Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2007 01:44:31 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: An Atatumbari Ritual
AN ATATUMBARI RITUAL
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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"Lepidoptera Triceratoptera." intoned Professor Fillmore, his large
mustache dancing as he spoke like a spider on his lip.
"I beg your pardon." I said. An American student at Oxford University
is in a delicate position, it doesn't do to antagonize any professor and
practically any student during your residency at the place. I had gained
strides with Professor Fillmore recently and was greasing that relationship
with every bit of lickspittle I had.
"Lepidoptera Triceratoptera." Professor Fillmore said again. "My own
discovery. A glorious specimen, eh what?"
"I should think so." I said diplomatically. "May I see it?" I wasn't
really interested in seeing his 'Triceratops Butterfly' but greasing a
professor's ego never hurt.
"Here's a sketch I made of the specimen." Professor Fillmore said. He
showed me the page from the book, it was filled with his observation data
and such sketches.
I examined the sketch. He had indicated that the major markings were
gold and black. And I assumed that was red feelers it had like miniature
feathers jutting out in front of it. "Very nice." I said. "But isn't that a
moth?" Moths had feathery feelers like that...
You might have thought I suggested that the Church of England rejoin
with Rome, from the reaction I got from the professor.
"A moth? A MOTH!" the professor was truly incensed. "My dear fellow,
the moth can easily be distinguished from this butterfly by any mere
child. The moth has a frenulum while the butterfly, as in this example,
does not." The "frenulum" is a sort of bristle-like structure that hooks
the moth's front and back wings together; butterfly wings are separate
because they don't have one. I had to look that up later, same as you
probably would have if I hadn't explained it to you here.
"I see." I said humbly while I did not.
"The conclusive difference is very obvious." the professor said. "In
addition to the lack of any frenulum, the butterfly has a prominent
proboscis. The moth, which does not eat after it leaves its cocoon, does
not. You will also note the foreshortened abdomen on this specimen; a moth
always has a formidable abdomen for storage of food during its short adult
life cycle."
I was tempted to say, "You have a rather prominent proboscis and
formidable abdomen yourself, professor." but as I was hoping to be taken
with him on his expedition to Africa, I forbore my witticism. "I was taken
by the feathery feelers." I said instead.
"Quite coincidental. Coincidental. Quite." Professor Fillmore began to
settle down again. "Now, the urgency of my expedition is really quite
simple. There was a damnable fire in the Natural History museum last month,
you may have heard of it."
"I did, yes."
"Well, it burned up all three of my specimens of Lepidoptera
Triceratoptera." the Professor said. "This is impossible. Already, some of
my colleagues have dared to cast aspersions upon my discovery for failing
to be allowed to examine the specimens that were lost."
"I can see why." I said. "The wings of your Triceratops Butterfly are
quite...unusual."
"Yes, quite." the Professor harumphed. "A quite unique case of
asymmetrical markings. I had hoped to return to Africa anyway to find more
specimens in an attempt to explain this remarkable discovery." The
"asymmetrical markings" the Professor mentioned were that while the
butterfly's left wing in his sketch bore a single black horn-like
decoration from its body out to two-thirds the way out the primary wing,
the right wing had two horn-like decorations of equal length, though
neither as long as the one on the left side. The entire right wing was a
bit smaller and a slightly different shap, as well. It was like you had one
wing from one butterfly and the other from another butterfly
entirely. Small wonder there had been questions about his specimens! I said
as much, about the wings looking like they were from different butterflies,
that is.
"That's just what that blighter from Camden has dared to intimate."
Professor Fillmore said. "I have invited him with me on the expedition so
that I can show him a specimen freshly caught, or better yet, on the wing."
"Will I be permitted to attend as well?" I asked cautiously. "You know
my own desire is to become a zoologist and this expedition of yours...."
"Of course, of course." the Professor said. "Quite. Yes. Wouldn't go
without you, in fact. Must have a young chap along. Quite."
