CROCODILE LUCK
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
One of the two Egyptian crewmen on the boat was either singing or chanting a melody; whether it was prayers to Allah or just a dirty little ditty, it was perfect for the setting. I was lounging on my back on a comfortable pallet aboard a small sailing boat, looking out at palm trees, primitive villages and boats like the one I was on, with large, triangular sails that were smaller and taller than the ones I was used to on the sailboats back in America. I was stripped down to a pair of shorts and a pair of binoculars around my neck, soaking up the hot African sun, determined to even out the rather uneven tan I'd picked up over the weeks I had been touring Africa.
After enduring a gaggle of giggling girls for a week, it was such a relief to get to the last leg of my tour of Africa, that of a river trip down the Nile. We had started out at Aswan, just below the dam and the water flow was brisk due to the dam releasing the floodwaters from the rainy season upstream. Not too bad, mind you, the worst of the rainy season water had already been released. The morning had been full of sights to see, but this afternoon, it was getting kind of dull.
"Look!" Husani said, pointing.
I looked out at a dozen or so silvery-sheened crescents near the water under some bushes. Shadows and glints was all I saw, nothing else. "What are they?" I asked.
Zayid laughed. "Why don't you swim over and see?" he said, with a mean grin on his face.
"They are crocodiles." Husani said, with a chiding tone in his voice as he looked at his brother.
"Yeah?" I said and lifted the binoculars to my eyes, focused in on them. Yep, crocodiles. They looked about like you'd expect crocodiles to look, and you could get a better look at them than I did then at any zoo. They didn't seem to be doing anything, and I said as much to my erstwhile guides.
"They are hiding from the sun." Husani mentioned. "The heat is too much for them."
"When the sun goes down, they will be active." Zayid said. "At least the bulls will be. The cows will be guarding their nests."
"A good time to hunt them." Husani said as he looked at his older brother.
Zayid humphed and turned away, frowning. "Their mating time is past." he said. "Only a fool would rush a female crocodile on her nest, she would attack."
I was missing something here. "If you're hunting crocodiles, why not just shoot them on their nest?" I knew crocodiles were endangered and illegal and such, but I also knew the poverty here that would make a man breach such laws.
"The kind of shooting Zayid would do, you cannot do from a safe distance." Husani laughed.
I was definitely missing something. "What kind of shooting did he have in mind?"
"No kind of shooting." Zayid said firmly. "And that is final."
"All right." I agreed. The day was warm, too hot for arguing. The river took a sharp turn and entered some limestone cliffs that cut off any serious attempt at sightseeing. I drowsed instead, and Husani and his brother rigged a shade for me when they saw me falling asleep. We would be on this trip down the Nile for some days yet, there was plenty of time.
When I awoke, it was sundown. I felt my skin gingerly, I'd had a bit too much sun but didn't think I was actually burned. My skin felt hot, but not painful. I rose up and looked around. I saw a small collection of buildings and a pier where we had docked, but not much else. "Where are we?"
"Not so far from Jirja." Husani answered. He spoke English better and with less of an accent than Zayid. They didn't look so much like brothers; Zayid was very dark brown and round-faced, a person looking at him in the United States would probably assume he was black. Whereas Husani was much lighter skinned and had a larger, squared-off face. He looked more Arabian than African, if you see what I mean. Both wore the long white robe that stretched from neck to ankles in a single, unbroken line, their heads topped with a small turban, their lips bearing small, sharp mustaches.
"Where is Jirja?" I asked.
"Just past Naj Ammadi." Husani volunteered as if that would mean anything. He smiled when he saw my befuddlement and explained. "This is our stop for the night."
"All right." I said. "I'm ready to eat now, anyway."
My supper was at an outdoors restaurant, plenty of exotic food I couldn't quite identify, but which tasted just fine; I think most of the meat was lamb. From there, I was shown to a room with a soft bed and an electric ceiling fan.
But I couldn't sleep, especially after napping away the afternoon. This place really needed air conditioning, the place was hot even though the night air outside was wonderfully cool by comparison. After a time of tossing and turning, I got up and decided to sit up until I cooled off from the horribly hot day. The temperature hadn't varied much on the other stops which were closer to the equator, but Egypt is far enough north to definitely start to have a summer and a winter, and this was summer!
