Lost Temple of Hun Gamin

By ten.llebcap@ffordc

Published on Dec 11, 1999

Gay

The Lost Temple of Hun-Gamin, chapter 2 Journal: Day Ten

I have been living with the Hun-Gamin tribe for several days now, and my days have been thoroughly occupied with learning their local customs. I have developed a basic working vocabulary in their language: simple everyday phrases such as "faster," "deeper,"" watch the teeth" and "please pinch my nipples harder." Yesterday I was kept quite busy learning one of their games, which involved suspending me from a tree in a mesh hammock woven of vines.

The shaman has meanwhile been offering me private instruction in various meditative techniques. Today, for example, in an exercise which he believes will cure my unfortunate premature ejaculation problem, he subjected me to a long session of prostate massage, with his tongue, which is most abnormally long and which has a small jade decoration piercing the tip of it, which allowed for a most satisfactory contact. During this therapy I was tied securely to a stone carved thousands of years ago, a statue of a man with an exceedingly large penis (not unlike my own, I record with a modest blush).

I slammed my notebook shut as Doctor Chamberlain approached, a bunch of bananas in his hand. He smirked as he offered me one, so I accepted his challenge, devouring his banana in an inappropriately sensual fashion.

"You've been teasing me for days," he said, his hairy chest looming over me. "You've been a very naughty student.

"I'm not your student," I said petulantly.

"Well then, I'll be daddy if you prefer. And you've been a very naughty boy." He smacked his palm hopefully against his thigh as I sighed in boredom. My thoughts returned to the shaman, imagining his immense muscular body against mine.

"Really, Doctor Chamberlain." Any trust I'd ever had in him had vanished since his little practical joke, in which he taught me the local phrase for "please fuck me hard without lubrication" and told me that it meant "good morning." My sphincter tightened at the memory. "You may suck my dick, if you like, but I do not wish to play your little dominance games."

Nor did I need to. I was the shaman's new favorite, and he was insanely jealous.

"Then perhaps this might interest you." He reached into his loincloth and produced a folded piece of paper (I had wondered about that oddly shaped bulge; it is very difficult to conceal things in these loincloths). I realized that it was part of a photograph, of myself. Yes, it was very definitely my face - my long aristocratic nose, my forthright blue eyes, my fine blond hair. And the chest, which was bare, was most definitely mine - wide shoulders, defined biceps, round pectorals, a heart-shaped patch of blond hair centered between them.

"Where did you get that?" I reached for the photograph, but he tauntingly held it out of my reach.

"Where do you want to go today?" he said snidely, striding off toward the bushes. I hastily followed him, but he knew where he was going. In a few moments I was standing helplessly lost in thick tropical rainforest. I was nearly in a panic when he suddenly appeared beside me.

"Hello, young man. Are you lost?"

He had acquired a length of vine, and was stretching it between his hands. I scowled. "Give me that photograph."

"That's going to cost you thirty strokes." He slapped the vine against the palm of his hand. "Now go over there and bend over that tree trunk."

"I won't!" I moved to grab the vine from him but he moved with incredible speed despite his age, and soon had me pinned in a wrestling hold. I struggled frantically beneath him, but I was trapped between his hairy, muscular thighs. He tied my hands behind me with the length of vine before releasing me, removing his own loincloth as I writhed helplessly at his feet. Then he gave the back of my loincloth a tug, making it ride up between my buttocks. I froze, petrified, wondering what this maniac was going to do to me.

His hand landed on my buttocks with a loud slap, and I cried for help at the top of my lungs. Surely some of the Hun-Gamin would be within shouting distance. But alas, nobody came, and he dealt me several more sharp blows, until my buttocks were quite warm, and tears were running from the corners of my eyes.

"Now, I believe you wanted to see this." He put the photograph on the ground next to my face, and I blinked the tears out of my eyes. It was a print-out from a good high quality laser printer, color. The paper was folded so that I couldn't see much more of my likeness than face and chest. Having been denied the use of my hands, I was forced to unfold the paper with my chin and tongue, rather a clumsy process. As I did this I could feel Doctor Chamberlain behind me, removing my loincloth, applying the juicy pulp of the Lubricanthia vine to the area between my reddened cheeks.

As the paper unfolded further I gasped in horror. The picture showed me in the process of receiving oral sex from one of the Hun-Gamin tribesmen. I used my tongue to unfold it even further and discovered a shot of my face impaled on a sizable male organ, and another of a thick prick entering me from behind, my eyes shut in ecstasy. My own organ hardened in response to these photographs, but I kept working away at the folds, and soon came across a block of text. "Journal, Day One," it started, and I recognized an excerpt from my own field notes.

