Expedition to Mesopotamia 17 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
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During the next week, I bonded with Omar and his relatives. My ability to translate the sacred documents astounded them. By tradition, they knew the documents were sacred. No one had been able to read the documents for well over a thousand years. The last Coptic priest had died in 931 A.D. I was a prophet and a holy man to them. Since I was also an aristocrat and a Scot, I was clearly set apart from the ordinary.
They also recognized Otto as a learned man, and Walter was acceptable since his was part of Otto's family. The other Germans were demanding and not particularly friendly. Ernst's ability to take multiple cocks in his ass made up for his prickly personality. The Italians would have been acceptable were it not for the stories filtering up from Abyssinia. The deposed Emperor was a holy man and the descendants of many holy men. The Arabs tended to keep away from the Italians.
We had been at work on the site when a mixed group of Italian and German military men appeared out of nowhere. Our expedition was superbly equipped; indeed, you might say it was overly equipped. I realized that we had the extra equipment for the newcomers.
I was the only Briton in the group but I spoke perfect German. Ernst introduced me as the Freiherr Frederic. That was a substantial increase in rank from my actual position, but Ernst liked me to be a higher rank.
The soldiers stayed to themselves and did not associate with the members of the expedition. Luckily, Albert functioned as a medical officer and the detachment of soldiers had none. Albert had a knack for finding men who shared his interest. Guido had similar tastes. Since he was both big and manly, he was able to let men know he was interested. they maintained friendly relations with the troops.
A week later a smaller group of men arrived at our camp. These were officers and technicians. The head of security was none other than Hans Schultz, my friend from Alexandria. My mother had arranged safe passage for his grandchildren to Scotland. He was very much in my debt. The Nazis had removed all of the old guard from the diplomatic security services, but Schultz had knowledge of the region and understood Arab courtesy. He assigned to the expedition for that reason.
He came to my tent the day after he arrived. My tent was located by the Church away from the main camp. Ernst thought it would be wise to provide a little, informal security there to eliminate the potential for looting the artifacts. They said I was there because I wanted to be nearer the library for convenience's sake. I shared the tent with Walter.
Hans explained the reason for the expedition. "Some idiot in Berlin thinks it might be possible to capture Egypt by going below the Sahara and attacking from the south," he said. "That is a crazy idea; anyone one who has been here knows that."
"It is French controlled, isn't it?" I asked.
"They do not think France will exist by the time they get here," he said. "They would land in Dakar, and then head west. It is thousands of kilometers without roads, food or gasoline. Some genius in Berlin must be blowing some uppity-up's cock, and as a reward they made him a military planner." We talked and I found out the details of the plan. They were the creation of a delusional man.
As we talked, Hans was adjusting his genitals, making sure their outline was on display to best advantage. Walter returned to the tent, dampening Hans' plans the night. Walter saw Hans's snake through his thin shorts and was impressed. Hans looked at me, gesturing with his head toward Walter. I winked and Schultz smiled and readjusted his shorts again. Walter saw the movement and looked at Schultz. Walter smiled as he scratched his equipment.
"You must be dirty and dusty from your trip. Did anyone tell you we discovered a bath here?" I asked. "Remarkably it is still in operating condition." We went to the bath. Murad was there alone with a single lantern. When he saw me, he smiled
I turned my lamp down and began to unbutton my shirt. Schultz and Walter followed suit. "I feel like a midget in the land of the giants," Walter said when he looked at us. His own cock was on the high side of average, but the rest of us were bigger than he was.
"Is your ass virgin?" Schultz asked.
"No," Walter replied. "I've never taken any thing as big as yours." Walter knew how to flatter too.
"Well, you just let Uncle Hans do some ass stretching exercises," Schultz asked with a broad smile on his face. "I have helped many men broaden their horizons."
"I assume you help them deepen their appreciation of sex too?" Walter said.