When the crowd of voices congregated outside my window, that was the last straw. I got up and leaned to look out. A bunch of young men, and Zayid was among them. Curious, I listened in, to see what was going on.
There were some tourists from America in the group, so my eavesdropping told me what was going on, though it was hard to believe. These guys were hiring these native men, including my guides, to go out and help them capture a female crocodile, which they were then going to fuck! Honest!
I learned this later; it seems that there's an old superstition dating back who knows how long, that if you fuck a crocodile, you will have fortune and good luck for the rest of your life. What I overheard was the haggling for the price of these men helping capture a female croc and flipping it onto its back, whereby it'd be mostly helpless long enough for these probably drunk young tourists to, uh, win their luck.
I got dressed and went downstairs, by then the group was heading for the riverbank. The native men had said a herd of crocodiles (crocodiles live in groups) to be nearby.
I had to decide what to do next. I could go back to my too-hot room and continue to pretend to sleep, or I could go down to the riverbank and watch some guys try to fuck a crocodile. I think you'll agree that of those two alternatives, the real entertainment was to be had down by the riverbank! I intended to stand well back from the river's edge, keeping an eye out for wandering crocodiles, watch the proceedings quietly, and then go back to bed. This was one entertainment on my African tour that I had no intention of participating in!
The night was cooler than my room, the night was empty and silent save for the voices of the men down by the river, upstream of the pier. I followed their voices through the African night, accompanied only by a bit of music from the inn/hotel/motel/whatever I had just left. I moved in starlit darkness over smooth, even ground flattened by many thousands of years of human feet or the floods of the Nile, or both, hearing the growing sounds of many voices in an unknown language. Everything felt so...primeval, that night, the simple landscape, the voices, the knowledge of their perverse and bestial intent. It almost bemused me, that night.
I heard a growling snarl and jumped back. I had damned near stepped on a crocodile. A big one! Where the hell had it come from?
I back away and it came after me. Shit! I turned and ran back the way I'd come, and a white rectangular figure was there, holding a torch which lit his gold face. Husani!
"Crocodile!" I said, as if he needed to hear that. "It's right on me!"
"I see it." Husani said and he brandished the torch at it, and it balked at the fire, it's rage calmed down in the face of the fire and it lowered itself. Husani raised the torch back up. "We should walk away quietly now, carefully. It will not pursue us."
I did as he said, casting frequent looks back, but the crocodile wasn't following us, and I even saw it turn to go back the way it came.
"Thanks, Husani." I said. "You saved my life; I nearly stepped on that thing and it moved so fast."
"The crocodile defending its nest or young is very vicious." Husani said.
"Is that why you aren't with your brother and the others?" I ventured.
"No." Husani said. "I was in the room next to yours, and when I heard you leave, I followed you. The night can be dangerous if you are not careful, especially with the crocodiles nearby."
"I was just curious." I said. "I just wanted to see them capture a crocodile."
"And what comes after." Husani nodded knowingly. He could read my mind, I swear.
"Well...yeah. And what's wrong with that?" I asked. "I think it's a stupid thing to be doing, but hell, long as they're doing it anyway, I'd like to see it."
"Then we shall go and see it." Husani said to me. "Come, this way." And he took us on a path that was somewhat away from the river. I assume we were making a wide circuit around that female croc and her nest, and God knows, I didn't object.
But when we found the others, it was only their lights, they had crossed the river. Taking some boats, I guess, I could see that they had gathered around, presumably gang-raping some hapless female crocodile, but I couldn't see a damned thing.
Tired, I sat on the riverbank and said, "Shit!"
"I am sorry we cannot cross the river, but the other crocodiles are surely about." Husani said, as he sat beside me.
I looked about. "We seem to be alone here." I said. "No crocodiles around...or are there?" I finished nervously.
"Yes, crocodiles live in families, the others will be across the river, perhaps trying to rescue their sister. What the others are doing is very dangerous, for the crocodile is very dangerous."
