Bone Hunter [Complete Story - all 4 Parts]

[LaloGS]

Bone Hunter
by
LaloGS​

Fiction: This is a story in 4 parts. Enjoy.


The heat was at the edge of being intolerable. The South Moroccan desert was making itself known as I had never known it to before. I was afraid to look at my thermometer for fear of having a suggested heat stroke. It had to be 120 degrees Fahrenheit, and not a stitch of shade to be had. I removed my thick felt hat and wiped my sweaty brow with my already drenched shirtsleeve. I decided to head back to camp for some food, and a drink, however warm the liquid might be.

I looked around at the shimmering horizon to orient myself, and noting my landmarks, struck off at a leisurely clip. The dust that my boots kicked up rose vertically into the sky the day was so airless. The long dry seabed I was traversing dated to the late Cretaceous period, and I’d been three weeks combing its vastness for signs of fossils from that epoch to use in writing my Master’s thesis at Penn State. So far I’d found nothing new or particularly interesting.

Here and there across the plain stony outcrops that had once been small islands in the ancient sea jutted up from the glaring white pan, and I included as many as were feasible in my path back to camp. By the time I reached the third outcrop, I was panting from the heat and exertion of the walk. But as I cursorily glanced over the exposed rock of the ancient island, my breath began to come in gasps. My eyes, I thought, were deceiving me. There, weathering out of the stone was a nearly perfectly preserved skull of the largest Plesiosaur known to Paleontology. The skull was particularly complete, with dual rows of long razor sharp teeth grinning at me from its stony grave. My heart began to beat faster. The implication of this find was immeasurable in scientific circles. I could already see the seven foot long skull would alter several assumptions that had been made from previously discovered examples, that had been less than complete. My mind raced, and my already water depleted body broke into a clammy sweat.

I took another orienting shot in my mind so I wouldn’t lose the site in the vast sameness of the landscape, and started toward my camp at as fast a trot as the heat would allow. Topping the rise that had once been the shoreline of the ancient sea, I stopped dead in my tracks. My camp lay below me a few hundred feet, and tied to a tent stake, was a camel I didn’t recognize. Cautious, I slowly made my way down to the tent. I cursed myself silently, for leaving my pistol in my sleeping bag that morning. I usually carried it for snakes, but having never seen one on the searing sands of the seabed, I’d decided to save the four pounds it added to my supply of water and other equipment.

As I approached the tent, I cleared my throat, and instantly a young man emerged from the tent looking embarrassed. He was a dark skinned handsomely Semitic looking fellow in a flowing black jabbala. His head wrapped tightly in a scarlet burnoose. Tucked into his scarlet sash was the traditional Rhino horn dagger. From these things I knew the man was of high status in one of the desert tribes. Which, I didn’t know.

He greeted me in Arabic dialect, and when he realized I hadn’t understood, he corrected himself and spoke to me in a perfect Oxford accented English.

“A thousand pardons sir. I was using your ample tent to rest while I awaited your return. I am Hasem, the eldest son of Sheik Omar who watches over this sector of the desert. He has sent me to see if he can be of any service to you in your search.” I was flattered that the Sheik had taken notice of me. The official Moroccan government had given me the necessary permission to make my survey, and it hadn’t occurred to me that any additional permission might be necessary. I apologized to the Sheik’s son, and told him I was but an ignorant American scientist looking for ancient bones in the seabed. He smiled.

“You don’t have to speak to me like that. I have a degree in Philosophy from Oxford.” He chuckled, and added: “I probably speak the language better than you.”

“No doubt,” I laughed.

“Shall I make some coffee?” He went to his camel, and began to remove some things from his saddle bags.

“Sounds good. By the way, my name is Daniel,” I bent to light the camp stove for him. I then opened my box of provisions, and took out my jar of peanut butter, and some graham crackers. My intended lunch. I was willing to share it with Hasem if he cared for it.

“Yes,” Hasem said, gathering the items he’d selected from his saddlebags, and striding toward me. “We had word of your coming from the government. My father expected you to pay a social visit, but when you didn’t come in the expected time, he decided you may have forgotten your manners.” He laughed again. His sparkling white teeth gleamed in his dark face. He set about pouring water into the pot to boil, using his own goat skin as his source. In the desert it was not done to use another person’s water unless it was offered. I’d made another gaff by not offering mine.

“How long are you staying in our lands?” He began to ladle coffee powder and sugar into the simmering pot.

“Not much longer. I only had a month permit, and I’ve been here three weeks already.” I sat down on my little camp stool, and began spreading peanut butter on a cracker. I offered it to him, and he took it gently, his hand brushing mine slightly as he did. He took a bite, and made an ever so slight face of disgust. He strode back to his camel, and rummaged in the saddlebags again, returning shortly with a small container with a screw top lid. He sat down in the sand cross legged, and unscrewed the lid. He offered me the jar. It contained a dry red powder.

“Try this on the peanut butter. It will improve the flavor immensely.” I took a pinch and sprinkled it on the cracker and peanut butter. The first bite, nearly sent my head into the stratosphere. What ever the powder was, it had a mighty spicy kick, but he was right, the peanut butter tasted better with it, and the kick was tolerable after the initial surprise.

“That’s great, what is it?” I was busy spreading more peanut butter on crackers.

“A mixture we use in the desert. It makes us sweat, and helps cool our bodies. Some say it is aphrodisiacal in nature. It is made from the wings of a certain beetle.” He grinned as he poured the now settled coffee. He poured a cup of the thick black liquid, and then sprinkled a generous helping of the powder on the cracker I offered him. He set the little container on the sand between us, and I sprinkled a like amount on my cracker, and took a bite. He handed me the small cup of coffee he’d made, and I took a sip of the thick sweet liquid. The combination was wonderful.

“Do you like it?” He smiled hopefully at me.

“Wonderful,” I said, taking another sip. We sat in silence eating and sipping our coffee for a while. When we finished, he used sand to clean his cups and coffee pot, and then replaced everything in his saddlebags, and then returned to sit opposite me on the sand.

“Have you found what you are looking for?” His eyes were bright, glistening in his dark face. I felt myself flush for some unknown reason. He smiled again, observing me break into the predicted sweat.

“I have. I’ll show you if you like. It isn’t far.”

“Perhaps later. Now we should let the magic of the powder do its work.” I had a fleeting thought that he’d drugged me. What ever it was, the feelings I was beginning to experience were pleasant, if not hallucinogenic. They seemed to be centering on my groin, making an uncomfortable bulge that I was having trouble hiding.

“What was the powder?” I wiped the thin sweat off my brow with my shirtsleeve, and tried to adjust myself without him noticing. He grinned again.

“It is an ancient formula my family has possessed for centuries. It is harmless, but not ineffective. How are you feeling?”

“A little sweaty.”

“Nothing else?” His grin widened.

“like what?”