I broke into their banter. "Let me give you some useful diplomatic advice, my dear friend," I said to Schultz. "If I wanted to make my visit to Egypt easier and more pleasant, I would connect with Murad. He is a good man and he can be very helpful," I said. "He is related to everyone and knows all the possible pitfalls of this area."
"How do I do that?" Schultz asked.
"Let him visit the inner parts of your rectum," I said. "I do need to warn you though; he may be too big for you, so think carefully before you made a decision. His manhood is impressive now, but when it is fully erect it is even bigger."
I knew that Schultz had no problem with size; quite to the contrary, he liked them big. I have to admit I liked the prospect of watching Schultz squirming on Murad's pole. If Schultz was good enough, Murad might let him serve other men too. I wanted Schultz to make sure he connected with Murad for his own safety. The Nazis were not good with native peoples. A good load of Murad's sperm in his ass provided some insurance for him if things went bad.
Schultz went over to Murad. They could not speak the same language, but sex has its own secret language. When I saw Schultz in action, I realized that much of his career was due to his sexual skills. He was truly versatile and enjoyed it all.
Walter and I went over to help the two men. Schultz wanted us to hold him in specific positions. These positions seemed to be pleasurable for both men. I screwed Schultz later that night and rediscovered he had a nearly prehensile ass. He could massage my cock as I thrusted it into him. Murad was no stranger to man sex, and I had noticed him react to Schultz's anal skills.
When we returned to our tent, Walter and I took turns fucking Schultz for an hour or so. Much to my surprise, Murad came to the tent and fucked Schultz for another hour. Murad asked me if Schultz would like to meet some of the men in his family. I asked Schultz if he was willing. I knew that he was more than willing.
The next day we had unexpected visitor; a Dutch adventurer had crashed his plane in the desert. He was trying to make a solo flight from Amsterdam to Batavia, the capital of the Dutch East Indies. Hans de Troop was a handsome man, with only minor injuries. He explained a fuel line had sprung a leak. Fortunately, he was able to land with only minor damage to the plane and with minimal injuries to himself.
Albert set his broken arm, and he stayed with Walter and me. Anglo-Dutch Shell sponsored the flight and we decided to take him to Al-Nasry where they could send someone pick him up. I accompanied him to the town with Murad's son, Amir as our guide.
In the tent, Hans complained about the heat. I said I was used to it now. I was a Scot and it had taken a while to acclimatize to the Mid-Eastern hear.
"You must long for the chill rains of Midlothian," he said. Hans knew my brother Angus from the Great War. He had been part of the Dutch negotiating team. I gave him my information about the expedition. Hans thought the concept of a southern attack on Egypt was comic and entirely impossible. He was an educated man and the potential Queen of Sheba and Queen Nefertiti connection amused him greatly. I again suggested that the expedition was decoy, diverting attention from another plot or plan.
Hans was well informed about German intentions. "If Herr Hitler had an ounce of common sense, he would avoid war, but I doubt that. The best we in the Netherlands could hope for is to remain neutral as in the last war. I have my doubts," he said. "Hitler thinks we are his natural allies, part of the Arian race, whatever that is. Can you imagine Queen Wilhelmina hobnobbing with Herr Hitler and his mistress? He also has hopes that your King Edward and his mistress will lead Britain into his arms. Edward's mistress likes powerful men."
"Edward is the King, but as yet there is no Queen," I said.
"Hitler thinks the Duke of York is a nobody. Edward is handsome and very popular," Hans said.
"Wilhelmina is a dowdy old woman. Would the Dutch trade her in for a flashier Queen under Hitler's thumb?" I asked.
"Perhaps several thousand years after Hell froze over," Hans replied.
"The Duke and Duchess of York and their pretty daughters have all the cards in their hands if they need them," I said.
Hans told me the King was acting strangely. There was a Mediterranean vacation with his mistress. Even Edward VII knew how a King should act, no so his grandson. I turned Hans over to a Dutch national in Al-Nasry. He had a letter from Angus to me. The accident had been pre planned, although Hans's broken arm was not part of the plan.