I smiled. "A good thing we're over here then, isn't it?"
"Yes." Husani agreed.
"A damned shame, though." I said. "All those guys getting laid, and me not getting any at all." I made an exaggerated pout with my lower lip, so he could see it.
I was only joking, or maybe I wasn't. Husani always could pick up my innermost thoughts as quick as I had them. And of course, if he read my mind that well, he could see everything else that was in there.
His hand that came around my shoulders was strong and assured, no tentative gesture at all. He knew it would be welcomed by me, and it was. I turned my face to his and folded myself into his arms and I reached for his mouth with my own.
His breath was so fresh, he must have brushed his teeth not long before, his mouth was clean and somewhat mint-flavored. I had brushed my own teeth so was happy that he wasn't enduring an unclean mouth of his own in this kiss. I sucked in and tasted his tongue, so rich and ripe and slightly tangy in its savory saliva, the dusky essence of his ethnic heritage, giving him an exotic taste, a foreign scent, an alien feel. I had been in Africa for well over a month, and here, now, I took my first African lover in the guise of this dun-colored, square-jawed, thin-mustached young man only slightly older than myself, and I let the foreign land enter my senses with his embrace.
His full-length tunic (called a "galabayya") was thin and white for the hot weather; I could feel his body through it as easily as through a shirt. His well-muscled body slipped easily under my questing fingers, his body seeming to be pliable and liquid, so smoothly did my fingers glide over the muscles of his shoulder and back. I caught and clenched the bicep of his further arm in order to have some grip upon his almost slippery frame, realizing that it was the cloth and not his body which caused this sliding, and he permitted me this grip and when he raised his arm to clench my arm in his own hand, his bicep grew within my palm until it filled it to bursting.
His lips took on a more demanding tone, and now he was pressing me backwards, rising over me, taking ascendancy. I gave way beneath his peremptory strength and soon was flat on my back and he was reaching one leg over me to capture my own legs beneath the tight grip of his galabayya, trapping me helpless beneath him...not that I wanted to escape! When his lips found mine again, I opened my mouth and let him force his tongue into my mouth, take possession of me in this way.
His hands were undoing my shirt buttons and he did it skillfully, for shirts were common enough among his people if considered somewhat impractical in design. His own clothing gave him complete ease of movement yet did not come loose or flap about as my shirt would were it not carefully tucked and fastened. And beneath it he could wear as little or much as his whimsy dictated.
I had caught him preparing for bed with my leaving my room, he had nothing beneath his galabayya, and I felt his hardness pressing on my stomach as we kissed (for I was a good six inches taller than him, he had to scoot up like this to match our lips) and his galabayya kept me from my intented counter, which was to thrust my erection up between his legs and let it jab into his buttocks, I was caught in a wrap of cloth too tight to perform any such indignity until he permitted it.
My own clothing gave me no such protection, under his fingers my shirt fell open and he was able to kiss at my skin as he would, my slightly inflamed skin (I had burned somewhat, after all, during the day, it seemed) seethed under his passionate lips to a new flame, that which burned from within, and the irritation of the sun caught fire from my rising desire and it ignited wherever his lips chose to travel, so that his kisses were a trail of fire over my body and I groaned, hunched upwards against him with renewed fury, my trapped groin oozing and gumming my shorts with their frustrated passion.
"Oh, God, oh, God, Husani!" I groaned. "Take it off, please!" I begged as I clutched at his galabayya. "Let me see your body, let me touch it!"
He smiled and stood over me, and I was disappointed to see that he only lifted it up before he knelt back down, but now my bare legs below my shorts touched the insides of his thighs, for when he knelt back down, he was reaching for my fly. My cock was a huge bulge of obstructed passion, and when his fingers undid the buttons of my fly, it surged out, caught in the white cotton of my briefs, rising up like a serpent caught beneath my clothes.
Husani reached down and grasped my cock through my briefs and squeezed it, and I moaned my lust in that squeeze, feeling my precome gush out from that one clutch, that one pressure, soiling me further.
"Guh! Gah!" I groaned again.
