay
later to be published in National Geographic.
	Hasem advised me that he probably could not supply
men from the tribe due to the period of mourning
imposed by islamic law for his father.  However, he
thought he might be able to inveigle the government to
send some men from Marrakech to assist in the project.
 He seemed to understand my need to get the details
handled to prevent anything going askew before the
culmination of my project.  He said he'd do his best,
and left me and the boy standing in the sand watching
him ride away on his camel vanishing into the velvet
starry night.
	I sat for a long time watching the heavens reel above
my head, lying on my sleeping bag, which I'd arranged
on the sand in front of my tent.  Many thought passed
through my head, but I found myself again and again
drifting back to the boy, and what I was going to do
with him.  He sat hunched on his heels watching me in
the darkness silent but attentive.  I realized that if
I stirred even momentarily, he would rise to his full
height as if anticipating something I might want.
Finally, I told him to go to sleep.  It must have been
approaching midnight, when he waded through the sand
to his pile of rags.  In the moonless darkness, I
couldn't see him, but after a few minutes, I thought I
could hear him huffing and moaning quietly and thought
he was crying.
	Raising up on my elbow, I spoke lowly to him asking
if he was ill.  The gentle sobbing stopped instantly,
and after a moment, I felt his hand on my leg.  He's
come to me so silently through the sand that I hadn't
heard anything at all.  I sat up, and put out my hand,
feeling for his head but instead of hair, encountered
his bare shoulder.  He sighed, and lowered himself in
the sand next to my makeshift bed.  He put out his
hands, and gently passed them over my face and body
feeling of me through my clothes in every part.  I
found myself beginning to get hard, and my breathing
was coming in labored gasps.  He leaned over me and I
felt him put pressure on my chest with both his hands,
and then quickly place himself astride my body.  My
hands involuntarily went to his hips, and found them
warm and full of naked life.  His erection was rising
between his thighs hidden from my sight, but not my
touch.  Heat radiated from him and washed over me
causing me to break into a sweat.  My own hardness
pressured his naked buttocks, and I felt him rocking
gently over me, my clothing causing friction and a
kind of sexual energy that seemed to put off sparks of
light into the velvet darkness.  I wanted to be naked
with him on the sand.
	I released his softly pulsing body and began trying
to remove my shirt.  My fingers fumbled with buttons
that seemed to take on a life of their own refusing to
do my bidding.  The boy realized what I was doing,
having passed his soft warm hands over mine, and with
a tug, pushed my hands away and began to work on the
recalcitrant buttons himself.  Finished, he spread my
shirt open exposing my chest to the coolness of the
night.  My nipples were both standing erect both from
the friction of his touch, and the sudden coolness of
the air.  He passed his gentle fingers over them, and
send a thrill of pleasure shivering through my body.
Who ever had taught this boy about sex with men, had
been a master teacher.
	He raised his torso up on his legs and I felt him
attack my belt  buckle.  In the dark, I tried to help
by relaxing my body as much as I could manage, and
felt him finally tug my pants down around my knees.  I
wanted them off, and spoke in a husky voiced whisper
for him to take my boots off and make me naked.  He
wasted not a second before he had me lying on my bag
totally nude, and holding my hardon in a tight fist.
He felt his way back to my body, and finding the tower
of my flesh, he attacked it with gusto, sliding his
tongueless mouth down to where his wet lips
encountered my fist.  He had a good four inches of me
inside his mouth.  He played on my shaft with his
teeth lightly, while his fluttering fingers roamed
around my sensitive groin area.  I sighed, and let go
of my hardness, and went back to holding his slowly
rotating hips.  He had started a soft sucking on my
shaft, and I felt my toes begin to curl involuntarily.
 My breathing became labored, and my chest was
heaving.  I felt myself rising to his occasion, and
just as my nuts pulled up tight getting ready to blast
his tonsils, he grabbed my twin nips, and with a moan,
twisted hard, sending a wave of agony and pleasure
through me as I sprayed and humped my jism deep into
his throat.