In the letter, Angus said there was a suspicion that several of the men in the expedition were to stir up troubles with the Arab desert tribes. Some still looked on the Mahdi as a hero. The intention was to divert British troops from a potential Italian invasion from Libya.
I knew that information would interest Omar. His clan was fiercely opposed to the Mahdi and his ilk. I had no idea who these agents were, but assumed they must have been in Schultz's party. I would have some work to do when I got back to the expedition.
I talked with Amir on the way back. He was twenty years old but almost as big and tall as Murad. He looked exceedingly fierce. When his father, Omar, entrusted my safety to his it was a great honor. I was a seer and a prophet. The desert is a dangerous place, but Amir knew it well.
Amir said the clan lived in ten villages and controlled two hundred miles of the Nile. They had secret affiliations with three other major clans. They saw themselves as the ancient and true Egyptians and the inheritors of ancient knowledge. They were the protectors and guardians of the holy books. When I translated them, they realized they indeed contained the wisdom of the past. While officially they were conventional Muslims, they believed that Jehovah, Christ, Osiris and Aten were integral parts of the divine.
The area had been peaceful for centuries until the Mahdi. He was a heretic of the worst sort who led the weak minded in a destructive crusade. The Mahdi had caught them off guard and they live in terror until the Scots with their terrifying din drove the Mahdi off. They knew about guns and cannons, but the bagpipe seem to be the most frightening weapon. Even camels fled in terror.
I told Amir of my brother's letter. He was Angus, the Earl of Montvale and Laird of Loch Miller. In one of his last acts, George V had made him a Knight of The Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle. I explained the Order of the Thistle and said I had attended the ceremony and seen the King. Amir had seen photographs of the late King-Emperor. These impressed Amir as being entirely suitable for a great king. I had been most impressed by the Order of the Thistle. I had not realized Angus's intelligence services had been so impressive.
By the time we returned to the camp, Ali had a basic understanding of the problems his clan might face. I am no fool, and I knew that British rule was not universally benign. I also knew that Britain at its worst did not approach the potential danger presented by Hitler and his lackey, Mussolini. Angus had told me that the Kaiser was a pussycat compared to Herr Hitler. My mother not an alarmist, but she was terrified at what might lie ahead.
Back at the library, my translations were progressing well.
My mother had sent me a package. It contained some candy and toiletries as well as salves and medicines useful in the desert. Sand tended to get in everywhere and it could be irritating. It also contained pictures of Angus in his ceremonial dress as an Earl and photographs of him in the Thistle Robes with the King. She included a family picture Angus and me, flanking her. We were wearing formal attire with kilts. She was drenched in jewels.
The candy was rare in the remote desert and exotic. I gave some to Murad for his children. The photographs caused a sensation among the Arabs. The Germans had a picture of Hitler and Mussolini shaking hand in the mess tent. Compared to my brother in his robes and kilt and the King, they were clearly unworthy.
The information I had given to Amir made it way to Murad and then directly to Omar. The clan had to make some major decisions. I assumed they were trying to decide what course of action to take. I was entirely wrong about that. They were trying to decide if they should kill them now or later. When the safety of the clan was at stake, mercy was not an option.
I did not want Otto and Walter to die with the rest of the archeological team. They were pawns, mere window dressing. I needed a plan of my own.
My experience in Mesopotamia suggested that mysterious disappearances, accidents and bandit activity was a preferable way to handle the problem. An outright massacre was too overt and not as effective as the curse of the Pharaohs, and mysterious tribes of brigands. Since the discovery of King Tut's tomb, that sort of thing had been a staple of novels and movies in Europe.
I was not sure how to make that suggestion to Murad when Amir said that Ali wanted to visit the baths. Ali would come with some of his closest associates. He invited me to join them in the baths with some of my friends. He winked at me. I had a good understanding that my friends and I were going to be the entertainment.