“Like here,” he said, grabbing himself with his left hand. What he outlined under his Jabbala, was a massive hard-on. I nearly swooned. I realized I thought him sexy.

“Yes,” I stammered, “I do feel something there.” I stood up, and adjusted my growing member through my jeans.

“You can free it if you want. I like to see the equipment of real men.” He stood up in one fluid motion, his Jaballa swirling around him. He began untying his sash, and when done, carefully laid the dagger and scarlet cloth on the sand. He lifted the skirt of the garment like a woman lifting her dress to remove it over his head. He was wearing nothing under it. His dark ebony body was glistening with the sheen of sweat the powder had induced. His long thick cock was rigid with blood, but so heavy it hung at a downward angle from his body. His ball sack was smaller than I expected given the size of his dick, but they were passable, hanging heavy in his bag.

“Now you, if you don’t mind.” I stood up from my camp stool, and removed my hat first. My hair was plastered to my head with sweat, and I realized I must stink of the stuff from several days without the benefit of a bath.

“I smell.” I said simply, admitting my shortcomings.

“All the better. The smell of a man working at what he loves.” Hasem was fondling his cock with an ebony fist, and I could gage that he was carrying at least ten inches of hot flesh between his legs.

I pulled my shirt out of my pants, and began to unbutton it. I had a red handkerchief tight around my neck, which I couldn’t undo easily. It was soaked with sweat as well. I removed my shirt, and he stepped closer to me, and ran a hand over my glistening chest. He stooped and licked a long path across my two nipples with his impossibly long very pink tongue. I shivered. His hands began to work at releasing my belt. When he had succeeded, he pushed my Levis down exposing my boxer shorts, dark with sweat. He buried his face in the cleft of my thigh where it met my crotch, and inhaled deeply. I could feel him begin to suck the sweat from the cloth and the cleft with his tongue. After a moment, he switched sides, and repeated the process. I was never more sexually stimulated as at that moment. I wanted this man’s body and I wanted it now.

I’d had some adolescent experiences with friends, jacking off together, and once had had a blowjob through a glory hole in a men’s toilet in a rest stop on the Pennsylvania turnpike, but nothing serious had ever happened like this. I rubbed his glistening back and felt the sweat glide under my palm. He moaned in my crotch, and began to work my boxers down my legs. He continued his sniffing and licking as my flesh was exposed. I was now rock hard, and my full seven inches were beginning to drip precum.

I pulled him to his feet, and out of breath, motioned for him to come into my tent out of the sun. He followed, and we stood in the cooler greenish glow of the interior while he licked my body in every place he could reach with his long tongue. Finally, he turned me around, and fell to his knees behind me. He used a large hand on my back to gently push me into an “L” shape so he could get at my asshole. His strong hands spread my cheeks, and his tongue lapped the rills of sweat trapped there, passing repeatedly over my winking sphincter. I sighed and shivered again and again. This was something I’d often dreamed of, but never expected to experience. My fiancé, back in Philadelphia had trouble even touching my hard cock, and would never consent to such a “dirty” act as rimming my hole for me. Our sex was usually perfunctory, and until now, it had been satisfactory to me, but I knew I had crossed some invisible line, and from now on heterosex was not going to be enough to keep me satisfied.

Hasem’s incredible tongue was now probing as deep as he could force it into my hole. I did my best to relax the muscles to let him probe deeper, and finally, I laid my upper torso across my arms on my sleeping bag while he did his thing in my ass. He reamed me for twenty minutes or so, moaning with pleasure. Finally, he surfaced for air, and I turned over on my back to look at him. His face was smeared with spit, and a bit of something clung to his pink lower lip. He licked it away with his tongue as he reached for my rampant cock.

His head lowered onto me, and he swallowed me down his throat in one long movement. I groaned, and bucked into him, flooded with sensations I’d never hoped to experience. He began to swallow with his throat muscles tight around the head and three inches of my cock. I nearly shot off with the pleasure of it. After a minute of this, he began to hum in a high singsong and the vibrations in his throat were sensational. It only took a moment for me to lose it and without control, I began to fill his throat with my cum. I humped his face hard as I shot gush after gush of hot spunk into him. He moaned in ecstasy around my shaft. I pumped and pumped what felt like a never ending flood of my essence into his hungry mouth. When he had taken all I had to offer, he finally raised up off my shrinking dick, and sat back on his haunches, his gleaming cock pointed directly at my face.

“That was wonderful. How did you like it,” He asked. I caught my breath, and collapsed on my sleeping bag.

“Incredible Hasem. Where did you learn all that?”

“While I was at Oxford. Here it is forbidden. There, in England I had my choice of many men. They are more open to the ways of my kind.”

“Well, it was wonderful. If you are gay, why do you stay on in Morocco?”

“I have no choice. As I told you, I am the first son of Sheik Omar. I will eventually assume his place when he retires or dies. When I am Sheik, I will be able to choose my lovers, but until then, I must be married and produce sons one of which will follow me when it is my turn to die.”

“And you have sons?”

“I do. Three so far. My family is pleased. It is only I who feels a longing in my loins. I am so glad you were open to my advances.”

“Well, it was fun, but I think you drugged me with that powder, knowing I’d not be able to resist.” He laughed.

“I’m sorry, but you did enjoy it didn’t you?”

“So much you’ll never probably know. I think you’ve ruined my life.” He laughed again. I reached for my pants, but he stayed my hand.

“We are not finished my friend. You must still do for me what I most want from you.” I looked at his still rampant cock, and shook my head.

“It’s too big. I can never get that into my mouth. Besides, I am not gay. “

“It is not your mouth that I wish to use.”

“Oh no! It is too large. It will tear me in two.”

“Nonsense! I have prepared the way with my tongue. It is ready to accept me completely.” He lifted my legs and placed them on his shoulders. I broke into another sweat, and began to tense up. I felt the head of his ramrod touch my hole, it slipped on the wetness he’d left there, and before I realized what had happened, he was pushing into my relaxed sphincter. I felt a fullness as he slid his monster cock into me, but little else at first. When he reached the bottom of his long slow thrust to my core. He sighed.

“I have dreamed of this for four years, since I left Oxford and returned to Morocco.” He humped out and then back into my hole. The feelings in my ass exploded with pleasure. I groaned. He began to move in ever increasing strokes, until he was fucking me as hard as I could have imagined being fucked—not that I’d ever imagined myself in this position—I was loving it.

As Hasem began to get close, his smooth movements in my butt, became more insistent, and less smooth. His breath came in gasps, and his large black hands played across my chest and stomach, stopping occasionally to tweak my nibs. He began pounding into me until I thought I’d faint with pleasure. Suddenly he stopped his thrusting, and with a gasp and a ragged sob, plunged into me to the hilt, and I felt his monster tool throbbing in my guts as he came, again and again. Finally, he collapsed across my torso, and I realized I had cum again as well, and my sticky mess had glued us together.

