Chapter 14
The Tenochca – Impersonator

Now the ixiptla, the Impersonator of Xochipilli, Nico turns 18 and engages in various sacrificial and religious ceremonies, partakes in daisy chains, snowballing and sound docking, and learns more about the Aztecs and their neighbours in talks with boy prostitutes, traders, and musicians. As Impersonator he tours the Tenocha empire and meets the emperor.

Characters: Impersonators of the gods Centeotl, Tlaloc, Tezcatlipoca (21yo), Huitzilopochtli, Mixcoatl, and Tlacahuepan; 10yo altar boy, 9yo new moon prayer boy; four 15yo novices to be; 16yo son of noble, 18yo silver miner; flute player and poet, Emperor Ahuitzotl (mid to late 30's); Ozomatli and Cuacualti, Nico (18yo)

And so I began the third month of the Tenochca, the month of Tocoztontli, as the Impersonator of the god Xochipilli. There was of course a hierarchy among the gods and this was duplicated with the Impersonators, but even the lowest Impersonator was higher in power than the Emperor and each month one or more of the gods had prominence and that god, and his or her Impersonator, superceded all others for that month. Because he represented many aspects of everyday life of the common man, Xochipilli was a popular god, highly regarded and worshipped by much of the population, and as ixiptla so was I. Because as a fertility god he was associated with several of the higher gods in the Tenochca hierarchy, his ixiptla was often included in their ceremonies, though not expected to take part, which was fine with me considering the bloodthirsty nature of most of the other gods.

The role of ixiptla was a complicated one. I was Xochipilli's eyes and ears, witnessing the oblations of his priests and followers and the supplications of his faithful and reporting to him their worthiness and pleas. As ixiptla, I was Xochipilli's lips and tongue, conveying to his priests and to his worshippers his pleasure and his displeasure, his blessing and his punishment. My role required I be in direct communication with him regularly so I spent most of my time in meditation and in trances during which I reported to him and received his instructions. Many days went by of which I could remember nothing.

As ixiptla, I was Xochipilli here on earth, and treated as he would be if he deigned to make an appearance, receiving the same adulation as he, the same privileges, and the same comforts. As the god of music and dance I was entertained by a host of musicians, poets and dancers and often joined them myself, and as the god of sensuousness I could have whomever I wanted for another entertainment, and they were all young, virile and beautiful and willing. As the Prince of Flowers I was constantly surrounded by flowers and their rich perfumes, and by butterflies which fed on the nectar and constantly fluttered about my head. It was easy to see why an individual would be enraptured with such a position, and would come to view himself as the god himself. It was an esteemed position of sensual delights.

There are twenty districts making up the royal city and each district has its own government and its own temples, and there are dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of other centres across the empire with temples to Xochipilli. At first I saw my position as not that different from that of the Pope of Rome, and at first that was how I conducted myself. As the successor of Saint Peter the Holy Father is responsible for the leadership of Christ's Church and its operation. It is dependent upon him to see that his priests perform their duties according to God's law, and that others, kings and nobles of other countries, Christian and otherwise, respect and recognize the authority of the Church of Rome.

So it was that I was responsible for seeing that my priests performed their duties, and that others, particularly the nobles and the priests of the other gods recognized the authority of Xochipilli and his importance in their lives. I concluded that it had to have been God who had been answering my prayers these past three months, and this had to have been his goal for me. As unquestionable head of the church, I was in excellent position to begin introducing Christian beliefs and practices, to begin the conversion of the church and its faithful. It was a tremendous responsibility and I understood for the first time the heavy responsibility and tremendous stress placed on the Holy Father. And so I began discussions with my senior priests, discussing visions I supposedly had, visions of a single, all-powerful god and his son, planting the seeds of Christianity.

As the days progressed, I began to realize that my position was even more than that, that the position of ixiptla was even higher than the position of pope, higher than the highest position in the Holy Catholic Church! I talked directly to God, in this case Xochipilli, and I delivered his word and will on Earth. I was all powerful, and when I spoke people fell to their knees in awe and in fear of me. I began seeking opportunities to insert Christian practices, one of the first elevating the worship of the cross. That was easy, for the cross was seen as a symbol of fertility and Xochipilli was a fertility god. In time, slowly, I would introduce the concept of the cross as a symbol of Christ, and given their practice of sacrifice, that would not be difficult.

Each morning I rose with new ideas of changes and each night I went to bed well pleased with my success. Mine was a powerful position, one that I saw now could easily seduce the one holding it and take control of him so he lost all concept and memory of his self. Spending much of my day in a drug-induced state or recovering from it and trying to divine the meaning of my visions, and convinced of God's divine mission for me, I felt the person who had been Nico Ribeiro fading away, which some days I felt was well and just, and other days caused me great dismay and greatly frightened me. Was this what it had been like for early Christian martyrs?

Four days after assuming my new position, I found myself standing on the platform at the Great Temple at Tenochtitlán alongside the ixiptla of Centeotl, the God of Maize, in that the two of us were responsible for the fertility of the land and this was the month for the planting of maize seed. The ixiptla of Centeotl was a virile young man, nineteen, his trim, muscular body painted yellow from head to toe with a black line extending from his eyebrows through his cheek and ending at his jaw line. He wore a headdress composed of leaves and ears of maize, the plant that is a stable throughout most of the lands I have travelled through, a loincloth with symbols I was not acquainted with, and a flowing robe. He was, I learned, formerly the third and youngest son of a local farmer before being selected as an Impersonator. That had been in the fall of the previous year so he had considerable experience in his role, and he took it most sincerely and devoutly to the extent to which I was uncertain if he even remembered having a former life. Such was the power of being an ixiptla!

Having only four days experience, needless to say I was most apprehensive, wishing to perform well and make a good impression, but also most eager to talk to him so as to learn from his experience and knowledge. So, dressed in my feather headdress, body armour imbedded with snake teeth, and wearing my Cross of Saint Christopher and mother of pearl pendant about my neck and jade pendants in my ears, I stood there watching his every move for this ceremony was before his altar and held for him. Observing his reaction to the ceremony we were witnessing, I received my first indication of his total immersion in his role as an Impersonator. His priests carried squalling babies, infants still unable to walk upright, up the steep stone steps of the Great Temple and I was most curious what role these infants might play.

One by one the babies were placed on the sacrificial stone and to my surprise and horror their abdomens were slashed open with the black obsidian knife, splattering their hot, innocent blood on the altar and their executioner, and their tiny hearts were raised to the ixiptla as the living representative of Centeotl. He smiled and raised his hands in thanks as the stench of death mingled with that of blood and excrement and urine, for in their death cries the babies defecated and released their bladders as their tiny hearts beat their last and their rich red blood ran down the arms of their executioner. From the gratitude in his eyes and the smile on his lips he might as well have been offered a basket of gold or the finest spices and incense from the east. Try as I could I could not block out the little ones' cries of terror and pain, being much too young to be able to comprehend the beliefs that were the cause of their cruel and violent deaths.

Numbed by the horror and the violence despite all the horror and violence I have seen in this Empire of demons, I stared out at the cheering crowds. I could not fathom their beliefs no matter how hard I tried to understand them. The blood lust of these people affected all, men and women, adults and children alike. As little babies went to their squalling death, the populace watched and cheered and ate stuffed tamales and drank sweet fruit juices as if attending a festive party, and in many ways it was. After the sacrifices, the Impersonator and I retired to one of the rooms in back of the altars where servants brought us chilled octli and bowls of fresh fruits and nuts and hot chilli pepper sauce and a platter of freshly baked tortillas, and we talked, or mostly he talked, of the glory of the Tenochca Empire and the latest news of the success of the armies in extending the empire to the north, of the coming rain and good weather his priests were forecasting, of the beneficence of Centeotl and the sweetness of the squash we were eating. I left, sickened and perplexed and that night I again prayed to my God for guidance.

During this month children engaged in bloodletting at their homes, using the sharp thorns of the maguey plant to pierce their ears and bleeding on strips of a form of paper made from shredded bark which were then offered to the gods by burning them before their altars. So it was that children, boys and girls alike, were introduced to this life of sacrifice and worship of blood. It was no wonder they were obsessed by the time they were adults and saw no wrong in their actions. How was I to counter such savagery and ignorance?

On the tenth day of the month young, bare-breasted maidens carried ears of maize through the city streets to the fields where they danced for us, the Impersonators of Centeotl, Xochipilli, and Tlaloc, the god of rain, thunder and earthquakes, another handsome, well-built nineteen-year-old youth, selected from the priesthood and wearing a mask with goggle eyes and fangs, a heron feather headdress, and carrying a corn stalk. I played my panpipe and the other two played their flutes as we marched through the city and then the fields and we finally sat on a raised platform surrounded by a thousand worshippers while dancing below us, the maidens held up the ears of corn and swayed suggestively as if having congress with an invisible mate before symbolically planting seeds of the maize in the furrowed ground. I could not help but notice the loincloths of the ixiptla of Centeotl and Tlaloc were bulging by the end of the dance, and what was underneath were not ears of corn though they appeared as large. We feasted on roast duck, tamales stuffed with hot chiles and napal, the sweet, succulent fruit of the prickly pear cactus, and drank chilled octli, and we three young men discussed the weather and hopes for rain, the latest news of another flower war in progress, scandalous gossip about the Emperor's family and palace plots, my panpipe, which they had never heard before, and the breasts and curvaceous thighs of the maidens that afternoon. I suspected that more than one of the maidens found their way into the beds of the two Impersonators that night. None approached mine, Xochipilli not being so inclined for the pleasures of the female flesh.

A large part of my role was to meet and talk to my worshippers. There were, throughout the city, young men who brought pleasure to other men for pay, either trade or cocoa beans, and who came to me seeking my blessing for their trade and their health. Like prostitutes everywhere they learned many things from their customers and knew many secrets, and I took the opportunity to draw their information out, learning who had the real power in the government, who had weaknesses that might be exploited, and the activities and plans of the rich and powerful that might be of benefit. I had observed such games being played by the Cardinals while I was at the Vatican, and I knew it was necessary if I was to have any impact on the lives of these savages.

I also knew the life of these boys for pay for I had once been one of them, in another life, and they quickly recognized that difference from past Impersonators and became even more endeared to me, opening up even deeper secrets and going forth to praise me to their fellow whores and to the customers whom they serviced, which brought in more worshippers and more offerings of quails, flowers, and feathers, sacred mushrooms, food and gold and precious gems, which did not go unnoticed by the head priest and his assistants, adding to my growing esteem. Of course I also took the opportunity to seek the services of these boys themselves, especially the youngest of them, and I taught them new tricks, and they taught me practices of their own which I had not been aware of. Life was very good as I tried in all sincerity to fulfill the mission placed upon me by my Christian God.

There were also traders, musicians and poets who travelled throughout the Empire and who preferred the company of men and who also brought offerings to the Temple of Xochipilli, and these too I was sure to draw aside and speak with, learning much about the surrounding terrain, the climate of this land, and the temperament of the citizens of the Empire, those who were conquered long ago, and those newly defeated. Word of my preference for young boys spread and often included in the gifts to the temple were young, attractive slaves, and as ixiptla I had my pick of the choicest. All who came I took aside and engaged in conversation, beginning with the blessing of Xochipilli and hearing of their pleas but ending with discussions of a more corporeal and practical nature, and for the young and especially attractive, concluding in my bedchambers. This increased attention that I paid our worshippers was of course noticed by my fellow priests and they were impressed with my devout attention to my duties as Impersonator. It also brought further offerings, much to their delight and which impressed them even more.

And so through these means, I learned much about this land and the people who inhabit it, some which I suspected, some which was a surprise, and some which obviously had to be misinformation or fanciful tales of old wives. One such piece of information that came as a surprise and I found most difficult to believe, was that this great empire was bordered on both the west and the east sides by the Great Ocean Sea, which meant much to my dismay, that if this was true, this was not the land of the Great Khan but an island, though a larger island than any I have ever heard of, and one which no explorer had ever mentioned before. Much of the information about the scattered tribes to the north I knew and my supplicants confirmed they marked the northern end of the Empire, and I learned that to the south was another large but less powerful kingdom. Much of what I was told about them was that they were a decadent, superstitious tribe of sodomites and self-abusers and the consumers of dung. None I spoke to knew of the Arab heathens or Mongol barbarians, or of Allah, or of the wonders of the spice lands described by Marco Polo.

Another ritual associated with the planting of corn was performed a week after the dance of the corn maidens. My morning meal, a platter of quail eggs and cornbread, an event that normally occurred in midmorning after four hours of meditation and oblations to Xochipilli, was followed by the ritual purification in the steam bath and the consumption of large quantities of maca, chiapas, and xocolatl. Dressed in my ceremonial robes and feather headdress and my body painted as Xochipilli, I joined my fellow priests in prayers to the Prince of Flowers. I was feeling quite bloated after consuming three large jugs of liquid, but by the end of the rituals that feeling was replaced by one of tenseness, jittery energy and loin-aching lust. Following my priests through the crowded streets, the people parting respectfully to let us pass or reaching out for my blessing, we made our way north to the fields surrounding the city. Approaching from the west and the east were the Impersonators of the god Tlaloc and the god Centeotl along with their retinue of priests.

Surrounded by our priests who chanted and drummed and prayed for rain, we danced, a complex sequence of steps with arcane gestures that had taken me several days to memorize, and slowly we removed our headdresses and ceremonial robes, revealing our heavily painted and tattooed bodies. The yellow body of the Impersonator of Centeotl, the dusky red-brown body of the Impersonator of Tlaloc, and my pale skin with its blue and multicolored tattoos contrasted with each other as we gyrated, crouched and leapt to the rhythm of drum and flute. Becoming caught up in the music and remembering the more pleasant parts of my life as a kocek with the Gilman Entertainers, I twisted my body sinuously and ran my fingers over my body seductively, caressing my chest and the inside of my thighs as I looked out through half-lidded eyes, introducing moves into the dance spontaneously. (1)

I knew these were not the ritual moves I had been taught and would come as a surprise to the senior priests, but I was the ixiptla of Xochipilli and could do what I wanted, and from the reaction of the other two Impersonators, I both surprised them and ignited their passions, causing me to accent my moves all the more. The ixiptla of Centeotl was, I was certain by then having had several conversations with him, interested only in the opposite sex, but he was male, and young and virile so not that difficult to arouse. The ixiptla of Tlaloc I did not know well at the time, but I did get to know him as our paths crossed more and more frequently and from our conversations and the looks he gave me when he thought I was not looking I got the impression that he was equally comfortable with both sexes, something that appears to be much more common among these people than any others I have met, and especially back in Portugal, likely, I suspect, the result of the spicy foods that they eat here that inflame the tongue and burn all the way down to the stomach and continue on to ignite the lust in one's loins. Some of these spices they call chiles are so hot as to burn the tongue and bring tears to the eyes. Their seeds I have collected in the faint hope that I might yet find my way home and grow them on my estate.

As our passions rose so did our members and our dancing became more suggestive and erotic. We began dancing separately and then we wove in and out and around each other, moving in closer and closer until we were caressing not just ourselves but each other. As I have said, the other two Impersonators were young and trim with muscular chests and rippling abdomens and firm, compact buttocks. Running my fingers over their painted bodies and seeing their members rising with arousal, for they were both young and virile, quickened my own arousal. We were all well hung with large, pendulous balls and long, thick members, which I began to wonder was a requirement for being chosen an Impersonator. Being the only one without a hood the other two eyed my cock curiously and I thrust my hips out, inviting them to do more than look. That they did, and as they grasped my member and squeezed it and cupped my sweating balls and rolled them, I grasped their stiff members and delighted in the strength and power I felt. Although what ignites my humours are boys half my age, congress with young men my age is not an unpleasant thing.

At last the three of us lay down in a circle upon a raised platform, Centeotl reaching over and taking Tlaloc's long, erect cock in his hand and going down on it. Tlaloc, still wearing his mask but nothing else, reached out and grasping my member at the base, bent over to take it in his mouth as I completed the circle and went down on Centeotl. I do not know what his body was painted with, but his cock had the taste of lemon. And so we sucked on each other's member, our desires high and our blood pulsating there in the hot afternoon sun, at first conscious of the circle of priests watching us and then as our lusts grew forgetting our audience and concentrating on the delight of being sucked and, at least for me, the delight of having a throbbing cock between my lips.

The temperatures had been climbing each day and on this day, beneath the cloudless sky, the day was hotter than the hottest day I have ever experienced in my dear homeland. Sweat was soon beading on all our foreheads and trickling down our painted and tattooed skin. I applied all my techniques that I knew to bring Centeotl pleasure and to prolong our act, and I discovered that Tlaloc knew the same tricks as he tongued the underside of my cock to arouse me and then clamped his lips just below my bulb to cut off my ejaculation, furthering my suspicion that he was at least as comfortable with men as he was with women and could easily prefer the former. He was at least not a novice at bringing pleasure to a man and being pleased by one.

And so we sucked and were sucked, approaching that peak and causing our partner to do so also and then cutting off his lust as ours was similarly cut, each time coming to that peak sooner and sooner until we could no longer hold back and filled each other's mouth with our semen. I came voluminously, filling Centeotl's mouth with my hot, thick slime, and Tlaloc came just as violently and copiously, filling my mouth as Centeotl filled his. We continued to suck, draining each other's stones. I then lay upon my back, as I had been told, and Centeotl twisted around and bent over me. As he parted his lips, I opened my mouth and he drooled Tlaloc's slime, mixed with his spittle, into my mouth. As he straightened up, Tlaloc took his place and parting his lips as he bent over me, he slowly added my own slime and his spittle to join his and that of Centeotl. My mouth filled and my cheeks now puffed out with the slime from the three of us, I slowly and carefully sat up and twisted around as Centeotl lay on his back and opened his mouth and I drooled my mouth of slime and spittle into his mouth and he in turn passed our mixture of spittle and slime to Tlaloc.

Centeotl and I finally sat up and faced each other and Tlaloc slowly drooled the slimy, bubbly, mixture over our heads, the Rain God watering the two gods of Maize. The warm slime, a mixture of thick, creamy seed and bubbly spittle, oozed through our hair and down over our cheeks, on down our necks and our bodies, rivulets of seed and spittle running down our smooth chests and down our backs, following the curvature of our sweat-slick bodies, down over our flat, heaving stomachs, forming globs in our dense pubic hairs and oozing over our hips to puddle about our buttocks. Our cocks were still erect and aching and so aroused were we by this perverse shower the three of us spurted simultaneously, our throbbing cocks squirting out our hot, fresh seed, Centeotl and I spattering each other with our slime and Tlaloc spraying both of us. As I sat there in the blazing sun I felt filthy but satiated and for a brief second the possibility that I was not in the service of God but in service of Satan flashed through my mind.

The first day of the fourth month, Huey Tocoztli, coincided with my eighteenth birthday, April 14. It being the custom of these people to refrain from any business or activity on the first day of the month, I had the day alone and spent most of it with mixed emotions. The fulfilment of my sexual lust was beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and certainly something that would never be possible in my homeland, and I confess, in my weakness and sinfulness, I wallowed in my own seed and that of others happy as a pig wallowing in shit. My mission to introduce aspects of my Christian faith was progressing, many priests now wearing the cross about their necks and praying to it, though admittedly not yet to Christ, and I had begun discussions on the existence of one all-seeing, all-powerful god, and given the absorption of the gods of so many tribes, these Tenochca were most receptive to my ideas, as I had suspected. Conversely, the significance of the day brought home to me the fact that I would likely never see my home and family again despite my blind faith and hope and that was most depressing, and noticing my foul mood everyone avoided me. That the sky was black with the commencement of the new moon was fitting.

Two days later the first sliver of the new moon appeared and again I participated in the ceremony of the new moon, now however as ixiptla. As I sat there on my pedestal and watched the proceedings, the sight of these beautiful, flawless boys dancing and singing before me caused my member to swell and rise. I wondered if those boys who noticed thought my arousal was the result of their faithfulness and devout adulation and what they would think if they knew the truth about me. I watched the guard standing rigidly at the entrance and thought of our congress but he stared straight ahead oblivious of my attention. I sought out his younger brother and thought of my congress with him and I wondered if he noticed who I was under the paint and robes of my position but he too was focussed on his dancing and singing and gave no indication of any recognition. I noticed that the boy who lit the ceremonial fire and prayed to Xochipilli was a different boy this night and as his sweet voice called upon me for my blessing and as I gazed upon that innocent face and dark eyes afire with belief and innocent faith I sighed with my building lust, and guilt and disgust filled my heart as desire filled my rigid member.

It was the latter, the boy who lit the ceremonial fire and offered up the prayers to Xochipilli, who joined me after the ceremony for he was the purest and most perfect of the thirteen sons and only the purest and the best were reserved for Xochipilli, and his Divine Impersonator. We retired to my room where we disrobed and stood facing each other in the candlelight. Unlike the previous times after the new moon ceremony, my young partner did not take the initiative and instead stood there and waited for me. Having had congress with many boy children, I sensed his nervousness and uncertainty and I saw in his eyes the hope that he would not disappoint. I stepped forward and took his hands in mine, those small, hot little hands, and I looked into his eyes filled with apprehension, hope, awe, and unwavering belief.

I drew him close to me and I kissed him gently on the mouth, His lips were soft, soft as rose petals, and his breath sweet, not honey-sweet nor from any other herbs or spices, but with the natural sweetness of a fresh, innocent, young boy. He returned my kiss, hesitantly and uncertainly, and I kissed him again, more forcefully and he again returned my kiss in like. I slipped my tongue between those rosy, satin lips and into his mouth, sliding it along his tongue, exploring the inside of his mouth, his gums and cheek. My stiff cock wagged with impatience and my loins ached. As we separated, I glanced down and noticed his member had begun to swell. I ran my fingers over his small, compact buttocks and followed the curves of his body up to the boney shoulder blades protruding from his back like pubescent angel wings. I ran my fingers along his sides to his smooth, hairless chest still soft and rounded, his muscles undefined. I estimated him to be eight or nine years of age. His breath shuddered with nervousness as he inhaled, and he trembled like an aspen leaf in the wind as I ran my fingers over his pert little nipples.

I kissed him again and then nibbled on his smooth, downy cheeks and on his earlobe. It was pierced and had a tiny emerald stud. I whispered in his ear and asked if he had congress with another male before, and he looked at me with shocked and fearful eyes and proclaimed that he had not, afraid that he had done something to make me suspicious and had offended me. Only the pure and perfect may be offered up to a god, or his Impersonator, a virgin. I smiled at him and assured him that all was all right and I dropped my hand and cupped those tiny, innocent stones and rolled them gently and then took his growing member between thumb and fingers and milked it. His breath shuddered again and he trembled in fear and uncertainty and desire. This night and this night only would he feel that mix of emotions for after this night he would know the delight of congress with another male. This night and this night only would I know this boy as the innocent and pure treasure that he was, a gift fitting for an ixiptla.

His little member continued to grow in my hand and I reached out to take his hand and wrap his fingers about my swollen, blood-engorged cock, rigid as the shaft of a spear. He tightened his grip and glanced down at my hoodless cock as he slowly stroked it, in awe of its size and firmness. I kissed him again and my left hand caressed his smooth, warm flesh as my right stroked his little cocklet until it was firm and throbbing with desire and pleasure. I buried my nose in his long, coarse hair, freshly washed and smelling of rose petals. I inhaled deeply, delighting in the scent of this fresh, innocent boy, delighting in the natural fragrance of boy. I nibbled on his ear again and asked if he caressed himself down there and again he gave a definite and offended denial. Only the pure and the perfect . . . My cock was leaking that sweet, clear nectar that precedes a man's seed and I scooped it up with his fingertips and brought them to his sweet, ruby lips. He tasted a man's clear nectar for the first time and I could see in his eyes that he found favour in it. I placed my hands on those narrow, boney shoulders and eased him down to his knees. I instructed him in how to breathe and he slowly slipped those beautiful lips about my cockhead and sucked on my pipe and played beautiful music.

I guided him so he descended slowly and did not gag until he had as much of my swollen cock in his mouth and throat as he could take, and I guided him back up. I glanced down then and watched this beautiful nine-year-old boy sucking cock for the first time, his long feathery eyelashes closed and fluttering as he savoured his first cock and felt a man's lust throbbing between his lips. He was so young and so innocent that it took all my efforts to hold back and not fill his mouth with my cream that very moment. He was eager to please, and found pleasure in the task, and sucked and bobbed his head without assistance from me. His little cocklet was now stiff and jutted up in the air to watch. I called on my years of experience and strength of will to focus on the throbbing pleasure between my legs and the even greater pleasure of knowing this was the boy's first experience at sucking cock without losing control and bringing this pleasure to an all too soon end.

Finally I reached down and eased his head back. Telling him to lie on his back on the mat, I retrieved the gourd of oil and having the boy raise his hips and throw his legs back over his head, I greased first my stiff, aching cock and then dipped my finger in the oil and coated his little anus. The tender flesh quivered beneath my touch and I coated the little rosebud amply before finally pressing my index finger against it. He inhaled nervously as I slowly eased my greased finger up his rectum, greasing it from inside. I worked my finger in and out of his anus, and then inserted both my index finger and middle finger. They slid in easily with the oil and he inhaled sharply as I inserted both as far as I could and slowly finger fucked him. His little cocklet jerked and wagged with the stimulation of his anus.

And then I knelt between his legs and placed the tip of my greased member against his hole. I held up his legs and pulled them apart as I pressed forward ever so slowly. He inhaled sharply again as my bulb stretched open his tight sphincter, penetrating this young, innocent boy for the first time. Even with the oil and my experience it was not easy but ever so slowly my bulb stretched open the reluctant hole until at last my bulb popped inside his rectum. I paused to catch my breath and for the two of us to relax, and then I slowly sank my member up his ass, pushing in until my pubic hairs were pressing against his body and his tiny, wrinkled eggs were nestled in my wiry bush.

And then I slowly withdrew and he quivered as his anus grasped my receding cock until my bulb once again began to stretch his anal muscle. I again paused and then once more sank my cock up his tight ass. His flesh, hot and moist, grasped my swollen cock and throbbed around it and my thick cock throbbed deep up his rectum with sweet pleasure. In and out I pumped my cock, fucking this tight, tender, virgin ass, and the boy squirmed and gasped and quivered with pleasure as he was fucked for the first time in his life. Never again would he know the pleasure of having a man's long, thick cock penetrating him for the first time. Never again would he experience for the first time having a man's flesh throbbing hotly with lust up his rectum. His ruby lips were parted with the pleasure pulsating up his rectum and with that pleasant burning of his anus as it was stretched and fucked.

I guided his right hand to his stiff, little cocklet and wrapping his fingers about his member I guided them up and down the shaft and his eyes gleamed with the pleasure throbbing through that swollen flesh and with the sweet pain ringing his bulb. I pumped my hips slowly, easing my cock in and out of his rectum, delighting in the throbbing pleasure of his rectum and my flesh, and delighting even more in the delight in this young boy's face, his smooth, downy cheeks flushed with arousal and exertion, his dark eyes bright with lust and until now unknown pleasure. I fucked him slowly so we would both enjoy the experience, the two of us concentrating on the throbbing union connecting us.

As I felt the pressure developing in my loins I inhaled deeply and sighed with the knowledge of what was to come. Slowly the pressure built until I could hold back no longer and my seed, hot and thick, rushed up the core of my numbed cock and spurted deep up his rectum, spurt after spurt filling his young, innocent bowels. At the same time he inhaled sharply and thrust his hips up and back spasmodically as his orgasm hit him, the first orgasm of his life. He whimpered and cried out with delight as his numb cocklet throbbed and burned for the first time ever and his rectum was filled with a man's hot seed and his sweat-drenched body jerked uncontrollably with his explosive orgasm. So it was that I celebrated the new moon and my eighteenth birthday fucking this beautiful, virgin boy half my age.

The fourth month, Uey Tocoztli, saw the worship of Tlaloc once again and still more bloody sacrifices, that of young children, boys and girls, still nursing at their mother's tit being sacrificed on the surrounding mountains, the domain of Tlaloc, and seven children, slaves or the second born children of nobles, drowned in Lake Tezcoco at sunrise and at midday. I, thankfully, was spared witnessing these sacrifices.

Two days after the new moon festival, I began my tour of the western portion of the Empire, an event I welcomed for several reasons, chief among them being that it took me out of the capital and Lake Xochimilco and their crowds, more importantly it took me away from the sacrifices to Tlaloc, and most importantly of all, it was an opportunity to see the Empire firsthand and discover if what I had been told was true, particularly the existence of a Great Ocean Sea to the west.

A dozen slaves accompanied me, four at a time taking turns to carry me on my litter from which I could wave my blessing upon the peasants that we met along the way. There were clear paths to follow, with buildings placed strategically along the way where travellers could rest, eat, and tend to their bodily needs. Besides carrying my litter, the slaves saw to the cooking of our meals, the midmorning meal and our midafternoon meal, and if we were between villages seeing to our sleeping accommodations. In addition to the slaves, I was attended by three priests to assist me in the daily rituals and to see to the arrangements of meeting with priests, nobles, dignitaries and supplicants along the way.

And so we left the valley and the high plateau and headed west, over several mountain ranges and other high plateaus, slowly descending in altitude. In all it took us fifteen days to travel to the western edge of the Empire, ten days of travelling from predawn to dusk, and five days of stopping at temples along our route. At the end of fifteen days I found that what I had been told was neither misinformation nor an old wife's tale, the western margin of the Empire was indeed another Great Ocean Sea that extended as far as the eye could see, and which the coastal fishermen said had no end for there was no land further to the west. I stood there looking out at the expanse of water with an ache in my heart for I missed the open sea and the life of a merchant seaman. Even of a greater ache though was the realization that I was not in the Far Eastern domain of the Great Khan but on an island, the largest island imaginable for it had taken me almost a year and a half to traverse it, an island that no scholar nor explorer, not even our wisest, had known existed.

I was heading back to our temple on Lake Xochimilco when the fifth month, the month of Toxcatl, began, and we were four days of travel away when the moon once again disappeared from the sky. The priests pushed the slaves hard so that we arrived two days later at Calixlahuaca, an ancient outpost that had been settled so long ago the original peoples were long-forgotten. From the tales I was told by the elders, it would have had to have been settled long before the birth of Christ himself, and from its appearance, I had no reason to doubt their tales. (2)

There in the centre of the city was a tiered, circular altar to Ehecal, the wind god, a huge plaza, and nearby a large academy, a calmecac, for preparing young men for military, judicial, statesmanship or priestly careers. Up to the age of fourteen, children, boys and girls, learn huehuetlatolli, sayings of the old at their father's knee. At the age of fifteen boys from the elite classes attend the calmecac, these academies being run by the priests, or for the commoners, the telpochcalli, which are run by the military who have been proven in their field and have been chosen to train tradesmen. To have the ixiptla of Xochipilli present was a great honour and I was feasted and entertained as befitting a god and waited on by the young of the elite. I was starving, and not just for food and drink, and the priests in their wisdom knew. My meal included never-ending maca, chiapas, and xocolatl so that by the end of the meal I was as jittery as a virgin bride on her wedding night and as prurient as the groom.

As was the custom, after the new moon ceremony I was joined by the altar boy, a lad of ten, who despite his experience was in awe in the presence of the ixiptla. On this occasion, we were joined by four fifteen-year-old boys who were expected to become priests of Xochipilli because of their great beauty. They sat in a circle and watched respectfully as the altar boy and I aroused each other and then under my direction satisfied each other orally. As I said, he was experienced, having served as altar boy for two years, and he licked and sucked on my swollen member expertly though nervously and self-consciously given my position. For me, it was a delight to suck on the slender little noodle of this precocious, cock-sucking boy. Although he had by then been sucked many times, the pleasure of having an aroused cock and having it sucked were still mysterious and novel for him and I shared in his childish awe and delight.

I was eager to fill his young mouth with my seed, but I was even more eager to enjoy the pleasure of being sucked by this tender boy-child as long as possible, so I had him clamp his lips below my bulb frequently, a technique that he was acquainted with. That he had caused me such arousal and pleasure pleased him immensely of course, and he lay there and sucked on my swollen cock proudly, knowing that the older boys watching had to be aware of his skill and obviously his attractiveness. I did not delay his natural reaction and he experienced orgasm after orgasm, his little stones swollen and drawn up tight beneath his cock as they tried desperately to release the seed they were still too young to produce. That sucking my cock was giving him multiple orgasms had the four boys watching at the peak of ejaculation themselves, and several of them dripping with the clear nectar that precedes a man's seed. At last I rewarded the smooth-cheeked little cocksucker with my seed, thick and copious, and he drank it down eagerly.