	When he finally came up off me, he was gasping for
air himself, and as he released me from his mouth, he
let my still hard cock fall across my stomach with a
wet slap.  He lay down across my torso, with his sweat
moist body, and laid his head on my shoulder.  I put a
hand on his head, and stroked my callused fingers
through his invisible hair.  He moaned softly and
adjusted the lie of his own torso on mine, and began
to make little nursing sounds as he nibbled and sucked
my neck and earlobe.
	I could feel his hardness pressed into my own
slightly softened cock.  He was so hard, it felt like
I had an iron bar pressing into my flesh.  I whispered
to him that I wanted him to use his hardness on my
hole.  I felt him shudder in my arms, and he stopped
nibbling and sucking my neck to raise up on his hands.
 I felt him slip off me and lift my legs with his
strong arms.  It took but a moment, before I felt his
flaring cockhead pressuring my sphincter.  I relaxed,
and felt him smearing saliva across  my tightness.
Once he was in position, he pushed into me without
resistance, and I felt full and complete once again.
I tried to relax my chest to breathe evenly to fill my
restricted lungs with as much of the sweet desert air
as possible.  Once adjusted to his size, we began to
rock in unison slowly at first, but gradually picking
up the insistent motion.  I love having a big cock
shoving into my gut and then withdrawing to leave an
emptiness that would soon be refilled.  How something
I'd had no inkling of just a few weeks earlier, could
become so central to my being a complete and happy man
was unexplainable.
	As I lay there, with him pressed tightly against me,
I tried to remember if I'd ever had homosexual
leanings before I met Hasem.  Nothing came to mind,
and we seemed to melt together with our loving motion
sending us both to the heavens of ecstasy.  When he
began to thrust more urgently into my body, I could
feel him beginning to reach his edge.  For some
inexplicable reason, his impending release had an
effect on me, and I felt my nuts tightening in their
sack preparing to cum along with his climax.  He
grunted in my ear, and I felt him go rigid in my hole,
and then begin a thrumming pulse that sent shivers
through the both of us as we came in unison.  The
darkness and the soft night, worked their magic on our
tired bodies, and we cuddled with each other drifting
across the starry sky in and out of sleep.
	Sometime before dawn, I awoke with him sobbing softly
on my shoulder again.  I stroked his hair, and he
turned his tongueless mouth to my ear, and I felt his
breath warm on my lobe, and knew he was awake.  We lay
there in silence watching the sky overhead turn softly
from the velvet black of night, to the peaches and
cream of early dawn.  We rose together, both sporting
piss hardons, and made our way to the latrine hole
behind the tent.  I held him and he mine, and as the
hardness left our members, we stood there filling the
pit with foaming urine, laughing as the streams
crossed and warred with each other.  He finished
first, and dropped to his knees and took what remained
of mine into his mouth, swallowing slowly, savoring
the flavor.
	The thought swept through my mind that I wanted to
try his.  When I finished, he rose up on his legs, and
I slipped to my knees and engulfed his glans.  I
sucked the softness, driving my tongue beneath his
foreskin, tasting the acid bite of his fresh urine
trapped there.  He sighed, and began to grow hard
again.  As his shaft lengthened I began to let it
slide across my tongue and down my throat tasting the
dried essence of my own juices from the night before.
My head seemed to spin in delirium, and I began to
suck more forcefully.  His hardness expanding and
beginning to hump my face with some energy.  His large
dark hands found my head, and before I knew what was
happening, he was deep into a serious fuck of my
throat.  I could do nothing but relax into the
thrusting.  I felt used and even abused, but beneath
it all, I felt like I had been waiting for it for all
of my life.  When he came, he pulled out and sprayed
his hot sticky cum across my upraised face.  The
stinging ropes lashed across my nose and cheeks,
hanging loosely from my closed eyelashes, until he
finally had given all he could.  Then without wasting
a moment, he dropped down beside me, and began sucking
the strings of his own essence off my face.  I knew if
he'd had a tongue, he'd have gently cleaned me with
it.