"Very good sir." I decided to quit while I was ahead.
"Yes, you should make ready at once, for we sail for the mouth of the
Mikonapopolo River on the first of the month!"
"Jolly good, Professor!" I said, exuberant as you can well imagine.
The trip was as difficult as you can imagine, taking place in December
as it did. But we were heading for the equator, and weather would simply
cease to be a problem once we got far enough south. Still, I spent the
first two weeks mostly in my cabin, suffering a hideous bout of mal de mar,
and when I got up, the feud between Professor Fillmore and Professor
Bigsworth was well underway.
For example, Professor Bigsworth fancied himself a sportsman and was
taking along a rather impressive array of artillery. His intended purpose
in this as he stated it ad nauseum at every meal was that he didn't want to
waste the entire trip chasing Professor Fillmore's fictitious butterfly,
but would instead spend his days more profitably involved in hunting such
game as he could, both for the pot, and for taxidermists to preserve for
decorations about his estate.
So it was a pretty grotty trip and I was relieved when we left the
steamship and embarked upon a smaller vessel up the Mikonapopolo River
toward the territory of the Triceratops Butterfly.
Professor Bigsworth was appalled to learn that he could not retain any
bearers to ferry his arsenal into the area we were heading for, and he
sufficed by carrying a single shotgun for his use on the trip. He muttered
about taking a side-trip to Tanganyika when we were back from our unicorn
hunt. For myself, I learned that the expedition would be only the three of
us. This didn't daunt the professor, but then, he had me to carry an
exceptionally heavy pack for the journey. I realized that this was why he
said he couldn't go with me, he had been here before, after all!
So I was sweating my way through the jungle while Professor Bigsworth
plied a machete to our route and Professor Fillmore spent his time
sketching in his book and capturing several nice specimens of butterflies
for his collection. Me, I spent my spare time heaving for breath and
drinking water to replace what I'd sweated away on the trek.
After a week of this, I heard the Professor exclaim. "Ah, there they
are!"
Finally, I heaved a sigh. "What is it?" I asked, hurrying
forward. "The butterflies?"
"No." the Professor pointed out. "The Atatumbari."
"Atatumbari?" I said quizzically, then I saw them. "Natives!" I
exclaimed.
Solemn and spear-bearing, they came toward us. Professor Bigsworth
said, "Should I pot a couple of them and scare them off?"
"No, no, no need for that." Professor Fillmore said. "They have some
odd rituals, but are friendly enough once they are done."
"What kind of rituals are those?" I asked. "Will we be allowed to
watch?"
"Watch?" Professor Fillmore said. "Why, my dear boy, you will be
joining their ritual. Quite. Yes. Quite."
"Me?" I said in a small, panicked voice. There were a half dozen of
them, all men in their twenties and thirties, a hunting party, perhaps.
"You didn't mention that in our planning for the expedition."
Professor Bigsworth said to Professor Fillmore.
"A minor technicality." Professor Fillmore said. "Once they finish
with young Beckett here, they'll be as chummy as you could wish."
"Finish with me?" I dropped the heavy pack, though whether to greet
the natives or run like hell, I really couldn't tell you even now.
"Now, now, dear boy, don't interrupt me. Must make sure I enunciate
properly. Arumph, uhmph!" he cleared his throat.
The leader of this group declared a statement, the professor gave a
response, whereupon the leader stamped his spear butt on the ground and
made a demand. And the professor then indicated me! I did my best to look
dignified and pleasant, all I could figure out to do.
The leader looked at me, spoke to his men, they answered, and the
professor said, "Ah, jolly good, they agree to accept you."
"They do?" I said. "Accept me for what?" I looked at their leader, a
hugely muscled dark brown man with burly arms and big, strong-fingered
hands. He wore only a piece of blue cloth about his waist, and I stared to
see that below it, I could just see the head of his dong! That thing must
be huge when it's hard! I thought.
"You'll see, cooperate with them, be a good chap."