He then sat to the side and watched as I engaged the four teenagers orally. With a sex-mad teenage boy sucking at each breast, one between my legs licking my swollen cock and stones, and the fourth licking and sucking my anus, I made no effort to pleasure them for they were already erect and ready to erupt, instead reaching over only to wrap my fingers about their throbbing sausages below their bulbs to cut off their desire. Four, prurient, fifteen-year-old boys, smooth cheeked and thick-haired, their bodies just beginning to develop the definition that comes with puberty, their cocklets now the length of the width of five fingers, their bodies aching for the release of their seed and needing no herbs to arouse them, they were soon arching their bodies and grimacing with the need to spurt.

Gathering them before me, I reached out and caressed their sensitive thighs and tender buttholes, and unable to hold back, they shuddered and shot forth their seed, the first initiating the reaction in the second and the third and fourth quick to follow. I had them point their throbbing cocks at my mouth and I eagerly sucked up their hot, slimy seed, still thin and watery but delightfully copious. Their streamers struck my cheeks and ran down my jaw and my neck. Shot after shot of hot, sweet boy juice was expertly aimed at my mouth. I swallowed their seed and took each cock in turn and sucked on it, sucking the young teenage boy's stones dry before going on to the next. I then had them kneel before me and rewarded them with my own seed and the four knelt there eagerly drinking at my fountain.

His lips moist with a film of my cream and his young cocklet still jutting out between his legs, one of them bent over and I greased his hole and my cock and penetrated him, sinking my long, thick cock up his asshole until my coarse hairs were pressed against his smooth, compact backside. Delighting in his hot, moist flesh gripping my throbbing cock, I fucked him enthusiastically, ramming my cock in and out of his hole, and he clenched his anus and relaxed it in delight and eager anticipation. As I filled his young ass with my seed he spurted a second time, and I caught his seed in my palm and lapped it up, my throbbing cock still up his ass. One by one, the other three priests in waiting stepped forward and offered me their seed as I planted mine up their young assholes. Young and prurient, they needed no help in maintaining erections nor in producing their seed a second time, and I had no difficulty filling their rectums, and that of the young altar boy. Such is the reward for being an ixiptla.

Rainfall had been gradually increasing each month, evidence their prayers and sacrifices were being noticed, but the Tenochca were dependent on rain and not about to take a chance that they had done enough. That meant the sacrifice of captive warriors to Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca this month. The day after my return I joined the Impersonator of Tezcatlipoca, a fair-complexioned youth of twenty-one painted black, a war captive himself who had been Impersonator now for almost a year. Tezcatlipoca was the supreme god in the Tenochca pantheon and his Impersonator was treated accordingly, and he behaved as one might expect of one who is treated in all respects as a god for a year. He was a proud and arrogant individual who relished the attention and the accolades, the pomp and the luxuries. As the warriors climbed the steps to his altar and lay down on the artificial stone he actually smiled as the priest stepped forward and cut them open, and his eyes blazed with pleasure as their bloody hearts were held up for his blessing. After the ceremony we retired to one of the private gardens where we talked about the glory of the Empire and we relaxed and nibbled on meat tamales and goat cheese and chile peppers and drank a deep red wine I was unacquainted with. He played the flute and I the panpipe and we laughed and danced but through it all I could not erase from my mind the images of the young men who had been slaughtered that day.

He told me that at the beginning of his reign he had been married to the four beautiful, full-bosomed maidens who now waited on him and me. These were the impersonators of the goddess Xochiquetzal, the goddess of plants and vegetation; Xilonen, the young goddess of tender maize who looked to be barely in her teens; Atlatonan, an earth deity, who at eighteen was the oldest; and, Huixtocihuatl, the goddess of salt. He was expected to have sex with them constantly he told me, and which he proudly claimed he did, sometimes two or three times a day, and to impregnate them, which he proudly claimed to have done, three of them having already born a child and bearing a second, and the fourth, Huixtocihuatl, heavy with her first child and expected to deliver within a month. He bragged so loudly about his prowess in the bedchamber there was no doubt he considered that his greatest achievement and I got the distinct impression that he looked upon me and the preference of Xochipilli for those of his sex with disdain though being an Impersonator myself he dared not say so.

We returned to the Great Temple where the Emperor himself arrived to pay homage, appearing naked before him and before his subjects as his entourage played conch trumpets to announce his arrival. The Emperor, Ahuitzotl, named after a mythical dog-like creature, was now in the seventh year of his reign. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties and his body was strong and muscular like that of a warrior. He clearly did not rule sitting on his throne while others went to war on his behalf. A stern, fierce-looking man, he was very popular with the people and wildly cheered but he did not seem overly joyed having to appear before the Impersonator of Tezcatlipoca, and especially naked, but there are some things that even an Emperor must do. The Impersonator on the other hand took great joy in the ceremony and I am sure in his arrogance and pride did not even notice the Emperor's lack of enthusiasm.

Toxcatl is also the month for courting, the month where youths approach their gods seeking their blessing as they pursue wives and husbands. They slash their arms, legs and stomachs and bleed into bowls which they offer up to their gods. Those boys who have a preference for other boys came worshipping at the temple of Xochipilli, and being beseeched by beautiful, prurient, young boys resulted in me being in an almost constant state of arousal. One custom of these people is the making of an image of their god in maize dough to which they add their blood and then bake and serve. On a whim, I decided to initiate a modified version. A shy, beautiful boy of sixteen, the eldest son of a high-ranking noble in the city, came seeking the blessing of Xochipilli and in consideration of his rank I heard his petition myself. Although accustomed to deference due to his father's position, he was awed to be heard by the ixiptla himself. Receiving his gift, exquisitely crafted earrings of gold, and hearing his petition, which he blurted out self-consciously, I took him aside to one of the adjoining rooms. He was exceedingly nervous and confessed he had limited and not so satisfying experience with other boys. Having him take the lead, it was quickly evident why. So I demonstrated for him, showing him how to focus on pleasing his partner and showing him what I thought were simple, basic techniques, techniques I had learned at the age of fourteen as a bath boy but which he obviously was unaware of.

I also showed him how to delay his ejaculation, and that of his partner and he blushed and lowered his eyes in embarrassment. He was a beautiful boy and his looks alone were enough to arouse a person, and his shyness added to his attractiveness, making it difficult to control my own lust. He was quickly aroused and I was careful to avoid overstimulating him, explaining how I was avoiding particular sensitive spots of his body and why. We dallied for at least a candle mark, simply caressing and kissing and dampening each other desires. At last we pleasured each other orally and again we had to pause frequently or we would have culminated the act in a matter of heartbeats. I licked and sucked and worked my lips up and down his rock-hard, teenage shaft and he did the same to me, and we clamped our lips tightly below each other's bulb to cut off our lust several times until neither of us could hold back any longer. As I spurted my seed down his throat, I felt the tremor along the underside of his cock and I quickly slipped my lips off and caught his seed in one of the offering cups which were used for such purpose. This seed, however, was not destined to be placed before the stone sculpture of Xochipilli.

Signally one of the other priests, I handed him the precious fluid with special instructions and then turned my attention back to the youth. We kissed and fondled each other once more, bringing us both to erection a second time. This time I showed him how to stimulate another boy's anus and lubricate it and then I mounted him and fucked him, filling his rectum with my seed, and then we reversed the roles and he filled mine. As we reclined and relaxed afterward, the priest I had summoned returned, bearing a platter with a single ball of maize meal bread resembling a tamale, but this one had a very special filling, it had been stuffed with his seed. We broke off a piece which we offered up to Xochipilli, and then broke the remainder in half and consumed it. His young cock began to rise as he ate his own seed, and I told him it was a sign of Xochipilli's blessing. My own cock stirred as I watched him shyly eating his portion. This was definitely a practice I would have to add to the rituals of worship. I already had plans of introducing my followers to the Eucharist, and this, I thought wistfully, would be an excellent introduction. Today a tamale stuffed with seed, tomorrow a wafer representing the body of Christ. The young boy took my smile to mean satisfaction with him, and he blushed modestly.

Several days later another gift was left at the temple, ornate gold incense holders and an assortment of precious gems, a gift from the boy's father. Apparently with renewed self-confidence the boy had found a lover and there was a potential liaison between two powerful families, for which the father was particularly grateful. For four days at the close of the month, Tezcatlipoca paraded about the streets playing his flute and the crowds cheered and danced with wild enthusiasm. On the fifth day he travelled by canoa to Acaquilpan where, I am told, he climbed the steps of the temple Tlacochcalco, breaking a flute on each step. At the top he laid down on the sacrificial stone and his heart was removed. At that precise moment back at the Great Temple another called Titlacahuan, his twin, lay on the sacrificial stone where his heart was also ripped out and his head removed. After being beheaded and his body flayed, Tezcatlipoca's flesh was boiled and distributed to select nobles to be eaten Meanwhile the sound of a flute could be heard playing and his replacement arrived to partake of his flesh, wearing his skin.

Returning to the Great Temple he oversaw along with the rest of us the close of the month. As we stood on the platform and watched, the citizens performed a dance called the Leap of Toxcatl, the name explaining the nature of the dance. Following this the men performed a dance called The Serpent, and again the name reflected the nature of the dance, the men forming a line and weaving about the plaza, the line doubling over on itself in a complex pattern. The women followed with the Grilled Corn Dance and the new Tezcatlipoca began his year-long reign, raising his arms and turning in a half circle to the cheers of his followers, his perverse costume still dripping with blood. As I looked at this young man, his eyes bright and his mind clearly drugged, I was dumfounded how anyone could aspire to his position knowing that in a year's time he would be expected to climb to the sacrificial stone and have his heart ripped out. On the morrow the head of Tezcatlipoca would be returned and placed on the rack before the Great Temple beside that of his twin, gruesome reminders of his future.

I returned to my own temple in a much subdued and disturbed state. For a year they treated their Impersonator as if he were a god, bestowing upon him all the privileges and comforts of their highest ranking nobles, and then they killed him. I could not comprehend how any nation of sane, civilized people could justify such an action, even superstitious heathens such as these. Not even the Arabs, whose atrocities are notorious, would do such a thing. I could understand even less why a person would willingly serve as an ixiptla when he knew such a fate awaited him. Was the pride and arrogance of the one I knew only as the Impersonator of Tezcatlipoca so great he was willing to give his life for a year of god-worship? I tried to think back as to how many Impersonators I have so far seen who have ended their lives that way. There were more than I had realized. I had to wonder if they all ended up being sacrificed. That was more than curiosity considering I was an ixiptla and my heart sank to a new low as I considered the answer. I did not sleep that night.

The next month, the sixth, Etzalqualiztlifast, was dedicated to Tlaloc and was accompanied by the sacrifice of infants once again. Those that were not taken to the mountains were slaughtered in the city and their hearts taken to the mountains in ceramic jars. Jade was thrown into the lakes or hung above the lakes on poles in the hope that the lakes would rise to the gemstones. I travelled to the mountains to the east with the Tlaloc Impersonator for a ceremony to entice Tlaloc to bring rain, not because I wanted to but because it was custom.

I knew nearby was a silver mine and I used the opportunity to seek it out, still clinging to the hope, as thin as it was, that I might someday return to my homeland and report to my king what riches lay beyond the Great Ocean Sea. Xochipilli is not the patron god of silver miners, but he was a god, and as his Impersonator, nobody was about to deny me my will. The mine was large and rich, and, I learned, there were many like it in the surrounding mountains. This would be a good land to invade and Christianize. While there I entertained the silver miners with my panpipe and with song, and they greatly appreciated the respite from their hard labours. One of the miners, a boy I figured to be my age, had just emerged from the mine and he sat there entranced as I performed. His handsome face was smudged with silver-blue dust, as was his thick, coarse hair, and he was still wearing his miner's clothes. I had seen the look in his eyes in the eyes of many men in the past. Following my performance, I had one of my attendants announce that I was available for private audiences, and a small enclosure was set up for that purpose.

For the next candle mark nobody took me up on the offer, which was not a surprise considering that these were labourers and worshipped Xipe Toltec, but I was also correct about the young man. He was hesitant and nervous and came with the offering of a rough silver nugget. He professed to be inexperienced regarding congress with other men but also unsatisfied with congress with the opposite sex. I had suspected from the look on his face that such was the case, and I offered to guide him in a session with me. He apologized for his appearance and for not having changed his clothes, but he had none that were cleaner and had only by the greatest of will decided to approach me. He was a shy youth, not unlike the nobleman's son I had congress with just over a week earlier.

I motioned him closer and disrobed him, and then dropped my robes and loincloth for him. His hands were rough and calloused and his biceps and thighs thick and hard with muscle, accenting his masculinity. I caressed his naked body and he caressed mine, copying my motions but rough and uncertain, but that too added to his attractiveness. He was a simple worker without artifice or secret purposes, a man of the earth, very different from most who sought the temple of Xochipilli, and I welcomed the difference. He was still a male and responded as males do, and he was soon erect and his body hot with desire. I lubricated his anus with a scented oil from a gourd which I always carried with me, and then having him kneel on his knees and elbows, I mounted him and rode him. His flesh grasped my member as I withdrew it and yielded as I sank it back up his bowels, and soon the two of us were perspiring and eager to release our seed. I shot mine deep up his bowels and he spurted his on the earth. As he left, I had no doubt that Xochipilli had a new follower.

On the last day of the month the moon completed its cycle and disappeared from the sky. That night four Impersonators joined me at my Temple for a special ceremony to welcome back the moon and to usher in the next month. The first to arrive with his retinue of priests was the new Impersonator of Tezcatlipoca, god of judgement, the night, sorcery, hurricanes, obsidian, the earth, and beauty. His name meant smoking mirror, obsidian being used to make mirrors and used in divination. The god having lost his right foot, it was replaced by an obsidian mirror. He was seen as the Great Bear in the sky and he was represented by a jaguar on earth. His Impersonator was young, sixteen I guessed, and very beautiful, his dark skin painted black with a black and yellow stripe across face. He wore an abalone shell as a chest pectoral, a heron feather headdress, a heron feather loincloth, sandals, armbands, tiny bells around his neck and ankles, and expensive jewellery. He carried a quiver of arrows and a bow and spear, a fan of feathers surrounding a mirror, and a flute. Strapped to his right foot was an obsidian mirror.

The next to arrive with his priests was Huitzilopochtli, god of will and the sun, patron of war and fire. There were eighteen festive days in the year held in his honour, signifying his importance. He was of equal power with Tlaloc. He was an older youth, mid-twenties, with a blue-green hummingbird helmet, feathers on his left leg, a black face with yellow and blue stripes, and he carried a sceptre shaped like a snake. His main month was the fifteenth month of their year. He spoke little and it was clear he considered himself above the rest of us.

The Impersonator of Mixcoatl, the god of war and hunting, arrived with his bow and arrows and his net and basket, a fire drill and flint, a black mask over his eyes and red and white stripes over his body. His main month was the fourteenth and he was represented by the white band in the sky we call the Milky Way. Accompanying him was the Impersonator of Tlacahuepan, lord of dawn and the morning star, Venus. He dressed the same as Mixcoatl. It was believed he caused drought and he was seen as dangerous and malevolent and the personality of this ixiptla matched that of his god. From the look in his eyes and his demeanor, I would not want to cross this individual and I prayed that he did not like those of the same sex for I knew there were men in this world who took great delight in causing their sex partner, male or female, great pain while they were engaged in sex, and this man was certainly such a one.

Our priests, numbering over a hundred, payed us homage and offered up prayers to the heavens. They chanted and we drank the dark brown, bitter xocolatl and we engaged in a complex dance in which we wove in and out in a pattern, meeting and retreating. Tezcatlipoca played his flute and I my panpipe and I and Tlacahuepan sang solos and a duet and then performed a dance together, an erotic, suggestive dance. From the look in his eyes as he looked into mine I knew he was thinking how he might torture me and a chill ran up my spine. I was much relieved when the sun crested the eastern horizon and my guests and their priests departed. And so we welcomed in the beginning of the seventh month, the month of Tecuilhuitantli, the month dedicated to me and Huixtocihuatl, the goddess of maize. As was their custom, the first day was a day of rest and contemplation. I spent the day plotting my escape from this land. Knowing I was blocked by the Great Ocean Sea to the west and the east and having come from the north, there was really only one direction to flee. I sought out the one man whom I knew had knowledge of those regions, Ozomatli, who had become a Novice at the same time as I had, and I questioned him on the lay of the land, the main centres, and the nature of its people.

The second day the New Moon reappeared and once again I had congress with the altar boy I had congress with two months previous and I can honestly say I do not know which of the two of us had looked forward to the occasion the most. It was a perfect way to begin the month dedicated to myself. I cannot explain the pure joy it is to have congress with a nine-year-old boy nor how contagious his innocence and youthful, unbiased zeal of pleasures of the flesh is. He told me how much he had missed me this past two months and how each night he recalled our congress and how his body ached for my touch, and for my cock. He told me how he dreamed about it and recalled its taste and its fragrance and how it felt throbbing between his lips and throbbing my sacred juice up his rectum.

I knew he was reciting what he knew I wanted to hear, what was expected of him as a New Moon singer and lead worshipper, but I also knew it was more than a litany recited for the living representative of his god. The brightness in his eyes, the sincerity in his young face and the conviction in his voice told me that he was speaking the truth, that this innocent, ten-year-old boy who had been fucked and who had tasted cock for the first time two months ago truly had delighted in the experience and ached to have it repeated. The physical pleasure of having his little cocklet sucked and his virgin asshole stretched and fucked were new pleasures that he ached to feel again. The spiritual pleasure of bringing another man pleasure, of sucking his cock and feeling it up his ass and receiving his seed, was just as enjoyable as his physical pleasure.

And so the two of us stripped naked, ten and eighteen years of age, and we caressed each other's naked body, his smooth and soft and rounded, mine firm and tattooed and my muscles defined. He caressed my pendant stones and swelling member and I caressed his small, tender nuts and stroked his soft, little noodle until it too became rock hard. He slipped his soft, ruby lips about my member and sucked on it, eager for the milk of my balls, and I sucked on his slender, smooth little cocklet until he was squirming and bucking with his dry orgasm. I caressed his smooth, compact buttocks and mounted him, plunging my aching cock up his tender asshole and arching my back with pleasure as I felt his anal muscle eagerly grasp my throbbing cock. I fucked him slowly and gently until the two of us were trembling and grunting with our orgasms, me filling his rectum with my hot seed and him bucking erratically in the throes of prepubescent ecstasy.

Many sacrifices were made to Xochipilli during this month, and as his Impersonator, I presided over these offerings, thankfully usually flowers and living quails, accepting them on his behalf from his devout followers, youths seeking his blessing in the games and competitions held daily throughout the city, young men seeking the love of other young men, and musicians, poets and artists of all ages seeking a blessing on their work. They all looked upon me with reverence and the highest of respect due a messenger of the Flower Prince. More than a few of the young men gazed upon my body with obvious desire, and I could not help covet them as well. I brought two of them to my chambers, a flute player and a poet, and I played my panpipes and we sang and made music and created poems, and I had congress with the two of them. I expressed my god's pleasure with their offerings and assured them of his good will and blessings, and retired to the inner chambers of his Temple to meditate and to converse with him and assure him of the love of his followers and thank him for smiling upon the Tenochca. Above all else, I offered thanks I was not impersonating a god who required the offering of human lives. There were twenty districts in the city, and I visited each of them.

The city was decorated with water flowers and the lords of the city hosted great banquets and musical festivals for the commoners, most of which I attended as the guest of honor. On the summer solstice, a great festival was held in honor of Xochipilli before his temple on Lake Xochimilco. With the playing of drums, rattles, trumpets, and flutes and the sacrifice of quails, the emperor danced publicly before me and my worshiper, fully clothed and appearing to enjoy himself much more than the last time I had seen him, and his assistants distributed gifts to the crowd. I met with him briefly and he knelt before me in reverence. It felt strange to have the leader of this vast and powerful empire, a man twice my age, humbly kneel before me, but then I was the living image of a god, and in our brief conversation, I found he truly believed it to be so. He was a serious man, a true warrior, whose sole goal was to expand his empire in honor of his gods, and despite the cruelty of his faith, I empathized with him. I drank much maca, chiapas and xocolatl and feasted on honey cakes, finally retiring to my room with two priests of my choosing,. There were several reasons for my choice. For one, we had maintained our friendship since the day we had met despite my rapid rise in the ranks of the priesthood and I felt most comfortable with them. For another, I had devised a desperate plan for escape, and I needed the advice and assistance of someone I could confide in and trust. And third, the two of them were attractive and skilled in the bedchamber.

There on the patio of my room we embraced as the sun rose and turned the patio gold and red. I felt as tense as an overly wound ut string and as prurient as a groom on his wedding night. The three of us disrobed each other and kissed and caressed one another in a mad frenzy, my two companions feeling the same as I. We formed a circle, Ozomatli's throbbing member in my mouth, mine in Cuacuatli's, and his between Ozomatli's lips. We sucked and bobbed our heads, relishing the delight of each other's member, relishing the taste and fragrance of young cock. We delayed each other's ejaculation twice before succumbing and drinking each other's precious fluids.

Cuacuatli and I then engaged in an act that is, to my knowledge, unique to these people. Taking a short, hollow reed, he inserted one end into the opening of my member, and then pulling back his foreskin inserted the other end in his. We then ever so slowly eased forward until the tips of our members were touching. Ozomatli then carefully and slowly drew up Cuacuatli's foreskin over his knob and stretched it on over mine. Holding the tip tightly about my swollen cock behind my bulb, he then caressed our bulbs with his other hand. Thrills of arousal rippled through my bulb, and the thought of what would eventually happen heightened my arousal. It quickened Cuacuatli also and soon he erupted, his seed gushing up his cock and through the tube into my cock and I gasped with the strange sensation of feeling it surging up the core of my cock in the opposite direction to which I normally feel my fluids flow. And then I erupted and my seed met his and pushed it back as it raced out of my cock and through the tube into his, only to be met by the next squirt of his. Of course unable to contain our thick, copious slime, it oozed out and over our cockheads under his still tightly-held foreskin and out between Ozomatli's fingers. At last Ozomatli released his hold and we separated and the reed, slick with our slime, slid out of our cocks and the remainder of our seed gushed out. (3)

People gathered the following day at the Tlaloc shrine at the Great Temple where they worshiped Huixtocihuatl, the older sister of Tlaloc, the goddess of salt and salt water and I was, of course, expected to attend the opening ceremonies. Unmarried girls brought ears of green corn to the temple where it was blessed by the priests and the ixiptla herself. There was much feasting and drinking and salt makers danced before her Impersonator, a former slave girl, in her honor in pairs, holding a long rope which they braided and twisted as they danced, the beginning of a ten-day festival dedicated to her. As I have mentioned, she was heavy with child, having been impregnated by the previous Impersonator of Tezcatlipoca and was expected to give birth any day.

After the ceremony I retired to my temple at Lake Xochimilco where I communed with my god after entering into a drug-induced stupor. By this time I had catalogued a large number of mushrooms, seeds, leaves, flowers and roots which were eaten raw or ground between flat rocks and brewed into a drink or baked into a cake for such purpose and had collected seeds and spores to take back to my king. This day I was given a drink brewed from ground tlitliltzin seeds and I chewed the fresh leaves of a plant they called Pipiltzintzintli. Sometimes these preparations resulted in vivid and strange dreams which were a combination of things I had seen in my past and other things that were completely new and for which I had no sane explanation. At other times they resulted in dizzy spells and extreme nausea accompanied by visions of strange colors and shapes with feelings of great euphoria, great fear or great confusion, and sometimes all three at the same time. And other times they simply caused me to pass out.

This time I had a jumbled dream of being back with the Admiral raiding the island villages and capturing the first people we had met. That was so long ago I had forgotten the excitement and the mystery of meeting these naked savages who seemed now so innocent and childlike compared to the warlike Tenochca. Then the vision switched and he and I were being carried on litters and cheered as gods with the head of the Emperor being born on a spear before us before ascending the steep steps of the Great Temple where we embraced and kissed and our hearts were ripped out and as I lay there dying he said that I deserved to die for having aided his captives to escape and his face changed so that he appeared to be Tlacahuepan and though we were both dead he reached out with a glittering obsidian knife to cut off my stones. I woke up in a fevered sweat and sat bolt upright in confusion, for a moment thinking that perhaps Tlacahuepan had arrived to continue where we had left off. The priests accompanying me had heard my cries of fear and pain during my vision and were most concerned what I had seen.

I thought long about my vision and concluded it was most likely nothing more than a nightmare brought about by my latest encounter with Tlacahuepan and the sacrifices I had been witnessing and my own sacrifice that was rapidly approaching. At the same time, I knew the greed and fanaticism of the Admiral and of the avidity and excitability of the Spanish in general and that it would only be a matter of time before they heard rumors of this empire and its gold and came in search of it. Despite the thirst of these people for human sacrifice, they did not deserve to have their kingdom overthrown by the likes of the Spanish. So, after much reflection I described my vision to the head priest, and he and I sought an audience with the Great Speaker, Ahuitzotl, telling his advisors I had a vision that was of great importance to the welfare of their Emperor and of the Empire. That, and I am sure the fact that this month Xochipilli was being especially honored, got us an audience.

This great ruler met with us in his throne room in his grand palace, to which only the most powerful and most important were admitted, with as much pomp and ceremony as any King in Europe or Sultan in Asia. The palace corridors were lined with riches collected from across his vast empire by himself and his predecessors, and the throne room itself was designed to intimidate with its massive throne carved with the symbol of the empire, an eagle clutching a snake, and surrounded by images of the gods and of his namesake. He himself was dressed in his large, feather headdress and ceremonial robes, gold ear and nose plugs, gold and silver chains, and precious gemstones. No stranger with regard to meeting of royalty or of pomp and ceremony, and dressed myself in my finest, I was still daunted by the grandeur and rich trappings.

Gathering up my wits and my courage, I hailed him and paid him homage, as he did me as the ixiptla of Xochipilli. I told him of my vision of a great and powerful pale-skinned warrior who would come from the east from a tribe across the eastern Great Ocean Sea and who desired his riches and would invade and conquer his land. He asked me to describe this great warrior and when I did so he said that what I had to say was not new, and that many had warned of great chiefs coming to challenge him, and many of those warnings had been proven true, but he had met and conquered them all for there is no greater army than his, and no greater ruler than him. I agreed with the might of his army and his greatness as a warrior, but I persisted and warned him that this conqueror was particularly cruel, and that he and his men had weapons unlike any he had ever seen, weapons like those I carried and weapons even more powerful. He was most interested in the weapons I carried and asked questions about them and these other weapons this supposed army had, but he still brushed off my warning, saying his men also had strong magic. He reminded me that the coming of the god Quetzalcoatl to reclaim his kingdom had been foretold many generations ago, but observed that even that he did not fear.

Seeing I was not going to make any headway with this arrogant, stiff-necked man, I instead warned him of the discontent among the peoples he had conquered, discontent I had witnessed myself in my tour of the western portion of the Empire, and discontent I told him many of my worshipers had revealed when I questioned them, but he dismissed that warning also, arrogantly saying that conquered people are always discontented, and that the poor are always unhappy, having always desired and envied the wealth of others, and that the Tenochca army would deal with them both. (4)

Returning to Lake Xochimilco, I was disappointed and discouraged, but satisfied that I had done all that I could. Perhaps it was the way it should be. Perhaps it was God's plan to destroy a nation so violent and bloodthirsty. I certainly did not owe any allegiance to it. For the next seven days I met with Ozomatli and Cuacuatli daily, which I made no effort to conceal for my attraction to them was well known and they often assisted me in my duties as dedicated priests of Xochipilli. With the end of the month and my final ceremony approaching it was only natural that we would meet. Finally the last day arrived.

There were two main ceremonies scheduled for that day, one for Huixtocihuatl and one for myself, to be held together at the Great Temple. I had fasted the night before and that morning went to the tem zcalli for my purification ceremony. The remainder of the day was spent in prayer to Xochipilli, and unbeknownst to my faithful followers, to God. I consumed several gourds of what they called The Green Drink, which as I have mentioned was drunk by the Emperor's couriers to give them added stamina and energy, and ate honey cakes washed down with xocolatl. Dressing in my ceremonial robes, I joined the ixiptla of Huixtocihuatl and together she and I stepped out onto the platform of the north temple, the altar of Tlaloc, the God of Rain, and greeted the cheering throng in the plaza far below and she gave her final blessing to the people and the salt merchants before stepping up to the sacrificial stone. I had to wonder what thoughts were going through her mind, having given birth only a few days earlier, to a baby girl I was told. As she began to lie down with the assistance of her priests, I slipped to the back of the platform and into the shadows behind my own priests.

With everyone's attention on her and her head priest, I quickly stripped off my ceremonial robes and loincloth and removed my headdress with the assistance of Ozomatli and Cuacuatli and Ozomatli and I slipped on simple peasants' loincloths and I wrapped myself in a plain blanket to cover my tattoos. It was only then that I noticed Cuacuatli had painted his arms and legs with the same tattoos as I was wearing and had slipped on my headdress and loincloth instead of giving them to a slave boy to wear as I had planned and we had agreed upon. There were many of them about the temple to perform the most menial of tasks and to see to the sexual needs of the lower ranks of the priesthood. The plan had been that Cuacuatli would drug one of the lightest skinned ones and paint the tattoos of the ixiptla on his limbs. The priests of course would notice the switch, but there would be no time to do anything about it, and the people would not know. It of course would mean the death of the boy, but he was only a slave, and it would be a great honour for him.

"You cannot!" I protested as he slipped on my ceremonial robe.

"Two will be better able to hide than three," he replied, "and there is nothing for me where you are going."

"But they will kill you!"

"And I will bring Xochipilli your greetings and we will laugh at your deception of the priests," he replied, "now go!"

There was a roar from the crowd as the knife of Huixtocihuatl's high priest descended and Ozomatli grabbed and pulled me away. Together we turned and raced down the corridor leading to the south side of the Great Temple and the altar of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war, and its steep red-painted steps leading down to a dark, deserted plaza.

Chapter 15
The Maya, Enemies and Allies

The Impersonator of Huixtochihuatl and Cuacuatli are sacrificed and Nico and Ozomatli flee southeast to join the Tlaxcala and then south to Mitla in tropical Oaxaco (Zapotec) where nobles give their sons early teen boys to satisfy their needs and Nico learns of the ira'muxe (men who marry men). They continue south to the Chiapas lowlands and highlands to join the Maya (Tzotzil, Tzeltal, Tojolabel, Ch'ol) and then west to Maya subgroups (Peten Basin Kejache', Itza), home of Ozomatli. His uncle's oldest son is about to be married and his 17 yo partner is about to get his own boy lover.

Characters: Tonahuitl (16yo warrior), Chac Coceeh (Water Vine) (13yo), Tzapot_cah; Ek-Cab (Black Earth) (13yo); Ozomatli, Nico have sex; two 14yo boy hunters.

As we exited the great plaza there arose a great cheer behind us and I knew Cuacuatli had stepped out onto the platform. I could imagine the surprise of the high priest and his assistants as they realized it was not the ixiptla of Xochipilli who had stepped out to the cheers of the adoring and faithful worshipers in the square below and the moment of confusion as to what they should do. Perhaps, I thought, realizing the deception, they would forego the sacrifice. I dismissed the thought the moment it entered my head, knowing it was wishful thinking on my part. There was no alternative but to proceed with the sacrifice. Those in the plaza would not be able to tell a switch had been made at that distance, and to not proceed with a sacrifice to Xochipilli would confuse and alarm the people, perhaps even raise doubts about the priests and their legends, and it would certainly risk incurring the wrath of the god himself.

I only knew his benevolent side, but I had been taught that if displeased he could bring about crop failure and inflict painful and disfiguring diseases, including genital sores and sexual dysfunction. Cuacuatli was not the Impersonator, but he was beautiful to look at and would be an apt messenger from the people and if anyone could he would be able to avert Xochipilli's wrath. Such was my state of mind, that I found myself believing in this foreign god with as much faith as I believed in the one and only true God.

Turning east, we raced down the empty street, the population of the city at that time of the day dutifully paying homage to their gods in the temple squares throughout the city or at home resting after a hard day of work. As I ran, I imagined Cuacuatli raising his hands in greeting and proudly marching over to the sacrificial stone. I could see him willingly lying down on the blood-christened stone and the assistants grasping his arms and legs and pulling his body taut as the fifth grasped his hair, that gorgeous, long, flowing hair that he took such great delight in combing, and pulling his head back, stretching his body. Tears filled my eyes as I pictured the terrible black, obsidian knife descending, slashing into his body, and the head priest reaching down and wrenching out his loving, beating heart. Tears flowed down my cheeks. Why? Why had he done this?