	Over Arab coffee he'd made, we sat and stared
silently at each other.  I had no idea what he was
thinking, but my mind was going over what Hasem had
told me about my relationship with the boy would be
from now on.  I sipped the dark sweet brew, and
wondered what his name was.  Even though Hasem had
said I could call him what I wished, I felt that if he
had a name his family had given him it would be
inappropriate for me to call him something new.  I
puzzled over how I could figure it out.
	As the sun rose toward the eight AM point in the
clear blue sky, I spoke to him telling him that I
wanted to go to the dig site to check it out.  He
stood immediately, and shouldered my back pack.  I
tried to take it from him, but he resisted, so it was
just easier to let him carry the load.  As we set out
for the dig, he strode out ahead of me as if he knew
where we were going.  To my knowledge, he had not seen
the dig site.  But after a few minutes walking, it was
clear he was headed there unerringly.  I wondered how
he knew as we approached the site, he speeded up his
pace, and I trotted along behind him marveling at how
his graceful movements carried him across the shifting
sands of the dunes that made up the ancient shoreline
of the vanished sea.
	At the dig site, He sat on a stone outcrop encrusted
with mollusk sea-life from the ancient seabed, and
examined the small shells and fronds in the stone,
while I did a careful examination of the larger
skeleton of the Plesiosaur.  Everything seemed to be
in order and most of the big seagoing lizard had
already been encased in plaster casts and lay
scattered like huge flakes of white plaster across the
ancient island.  I estimated that if Hasem could get
me six good men from the government, I could be ready
to ship the plaster encased bones in another two
weeks.
	About mid day, the boy stood suddenly, and ran to
where I was bent over a still exposed bit of bone, and
jerked on my sleeve.  I looked up, and he made
motions, I couldn't interpret, and without pointing,
which is considered ultimately rude in Arab culture,
he looked intently out across the white salt glare of
the seabed.  I looked where he was looking, but could
see nothing but the distant expanse of dunes that
marked the shoreline.  As I looked, gradually I
noticed a thin veil of dust rising against the stark
blue backdrop of sky.  I pointed, and he immediately
pulled my hand down to my side.  I looked at him and
saw he was frightened again.  His eyes wild in heir
sockets rolling with fear.  A fleck of foamy saliva
had appeared at the corner of his mouth.  He moaned
with terror, and suddenly began whirling around like a
dervish grabbing my equipment and stuffing it back
into my pack.  He shouldered the pack, and again
tugging at my sleeve, urged me back toward my camp.  I
shrugged, and being nearly finished in any case with
what I'd set my self to accomplish that morning, I
followed him.
	He trotted faster and faster, until he was nearly
running, he'd get several yards ahead of me before
turning and using both hands motion me to hurry.  We
reached the camp in about ten minutes, and he pulled
off my pack, and se about burying his mound of dirty
rags in the nearest dune.  He used a bit of canvas I
used to cover things with when the wind blew to smooth
the sand over his cash.  When he'd finished, he ducked
into the tent, and when I slipped through the flap, he
was nowhere to be found.  I looked under the cot, and
in the knee hole of my makeshift desk.  Nothing.  He'd
vanished.  I went back out and looked for footprints
that might indicate he'd lifted the back edge of the
tent and gone off across the desert, but nothing of
the kind was present.  He still had to be inside my
tent.
	I glanced at the horizon and saw the dust had grown
more distinct and much closer.  I sat in my chair, my
eyes shaded by the big felt fedora I liked to wear in
the heat of the day, and watched as tiny dark specks
suddenly appeared at the top of a distant dune.  The
three specks paused monetarily on the dune lip, but
then vanished behind the dune in front as they came on
toward my camp.