"I say, they aren't going to hurt young Beckett, are they?" Professor
Bigsworth asked.
"Yeah, are they?" I wanted to know.
"Everything will be fine if you will just play along with them."
Professor Fillmore said. "Now, go over to him, that's a good fellow."
I went dubiously. And was pretty much grabbed by the leader. What was
he doing?
"Professor?" I said. "He's trying to have my trousers off."
"Yes, yes, part of the ritual, eh, what." was Professor Fillmore's
response.
"Oh." I said. My knickers followed my trousers, and I was soon bare
from the waist down to my ankles. I covered my nakedness with my hands as
best I could.
"You'll need to take your pantaloons and boots entirely off."
Professor Fillmore advised.
"You're certain they're friendly?" I asked.
"Oh, very friendly. Just their ritual, now be a good chap."
"Be a good chap." I muttered as I fought my boots free in the middle
of the jungles of Africa. "Yowch!" I had just been stung on my buttock by
what felt like a sizeable mosquito. I swiped at it and stood up and that
caused me to topple over onto my face. Before I could get up, I felt a
strong hand at the small of my back and hands pulling my pants and
remaining boot from my body.
"Professor, he's holding me down."
"Yes, yes, quite." Professor Fillmore said.
"Part of the ritual?" Professor Bigsworth asked.
"Yes, quite."
I regarded the leaves strewn on the jungle floor as I was held in my
place, on my knees and on my chest, unable to lift myself on my arms due to
that hand on my back
"Now what the devil is he doing?" asked Bigsworth.
"Preparing himself for the ritual." Fillmore answered.
"Oh, my word! How disgusting!"
"Primitive people, you know."
"Yes, quite, but my word." Bigsworth said. "You really feel young
Beckett should go through with this ritual?"
"It's the only way to get to the territory of the Triceratops
Butterfly." Fillmore said. "We must go through the lands of the
Atatumbari."
"I say!" Bigsworth said. "I think he's about to do it."
"Do what?" I wanted to know. And that's when I felt it! A thick hard
cockhead pressing at my anus! "What? What?" I babbled. "What's this?
AH-GURRRRRGGHHH!" That last was my gurgling moan when that huge pud shoved
itself into me.
"Oh, my word!" Bigsworth said. "That's not a very nice thing for him
to do!"
No shit, Sherlock! I thought. What I said was "AH-GUGHHH-HUHHH-GUHHH!"
as three more shoves sent that huge prong deeper and deeper into me.
"My word, I do believe he has buried himself inside poor Beckett's
bunghole!" Bigsworth pointed out.
"Ah, good!" Fillmore said. "Now the ritual can begin in earnest."
"Begin?" I whimpered.
"Yes, first the leader of this hunting party will give young Beckett a
truly hard pounding. Notice how he's rising up on the balls of his feet so
he can gain a better leverage. Ah, now, there he goes. Notice how vigorous
and rapidly he fucks Beckett's ass!"
"AH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-UH-HUH!" I groaned as I was shaken by the
intensity of the thrusts.
This leader is showing his mastery of the situation as well as
demonstrating his virility. Fertility is such an important thing among the
more primitive cultures, you understand."
"Ah, yes, quite." Bigsworth agreed. "Still, it does seem a bit rough
on young Beckett here."
"You're...uh!...telling...me!" I got out as I was rocked back and
forth. My God, I was being rammed like a piledriver was pounding a piling
into my butt! I struggled up onto my hands and knees, but with those
massive hands at my waist, I wasn't going anywhere.
"What are those other natives doing now?" Bigsworth commented.
I looked up. One of them was fondling his hard cock, which he had
lifted from under his wrapping, watching me being fucked by his chieftain
or whoever the hell had his cock up my ass. The others were watching
intently, hands on their still-covered cocks. They were murmuring to each
other in liquid syllables of a tongue I had never heard spoken before.
"Why, I believe they are trying to decide which of them gets to use
young Beckett next."
"Next?" I whimpered.