We made our way to the east causeway and out the east gate. The guards paid no head to two citizens leaving the great city, being posted to watch for the enemy who might attempt a surprise attack at this late hour, not to question a couple peasants leaving, probably to tend to the crops. Fueled with fear and excitement, Ozomatli and I ran along the wide path leading east away from teeming, stinking city of Tenochtitlan and its stench of blood and into the surrounding jungle. It was a cloudless sky and the now waning moon, having reached its fullness only three days earlier, shone above us, lighting our way. Ozomatli set a swift pace, a pace learned back when he had been a young warrior that would allow him to run all day without tiring, and I followed behind him, thankful for the hours I had spent exercising to keep myself in good physical condition to offset what had otherwise become a sedentary and drugged life for me. We continued well into the morning, constantly on the alert for pursuit, and finally sought the sanctuary of a dense growth of jungle where we collapsed and rested.

As dusk approached, we emerged from our hiding spot and again continued a brisk trot, heading south and east, running throughout the night and well into the next morning. We rested again until noon, and then continued on our way at a normal pace, wary of the few others we encountered on the trail, our hearts heavy as we both thought of Cuacuatli. Neither of us spoke of him. Toward evening we were intercepted by six warriors who suddenly stepped out of the jungle and surrounded us.

We had reached our destination, the domain of the Tlaxcala, a fierce confederation of four city-states bonded together against a common enemy, the Tenochca, who had them almost surrounded. The nation had managed to maintain its independence by entering into a formal war agreement, the flower wars which I have mentioned earlier, agreeing to participate in these abnormal ceremonial wars the Tenochca used to collect sacrifices rather than submit to their domination. The Tlaxcala, I had been told, were a favored peoples for such wars as they were a handsome people and skilled and brave warriors, perfect for serving as messengers to the gods. As we were escorted to their village and while we met with the village headman, I could see that the stories about these people had not been exaggerated.

We had chosen to flee to these people for several reasons. First and foremost, they were the nearest enclave of enemies with whom we could seek refuge. I knew from personal experience there were none to the west and those to the north were too far away, and there was no incentive for us to travel north anyway. The second reason of course was the xochiyaoyotl, the flower war. The two nations having agreed not to invade each other for land, game or dominance, we knew we would be safe from recapture until at least the next flower war, which was not scheduled for several months yet. Scheduled wars. If I ever made it back to my beloved Portugal, King Joáo would never believe such a thing and would surely think me having gone mad in my ordeal in this godforsaken land! That we would be recaptured when such time came we had no doubt. We were not members of the Tlaxcala so would be certain to be included with those warriors sent out to do ritual battle in place of two of their own, and we both knew the skills of those sent out by the Emperor for fresh sacrifices. We had no intention of waiting that long and only remained with the tribe four days, which was two days longer than we had planned.

Upon learning we had lived with the Tenochca for the past six months, the elders met with us long into the night that first day and all of the following day and we told them all we knew about the defenses of Tenochtitlan and the expansion plans of the Emperor, which was considerable information in that in our position as priests much confidential information had been shared with us by our loyal worshipers, in confession or the result of a loose tongue while basking in the aftermath of sexual congress. Of course our new captors suspected we had actually been sent by the Tenochca and were lying and so questioned us repeatedly and from different angles hoping to catch us in a lie. Obviously we owed the Tenochca no allegiance and so told no lies and so our stories were consistent. That we had managed to escape from our captors resulted in respect and admiration from these defiant warriors despite their suspicions and upon convincing our captors of our sincerity, we were exalted for our bravery and cunning.

Of course our days were saddened by the certain death of our companion. Although the three of us had only known each other for the past six months, we had become close, drawn together by a common oppression and common enemy, and, I suspect, a common weakness of the flesh, a sin I am finding that afflicts those of all faiths and of all races. So we had sought each other out whenever we could, to talk, to dream, and of course to have congress with each other. I was perplexed why Cuacuatli had deviated from the plan we had come up with, but Ozomatli was able to enlighten me. While I had spent the day in prayers to Xochipilli prior to joining the ixiptla of Huixtocihuatl before her worshipers, Cuacuatli had informed Ozomatli of his plan to take my place that evening instead of a slave as we had discussed and agreed upon.

As I have mentioned, he was a weak and effeminate individual who was unwanted by his tribe and selected by them as tribute so there was no reason for him to head north toward his people. He also had no skills nor interest in becoming a warrior, unlike Ozomatli who had been captured after a heroic battle against the Tenochca, nor any great skill in hunting so really had no future in heading south to join Ozomatli's people for whom war was ongoing and being a hunter expected of every man. The one thing he was good at was having congress with those of his own gender, which, in his mind made him an ideal messenger to be sent to Xochipilli.

Ozomatli had of course tried to talk him out of it, but he was resolute, and, we both had to agree in the end, it was probably the right decision for him. He would not have been happy coming with us. We could easily imagine him greeting Xochipilli with open arms and a seductive smile and sitting down and chatting with him as if they were equals, telling him of the adoration and devotion of his followers, and engaging him in a night filled with torrid sex and tender loving, the first of many. That image lightened our hearts and even brought a smile to our lips, and I found myself hoping with all my heart for Cuacuatli's sake, and may my own soul be damned. that there really was such a god.

We had planned on staying with the Tlaxcala only until we were able to outfit ourselves for the longer flight through Tenochca-held land to their enemies to the south, back to Ozomatli's people. The Tlaxcala were eager to help any enemy of their enemy and provided us with provisions beyond our expectations, which took time and was one reason our departure was delayed. The second reason we stayed two days longer than we expected came out of the generosity of our hearts and our genuine desire to help these proud and defiant peoples. Those Tlaxcala youth who were the most handsome of face and perfect of body knew they would be the ones selected for the next flower war, and so they worked especially hard at honing their skills as warriors in the hopes of preventing capture by defeating those who came seeking sacrificial victims, and if unable to do so, to die fighting them.

We understood such thinking and wished to help them. Ozomatli was a trained warrior, as was I in another life that was now so long ago I had difficulty remembering that person that I was, and so in the short time we were with the Tlaxcala we trained their youth in as many tricks as we knew to battle the Tenochca. That added to our esteem in which we were already held, and that we had been chosen to be priests of Xochipilli added still further to our esteem for he was also worshiped by these peoples.

And so we spent the day from sunrise to sunset with the prime of the Tlaxcala, young men in their teens and early twenties, in hand to hand battle, showing them how to use the spear and the mace to attack and to defend oneself, and how to position oneself to deliver one's opponent a fatal thrust of the knife without being a recipient oneself. These people also used a wooden-handled sword with an obsidian blade, which they called a macuahutl. Heavy and cumbersome, it was no match for my own sword, which they all admired and coveted, but being familiar with the heavier two-handed sword used by the Goths from the north lands, by some of the Mongols, I was able to demonstrate some techniques I had learned as a Mameluke soldier that were new to them, and I am sure would come as a surprise to their enemy. One youth who was especially skilled with the sword and highly motivated was a sixteen-year-old by the name of Tonahuitl who fenced tirelessly with me and when my arms grew weary and sore practiced knife-fighting with Ozomatli. Copper-skinned, his chest broad and his arms and thighs thick with muscle, with high, pronounced cheek bones and thick, sensuous lips and narrow, dark eyes with long, feathery lashes, engaging him in another sport between men came quickly to both of our minds, and, we discovered, knowing we were priests of Xochipilli, engaging us in that nighttime sport had crossed his mind also.

And so, on our fourth night with the Tlaxcala, we invited Tonahuitl to join us, and he did so willingly. Being young and virile, he was no stranger to the sport between men, nor, we discovered, was he inexperienced in the honey field, more than one young maiden eager to spread her legs for this strong, handsome warrior, but fortunately for us not frequent enough to satiate his lust. Like his approach to becoming a warrior, he was curious and eager to learn from our wider experience, and prurient ourselves, we were eager to teach him. Our intentions were obvious to the rest of the other young men with whom he lived, and with the rest of the tribe. All accepted our congress as natural for unmarried young men, an attitude I have found more and more frequent among these people and which has been most refreshing compared to the secrecy and bigotry of my homeland where such relationships were frowned upon and kept secret. The three of us kissed and embraced tentatively and self-consciously at first, and as we caressed each other we removed each others' breechclouts, our only article of clothing. As we caressed each other's buttocks and stroked each other's thighs our passions rose, as did our members, and we became more assertive.

When at last we laid down, Tonahuitl and I ended up lying in opposite directions facing each other so naturally we reached out for each other's still swelling members and began to caress them. Taking the initiative, I snuggled in closer and holding Tonahuitl's member by the base, I ran my tongue up his shaft from his balls to his glans, which like all of his tribe, was encased in his foreskin. I gently pulled it back now and ran my tongue along the sensitive stem below his bulb and along the rim itself, causing him to tremble with delight. He immediately ran his tongue along my exposed rim and the flesh below my bulb also and I inhaled sharply with the tingle of arousal that danced through my bulb. He cupped my stones and rolled them in their sack and I did likewise to him, his stones damp with his sweat, and as I inhaled I delighted in the smell their musk. Slipping my mouth over his bulb, I slowly eased my lips down his shaft and then tightening them, I drew my head back up, sucking on his member at the same time, and again he copied me. Meanwhile Ozomatli snuggled up behind Tonahuitl and pulling apart his buttocks licked his anus and forced his tongue into it, lubricating his opening with his spittle and then penetrating him.

The sixteen-year-old boy and I were hungrily sucking each other's cock by then and slipping our lips up and down each other's shaft and over each other's bulb, delighting in the thrill of arousal each time our own rim was assaulted and delighting in providing the same thrill. It was a hot, still night, and soon our bodies were beaded with sweat, adding the distinct scent of a man's perspiration to the musky fragrance of his stones. Ozomatli grasped Tonahuitl's hips tightly as he rammed his member in and out of the boy's rectum, and the two of them grunted and snorted with their exertion and with their pleasure. Elsewhere in the large, open building where all the young, single men slept came similar sounds as others satisfied their natural desires also. I was inhaling deeply and desperately now, filling my lungs with the sweat and musk scented air as I bobbed my head and sucked on the thick, throbbing member in my mouth, my own member growing numb.

All three of us were breathing deeply and irregularly as the tension rose in our loins, sweat trickling down from our armpits and along our ribs until at last the three of us erupted, my seed racing up the core of my cock and spurting out the tip with a burning delight as at the same time I felt a tremor along the underside of Tonahuitl's member and a breath later the first of his seed spurted into my mouth. I eagerly swallowed that sharp-tasting slime as he blasted spurt after spurt into my mouth, and he similarly eagerly drank my own slime. Meanwhile Ozomatli grasped Tonahuitl tightly as he filled the boy's rectum with his hot, thick seed.

After we caught our breaths, Ozomatli and Tonahuitl began to kiss and caress once again. As Ozomatli rolled over on his back, Tonahuitl rolled with him and straddled him, supporting himself on his elbows and knees above him and as they kissed Ozomatli reached down between their legs and grasping his cock and that of Tonahuitl he stroked both of them. Sitting beside them, I caressed Tonahuitl's buttocks and ran my tongue along his crack and wiggled it against his anus. Turning around so he was facing in the opposite direction, Tonahuitl again straddled Ozomatli and each of the two young men took the other's member in his mouth. As they began to suck, I approached Tonahuitl from behind and mounted him, his anus slick with Ozomatli's slime and making penetration easy. Grasping his smooth, compact buttocks, I began to pump my cock in and out of his tight, hot rectum and Ozomatli's slime as the two of them sucked eagerly on each other's member. Our sweating bodies glistened in the waning moonlight as once again we felt the pressure building up in our loins and as Ozomatli and Tonahuitl filled each other's mouth I added my seed to mix with Ozomatli's up sixteen-year-old Tonahuitl's rectum.

Having been up most of the night, we decided to stay one more day and when we left the next morning we bid Tonahuitl a fond farewell with the hopes that he would not be one of those captured in the next flower war. Leaving the Tlaxcala, we headed south back into the territory held by the Tenochca disguised as pochteca, long distance traveling merchants. They were small in number compared to farmers and craftsmen, but they formed an honorable occupation and one in which it would not be strange to find for two young men starting out in the business traveling together. The pochteca have a very important place in Tenochca society, communicating vital information across the empire and introducing and exchanging new goods, and new ideas, and often serving as spies. Just below the nobles in class, the Pochteca Teucnehnenqueh sell excess tribute, mainly food, clothing, feathers, even slaves, for the nobles and the warrior classes in the marketplace, the tianquiztli, or they take it to other parts of the empire for exchange. Some engage also in their own private trade at the same time. Others, the Pochteca Naualoztomeca, seek rare goods for themselves and function more often as spies than traders. Still others, the tlanamacac, operate outside of the pochteca guilds, producing and selling their own goods. The pochteca are economically and politically powerful and sometimes become so rich they surpass the lesser nobles and have to hide their riches in their guild halls and set out on missions late at night to avoid attention lest they incur the envy of the nobles.

So, it was a perfect disguise for two individuals attempting to escape from the Tenochca. We had taken some small and light items from the temple which we could trade, including nose and ear plugs, rings, combs and necklaces made of gold and of precious stones which had been stored away as gifts to Xochipilli many years ago and would never be missed, even, we were sure, by Xochipilli himself, and prior to our escape had traded some of Xochipilli's bulkier offerings for arrowheads and spear points, which were welcomed by the Tlaxcala. We now added the items given to us by the Tlaxcala including two large wicker baskets to carry our goods on our backs, the baskets having an ingenious band that looped around one's head which greatly lightened his burden. For the next ten days we followed the trails south, stopping early when we arrived at a settlement to trade and to exchange news and I was reminded of those joyful and innocent days I had spent so long ago as a trader's helper with the Ais trader and his son among the Tocobaga.

As back then, my skills with the panpipe and in story telling proved to be great assets, and were more often than not what we used in trade for a night's accommodation and food as many of the other items were not in high demand. Of course we kept our ears open for any news about the sacrifice of the Impersonator of Xochipilli but we heard nothing, which was no surprise as we were sure the priests would want to keep people from knowing what had really happened. On the sixth day we changed our identities from traders from Tenochtitlan to long distance merchants from Nojpetén, Ozomatli's home city, on our way back from trading with the Tenochca. Each night we prayed to Ekchuahm, the Mayan god of merchants, laying out three stones and sprinkling incense on them, and before them placing three flat stones in a triangle on which we placed a plate and burnt incense as we prayed for safe travel.

On our tenth day we entered the territory held by the Tzapot cah, whose name means inhabitants of the place of the sapote, a soft fruit of this country. It was here that I encountered the first of the massive, ancient ruins of what had to once have been a large and powerful people, their grand temples and palaces now crumbling and encroached by the surrounding jungle. I was suddenly reminded of the drugged vision I had about such crumbling ruins and being chased, and I looked about fearfully, but the jungles were deserted. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I looked up at these huge edifices and wondered who had lived in them, and why they had left, and where they had gone. From the state of disrepair, I figured this particular city, for the ruins spread out over an area that had to have been at one time a great center equal to the size of Lisbon, to have been abandoned probably five hundred years ago, back when Portugal was a Spanish fiefdom and the Spaniards were beginning to repel the heathen Moor invaders from our land. It was an eery feeling to be walking past these abandoned ruins of a forgotten, long-dead people and I was glad to be out of them. (1)

A day's walk from the ruins was the city of Mitla, a ceremonial center with towering temples, a huge plaza, and imposing palaces with grand courtyards built on the valley floor, the city surrounded by leagues of farmland to support the inhabitants. It served, we were told, as the gateway between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and as the Tzapot cah's main religious center. We learned over a refreshing cup of xocolatl that nobles buried here became the "cloud people" who intercede with the gods for mortals. Tensions were high and we were initially regarded with great suspicion until Ozomatli convinced them that we were neither Tenochca nor Mixtec spies. Due to the tensions and dangers, traders were infrequent of late and once our identities as Mayan traders were accepted, we were made most welcome and room was provided for us in the lodge for single men. The next morning we of course visited the temple of the Tzapot cah god of merchants where we left a generous donation, and from there we attended the temple of their high priest, the Uija-tào, who was held in the same awe and respect by the natives of this nation as faithful Catholics revere the Pope of Rome. He was an elderly man and most eager to hear of any news outside of the city and so readily gave us an audience, and in return we learned much about the politics of the city and the state of things in the surrounding countryside.

We had no desire to remain with these peoples, but to not spend some time trading in their market and meeting with the city's top merchants would have been suspicious. A couple evenings after our arrival, one of the men from the lodge where we were sleeping approached us and hesitantly and apologetically inquired if we were ira'muxe. I did not know the word but Ozomatli smiled and replied that it was a logical conclusion and yes, we did prefer males over females, but we were not married to each other. I was so taken by surprise by the question and the reply that I stared at the two of them wide-eyed and open-mouthed like some naive bumpkin.

That I was taken aback was evident and the young man who had asked assumed it was because he had thought perhaps we were a couple, and Ozomatli laughed and covered my ignorance up by explaining that I was from a small rural village and naive about such matters. Muxe he explained to me later when we were alone meant one who is male-female, who is called mayate by his people and who takes the passive role in congress between two men, and who can, like the ira'muxe, become a man's spouse. It was like, I realized, the poranacu of the Abalahci, Ocale and Timucua, and the hoobuks of the Choctaw. I thought of Muqbey of the Ocale who was both a poranacu and a Healer, which I did not realize at the time we were together was unusual to be both and one reason for the high esteem with which he was held for one so young. Those had been pleasant days and I smiled as I thought back to our time together.

The reason for the inquiry, I discovered, was because a number of others, both male and female, found the two of us attractive and wanted to approach us but figured we were a couple and unavailable. Needless to say, Ozomatli's reply was a disappointment to the distaff half but greeted joyously by the other half. Word quickly spread and while the others were joined that evening by aspiring wives and those who provided such services for pay, we were courted by young boys, either eager to expand their experiences or just curious. The thirteen-year-old boy who ended up joining me that night, Chac Coceeh, whose name meant Water Vine, was one of the latter and he eagerly explained their ways to me. Among the Tzapot cah, boys begin having sex with other boys and with older males at the onset of puberty and they continued to do so until they married a woman, around the age of twenty, though they often continued having congress with other males even after marriage, especially with good friends. Men that marry other men with one of them taking the passive role of a woman and the other the dominant role of the man are called ira'muxe and are thought of no less than a man who marries a woman, or a man who had congress with both.

He asked if this was not true of the Maya Itza, Ozomatli's people, to which I replied that I was not completely sure as I was only traveling with him and was actually from a far away tribe, one in which it was not customary for boys to have congress with other boys, and even less so with men, and that marriage was strictly an arrangement between a man and a woman. He found that most strange and unnatural, which caused me to smile as that was exactly how I felt about the customs of his people. Later, when I had time to think on it, it also gave me cause to wonder what was normal and what was not, why some decided one way and others decided the other, and how one decided which it should be. There was, however, nobody to discuss the matter with. It was the type of question Uncle would have loved to engage in and could spend hours doing so, sometimes even arguing the opposite to how he felt to challenge my opinion and make me think, and thinking of him and the hours we could spend in such discussions gave me a twang of great loneliness.

Ozomatli was joined that night by another thirteen-year-old by the name of Ek-Cab, whose name meant Black Earth and while I lay down with Chac Coceeh he and the boy lay down beside us. The two boys were evidently close friends and had no concerns about having congress with another male in the other's presence. Chac Coceeh was a good-looking boy, his body beginning to develop the definition that comes with puberty but still having the rounded contours and softness of boyhood, the tiny patch of crotch hair and silky wisps of underarm hair evidence that puberty had only recently arrived for him. A routine of hunting and fishing for food for himself and the rest of the tribe had hardened the muscles of his arms and legs. Engaging in this nighttime sport was also new to him and his movements were awkward and self-conscious, not out of any sense of shame or embarrassment, but out of an effort to do well and to not be a disappointment.

Of course there was no way for him to know and no way to assure him, but it was impossible for a good-looking, willing boy such as he to be a disappointment, certainly not to me. As his hands awkwardly and hesitantly caressed my chest and slipped down to my buttocks in his effort to arouse me, that very awkwardness and hesitancy caused my member to rise up in interest. I similarly caressed him, first with my fingers and then with my lips, and the delightfully fresh scent of boy excited me even more. I reached over and taking his partially aroused member in my right hand, I slowly stroked it, gently pulling back his foreskin to expose his knob, which as I suspected had been freshly cleaned, these peoples not only addicted to bathing but ensuring every part of their body was washed from behind their ears and between their toes to under their foreskins. I slowly eased his foreskin back up over his bulb and then back down and I was rewarded with his little root quickly swelling. He hesitantly reached over and similarly stroked mine and I answered his unasked question, explaining that among my tribe it was customary to remove ones' hood, causing him to quiver with the thought.

Being side by side, I could not help watching Ozomatli and Ek-Cab who were similarly engaged. He was a slightly chubbier boy, retaining more of his baby fat and roundness, but like all members of these tribes inhabiting the Indies he was neither weak nor overweight. I noticed that he and Chac Coceeh exchanged the occasional smile, delighted to be sharing in this nighttime pleasure. Chac Coceeh of course let me take the lead, willing to please me in whichever way I desired. By this time his little noodle was stiff and projecting eagerly up above his tiny eggs, about the same length and thickness as my thumb, and I could not resist going down on it. Feeling that slender, warm noodle between my lips and lying on my tongue, I closed my eyes with delight and gently sucked on it as I eased my lips up and down the shaft and over his bulb. The boy quivered and inhaled sharply with delight and when I twisted around so that we were laying facing each other but in opposite directions, I was delighted to feel his hot breath against my crotch and then a pair of smooth, soft lips slip over my swollen cock.

He bobbed his head up and down quickly and sucked deeply on my member causing me to reach down to slow him and I whispered that he did not have to be so quick in that I would be satisfying his thirst soon enough. His lips curled and his eyes sparkled with that comment and he immediately slowed down. I noticed that Ozomatli and Ek-Cab had assumed the same position, and the sight of the bright-eyed young boy sucking on Ozomatli's stiff cock, his lips tightly wrapped about the older eighteen-year-old boy's cock and his cheeks sunken in, caused a quiver of arousal to ripple up my cock and Chac Coceeh was rewarded with a dollop of my sweet, clear pre-juice which he quickly savored and swallowed.

I cannot say which was the greater pleasure, sucking on the thirteen-year-old's slender cocklet and bringing him pleasure, or being sucked by him and having him bring me pleasure. Of all the ways a man and boy can please each other, sucking on each other's member at the same time is my favorite. There is just something about seeing a smooth-cheeked boy with his cheeks sunken in and his lips locked tightly about a stiff cock, his eyelids closed and his long, feathery eyelashes quivering, or his lids parted and his eyes staring dreamily and sightlessly, that causes a sweet, painful ache of lust deep in my loins. Many a babe finds delight in sucking on his thumb, and to me sucking on a young boy's slender cock, feeling the rigid flesh throbbing between my lips, and knowing the aching, pounding delight of his little cocklet brings me an equal delight.

As the thirteen-year-old began to breathe deeply and irregularly and to tremble, I told him to do to me what I did to him and clamped my lips below his bulb and ceased sucking. I closed my eyes and treasured the pleasure between my legs and the pleasure of knowing I was bringing him the same pleasure, one that for him was still mysterious and new. I lay like that for a long time before finally resuming, his breathing having returned to normal and his trembling having stopped, and once I began to suck on his cocklet and slip my lips up and down its length, he also resumed and I felt the tug of his breath on my swollen member as he sucked on it and I inhaled deeply as his lips slipped down my shaft and then slowly eased back up and over the rim of my bulb. Beside us Ozomatli and Ek-Cab were still sucking each other and I knew they too must have paused.

I cannot adequately explain the pleasure of having congress with a boy of that age. There is something about knowing the intense pleasure the act brings to one so young that intensifies one's own pleasure. The novelty and mystery of producing and spending one's seed makes each time new and a delight, and that too makes one's own ejaculation so much more pleasurable. Engaging in that very special act with another couple doubles that pleasure. So, it was no surprise that once again the four of us reached that ultimate peak, nor that not one of us wanted to delay any longer. As the four of us began to breathe deeper and more erratically it was evident how we were all feeling and that heightened our pleasure even more. Finally Chac Coceeh mumbled that he could hold back no longer and I mumbled back that nor could I. Heartbeats later I felt his little noodle quiver and his thin, watery seed begin to squirt into my mouth. The boy quivered violently and whimpered with his release and I eagerly swallowed his young seed as I felt a twang deep in my groin and my own seed gushed up the core of my now numb cock.

I quickly filled the boy's mouth in my lust and he desperately tried to swallow my thick, creamy discharge, but I came too quickly and copiously and my seed oozed out of the corners of his mouth and down around his chin. From the slurping and gulping sounds coming from beside me, I knew that Ozomatli and Ek-Cab were discharging their seed also. The four of us inhaled deeply and quickly with pleasure, sucking in the damp air scented with our sweat and our spilt seed. Squirt after squirt blasted from my cock causing the opening to burn with that sweet pleasure as my numb cock throbbed and seemed to swell even more. The boy eagerly sucked on my swollen flesh and gulped down my thick, warm slime as his slender cocklet continued to throb out his youthful seed. I felt his hand, small and hot, reach out and squeeze my buttocks and he began to jerk his hips to and fro, fucking my mouth in his desperation and delight. Finally, our stones drained, the four of us separated and we glanced at each other, our lips curled with satisfaction and pleasure and coated with a thin film of our juice, a glistening ring of slime about the chins of the two boys, and their eyes bright with lust.

We rested for a while and then we encouraged the two boys to engage in oral sex with each other while we watched. The two boys were young and prurient and did so eagerly and without shame, each eagerly taking the other's cock in his mouth and sucking on it with no more hesitation than a babe sucks on his thumb. The sight of those two naked, lustful, thirteen-year-old boys sucking on each other's swollen little member soon had Ozomatli and me erect and the two of us reached over and each taking the other's member in his hand we began to stroke each other as we watched the two boys. Soon we four were once again ready to release our seed and we watched with delight as the two boys reached their orgasm.

In his excitement Chac Coceeh pulled back his hips and his cock slipped out of Ek-Cab's mouth, resulting in him spraying his friend in the face with his thin, watery seed until once again Ek-Cab was able to get his mouth over the knob of the spouting fountain. The boys finally separated, and seeing the two of us sitting there masturbating each other, they quickly joined us and eagerly knelt before us, Chac Coceeh before Ozomatli and Ek-Cab before me, and the two of us rewarded the boys with a third mouth of fresh slime, Ozomatli pounding my cock and me squirting my seed into Ek-Cab's eager mouth and me directing Ozomatli's thick, creamy seed between the parted lips of Chac Coceeh.

We were not yet satiated, and again after a brief rest, we began to arouse each other once more, this time not in pairs but as a foursome, at one time Ozomatli and me caressing each other and the two boys arousing each other, another with me and Ek-Cab fondling each other's sensitive eggs and nibbling on each other's nipples while Ozomatli and Chac Coceeh caressed and kissed, and then switching so that all four of us were entangled and caressing and fondling each other. Ozomatli lay on his back and Chac Coceeh straddled him in the opposite direction, each taking the other's stiff cock in his mouth. I knelt behind Chac Coceeh and fingered his butthole and then bent over and licked it and wormed my tongue inside as Ek-Cab knelt beside me and took my member in his mouth and basted it with his hot, bubbly drool.

I then grasped Chac Coceeh's hips and pulled his buttocks apart and Ek-Cab guided my spittle-drenched member to the thirteen-year-old boy's beautiful asshole. I am well-endowed as I have mentioned many times, and the boy was young and inexperienced, but he was eager and I was skilled and it was not the first time Ek-Cab had assisted one male to penetrate another. Ever so slowly I eased forward, my bulb slowly stretching open Chac Coceeh's anus until at last it popped inside. With great delight and anticipation, I slowly eased my member up the thirteen-year-old boy's rectum until my hairs were pressing against his smooth, naked buttocks.

Chac Coceeh and Ozomatli continued to suck each other, bobbing their heads up and down and sucking deeply on each other's rigid cock, as I began to ease my cock in and out of Chac Coceeh's tight little asshole. Sinking my cock in as far as I could, I delighted in his tightness and the heat and moistness of his rectum, and then I slowly drew my hips back, easing my cock out of his body until my bulb was stretching his anal muscle, and then I sank my cock back up his body. The boy tightened his anal muscle and grasped my cock as I withdrew, and then relaxed as I sank back up his rectum, evidently having been fucked before, though at his young age I suspect the act being as new and exciting as oral sex was. At the same time I cocked my head and took his best friend's cock in my mouth and began to suck on it, and Ek-Cab reached out and grasped my shoulders for support. And so the four of us sought our satisfaction for a third time.

The gibbous moon shone in under the thatched roof of our building, casting shadows over our naked, glistening bodies, our flesh beaded with sweat in the hot night and our exertion. Night creatures called out to each other, warning each other of approaching predators or seeking mates, oblivious of the four humans rutting in the night, or perhaps some were rutting with each other and others were watching us from the shadows. Our own companions surrounding us were breathing the deep, rhythmic breaths of deep sleep, others were snorting and panting with their own rutting with the nubile young maidens, and a few, I suspect, were stroking themselves as they watched us.

Once again I felt the pressure in my loins mounting and I closed my eyes and thrust my hips to and fro, delighting in having my aching member grasped by the hot, eager flesh of a young, prurient, thirteen-year-old boy and delighting in having the slender, pulsating member of another teenage boy in my mouth. Chac Coceeh and Ozomatli snorted and gasped as they sucked on each others cock and then began to gulp and slurp as they began to drink each other's hot seed. I arched my back and quivered as I began to fill Chac Coceeh's rectum with my seed as Ozomatli filled his mouth, and my thirteen-year-old partner began to fill my mouth with his youthful seed. I closed my eyes with delight and concentrated on the pleasures of the moment, forgetting past sorrows and worries about the future.

The next day I went fishing with Chac Coceeh in a nearby stream, a break from my bartering, and at the end of the day we took some of our catch to his parents. I could see where the boy got his good looks, both of his parents being exceptionally good looking also. His father, thirty-five, a mason, had just returned from working on one of the many temples being built. He was stripped to the waist and covered in rock dust from his work, his chest broad and muscular and his biceps large and hard from his daily toil. His mother had spent her day working in the fields and the hot sun and dry winds were taking their toll on her complexion, but she was still a fine-looking woman. They welcomed the fresh fish to add to their evening repast, having been too busy to eat earlier, and invited us to join them.

As we washed up at the communal baths along with a dozen others, male and female, of all ages, Chac Coceeh also introduced me to his father's best friend, a carpenter by trade, who had also just returned from working on the same temple and was washing up before returning to his wife and family. The two older men talked as we bathed and I glanced about me, unaccustomed to males and females stripping and bathing openly in each other's presence, and I found myself self-consciously trying to conceal my nakedness with my hand whenever a member of the opposite sex passed by, though none of them paid me any attention, even the young maidens close to my age, my preference in sexual partners evidently having spread through the tribe. As we dried off, Chac Coceeh whispered to me that his father and the man he was talking to were best friends, and at first I wondered why he was telling me that again until I saw the suggestive look in his eyes.

"Do they still…"

He nodded with a smile and I looked at the two with different eyes. Chac Coceeh's parents had five children ranging in ages from thirteen to two, Chac Coceeh being the oldest. As I sat there in their home and shared their evening meal with them I felt strange. They did not ask how it was that I, an eighteen-year-old pochteca, had spent the day fishing with their thirteen-year-old son and I got the distinct impression that they knew, and that they knew what we had done the night before. I glanced down at my meal self-consciously, and each time either addressed me I spoke to my plate rather than look up at them, or gave them the most fleeting of glances so as not to offend. How could the two of them so openly condone their son having congress with a stranger five years older than him?

I could not possibly imagine Father or Mother condoning me having congress with other boys regardless of their age, and sitting down at our supper table with them besides. Nor could I possible imagine Father having congress with one of his boyhood friends as casually and as openly as he did with Mother, his friend having children of his own. I could not imagine it, but I must confess that in my perversity and wickedness I could not help picturing Father supporting my congress with a teenage boy, say Vasco, the grandson of the steward of my estate with whom I had been having sex, and inviting him into his home, and having congress himself with one of his close and oldest friends, say Juan Caprello, the shipwright. Having lived so long with these people, I found the ideas erotic, so erotic my irreverent cock began to swell beneath my loincloth. As I sat there in conversation with this man and woman, my cock rapidly rising, I could not help recalling the torrid sex I had the previous night and early this morning with their thirteen-year-old son and my cock began swelling all the faster. That I could think such lurid thoughts about their son in their presence was a sign of my depravity.

On our way back to the quarters for single men, we dropped off the rest of our catch with Chac Coceeh's uncle who it quickly became obvious was an ira'muxe. As we sat there talking to him and his partner I again pictured me and Vasco sitting down and talking to Uncle, and Uncle sitting there and squeezing the knee of his partner, knowing full well that Vasco and I were having the same perverted relationship as he and his partner and though I felt my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end with the thought, it also caused my member to stir. It was a perverted, profane thought, but I could not wait to get back to our dwelling and engage my new thirteen-year-old friend in another night like we had just had such was the depth of my depravity.