I puzzled over this for a moment, and then grasped the top of the paper in my teeth, straightening out the very top. It took a moment for the absolute horror of the moment to register within my fevered brain. There, at the top was a newsgroup header. Alt.binaries.and.research.notes.lost.temple.erotica.

Doctor Chamberlain had stolen my research material and posted it on the internet along with pictures of me engaged in acts of eroticism with the Hun-Gamin tribe!

He forced himself into me as I came to this realization, and I screamed until my throat was hoarse, violated in more ways than I had ever dreamed it was possible to be violated.

"You! Stole! My! Notes!" I grunted between his rough thrusts. His big rough hands squeezed my buttocks, which were still sore from being flogged, as his thick cock battered at a place which had so recently known the loving touch of a soft tongue. He forced the thick head through my tight ring of muscle repeatedly, in shallow yet brutal strokes, and then he entered me with his full length, pulling at my bound wrists so that I was forced to arch my back and accept him deep as I contemplated legions of internet subscribers masturbating over my likeness (and research notes).

"That's right," he panted. "There's a retired drug lord living just over the hill with his own satellite hookup. We're old pals."

The fiend released my wrists, causing me to fall face first in the dirt, as he directed his attention to my own erection, which had grown thicker due to my thoughts of legions of masturbating internet subscribers. He seized it in both hands as he pumped into me. I turned my head to the side, resting my cheek against the printout, and as he jarred me with his incessant thrusting my journal unfurled, forcing me to read my own research notes, which were actually rather arousing, especially the part about the temple ceremony. His body became rigid as I got to the bottom of the article, and just as his first spurts pulsated into my abused orifice I read the final line. "Copyright 1999 Roger Chamberlain, Ph.D."

He had not only outed me, posted indecent snapshots of me on the internet (some of which were rather flattering), stolen my research notes and posted them as well.

He had taken credit for my work.

"You bastard!" I screamed, as he bellowed evil laughter and exploded his fluid into me (in multiple warm pulsating jets, as his hairy belly ground against my pink reddened cheeks). Then he withdrew with a final rude squeeze to my swollen testicles, leaving me bound and helpless, alone in the rainforest, naked, my flogged and raped buttocks exposed to anyone who should happen to walk by, my unsatisfied erection brushing against the soft loamy soil. I remained in that position for a time, entertaining a fancy which had recently entered my head concerning what might happen if the Lambda fraternity bodybuilding team should encounter me in my current state.

But then it was time to pull myself together, and I tilted my body backwards until I rose up on my knees, my hands still bound behind me, my erection pointed straight up at my chin. I tried to calm my mind in the way that the shaman had instructed, wondering what he would do in such a circumstance.

My trance was broken by the chattering of a monkey, which had landed directly in front of me. I warily noted its yellow fangs, so close to my more vulnerable parts. But the monkey made no threatening moves. It squatted on its haunches, chattering, and soon two other monkeys joined it.

I remained very still as they inspected my prick, their eyes big. Then one of them tentatively reached his prehensile tale toward it. The soft fur tickled and I made an involuntary sound, which seemed to please the monkeys. They shrieked in delight. Another tail ventured toward me, this one curling around my painfully swollen balls. Next, a tiny clawed hand gently patted the head of my prick as one of the monkeys rose on his hind feet, inspecting this alien thing closely. I felt his tongue dart out, tasting the clear fluid that bubbled from my slit.

The first monkey hopped onto my thigh, tail entwined around the base of my cock. His furry forepaws encircled it and he made little up-and-down motions, which excited the other two to the point where they also reared up and embraced me. I had spent a good deal of time observing this particular genus in the zoo during my adolescence, and knew that they delighted in frequent acts of autoeroticism, but I had never read in any of the journals of this sort of behavior occurring in the wild. Doctor Chamberlain would never take credit for this finding, I thought grimly as the monkeys assailed me. And at that thought my balls tightened, and the monkeys screeched as a jet of spunk shot out of my upwardly aimed cannon. The blob of come sailed over my head, landing on my bound wrists behind me. As I slowly deflated and the monkeys fled, I realized that this was exactly the right amount of lubrication I needed to free myself from the constricting vine.

Moments later I was free, my loincloth replaced. However, I was still lost. I blundered aimlessly about for quite some time before hearing the distinctive sound of a large generator. I followed the sound until I came to a building of some sort. All I could see from my perspective was a bland concrete wall, with an outbuilding for several roaring generators. My eyes traveled upward to the sizable satellite dish. Aha! This must be the retired drug lord of whom Doctor Chamberlain had spoken.