We remained like that for some minutes, while he made little mewling sounds in my ears, licking first one and then the other. I felt the urge to lick and kiss his neck, but when I did, he shivered and his long soft cock slipped from my body. We both sighed at the loss of our connection. If this is what gay love was like, then perhaps I’d been laboring under the wrong impression. My image had been one of hetero disgust, but all that had fled under his onslaught. I knew I had to have more of what he had between his legs, and I wouldn’t need to be drugged to get it again.

Hasem made another pot of coffee, and we talked into the night, and drank his strong brew. When the moon rose, he stood, and leaned over me and gently kissed me on the lips. He turned and strode to his camel that had been patiently waiting near the tent, and tapped the beast on the knee with his riding stick. The camel knelt in the sand, and in a single graceful bound, Hasem was sitting astride the animal.

“I will see you again in two days,” he said, turning the camel to the north. “Be ready for me when I come. We shall have a good time then.” Before I knew what had happened, he was galloping away into the night.

The night was long, because I was too wired on the sex, Hasem’s beauty, and his strong coffee, to sleep. I planned out how I would stake my bone find out and photograph it in situ. I was not equipped for a dig of this size, but with good photos, I was certain I could raise the necessary funds to do the job right. In any case, I knew I would be back in the desert as soon as I made a few calls to people willing to put up enough money to have their name attached to the find.

As dawn broke, I pumped up the camp stove and made a pot of coffee like I’d seen Hasem do, and as I drank it, I realized he hadn’t been far from my thoughts all night. I also realized I hadn’t had a single thought about my fiancé. I wondered briefly if it was a case of out of sight, out of mind, but decided that Hasem already meant more to me than Sheila back in Philadelphia. I was going to have to break up with her when I saw her again. She’d be hurt, but I suspected that it might also be a relief. I knew now that we were not meant for each other.

I spent the day photographing the visible bones of the Plesiosaur, and making copious notes about how to best wrest it from its stony grave. That night, tired, bordering on exhaustion, I slept like a baby, dreaming of wild sex with a tall black man. When I tried to picture my lover’s face, it wouldn’t come to me, but several times in the night, I awoke with the feeling I had just experienced a fantastic climax. Each time I did, my stomach was covered with a gooey discharge.

The next day, with all my work on the Plesiosaur finished for the moment, I sat around camp, drinking coffee and trying to compose my thoughts about what I was going to tell Sheila. About three in the afternoon, I heard a trilling sound to the north, and ran to the top of the dune. In the distance, I could see a tiny black and scarlet figure sitting atop a camel. I waved, and he raised both arms above his head, and prodded the camel in my direction. I started to run toward him, my feet sinking ankle deep in the hot sand, my body breaking into a sweat.

End​

 

[upyrkilt469]

Re: Bone Hunter

Gary yoou have done it again. That story was great. Looking forward to tomorrow. Thanks.
H&K
Vic

 

[BiMike]

Re: Bone Hunter

Great story, loved it, certainly gave me a bone !!! Thanks

 

[LaloGS]

Bone Hunter Part 2

Bone Hunter Part 2
by
LaloGS​

Philadelphia was blanketed in blackened snow as the dregs of January edged into the coldest month of February. Both rivers, the Delaware, and Schuylkill, were partially iced over. A rare but occasional phenomenon that indicated a colder than usual winter. Slush ice on the streets had turned gray with the prevalent pollution the city is plagued with. The taxi from the International Airport, dropped me at Sheila’s condo complex just south of Rittenhouse Square. She wasn’t expecting me for another three days, but since I’d done all I could in Morocco, I saw no reason to delay the inevitable.

I was traveling light, leaving most of my equipment in Hasem’s care. since with any luck, once I had announced my find I’d be rolling in donations to complete the dig. I didn’t expect a problem finding the money I’d need for the excavation of my magnificent Plesiosaur. Besides, what I had left behind in the Moroccan desert, was of little use to me in this cold and depressingly gray city of brotherly love. I only had a small carry-on bag, and my laptop, in which the photos of the Plesiosaur were stored.

The doorman welcomed me home, not realizing that I wasn’t expected. He didn’t bother to call up to announce me. The elevator ride was too slow to my liking, and I breathed a sigh of relief when the door finally cranked open on the eleventh floor. Each floor of the building held two apartments. Sheila’s, was on the North side of the building, and therefore was almost totally in perpetual gloom from lack of direct sun. I’d already told her it would be on the market as soon as we married, because I had no intention of living in the dark the rest of my life. I supposed that she’d be glad that it would still be hers after I put an end to our relationship.

I shouldered my bag, and computer, and trudged across the thick carpeted hallway to her door dreading every step. I stood there for a moment playing my script over in my head trying to remember it all. When I felt I could get it right, I rapped on her door. I stood there for a moment waiting, and listening. Since her entrance foyer was carpeted, I didn’t expect to hear her come to the door. What I did hear, was a muffled gasp, from the apartment. Instead of the door being yanked open in welcome, which is what I expected, she groaned something about god and asked me to wait a minute because she wasn’t dressed. I waited.

After a minute, I rapped again. Another minute passed before she returned to the door, and opened it. She had thrown on her house robe, and was still tying the belt around her waist. I started to step into the foyer, but she held up a hand to stop me. My mental picture did a double take. This was contrary to how I expected her to greet me after a month’s absence. “What’s going on Sheila?” She hesitated, keeping me in the hall.

“I’ve got company right now. Could you come back in an hour?” She looked scared.

“What?” I tried to push past her. “Sheila, come on! I’ve just flown half way around the world. Is your company that important?”

“Please Dan! Give me an hour.” Her fear had increased, and she blanched and reddened when she realized that it had dawned on me that she was telling me she had a guest, and hadn’t been dressed.

“Fuck Sheila. I had something important to tell you, but I can read the signs here. It seems my message for you is no longer relevant.” I turned away toward the elevator.

“Dan?” She stepped out into the hall behind me.

“Forget it Sheila. I’m going back to Africa as soon as possible. Something’s come up there that I need to deal with.”

“Danny!” The elevator was cranking up the shaft to my call, but I ignored her shout.

“I’ll drop you a post card.” The elevator opened, and I stepped onto the car. She dashed to the door and blocked its closing.

“What are you saying Danny?”

“Look. . . It isn’t important anymore. It’s obvious by your actions here that what we had planned is now in the past. Don’t count on being married to me now or ever.” I pushed her out of the door and it slid shut. Her scream of anguish was the last thing I heard as I descended.

My hunch about funding had been on the money. By the end of the week, I had an expedition account with more than enough to complete my dig and ship the bones to the Lab at the U. of P. for extricating the fossil from its stony matrix. In the four days all this took, I had received several urgent messages at the University from Sheila. I ignored them all until I was ready to fly out on Saturday morning. I called her and asked her to meet me at the international air terminal a few minutes before my scheduled boarding time. I put all my news in a letter that I printed out at the University before I left for the airport. I was still traveling light, with my single bag and computer.