After spending eight days trading with these peoples, we once again packed up our trade goods, now replaced or supplemented by goods obtained from the Tzapot cah, which included many items of turquoise and jade which made up a large part of their trade, and continued on our way, heading south and east along the highlands. It was hot and it rained every day. It took us ten days, stopping early to trade in the larger centers, finally arriving at the Maya Tzotzil, the bat people, so called because their main deity was represented as a stone bat. We of course stopped at the temple to Ekchuahm and prayed before his statue. He was represented as an older man, his body painted black, with a headband, corded hamper, and pouch, and was the patron of the beyom, the traveling man. Here was a loose federation of peoples, the Tzotzil, the Tzelta, the Tojolabal, and the Chol, all united in religion and language but each a competing community. We traded for quetzal feathers, amber and salt, spending five days in all before striking east for Ozomatli's people.

With Ozomatli growing more and more excited each day, we skirted around the land of the Maya Kajache, a small but poor empire of at least ten towns, the capital of which was Mazatlan, and continued south and east to the Maya Itza and their capital of Nojpetén on an island in Lake Petén Itza, the home of Ozomatli and the enemy of the Kajache. As we approached the city, Ozomatli informed me it was divided into four quarters according to four main lineage groups who ruled as a council of four. Like all of the cities I have encountered, on the outskirts bordering the vast fields were the simple homes of the peasants, the Macehualob. Progressing toward the center were the homes of those of increasing wealth and importance, the homes of the leading men of the city, and then the palaces of the chief and priests and in the very center the temples, plazas, ball courts, and marketplace. Most cities also have a supply of water, either a large well within the city or a nearby cavern, but this was unnecessary with Nojpetén being in the center of a lake. The Maya Itza, Ozomatli informed me, was once a powerful, united nation but was now ruled by the warrior class and divided into competing and warring factions. (2)

As we approached Ozomatli's home his joy and excitement reminded me of my return to my home in Viana do Castelo and I knew exactly how he felt and I was happy for him, but that happiness was short-lived. To his great sorrow, Ozomatli found that during the eight months he had been gone his father had been killed in one of those wars and his two brothers had been captured and were either dead or slaves. The same had been assumed about him and his mother and sisters and one remaining younger brother were overjoyed by his return, but it was not the joyful reunion he had expected. His mother having not yet remarried, welcomed the two of us into her home, Ozomatli assuming the role of hunter to provide food for her and the family's relatives and friends, and me continuing in my role as a traveling merchant and their returning son's best friend.

I have said that Ozomatli was shorter than average, but I discovered that in fact he was taller than most men of his tribe, most men being about fifteen hands tall, two and a half hands shorter than myself. Like many of the peoples of this land they purposefully flattened the foreheads of their children and they painted and tattooed their bodies after marriage, for the men the more their body was tattooed the more prestigious since the process was most painful. Because of that, I was beheld with considerable respect by my appearance alone as a result of my tattoos. The women also tattoo their bodies but only above the waist, and not their breasts. Like the men, they pierce their ears and the septum in the nostrils and wear rings or plugs in them. Many also file their teeth into sharp points, which I also imagine must be painful, but for the women particularly it is a mark of beauty. Also like most of the peoples of this land they had straight black hair, these people wearing it in a plait which they wound around their head with the end of the braid hanging behind and the men wearing a disc-shaped mirror in their hair in the front. Among these people was a very pronounced fold over their eyes which gave me much hope, for I was told this was a characteristic of the people of the Great Khan, though to my disappointment, these people gave me the same blank stare when I inquired after him. Both men and women rub their bodies with a red ointment along with a sticky tree gum that lasts for a long time and is most odorous despite their use of perfumes to disguise the odor.

Also like the others I have met, the men wear only loincloths, these a hand broad and hanging in front and behind, the ends embroidered and decorated with feathers, and laced sandals of hemp or deerskin. Depending on the weather, they also wear a square mantle over their shoulders which also serves as a blanket when sleeping. The women wear what I can only describe as a wide sack open at the sides and extending to their thighs and fastened below their armpits. Also like the previous tribes I have met, both men and women wash constantly in public baths to the point of being an obsession, stepping out of their scant clothing and exposing themselves without shame, and yet despite this obsession with bathing appear to be healthy. In that regard for the past twenty-one months I have been copying their behavior for they took great offense if I did not, and to my surprise I have suffered no illness, and indeed, find myself feeling refreshed after bathing. Another strange custom of theirs is to wash their hands and mouth after eating, which I find tedious and intrusive on my time, but which I also practice so as not to offend my hosts.

At the time of our arrival, Ozomatli's uncle's oldest son was about to be married. As was the custom of these peoples, the boy's father had sought the wife for his son, it being considered ill mannered to seek a wife yourself. The boy was twenty-one and his bride twenty. The boy, I learned, had a seventeen-year-old male partner with whom he had been having sexual relations for the past five years and upon the marriage his partner was to get a young, thirteen-year-old boy of his own who would perform the same role as would a wife until such time as he himself married a woman. Unlike many of the other tribes, I understood that the women of this tribe, and of most Maya, remained chaste until their wedding night. The practice of mothers and fathers providing their sons pubescent boys, usually slaves or the sons of peasants, I learned was widely practiced among the Maya, and ensured that the boys had their sexual urges satisfied while keeping future wives pure. It was, I thought, a most peculiar practice, but as I dwelled on it, it made marvelous sense, and I could see great advantages of such a custom over the practice back home. (3)

Ozomatli's uncle was an influential noble on the city council and a renown warrior. The bride he had selected for his son was the daughter of another influential noble and proven warrior. The marriage would not only unite the two families, but would unite two powerful factions on the four-member council. I was amazed that marriages for political reasons and power would be found among these savages just as it was common among the privileged in civilized countries. For the boy it did not matter for what he wanted was a bitch who would bear him strong and healthy children and the girl's mother and sisters were proven in that regard. That it was providing him a future power base politically was an added bonus. As for his bride, she could expect to continue living in the comfortable and noble style she was accustomed to, her future husband being rich and famous, and spreading her legs for him and bearing his children was what was expected of any woman. Everyone was happy.

On the day of the wedding, the first day of the third month, Sip, by their calendar, August 25 in the year of our Lord one thousand four hundred and ninety-four by my calculation, there was much excitement. All of the important and wealthy people from two lineages in the city were invited to the affair, and many from the other two lineages who hoped to benefit from this union of husband and wife came with gifts and sycophantic praise and good wishes. Ozomatli's uncle owned a large mansion near the center of the city in the circle just outside the palaces of the chief and his relatives and the palaces and temples of the priests. Row upon row of tables had been set up for food for the guests, and there was every manner of food available with venison and assorted fowl roasting on spits to baked fish and fresh fruit and vegetables piled on the tables with plates of chiles and hot, spicy pastes and fillings for their tortillas and tamales and plates of baked ants and grasshoppers and raw mushrooms. Large jugs of chilled, frothy bitter xocolatl, sour octli, cacahuaxochiti, fruit juices and a fermented honey were set out on the tables along with sinicuichi, the elixir of the sun.

Musicians set up at one end of the courtyard which was festooned with ribbons and fresh flowers. Included among the musical instruments were small drums which were hit with the hand, cylindrical, hollowed log drums which were struck with a tree gum tipped stick, trumpets of hollow wood attached to twisted gourds, whistles of cane and deer bones, a turtle shell which was struck with the hand and emitted a strange, eery howl, conches, and reed flutes. Standing before several hundred family and friends, the bride and groom, dressed in their finest loincloths and mantles and wearing their best jewelry were pronounced man and wife, followed by long-winded speeches on both sides attempting to impress the other and wishing the happy couple much happiness and many children. I could not help but glance over at the groom's boy-wife, also dressed in his finest, and the flushed, downy-cheeked pubescent boy beside him who had to be his intended bride. Ozomatli and I were dressed in our finest of course, wearing some of the gold and precious gems from Xochipilli.

For my part I played a tune for the couple on my panpipe and later for the entertainment of the guests, music unheard of until then and garnering myself much praise and the father of the groom much esteem for providing such a wonder. Ozomatli and I drank too much, out of relief having escaped from the Tenochca and making it safely to his people, and out of grief, Ozomatli grieving for his father and brothers, me grieving for my family and my homeland which I have come to realize I will never see again. The two of us sang for the newly married couple and for the guests, somewhat drunkenly but our voices blending nicely, a couple fertility songs we had learned as noviciates of Xochipilli, and myself singing a solo in my own language, a vulgar ditty I had learned from old Three-finger Duarte which fortunately nobody could understand but whose lively tune had everyone tapping their feet.

The dancing and feasting went long into the night but Ozomatli and I excused ourselves early for a pair of young men and drunkenly staggered back to his parent's home, both of us thinking of our missing families and me thinking of weddings of my cousins that I had attended and the similarities to those and the one I had just witnessed despite the thousands of leagues apart between my family and Ozomatli's. I wondered what God would think of the ceremony I had just attended and what he would think of the groom's boy-wife and his new bride. I could imagine the look on Father Francisco's face when I related this adventure to him which caused me to chuckle and Ozomatli to look at me curiously.

He asked what I had found amusing but I could not begin to explain to him. Instead I asked him if the same god who witnessed the marriage of his cousin and his bride was the same god who had witnessed the marriage of his cousin and his boy-wife, to which he replied of course it was, as if it were a silly question. I asked if the same god presided over the marriage of a man and woman and over the marriage of ira'muxe. He stepped back and looked at me curiously, and then asked if I was considering marrying him. I laughed and said why not, he was a good fuck, and he laughed and punched me in the arm and said I had too much octli to drink, to which I replied that it was most likely the xocolatl because I was feeling strangely horny. He replied that I was always horny, and that I was the only one he knew that wore the symbol for fertility about my neck. I considered explaining Saint Christopher and his cross to him but instead I leaned over and kissed him.

We did not make it back to his mother's home that night. We found a dense copse of trees, the courtyard of some noble or perhaps a corner where the surrounding jungle had invaded into the city, and stripped off our clothes and made love to each other. He called me a prurient ah top chun, a sodomite, and I did not deny it. I took the role of the ah top it, the active partner, tecuilonti in Nahuatl, and he took the role of the ix pen, the passive partner. I do not remember much of it, other than the deep desire I had to mount him. He sucked on my cock and drooled over it, coating it with his spittle, and I parted his buttocks and wormed my tongue into his anus and blew my spittle up his rectum, and he then lay on his back and spread and raised his legs and I mounted him face to face, penetrating him with my first attempt.

I lay there with me inside him and kissed him on the cheeks, on the eyelids, on the lips. I gyrated my hips, easing my flesh in and out of his, delighting in the salty taste of his lips, his honey-scented breath, the heat and moisture of his rectum. I fucked him slowly, relishing the contact of our naked bodies. It was not the hot, frenzied lust I had felt for Chac Coceeh, nor like any other congress I could remember. I said we had made love, for that was what it was, something more than lust, something more that just physical sex. Was it better? I do not know. I was drunk. All I know was it was good, and when at last we clenched each other and shot our seed, mine up his rectum and his spraying his belly and chest and mine, hot and wet and sticky, I loved him more than any person I had ever had congress with.

I do not know how long we laid there, each of us lost in his own thoughts, and now I have no idea what those thoughts were other than I had a feeling of great peace and contentment. We reversed our roles then, me laying on my back and spreading my legs and taking the role of the ix pen and he straddling me and taking the role of the ah top it. Again I remember little other than laying there and being penetrated and thinking how great it felt to be penetrated by another man, to feel him inside me, hard and strong and powerful, and how only a man can really appreciate and understand what it was like to be penetrated. I remember the dizzy feeling as the blood drained from my head and entered my penis, causing it to swell until it felt like it was about to burst out of its skin.

I remembered the burning itch of my anus as Ozomatli's cock pumped in and out of my hole, and the twangs of sharp arousal each time his knob pressed past that sensitive spot deep up a man's rectum, that spot that was proof that God meant a man to be fucked by another man, for there could be no other reason for Him to have created such a spot unreachable by woman. I remember thinking how great it would be to be a woman and to be fucked by a man and to bear his children for him, except if I was then I would never be able to do the penetrating, which was just as enjoyable. Better, I decided, to be a man and to lust after other men.

It was with that thought that I felt his mighty cock throb inside me and his hot, thick seed spurt deeper up my rectum, filling me with his life-giving juices, and like he had, I spilt my seed, my hot, creamy juice spurting out of my cock with a burning pleasure, striking my chest and my stomach in thick, creamy gobs, striking his smooth chest and his pert nipples with my life-giving cream, anointing the two of us, baptizing us and blessing us as man-woman, ah top it and ix pen, fuckee and fucker. I remember the two of us embracing and kissing, I remember inhaling his sweet breath and filling my lungs with the breath of his lungs, our naked bodies pressing against each other and glued together by my hot, sticky seed, his stiff cock still deep up my rectum, basking in the juices from his body.

Neither of us spoke of that night. The next day we went about our business, me in the marketplace trading my goods, Ozomatli off in the jungle searching for food. On the sixth day of Sip the population honored the priests, physicians, and sorcerers with prayers to their gods accompanied by the sacrifice of a dozen slaves in the same manner as the Tenochca, followed by feasting and dancing, reminding me of the brutal savagery of these peoples in the midst of splendors that surely rivaled Eden. The following day was in honor of their hunters. Ozomatli got drunk, we roasted rabbit on a spit, and took the two fourteen-year-old boys who had killed the rabbits to our cot.

They were the best of buddies and in high spirits from their kill that day and the praise and honors bestowed upon them as young hunters, and from too much octli, the fermented sap from the maguey. Viscous and with a sour yeast-like taste, the milk-white sap went down easily after a couple drinks. Having competed against each other and proven themselves as hunters, the two boys now competed against each other to prove who was the more manly, by seeing who could fuck the most furiously and squirt his seed the soonest. So Ozomatli and I dropped to our elbows and knees side by side and the two mighty hunters mounted us, their slender cocks rock hard and itching. They penetrated us easily in their teenage lust and grasping our hips they thrust their members in and out of our bodies rapidly with only one thought in mind, their own pleasure. Their lust was contagious and the two of us quickly became stiff. The four of us grunted and snorted without care who heard or what they thought, the boys glancing at each other with leers and pride, their bulbs itching and the ache to release their seed doubling with each thrust. They came quickly and so great was their lust that Ozomatli and I squirted forth our seed also, spraying the mats beneath us much to the delight of the two boys who credited their masculinity for our arousal.

Unsatiated, the two boys switched partners and the boy who had fucked Ozomatli now sank his stiff member up my rectum lubricated by his best buddy's seed and began to fuck me as furiously as he had fucked Ozomatli while the boy who had fucked me now began thrusting his hips to and fro behind Ozomatli. The boys were virile and young and they grasped our members and stroked them, eager to be the first to make us squirt a second time. Being roughly fucked by this naked, proud young warrior was erotic and I focused on the pleasure throbbing between my legs and the pleasure throbbing up my rectum, my anus and the rim of my bulb both burning with that sweet pain as once again I felt the pressure developing deep in my groin until at last my seed raced up the core of my numb cock and sprayed my sleeping mat a second time. As my seed spurted out of my cock I felt the teenage boy's hot seed spurting up my rectum, joining that of his buddy.

Their heads spinning with the spending of their seed and the effects of the octli, not accustomed to the drink as youth were seldom given intoxicating beverages, the two boys knelt before us and we presented our cocks to them and the two slipped their lips over our swollen members and began to suck on them as they eased their lips up and down our shafts. Watching these two intoxicated, lust-driven teenage boys sucking on our cocks caused a surge of lust to race through my veins and soon the boy before me was drinking another milk-white and bitter juice as his best friend gulped down the offering of Ozomatli.

The following day the fishermen of the village were honored with another night of drinking, feasting and dancing, and I was beginning to wonder when these people did any work. Exhausted and drained from the previous night, Ozomatli and I went to bed alone that night. As I lay there listening to others about me satisfying their urges, I thought about life here with the Maya Itza and what I was to do. I was content and safe here, and I had nowhere else to go, having given up on my search for the Great Khan and having concluded I would never again see my dear Portugal. On the other hand, I had no reason to remain there either, finding the role of merchant boring, and quickly running out of things to trade. One day followed the next and each night I found myself asking myself the same questions. And then one night, a week after our night with the two boy hunters, the words of Uncle Paolo came to mind.

"Home is safe and familiar, but it can be boring too. You miss the excitement of seeing things you have never seen before, having new experiences, even the danger and unpleasant experiences that come from exploring the unknown. Do not deny it, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. Travelling is in your blood, Nico, as it is in your father's, and in mine. Home barely more than a week and you are anxious to be off at sea again and exploring new lands again."

The next morning I informed Ozomatli that I intended on continuing my travels, heading farther south in search of new discoveries. To my delight, unhappy with his new life here, he announced that he would join me. We left that very day.

Chapter 16
Maya of the South – Traders

Nico and Ozomatli travel south to the K'iche' Kingdom as traders and then to Iximche, the capital of the neighboring Maya Kaqchjikel Kingdom to trade surplus tribute for a noble. Returning to Q'umarkaj they take slaves to the Mam Maya where they engage in two phallic worship ceremonies.

Characters: head boy Jaguar Pup (13 yo); slave boy (7 yo); unnamed Poqoman (14 to 44 yo)

Fall was setting in and the rain beginning to let up. Vines were heavy with wild berries and fruit and the crops were ready for harvesting. It was a busy time of year and a joyful one – it had been a good growing season. The land we travelled through was called Ulumil cuz yetel ceh, the land of the turkey and the deer, reminding me of the Holy Book which promised to deliver the faithful to the land of milk and honey for this truly was such a land, lush and thick with bountiful crops and game throughout the year. Sometimes we traveled on wide, well-worn paths connecting the larger centers and evidently frequently traveled and at other times we followed narrow, twisting paths that had to be animal trails, constantly heading south and west, using the sun and the constellations for our guides. We traveled steadily for twelve days, stopping only to sleep and to trade, Ozomatli's uncle having generously replenished our supply of trade goods in exchange for a couple gold plates and bejewelled drinking cups from Xochipilli's storerooms. At the end of the twelfth day, the seventh day of their third month, Sotz, we arrived at Q'umarkaj, the capital city of the K'iche'. (1)

Like Nojpetén, the city was governed by a council of four lords but at the moment, as often happens, one man had become more powerful and the others had become his advisors. Like all the other tribes I have encountered, there was a strict class system, which seems to be the natural order in all nations as God would have it, civilized and uncivilized, Christian and heathen, for without having leaders and followers, nobles and peasants, freemen and slaves, each with his role and each knowing his place, the world would be in chaos. At the top were the rulers and political leaders, the k'uhul ajaw, divine lords, and immediately below them the nobles of other families, the ajaw. The nobles were considered sacred, there being, we learned, twenty-four lineages all linked to palaces and forming the royal court. Nobles performed a variety of duties including selecting the rulers and the priests of Q'umarkaj, and even selecting the king and king elect, usually the king's son. They also arranged marriages, feasts, and ceremonies and were responsible for educating the youth. The sajal, which were the war captains and the regional chiefs, came next. Warriors were not full time and were conscripted from farmers so farming came first in importance and war came second, having food in the stomach being more important than seizing land upon which to grow the food. Although not full time, warriors were of high rank. Merchants, like among the Tenochca, were a privileged class. At the bottom of course were the vassals, the al k'ajol, rural laborers, artisans, and slaves, the latter either prisoners captured in wars or criminals. The king was called ahpop, man of the mat, and was a successful war leader besides.

We had a small but impressive stock of trade goods which attracted the attention of the local merchants and the nobles of the city who were constantly vying against each other for prominence and looking for something the others did not have. Also we were young and clearly successful, and from past experiences and disappointments, we had become daring in our behavior and attitude. Having lost the closest members of his family, Ozomatli had no close ties to anyone and no family heritage to uphold, and I had accepted that I would never see my family or beloved Portugal again, and we had both lost a good friend and companion in our escape from the Tenochca. Life meant nothing to us, and so we dared to take risks that others would not. That attracted the attention of another element of the K'iche' community. The empire had a complex relationship with the kingdoms surrounding it, being allies with some clans and enemies with others within the same kingdom and often neighbors of each other, and that relationship fluctuating depending on who the leaders were at any given time with truces made one day and broken the next.

So it was while celebrating the festivities of the autumn equinox, an occasion of great importance to these farming people as it marked the change in seasons and the renewal of energy by the god Gucumatz, the two of us were sought out by one of the richer nobles in the city to trade his surplus tribute with a counterpart in Iximche, the capital of the neighboring Maya Kaqchjikel Kingdom to the south as we were more daring than the other traders and were willing to risk entering enemy territory. Besides, unlike many traders, we were prepared to defend ourselves and the goods consigned to us ourselves rather than adding the expense of hiring guards for protection. At times allies and at times enemies with the K'iche', the clan we sought was at the moment allies. We left the following morning and arrived at our destination the evening of the following day. Like all Maya cities, the center of Iximche consisted of the administrative and commercial complexes of the city, palaces, pyramidal temples, ceremonial ball courts and structures which I had come to know were for astronomical observation, and was surrounded by a residential sprawl, different parts of city being linked by causeways.

The two nobles being collaborators and having traded in the past, we were welcomed and treated well, befitting our privileged rank of traveling merchants. Our business was concluded favorably and quickly the next day and we were treated to a lavish meal with the expectation we would report back to our consignor the graciousness and riches of his colleague. We in return entertained our host and his guests with tales of our travel from the Maya Tzotzil to Ozomatli's Maya Itza at Nojpetén, with perhaps some exaggeration on the dangers we had encountered. The eldest son of the household, the b'aah ch'ok which means head youth and whose name was Jaguar Pup, was taken by our tales of danger and bravado, the hero worship in his eyes impossible not to notice.

My interest in the thirteen-year-old boy, a handsome, self-confident youth already with all the bearing of a haughty and powerful family and proud of his position as head youth, was evidently just as noticeable, for at the end of the evening, his father discretely made it known that he had no objection to the boy joining me for the night. The boy, he explained, had recently come of age, and was ready for his first boy bride but was inexperienced in such things. He did not say so outright, but I caught the implication that it would not do for the head boy of such a prominent family to appear ignorant or plebeian in such matters, a concern of both him and the boy. I was honored and more than willing to assist in his edification, and Ozomatli obligingly excused himself, claiming to be tired from our trip.

The mansion of our host reflected his wealth and his position, being located just outside the circle of homes for the city's leaders, and the rooms furnished with statues and decorated with friezes. We retired to the boy's own bedroom where proudly on display were his prized possessions, the possessions of a boy, headbands and armbands of exquisite beadwork, colorful river polished stones, a finely crafted spear, and a giant, abandoned wasp nest he had found in the jungle, all of which I commented on and praised, much to his delight. We approached his sleeping mat and he paused, uncertain what he was to do but knowing that even though a boy he was of higher rank and in charge. I rescued him, stepping forward and bowing my head deferentially and asking if I might pleasure him with my lips. He stood there regally, and looking down at me with all the arrogance of a young noble, he replied that I had his permission, his voice cracking as he said so and causing him to turn bright red. I pretended not to notice, but in truth I found his pubescent awkwardness and shyness highly enticing.

So I knelt before the young lord and untied his loincloth and beheld his soft, tender penis and loose scrotum and soft patch of curly hairs. I leaned in and inhaled deeply, delighting in the sweaty musk of a thirteen-year-old boy, and I nuzzled his precious boyhood and licked his stones as I reached up and cupped his smooth, compact buttocks. I mouthed his limp tube and took it in my mouth and sucked on it and I caressed his buttocks as I felt his member quickly swelling in my mouth. Once it was hard, which was in no time at all, I let it slip from my mouth and crouching lower I ran my tongue up the slender shaft and over the sheathed knob, swirling around it and causing him to quiver with delight, and then licking back down the shaft. He squirmed with arousal and impatience as I knelt there licking him, and I explained to him how a man can dampen another man's ardor by clamping his lips tightly about his member below his bulb, and I demonstrated the process.

I asked if he would like to lie down, and lying beside him I continued to pleasure him, licking his rigid cock and nibbling on the inner side of his thighs. I nibbled on his flat stomach and continued to up this chest where I licked his pert little nipples and sucked on them, causing them to become firm and to tingle with the same pleasure as his bulb. I discretely loosed my loincloth and let it fall, letting it seem to have slipped off by accident, and I squirmed around so we were facing opposite directions and I dangled my flaccid cock before the thirteen-year-old's face as I attacked his stiff member once again. I left it up to his arousal and curiosity to take the next step, and to my delight, I felt his hot breath on my limp member and then his smooth lips slip over my bulb. As I felt the tug of his breath on my cock, I slipped my lips over his and began to suck once again.

I knew he would not be able to hold back for long and so I sucked gently, delighting in having congress with this young lord, and delighting in his oral ministrations, awkward and hesitant at first and then becoming more forceful and lustful as the lust surged between his legs. He again began to squirm with his pleasure and approaching orgasm and knowing its novelty for him caused my own cock to become turgid and my stones to ache for the same conclusion. I once again clamped my lips about his slender member, not much longer nor thicker than my thumb, and I reached down and grasped his hips and held him still until his breathing slowed and became more regular. I then resumed sucking on his member and bobbing my head up and down between his legs and he squirmed and began to face fuck me in his desire.

I allowed him to continue to his natural conclusion, and I was soon rewarded for my efforts with a whimper of delight as his little member throbbed between my lips and he began to squirt his thin, watery boy juice into my mouth, the first to ever leave his body. I swallowed the sweet offering eagerly, delighting in his pleasure, and in the pleasure of knowing I was the first to drink that sweet, virgin nectar, and the first to draw it from his beautiful, slender body. Much is made of first fruits in this land, and the first squirts of a teenage boy's balls are much to be made of. There is nothing so sweet nor so delicious on this earth. The boy gasped and whimpered in the dark with his release and he arched his body as his juices spurted out rapidly and with a burning delight.

We disentangled and lay there in the dark, and as he recovered from his first ejaculation I lay there and imagined the delight the thirteen-year-old boy was feeling and the thoughts racing in his mind with the first release of his seed. I savored the gooey paste coating my tongue and my gums and the delight that comes knowing I had brought him such pleasure. As we lay there, I wondered what his father was thinking at that moment, knowing that his son had spent his seed with an older youth of the same sex, and what it was like for a father to arrange for his son to learn how a male has congress with another. There was no way that Father would ever have arranged for me to learn such a thing from another male, and certainly not to spurt my seed for the first time with a male he had only met that day. I had to wonder what sort of father would do so. I never ceased to marvel at the sexual openness of these people and I had to wonder if it was the result of the scarcity of clothing they wore or if the heat of the sun had touched their minds somehow.

After lying there for a bit, I asked the boy if he had any lubrication and he replied that his father had taken him aside before we had retired to his bedroom and had given him some turkey fat. I again tried to imagine Father slipping me some fat and expecting me to lubricate my penis with it in preparation of fucking another male, and though I could not imagine such a thing, the idea of a father doing so gave me a surge of lust and caused my limp member to begin to swell again so perverted I had become living with these people and being exposed to the sight of naked flesh day in and day out. Taking the bowl of fat from the boy, I dipped my finger in and openly lubricated my anus, being sure to turn so the boy could see how it was done so low I had fallen.

I worked the fat about my anus and slipped the tip of my pointer finger into my anus to lubricate the inner walls of my rectum and I squirmed with the pleasure and with the eroticism of being watched finger fucking myself by this virgin boy. I then turned to the boy and taking his flaccid member in my left hand and holding it up by the base, I smeared the greasy fingers of my right hand over the tender, fleshy tube, which immediately began to swell. I dipped my fingers into the warm fat and smeared more over his swelling tube, not that I anticipated anything so short and slender would need much lubrication, but knowing that the boy's future boy bride would be much tighter than I and would need such lubrication. I confess the thought of this thirteen-year-old virgin introducing his new bride to this pleasure caused my member to wag with arousal and I wished I could be present to watch.

Putting the container down, I turned and knelt on all fours and told the boy to kneel behind me. He knew what for, having seen plenty of animals in that position, and perhaps even his own mother and father. He was awkward and embarrassed that he had to reposition himself several times before he was able to penetrate me, but his awkwardness and unfamiliarity only served to arouse me all the more, knowing this was this proud, arrogant youth's first fuck. As he sank his slender cocklet up my rectum I was as excited as he was. Grasping my hips, he began the universal pumping of his hips, driving his cocklet in and out of my body and he panted and grunted with arousal and exertion, eager to experience the culmination of our act. Knowing his anticipation, I quickly grew as eager as he was. I could have told him if he slowed down he could enjoy it longer, but this was his night and that was something he would discover on his own. For this night, simply depositing his seed up the ass of another male for the first time was enough. Being thirteen and healthy, that was soon despite having spent once already. As he began to thrust his hips to and fro rapidly and irregularly I knew he was approaching his climax, and when he grasped my hips tightly and shuddered with the release of his seed I arched my back and shot my own with equal pleasure.

We lay there on our backs afterward, relishing what we had just done and delighting in the flush of satisfaction that follows. The boy glanced at me and after hesitating a moment, he asked if he had done all right and I assured him that he had done more than just all right and that I would not have spilled my seed if I had not enjoyed it. That brought a smile to his face, which in turn caused my member to twitch. We talked for a bit, about what was expected of a man and of a wife, and of a boy and of his boy-wife. I told him I really did not know that much, but that in my opinion, though the purpose of having a boy-wife was to satisfy his sexual needs, he would both enjoy it much more if he satisfied his boy-wife's needs also. We talked about how one did that, and I advised him that though the release of his seed at the end was the goal, getting there was a big part of the fun and we talked about ways to make that pleasure last longer. I also told him there were some who felt a man did not really know how to be a good fucker until he himself had been fucked. He asked if I believed that and I replied that I did. Looking down at my member, he confessed that the size of my member frightened him and that he figured it would be painful to be penetrated by something that size.

Assuring him that need not be so, I reached down and fondled his soft cock and rolled his balls in their sack and he reached over and did the same to me. He was still hesitant but wanted to discover what it was like to be penetrated and so I greased up his rectum and my by then stiff member and we assumed the same position was before except I knelt behind him. Wedging my stiff cock against his anus, I grasped his hips and ever so slowly pushed forward, telling him to open his anus and push out at the same time. He was a virgin and tight and I was thicker than the average man, but it was something we both desired and I had plenty of experience. I pushed forward ever so slowly, and ever so slowly his anus was stretched open. Breathing slowly and deeply, we strained to unite and finally my knob popped into this rectum. I paused to let him become accustomed to having his anus stretched, and then I slowly pushed forward, sinking my cock up his tight, hot ass until my curly hairs were pressing against his smooth buttocks.

I paused again so he could get used to being stuffed, and so I could enjoy the feeling of having my aching cock surrounded by hot, moist, pulsating ass flesh. Grasping his hips, I began to slowly draw my cock back out until my knob reached his anus and then I slowly sank it back up his ass. Inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, I pumped my hips to and fro ever so slowly also. His ass grasped my thick cock and he inhaled and exhaled deeply also as his little member began to swell. I concentrated on the pleasure of having my cock surrounded by hot, pulsating flesh and on the tingling along the rim of my bulb, the same tingling I knew he was feeling along the rim of his asshole. For the first time in his life this thirteen-year-old boy was being fucked and he closed his eyes and gasped with the pleasure. Having both already come twice, it took longer for our balls to react so we did not have to pause or use any tricks to hold back. Ever so slowly I felt the pressure develop between my legs and once again I felt my cock go numb. I concentrated on that pleasure, and soon I felt the twang deep in my loins and the familiar rush of my seed up the core of my swollen cock. It spurted out the tip with that sweet burning pain and up the boy's rectum, and heartbeats later the boy began to spurt his own seed, still thin and watery but thicker than the first two times. We sucked in the musky air laden with the fragrance of spilt seed and sighed with the exquisite pleasure of the release of our seed. Jaguar Pup was going to do just fine.

The next day we traded some of our own goods for a supply of exquisite feathers, the birds of this country being as numerous as the stars in heaven and of the most beautiful and brilliant plumage I have ever seen. The next morning we began the two-day trek back to Q'umarkaj, an uneventful hike, and we reported to our consignor the morning following our return with a supply of cacao beans and silver beads from his colleague in return for his surplus tribute of fruits and cloths. Delighted with our success and the impressions we had of the Kaqchikel which we shared with him, he rewarded us with the use of one of his slave boys that night.