"Patience, my little crocodile." Husani chided me. "I shall not release you until I have taken your luck with me."
I had to grin at this conceit. "Then let my jaws fasten on you and I'll show you what it costs to earn your luck from me!" I gnashed my teeth at him to show him what I meant.
He realized what I really meant and he grinned, his ivory teeth gleaming in the dim light of the moonless sky and in that near lightlessness, he scooted forward and I clutched quickly at his now-bared cock, bearing it before him as he crawled up my chest, holding his galabayya up with one hand as he went.
His other hand was free, though, and it guided my lips to his cockhead and when he lurched forward again, that cockhead plowed deeply into my mouth and throat. I was glad I had worked up my saliva during his trek up my body, I was able to greet that long, deep-brown prong properly, not choking and gasping as it plunged into my throat and buried itself there, digging deeper to let its body follow the head on into me.
Such a long, fat cock! It stretched my lips, a heavy thick-skinned dong running folds of velvety foreskin over and around my lips as it fled inwards...and still it came on. Now the cockhead was uncomfortably far down my throat, bent sharply but resisting this bend, in my position it was awkward, and still his pud dove into me.
I rose up as well as I could and that let me straighten out my throat somewhat, arcing my back and that fat dick of his took the opportunity and plunged in, and now finally his pubic hair brushed my nostrils and his balls slapped my chin; I had taken it all.
Husani held me like that for a time, and then he groaned and I felt his cock jerk in my mouth. There was no way I could suck it in this position, all I could do was hold on like this and wait for him to pull it back out again himself.
But he was content to keep it there and I remained like this for some time, smothered with hard Egyptian cock and smelling the rich raunch of his crotch, a wet, seething, dark smell like the smell of old leaves turned over in the fall to reveal black earth below.
And now, only after he was good and ready, did he pull it back out, that long, long length slid away from my throat and as soon as the passage to my nostrils was freed, I took a hard breath through my nose, and it was a good thing I did, for no sooner had the cockhead touched the back part of my tongue, than he plunged the thick horse-dick back into me!
Jesus, this was fun but it was also stifling me! I took his massive dong into me again, but when he pulled back the second time, grunting his eager lust, I leaned back to the ground and let it fall from my lips, now coated with a thick layer of my saliva, it left my mouth connected still by a heavy rope of slimy mucous that draped over my chin and then hung there like a rope bridge connecting our two bodies across the chasm of my chest and neck.
When his hand tried to lift me peremptorily back up to take his dong again, I gasped out, "God, I got to have that in me. Come on, fuck me, man, fuck me!" I wasn't sure I could take that huge dong, but I was sure that if I tried to keep deep-throating that monster prick, they'd take me home in a body bag--cause of death, suffocation by human dick, what a hell of an epitaph!
He rose, still holding his galabayya high on his body and I arose, slipping my shorts down my body. "Can't you take that thing off?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "If someone comes by, I can let it drop." he explained. "Then none can prove what we have been doing." I guess gay sex in Egypt was frowned upon, or maybe he had a reputation to protect. I don't know; I never asked and never found out.
But I turned around at the behest of his hand which clutched on my shoulder and that fat dong nestled at my ass-cheeks, questing for a new hole to replace the one it had savaged so thoroughly.
When his cockhead found my tiny bunghole, I groaned, but Husani was deaf to my tiny entreaty, he began to ram that huge pud into me right then and there. I sort of gurgled when I felt that monstrous head pressing into me, but it wasn't as bad as I feared, my body took it though leaving me with a "stretched" feeling all the way inside. I had been keeping my ass rather active these past weeks, I felt a sort of triumph that the massive prick Husani was packing could only give me this stretched feeling, and when it was buried inside me, he gave a few light thrusts into my body, and I moaned. "Yeah, like that, Husani!" I gasped out. "Just like that! Come on, fuck me, stud, fuck me good!"
He continued with the small, rapid thrusts that kept the entirety of that massive prick inside of me and I groaned, for this fat schlong was stroking my prostate with every slight tremor. I gurgled with passion from the repeated light pumps into my body, and I moaned my frustration and disappointment when he began to withdraw that huge organ. "Aw, come on, put it back in!" I whined. "You can't get any luck this way!"