	I poured myself a couple of fingers of Scotch, and
waited for the riders to arrive.  It took the better
part of an hour, before I could make out the flowing
black robes and stately camels of three Tuareg men.
These were the so called blue men of the Sahara.
Their dark robes were dyed with the murex mollusk, in
use in this part of the world since before the
Egyptian civilization had arisen five thousand years
before.  The sweat of their bodies, leached color out
of the darkly dyed cloth their robes were made of, and
in the mix, turned their skin a rich violet blue.  As
they approached, I could see they all held ancient
muzzle loading firearms in their crossed arms.  None
of the three were bothering to hold the reigns of
their beasts, but instead were guiding the wooly
camels with knee pressures and clicking sounds with
their tongues.
	They brought their camels to a stop in unison, and
using the strange clicking sounds, the three beasts
dropped to their knees, and the three tall thin and
very blue men stepped off their backs into the sand
without taking their curious eyes off me once.  They
stepped forward and as a team of dancers, dropped to
the typical Arab hunker facing me.  This was a clear
indication that they expected a show of hospitality.
I got out of my chair, and went to my evaporating
water bag.  The evaporation process kept it a little
cooler than it was in the plastic bottles I'd had
shipped it in allowed.  I offered them the water, and,
as one they fished in their dark robes and withdrew
small bowls which they held out to me.  I filled them
from my water bag, being careful not to spill.  Water
to these people was precious, and spilling might not
be considered sane in their eyes.  The all supped
their drink noisily, in the Arab manner, to show that
it was appreciated.  They'd never utter a word of
thanks, but their slurping sounds was considered
thanks enough.
	Once the water ritual was completed, they sat
hunkered for several minutes unmoving except for their
eyes which roamed over every inch of the camp.  I was
beginning to think they were casing the joint when the
man in the middle spoke in clear Arabic.  He asked
point blank where the other man was.  I told him the
truth that I didn't know, that he'd vanished like a
Djinn when he's seen their dust coming.  This
information seemed to upset them.  They conferred in
undertones for a bit before falling silent again.
They seemed a little less at home since I'd told them
the boy had vanished.
	"Do you know this Djinn well?"  The same man spoke.
	"I didn't say he was a Djinn.  I said he vanished
like a Djinn.  But I have only known him two days.  He
came to my camp."
	"Why do you keep a Djinn?  They are wicked beings."
	"I told you. . ."
	"If you keep a Djinn, you will find one-day that he
has taken your soul."  His interruption was
preemptive.  I fell silent, wondering what these men
wanted.  After a long silence, the man in the middle
spoke again.  "We have tracked this Djinn for several
months.  He is very wicked.  He has taken the souls of
two men of our tribe."
	"How so?  Did he kill them?"  The three shook their
heads in unison.  They were silent for a while before
the one on the left decided to speak.
	"He did womanly things to them.  They have lost the
way of men."  They all three watched me carefully for
a reaction.  I tried to remain calm.  Maybe this is
why the boy was frightened of other Arabs.
	"What sort of womanly things did this Djinn do to
your men?"  They looked at each other with sidelong
glances.  It seemed like a long time before the one on
the left spoke again.
	"He used his penis on them like they were whores."
	"And this makes him a Djinn?"
	"How else can you understand why strong men with
wives and families would allow themselves to be used
like whores?"  I almost laughed.
 	"I tell you this man you seek, is no Djinn.  He may
have the power to vanish, but it is not magic.  An I
can also tell you that if he treated two of your
tribe's men like whores, it is because they wished it.
 This man is but a boy."  They bored holes in me with
their eyes while I spoke.
	"A boy who is capable of turning two grown men into
women so that now they have lost interest in their
wives, and spend their time closed away in a tent
practicing what the Djinn has taught them. . ."
	"I'd say these men wanted the boy to show them what
he knows."
	"Bash  Raah!"  The man in the center almost shouted.