The boy was the son of a pair of slaves who worked in the fields, his mother captured in a raid on a neighboring village for the sole purpose of capturing a woman for the breeding of more slaves, and his father a warrior captured in a war in which he had lost an eye and so was unsuitable for sacrifice but was kept to work the fields and to breed more slaves. The boy, seven winters old, worked alongside his parents during the day and being fair of face and body entertained his master's guests at night. He knew his place well and dropped to his knees upon entering our room, ready to do our bidding. Wrapping his fingers about my cock at the base, he raised it and took it in his mouth, slipping his lips down to his fingers, clearly experienced at what he was doing and as happy as a babe sucking teat. Ozomatli greased up the boy's anus and rectum and his own cock and kneeling behind him he sank his cock up the boy's ass, the boy's experience again obvious.

As Ozomatli began fucking the young boy's ass and as the boy bobbed his head up and down as he sucked on my cock, I had to wonder about his life and that of his parents. Were they in their room thinking of their boy, knowing that he was engaged in these obscene acts with total strangers? Even though it was their purpose and his to serve and to please, surely they could not approve of what he was doing, but then they were but slaves and could neither approve nor disapprove of such things. How did a mother and father feel knowing their place on this earth was to breed, to have children who would also be slaves and who would do whatever their owner demanded of them, whether it be working in the fields or providing sexual pleasure to his male guests? How did the boy feel about having been born into this life, being a slave and a son of slaves? Knowing his lot in life, and that he could do no better, was he content performing the role God meant for him to have? How did he and his parents feel when he returned home to them, smelling of cock and spent seed? It was with the latter thought that I filled his stomach with my seed as Ozomatli filled his rectum with his.

We rested and then sought the services of the boy again, reversing positions so that I sank my cock up his ass while he took Ozomatli's cock in his mouth and began to suck on it. The seven-year-old's ass was smooth and compact and his asshole tight and warm and moist. I sank my cock deep until my hairs were pressed against his buttocks and the tip was basking in Ozomotli's slime. I grasped his hips tightly and pumped my cock in and out of his body rapidly, eager to squirt my seed up his rectum. The boy meanwhile sucked on Ozomatli's cock eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he had not washed his member after being up the boy's ass and was coated with the boy's ass slime, but then the boy was a slave and did not know better and it did not much matter. It was not long before Ozomatli was squirting his seed down the boy's throat to join mine and my slime was spurting up the boy's ass to join that of Ozomatli.

Having been told of our service and our reliability, a pair of nobles approached us two days later to take a half dozen surplus slaves, prisoners taken in battles with the Cuzcatlecs, to trade with the Mam Maya, three days travel to the north. It was very hot despite it now being the beginning of October, and their third month, the month of Tzec, and the trail we had chosen connecting the two kingdoms was overgrown with vines, but we made good time and encountered no difficulties. What we did encounter, much to my surprise and curiosity, were large stones carved in the shape of gigantic phalluses, crumbling and surrounded by dense vegetation and evidently unused for a long time.

Ozomotli informed me he had seen many such carvings to the north of where he lived in much better condition and which were still used in worship by a cult who revered the male member, but he knew little of the practice and had never had the opportunity to participate in one of their rituals. He said so with some regret and we both joked that any cult that worshiped the male member had to be a worthy religion and I confess in my depravity I not only imagined venerating that appendage between my legs but voiced my opinion that it was a god above all gods and that there was none more powerful nor deserving of one's reverence. To that Ozomatli readily agreed and that night under the diamond-bright stars, the waning moon now a narrow crescent as it approached the time it would momentarily disappear from the skies, and surrounded by the night sounds of the jungle, the two of us paid reverence to that member between each other's legs.

No doubt our human trade goods tied up securely and out of sight could hear us but we did not care. Lust was upon us, and they were, after all, only slaves. The two of us were skilled in the sport between men, and we were just as eager to please each other as we were to please ourselves. Although the acts were the same, it was far different from seeking our pleasure from the slave boy. Then we had been only concerned with our own pleasure. As I took Ozomatli's cock in my mouth and sucked on it, I savored its unique taste and fragrance, and focused on bringing him pleasure, the same pleasure as I felt when a man took my member in his mouth. And, as Ozomatli swirled his tongue around the rim of my cock, I knew he was deriving as much pleasure out of sucking me as he was from me sucking him. We knew all the tricks of course, and we delayed our ejaculations several times, knowing when to clamp our lips down on each other and when to become inactive, and knowing when it was time to stop such delays.

We then took turns fucking each other, again benefitting from our past experiences and prolonging the experience and focusing on bringing our partner pleasure as well as pleasing ourselves. As I lay there later curled up against Ozomatli's naked body in the warm night, staring up at the stars and listening to the night animals going about their business, the taste of Ozomotli's seed on my lips, the memory of his cock up my rectum, and feeling his slime ooze out my anus, I was content and happy, as was he.

Our human chattel was strong and healthy and so fetched us a good exchange at the marketplace the day after our arrival. Ozomatli, always finding it easy to engage others in conversation and put them at ease, mentioned the stone phalluses we had seen and charmed those in the know to include us in a ceremony that very evening. So at sunset we joined seven other men at the edge of the village and we were taken to one of the stone phalluses that Ozomatli and I had no idea was nearby.

The leader, an older man and a priest from his long, white robe though I know not for which god, lit a ceremonial fire to which he added some pungent herbs to create a thick smoke and we each stepped forward and was purified by fanning the sacred smoke over us. As we sat around the fire, he roasted black maca root, which I knew from my training with the Tenochca was the strongest variation of the plant which comes in practically every color of the rainbow, and as we chewed it and drank large quantities of weak beer, the priest, who discarded his robe to reveal a loincloth embroidered with a square-nosed serpent which framed his genitals, which I found most effective and erotic, recited tales of the god Chin, a dwarf god who had introduced the Maya to providing their sons young boys as brides to satisfy their urges until they were old enough to begin raising a family, and others told tales of the exploits of their fertility gods, of whom there appeared to be many, chief among them Itzamma, a tonsured maize god. Between the maca root, the ribald stories, and the octli, we began to feel the lust welling up in our loins and one by one the men discarded their loincloths and proudly exhibited their members, all in various states of arousal. Two of the men, including the priest, appeared to be in their early forties and one, the priest's son for unlike the Tenochca and our Catholic priests their priests were allowed to marry, said he had seen fourteen winters. The remainder were in their late teens or early twenties. I could not help notice that the penises of the older men were heavily scarred and I had to wonder why.

Forming a circle around the stone phallus, we were lead in a chant and circular dance about the stone by the priest and we began to stroke ourselves. One of the men began playing a flute and another a small drum and I took out my panpipe which I carried always with me finding its unusual music was admired wherever I went. Our hands occupied with our musical instruments, the men beside us were more than willing to lend a hand to stroke the instrument between our legs. As our lust grew the music became louder and wilder and our gyrations about the stone became more frenzied. We drew close to the stone and rubbed our now erect penises against it. The stone was warm and smooth, almost feeling as if it was alive, and I noticed for the first time it had a highly polished, oily band around the circumference just below the waist, the result of having been rubbed by thousands of penises over who knows how many years.

Having never engaged in any form of frottage before, alone or with another, I confess I found the experience highly erotic and I thrust my hips and gyrated, rubbing my bulb against the warm stone as we grasped hands and continued to shuffle in a circle about the stone. The ripples of pleasure about the rim of my bulb caused the opening of my member to itch and I opened and closed it in a desperate attempt to squirt my seed. I was evidently not the only one feeling such lust as one by one the circle of dancers began to ejaculate, spraying the stone with their thick, copious seed, and as we danced about the stone those who had not yet spent their seed rubbed their bulbs in the seed of the dancers who had, smearing it over the highly polished phallus and over their own bulbs, which were soon squirting their own seed. I arched my body and gasped with pleasure as I felt my seed gush up the core of my cock and I watched with lust-glazed eyes as my seed sprayed the stone and as the dancer beside me rubbed his bulb in my thick seed, smearing it along the stone with his erect cock. Dropping in a circle about the monument, which was now glistening with our spilt seed in the moonlight, we chewed on more maca root and drank more octli until once again we rose and danced, again another man stroking my erect member as I played the panpipe, and again we anointed the monument with our seed. Three times we did so and then staggered back to the village, having paid homage to the gods of fertility. (2)

The next day we were approached by the priest who informed us there was to be a special ceremony the following evening, the first day of the new moon, and if we wished to join, we should begin our fast this evening. Having no need to hurry back to Q'umarkaj and eager to participate in another ceremony, and thankful we would have two days to rest and restore our vital juices, which for healthy young men such as ourselves would be time enough, we informed the priest we would be honored to participate and he was much pleased by our decision.

So we refrained from eating or drinking anything but water that evening and the next day, and just before sunset we joined the priest and several other worshipers in a sweat lodge where we purified our bodies and were lead in several chants to purify our minds and souls. There were, I noticed, again seven men in addition to Ozomatli and myself, two men joining us from the previous night plus the fourteen-year-old boy and the priest. One of the new men whose hair was streaked with grey but who was trim and muscular despite his evident age wore a loincloth apron embroidered with the branches of a tree framing his genitals. I noticed he was treated with deference by the others, even the priest, which I assumed was in honor of his age, these people like all civilized people despite their otherwise savage ways having a high regard for the elderly. I was much surprised to learn later that I had been in the presence of the ruler of the city who engaged in this ceremony regularly to prove his virility and power and to beseech the gods to continue ensuring his authority!

We returned again to the stone phallus but, I noticed, with far more solemnity than the last time. A cornmeal cake was presented to the creator god on the altar set up before the phallus along with a cup of balaché, a ceremonial drink made from fermented honey and tree bark. The priest approached each of us, beginning with their leader, and we removed our loincloths and took a long draught as he rubbed our thighs with crushed tobacco leaves and offered to dab our members with a paste he called tlapatl, which, since all of the men declined, including the fourteen-year-old boy despite the priest's urging to use it to lessen the pain as this was the boy's first time, Ozomotli and I also declined. After having his thighs rubbed with the crushed leaves, each man began to stroke himself and by the time the priest had reached me at the end of the line the first were already erect. Recalling our experience two days earlier I was almost erect before even touching myself. The priest went down the line once again, this time tightly tying a short, knotted chord about each man's penis at the base, still another clue that this was a very different ceremony that I was about to engage in but one I did not heed.

As we stepped forward and formed a circle about the stone phallus, I was confused why the priest would say it was the boy's first time as he knew the boy had joined us two days ago, and why he had mentioned pain, but what he meant became clear moments later as he produced a long, thin, bone awl to which was attached a thin chord and approached the first man, their leader, who stepped up to the stone phallus. I watched in horror as the priest took the man's member, which was greatly scarred, held it up, and thrust the bone through the shaft, penetrating one side and withdrawing it from the other. Drawing the cord through the hole, from which was flowing rich, red blood, the priest approached the second man and did the same, quickly making his way around the stone phallus. The cause of the scarring I had noticed the previous day also became suddenly painfully clear. The young boy was standing beside me and as the priest approached him and they stepped up to the phallus where two days ago he had spilt his seed, his cheeks paled and his eyes widened and then clenched with pain as he bit into his lower lip.

The priest stepped up to me next and I inhaled deeply and prayed to whichever god would listen, and begged every god I knew, that the pain would not be as severe as I imagined it would be. It was not. It was even worse. No god had listened, and I am sure the one and only true God was looking down and smiling, enjoying His revenge for the countless sins and the blasphemy I had committed. I gritted my teeth as I felt the bloodied bone pierce and pass through my tender, sensitive member and I swore my regret having said my cock was a god more powerful than any other, and I swore in the name of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Divine Son and the Sacred Holy Spirit and on the Holy Bible that I would never commit such a blasphemy again as the blood flowed freely down my penetrated shaft and over my balls and I felt the chord being pulled through. Ozomatli was next and finally the priest threaded the chord through his own penis and tied it to the end of the bloody cord hanging out of the penis of the first man.

Raising a conch to his lips, the priest began a mournful tune and fastened to each other we rubbed our flaccid penises against the stone statue, anointing it with our penal blood, slowly stepping around the statue from left to right, the same direction as those who worship the devil, smearing our throbbing, bleeding penises with the blood of the man before us and leaving behind a smear of our blood for the man behind us. Several of the men had inserted additional chords through the opening, increasing their flow of blood. The priest began to chant and we chanted along with him as we thrust our hips forward and brushed our abused members against the stone phallus and stomped to the right and did it again, each movement sending pangs of pain through our flaccid flesh. The chant became louder with each step but for me it was not out of religious fervor but out of pain, and I suspect for some, especially the boy beside me, the reason was the same as mine.

I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip so hard I felt the blood flowing in my mouth and my head began to spin dizzily and I imagined myself fainting and hanging there by my pierced prick and being dragged around the stone. Three times we completed the circle, the jerking of the cord keeping our wounds open and bleeding. Imagining my penis having been ripped in half I glanced down and the sight of my bloodied penis, streaked with my blood and that of the other eight men made me feel faint and I had to look away. The fourteen-year-old boy beside me was staring straight ahead, his face white as he tried not to let his pain show. The thought of dragging my throbbing member through his slimy seed two days ago had been arousing and had made my seed flow all the more. The thought of dragging my penis through his blood was far different.

The coppery taste of my blood filled my mouth and the smell of fresh blood filled my nostrils. I could feel it running down over my balls and down my thighs and I stared at the grey stone before me as we took another jog to the right. Finished at last, the cord was severed and pulled out and a salve was distributed to stem the bleeding, but, I noticed, not to deaden the pain. Ozomotli and I said nothing as we returned to the village. I walked spread-legged, as a man who had ridden a horse too long, but the pain I had felt following the first time I had ridden a horse was nothing compared to the pain I felt that night. Each step I took caused my battered penis to bounce, and each bounce sent a needle-sharp pang of pain through it. I would never be able to use it for pleasure again, and I imagined from now on when I made water my piss would flow out of each side besides the tip. I did not sleep that night, and checked on my member every half candle mark, certain it was bleeding and relieved to find it was not.

We rested the day following our ordeal, naked and our legs spread. The slightest contact of my member with my loincloth or anything else sent shards of pain through it just as sharp as the bone awl had. Even just the memory caused my member to shrivel. Ozomatli felt the same as I but we noticed that the others who had participated in the ritual the previous night were walking about including the teenager, who I noticed was walking gingerly but determinedly. Some were in obvious pain but suffering only added to their prestige. Myself, I swore I would never follow the lead of Ozomatli again and I spent the day in silent penitence, swearing I would never deviate from the worship of the one and only true God again and that I would know no gods before him, and if my member should by some miracle recover, I would never use again other than for the conceiving of children.

The next day we headed back to Q'umarkaj. As the crescent moon once again made its appearance that first night on the trail, I thought back to the new moon ceremonies I had engaged in back in the temple of Xochipilli and how preferable that was compared to the ceremony I had just participated in. Even those erotic memories did not stir my abused member, and for that I was thankful. That I would never again experience such pleasures saddened me greatly, but I resolved all the stronger that I would never again use my member for such pleasures. The night we returned to the city the citizens had gathered in the central plaza to honor bee keepers and their god and while I welcomed the comb honey and sweet treats sold by the vendors, I ignored the other sweet treats being offered by seductive young boys in the shadows, firm in my resolve, and besides, my member was still too tender to engage in activities. Retiring to my bed, I gingerly applied a salve to my wound to prevent it from becoming inflamed, thankful for my training in medicinal herbs with the Ocale shaman, Muqbey.

Chapter 17
Maya of the South – Spies

Two days after our return to the city, we were discretely contacted while bartering our wares at the market by a young boy of twelve who took us to see a rich and powerful noble, a cousin to one of the four rulers of the city, and the following day found us leaving the city again, angling southeast between the Kaqchikel and Chajoma Kingdoms for the Maya Poqoman Kingdom, a journey of three days. Being at a still higher elevation, I welcomed the cooler days and nights. Our mission was of a much more dangerous nature than the others, and Ozomatli, thriving on danger, had been most eager to undertake it. Despite my earlier misgiving and resolve, I had found myself once again following his lead and agreeing.

The noble we had met with had information that the Poqoman were preparing for a major strike at the Kaqchikel and sought information on when and where this might occur so his clan could use the distraction to make a parallel strike of their own. Long distance merchants and entertainers often acted as spies on the side, and usually made more for supplying information to the nobles who hired them than they did in their main profession. Merchants, of course, were also free to seek own trade items, items that were rarer and more difficult to come by which made such propositions to serve as spies even more attractive.

In this case we decided to travel as entertainers, musicians and singers, and upon arriving at our destination we set up in the marketplace along with the other venders. We were good and we were new and we quickly caught the attention of the nobility who, like nobles all over, were eager to outdo each other. We readily accepted any invitations to perform privately at the homes of the more powerful military families, where we kept our ears and eyes open for any snatches of conversations that might verify the rumor. We also ingratiated ourselves with the boys for hire, who can be found in any reasonably-sized city, a natural fellowship for artists, boys for hire and artisans seeming to have the same cravings and the same interests. Engaging in pleasures of the flesh often has a way of loosening tongues, a man who has hired a boy often trying to impress the boy with his bravado and masculinity and his position in the world. Such is the way it is whether in the Christian cities of Rome or Florence, the cities of the heathen hordes of Europe and Asia, or the cities in these heathen lands. And, like boys for hire all over, the boys in Poqoman were loose-tongued and eager to reveal the secrets they learned, and knew that men would often pay to learn such secrets.

And so it was that we struck up a friendship with a pair of ten-year-olds who were often hired as a pair, and who because of their hard appearance and daring personalities were preferred by the military leaders. The two boys, Four Kan and Eight Lamat, were the best of friends, had identical personalities, and looked so much alike they could have been twins. They were eager to have congress with us as we were new and reckless, older versions of themselves, and they took great joy in revealing the secrets they had learned from their sexual partners. They confirmed the rumor of an imminent raid and were overjoyed that it was happening for men who are about to risk their lives are eager to squeeze in as much pleasure as they can before they ascend to meet their gods, and pay more generously knowing they might not be back to enjoy their riches.

Ten days had passed since my piercing, and though still tender where it had been penetrated, my member had healed. I was mindful of my resolution to never use it for sport again, but ten days is a formidably long time to abstain, particularly considering the frequency I had used it for such purposes up until its piercing. Besides, engaging these two boys was not so much as for the pleasure as it was out of business and necessity for we had been hired to retrieve such information and were duty bound to return with it. It was a pleasant aspect of our role as spies, not only it being a pleasant way to get information, but resulted in our own sexual gratification also, with the added benefit of not having to pay. Considering that was the major reason for having congress with the boys, I was sure that our all-knowing and all-merciful God would understand and agree that this was not really breaking my vow.

Although only ten years old the two boys had a maturity and sexual skills far beyond their age. Having congress with a young, virgin boy has its benefits, but having congress with a boy who knows how to pleasure a man has its benefits also. The boys began by pleasuring the two of us orally, licking and sucking our nipples, our stomachs, the inside of our thighs, and our cocks and stones, first Four Kan and I and Eight Lamat with Ozomatli, and then the boys switching so Eight Lamat was mouthing my cock while Four Kan was sucking on Ozomatli's stones. Once we were fully aroused, the two boys knelt before us and went down on us, sliding their lips down our shafts to our stones and hairs, taking our entire cock down their throat. That was no easy feat given our length and we were both impressed by the boys. They knew all the delaying tactics and pleasured us for at least half a candle mark despite neither of us having had congress in the past ten days, and despite the eroticism of having these two handsome, athletic youngsters eagerly sucking on our stiff cocks. There was no question they were enjoying doing so from the blush on their smooth cheeks and the fluttering of their long, feathery eyelashes and the eagerness with which they sucked on our cocks and worked their lips up and down the shafts. It was with great delight and satisfaction when we could hold back no longer and filled the two boys' bellies with our hot, thick seed.

The boys then pleasured each other while we watched, kissing and caressing and then sucking each other. There is something highly erotic about watching two ten-year-old boys pleasuring each other, watching them hungrily sucking on each other's stiff little cocklet. Once again I had to wonder at the openness and the acceptance of these people of such behavior. There was no way adults would tolerate such wanton activity back home, and yet, watching these two young boys delighting in the pleasure of the flesh, and then twitching uncontrollably with their orgasms, one has to wonder if maybe these savages have the right of it.

Allowing them time to recover, we engaged them once more, the two of them lying on their sides and kissing and caressing each other as we mounted them, me taking Eight Lamat and Ozomatli taking Four Kan, the two of us penetrating their backsides and riding them as they kissed each other and reached down and fondled each other's little, erect cocklet. Their assholes were tight and warm and moist and they squirmed with the pleasure of being stuffed by a man's cock and we panted and gasped with the pleasure the provided us, knowing they were finding as much pleasure in being fucked as we were finding fucking them. That the two boys had been fucked countless times in the past only added to my pleasure for there can be no doubt about the rightness of what we were doing with boys so prurient. When we came, filling their rectums with our seed, they squirmed and bucked with their own orgasms, each grasping the other's throbbing little cock in his fist as they came once again.

While seeking the information we had been hired to discover, we also sought out information on goods we might purchase for trade, in particular the trade of healing potions, love potions and poisons, and who better to ask than the very same companions we had befriended. Again Four Kan and Eight Lamat were eager to help and knew all the right contacts. With the knowledge we had gained as priests of Xochipilli, we had a good knowledge of what we were dealing with and so we were not overly concerned about tricksters, and we had a good idea of the prices that were fair for such items. By the end of our fourth night in the city we had learned enough about the impending raid, and we had our supply of potions for trading upon our return north.

Learning also from one of the boys that a fat salt merchant availing himself of his services that night was heading north the following day to Nimcakajpec, the Chajoma Maya capital, we befriended him there at the brothel. Telling him we were on our way back to the K'iche', we convinced him that a company of three would be safer traveling than individuals, there being much tension among all of the tribes with rumors of war. We assured him we were as skilled at using the weapons at our sides as we were using the one between our legs and could thus give him the added advantage of accompanying a couple who could provide him protection for free.

On the night of the first day on the trail we were intercepted by a group of thieves who had thought to relieve the merchant of his salt goods and that two musicians would be no challenge. We easily dissuaded them, our thieves being no match for our training and experience as warriors and they were certainly no match for my sword or for Ozomatli's knife. Quickly realizing we had no reservation about taking their lives, they beat a hasty retreat. The fat salt merchant was much appreciative of our company and he did not hesitate to proclaim our abilities and bravery to whoever would listen when we arrived at Nimcakajpec the following evening and he insisted on paying for our meal and room.

The following day we were approached in the market by one of the leading citizens of that city who sought an escort for a couple brides, two sisters, being sent to their prospective husbands in the Empire of the Kaqchikel in two days hence, the following day being the first day of the month Xul and the Maya, like the Tenochca, avoiding business of any sort on the first day of the month. The citizen had dealings with our salt merchant that morning and he had extolled our skills as warriors. Our new employers were impressed and had figured two worshipers of Chin as escorts for the two brides was a safe gamble and an added bonus. The pay they offered was good, and as I said, we were reckless, and I think now, even had a death wish, so we headed west into Kaqchikel territory. It was only a two-day journey and we had our skills put to the test by a clan hoping to steal the women as we approached our destination the second evening, but like the thieves earlier they were no match for the team of Ozomatli and Baracutey.

The weddings were held the next day and the grooms provided us two harem boys, captives in a recent raid and only recently turned seven years of age, making it clear that out of gratitude we could do whatever we wished with the two boys, apologizing with wide grins that unlike their brides the boys were no virgins, having only recently been introduced to the same demanding snakes as their wives would be that night. The two boys approached us docilely and respectfully, knowing their place as slaves and as boys. They knelt before us and mouthed our stones and cocks, licking them and sucking them with an awkwardness and unfamiliarity that were arousing. We exchanged knowing glances and then looked down to watch the two boys slip their mouths down our growing members and begin sucking on them as they began to work their lips up and down our still flaccid flesh. Engaging in sex with them was very different from engaging in sex with experienced whores, but these two boys were whores just the same, and like Eight Lamat and Four Kan they would come to accept their roles and even to enjoy having congress with older men. There were worse fates in life.

The two boys concentrated on what they were doing with the intensity of children learning a new skill and wishing to do well and the novelty for them increased my pleasure as I thought back to the first time I had ever sucked cock and the mystery of sex and my apprehension, and I was much older than these two boys. In that I envied them for they had so many more years to enjoy this pleasure known only between males. It was pleasure, whether you were the one being sucked or the one doing the sucking, and I thought back to our two ceremonies in the jungle venerating that tube of flesh that rises between a man's legs. Despite my earlier vows not to do so, I could not help revering that pulsating, controlling snake. It certainly brought me more pleasure than any god I have yet worshiped, and such was the depth of my depravity that I openly proclaimed such was the case. We had the night to enjoy and stopped the boys several times to prolong our pleasure, and when at last my seed gushed up the core of my benumbed cock and down the throat of the boy child kneeling before me I wondered if his master was at that moment squirting his seed up the womb of his new bride, and if she had provided him as much pleasure as this seven-year-old boy had provided him earlier.

We switched boys then, and I mounted the youngster who had sucked Ozomatli as he mounted the boy who had drunk my seed. Again as I penetrated the seven-year-old's ass and felt the moistness and heat of his bowels and the tightness of his anus, I imagined his master sinking his cock up the boy's hole for the first time, probably as recently as yesterday, and I wondered how the boy was feeling about bringing men pleasure in this way. I thought too of his master now sinking his cock up his new wife's hole and she experiencing being stuffed by a man's member for her first time, and wondering if the two of them felt the same pleasure as the man had felt with his seven-year-old harem boy. I had taken the boy standing up, wanting to do it differently from the past nights, and because I found the position accented his youthfulness. Grasping his slender hips, I rammed my cock in and out of his hole rapidly, lust driving my actions, and standing beside me Ozomatli did likewise with his youthful partner. Of course we reached our peaks more rapidly doing so but neither of us could resist the pleasure.

We stopped before we reached that point of no stopping however and rested, and as we began a second time, slower now, we reached around and stroked the boys' little cocklets which quickly became rigid with the humors of lust that flow through the veins of even those so young. I squeezed my boy's little spout between my thumb and first two fingers and stroked it, causing him to quiver with the pleasure as ripples of irritation throbbed through his tiny bulb, proof that God intended on boys that age to engage in sex or He would not have designed them so they felt such pleasure. It felt strange holding something so slender and short compared to stroking my own cock. I waited until the boy was squirming and whimpering with his own orgasm before I shot my seed up his rectum and he quivered with the double pleasure of his own orgasm and of having his rectum filled with my seed.

Returning to K'iche', we arranged to meet with the noble as soon as we arrived for the planned raid by the Poqoman was to begin in two days time. To our surprise considering the secretiveness of our mission, there was another man present, a second noble whom he introduced as a coconspirator. We relayed the information we had gathered and they were most exited by the news. To our disappointment and surprise, our contact had not brought our payment and instead informed us to return the following night. As we departed, his friend to implement their plan as the timing was urgent and Ozomatli and I back to our lodging, we were warned not to talk to anyone as the enemy also had spies in our midst.

The next afternoon we sold most of the potions we had obtained, keeping some to use ourselves, and me adding to the collection I had begun shortly after arriving on the shore of these lands and which I had maintained despite having come to the conclusion I would never be able to present it to my liege back home. That was illogical, but I suspect it was a foolish attempt by my mind to hold onto a vestige of hope that I was wrong and that I would sometime return home to family and friends. The individual who purchased the poisons we had collected, a shifty man with an evil demeanor, was particularly joyful to replenish his supply. He was a loquacious man with a need to impress, and it was from him that we learned of a plot in which a powerful noble of the city was sending a coconspirator on a raid on the Kaqchikel, but was planning on betraying his coconspirator by sending a messenger to warn the tribe being attacked, thus getting rid of a rival by having him killed by the enemy. Remaining behind, he would disavow any knowledge of the raid. The messenger was the brother of the man purchasing our poisons, and he had left on his mission the previous evening. He professed not to know the names of these nobles, but Ozomatli and I had a very good idea who they were.

We were most perturbed by this latest news. There was one weakness in the noble's plan. He might claim that he was aware of the raid, but three people, Ozomatli and I and this messenger, knew differently. His secret would never be safe as long as we lived. Had there been more time before the attack by the Poqoman, no doubt had he had the time and the opportunity our employer would probably have gotten rid of us the previous evening, but it had become urgent that he meet with his messenger and send him on his way that night before his rival headed out on his raid. Having intended on killing us all along certainly explained why he had not brought our payment with him the previous night. After considering our alternatives, we decided to proceed with our meeting that evening but we would do so much more warily, and with plans of our own. We were received cordially, which was no surprise, and handed our payment immediately, which we had not expected.

"Before you leave," he said, his manner much too friendly for our differences in position, "a drink to the success of the raid on our common enemy." He rang a bell and two boys entered, one twelve years of age, the same boy he had sent to the market to bring us to him so he could hire us as spies, and the other eight, the older carrying a tray with three drinking cups and the other a tray with tortillas and a chilli and bean paste, which they placed on a table beside our host. There was a close resemblance between the boys, brothers perhaps, or cousins. "A tasty brew made from napal that I serve on special occasions," he said, referring to a sweet drink made from the prickly pear cactus, "I've had it chilled. I am sure you will like it."

Three cups already filled? That was too suspicious. Special occasion indeed! The cups looked identical, but I noticed the one he had picked up had a swirled design at the base which the other two lacked. To his surprise, I reached out suddenly and took it from his hands. "Thank you," I said with a smile as I picked up a second and turned and handed it to Ozomatli with a warning glance not to drink it. Our host stood there in confusion, not knowing what to do and clearly hesitant to pick up the remaining cup. Ozomatli and I waited and he slowly picked the cup up, obviously perturbed.

"To… ah… to a successful attack on our enemies," he said, slowly raising his cup, his eyes reflecting his anxiety.

Ozomatli and I raised our cups also but much more slowly, waiting for him to take the first sip. Our suspicion obvious, our host suddenly tossed aside his cup and pulling out his dagger rushed forward in desperation. Ozomatli was faster and more experienced. Having put his cup down, he stepped forward to meet him and knocking the blade out of our host's hand, he drew out his own dagger and held it up before him. "What is in the drink?" he asked, glancing at his cup.

"It is just a drink made from napal," he replied. "It is harmless. What is the matter with the two of you?"

I picked up Ozomatli's drink and handed it to the younger servant. "Drink it," I ordered. The boy looked up at our host. Grabbing the older boy, I took out my dagger and held it to his throat. "Drink, or I slice your companion's throat."

He hesitated and then slowly began to raise the cup to his lips. "No!" shouted our host. All four of us looked at him. "Mixitl," he said. "It contains mixitl."

Mixitl, known as toloatzin by the Tenochca. As a priest of Xochipilli I was well aware of the substance. In the proper concentration it was used by senior priests to induce visions. It also had a malicious use, causing one to become temporarily paralyzed and mute, or possibly even causing death. (1)

"And the food?"

"There is nothing in it. Only the drink."

"What shall we do?" Ozomatli asked.

"Let's bind and gag him and the boys and get out of here."

"He will eventually free himself or be freed and he'll try to get rid of us again. Our lives will never be safe as long as he lives." I knew Ozomatli was right, and I knew there was only one alternative.

"Then we have no choice other than for him to drink what he would have had us drink," I said, glancing at the cup I had given Ozomatli.

Releasing the older boy I reached for the cup but the boy made a scramble for it and I had to restrain him, positioning myself between the cup and the younger boy who was about to make the same dash for it. "Stop where you are or I'll slash this one's throat," I warned the younger one, "and yours too if I have to." He glanced at our host and then at the older boy, his face white with fear but his eyes bright with desperation. That the two servant boys would try to spill the drink to prevent their master from having to drink it was commendable, but very unusual no matter how good a master he was.

"Do whatever they tell you," our host advised the two boys. "Just do not hurt them," he said, looking up at me and then Ozomatli pleadingly.

"A very noble request for a pair of servants. I would not have thought you would have cared," Ozomatli said, thinking the same as I.

"He is our father," the older boy said, glaring at the two of us angrily.

"You enlisted your own children in your plot to kill us?" I asked incredulously.

"They did not know the drinks were drugged," he replied.

"You involved your own children in something so dangerous?"

"I could not risk the servants or slaves knowing had I succeeded in poisoning you." In fact he had not risked them knowing he had contacted us at the very beginning, having sent his eldest son on that mission also.

"We cannot kill him," Ozomatli said, frowning at me, his eyes questioning what we should do. "Not in front of his children."

"Remove your father's loin cloth and tear it into strips," I ordered the younger boy, who hurried to do as I told him, the tone of my voice making it clear I would brook no nonsense. Ozomatli bound his ankles and then his wrists behind him and then having him kneel he bound his ankles and wrists together. "And your loincloth," I ordered. The boy removed his loincloth and tore it into strips and Ozomatli used a strip to gag his father. He used the remainder to gag the boy and his brother, and we then stripped off the older boy's loincloth to bind the two boys. Ozomatli hesitated. He looked at our host and his two sons, and then at me. "It is not right that he tries to kill us and goes unpunished."