I decided to take Ernst, Walter, Schultz and Arturo. I knew they would be up to the sexual demands of the visit, and more importantly, they did not speak Arabic. I could talk to Amir and Omar as we played. I talked to the four men and asked if they were interested. I told them that it might be necessary to submit to the sexual advances of one or more of the men to establish a sense of comradeship. Ernst asked if I had been an event this this. I said yes.
"How many of them used you?" he asked.
"I am a little embarrassed to admit this, but I think there were thirty," I said. "It wasn't wild or frenzied. All the men were pleasant and considerate. They were also hard and had a single objective."
"Was it bad? Did they all climax in you?" he asked.
"I am even more embarrassed to say that they all climaxed in my ass and that I enjoyed it," I said. "I had become a member of the Clan when it was over." I noticed that Arturo and Shultz were erect after listening to me. As I had guessed, they were more excited than shocked by my revelations.
"You must have had sperm dripping from your ass," Schultz said. "It sounds messy."
"Several men liked to lick it up as it drooled from my hole," I said.
"I can't believe anyone would do that," Walter said.
"I can. It might add a special something when you know where it came from and where it has been," Schultz said. "I enjoy it more when a man who has had children provides the cream. You know it is potent!"
"I've fathered six children, all boys," Arturo said.
"I will put you on my list!" Schultz said with a smile. Everyone laughed.
The next day Ali came to my tent with Omar and Murad. Omar wanted him to see the photographs of my brother in highland dress and with the King. Ali asked if I had met the King. I said no, I had seen him but I was in humble position and had never had the honor. That was the right answer. He had seen the photographs. He regarded false humility as correct politeness when dealing with a person of high rank.
We went to the bath. Ali had forty or more men with him and I was a bit worried that my mention of taking thirty cocks in one night might be repeated. Only ten entered the bath. The remainder were guards. There were twenty well-armed German soldiers in a nearby camp. Ali was a careful man.
I did not know if there was a ceremonial aspect to the bath, a ritual cleaning, or it was more informal. I introduced Ali to my four companions. They were naked. They were naked to insure there were no weapons on their bodies. Ali was pleased with the show, and we all then stripped. By then Schultz was semi hard and that was good. Schultz knew how to make friends. Murad had played with me and he knew I was generous. I told him that my companions were equally generous. "I think they would be honored to take the seed of such impressive men," I told him.
We all bathed in the pool and Ali and his companions chose their initial playmates. It was clear that this was a purely recreational sexual event, and was not a ritualized fertility ceremony. Ali picked me, Omar selected Schultz, and Murad took Arturo. I was surprised when one of the older men in Ali's retinue selected Walter.
I knew Walter had played with his Uncle so he had little problem with older men. That man quickly skewered Walter on his long probe, and Walter was squirming in it with obvious enjoyment. He old man was equally obviously pleased as punch.
Ali's cock was both impressive and effective. After the initial burst of pleasure and emotion, I told him of the plot to sow discord to preoccupy the British as the Germans and Italians conquered Egypt. Ali was able to screw me with considerable vigor and carry on a complicated conversation. That was not an accident. Whispered conversations were often a prelude to a plot and thus were suspect.
Whispered conversations between sexually engaged me were not suspect. Women were locked away and protected until they were married. For most young men other men were the sole sexual outlet. The men considered these recreational activities, not sexual. Men could whisper to a sexual playmate without suspicion.
Ali turned me over to another man who was the head of his bodyguards. His cock was thicker and his fucking more aggressive than Ali's was. He was a good listener and understood my plan for mysterious disappearances. The liked the devious nature of the scheme. I think he had three orgasms. He would stop his whispered conversation, gasp for breath, ejaculate and then resume the conversation.
"You need to talk with Osman," he said. "Are you tired? He is not gentle like me." I told him I was fine. He pulled out and then shoved it in again. "This has been beautiful. Could we do this again?" I said I would like that. "You are still tight and quivering. It is beautiful," he said and then his kissed me. He ejaculated a final time. It was not a platonic kiss at all.