The boarding call had already been announced, when I glanced back and saw her running toward me. I lifted the letter in the sealed envelope, and when she got to me I handed it to her, and told her it explained everything. My row on the plane was called, and I entered the jet-way to board. At the last turn I looked back, but all I could see was her hair, as she walked away shaking her head.

The helicopter from Marrakech, to my Plesiosaur took us over Sheik Omar's camp. I looked down, as we passed over, and saw a tiny black and scarlet figure rush out of one of the large tents, and raise both his arms in greeting as we passed over. I had arranged for Hasem to set up my camp next to the ancient stone island my Plesiosaur lay in to eliminate the commute every morning. He had also contracted half a dozen men to help with the heavy work of cradling the massive stone pieces in plaster to get them ready for final removal. I knew none of the men would have ever worked with ancient bones, but with my instruction and Hasem’s presence, I expected they would be fine with the delicate work. In any case, the size and massive weight of the skeleton and skull precluded being able to ship it out in one piece. We’d have to break it in to several of more manageable size to copter out of the desert to the airport in Marrakech.

The camp was deserted when the copter set me down a few hundred yards away to prevent the tent being blown away in the backwash of the beating rotors. I ducked out of the vibrating machine and turned to begin receiving the sixty 25 gallon cans of water I’d calculated my team would need before the copter arrived in two weeks to replenish for me. The large translucent plastic bottles were heavy, and I was feeling the effort by the time I stacked the last one on the pyramid I’d constructed with them. Beside them, I also stacked the hundred pound bags of plaster of paris and the canvas strips to reinforce the bones with for removal. As the copter lifted off, I covered the bottles with a large canvas tarp, and weighted the edges with stones to protect the plastic from the rays of the intense desert sun. I was tired, but picked up my bag, and laptop, and made my way to my tent. It felt cool and comfortable when I got there, and after I shook a scorpion out of the sleeping bag on my cot, and checked for others, I lay down on it and soon fell into a welcome sleep. I hadn’t slept a wink since leaving the cold streets of Philadelphia.

****

I batted at the fly that kept landing on my nose and trying to crawl into my nostril. It persisted, and I batted again. My tired eyelids cracked open and I started, setting up in one swift movement. The dark form of a man silhouetted against the opening of the tent sent a thrill through my body. Hasem dropped the grass stem he’d been tickling my nose with, and we embraced like lost lovers.

“I missed you Daniel.” His voice was soft as he hugged me close and kissed my ear.

“Me too Hasem. I couldn’t wait to get back here.”

“To me, or to your old bones?”

“My old bones silly, but. . . you too.” He grinned, his sparkling white teeth gleaming in his dark face. We broke apart, and he set about making some of his thick sweet coffee. I spent the time examining the camp, and finally it dawned on me there were no tents for the workers I knew he’d hired.

“Hasem?” He stood in a graceful movement and faced me, his smile still beaming from his features. “Where are the men to sleep?”

“Ah. . . yes. . . the bones are calling you already.” He turned back to the pump stove, and poured the boiling water over the grounds and sugar. “I had them set up their camp beyond the dunes. It will be more private for you that way. More private for us. Their tongues wag like old women in the oasis, and it would not do for them to see what you and I do here. I. . .” he hesitated a moment. “It is I who can not allow them the opportunity to tell what we do here. My father, would be forced to act, and it would not be to my benefit nor yours for them to see.” He stirred the strong brew, and began pouring it into the tiny cups he had provided the camp with. He brought mine to me where I stood, and put it into my hand, taking the opportunity to run his big hand up my arm and then to my cheek.

“There are things we must talk of Daniel. Things that I must tell you. . .” I started to speak, but he placed his fingers over my lips to silence me. “My father is old.” He suddenly looked sad. “He is ill. While you were in America, he suffered a seizure of some sort. Possibly a stroke. I have pleaded with him to let us fly him to Marrakech to doctors, but he has refused. He is too weak to make the trip by camel. From our conversations, it is clear to me he is preparing to step down and let me assume his role with the people. The reality is that should he have even a slight suspicion of what you and I do here, he would have to declare me unclean, and therefore unfit to take his place. I have no brothers, and should that happen, the leadership of the people would pass to another family. It is the way.” I started to speak again, but he motioned me to silence.

“There will be spies in the midst of these men I have brought to you. They are unavoidable. Actually, they will work on our behalf rather than against us if we are aware of their intentions. My people are not always as educated as I, and they have many suspicions of foreigners. Some are even suspicious of me, because of my time in England has made me different to what they are accustomed. To many, I am as much a foreigner as you. There is opposition to my father’s only choice among the people. I am struggling to protect my position yet I must appear not to be. Do you understand?” He finally was asking me to speak. His words has set off a jumble of thoughts, and I struggled to order them so they made sense. When I finally did speak, I had a burning question to ask.

“Hasem, I’m sorry to hear about your father, but I have this question. Are you needed here in the desert? I have envisioned that we might be together somewhere else. Somewhere more tolerant of . . .” I stopped speaking because he was slowly shaking his beautiful head.

“My family has produced the Sheiks of my people for over a thousand years. This desert is my home, and although I have grown by my education and experiences in the wider world, it is my place to remain with my people. Perhaps my education and experiences will help if they can learn to trust me as they have trusted my father, and his father and so on back to the beginning of our dynasty. I understand it will be difficult for you. You are a westerner, but I want. . .no that is not correct. I need you to be here with me. When the time comes, I will be made almost all powerful under Allah. My choices will be respected, and the intolerance you speak of will not be an issue.” I nodded, understanding at last what he was asking of me. My mind raced.

“I could continue my career?”

“Of course. You will become an important hunter of the bones the desert conceals. There are many places you have not looked yet. If you are here with me permanently, you will be shown where the best lie. My people know this land as they know the wrinkles in their own faces. The bones you have discovered here are just a beginning.” I sipped my coffee, and thought about what he was saying.

The Moroccan desert had seen many expeditions searching for fossils, but the important finds that were expected had been few and far between. Mostly, the government limited the time allowed to foreign expeditions to a month. Little enough time for many of them to acclimatize to the searing heat and lack of water, much less devote the time required to actually produce results. If I stayed with Hasem and the people, I would become the sole paleontologist working in the desert over extended periods of time. His offer of guides that knew where the best bones were to be found was unheard of. He may not have realized it, but he was offering me a dream.

“I wanted to tell you earlier Hasem, that I no longer have reason to be in Philadelphia. The woman there is nothing to me now. Since I left you two weeks ago, only one thing has been on my mind, and every moment I have been away, I have puzzled about how I can have what I want in my life. You have just made it possible.”

“And what is it you want Daniel?” He stared at me with beautiful eyes.

“I want you Hasem. If it is possible, I think I have fallen in love.” He grinned.