"It isn't," I agreed, but what to do? From my experience others would not hesitate to kill the person and his entire family for such an offense.

"There should be some punishment to make him regret his actions," he suggested, continuing to look at the two boys.

"There should."

"They look tender," he said as if they could not hear as he continued to stare at them.

"They do," I agreed. I knew what he was thinking, and they were attractive, but the idea of forcing myself upon them did not appeal to me. The two boys looked up at us, their eyes wide with fear, and I suspected the older boy might have an idea what Ozomotli had in mind.

"It would be a just punishment, and a lesson to them what happens when you try to take a man's life," Ozomatli continued, I am not sure whether to convince me or to convince himself that what he was proposing was right.

"It would," I said though I was not sure I agreed.

Grabbing the older boy and dragging him over to his father, Ozomatli forced him to his knees and ripped off his gag. "Take your father's penis in your mouth," he ordered. That had not been what I had been thinking and his action surprised me. The boy looked up at him momentarily with surprise and uncertainty, and then with a look of defiance in his eyes. "Suck his cock, or I'll cut it off and shove it up your ass." The look of defiance was replaced with one of repugnance as he glanced at his father's crotch. The father glared at Ozomatli and mumbled his protest. Stepping forward, Ozomatli removed the man's gag.

"Your quarrel is with me, not the boy. Do what you will with me but leave the boy alone," the father pleaded.

"In your mouth, or up your ass," Ozomatli said to the boy, slowly withdrawing his dagger. "And say another word and I'll cut out your tongue," he warned the boy's father. His wrists and his ankles still tied, the boy dropped to his elbows and lowered his head. There was no doubt Ozomatli would have carried out his threat. The boy slipped his lips over his father's bulb and began to suck. After a moment Ozomatli ordered him to slide his lips up and down his father's shaft and he reluctantly obeyed, his cheeks flushing a bright red in embarrassment and his eyes filled with anger. His younger brother sat there watching wide-eyed with fear. I suspect neither boy had ever considered congress with another male. I'm sure they never considered engaging their father orally.

Removing his loincloth, Ozomatli began stroking himself as he watched boy and father and his member quickly stiffened. Drooling over his erect cock, he lubricated it with his spittle and then knelt behind the twelve-year-old boy.

"No! Not the boy! If you must, take me!" the boy's father cried, but Ozomatli ignored his plea.

The boy resisted, clamping his anus shut tightly, and he clenched his eyes and his teeth with the effort of resistance and the pain. His father cursed Ozomatli and warned him he would pay for this abuse, but Ozomatli ignored him and slapped the boy's buttocks solidly and repeatedly and ordered him to open up, and when the boy continued to resist he reached between the boys legs and squeezed his nuts tightly, causing the boy to cry out with pain and tears to flow down his cheeks. His father squirmed and tried to break loose and cursed all the more loudly but there was nothing he could do and the boy was no match for Ozomatli. The boy arched his back and cried out with pain and his cheeks turned a bright red with embarrassment as he was penetrated.

I should not have been, but I was surprised by Ozomatli's cruelty. We have both seen warriors not much older than this boy captured and repeatedly raped. As I have said before, the peoples of this land grow up fast and live a violent life where one rules by brawn, not brain. The man deserved this humiliation and the degradation of his sons. After all had intended on killing us to further his own ends after we had done everything he had asked of us. I myself was not finding forcing his son to suck him arousing, but I did find the man's humiliation satisfying. Knowing I was being expected to play my part, and knowing despite my misgivings I had to do something, I removed my loincloth and lubricating my cock with my spittle as Ozomatli had done, I dragged the eight-year-old boy over to his brother and forced him to his elbows and knees. The boy's father began his protest anew and I responded by retying his gag.

Focusing on the pleasure the shame and humiliation on the noble's face brought me and the fact the man had intended on killing me, I stroked my spit-slick cock as I knelt behind his eight-year-old son. To witness the rape of his two young sons would be just punishment, and no little pleasure for me. The boy was good-looking and had a delightful, smooth, compact ass. It would bring great pleasure penetrating it. I reached out and caressed it with my other hand and ran my middle finger up along his crack. Bending over, I let my drool trickle down his crack and I worked it into his anus with my finger. The boy tensed as I slowly inserted my finger up his rectum. He was innocent but his father had involved him in his plot, and now the two had to pay, and Ozomatli had been right, what better way to make the man pay than to have him watch helplessly while we used his sons, used them as he had used them, as he had used us. I slowly grew hard. It was easy to transfer my anger at the man to lust for his son.

Placing the tip of my cock against his anus, I slowly pushed forward. He was tight but his flesh offered little resistance. He inhaled deeply but to his credit he did not cry out as I penetrated him. Perhaps if he had, it would have stopped me. Sinking my cock up his rectum until my hairs were pressed against his smooth little bottom, I began to fuck him. As I worked my cock in and out of his hot, tight rectum, I noticed the boy's cock began to rise and to become firm and I reached around and played with it until it was stiff. He may be participating by force and humiliated and angered by my actions, but his mind and body could not deny the pleasure of having his asshole plugged by a thick, throbbing cock, or the pleasure of being fucked. By this time the boys' father had ceased struggling with his bonds and protesting. He clenched his eyes closed and I suspect he was trying to block what was happening from his mind, but he could not ignore what was happening to his son, nor what was happening to him as a result of his son's actions. There was nothing he could do about it, no more than he could prevent the inevitable what would happen to him.

It had taken a while but he had eventually become stiff as the physical stimulation overcame his humiliation and shame, and his breathing slowly became more labored as his older son worked his mouth up and down over his swollen cock and sucked on it. His brow furrowed as he concentrated harder, trying to stop the release of his seed, but he could not stop his flesh from responding and in my anger and own lust I found his humiliation and debasement satisfying and arousing and I began to fuck his younger son harder. Our would-be murderer began to breathe deeply and irregularly and suddenly his son gagged and drew his head away and his father sprayed his face with his thick slime as the first shots of his seed oozed out of his son's gaping mouth and down over his chin and the boy swallowed the remaining slime at the back of his throat.

Standing up and hauling the boy to his feet as his father finished spurting his seed on the ground, Ozomatli swung him around to face his younger brother, managing to keep his cock up the older boy's rectum all the while. Removing the younger boy's gag, he ordered him to suck his older brother. Despite his shame and apprehension, the older boy had become erect and his penis, slender and barely more than a hand's width in length, jutted up in the air above a pair of fair-sized stones. He had the beginning of a patch of silky, curly hair at the base of his little erection. The younger boy reluctantly slipped his mouth over his brother's erection as he had seen the boy do to their father and the older boy stood there in a daze, blobs of his father's seed clinging to his face and a film coating his lips. Driven by lust and revenge, Ozomatli and I resumed fucking the two brothers, roughly thrusting our swollen cocks in and out of their bodies as the younger one sucked the older, their wrists and ankles still tightly bound by the torn strips of loincloth.

I had seen warriors rape men they had captured in battle and I had been disgusted and perplexed by the sight and the thought, unable to see how a man could find pleasure in forcing himself upon another, forcing him to participate in an act that was supposed to bring pleasure, especially one who was his enemy. As I rammed my cock in and out of the eight-year-old boy's compact little butt as we forced him to suck off his brother while he was similarly being raped, before their bound and gagged father, I had a sense now how those warriors had felt. By shaming and dominating the sons, I was shaming and dominating the father, and that was pleasurable. He had tried to poison Ozomatli and me so we could not reveal his treachery against a fellow noble, and he had entangled and risked the lives of his two innocent children in his plot. His humiliation and debasement were deserved, and Ozomatli and I were justified in being the executioners of his punishment. That his two sons had to be the instruments by which we achieved that punishment was unfortunate, but was the will of the gods for man has no control over his fate. It was the right thing to do.

The humiliation and shame in the man's eyes and the knowledge that he was the cause of his sons' abuse and the pleasure that brought me, a pleasure even greater than the throbbing pleasure between my legs, was proof of that. When I thought about what I had done later after the heat of anger and revenge and the heat of flesh lust had cooled, I realized that having power and domination over another and engaging in sex with another against his will are very much the same and must be controlled by the same humors in the body. Indeed, the humors that cause lust to override rational thought and cause anger to override reason must be the same for both are matters of emotion ruling over mind.

At the moment of course there was no time for philosophical thought nor consideration of the nature of the humors that control one's actions. Ozomatli and I rammed our swollen cocks in and out of the virgin assholes of the two boys, enjoying the pleasure of our throbbing cocks and their hot, tight assholes as much as the pleasure of punishing the man who had tried to poison us, the one pleasure supporting and intensifying the other and sending our hot blood racing through our veins and throbbing through our benumbed cocks. We grasped the hips of the two boys and grunted and gasped with the exertion and the pleasure, our swollen members and the hot flesh surrounding them pulsating as one and the rims of our cockheads and the rims of the boys' assholes burning with the same sweet pain. When we finally began filling the rectums of the two brothers with our seed, much to their father's horror, I am sure, the older boy began to spurt, filling his younger brother's mouth with the thin seed of a twelve-year-old, and as the eight-year-old swallowed his brother's seed he quivered with his own orgasm.

A mix of pleasure and revulsion had to be filling the younger boy's mind, his little cocklet throbbing with the first orgasm of his life, the taste of his brother's cock and of his brother's seed on his lips and on his mind. His brother had to be feeling the same conflicting emotions, feeling pleasure with the release of his own seed, still exciting and a novelty at the age of twelve, but feeling revulsion in that he was spurting his seed into his younger brother's mouth, the taste of their father's seed on his tongue and fresh in his mind. Having their rectums flooded with the seed of a man in front of each other and in front of their father had to have added to their revulsion and shame. I was filled with an unusual sense of satisfaction, the physical pleasure of releasing my seed and the exhilaration of having gotten my revenge on this arrogant, conniving noble who had tried to use me and kill me, humiliating him and his sons, combining mental and physical pleasure in a way I have never before experienced. From the look on his face, I am sure Ozomatli was feeling the same as I was.

Having the boys lie back to back, we tied their wrists and ankles together and gagged them, and leaving them there with their father, we made our escape. One of them would work his bonds loose and free the others, or they would eventually be discovered and freed, by one of the slaves or servants arising early to begin the day's routine, or perhaps by the man's wife, bringing them added humiliation which would sit well with both of us. As we hurried down the street, the cool night air brought us to our senses.

"We will have to leave," Ozomatli observed.

"We will," I agreed.

We left that very night, gathering up our belongings and heading north. There was no doubt the noble would seek his revenge, and there was no doubt the only thing that would bring him satisfaction, and of course security, would be our deaths. Initially we had no specific plan other than to escape the city, but once we had decided to do so there was really only one direction to go, north and east to the Ch'orti' Maya. We maintained a brisk trot throughout the day despite the lack of sleep the night before and the humidity and the heat, fear for our lives being a good incentive. We slept in the jungle that night, purposefully avoiding others who might later be asked about our passage. Though exhausted, I slept poorly, fearing for my safety and torn by what I had done. We awoke before dawn the next day and continued on our way, alert to any signs of pursuit. We talked little and encountered few others along the path and once again we slept in the jungle alone that night, giving me much time throughout the day and night to think about what we had done.

There was no question that seeking my revenge against the noble by humiliating him and shaming him had been satisfying. The man had plotted our deaths the moment he had hired us to spy for him, and deserved what he had gotten. To me, having to live with the guilt of having included his innocent sons in his plot to kill us and as such being the cause of their own humiliation and debasement was a far more severe and a far more fitting punishment than if we had killed him, which I have no doubt anyone else would have done instead, and probably his sons along with him. Of much greater concern, and to my great shame and consternation, there was no question I had also enjoyed humiliating his two sons. The look on the older boy's face as he prepared to suck his father's cock and then the look on the younger boy's face when he was about to do the same to his older brother and the thought of their innocence and humiliation being forced to engage in these acts in front of their father had been arousing. Fucking the two unwilling youngsters in front of each other and in front of their father had also brought me pleasure and I cannot deny that their reluctance had added to that pleasure. After almost two years of living with these savages I had become one.

After eating the next morning and bending before a river to wash my face and teeth, for I had not only adopted that unnatural savage ritual but felt unclean if I did not perform it, I saw the reflection of my face, bronzed by the unrelenting sun, blue crescents tattooed under my eyes, gold rings hanging from my earlobes and a gold plug in my nose, and the reflection of my body, sun-darkened, tattooed and naked except for the loincloth, a face and body of a savage. I not only acted like a savage, I looked like one. There was no more denying the lust and power that had coursed through my veins and caused my member to swell and throb with pleasure the night we raped those two innocent boys than there was denying my savage appearance. I lacked any morals or virtues, worshiped cruel and avenging gods and forsook the god of my upbringing, and I lived for the pleasures of the flesh, pleasures of the worst kind, that of my own gender, and even worse, of children. I had become an uncivilized, unprincipled, heathen savage. I would not be surprised if next I sacrificed a child, to Xochipilli or Chin perhaps, holding up his beating heart with his blood streaming down my arms, collecting his blood and presenting it at the altar of those profane gods, saving some to bake in a bread and eating it.

As each day passed and we found ourselves another sixteen miles further away and the chances of pursuit being that much less, we relaxed a little more. Each night I thanked God for His Mercy and prayed that it continue. Ozomatli and I did not talk about what we had done throughout our entire journey. Nor did we have sex with each other. We arrived ten days later, traveling from sunrise to sunset, eager to be as far away from Q'umarkaj as we could. Why the noble did not seek revenge, or if he had tried and failed, I will never know, but I like to believe God heard my plea and knew in my heart I had not meant the two boys I had transgressed any harm. (2)

The Ch'orti' were once a large and powerful nation, but like many of the Maya, they had reached their peak and their cities were in decline and were now largely abandoned and crumbling. Again I pondered the way of nations and the will of God and the nature of man and why nations grew in power and flourished and then declined to be replaced by another. I had no answer. Even though they had long ago lost their might and glory, they continued their old customs and habits, hoping I concluded, that their rituals would once more find favour with the gods and they would be restored to their positions of grandeur. When the opportunity arose, I suggested the idea of a new god for new times, an all-knowing and merciful god, one who demanded the foreskin of his male worshippers but did not ask for repeated piercing of his manhood, and who was appeased by the sacrifice of lambs but not His own followers. My quiet and unassuming preaching, I am happy to say, fell on attentive ears and I am hopeful that I planted the seed that others following me might nurture and bring to fruit. And, I hope, in that very small way I was able to atone for my many and grievous sins.

Of course not everyone was prepared to hear, and I had to tread cautiously. The evening after our arrival was the appearance of the crescent of the new moon, and the arrival was celebrated by the sacrifice of slaves in the central plaza. As I stood there beside Ozomatli and slave after slave mounted the temple steps and lay down on the sacrificial stone to have his heart ripped out of his body and raised before the cheering crowds who jostled each other for a better view as they downed jugs of octli and munched on tamales and red-hot peppers I wondered how any sane person could believe that this taking of lives and spilling of blood could be demanded by any god of his or her followers, or how anyone could believe it would result in good fortune. I also had to wonder if there was anywhere in these Indies where this senseless bloodshed was not practised.

As daunting as it was, over the subsequent days and weeks I continued my ministry, if not for the souls of these ignorant heathens, then for my own as I entertained by panpipe and song and storytelling, Ozomatli and I being in high demand being different and new in the city.

The following afternoon we witnessed a game of pitz, which is played in a court shaped like an "I" and about a hundred feet long enclosed with sloping walls twice the height of a man. Played by two teams of two players each wearing hip guards, kneepads, and headdresses, the goal was to hit a ball the size of a human head made from tree gum down the alley using only the hips, knees and shoulders and passing it from player to player and through a hoop at the end of the alley. They played rough and ferociously, players often ending up with broken bones or cracked skulls despite the protective padding. I discovered there was a good reason for playing so viciously. The losing team was decapitated!

That night we entertained at the home of one of the nobles who had supported the winning team. The guests feasted on wild duck and tamed turkey served in a rich mushroom sauce and on plates of berries and melons and cornmeal tortillas with several types of bean sauces and plates of tamales stuffed with hot peppers, all washed down with frothy xocolatl seasoned with vanilla. The winning team and the honoured guests were served god mushrooms, Teonanácatl, dipped in honey and washed down with tlitliltzin. I was told our host was hoping for a vision of his future for there were rumors one of the four leaders of the city, the head of his clan, was ill and our host was one of the leading contenders to take over his position. These people hold great stock in visions and magic. One of the elders told of his father's father personally witnessing the magical transformation of one of their former great kings, from the K'iche Kingdom at from what he said I gathered was almost a hundred years ago, into a snake, an eagle, a jaguar, and blood, and who could fly and had visited the underworld, xibalba. There were none at the party who questioned such outrageous and impossible feats and many who dreamed of performing such magical feats themselves. (3)

Ozomatli and I discretely helped ourselves to whatever was being offered the guests. Myself, I was trying to forget the bloody sacrifices and the decapitations on the playing court and sought out the intoxicating drinks and drug-laced food, and our host sparing no expenses there were plenty to be had. Everyone was in a festive mood and as the evening wore on most were showing the effects of the drugged food and drink. Before things became blurred, I saw Ozomatli heading off arm in arm with our host, an older man probably two and a half times Ozomatli's age. Some time later I found myself on a sleeping mat between the two winning ball players, young men a couple years older than myself, twenty or twenty-one, Men Kahn whose name meant Sea Snake, and Chak Muan, Great Screech Owl.

By that time I had no idea what drugs I had taken nor how many. Men Kahn and Chak Muan kept coming in and out of focus and I could not understand a word they were saying, my vision and hearing blurred, and my loins aching with lust, the latter not an unusual state for me. Both were handsome, athletic young men, and I remember kissing and embracing first one and then the other and lying between them and being kissed and caressed by both. There were many that night, male and female, who were envious of me. We were lying on our backs on a reed mat and I was stroking Men Khan's cock with one hand and Chak Muan's with the other and the two of them were alternately stroking my swollen cock and rolling my sweating balls. Ripples of pleasure pulsated through my cock and the mat turned into a boat that rocked on the sea in time with my throbbing cock and I was grasping not their rock-hard cocks but a pair of thick, sturdy oars. My head spun and my vision blurred and we were floating high above in the clouds and their cocks had taken the shape of wings which I was stroking and using as oars, dipping them in the clouds.

I gasped for breath and shivered with the pleasure as my cock throbbed like a bleeding, beating heart, and Chak Muan's cock turned into a snake in my hand that twisted and grew, weaving above me and dropping, jaws wide open, and swallowed my head as I stroked it and Men Khan turned into a snake and went down on the bleeding, beating heart between my legs. My knob itched and burned as Men Khan's venom flowed about it, corroding the flesh while Chak Muan developed wings and dug his talons into me and lifted me up into the clouds high above the earth, his snake releasing my head and twisting down to penetrate my asshole, filling my rectum and penetrating so deep I could feel it pulsating in my belly and Men Khan caressed my chest and pinched my nipples, causing them to become hard and to burn like the rim of my cock which he continued to suck.

My swollen cock became a snake and gagged Men Kahn, causing him to release it, and him and my cock entwined, wrapping about each other. My anus was burning and I jerked my hips to and fro, riding Chak Muan's cock and grunting and snorting with the pangs of pleasure ripping up my asshole and he began to squirt, filling me with his seed as he wrapped his muscular arms and thighs about my body and rode me. The three of us swirled and spiraled in the air, locked together, Chak Muan up my ass and Men Khan and I with our arms and legs wrapped about each other as we sucked on each other's swollen snake. And then Men Khan came, his bloated cock throbbing in my mouth, and I drank his semen, thick and white and copious and I came also and he eagerly swallowed my seed. We swirled higher and higher above the earth and then turned and plummeted, racing toward the earth but at the last moment lifted up by the winds and tossed toward the moon, the three of us locked together as one, our seed cementing us together as we bounced across the heavens.

And then I was sucking Chak Muan, his cock coated with his seed and my ass slime, and Men Khan was fucking me, his swollen cock becoming larger and larger like a python until I was sure it would split my belly open and then it was spitting his venom up my rectum as Chak Muan's seed shot down my throat. The very air was vibrating and in the distance in the center of a rainbow that totally circled him I saw a man all of glittering gold on a high mountain smiling and beckoning me to join him.

I slept much of the next day, exhausted and bruised, my eyes burning and my head throbbing with pain as if someone had spent the night thwacking it with the flat of a sword. When I was awake, I thought about what had happened the previous night, what little of it I could recall, and I thought of the life these Ch'orti' Maya lived, and the other tribes and Kingdoms we had visited since our flight from Tenochtitlán. I saw Ozomatli later that day and he informed me he had been asked to join our host from last night as his whore wife, second only to the female who had born the man's children, and I could tell that he was of a mind to do so. I informed him that I had a new vision, and had to go south. And so it was, that the following morning we parted, each to go his own way.

Chapter 18
Captured and Rescued

Parting with Ozomatli, Nico travels through what is now Honduras where he encounters the polygamous Torrupan who keep male and female harems and who reward him with a night with a harem boy for his medical skills.  He is captured and raped by Paya warriors.  Rescued by the Cuzcatlecs he has revenge on his rapists as he travels with his rescuers through what is now El Salvador.

Characters:  12 yo harem boy after curing toothache of noble, Paya and Cuzcatlec hunters; 10 yo child of cocoa growers

Leaving the Ch'orti', I headed south and west along the central highlands for no other reason than I had come from the north and knew what lay there and I knew the Great Ocean Sea lay to the east. It was a dismal journey. I had finally accepted that this was not Cipango nor some island in the Cipango Sea that lay beyond Portugal and to the east of the Spice Lands as the Admiral had believed and instead I was trekking across lands hitherto unknown by my countrymen. That should have been exciting and should have filled me with curiosity, but instead I found it discouraging and daunting. I had also come to the realization that there was scant hope that the land of the Great Khan still lay to the west of this land mass, and it was even more doubtful that it lay beyond this other Great Ocean Sea. That too was discouraging, but worst of all was the realization that I was completely and totally lost. Unlike my journey across the lands of the heathen Saracens, I had absolutely no idea where I was nor how to find my way home and that filled me with despair.

I greatly missed the companionship of Ozomatli and the days were long and lonely and the nights even more so, but it was well that we had parted company for I was in a foul mood and would have been no fit companion. As a result of my depressing thoughts, black bile filled my body and flowed through my veins, causing me such melancholy that I rose each day with less and less purpose to go on. I knew I could not continue this way and so I captured a half dozen leeches, no difficult task for they seem to thrive in these warm waters, and attached them to my arms and legs and chest to suck out the bad blood, and I cleansed my body by chewing the leaves of a plant that had a lemony taste whose name I did not know but which I knew from past shaman teachers would purify my blood.

I succeeded in my task only to develop instead an imbalance of choler which left me irritable as it does when it accumulates in a woman once a month unless she is heavy with child or beyond childbearing years, but I could think of no cause for it and I knew of no treatment that could counteract it other than a sweat lodge and I had none. I hoped that Ozomatli was fairing better with his choice than I was with mine and that he was safe and happy and without regrets as I plodded along, mindlessly placing one foot before the other day after accursed day. The trails I followed were narrow but clear so I walked as briskly as I could to build up a sweat which did seem to dissipate the choler.

Being alone left me much time to think and my mind took great delight in dwelling on the bitter thoughts of ill-made past choices and decisions, and so to distract such sombre thoughts I thought instead of the Ch'orti' and their crumbling, half-filled cities and their blind following of rituals and customs of a past time, and of their great pride even though they were no longer as powerful and feared as they once were. The more that I thought of that it gave me cause to wonder if that was the way of all nations, to climb in power and influence over other nations only to decline as another ascending nation took their place.

I could think of many such nations. Ancient Athens defeated by Sparta only to become subject to Thebes, Imperial Rome sacked by the northern barbarians and the Persians in the east, the mighty Egypt of the pharaohs trampled under the feet of the Persians also, and the Persians rising only to fall to the Macedonian armies lead by Alexander the Great whose great empire collapsed upon his death, they all had their days of glory and might, and they all eventually declined and were conquered. In my own beloved homeland the Moors had once swept over the country and spread their filthy habits and barbaric customs throughout the land, but the heathen oppressors are now driven out and the Grand Kingdom of Granada was reduced to a rubble of ruins only two years ago.

Now Portugal and Castile are vying for each other's land and poor beloved Alfonso was murdered because of it only seven weeks after his sixteenth birthday and before his young bride could conceive an heir. There in the thick, lush jungles of this strange unnamed land I thought of him, his beauty, his vibrancy, his dreams for Portugal, of his cold corpse lying on the beach, and yes, of our congress with each other and our congress with others now so long ago, and I wept for him, and for me, and for Portugal. Now Portugal and Castile are competing to establish trade routes and colonies in the Great Dark Continent of Africa and in the mystical Far East, one striving to dominate the other.

As I hiked along alone in this strange, foreign land, I mused what the outcome of that struggle might be. King Joáo was strong, but so were King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Castile. Which would become the more powerful, and would one win over the other only to succumb to the Turkoman Empire threatening the western world and all of the Christian Faith from the east? And who was left to defend the Christian faith against the heathens? The Knights Templars were once the defenders only to fall into disrepute and their properties turned over to the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem, of which I am a member. Will we prevail over the Ottoman Turks? I have witnessed their skill at arms and their dedication to their Emperor and their god Allah firsthand, and I do not know.

What causes one nation or one army to become more powerful than all others? Riches? Skilled leaders? Better trained soldiers? The Grace of God? And what causes their reverse in fortune? The Tenochca and the Maya would say it was the disfavour of the gods, and insufficient blood sacrifice. They would call for more slaves and captives so they could have their hearts ripped out, and they would slice their foreskins to give the most precious of their own blood. I mused that perhaps they are right, for no nations in the civilized world ever engaged in such perverse practices and every one has risen only to suffer defeat. That of course was irrational thinking, I quickly realized, for the lives of these people were even less secure that those of the civilized nations as they were being threatened daily and their kingdoms too rose and fell like all others.

Such were my dour and lofty thoughts as I plodded along the pathways and trails through the land held by the Torrupan. Hunters and fishermen, they were spread out over the highlands in small villages and were not ruled by chiefs nor by a higher king, having only temporary war chiefs when the need arose, causing me to ponder if that might not be the better way of things. They did not even have shamans and as such my knowledge and skills in treating wounds and minor ailments was held in much esteem and resulted in a warm reception wherever I went, my reputation preceding me. They were of medium height, being on the average fifteen and a half hands tall, and had much lighter skin than those tribes I have encountered so far, being more of a copper colour. They had thick lips and high cheekbones and wore their coarse, black hair parted in the middle and bound by a headband so it hung shoulder-length on the sides and behind. Unlike almost all other tribes I have encountered, they had no tattoos nor piercings and they found mine most curious. (1)

The men who by their strength or skill were more able hunters and fishermen had multiple wives for they were able to support them and their children. The children too dominated by strength, older and stronger boys bullying and even raping younger boys and girls, even brothers and sisters. It was considered a part of growing up, of survival. Most married around the age of twenty. Myself, I could not imagine a man wanting more than one wife, nor having a family in which my brothers and sisters had different mothers. It seemed to me most strange but this was not the first tribe I had encountered those who had such a practice, and it was common practice among the wealthy Saracens with whom I had lived for a time in my wanderings of the Middle East. Nor is it a practice only of the heathens. The Bible teaches us that early Christians had both multiple wives and concubines and I have yet met a king in these lands or any others I have travelled through who can rival David or Solomon in number of wives and concubines.

Temperatures during the day were pleasant, not unlike my native Portugal in early summer though it was now November, but it did cool off at night, making me appreciate having the thick vest I had obtained by barter two weeks earlier, and as I climbed in elevation the cooler it became. Rainfall was infrequent but the forests were thick as at higher elevations they were constantly submerged in cloud. Wildlife was abundant in these lush cloud forests, especially birds: quetzal, brightly-coloured toucans, and large parrots and many whose names I did not know. There were deer, several types of pigs, and at least three types of monkeys.

One rather large monkey that stood up to my waist and weighed up to about a stone and a half had a terrible howl that could be heard up to two miles away and sent a shiver of dread up my spine each time I heard it. Red-furred with a black, bearded face and black hands and feet and travelling in bands of two to forty-five, I was told they ate leaves and fruit, but I still found them most frightening. Another, smaller in size and yellow-grey to brown in colour, had long, slender limbs and a long tail that served as a fifth limb. Extremely agile and capable of impossibly huge leaps from tree to tree, they also travelled in packs. The third were small creatures, standing only three to six hands hall. They travelled in large troops at the tops of tall trees and were the more savage, eating not only fruit but small animals. Feeding on these animals were the most dangerous of the animals, the cats–jaguar, ocelot, puma and lynx–whose tracks I had learned to recognize and whom I avoided. (2)

I travelled more slowly in these steep, mist-covered mountains, covering I estimated fifteen miles a day, but I travelled steadily, finding no reason to tarry. As I have said, my knowledge of herbs and cures for simple ailments put me in good stead with these people who paid me for treating them with food and shelter and on occasion the company at night of one of their wives, which of course I humbly declined, upon which they sometimes offered a young boy when they learned such was my preference.

Such was the case after preparing an ointment for a noble to relieve the pain of a toothache, a rare occurrence among these people for as I have mentioned, besides their obsession with washing their body and especially their hands, they take great care to rinse out their mouths after eating and chew green twigs which I believe removes the bits of food that catch in the teeth and cause them to begin to rot. I myself have adopted this practice, at first in deference to my hosts but subsequently with the realization that unlike my countrymen these peoples have strong, white teeth, and should, our Merciful God be willing, I ever return to my homeland, I intend on sharing this new knowledge with my liege and countrymen whom I am sure will be most appreciative when they realize the pain I will be saving them.

The nobleman had two wives and a harem of three young boys between the ages of twelve and fifteen, the wives both pregnant and the boys all good-looking and strong. He confessed to me he would have a harem of young girls but to keep peace with his wives, who played a much more dominant role among these peoples than women in my homeland, he had young boys instead. That was not a hardship, he added with a twinkle in his eyes, for a boy brought just as much pleasure and was less trouble. I was reminded of a saying I had heard while living with the heathens, that a woman was a duty and a boy was a pleasure, but a melon was sheer delight, which I shared with him and he howled with such delight he doubled over with laughter.

And so it was that he gifted me his youngest harem boy, a boy of twelve summers, whom he had only recently obtained from a man who had many children, sons and daughters, in return for game as the man's arm had been crippled in battle recently, making it impossible for him to hunt for his family. He was proud that he was able to help the older man, and the man was pleased that he had accepted his son in payment of his debt, and the boy was proud that he was so valued for the man was an esteemed member of the tribe and a skilled hunter and warrior who treated him well. It was all contrary to my Christian beliefs, but with everyone so pleased, who was I to question such practice? The corner of the room I had been given for sleeping was partitioned off by blankets for privacy but everyone in the house knew that the boy had joined me and what we would be doing.

Despite the openness of the people of these lands regarding sexual activity and despite how long I have lived with these peoples, I was still self-conscious and embarrassed as the young boy joined me that night. As we removed our loincloths, I could not help wondering what sort of father gave away his son to be a concubine, or what sort of father openly had congress with a twelve-year-old boy. The father was proud that his son was that attractive that a man would want him as his concubine. The man's wives were happy that they had a husband who provided for them, giving them food and shelter and protection, and healthy children, and sought satisfaction for his lust with a boy, leaving them alone in their pregnancy. The man was happy, and the boy was honoured to be his concubine. I had no cause for concern, yet it bothered me for it was not what I had been taught was right.

Dropping to his knees, the boy took my member in his hand and gently stroked it as he nibbled the tender inside of my thighs. My member of course quickly responded as I looked down at this smooth-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed young boy as he slipped his lips over the bulb of my cock and began to suck. As pleasure pierced my knob, I inhaled deeply, placing my hands on the young boy's shoulders for balance. His muscles were still softly rounded with youth but firm and solid from daily practice with bow and spear. He slipped his lips up and down my shaft as he continued to suck on my member, his eyes partially closed as he savoured my cock. He was skilled in what he was doing, and he took pride in doing it well. He paused to allow my lust to subside and stroked his own member, now hard and a hand-width long, a silky, triangular patch of hair spreading up over his flat stomach from it indicating he was old enough to produce seed himself.

He then resumed sucking on my stiff cock, bringing me renewed pleasure, and I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes and concentrated on that pleasure. My cock went numb and I inhaled still more deeply as the tension in my loins increased and I felt the twang deep in my groin that announced the release of my seed. It burned up the core of my cock and out the tip and I shuddered as my slime filled the young boy's mouth. He allowed it to collect until my bulb was basting in my slime, and then he slipped his lips off my cock and swallowed.