"Down on the ground." was his only comment, no, an order. I obediently went to my knees and he followed me all the way, his cockhead still stuffed into my ass and his prong swinging like a cable between us. When I was on my knees and he was as well, he shoved that dong back into me and I moaned once more, and this time his moans accompanied mine, in a higher and more melodic counterpoint.
He let his galabayya fall and it draped over my buttocks, and he fucked me beneath its warm covering. I wished that his galabayya was big enough to carry both of us within it, me wrapped around his body and fucking myself with his every step or movement, swaying like a chimp on a limb, back and forth, up and down, in and out!
This thought made me move and turn over even as he was fucking me and I pivoted on that huge prick like a pig on a spit, lifting my legs up carefully and he guided me over as he understood what I wanted, and soon he was able to lean over and into my arms and I clung to him as he buried himself securely, deeply, once more.
I ran my arms under the galabayya, I caught his bare skin with my arms and I lifted the galabayya as high as I could, and I got my head under and now I could kiss those tender nubs of his breasts, and I pressed hard against him and the galabayya fell onto my shoulders.
I wished I could crawl under, but there wasn't enough room. Still, this was better than nothing, to be able to kiss his flesh while he humped at my buttocks with a million small rapid thrusts, a wiggling sort of fuck that drove me mad with passion, I groaned my lust around his breast and came out for air once more, and to feast upon his face with my avid lips.
His lips, his nose, his forehead, he was slipping away from me, my added height and my cramped position was unraveling, as my back straightened itself out, and soon his head was nestled in the hollow of my chest and he ran his tongue over my chest hairs while he fucked at me, fucked at me, god, a million little thrusts into me, a million sensations arising from my intestines, prowling outwards from my prostate, scintillating up my spine to burrow into my brain!
I looked with increasingly glazed eyes up at him, his face glowing brighter as our lovemaking increased, so that I could see his eyes glinting at me, sparkling with internal fires.
Fires? Torches? Husani fucked me harder than ever and I forgot the lighting--they would pass us by--and I clutched as my cock began to surge with the internal pleasures of orgasm, and as Husani began to groan and thrust his cock into me with less finesse and more urgency, and I heard a growl begin in his throat that rose with each grunt to a louder level until his growl overcame the grunts, he was almost roaring, his lips parted to let the sound escape as it would, and with a litany of groans, his cock turned hard as steel and he thrashed in my arms and I felt his salty jism slather itself around my innards.
God, he was coming, he was alive in my embrace, and I clutched him, feeling the salty sting of his jism and I said, "Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-uhhhhh!" as my own jism pelted his stomach, me roiling in my climax as he, finished with his, collapsed onto me in sweaty fatigue to move in slack, aimless gestures as he strove to recover the use of his body.
The lights which had briefly lit our world had gone again, and I clutched him in the renewed darkness. "I think the crocodile hunters have gone back to the hostel." I said to him.
"We had best return as well." Husani agreed.
After that was another two days of travel by boat (and two nights of Husani in my bed, slipping in after his brother had retired for the night) and then a week at a nice hotel in Cairo, one my father had booked for me. Plus a small amount of money to spend on seeing the sights, and there were plenty. And Husani stayed with me for most of that week, before he had to take the boat back upriver with his brother.
My parents and sisters arrived at my room and I was actually happy to see them, I was so bored. They'd had a worse time of it than me, or maybe they were less adventurous. As my mother summarized, "The jungle was messy, the dinosaur dig was dusty, the flight was aboard a plane that leaked gas fumes into the cabin and that boat ride down the Nile was loaded with bugs."
"Yeah." "Hated it!" my sisters chimed in.
"You should have been on my tour." I said. "I had a great time. Learned a lot. Want to do it again."
"Well, I guess next year I'll just take the womenfolk to Paris." my father said. "But for you, son, I've been talking to the tour group coordinator. How does a trip up the Amazon River sound, all by yourself, with some experienced guides to take care of you?"
I smiled. "Sounds great." I agreed.
THE END
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