“It is the desert Daniel. It gets into the blood.”

“You’re sure it isn’t your red powder?” He laughed out loud.

“I must admit, there is nothing in the powder other than ground peppers which you can buy in any market here. It was the story of the powers it held that brought us together the first time.” He stepped closer to me and put a hand on my chest. “What happened between us, came only from here.” He patted the area above my heart and grinned. I was uncertain he was telling me the truth. My straight mind didn’t want to accept that I’d been attracted to this man so easily.

“I feel stupid all of a sudden.” I looked into his eyes.

“There is nothing to feel that way about. So you thought yourself a straight man with a woman and all, but a little spice sprinkled on your disgusting crackers with peanut butter, made you gay in an instant? I think not. There is more to the story, and we will have the rest of our lives to read it. Shall I get my magic powder? I have abstained from my wives since you left, and I would love to do things to you with this.” He took my hand, and placed it over his groin. I smiled.

“I thought you would never ask.” I finished my coffee, and set the small cup down in the sand next to the still full cup he’d poured for himself. I led him into the tent, and we embraced, hugging and kissing each other with passion.

He was amazingly virile, and his huge cock, had a wonderful effect on my libido. I couldn’t keep my hands off his body, and soon enough we were naked, kissing and sucking and licking, My tongue left slick wet trails all over his body, and I found myself doing things to him I’d only done in my dreams. As we made love, I began to let my mind encompass my thoughts and began to understand that they had been there for a long time. My reaction to him the first time was one that had been suppressed by my need to feel like a normal heterosexual man. Fleeting thoughts flashed that proved he had been correct. I was suppressing my gay needs and hiding from my true sexuality. How he knew this I had no idea.

Hasem placed me on my cot, and finally took my hardness in his mouth and sucked me until I came in gushes in his throat. The pleasure I felt from his humming vibrations was a kind of ecstasy I couldn’t get enough of. He turned me over with his gentle hands, and spread my butt and set to work with his magic tongue. I was soon groaning and squirming with new and higher pleasures. When he finally entered me, his giant shaft felt as comfortable in me as anything I’d ever experienced before. Certainly more to my liking than the sex I’d experienced with Sheila, and the few girls and women I’d had sex with before her. This was what I needed. . .no, that was incorrect. This was what I wanted.

I was blinded by the love I was feeling for this man. This was all happening so fast, but I also knew that he had helped me to find something true and loving in myself that I had been too stupid or too afraid to allow into the light of day. I reveled in his big shaft plunging into me and then sucking back out creating a vacuum in my gut that sent my sexual senses reeling with shivering delight. I was sucking air and sweating like I had never done before with heights of pleasure I’d never thought possible. Pussy had no comparison to the pleasures of having Hasem's big cock fucking me as deep as we both could manage.

As he rose to the edge, he began to kiss me passionately, and I him, feeling the pressures in his balls rise, stroking his nuts with my fingers softly with a hand forced between us. I held his long shaft as he pulled it from my gut, slick with liquid his balls had generated. Feeling him push it back into my body sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. I was moaning and groaning with every thrust his strong masculine body managed. When he reached the point of no return, he whispered in breathy gasps that he loved my tightness, and kissed my closed eyes as he began to erupt inside me. I felt his great length pulsing and throbbing, and I began to cum again along with his outpouring of passion.

Afterward, we lay together chest to chest, his big cock pinning us together, my silken cum smearing our torsos like glue, and just held each other until he became too soft to remain. When he came out, it was followed by a gush of his cum. I pushed him off me, and squatted in the sand, eliminating the creamy liquid. His cock, though soft, remained long and thick. I felt the need to clean it for him, and he stood while I took him into my mouth and tasted his and my essences combined on his most wonderful tool. He moaned a little, but was totally spent, remaining soft in my mouth.

Once dressed again, he took me to meet the men. Their camp was about a mile to the east of mine. Close enough to get to the site quickly, yet far enough to maintain privacy for us. He told me as we walked to meet them that he had told them I was not to be disturbed in my camp. He said they understood my need for privacy, and would not bother us when we were together.

The men were happy to be working, the little money I paid the was more than they would normally earn, and so they would do as I asked or as Hasem instructed. The language barrier was large, but Hasem promised to be there as often as he could manage. He translated my words about the excavation, and the men nodded in unison anxious to get started.

As he rode away that night, he left me feeling empty and alone. I lay on my cot thinking about the life changing decisions I had made in the past few days. I wondered what my own father would say if he were told about my loving the feel of a large black cock fucking me. The broad mouth of a handsome Semitic man kissing me and best of all, the soft wet tongue licking and probing every nook and cranny of my body. He’d probably have a stroke like Hasem's father. My old man was adamant about queers, as he called them. I’d have to find a way to break the news to him. Thank god, my mother had passed away and couldn’t care what her son was doing here in the Moroccan desert.

I drifted to sleep on my cot, with the odor of our love making still clinging to my sleeping bag. I dreamed of Hasem and I riding camels across the desert naked to a remote oasis where we swam in the cool clear waters, and made love in the sand, eating large ripe and luscious dates that fell from the palms pelting us as we struggled together in our lovemaking.

When the alarm went off, the eastern horizon was a barely visible band of golden light. The air was cool and pristine. I stepped out of the tent, still nude, and stretched, my feet buried to the ankles in the cold sand. I looked up at the still brilliant stars in the velvet black of the sky, and smiled. I realized that this would be mine for as long as I wanted it. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment. Time might change that, but for the moment, I was king of all I surveyed.

End​

 

[upyrkilt469]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 2

Gary this story is even better than the last. Waiting for tormorrow's chapter anxiously. Thanks again.
H&K
Vic

 

[harry113]

Re: Bone Hunter

Wonderful story Gary
Thank you
Looking forward to the next chapter
Hugs
Harry

 

[harry113]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 2

Gary, this is a great story, Thank you
Can't wait for more !!
Hugs
Harry

 

[wyndhampaul]

Re: Bone Hunter

A tale of how to take a Bone-Apart? The author is a true Napoleon of erotic literature.

 

[LaloGS]

Bone Hunter Part 3

Bone Hunter Part 3
by
LaloGS​

Work on my Plesiosaur began in earnest at first light that morning. The crew of men Hasem had hired proved more than adequate to the task, and by the end of the second week, using the tools I’d brought with me from Philadelphia, we had the exposed parts of the skull in plaster casts to protect it from possible damage during the undermining of the stone. The electric stone saw, powered by the portable generator a donor had kindly included in his substantial gift, had severed the skull into three more manageable parts, with insignificant loss of bone. I was happy things were moving smoothly. My estimate as to how long it would take the crew to remove the entire skeleton and prepare it for shipment, was right on target. Three months ought to see the job completed.

Hasem had been to see me on several occasions, but I was always busy during the days with the excavation, and he didn’t seem to be able to stay with me through the night. I was and horny. My hand was becoming my best friend on my lonely cot at night. He was worried about his father the Sheik, and had told me he needed and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. While I understood, I still missed his caresses and the feel of his big cock filling my body with his passion.