I was disappointed in my search for a doorbell, but I did find a gate, which buzzed open as soon as I touched it. This lead to a stairway, which brought me to a wooden door, partially ajar. I pushed it and it swung freely inward, exposing a tasteful room done mainly in shades of warm gold, a pleasing contrast to the everpresent green of the rainforest. A wide lanai on the other side of the house revealed a breathtaking view of a waterfall-fed stream. Large stereo speakers played soft Spanish guitar music at an ambient level.

"You admire the view." I turned to the side and the speaker stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, with dark hair caught back in a ponytail. He wore a tight pair of jeans, boots with silver tips and a duster. No shirt, his smooth yet toned chest bare. His face was smooth, with high cheekbones and dark slanting eyes, a long straight nose and wide sensuous lips. "I am Joao."

"Wow." I sat back on the tasteful gold sectional.

"Not 'wow,' Joao," he said crossly. I realized that I must look rather shabby in my loincloth, with my blond hair unkempt and streaked by the sun, and my skin starting to turn all brown (with a faint dusting of tiny freckles).

"I'm dreadfully sorry. I've been out of touch with civilization for several days."

"You are the man in the pictures!" His jaw dropped. "Take it out. I want to see it."

"Really!" I clasped my hands protectively over my loincloth. The blasted thing had begun to grow tight once again.

Joao ambled over to the sectional section adjacent to mine and sat beside me. I could smell his extremely expensive aftershave, and his breath carried a whiff of cilantro. "I apologize. That was a very rude way to behave in front of a guest. May I offer you anything?"

"Well, actually I understand you have a com-"

"Yes?" His face loomed inches before my eyes, his gaze directed to my lap, the tip of his tongue playing along his full upper lip.

"-puter." I gasped. His professionally manicured left hand (from the look of it) had landed on my thigh. Moments later the right one was on my shoulder, and Joao was on top of me, his tongue probing toward my sensitive epiglottis, his strong thighs and firm chest against mine.

"Take my computer," he panted. "Take my house, my body, my soul. It is all yours. Only do not leave me in this state of unrequited passion, or I shall surely die."

"Joao," I said, and indeed it was about all I could say at the moment.

His tongue began moving determinedly over my chin, down my throat, across my chest (it stopped for a detour around my left nipple with a brief excursion into the armpit), down my side, over my ribs, down to my navel, along the fine blond hairs beneath that, and finally to my loincloth, which he seized in his teeth and forcibly removed. Then he dropped to his knees before me, appreciatively watching me unfold. "The pictures do not lie," he said approvingly.

"You've seen . . . all of my pictures?"

"Oh, yes." He licked his lips. "I have worshipped them."

"Joao," I said weakly.

He produced a long-stemmed rose from a conveniently placed vase and lightly held the soft petals near the head of my cock, teasingly collecting the spot of nectar that had appeared there. He whisked the blossom to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he rubbed his smooth cheek against my cockhead, carressing his opposite cheek with the rose petals. He looked up into my eyes. "I can not tell which is the softer."

And then he fell upon me with his full sensuous lips, stretching them wide to accommodate me. He was able to envelop all but the last half inch, which felt quite marvelous, as though I were surrounded by pulsating wet velvet, but seemed to cause him no small amount of shame.

"I am not worthy to suck this magnificent thing," he said sadly as he slid his lips away and I felt the breeze from his overhead fan against my moist flesh. "It has defeated me."

"Oh no, please continue. It felt rather exquisite."

"No." Tears were in his eyes. "I must surrender myself to it."

He stood and unbuttoned his jeans, slipping out of his boots, leaving the duster on, revealing himself to me. His penis was not large, yet it was beautifully formed, covered in smooth skin with a small, gracefully curved head. I had the sudden inclination to drop to my knees before him and take it in my mouth, and since I was lately developing an impulsive attitude toward life, I responded to the urge. Joao's skin was soft and supple, smelling faintly of coconut oil, and I wrapped my arms around him as I devoured his tasty morsel. I was able to do all manner of inventive things to it with my tongue, and Joao seemed to appreciate these efforts for a few minutes. Then he pushed my head away and reached for a potted Lubricanthia vine.

He tore away a section of vine measuring approximately six inches, and he proceeded to rub the slippery and delicately scented liquid from the center between the cheeks of his buttocks, which were quite round and protruberant, yet still muscular. I longed to grasp them, and very shortly my wish became true, as he seized my hands and placed them there, lowering himself carefully onto me.

I felt a resistence at the head of my cock as his tight little entrance made contact. "Joao," I said. "This is the first time I've ever done this."