An Arab curse if I ever heard one.
	"These men were strong warriors.  Tuareg men do not
practice the ways of women unless a Djinn has worked
his magic on them."
	"There are no Tuaregs born into this manner?"  They
were silent again.  Watching me closely.  They
obviously didn't like the way the conversation was
going.  "Well?"
	"If they are, when it is discovered, they are
ostracized.  We do not permit it."  The one in the
center spoke.
	"And what happens to the two whom you say have been
turned this way by this boy Djinn?"
	"Nothing.  They have reached their majority, and are
full members of the tribe.  It is not possible to
remove them without death.  Since they have chosen to
go this road, we will tolerate them until their old
age takes them to Allah."
	"So why do you seek this boy Djinn?"
	"Since he is a Djinn, we will kill him if we can.  It
will prevent him from making others this way."
	"He is very powerful; this boy Djinn."  I decided to
play on their superstitions.
	"So he is a Djinn as we suspect."  I nodded.
	"I have seen him make a whole pool of wriggling fish
vanish."
	"What did he do with them?"  I pointed to my mouth.
	"He made them liquid like water, and sucked them into
his mouth."  The three gasped.  "I have also seen him
make the night turn from blackness to dawn with the
blink of an eye."  The three moaned a little sound.
"This boy is more powerful than the Tuareg people.
This is why he could make women of two brave men so
easily."  The man in the center had broken a sweat
around his partially covered face.  He dropped his
veil, and exposed a mouth missing several teeth.  He
grimaced, making his mouth even more hideous.
	"I advise you to return to your tribe, and leave this
boy Djinn alone before he has his way with all of you
as well."  They gasped, obviously having never thought
that the tables might turn.
	They stood, and as one, remounted their camels, who
had been resting patiently chewing their foul cud
while we talked.  "Tell me efendi," the one in the
center leaned over and addressed me.  "How have you
protected yourself from this Djinn if he has been with
you for two days?"  I thought for a moment and
remembered something Hasem had left with me.
	"I have a magic powder that protects me from the
Djinn."  I went to my pantry trunk, and found the
small tin of red powder Hasem had said was purely a
powdered pepper.  I opened the lid, and handed it up
to the man in the canter.  He examined it carefully,
sniffing.
	"Take a pinch and place it under your tongue.  It
will keep you safe until you return to your tribe.  No
Djinn can cross this  magic.  It is very powerful."
He did as I instructed, and I could see the sweat
break out anew on his face.  The pepper was potent.
He handed it to me trying hard to control himself.  I
handed the container to the man on the left, and he
too took a pinch.  The third man also did the same.
Their faces a mask of cool but I knew their mouths had
been set on fire by the pepper powder.  I pretended to
take a pinch for myself but actually held nothing in
my fingers.  I dropped the invisible pepper under my
tongue, and closed the lid.
	The three whirled their beasts, and trotted off in
the direction from which they'd come.  I watched until
they had become mere specks on the horizon, before
turning back to the tent.  I called the boy, but got
no response.  I looked in the tent, but it was still
empty of life.  I poked around my belongings for
several minutes wondering what could have become of
him.  Under my sleeping bag, I uncovered a curious old
bottle with Arabic writing around the lip.
	"No it couldn't be," I said to myself.  But I
couldn't resist rubbing the bottle a little.  Almost
at the same instant, there was a timid scratching at
my tent flap.  When I threw it open, the boy was
standing there still frightened out of his wits.  He
was covered with sand that had stuck to his sweaty
body.  His beautiful hennaed hair was dusty and
gritty.  I took him in my arms, and felt him relax.
We stood like that for a long time.  Finally, I pushed
him away, and looked into his hazel eyes.  "Maybe you
are a Djinn," I said in English.  "My own Djinn."  I
kissed his cheek, and then his lips.  He seemed to
meld against me.

email:  sintitulo2@yahoo.com