The last time he’d dropped in unexpectedly riding his camel up to the excavation site late in the afternoon, I’d walked across the salt pan of the ancient seabed, talking quietly about the progress the men were making. He managed to work our walk into a dry waddi that had once held a freshwater stream that had fed into the shallow sea, and there, he kisses me with all his own pent up passion. We came close to giving into our desires, but he finally reassumed control over his emotions, and apologized that he’d made me so hot for his cock. He couldn’t stay, since his father had taken a turn for the worse, and he had only stopped by the site, to tell me and his three uncles working in the crew, that his father’s time on earth was nearing an end.

He left as soon as we returned to the crew as they were winding up their day of hard labor. He spoke a few words in his spare Arabic, the beautiful lilt of the language falling like a ton of lead on the ears of my crew. They set up a ululation in mourning for their Sheik, and instead of returning to their camp, marched off following Hasem's camel’s track. In no time at all, I found myself alone in the profound silence of the gathering dusk. I trudged sadly back to my tent, and fed myself on a tin of sardines, and a handful of crackers. I spent the remaining hour of light, updating my field notes, and down loading the digital photos I’d filled my camera card with. I was immersed in this work, when I heard a scratching at my tent flap. Thinking myself alone, I was startled. My hand dropped directly to the pistol I had taken to wearing on my hip since the excavation had begun. The camp was filled with expensive equipment that any Arab would covet.

“Who is it?” I blurted it out in English, before I realized the person scratching on the flap was probably not fluent in the language. I repeated the demand in my halting Arabic, and there was a small throaty sound in response. I stood, and threw the tent flap back to see a young Arab man, hardly more than twenty, standing in the sand with his hands cupped together as if he was offering me something. I stumbled through asking him what he wanted. With his hand, he scratched at his throat, and I thought he was miming that he was hungry.

I rummaged in my pantry trunk, and pulled out a can of Vienna sausages. I popped the lid on the small can, and handed it to him along with a fork. He took both, but instead if diving into the food, he examined the fork closely, turning it this way and that, as if he’d never seen such an instrument before. He didn’t seem to know what it was used for. I took the fork and the can of sausages from him, and speared a juicy wiener on the tines, and handed the fork back to him. He smiled at first, taking the fork again and repeating his careful examination. Finally he smelled the sausage, and after a puzzled moment, touched the meat with the tip of his tongue. Instantly, a look of horror crossed his face, and he dropped the fork and sausage into the sand at his feet.

They weren’t the best in the way of food, but they weren’t that bad either. I took the fork and pulled the sandy wiener off the tines, and buried it in the sand. I wiped the remaining sand off the fork, and speared a second wiener. I held it out to him again, and he made a disgusted face, and took a step backward. I shrugged, and bit into the sausage. He nearly gagged, and ducked back outside the tent. I put the rest of the sausage into my mouth, and followed him out into the early evening. He was standing a few feet away, next to a large bundle of what appeared in the gathering darkness, a mass of dirty rags. I think it was at that moment, I realized he hadn’t spoken a word to me.

I tried my Arabic again, and got the same scratching motion on his throat with his fingers. It dawned on me that I’d seen the work crew signaling to each other in this way. It always precipitated a water break. I popped a whole sausage in my mouth, and ducked back into the tent. I set the can and fork on my desk, and grabbed up my canteen. I handed it to the boy when I stepped out again, and got the same sort of reaction the fork had gotten. He turned it this way and that, shaking it listening to the liquid inside. He made the same motion again, and I took the canteen from him and unscrewed the top. I took a swallow, and handed him the canteen. He had watched my demonstration closely, and promptly tipped the canteen up and emptied most of its contents all over his face. I realized the boy had never seen such a thing as a canteen. He had no idea how to get the water out without pouring it over himself.

I grabbed up a coffee cup sitting next to the pump stove, and poured him a drink. He sucked it down like he hadn’t had any in days, and offered the empty cup back making the drinking signal again. I poured a second then a third cup. He slowed down by the time he’d guzzled the fifth cup, and began to nurse the sixth. He sat down on his bundle of rags, and I sat in my camp chair opposite him. I asked him what his name was, and he touched his lips with an almost feminine gesture, and shook his head. I took this to mean he was mute.

I asked if he could write, but he didn’t seem to understand. I got my English/Arabic dictionary and checked. My question had been correct, but apparently he had no understanding of the idea of writing. I pointed to myself and said my name. He watched me while I talked to him, his lucid watery eyes following my every move and gesture. Finally, he stood again, and took the few steps that separated us, and dropped to his knees before me, taking my hands and holding them to his forehead. Embarrassed, I pulled my hands away, but he grabbed at them again, and looked at me pleadingly making the little huu huu sound in his throat I’d heard him make before.

I was at a loss as to what all this might mean, and longed for Hasem’s advice on what was going on. He finally relaxed his grip, and rocked back on his heels, still looking at me intently. Finally he rubbed his stomach, and made the scratching motion on his throat again. I picked up the canteen, but he held up both his hands. I puzzled a bit before I realized he was saying he was hungry. I offered the remains of the Vienna Sausages, but he again made his look of disgust. I had another, and went into the tent and returned with some crackers and my jar of peanut butter. I spread some on a cracker, and handed it to him. He sniffed the strange food, and nibbled at it gently. This time, he smiled broadly, and I realized he had no tongue.

I fed him cracker after cracker, and after, several more cups of water. When he seemed satisfied, he stood and walked to his bundle of rags. He plopped down on them, and closed his eyes. I sat there for a few minutes until I realized he was snoring gently. I stood quietly, and slipped into my tent to my own bed. I half expected he would be gone by morning, leaving as silently as he had arrived.

When the alarm went off, I stepped out of the tent, nude, expecting to have my world to myself hardly thinking of the young Arab of the night before. I had a wicked piss hard, and headed around the back of the tent to my latrine hole. I stopped in my tracks, when I saw the young man sitting on his bundle of rags grinning at me in the early light. His eyes were riveted on my boner, and he licked his lips. It crossed my mind that he might be interested. Thoughts of Hasem crossed my mind, and I wondered how he’d take a third party in our sex play. The boy’s robes were filthy, and I imagined his body beneath them was in a similar condition. I couldn’t make up my mind what to do for a moment, but finally continued to my latrine, and stood there waiting for my hard-on to subside to piss. The cool morning air felt good on my naked skin, and I stood there for a long moment waiting, until I felt him step silently beside me. His delicate fingers traced a path across my back and down over the mound of my left flank. His other hand, brushed across my taught stomach muscles, and found their way to my hardness. His fluttering movements were stimulating my skin to goose bumps. I sighed, and shivered under his touch.