We lay down, the boy curled in my arms, and rested, my member limp and a droplet of my slime clinging to the tip, the taste of my slime and my cock in the boy's mouth. As I felt the lust rising in my loins again, I reached down and stroked the young boy's cocklet, now limp but quickly responding to my touch. As I stroked his little cock my own began to swell once again. This time he coated it with a bit of fat and he wiped his greasy fingers along his crack, inserting first his middle finger and then his pointer finger up his rectum. He then assumed the position on his hands and knees and I knelt behind him and grasping his hips, eased my greased member up his lubricated hole. He was tight and hot and moist, and I sank my cock up his rectum until my coarse hairs were pressed against his buttocks. Grasping his hips, I began to pump my swollen cock in and out of his rectum and he worked with me, tightening his anus as I withdrew and relaxing as I sank my cock back up his backside.

I fucked him slowly so as to enjoy the pleasure longer and when I felt the urge building I paused to allow it to subside and closed my eyes and savoured the delight of having my stiff, swollen cock up the backside of a smooth, handsome, twelve-year-old boy. As I resumed fucking him, he squirmed with delight, enjoying our congress as much as I was. He stretched his body and flexed the muscles of his arms and legs as I worked my cock in and out of his smooth, compact ass, and his breathing became more laboured. I was breathing heavily myself as I felt the pressure building up in my loins until I could hold back no longer and I began filling his rectum with my seed. He quivered with delight, and then with a sharp intake of breath, began to squirt also, his thin, watery seed spurting out of his stiff little cocket and causing it to jerk erratically. Grasping his hips tightly, I threw back my head in delight as the two of us spilled our seed together.

To the east of the Torrupan were the Paya, a warlike people who were also hunters and fishermen and who were also spread out through the jungle in small competing tribes. I tried to avoid them as much as I could, as did the Torrupan, though that was not always possible. Passing out of the territory occupied by the Torrupan, I came by chance across a hunting party of six Paya braves, returning to their tribe after a successful hunt, two wild pigs slung from poles carried by four of the braves. I immediately gestured my peaceful intentions and the fact that I was a storyteller and a medicine man. I was clearly of no threat to them, but they saw the opportunity for another sort of sport. Although greatly outnumbered, I had a large advantage, my sword, and I did not yield without a fight, disabling and severely wounding two of them. My fight, and my possession of such a weapon, only increased their determination to capture me. After doing so, and seeing to their wounds, they turned their attention to me. From the looks in their eyes and the glances they gave each other, their intention was clear, and soon I was stripped and bound to one of the trees.

The leader of the group, whom I estimated to be in his late twenties from his looks, knelt behind me and pulling apart my buttocks, spit at my anus. I felt his warm spittle oozing down my crack and into my stretched hole. He spit several times and roughly poked at my anus with his pointer finger. He then stood and grasping my hips, he bent his legs and positioned the tip of his cock against my hole. Spitting on my anus and anticipating my rape had evidently aroused him as his member was stiff. I of course clamped my anus shut but it was a futile effort as he chopped me in the sides, sending a sharp stab of pain through my stomach and loins. His lust was stronger than my resistance and I felt his member relentlessly pressing against my anus until at last he forced his knob into my rectum.

Sinking his cock deep up my body, he began fucking me furiously, driven more by anger and the need to dominate me than by lust or the desire for pleasure. The act itself really had nothing to do with pleasure for his sole purpose was to use me and to humiliate me. I was finding no pleasure either as I pulled against my bonds which painfully cut into my wrists but to no avail. He was soon spurting his seed up my rectum and he withdrew before he was done so his companions could see he had spilt his seed.

He was quickly followed by a second brave who easily penetrated me, my anus raw and sore and now lubricated with the slippery seed of the other man. He too fucked me furiously, ramming his body against mine as he thrust his hips to and fro, driving his stiff cock in and out of my body. He also was soon done and quickly replaced by the third of their party. By this time my anus was raw and bleeding and I hung there lifelessly, knowing to continue fighting was futile. I closed my eyes but could not close my ears and the panting and gasping of the man using me and his hot breath against the back of my neck sent shivers of disgust down my spine. The fourth brave, the youngest, whom I figured to be about sixteen, took his turn, and like the others, he was mercifully quick, though I know mercy had nothing to do with it. The other two men were too badly wounded to stick me with their members, but they had enough strength left to jab at me with their spears and to spit on my body and in my face and to call me names, declaring me to be weak and a woman.

They rested then and with daylight we headed east, our progress slow as the two braves I had wounded had to be helped and had to stop frequently to rest. That evening we made camp and they roasted a couple birds they had caught. I was given water but no food. After they ate, they turned their attention to me. They joked about using me and called me weak and woman again, and they again raped me, this time the two injured men managing to join in. There was no pleasure in the act and I hung there limply, allowing them to use my body, blocking out their insults. So content were they with the ravaging of my body, they paid no attention to the contents of the two packs I was carrying. Besides, I was a medicine man and shaman, and though they succumbed to their base instincts for pleasure of the flesh, they were not about to endanger their souls by pilfering a holy man's possessions.

As the sun began to set on the third day and I was dreading what I knew awaited me, we were suddenly attacked, two of my captors falling dead with arrows through their chests before I even realized what was happening. A group of Cuzcatlec hunters had come across our trail while pursing an injured deer who had not been able to keep up with the herd after it had been attacked by a jungle cat, but who been spared death when a younger member of the herd had come between it and the predator and had been downed instead by the cat. The battle was fierce, but in the end the Cuzcatlec warriors had the element of surprise and won out. Tying up my captors, they freed me and then satisfied their hunger, cooking one of the two pigs the Paya had caught.

After seeing to their hunger, they saw to another need that all men have, and to my satisfaction they tied the three braves who still lived to trees and used them as the Paya had used me. I joined in, choosing the leader of the group. There was no real pleasure for me, not sexually, but there was pleasure in spitting in the man's face, and raping him. It was not the first time I had congress with a man in anger, and as I brutally rammed my cock in and out of his ass, seeking my own pleasure and my revenge, and finally squirted my seed up the man's ass I thought of how he had used me and how easily one sunk to the same level. I was ashamed of what I had done later, but I was vindicated. My actions were justified in my mind if not before my God, and that was the more important. An eye for an eye. I had my way with the younger brave also that night to the cheers of my rescuers and I slept contentedly.

As I have said earlier, I had seen men raping other men they have taken captive in war and their actions had always bewildered me and disgusted me. I could never understand how one could find delight in forcing another man to play the passive role in the congress of two men until that night Ozomatli and I had raped the two young sons of the K'iche' noble who had tried to poison us. Now, once again, I took joy in forcing myself upon another, perhaps even greater joy in that these same men had forced themselves upon me and had taken great delight in humiliating me. It was a fair turn of events. I realize now that there is a fine line between pleasure and revenge and between lust and anger, and that there are times when the boundary between the two becomes blurred. And may my God condemn me to hell for saying so and for doing so, but there are times when rape is justified. When we were done, my rescuers took arrows of the Paya and shoved them up the anuses of the two dead men, symbolically sodomizing them as I had seen the Thimogona do many months ago and many miles away. (3)

The next morning I travelled back west with my rescuers and our captives. Their hatred and contempt for the Paya was strong and apparently longstanding and mentioned frequently throughout the day, and in the evenings there was much bravado and bragging about how they had been demeaned and used as women. My rescuers appeared to give no thought to the fact that before their arrival the Paya had demeaned and used me as a woman, and that I had to be feeling as humiliated and defiled as the Paya were now. It was as if they had blocked my own rape out of their memories, something I desperately wished I could do. Their coarse jokes and humour about being raped made for an uncomfortable and awkward relationship between us.

It was also strange travelling with them having the secret knowledge of having traded six of their countrymen as surplus slaves while with the Maya K'iche'. If they had known that, they would have surely raped me along with the Paya. Such is the uncertainty and upheaval of life in this land. One day one is a farmer and the next day one is marching off to battle by orders of some lord. One day one can be plying his trade and the next day he could be dead, the casualty of a raid by an enemy or an attack by a hungry predator. One day one can be a free man, even a master, and the next day a slave. One day one can be the victim of rape and the next he can be the rapist. Life is harsh and unpredictable one must be tough and adaptable to survive in this land. The longer I live with these savages the more I understand their behaviour and its causes, and, the more I am becoming one of them. This is not the first time I have come to that realization, and it causes me far greater consternation than my rape or the fact that I have raped, or even the very real possibility of my death any moment of my day.

As I marched along with my new companions, weary, dejected and sore, I had plenty of time to ponder the twists and turns of fate and to wonder what determines an individual's fortune. Is it a matter of chance, being in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time, like the young deer who had come between the cat and its intended prey? A few candle marks earlier or later and I would not have crossed paths with the Paya and would not have been captured and raped. Had the game they were tracking taken a different fork in the path the Cuzcatlec would not have come across the trail of the Paya and I would be marching with them instead with my wrists bound, destined to become someone's slave and satisfying his lust at night, or if I displeased him, sold or even killed. That one's future and even life depends on chance is a frightening possibility.

If it is not chance, then what is it that determines one's future? Is one's fate part of some greater design preordained by some supreme power? Many believe it is so. Ancient Greek and Roman gods frequently intervened in the lives of mortals. The Tenochca certainly believed their gods did, in every aspect of their lives, and they offered their gods the most precious thing they possessed, their blood and their lives. Does not the Bible say ours is a vengeful God? A fearsome God? Perhaps what happens on earth depends on His whims or the whims of other gods for His or their own amusement. It could be that we are mere playing pieces in their grand game, the name of which is unknown to us and the rules of which are too complex for mere mortals to understand. That possibility is just as frightening.

Could the determination of one's fate be personal? Was my rape punishment for past behaviour and transgressions? God certainly had many reasons to be angry with me and to wish my punishment. Could it be part of some overall plan God has for me? Perhaps my rape had been to prepare me for my subsequent role as a rapist, or perhaps it was part of His plan to change me from a civilized Christian to a savage heathen for the many sins I have committed. Was it perhaps some test, as He had tested Lot and Job? Perhaps my rape and humiliation were to prepare me for my ministry in this foreign land, to humble me so I may become a better Christian and bring His Word to these heathens. I have tried to do so. Perhaps this was His way of telling me to try harder. That there was a reason for what had befallen me was less frightening even if I was unable to determine what that reason was.

Such were my weighty thoughts while my companions focussed their thoughts and senses on the detection of food and enemies as we made our way back to their village. Past experiences told me my best chances of survival with these people was as a story teller and so that was the role I assumed. I told them of my experiences with the Maya and the Tenochca, and I recited legends I had learned as a priest of Xochipilli, my skill as a storyteller entertaining them and earning me their respect for one commonality of all the peoples I have met in this land is their love for stories. I told them other stories besides, good Christian legends and parables I had been told by Father Francisco and by Father as a child, stories designed to frighten me and to serve as examples to guide me in my choices later in life. These simple people being eager for new tales, and these stories having never been told before, my audience listened with rap attention.

Mindful of earlier promises to bring the Word of the Lord to these ignorant savages and of the possibility that what had befallen me was punishment for failing to have done so, or part of God's plan to make me a better missionary, I embraced my new calling. Seeing my repentance, God strengthened my voice and my resolve to spread His Word so that each night I spoke more and more fervently and with greater and greater passion and my audience listened with greater and greater amazement and wonder. During the day I was oblivious of the passage of time as my mind dwelled on the sermon I would deliver that night. When I spoke and I saw the wonder in their eyes I knew how Father Francisco felt when he delivered his sermons, and I understood how such awe and reverence could turn a man into a fanatic like Girolamo Savonarola for I was becoming one myself. (4)

When we reached their capital, Cuzcatlan, my companions sang my praises regarding my tales, and I was quickly courted by the ruling powers of Cuzcatlecos, eager to hear these new stories themselves, and even more eager to strengthen and elevate their own reputations by being the sole patron of this new attraction. This being late November and the beginning of their fifteenth month, our captives were received with great joy for this was the month for paying tribute to the gods Panquetzaliztli, god of wisdom, light and fertility, and Huitzilopochtli, the god of will and the sun, patron of war and fire. Surrounded by drunken revellers happily munching on cakes made of ground amaranth, sacrificial blood and honey, I took little comfort in seeing my former rapists climbing the steep steps of the city's Great Temple and being spread out on the sacrificial stone before the God Impersonator with his blackened face and his blue-green hummingbird helmet. One would expect me to cheer with joy seeing my rapists' beating hearts ripped out of their chests and held up to the heavens by the bloody hands of their head priest, but instead I felt revulsion and sorrow, for the sacrificial victims, and for the worshippers.

There were many similarities between these people and the Maya and the Tenochca, but there were also some differences. I was surprised and found it strange that one group among these people raised white-tail deer for food much as back in my homeland we raised cattle or sheep as other than the occasional tribe who raised turkeys or a local type of chicken, and the Karankawa who had raised dogs as companions to help pull heavy loads, these people were not wont to raise animals. I also found it strange to find a major occupation of another group was the growing and care of cacao trees, shiny-leaved trees which grow about four times the height of a man and whose seeds they use both to make their deep brown, frothy drink consumed in celebrations, and as coin, a rabbit being worth ten beans, five plums four beans, and a slave a hundred beans. (5)

Perhaps it was because they worked the soil and worked with living things and knew the value of life, or perhaps it was because they had simple needs and wants, but I found that farmers were particularly receptive to my teaching on Christian values and I particularly enjoyed spending time spreading the Word of God among them, mindful of course that the real power and the real people who could implement change were the nobles. I in turn appreciated their honest way of life and enjoyed joining them and working beside them during the day, and then in the evening entertaining them with a story and playing a tune on my panpipe. Jesus, after all, preached among the common people, fishermen and carpenters and even whores, so why not I?

After one such day with a group of cocoa farmers, as I was preparing to leave, I was intercepted by one of the men with a young boy in tow. He observed that he had noticed I was interested in the child, which I could not deny for he was an attractive boy with large, innocent eyes and a look of attentiveness and intelligence. My heart speeded up with apprehension for interest such as mine back home was considered unnatural and the punishment severe despite the fact that there were men of importance, and even men of the cloth, who acted on those interests. He went on to explain that the boy, who was ten summers, had never been with a man but was curious and he figured now was the time, and I was the right person, preferring his boy's first time be with a man of experience rather than an older boy interested only in his own pleasure, and with a man who would show tenderness rather than one who satisfied his needs with a boy who charged for such pleasures. He said with a subservient nod of the head he would be honoured if I was the one to introduce his son to the pleasures of the flesh.

As the smooth-cheeked boy looked up at me with those large, innocent eyes the colour of cacao beans, how could a man with my perversions resist? Besides, I understood the father's concerns. I had witnessed many innocent boys in this land coerced or duped into congress with another only to satisfy the other's passing lust and then be discarded. So I accompanied the boy and his father to their home where a corner was quickly partitioned off with reed mats for the two of us and we were left alone. I have elsewhere extolled the intense joy and immense pleasure of engaging an innocent, willing boy in congress for the first time, and I cannot proclaim often enough nor loud enough the delight of being the first to introduce a young boy to the pleasures that can be had between a man and a boy. I consider myself a literate man and better than most when it comes to expressing myself with quill and paper, but I am inadequate when it comes to expressing the delight that can be had introducing an innocent to those mysterious joys. I think of the poets that gathered at the Medici gardens to sing praises of the boy child, and of the Saracen poets with whom I travelled that proclaimed the bliss of boylove, and of the many poets now long dead who extolled the pleasures only a boy can provide, and wish I had their tongue.

I began by having the boy remove his loincloth and by examining his perfect body, smooth and softly contoured, with compact buttocks and flat stomach and pert little nipples. I dropped my own loincloth and allowed the boy to examine me intimately, my circumcised member being of particular interest to all these savages for they are unaware of the covenant between Christians and God, and he admired my member and stones as much as I took delight in his tiny, slender reed and the hairless stones hanging loosely under it. I reached out and stroked his soft member and I delighted in the velvety smoothness of it, and I gently rolled the tiny little stones in their sack, and I had him similarly caress my member and fondle my stones.

I of course quickly responded and grew hard and I had him wrap his fingers about my bone and squeeze it with all his strength, and he too gradually became hard and I squeezed his stiff little cocklet between my fingers and thumb. I caressed his smooth body and had him caress mine, and I kissed his tender lips, delighting in his fresh, innocent breath and the smoothness of his lips as sweet and soft as rose petals. I caressed his chest, kneading the soft flesh and brushing against the sensitive little buds until they grew firm, and I had him caress my chest, firm and solid with muscle, and play with my nipples also, which were just as tender as his.

I discussed with him the ways that men and boys can bring pleasure to each other, with their hands, with their mouths, and with their anus. He professed to know nothing of this, being the eldest of two sons and having two younger sisters. I showed him how to caress himself and to stroke his little cocklet, and then sat back and watched him pleasure himself. I had a twinge of guilt as I recalled the sin of Onan and the stern admonitions of Father Francisco directed particularly to us young boys in his Sunday sermons, but Satan's temptation was stronger and I brushed such thoughts aside.

I watched as he sat there and concentrated on what he was doing, and on the sensations he was feeling, pleasures he had never before known, and I assured him that what he was feeling was normal for a boy and to continue, which he did, his stroking becoming more and more erratic and the new, mysterious sensations causing him to twitch and squirm until he reached his first orgasm and he jerked and whimpered and gasped as those unique pangs of sweet pain pierced his cockhead and deep up his groin. Watching his reaction to the pleasure of self abuse for the first time was as delightful as experiencing the pleasure myself and my stiff cock wagged with anticipation like the tail of a happy dog.

Allowing him to recover, I then had him do the same to me, and he concentrated on the movement of his hands as he sat there staring at my swollen cock in his hand, knowing that the strange pleasure he had given himself he was now giving me, a delightful consequence for those who engage in congress with those their own gender. I had him masturbate me slowly and pause frequently not just to prolong my pleasure but so as not to tire his arm, and as the first of my sweet, clear juice oozed out the tip of my cock I had him feel it, and taste it, which he did tentatively, and then with eagerness. We then continued and I reached over and stroked his own little cocket which had remained stiff, until my seed raced up the core of my swollen cock and spurted out the tip, and I had him feel the texture of it and smell it.

I rested for a bit and then demonstrated for him how a man can bring a boy pleasure with his mouth, and as I sucked on his limp, little noodle it grew firm in my mouth. I showed him how to suck and move one's lips up and down another's shaft, and then I leaned back and let him practice on me what I had done to him. The joy of watching a beautiful ten-year-old boy sucking cock for the first time sent a rush of desire up my swollen cock and I shuddered with delight. It was with great reluctance that I stopped him a short time later. Having him lay on his back, I resumed sucking him and soon the boy was squirming and gasping and thrusting his hips to and fro with his second dry orgasm. While he was still flushed with the pleasure, I had him resume sucking me and he did so willingly, eager to bring me the same pleasure as I had brought him. I inhaled deeply and sighed with the pleasure throbbing through my swollen cock as I watched this innocent ten-year-old boy sucking my cock and soon I was squirting my tart, thick seed down his throat.

Again we rested and I explained the third and final pleasure a boy and man can have, the joy of sodomy. I amply greased his anus and then my cock, and once stiff I had the boy get upon his knees and elbows and I approached him from behind. We grunted and snorted like two pigs in our effort to unite, and in time we succeeded despite his youth and tightness and my size. Pressing my crotch against his smooth buttocks, I paused to delight in the pleasure of having my cock surrounded by hot, moist flesh, and the pleasure of knowing I was the first to plunge my cock up the bowels of this young boy. Grasping his smooth hips, I slowly eased my cock back out and then plunged it back up his rectum and I inhaled sharply with the tingling pleasure buzzing about my knob, the same pleasure as was causing his anus to burn. And so it was that I introduced this child to the delight of being sodomized, and as he quivered with that delight I squirted my seed deep up his rectum.

There were other groups besides those who tended the cacao trees. Not so strange was the presence of one group whose main feature was a love of war. Nor was it strange to find that these people practice human sacrifice and have cults worshiping, among others, Xipe Totec, Tlaloc, Quetzalcoatl, Huehueteotl, Ehecatl, and Tlclchitonatioh, all familiar names. As much as I felt compelled to teach these heathens about God and Jesus and to convert them, life among them was too much like life with the Tenochca. The bloody and brutal sacrifices, eighteen festival days a year for Huitzilopochtli alone, and the memory of beautiful Cuacuatli giving of his own life to save mine, was too much and I left eight days later.

Chapter 19
Between the Great Ocean Seas

Leaving the Cuzcatlecs, Nico pauses with the Lenca on the coast and then continues on to the Chorotega in what is now Costa Rica and the Coclé who lived in what is now Panama, and with each he extends his understanding of boylove.

Characters: Macaw14 yo son of fisherman; 7 year old son of the village chief; 15 yo boy whore; 13 yo boy child wife

My reputation as a storyteller preceded me and I was warmly welcomed at each village I encountered and provided food, shelter and provisions for the next day. Eight days later I found myself once again along the coast and staring out at a vast Ocean Sea. These lands were occupied by the Lenca who lived along the river valleys and along the sea. They were a gentler people by nature and fishermen and as I joined them in their canoa and fished with them off the coast I was reminded of my childhood days and I missed greatly my homeland and my family and I wondered if Father and Uncle still plied the Ocean Sea or if they had given up the life of merchant sailors and had settled down and become shopkeepers. I had great difficulty imagining either satisfied to spend their lives on land and surrounded by four walls every day. I wondered how Mother was fairing, and my sisters. My oldest sister's child, my nephew, and my baby brother would be walking now, and the village boys would all be courting my sister Theresa who was two years younger than myself and in another year or two would be of marriageable age. Had she been living here, by now she would have been married four years if not longer and would have three or four naked native brats. Father would be forty-three, and Uncle fifty-one now, ages most men in these lands would never see, and as I thought of them tears filled my eyes knowing I would never see any of them again.

These were melancholy days filled with memories of home and reflections on my life and the choices I had made, good and bad. They were peaceful, carefree days, sailing and fishing the Ocean Sea, breathing in the tangy ocean air and feeling the salt spray on my face, and in the evening, spreading the Word of God as I told tales of Jesus feeding the multitude from three fishes and three loaves and walking on water and of Peter the Fisherman whose name was Simon, the Keeper of God's House in Rome. I thought often of my estate, the Quintas de Ribeiro, and wondered how it was fairing. I had no doubt that my steward Alvaro had my matters well in hand, but with my extended absence, I wondered if he had been able to maintain possession of it despite the instructions I had left regarding its disposition should I die. And of course I thought of his grandson, Vasco, who would now be sixteen and a half, and I wondered if he had taken an older lover, or if he had seduced a younger boy to satisfy his lusts. But, those days were long gone, and would never be seen again. Nicolau Ribeiro, esquire, son of Joáo, the merchant-sailor of Viana do Castelo, was no more. I was now Baracutey, Storyteller, The One Who Travels Alone, no longer a rich lord.

There was a young Lenca boy of fourteen, Macaw, the son of a fisherman, who reminded me much of Vasco, not in appearance of course but in attitude. He saw immediately my interest the first day we saw each other, and coyly ran a hand down along his thigh and brushed back his loincloth to reveal an unusually large sack as I helped the fishermen haul in their net and empty their catch. He was the type of boy who was aware that men found him attractive and who was confident about his sexuality and unafraid to use his attractiveness to his own advantage, the type of boy who hung around with others of his ilk and who earned a living by dressing like women and charging for their favours, a not uncommon occurrence I found in the larger centres of the Tenochca and the Maya. (1)

Macaw could have been such a boy, but he was not. He was selective with whom he shared his body, and he shared it out of pleasure, not for cacao beans. He lived on his own, his parents being dead, whether the casualties of war or the result of accidents I do not know, and depended on the generosity of male lovers to provide food and shelter. I was one of those who supported him for several days, until he had enough and moved on to another. He was aggressive in life and in sex, taking on older boys in wrestling and other games and besting them, which made him a target, but that only seemed to encourage him all the more. In sex he took the dominant role. He was small but strong and had an impressive member for his age, and large, black balls. His sexual appetite was insatiable.

He came to me the evening of the first day we had seen each other, proud and cocky, certain that I desired him, and he was right. He played with me, showing a thigh or a testicle, looking up at me with those seductive eyes and smiling with those sensuous lips. I was erect just with the thought of congress with him. When at last we dropped our loincloths he flaunted his possessions, proud of his endowment, and it was obvious he expected the dominant role. That I was willing to allow him. His cock, lubed with fish oil, shone in the moonlight, as did his teeth as he grinned at me, and I dropped to my knees and elbows there on the sandy beach behind a pile of driftwood. He was skilled and considerate, unusually so for a boy of fourteen. He knew his pleasure was greater if his partner was pleased, and pleased I was.

He thrust his cock in and out of my rectum with the speed and eagerness of youth, in a hurry for the physical pleasure that came with the spilling his seed, but when he almost reached that peak he stopped and with uncharacteristic patience for one his age, he waited for his passion to subside, all the while reaching under me and stroking my swollen cock as one might milk a cow. He resumed the thrusting of his hips then, slower now, relishing each thrust and each withdrawal, and I inhaled deeply with the burning pleasure circling my asshole and with the mounting pressure in my loins and the tingling of my cockhead. I clenched my anus tight as he withdrew and relaxed as he thrust forward. His hot breath blew against the nape of my neck and I closed my eyes with the delight of having my rectum stuffed with his thick, teenage cock. At the age of eighteen one might think I resented being fucked by a boy four years younger than myself, but I found it erotic and even more so given his expertise in pleasuring another male. When at last he came I exploded also and as he filled my rectum with his teenage slime I sprayed the ground with mine, the two of us gasping with the pleasure of our orgasms, both his and mine.

He mounted me four times that night, and each time I spilled my seed along with him. There was no limit to his energy and enthusiasm, nor to his seed, his fourth time just as explosive and just as copious as the first, and his teenage lust was contagious, my own seed as thick and copious my fourth time as my first also. As we lay there in the dark and listened to the waves lapping at the shore, I inhaled deeply, the air sharp with the tang of the Ocean Sea and dank and musky with the spray of the sea and our teenage sweat and our spilt seed. I fondled his once again loose and pendant balls, large and black-brown, and brought my fingertips to my nose and inhaled the fragrance of his teenage ball sweat and I closed my eyes in delight. I had suffered many trials in this strange new world, but I had also experienced many exquisite pleasures such as this night that I would never find anywhere else on this earth. It was on nights like that, that I could have joined these heathens and begun a new life.

While living with the Lenca, I heard two tales that piqued my interest. One was a conversation between two fishermen about a land far to the south, two cycles of the moon travel, where one could put one's foot in the Great Sea where the sun rose in the morning, and walk across the land so that at night one could put one's foot in the Great Sea where the sun sank beneath the earth. The other was a tale told by a slave, a captive from a tribe known as the Mayanqna, who claimed that his people came from a great kingdom even farther to the south, many cycles of the moon away by foot, a kingdom ruled by a mighty king, the descendant of the gods above, who greeted the sun each morning atop a mountain peak, his body sprinkled with gold dust until it was completely coated from head to toe. He claimed even the poorest of his people ate off of gold plates and drank from gold cups and they knew no fear so great was the army of their king. I was comfortable where I was among these fisher folk, but I would see such places, and so, after spending eight days with the Lenca, I packed my belongings and continued south, five days before the winter solstice by my estimation, travelling largely along the eastern coast for it was easier than traversing the mountains and valleys inland.

A week after leaving the Lenca, Christmas day by my estimation, I spent the evening at a small fishing village of perhaps a dozen families. As I sat there eating a fish and root stew, my few possessions beside me, I told the gathering of natives about the birth of Christ, the son of a god, and about the arrival of the three wise men bearing gifts, and the choir of angels appearing before the shepherds and singing in the heavens. My audience listened with rapt attention, delighted by a tale they had never heard before and curious about a tribe they had not known existed. Of course I had to explain many things, for they knew nothing of sheep nor of angels nor of my Christian God nor of a tribe called the Portuguese. Looking up at the night sky, pitch black with the stars sparkling like diamonds, the constellations having shifted in position but still recognizable, I thought of the Christmas days spent with my family, Father sitting at the head of the table and Uncle in his place at the foot, the fragrance of freshly baked bread and roasted lamb filling the house, and of the saying of the blessing for the bounty of food before us and the family and friends surrounding us, Mother blushing with the praise for her cooking and modestly crediting her mother for her cooking skills but beaming with pride, and afterward the serving of plum dumplings sprinkled with sugar, Uncle's favourite and mine too, and Grandfather Ribeiro's telling of the Birth Story, and finally the exchange of gifts, and tears filled my eyes.

The village chief noticed the tears and inquired as to the reason, and when I told him I was thinking of family now far away and our good times together he observed that there were no bonds closer than that of family. That night I spent with the son of his oldest concubine, the boy having turned seven only the previous week, he having no daughters old enough to gift me for my storytelling and apologising that the boy was inexperienced. I had to smile as I recalled his comments about family. He had a wife, who had given him two daughters and two sons, and two concubines, the youngest thirteen and pregnant, the other having borne him a daughter and a son whom he was now gifting me to have congress with, and if he could have he would have just as willingly gifted me one of his daughters. His gift, which would have abhorred men of my homeland, was to him precious.

I could have declined and given an acceptable reason, being ill or too homesick or not liking boys, but I am not a convincing liar and in that I had to travel through his land it would be unwise to risk offending him. Such was the custom of these peoples for they have no restraints regarding sex as do good, God-fearing Christians, and no concept of morality when it comes to age or offering the flesh of their own kin. To decline his offer would be considered a grave insult. And to be truthful, I must confess I felt no guilt introducing a child that young to the pleasures of the flesh. For one, I knew if I did not do so there would be others who would, others who might not be as compassionate nor as gentle as I would be. For another, I knew that in doing so I was preparing the boy for although protected to some degree as the son of the chief, I knew among these peoples the chief's position was not a permanent thing, and the boy was too young and too weak to defend himself from the lustful desires of others should he find himself without that protection. At least if others did force themselves upon him, he would not be a virgin and would know sex could be pleasant.

I must confess also that I found personal pleasure in introducing the innocent to the pleasures of the flesh, delighting in being a part of their discovery for the first time of the pleasures that their member can bring them, and the pleasures that they can bring others. I have mentioned many times already the virtues of congress with a virgin child and I relate this latest innocent not to titillate but to provide further evidence of the righteousness of my belief and a further example of how the innocence and fumbling of a virgin boy child heighten and enhance my own pleasure. When he squirmed and bucked his hips with the hitherto unknown pleasure as I stroked his stiff, little member, I recalled the first time I had been shown that delight by another, at a much older age than this boy, and it gave me a good feeling knowing that he would have that many more years to enjoy that pleasure, years that had been denied me. When he wrapped his hot little hand about my swollen member and stroked it until I spilt my seed, the wonder and delight in his eyes as he felt my cock throbbing and saw a man ejaculate his seed was all I needed to tell me what I had done was right.

When I sucked on his little member I found as much delight in stimulating his little cocklet and in his subsequent orgasm as he himself found, and when he in turn slipped his lips about my swollen sausage and sucked on it I knew he was finding as much delight in bringing me that unique pleasure as he had in experiencing it himself. He sucked on my cock eagerly and willingly, as a babe takes to his mother's tit, and he took as much delight in swallowing my slime as a baby takes in swallowing his mother's milk. Given my size and his tightness, I spent much time preparing him, finger-fucking him and gently stretching his anus with first one finger and then two and then three before penetrating him with my member. I worked my swollen cock in and out of his virgin hole slowly and did not delay my ejaculation as I would with an older, more experienced boy, knowing to do so would be painful for him. When we reversed roles, I could barely feel his little tiddler in my body, but knowing the pleasure pulsating through that stiff, little cock and his delight in taking the dominant role, I delighted in our congress just as much as I would have with someone three times his age and three times his size.

I continued on the next day, arriving two weeks later at the land occupied by the Chorotega, whose name means peoples surrounded by enemies, which is most apt for all I encountered spoke of them with hostility, and begrudgingly with the admittance they were the most powerful tribe from Ocean Sea to Ocean Sea. Corn farmers by trade, they are, I discovered, accomplished warriors who engaged their neighbors frequently, their preferred weapons being the bow and arrow and a wooden sword set with small flint knives. They wore padded cotton armor which they soaked in the ocean to harden and which I discovered was most effective. They were most enamored by my sword and by my skill in the use of it and I quickly found myself employed as a swords master. Their tribes, each lead by a council of huehues, who were the chiefs, warriors, priests and elders and which was elected once each month, were small and widespread across this land. They had a strict caste system, and those of highest rank had concubines like many of the tribes I have encountered. That and other aspects of their culture quickly reminded me of the federation of the Tzotzil, Tzelta, Tojolabal, and Chol which Ozomatli and I had encountered on the way to his home city.