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, and he sank down upon me with a rapturous expression on his face, encompassing all of me into his depths. My faculties for logical reasoning departed me at this point, I'm afraid, as I found myself encased in a tight and slippery sheath of muscle, my hands firmly occipied by two firm globes, his surprisingly large balls tight against my pubic hair. He sat without moving, an enigmatic smile on his face, until I was most uncomfortable, perspiring freely, desirous of thrusting into him as hard as I possibly could.

And then he began to move, his torso undulating above me, falling and rising in a complicated rhythm, accompanying the passionate classical guitar CD he'd been playing. He seized another rose and stripped it of its petals, scattering them over my chest. He reached behind his neck and freed his long hair, scattering it over his shoulders, brushing my chest with it when he leaned down to apply his full lips to mine.

I was pleased to find the shaman's therapy proved efficacious, as I was able to resist this treatment for at least four and a half minutes before all of my synapses short circuited and I filled Joao with several cc's of my thick hot ejaculate, screaming his name as I did, clutching his throbbing manhood in both of my hands and feeling his steaming juices pulsate against my fingers as I erupted deep inside him.

We retired to the hot tub on the deck afterwards, Joao preparing a light snack of iced sangria and spicy sausage quesadillas. I had been a vegan previous to this adventure but was swiftly learning that I craved regular servings of hot, juicy meat.

A 30" flatscreen monitor was set into the wall nearest the hot tub, and a cordless waterproof keyboard floated on the surface. "One of my last extravagances before I retired from the evil profession of selling cocaine," Joao said disdainfully. "Now I make my living as a simple internet pornographer, supplemented by a small field of hemp."

Indeed, I noticed a small video image in a window at the bottom corner of the screen, a hidden camera view of my activities several minutes ago. My face was not visible, otherwise I might have been extremely embarrassed. Instead, I found myself intrigued by the sight of Joao's smooth ass bobbing up and down on my rigid protruberance, the finely defined muscles in his upper back shivering each time the flanged head of it re-penetrated him.

Motivated as I was, and possessed of the familiarity with computers that goes along with being a highly intelligent adolescent in a cruel and unfeeling world, I spent several blissful hours destroying Dr. Chamberlain's credit rating, and hacking his personal webpage until it included several skillfully manipulated images depicting him performing obscene acts with endangered rainforest animals, and registering him with www.please.send.me.all.the.spam.in.the.world.com, and other mischievous pranks. Night had fallen by the time I had finished, so I thought it prudent to spend the night with Joao. In the morning, he fed me huevos rancheros and gave me a lift back to the lost temple in his sports utility vehicle. Dwin-Ge, Fang and Muscles came out to greet us with the enthusiastic hospitality typically found among the Hun-Gamin, and soon Joao was slathered with the fragrant and delicious juice of the Lubricanthia vine, pumping briskly into Dwin-Ge as Fang entered him from behind and Muscles enjoyed his full, velvety lips. I was almost tempted to join them, but I was anxious to see the shaman. I hurred along the mysterious jungle trail to the ancient stone temple where he lived

I found him in trance, sitting in a carved stone chair, the morning sun caressing him through the open ceiling of the temple, illuminating his delicious tattoos and his massive muscular torso. I dropped to my knees before him, reverently placing my lips against the smooth ivory ring that ran through the head of his thick cock. It rose to the touch of my lips, and I looked up at him as I manipulated the ivory ring with my tongue. His eyes focused and he smiled down at me, his thick fingers stroking my cheeks as I ground my face into his pelvis worshipfully.

Soon I felt his muscles grew rigid, and I clamped my lips over the head of his cock, tonguing the ivory ring, feeling his hallucinogenic juice erupt against the roof of my mouth. I was careful to swallow all of it.

"I have missed you," he said softly, running his fingers through my hair. This was the first time he had spoken to me. I hadn't previously been aware that he spoke English. He read the astonishment on my face and laughed, and I realized that he hadn't moved his lips at all.

"I missed you, too," I said as he pulled me up to sit on his lap. "I was lost in the forest - Dr. Chamberlain - and then the monkeys - and then I met -"

He put his finger on my lips. "I have seen everything. Do not worry, my beloved. I have a special punishment in mind for Dr. Chamberlain, and I have a special ceremony planned for you."

"A special ceremony!" My skin tingled as I recalled the last special ceremony.

"But first I must continue your training." I felt him beginning to swell beneath me. "Your destiny is special. I must take you on a journey, so that you may learn more."