I felt him drop to his knees, and I closed my eyes tightly. He began kissing my hip, and dragging his lips over my sensitive skin. He reached my shaft, and nibbled up the length to the head. His warm mouth wasted not a second taking my hardness inside. His hollow mouth felt different and a little strange. Without a tongue, nothing but his suction and the pressure of his lips were present to stimulate my feelings. I gasped, and he began to suck. I reached for his head, and soon enough we had a strong give and take going. The boy was a master cocksucker. He had me going in less than a minute. When I came, I felt like I was pouring the gush of a wellspring down his throat. He swallowed and swallowed, sucking in air between each gush of cum. Once my nuts were drained, my pisshard began to collapse. The boy let my softening cock slip from his mouth, and took it in his soft feminine hand. He stood up next to me, hugging my naked body close, standing slightly behind me and to my left side. I began to feel the piss rising. He held my cock gently, pointing my stream into the hole I had dug for the purpose.

When my stream petered out, he leaned down and sucked my glans clean of urine, then stood and raised his ragged robes, and pissed into the hole. I could not see his cock because it was hidden by the filthy robe, and the way he was standing. But, from the sound and volume of his piss, he had something substantial between his legs.

I made coffee and we had bowls of instant oatmeal, which he seemed not to have ever tasted. He was cautious of the cereal as he had been of the Vienna Sausages the night before. I told him in my broken Arabic that we would go to the oasis today to bathe. He nodded his head, but looked worried. When we finished our breakfast, he took the dishes and wiped them out with sand. I watched him as he carefully replaced each clean dish back into the trunk where I kept them in exactly the same order I had taken them out. He was nothing if not observant.

The hike to the oasis took the better part of two hours, and as we entered the waddi where the spring was located, he seemed to perk up, as if he knew where he was. He took the lead, and strode several yards ahead of me, becoming confident and purposeful. As the treetops of the palms surrounding the pool of water came into view, he slowed down, and before we were exposed to any possible people that may have been at the water, he crouched and spent several minutes examining the area before he finally stood and motioned me to advance. I wondered why he didn’t want to just barge into the oasis like I’d seen other Arabs do after a long hike across the desert.

At the pool, I began to strip my clothes off. I told him to do the same, but he shook his head and stood watching me get naked. Once I had stripped, I stepped up to him, and told him in my halting way that I wanted to bathe him. Again he shook his head. I ignored him, and pulled his filthy burnoose off his head. His hair, long and womanish, was colored with henna. Besides being reddish over his coal black color, it was filthy as well. I began tugging at his sash to remove his ragged and filthy robes, and he resisted for a bit, but finally just stood there letting me strip him. As his back was exposed, I could see on his dirty but smooth skin that he’d been whipped brutally. He had dozens of scar weals across his back and buttocks. Long healed, they were none the less evidence of someone’s displeasure with him. I ran my hand over the scars, and he trembled as if they still hurt him.

Leading him into the water, he was halting, having to be coaxed like a young girl. His now naked genitals were much darker than the rest of his milk coffee colored skin, and were impressive as I’d imagined. His fear of the water kept him limp, even as I handled him to wash the area with clean sand from the bottom of the pool. He got the idea after a few moments of me scrubbing his skin, and began to do the same to me. We washed each other , scraping skin nearly raw with the sand. His skin began to glow rosy under my palms as did mine. When he reached for my genitals, to scrub them, he found my erection. He laughed, and tugged on me like a kid with a new toy.

I pushed his hand away, and waded out of the water to our pile of stuff. He watched me while I rummaged in my pack for the shampoo I’d brought along. He marveled at the profusion of suds the small amount of liquid soap made, and when I poured a little in his palm and told him to wash his hair with it, he brought it to his lips and tasted it as he’d done with his food. Before I could stop him, he’d sucked the sweet smelling soap into his mouth and was smacking his lips, causing foam to erupt from his mouth. I told him to clean his mouth with water, which he did. As he was bent over doing that, I pushed his head under water, and wetted his hair. When he came up gasping, I had the impression it was the first time he’d ever been immersed in water. I squeezed shampoo onto his head, and began to scrub. He began making his huu huu sound, but finally relaxed into the finger massage I was giving him trying to get down to the roots of his thick hair.

Clean at last, we waded to shore and lay down on the clean sand to let the sun dry us. We must have dozed off, because the next I knew, he was frantically grabbing his rags and running for the bushes. I sat up, blinking and looking around. I heard the tinkling of a bell, and realized there was a herd of goats coming up the waddi to the water. That meant other Arabs. I dressed quickly, and grabbing my pack, followed his foot path through the sand where I found him cowering in a thick stand of thorn bush.

“Why are you afraid?” His eyes pleaded with me to be quiet. His fingers brushing his lips and shaking his head.

I saw he was still naked, his ragged clothing clutched to his chest like a shield. I pulled a t-shirt and an old pair of worn jeans out of my pack I’d brought along for him, and after some coaxing, I got him to dress in them. I took his filthy rags, and dug a hole in the sand and buried them. He watched me doing this, and a look of apprehension spread over his features. I told him his clothes were too dirty to wear, and that if he wanted traditional clothing, I would buy him some at the next market day. He nodded his head, and smiled. We watched the two Arabs driving their goats to water, and when they became occupied with cooking a meal while their goats watered and grazed on the lush vegetation of the oasis, the boy and I slipped away back into the waddi, unseen.

That evening, we had a meal of sardines and crackers, and from his pile of rags, he produced a large red onion. We drank water cooled by evaporation, and watched the sun setting in the west. I told him he should remove everything he wanted to keep from his pile of stuff, and that I would burn the rest to kill the many creatures I imagined living in the filth. He set about pawing through the pile, and I retired to my tent to get a little work done on my field notes.

Busy tapping at my laptop, I glanced up at a small noise and discovered him watching me wide eyed hunkered down on his heels in the door flap of the tent. I crooked a finger to him and he smiled and in one fluid graceful motion, had risen and was standing beside me. I pulled up an MP3 tune on the computer, and started it playing. He stepped back, and his empty mouth hung open in awe. He looked over the laptop carefully, and finally just stood beside me listening with his eyes closed to the Bach concerto I had played. I decided he might like to see some of the video I had downloaded from the satellite link one of my generous donors was paying for. I selected a piece that involved two men fucking, and when it was playing, I nudged him to open his eyes again. They grew large as saucers, and he went back to examining the laptop. I realized the scene on the screen was having an effect on him when I glanced at his crotch and saw it had grown substantially in his pants. I reacted to his erection by getting hard myself. I leaned back in the camp chair on its rear legs, and showed him my hard-on. He grinned, but returned to the video. I leaned my head toward him, and rubbed my cheek against his erection. He placed one of his delicate hands on my face, and rotated his hips, slowly grinding his erection against my head.