"Are they all going to have a go at the chap, then?" Bigsworth asked.
"Oh, indubitably." Fillmore said. "The sharing of assets is a
fundamental rule among the hunter-gatherer tribes around the world, you
know. What one has, they all have."
I was going to be gang-banged here? My God! I already felt tender from
the one still-pounding dong in my butt! I licked my lips, and the one with
his cock out stepped a bit closer.
"Ah, I believe young Beckett is going to help ready the next one."
Fillmore opined
"Really?" Bigsworth said. "How revolting!"
"Oh, but it will do a great deal toward making us accepted among the
Atatumbari." Fillmore said. "Beckett, my lad, be a good fellow and help
that one out, will you, there's a good chap!"
"Good chap!" I muttered. "Hell, if I gotta take this thing, I want it
greased up but good!" The second native's prong was within my reach and
that's what I did, I rose up slightly, the leader's hands making me sway my
low back into an arc to do it, and I caught hold of that hard cock and the
native stepped forward and I stuffed that prod into my mouth!
"Yes, now, he's really getting into it." Fillmore said. "We'll be
welcomed by the Atatumbari for sure with a greeting ritual like this going
for us!"
I tasted a quite-clean dong (most African tribes are as fastidious as
Americans about frequent and daily baths, not a problem in the water-laden
tropics) and I sucked on it and that's when two more natives stepped up to
either side and knelt beside me. I took a pud in each hand, and soon I was
going from cock to cock and back again.
The leader finished up with a roar of triumph and I got a hot load of
African jizz right up my kiester, and then Number Two was ready for the
races. I took the brief opportunity the break afforded to roll onto my back
and raised my legs, this let me take the two kneeling natives in my hands
and a fourth, who knelt down by my head, fed me his cock while the second
native shoved his lubed-up schlong right into my butt. I felt the hot jizz
of the first native's squim squelch and blurp around the shaft of the
second native's cock, and that just seemed to excite Number Two more.
A cock in my ass, a cock in my mouth and two more, one in each hand,
plus two more waving in the background waiting for their chance! I groaned
and I felt my cock rise up hard as a sonofabitch!
"My word, is Beckett actually enjoying himself?" Bigsworth stared at
my prod.
"It's not an uncommon thing, you know." Fillmore said. "One must
expect this sort of thing when a young man is taken in this way. I daresay
he'll be a butt-rammer from now on. The price you pay for discovery, you
know. It was a high price, but one I was willing to pay."
He was willing to pay! I was the one paying it, with my butt and my
mouth and my hands! I would have told him off, but it's kind of hard to
talk with your mouth full.
Number Two finished up and I got a second hot load of jizz into my
butt, and he pulled out, and I expected Number Three (the guy I'd been
sucking now, the two kneelers were Numbers Four and Five, while Six and
Seven waited their turn) to take his place, but instead, Four and Five
lifted me up by my arms and I was carried/dragged a few steps, and then I
found myself being lowered onto a sitting Number Three's cock. He was
sitting on a stump or something (I couldn't tell, it was covered with vines
and leaves and such, could have been anything, and I ended up squatting on
him and I got the message and began to bounce up and down on his prick.
"Ah, yes, the highest honor!" Fillmore said. "Saw this on my last
trip, when the young man offered for the ritual becomes the active mover,
the one he is, er, moving upon is honored."
"Seems to me the blighter is just lazy." Bigsworth opined.
"Not at all." Fillmore said. "He has gained in honor here. If Beckett
can bring him to his finish in this manner, the leader will be hard-pressed
not to have to give way to this new one."
I was presented with Number Four's cock to suck, and began to milk
it. These natives wanted to fuck an American, well, by God, I'll give them
more than they were expecting, by God. I'd ride every last one of these
fuckers, then let them fight it out for who was Top Dong of the Atatumbari!