He snapped his fingers and a handsome elderly man with feathers braided into his gray hair appeared with a section of the requisite vine. He annointed me with its slippery pulp, and then the shaman beckoned to me. I climbed up the carved stone, settling myself on his lap, facing him.

My knees straddled his hips, and I felt the ivory ring that ran through the head of his cock pushing at my sensitive little opening, stretching it in preparation for his rigid flesh. I quivered around the smooth ivory, trying to pull it deep inside me, closing my eyes in ecstasy when my attempts were successful and his smooth head slid into my willing flesh. I lowered myself until I engulfed him completely, my head spinning with the shock of being entered. I wrapped my legs around his hips, arms around his chest, all of my weight resting on the point where our bodies joined.

He applied his full lips to mine, the ornament at the end of his tongue seeking its way into my mouth, and he held me that way for what felt like hours, his warm presence in me and around me, his tongue gently probing, the ivory ring pressed against a sensitive spot deep inside me, my rigid member trapped between our bellies.

Several times I tried to thrust against him, but his arms clamped around me tightly at each attempt, overpowering me and holding me still, until I was moving rapidly in and out of consciousness, seeing strange shapes and hallucinations, the tension increasing until I was screaming, pleading with him, straining against his tight grip. He waited until the last possible moment, until I thought my heart would stop if he didn't release me from this agonizing state of heightened arousal, and then he began moving his hips in long, smooth thrusts, his hands clamping around my pelvis as he guided me. Something deep within my mind cracked and broke open, and I surrendered to his pounding rhythm, giving him my body and mind and soul for his pleasure.

And as this happened the stone walls of the ancient temple seemed to dissolve, and I found myself reliving the best orgasms of several of my past lives, something which I'll admit I had not really believed scientifically valid before. First I was a young soldier, my toga in disarray, my stiff phallus clutched between the fingers of Alexander the Great as he thrust violently into my willing flesh. Next I was a young Egyptian, oiled and perfumed, my smooth hairless body accepting the thick prong of Pharoah himself. I was a beardless Celtic boy, King Arthur's sword sheathed within me as we hovered in the bushes, watching Lancelot's contortions with Guinevere. I was a Mongol warlord, my manhood buried in the quivering depths of a young Chinese noble tied across the saddle of my pony. An Apache brave, enjoying the mouth of a blond young cavalry soldier I'd just ambushed. A Dutch merchant in a ruffled collar, being violated on the deck of a pirate ship. Finally I was myself again, writhing ecstatically as my personal time paradigm collapsed and the cumulative effect of thousands of years of intense orgasms combined with the heavy dosage of neurotransmitters present in the shaman's semen left me quite insensate.

I was dimly aware that the shaman had summoned several burly attendants with a sedan chair to take us to the hot springs. It wasn't until the shaman and I were relaxing in the warm water, enjoying frozen pina coladas that Joao had brought in an insulated hamper in the back of his sports utility vehicle, that I was able to form a coherent thought.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had," I declared.

The shaman gave a deep, rumbling laugh. "Your youthful innocence is so refreshing," he said (without opening his mouth). "Wait until I take you on the advanced journeys."

I slurped at my pina colada. "You said that this journey was supposed to reveal to me my destiny."

"Didn't it?"

"I saw myself having sex. Really good sex. I was in different places, at different times, in different bodies, but all of them involved sex."

"Then your destiny must involve sex." He flicked the jade ornament at the tip of his tongue lewdly at me. "Good sex, at that. You've been training for many lifetimes."

"You know more," I ventured. "But you're not telling me."

"You're not ready yet, my beloved. Be patient. Have you been following my instructions, and having as much sex as possible?"

"Yes." I blushed deeply. "And I must say, it's been quite a liberating experience."

"Good. Keep practicing, and soon you will be ready for the next initiation" The shaman stroked my shoulders lovingly as I snuggled contentedly against his broad, muscular, tattooed chest.

@@@@@

"Joao! Anybody home?" Dr. Chamberlain stepped onto the deck, shooing a large cockatoo out of the way, noticing that the stereo was silent, and no bubbles were gushing from the hot tub. He fished the keyboard out and logged on, smiling to see the "you've got mail" icon.

Twenty minutes later he was no longer smiling. Only 50 of the messages had finished downloading. With a ferocious grimace he clicked "cancel," several times.

He pulled up the browser and jumped to his personal webpage.

His expression grew grimmer still.

"All right, kid. This means war," Dr. Chamberlain muttered to himself as he went back to e-mail and composed a swift two paragraph message. He stabbed the "send" button with such force that he tore open a hangnail. He raised his wounded digit to his lips and sucked, smiling as he tasted blood.

To be continued . . .

Next: Chapter 3


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