I slipped out of the chair to my knees, and worked at the button front fly. Since I hadn’t given him any of my underwear, his hard cock came out with a slashing motion and fell across my face. I swallowed him whole, and he moaned as I sucked him hungrily. He placed his hands on my head, and soon enough we had a good rhythm going. I wanted to feel his big thickness in my hole, and after a few minutes, released his spit covered shaft and stood up to drop my pants. I turned my back to him, and spread my cheeks with my hands as I leaned over the table that held my laptop. He placed his hands on my hips, and I felt him press his large dark cockhead to my hole. I leaned back into his thrust, and he entered my hungry hole with ease.

He fucked me long and slow for several minutes. I was moaning with the pleasure of the fullness his large member was giving me, and I began to feel his nearly hairless balls with my hand between my legs. He reached for mine, and I groaned with the touch of his girlish fingers stroking my nuts as his big cock coursed in and out of my hole. In such a short time, I’d become a slut for big cocks in my ass. I couldn’t get enough.

It took him several minutes of hard fucking before he began to make his huu huu sound in my ear, and I felt his big dick pulse and begin thrumming his heavy load of cum into my bowels. I gasped at the feeling of his silky load turning my gut in to a foamy smoothness, and started jacking myself to get off. He pushed my hand away, and pulled his softening cock from my hole, and in an instant, had my cock down his throat. I was primed, and after a gasp of pleasure, began to unload in his throat. He sucked and swallowed several times, until I fell limp out of his mouth.

I needed a drink, and we pulled our pants up and stepped out of the tent. I was intent on the bottle of scotch I kept in the pantry chest, and didn’t notice anything until the boy gasped and fled back into the tent, making his huu huu sound. I looked around, and sitting on his pile of rags, was Hasem. His camel was tethered to a tent stake, slowly munching his cud. How they had arrived without being heard was a mystery.

“Hasem!” I gasped. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said, rising from the pile of rags. “Who is the boy?”

“I don’t know his name.” I briefly told him the story of how the young Arab had come to the tent the previous night.

“And already you are having sex?” He looked a little peeved at me. I explained about how he had blown me in the morning, and how horny I had been since he, Hasem, was not able to be with me because of his father’s illness.

“Ah. . .” he said, walking in a small circle in the dim light from the glowing tent. “Yes, I have grown horny as well.” He paced a few more turns, and came back to me.

“I came to tell you that my father has begun his journey to paradise. My people have accepted me as their sheik. I have also prepared a new tent for you in the village. I came to take you there to show you. But I find you having sex with a young boy. . .” He paused, and looked at the tent.

“Are you jealous?” I asked, trying to assess his mood.

“Let me ask you this,” he responded. “Do you love me?” I was taken aback by the question.

“Y. . .yes,” I stammered. “I. . .do love you. Since we met you have been my one thought as a companion.”

“And the boy?”

“Just sex. How could I love him so quickly?”

“You should get used to loving him,” he said. “He will be with you a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We used to call them slaves.”

“What?” I was horrified. “He’s not a slave.”

“Well, he has given himself to you, and therefore is essentially the same as a slave.”

“I won’t have him.”

“Tell me Daniel, did he kneel before you and place your hands to his forehead?” I nodded.

“Last night.”

“That was his way of telling you he was yours to do with as you pleased.”

“I’m disgusted.”

“Don’t be. It is the way of the people. My people. Has the boy been beaten?”

“Yes. badly from the looks of the scars on his back.”

“And he has no tongue; am I correct? I nodded.

“So. . .” he considered his words. “The boy was caught giving pleasure to a man or men by his people. He has suffered the pain of the beating, and having his tongue cut out and he has been cast out of his tribe. Dressed as he is in your clothing, I don’t recognize his people, but I’d guess one of the more primitive tribes from the deep desert. He sat back down on the pile of rags.

”There is no question, he has given himself to you. He will be with you until one or the other is dead.”

“No way.”

“Unfortunately it is true. It is the will of Allah. He is your slave. What is his name?”

“I don’t know. He can’t speak.”

“It is not important. He will accept what ever you choose to call him. What ever you choose to do to him. With him. His life is in your hands.”

“But Hasem. . .”

“I must return to the village. The people still mourn my father, and I will be expected. I will return in three days, and will have made the new tent large enough for two. Perhaps we will both enjoy his attentions in the future. He is good yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well trained by the man or men who caused his disgrace.” He tapped his camel’s knees with his riding stick, and the beast knelt in the sand. Hasem leaped into his saddle, and muttered “hut hut.” “In three days Daniel.” He wheeled the beast and quickly vanished into the night.

I found the boy cowering behind the cot. I pulled him out, and he embraced me, sobbing on my shoulder for a long time. I held him, and I suppose the tears I shed into his t-shirt, were sympathy. We laid down on the cot, still clothed, and must have drifted to sleep. The next I knew, my laptop alarm was beeping at me, and the cool air told me it was near dawn already. I had a wicked piss hard in my pants, and extricated myself from the entwining arms of the boy, sleeping peacefully, his face that of the boy instead of the tense young man I’d known the day before.

I walked out of the tent into the glow of dawn, and made my way to the latrine hole. As I pissed, he slipped up to me silent as a thief, and reached for my cock, guiding my stream into the hole. I sighed, and began to grow hard. What a life I had moved into.

End​

 

[upyrkilt469]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 3

You never cease to amaze me, Gary. That was great. Looking forward to tomorrow. Thanks again.
H&K
Vic

 

[harry113]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 3

Gary, Thank you. This is fantastic, a sheik for a lover & a willing servant as well !!!
I suspect the next chapter will be a long one !!
Hugs
Harry

 

[LaloGS]

Bone Hunter Part 4

Bone Hunter Part 4
by
LaloGS​

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 awry 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 thoughts 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 becoming a little labored. 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 sent a thrill of pleasure shivering through my body. Who ever had taught this boy about sex with men, had been a master.

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 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 hard-on 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, my chest heaving. I felt myself rising to the 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 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. 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. 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 erections, 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 heights 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 set 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. They supped their drinks 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 ride 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.

The End​

 

[harry113]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 4

Thank you Gary! What a fantastic story ... I'm glad that poor boy had some comfort in the end ... great stuff.
Hugs
Harry

 

[upyrkilt469]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 4

I agree with Haryy and am looking forward to tomorrow, Gary.
H&K
Vic

 

[robbieadam]

Re: Bone Hunter

wow - mint so far, I'm about to read part 2

 

[smile86]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 4

really great story, i find it fascinating that one person can write so many stories ad yet all of them sound very original! i particularly like this one.

 

[wyndhampaul]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 4

Gary, Gary! There just has to be more to this tale. It just can't end there. Perhaps he really is a Djinn. Oh! The potential for more is endless.

 

[LaloGS]

Re: Bone Hunter Part 4

Thank you all for posting, but a wise man once said always leave them wanting more.
Best to you all.

 

[sheep]

Great story. I just happened on it by accident. I hope it isn't over.

 

[GrayFox]

Your best story yet!