I did finish off Number Three like that, but wasn't permitted a chance
to do that for the others, instead, I was instead pushed back down and I
was on my knees again, being fucked doggie-style by Number Four while
Number Five got himself slicked up. Numbers Six and Seven presented
themselves for their handjobs and I ended up with a well-fucked ass as they
all took their turns, first to be lubed up by my mouth, then they each
fucked me lustily and hard until they squirted in my ass. Toward the end, I
was having geysers of come squirting out of my butt when they did that,
there was no more room inside me and it had to fly out, and it did, and
that was a source of marvel and amusement for the Atatumbari. Professors
Fillmore and Bigsworth were suitably disgusted, apparently a good Britisher
would have managed to hold it all in or something!
All I know is that when I finished with Number Seven, I got Number One
all over again, this time he laid me on my back and he loved me quite
gently. If he had done that the first time, I thought as I watched his
face, I would have thought a lot more kindly about him. As it was, he
worked my ravaged butt in a way and with a style that had me groaning and I
ended up squirting my load right up onto his chest, and when I did, he
grinned and pulled out again, not coming, apparently his intent had been
solely to make me come that final time.
"And now the ritual is complete." Fillmore put in as I gathered my
clothes and what scraps of dignity I could manage. The Atatumbari went back
to the jungle, to their village or to hunt or whatever they were doing. "We
now have the right of passage upon Atatumbari territory."
"So what was I, your ticket?" I said, more than a little offended
here.
"Oh, come now, one must expect these little surprises when one
journeys in the darker lands of Africa." Professor Fillmore said. "I know
tribes that would have killed you and rendered you down for their
stewpot. I think an afternoon's dalliance wasn't such a high price to pay."
"So says you." I said. "I'm just glad it's all over with."
"Yes, so it is." Professor Fillmore said. "Until the next time, at any
rate."
"Next time?" Bigsworth asked.
"Next time?" Mine was more a screech of anguish.
"Oh, yes, as long as we're on Atatumbari territory, they'll send out
little expeditions from time to time, to check on our progress and renew
the ritual."
"You mean I'm going to be gang-fucked as long as we're in Africa?" I
shrieked.
"I say, that's rather hard on young Beckett, you know." Bigsworth put
in. "Not quite cricket, and all that."
"Yeah!" I agreed heartily.
"Don't you think we should try to make other arrangements for the
Atatumbari while we're here?" Bigsworth said.
"I don't know what you're on about." Professor Fillmore said. "Young
Beckett is perfect for the job. It's why I wanted him on the expedition to
begin with."
"Why me?" I demanded to know.
"Why Beckett?" Bigsworth asked.
Professor Fillmore said. "Choosing one of the other students would
have been sacrificing part of the flower of the British aristocracy. Young
Beckett here is only an American."
"Ah, yes, quite right." Bigsworth said.
"Only an American?" I said, dumbfounded.
"Better him than one of our own, you know." Fillmore said.
"Quite right." Bigsworth and Fillmore were heading on down the path.
"Think we could get some of them to act as bearers if we gave them
Beckett at night for their fun?"
"They might well, we must try to ask them when they come back again,
probably tomorrow, a new offering is always very popular among them as you
can well imagine, they'll be regular visitors for a while."
"Oh, then, jolly good, I can get one of them to be my guide while I go
hunting." Professor Bigsworth said.
"And goodness knows I'll never find my beloved Lepidoptera
Triceratoptera without their help." Professor Fillmore agreed. "Young
Beckett can keep my helpers happy while they help me track down a dozen or
more good specimens. Can't lose them in a fire again like last time, you,
now.
"Oh, yes, quite."
"Oh, now, Professor...." I went after them; they were quite a ways
into the jungle now.
Professor Fillmore looked back. "The pack, boy, bring the pack with
you. We have two more days to travel, then we can make camp."
I went back for the pack, shouldered the monstrous burden, the weight
making my sore ass whimper and more jizz leak out into my pants. I had to
catch up to them before they'd hear me. I was going to argue all I
could. But I figured from the start I was going to lose.
And I did.
THE END
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