They too had a pantheon of gods whom they appeased by human sacrifice and self mutilation of their ears, tongue, and genitals. Like the Tenochca they went to war to obtain these sacrificial victims, and surplus captives were sold to their neighbors for their sacrificial ceremonies. I also discovered that fathers sold their children for sacrifices. Considering that a father would do that, the gravity of those fathers who had gifted me their children for sex paled in comparison. Their chiefs were considered sacred and had the droit du seigneur, the right of the first night, which they actually felt brought honor to the woman and made it easier for her to find a husband. Very few women kept their virginity after puberty, and indeed, many men preferred to take non-virgins as wives. In that regard, the men, like most tribes I have encountered, marry around the age of twenty. The women, however, marry as young as six or seven and are raised by the man's older wives until they can be used as women. Despite this, women, I found, play a dominant role in this society. There were also men who preferred the company of other men as I have frequently found in my travels, and individuals or groups of men who dressed as women and charged for their services. (2)

I myself paid for the services of such a boy while living with the Chorotega, a boy of fifteen. He wore his hair long and loose and he wore the skirt and upper bodice of a woman, and I at first thought from his dress and appearance and his mannerisms that he was a girl. He approached me in the market and it being over two weeks since I last had sex and being curious if one so effeminate did things differently, and if I would like having congress with one so feminine, we settled on a price of seven cacao beans. We went to a building similar to the building where single young men lived in other villages except this one was much smaller, and the young men living there were all whores. Seeing them lounging in the shade or sitting and gossiping as they wove linen and ground corn as you see village women doing everywhere gave me a strange feeling in my stomach and gooseflesh on my arms.

The boy I had hired, who even went by a feminine name, Heron Feather, seemed to float rather than walk and moved as gracefully as any woman I have known. He smelled faintly sweet, like a lily or some such, which was unusual for these peoples are not known to use perfumes or artificial fragrances. Even his voice was quiet, like a girl's, and his touch was gentle. His body was soft, more like a child's than that of a boy of fifteen, most boys at that age having well-developed and defined muscles. That he was a boy was evident though as he dropped his loincloth and revealed himself, his member long, thick, and hooded and his stones pendant and dark.

The house he and the others lived in was open with individual spaces with sleeping mats and baskets of personal belongings roughly marking off individual spaces. I dropped my loincloth and he remarked with delight on my endowment, which I suspect was a standard opening for all clients, though he, like all others, was intrigued by my lack of a foreskin. As we began to kiss and caress, it was evident that he knew this sport well, his fingertips barely touching me and the boy knowing all the sensitive spots. I was soon erect and he teased and further aroused me by stroking my bulb with those feather-light caresses and by brushing his lips along my thighs and along the sensitive edge of my knob. We engaged in foreplay longer than usual and he took longer to become aroused, testament to his willpower and control, and his skill in pleasing another.

He then opened a jar containing a golden-colored lubricant that faintly smelled of honey and reminded me of my first awareness of the sexual practices of these people and the use of honey by girls to signal their receptiveness and protection from pregnancy, and I wondered if the similarity was because the lubricant was made of the same stuff, or if he was mimicking the practices of his female counterparts. He lubricated my stiff member and then his anus, and laying on his back he spread his legs and raised his hips. Engaging in congress face to face was not as common as other positions and I wondered again if this was to simulate congress with a woman, or if this was the preferred position of those who took the role of women. Having served a similar role, both as a bath boy in the Ottoman Empire and then as a dancer traveling across Caucasia, I can say from my experience face-to-face congress was not the common position.

I welcomed the change and dropped to my knees between the spread legs of this young, attractive boy and he quickly squirmed into position so his greased anus was aligned with my projecting member. Placing the tip against his hot, greasy opening, I wedged my knob in his crack and pressed forward. He was experienced and skilled, as was I, and we united easily. I slowly sank my stiff member up his rectum and then paused to delight in having my swollen cock surrounded by hot, moist flesh. I then slowly began to gyrate, working my stiff cock in and out of his body, and his anus grasped my member tightly as I worked it in and out of his ass. He wrapped his legs about my waist to keep them elevated, and he wrapped his arms about my body and caressed my back as we kissed. I fucked him slowly, enjoying the physical stimulation and the throbbing of my swollen member, and I looked down into his eyes and saw the same satisfaction and pleasure in those deep, brown pools. Our breathing slowly became more labored as our desires increased and I began to thrust my hips to and fro more rapidly. From the blush of his cheeks and the curl of his lips he was enjoying this as much as I was and I thought back to my days as a whore while traversing the lands of the Saracens, and how though I knew I was being used for the pleasure of another, I also found pleasure in the act, particularly when I knew my partner wished to bring me pleasure besides himself. I soon learned to tell if my partner was thinking solely of himself and his satisfaction or if he was thinking of both of us, and I could tell Heron Feather was thinking of both of us, which I am sure made him the more popular of the boys just as it had made me more popular as a bath boy and as a dancer.

That heightened my own pleasure, knowing he was not just some passive hole laying there solely for the beans I had paid for his company. I knew, again from experience, that there were boys who faked such interest, knowing that such interest aroused the men who paid for their services and that they would be more likely sought out a second time than those boys who did not know how to fake their pleasure, and I knew that the smile on Heron Feather's lips was genuine. By this time I was panting with exertion and desire and my thrusts had become rapid and erratic. My partner was also gasping for breath and twisting and gyrating beneath me. The pressure in my loins was extreme and at last I felt the twang that announced the release of my seed. I inhaled sharply as I felt it gush up the core of my cock and spurt up the rectum of the perfumed boy beneath me, and he arched his back and clenched his eyes with that sweet pain also as his seed erupted out of his body and spattered my chest and his. His seed was thick and white and clung in hot, wet globs to our bodies. We gasped and panted as we spent our seed and grasped each other tightly in our pleasure. The boy knew his trade well.

I had little desire to remain with these peoples, other than the pleasure I had with Heron Feather, and encouraged by their confirmation of a land not that distant where one could walk from sea to sea in a day, and of a powerful empire farther to the south where the people ate on plates of gold, I did not stay at any one village longer than overnight unless weather detained me as I continued to make my way south and east.

A week later I found myself in the land of the Coclé. Unlike the tribes I encountered since leaving the Lenca, these peoples were united under a king and his family of nobles, the cacique of one village being related to the cacique of the next. This was, for these peoples, the dry season, a quiet time between harvests. Inquiring about the tales I had heard about two seas, I was assured this was the case, and on what I estimated to be the ninth day of February in the year of our lord one thousand four hundred and ninety-five, I traveled with a trader from the Great Ocean Sea of the East to the Great Ocean Sea of the West. I was both elated and dismayed by the discovery for I now had proof that there were indeed two oceans separated by a large land mass which was, I guessed from their description of the land to the north and to the south, shaped like an hourglass and I was in the middle. It also meant that the land of the Great Khan lay somewhere to the west of this second sea, and that I was not going to be able to walk to it, nor back to my homeland.

Like other tribes I have encountered, the richer and more powerful have multiple wives and concubines, both male and female. The larger the number of young boys one has as followers the greater his prestige and as I watched these young nobles parading up and down the streets and in the market square I was reminded of peacocks strutting about with their tail feathers spread to impress the females, except in this case it was young, pretty boys rather than feathers, and other young nobles that were being impressed, not women. One day while I was taking a break from playing my panpipe in the market, an evidently wealthy and powerful man from his dress, carriage and retinue whom I estimated to be in his late thirties walked by with an entourage of thirty teenage boys and young men all dressed as women. This was, I was told, the brother of the king with his male concubines and adoring followers. I had to smile as I thought how King Joáo would respond if greeted by such a popinjay with his fawning subjects.

The following day while I was performing to earn enough cacao beans to buy my midday meal, a young noble whom I estimated to be in his late twenties paused to listen with a cluster of young men who from their subservient and obsequious behaviour were followers, obviously attracted by his riches or power as there was nothing physically attractive about him and he had an arrogant, vacuous demeanor. As he continued on, one of his toadies approached me and told me the noble wished to speak with me. Curious, and knowing better than to offend someone of such obvious power, I followed him to where the young noble had paused in the shade for a drink and to flaunt his retinue. I was asked about my musical instrument and my origins and if I had any other attributes, to which I demonstrated by singing ability and storytelling, and although he pretended not to be, I could tell he was impressed and wanted me. He made me an offer to join his household as an entertainer, clearly seeing me as a bauble to display before his peers. The revenue would be welcome, but I had no desire for a long-term commitment for I had no intention of staying with these peoples long. I told him my name was Baracutey, One Who Travels Alone, and that I was honoured by his offer but I was travelling through this land and not intending on staying.

He invited me to perform for a gathering of some sort he was having that evening, and I knew it was part of a ploy to convince me to stay. Also knowing this was not a man you said no to, I agreed, for the night, and followed him to the inner circle of homes where the rich and leading citizens lived. That evening I sang and played my panpipes much to his delight and to the delight of his guests, all young and up and coming nobles. Accompanying him was a seductive, sloe-eyed boy of thirteen, scantily clad to reveal his smooth, oiled body and bedecked with jewels and gold whom he introduced as his boy-wife. Having never heard anything like my music before the boy was fascinated, and I was instantly attracted to the boy. His "husband" of course noticed my interest, and offered his young wife to share my mat that night.

I immediately knew his intention of course, and the danger I was getting into, but I could not refuse. The boy was good looking and had an attractive body, and he played the role of seducer well, obviously having much practice. So after the guests had bid their farewell, I retired to the room I had been assigned and the man's boy-wife joined me soon after, along with servants bringing plates of fresh fruit and a cooled pitcher of frothy xocolatl. We sat and talked, which delighted the boy for usually the guests he entertained were only interested in his body and eager to enjoy it. Entertaining his husband's guests was nothing new to the boy who knew he himself was nothing more than a bauble to attract other males to increase his husband's number of followers and thus the power of his "husband". His use to his husband depended on the number of men of power and importance he could attract, and he knew his usefulness would last as long as his youth and beauty. I was being manipulated to join the household as an entertainer for the same reason, and we both knew that, and it was that knowledge that drew us together even closer than his physical attractiveness and his curiosity about me.

And so we talked long into the night, eating the fresh fruit and drinking the xocolatl. We of course eventually had congress. I could not resist his attractiveness, and he could not resist his curiosity about me. He was inexperienced, but his youth and beauty more than made up for his lack of skill, and as I have said, for me, I find the awkwardness and innocence of youth more arousing than skill on the mat. We caressed and kissed and I spread my legs and watched as he licked my cock and sucked on my balls until I was stiff, and then I had him sit with his legs spread and I in turn sucked on his small stones and licked his limp sausage until it too was hard.

We then lay face to face and in opposite directions and sucked each other, delighting in the heat and moisture of each other's mouth and in the throbbing desire pulsating through our cocks, and the knowledge that what we were feeling was what the other was feeling though five years separated us. I felt the rapid throbbing along the underside of his cock and knowing the meaning I inhaled deeply and readied myself. When he came, I savoured the thin, sweet juice of this beautiful boy, allowing it to fill my mouth and then swallowing it. Moments later my own cock throbbed, and he was experienced enough to recognize what that meant. As I began spurting, he swallowed eagerly, drinking my thick, white seed as if it was the sweetest wine. We kissed afterward, tasting our own seed on the other's lips. There was no need to say anything.

I fucked him a bit later, face to face as I had done with the boy whore, but it was only the position that was similar. Having congress with this beautiful boy because we wanted to have congress with each other and to please each other, and because we had an empathy for each other, made it as different from my congress with the boy prostitute as day and night. As I thrust my cock in and out of his young, tight anus and looked down into those dark brown, seductive eyes, the pleasure and desire I saw in them heightened my own pleasure and desire. His flushed, downy cheeks and thick, parted lips sent an ache up my loins and I wished nothing more than to bring pleasure to this young boy. I kissed those soft, moist lips and he returned my kisses, our breaths fruity and fresh, and I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with his fragrance, the fragrance of boy combined with the smoky fragrance of these people, as I eased my swollen cock in and out of his rectum. He contracted his anus and inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply and he licked his lips and closed his eyes in ecstasy. His little cocklet was stiff and wagging with pleasure, and the tip glistened with his clear nectar.

I too closed my eyes as pleasure filled my mind and my swollen, benumbed cock eased in and out of his tight, moist hole. Even with my eyes closed I could see his flushed face in my mind, his parted lips, and lust-filled eyes. The knob of my cock burned with irritation and I inhaled deeply as I felt my seed burn up the core of my cock and spurt out the tip and deep up his rectum. Spurt after spurt shot up his rectum, and I suddenly felt his hot seed spattering my body. I glanced down between us and saw his slender little cocklet spurting out his seed, his stones drawn up tight as glob after glob spattered my body and his. As I looked back up, the boy smiled at me dreamily, heavy-lidded and flushed with gratification. Knowing I could have this boy each night if I so wished, perhaps it would not be a bad idea to face reality and settle down here. At least there would be no harm in lingering here at least for a while. (3)

Chapter 20
In Search of El Aquele Dourado

Nico follows the coast with a trader to Tairona where they part and Nico continues up river to the Laches where he discovers the cusmos (boys raised as girls). He continues through the rain forest to Chibcha (near present day Bogota) where he rescues a 15 yo boy, the son of the Guilded One, with whom he becomes blood brother. He baptises members of the tribe and preaches the Gospel on his nineteenth birthday.

Code: Mt, MM, tb, tt; oral, anal

Characters: Tairona tribe, 7 yo and 10 yo cusmos, Urqoma, 15, son of the Guilded One

The boy was gone when I awoke and I lay there staring up at the ceiling as I recalled the night. I was naked and sticky and my mouth dry. I closed my eyes and pictured the look of sheer delight on his face as he had spilt his seed while I had filled his rectum with mine. It was that look that convinced me beyond all question that what I was doing was right. I could still smell his raw, musky scent, the scent of a thirteen-year-old boy in rut, and my limp cock stirred with the odour of him. It was late but my host was still asleep, the luxury of the life of a noble. I could have a similar life. I knew with my looks and my skill as an entertainer that I could remain in his employ as long as I wanted to, and with his greed for my presence to enhance his position I could demand pretty much anything I wanted.

I bathed and dressed and was about to look for something to break my fast when my host appeared. He gave me a contemptuous look as his eyes scanned me from head to foot. "Do you have no other clothing?"

"No," I replied. "I travel light and –"

"I am having people over tonight, important people. Find something… more fitting your position," he said pompously. "But that shows some thigh and chest." Taking a small bag out of his pouch, he tossed it at me and turned and walked out of the room.

I began heading to the market but it was a bright sunny day, a break from the constant rain we had been having, so I turned and headed out of the city and down to the coast where I bought some tortillas and a bowl of beans and sat on a ridge and watched the fishermen casting their nets and thought. I could stay and suffer his arrogance until one day he tired of me and found himself a new bauble to impress his companions, or until I could take no more and broke that upturned nose of his. Spotting a man loading supplies into one of the canoya, I joined him and helped him load his goods for as I suspected from his clothing he was a trader. I asked where he was heading and offered to help row to which he replied he could not afford to pay an assistant. I replied that I was an entertainer and sought no payment, only transportation, for which I would pay with a strong back and arms.

And so I gathered up my few belongings and we left, heading south along the coast and stopping each evening, the trader to trade and me to play my panpipes and tell stories, for which we received an evening meal and a place to sleep. If there was no village we pulled to shore at dusk and set up our own camp. For three weeks we travelled such, stopping at no village more than an evening to trade. From the position of the sun and the stars, the land seemed to curve so we began heading west and north and I began to wonder if we were circumnavigating the Great Ocean Sea and if perchance if we continued on our way we might arrive at the Dark Continent and from there I might find my way home. Hope fluttered in my chest as weak and unlikely as it was.

And so it was that we entered the territory of the Teruna, whose name means "males" or "sons of the tiger". These were farming people, tending irrigated fields to raise crops for themselves and to trade, and fishermen, fishing in marine waters to trade their catch further inland. They, I learned, had several large cities of one to three thousand people which were connected to each other and to smaller villages by stone-paved paths. Besides crops and fish, they produced salt for trade. What struck me immediately was that gold was commonplace, their chiefs and nobles wearing detailed gold pendants depicting themselves, large lip-plugs, nose ornaments, necklaces, and earrings. This gold was shaped into accurately detailed jewelry equal to the work of the most skilled goldsmiths in Europe. It held no value other than the ease with which it could be used to make things. Unlike most of the other natives I have encountered, these people wore pure white tunics and breeches made of cotton and wool, which was spun by the women and wove by the men, the pants tied with string at the waist. The women wore a single cloth wrapped about their bodies like a dress. Both men and women wore their hair long and loose with white, funnel-shaped hats or pot-shaped hats with a wide brim to protect themselves from the sun.

They were a friendly people who took great delight in telling stories, especially of their many legends and their gods, believing in a pantheon of nature gods, and great delight in hearing new stories, which made me very popular as I spread the Word of God among them with stories from the Bible. Being fishermen, they delighted in my stories about Peter the Fisherman, and when I told them of John the Baptist and of Jesus walking on water, they related to me a tale of a tribe to the south where once a year their king sprinkled his body with gold dust from head to toe and was then rowed out to the middle of a sacred lake where he washed off the gold, renewing himself and ensuring himself a life of immortality and his people another year of good fortune. So similar in purpose this was with baptism I wondered if perhaps the Word of Christ might have already reached those people ruled by whom they called El Aquele Dourado, "The Gilded One".

While I was with the Teruna, a couple announced their divorce. Unlike Christians, this did not involve their priests nor their chief nor any type of ceremony. The couple simply announced to the people of their village that they no longer intended on living as man and wife, and that each was free to marry another. No reasons were required and none given. I was told that the reasons for a couple to choose to live apart were many and no concern of others. A man might no longer be able to provide food and shelter for the woman, or she might no longer be able to cook his meals and look after their home; he, or she, might not be able to have children; or he, or she, might have found someone else he or she would rather live with.

Whatever the reason, they were no longer happy together so there was no sense in them remaining together and being unhappy. Everyone accepted it as the way things were and there was no shame nor dishonor. It was no surprise really, for I have found that these people view marriage in much the same way as they view divorce. There are no arranged marriages such as we have in my homeland to ensure the inheritance of estate or position nor to form an alliance between families, though they do marry within casts, and marriage to a chief or to a great warrior or a great hunter brings a special prestige. And their marriage ceremony is just as simple as their divorce, a man and women simply announce they are moving in together. To me it is just one more example of the laziness and lack of commitment by these people seen in so many aspects of their life.

Congress between males, and though less common, between females, was treated with the same carefree way with everyone accepting it as a natural part of life, just as it is only natural that some occupations, such as sailing or being a trader or merchant are best performed by men and other tasks such as sewing and cooking are best performed by women, and that it is only natural that men meet together with the exclusion of women and no man would sit in a sewing circle or meet with a gaggle of housewives. These people had male meeting houses where only men gathered and where they donned animal masks and practiced their religious ceremonies, held deliberations on matters of law and warfare and the governance of their communities, and where they could meditate on such worthy affairs, affairs that are beyond the capability of minds of women.

Having traveled and encountered many different peoples, and being a storyteller, I was welcomed into these meeting houses. The procedures varied according to the purpose of the meeting, those that were more serious having more formal rituals to follow and those that were more of a social nature being less rigid. They all more or less began with a purification, usually a smudge being lit and the smoke wafted over each participant, sometimes a pipe being filled with dried leaves of a plant I had first heard called tapaco back when living with the Taino which was then lit and passed around with each person taking the smoke into their lungs and exhaling it. Among these people, the chewing of leaves I later learned were from a plant called cuca was another common practice.

The leaves have a strange taste but one which one becomes accustomed to after a while and can even enjoy. They result in a feeling of great euphoria and exhilaration which makes me suspect that the leaves cleanse the body of black bile or similar vapors which learned men of the medical profession now know causes depression and melancholy. I also noticed that it caused an increase in my heart rate, which probably speeded up the dispersion of black bile, and that it sharpened my senses so that I was much more alert. I added the seeds of this plant to my collection should I ever return to my homeland, for if it could be cultivated back home, I am sure it would be a great supplement to give to soldiers or even sailors.

The first meeting where I had experienced these leaves was held to discuss what was to be done with the increasing number of people in the village for there were becoming too many to survive on the available supply of food. Some men were in favor of splitting the tribe and having some move further to the west, but how it was to be split and who would be forced to move they could not agree upon. Others felt that they should clear more of the forest and grow more crops but others argued that would result in fewer animals to hunt. Still others felt that they should insist that the young men stop having congress with the women, or that they insist the women eat another plant which they knew prevented the birth of babies but others laughed and said they might as well ask the streams to flow uphill as ask young men not to have congress with women, and that it is women's nature and purpose to have babies. Discussions were intense and earnest, but there was respect, and attention was given to each speaker, helped I am sure by the feeling of well-being and goodwill produced by the leaves that had been consumed.

Eventually arriving at the conclusion that there was no clear answer and that the matter needed more thought, the conversation turned to less serious matters. I had brought my panpipes and entertained them, and others sang songs, and the elders related legends that somehow seemed relevant to the earlier discussion. The earlier suggestion about the young men no longer having congress with women came up again, first as a joke, but then all felt that was perhaps not a bad idea, for there were other ways to bring pleasure and several nodded wisely while others gave each other secretive looks.

I do not know if it was the cuca leaves or the sense of well-being and fellowship as a result of our discussions, or if it was the nature of these peoples, but hands began to wander and men settled in the arms of other men. One of the young men placed his hand on my thigh and I watched in a dreamy sense as it slowly caressed where it was most sensitive and my member slowly rose and peaked out from my loincloth. Another man, perhaps twice my age, leaned over and we kissed and I reached over and slipped my fingers inside his trousers and cupped his warm, sweating stones. I was vaguely aware of others around me kissing and embracing each other in pairs or clusters and a few leaning back and staring dreamily and blankly into space as they stroked their stiff members, having discarded or pushed their trousers down to their knees. I had a feeling of great joy and wellness and of great alertness similar to that after drinking the Black Drink. My cock felt more swollen than usual and the tingling along the rim of my bulb sharper and more pleasant.

I kissed the youth who was stroking my cock on his lips, and then slid down and kissed his chest and his nipples, and I licked them until they became firm and I sucked on them eagerly as a babe sucks his mother's teat. I was aware of someone behind me kissing the nape of my neck and running his middle finger up and down the crack of my ass and then worming the tip of his finger into my anus. I slid further down and took the youth's sweaty balls in my mouth and sucked on them as I caressed his thighs and I twisted around and took his bulb in my mouth and sucked on it. He likewise slipped his mouth over my knob and slid his lips down my shaft until they were wrapped about my shaft above my balls and the tip of my cock was in his throat. The older man who had been kissing the nape of my neck was now curled up behind me, the tip of his stiff cock pressing against my anus, and another, a boy in his early teens, was curled up behind the youth sucking my cock.

We inhaled deeply as we were penetrated, sucking the air out of each other's stones and the core of each other's cock, and we began to work our lips up and down each other's shaft and to suck on each other's bulb as the man and boy behind us began to pump their hips, working their swollen cocks in and out of our rectums. All around us were the grunts and groans and slurping and patting of others uniting in congress and sucking and stroking each other's members. My cock was swollen twice its size and throbbing in time with my heartbeat, the knob itching and burning with an intense pleasure. The cock in my mouth was delicious and I sucked on it and ran my tongue around the bulb hungrily, eager to bring the youth sucking me as much pleasure as he was bringing me. The man behind me had to have the largest cock that was ever up my rectum and he pumped it in and out of my ass, causing my anus to burn with a sweet pain while the young teenage boy behind the youth sucking my cock rammed his cock in and out of his ass rapidly and desperately as is the manner of teenage boys.

My cock went numb and I lost the feeling in my rectum and then my whole body went numb. My mind began to spin and I felt as if I was falling, deeper and deeper. The boy I was sucking arched his back and began to fill my mouth with his thick, tart cream and I quivered and began to squirt my seed down his throat. The man behind me grasped my hips and began to fill my rectum with his seed, and the young boy behind the youth sucking my cock cried out in ecstasy as his young seed erupted from his loins and squirted up the ass of the youth he was fucking. The room smelled of man sweat and spilt seed and I sucked in the fragrant air, filling my lungs as my stomach and my rectum were filled with life-giving seed and I squirted mine down the throat of a youth whose name I did not know. (1)

Being curious about this legend of The Gilded One, not just because of the gold but because of similarities in principles with baptism, I was eager to seek out these peoples and so I, now wearing a new tunic and a pair of breeches, and the trader parted ways and I headed south and east where I was told the tribe was located. It was now March, and in this land, the last month of the rainy season. Each day it rained for several candle marks and the trails were clogged with mud and the undergrowth lush and thick, but I struck out, using their stone-paved paths as much as I could, knowing each day it would rain a little less. It was difficult traveling and the jungle sparsely populated but I was determined and continued on through the rain and the heat. Two weeks later, about a week after the spring equinox, I entered the territory of the Laches.

These too were a peaceful people, mainly farmers and hunters, and similar to the other tribes I have met. I performed in their market places for my food and lodging, and between villages I caught my own food and slept in the jungle, having become adept at hunting for my meals and scavenging through the forests for nuts and berries. I was Baracutey, One Who Travels Alone. One evening I joined a group of farmers returning from the fields, exhausted from a day of weeding and chasing the birds, deer and foxes away from their crops which would soon be beginning to ripen. I lightened their steps with a tune on my panpipes and with lighthearted songs and I was invited to spend the night with one of them.

We were greeted by his wife who had prepared an evening meal for her husband and three sons who had been working in the fields. They had two younger boys who had spent the day hunting and had returned with two birds at the same time as their father, and a shy little girl of seven who had helped her mother prepare the meal for the men in the family and now helped her mother serve them. She was dressed in the single typical wrap of cloth ingeniously wrapped about her body like a dress with an embroidered headband holding back her long, black hair. She served her father and myself first, and then each of her brothers, pouring them the traditional weak beer of these people and filling their platters with food. Afterward I entertained the family on my panpipes and sang a few songs while the wife and daughter plucked and cleaned the birds for tomorrow.

My first surprise was when I stepped out to relieve myself before retiring for the night. The man's daughter joined me, and standing beside me, hiked up her skirt to expose her penis and proceeded to urinate. I could not tell in the dark, but my first assumption was that she was a hermaphrodite, which gave me a strange feeling as I had never actually seen one before. While traveling amongst the Thimogona and the Choctaw they had referred to individuals dressed like the women as man-woman or neither man nor woman whom I had suspected might be hermaphrodites but I ever saw any of them up close to verify if they were, and later when I understood the term they used better, I had concluded that I had been mistaken about their physiology. As for the child's female parts it was too dark to see them and it would not have been proper to stare. Standing there beside the child was most uncomfortable and goose bumps formed on my arms and legs.

Like most homes, the farmer's home consisted of one room where they both ate and slept. The husband spread out a mat in one corner for himself, and his wife took a place along the wall while the five boys spread out in the corner opposite their father, leaving me a third corner. Then came my second surprise. The father was joined by his youngest child, the seven-year-old hermaphrodite child I had initially assumed to be his daughter.

There was no light but one's eyes grow accustomed to seeing in the dark, and besides, there are certain noises and movements that one comes to know after a while. Father and child were arousing each other! Now I know nothing about hermaphrodites other than they are freaks of nature and that they appear to be more common among the Greeks though I also heard of them while with the Ottoman. I must confess to being most curious what the man was going to do and so I positioned myself so it would appear that I had fallen asleep but so I could have as an unobstructed view as possible. They kissed and caressed, fondling each other between the legs, and I wondered what it would be like to fondle an individual who had both male and female parts.

So perverted was the idea that my member began to stir with the thought. The father showed no hesitation and even in the dark I could tell the child had firmly grasped the father's member and was stroking it. The rest of the family had fallen asleep, or at least paid no heed to what was happening. The child eventually rolled over on her stomach and her father mounted her from behind, whether penetrating her cunt or her ass I could not tell. Either way, much to my shame, I must confess that witnessing this congress between a father and his hermaphroditic child I found most arousing and not only was I fully erect but I was aching to release my seed. Only the fear of being caught prevented me from stroking myself and when the father finally released his seed I was leaking the clear nectar that sometimes precedes a man's seed. It was a long time before I finally fell asleep.

The following morning after breaking our fast we bathed in a nearby stream, these natives having the same unhealthy obsession with bathing as most of the other tribes I have encountered, and having the same lack of a moral conscience, males and females and adults and children all bathing nakedly and before each other. It was thus that I received my final surprise. The man's youngest child was no hermaphrodite. He was very much a boy. Unable to contain my curiosity, I inquired of the father why the boy dressed like a girl and performed the duties of a woman, not being so brash as to mention the role I had seen him play the previous night. I was informed that with a husband and five sons, a wife needed help, and so it was that once a mother without daughters had given birth to five consecutive males, tribal law allowed the sixth boy, on reaching one year of age, to be made to act as a woman for it is well known that females make better servants than men. Such boys were called cusmos and they waited on the males of the family as women do and were given to men in marriage. He said with obvious pride that to have such a boy was a great honour and would bring him great wealth when a husband was chosen for him. (2)

I was much surprised and tried to imagine Father or Mother purposefully raising me or my young brother to look like and behave as a girl, and me sitting at home wearing a dress and learning how to cook and sew and clean house. Of course I could imagine no such thing, and I certainly could not imagine Father having congress with me or my younger brother and especially in the presence of my mother or my sisters. Though I could not imagine such a thing, to my shame, I must confess that the thought caused me great arousal and thankfully I had taken to wearing breeches once again, and fortunately they were baggy so as to conceal my erection. I have already said I am becoming a savage, and my reaction to these thoughts only further confirms my observation.

These people also knew of the legend of The Gilded One, El Aquele Dourado, whose kingdom they claimed lay still further to the south and west so I did not stay with them but continued on through their land. A week later I met another family of five boys and a sixth son, tens summers of age, being raised as a cusmos and if it had not been for my earlier exposure I would have never known the child waiting on me was not a girl so effeminate were his looks and his behavior. Noticing my attentiveness to his son, the father advised me that he and his wife were raising their boy as a cusmos and I felt compelled to complement them on how well they had raised their son, acutely aware that if I were to complement a couple back in my homeland on how much like a girl their son was I would certainly be challenged to a duel for such an insult.

Instead, both mother and father were greatly pleased with my praise and the mother even went so far as to say he would make a great wife and would bring her and her husband great honor. The father confided, sadly, that there was one aspect of being a cusmos that he could not prepare his son for as he was not a man so attracted to one of his own sex, and though he knew ruffians in the village who would readily educate his son, he was not prepared to allow them to do so. His son, he explained proudly, was being raised to become a wife, not a whore. I began to laugh and then covered it with a fit of coughing, claiming that something had gone down the wrong way. While some of the customs of these savages I found horrifying, others I must admit were comical, and the father's statement was certainly one of the latter, though I know many who would find it horrifying also.

I told him I understood his dilemma and appreciated the difference. Stepping outside, we sat down and watched the sun setting as his son served us Black Drink and he produced two pipes and we smoked a bowl of topaco leaves. He observed that he had noticed my interest in his youngest son and he meant me no offence, but though I was a skilled musician and storyteller, he and his wife were hoping one of the village chiefs might seek their son as a second or third wife. I in turn admitted that I found his youngest boy attractive but informed him that despite the beauty and skill of his son, I was not yet ready to marry.

As foreign and unnatural as the relationship was, I did not find it at all strange to say such a thing to a father about his son, further evidence of just how much of a savage I had become and how comfortable I was in their skin. The father then asked, in a still lower voice, if I would consider accepting payment to introduce his son to that aspect of being a wife that he could not. My immediate thought was that Satan himself had to be walking with me and looking over my shoulder in his eagerness to tempt me to sin so he could claim my soul. Since seeing the farmer's son some ten days earlier, I had been unable to get him out of my mind and had gone to sleep each night thinking of him and his father having congress before the rest of the family, and had often had a dream of such intensity during the night that I spilt my seed in my sleep. Now I was being offered an opportunity to have congress with just such a boy.

When I hesitated because of such thoughts, he thought it was because I was expecting a high price for such a service, and he continued that he and his wife were poor, but his sons were good hunters and would provide me with provisions for my journey, and that his wife was a skilled seamstress and she and their youngest son, though only ten, made fine cloaks and hats to sell at the market that surpassed those made by women three times his age, and I could have my choice of what they had to offer. I replied that had not been the reason for my pause, and that I found his son most attractive and would happily introduce him to congress between those of the same gender, if that was his wish and that of his wife, and if his son would have me as his teacher. He assured me it would be his wife's desire, and was shocked to think that I might think his son would not be willing. He called for the two of them and informed them of our discussion, and both were most receptive to the idea. With that, he smiled and said it was time to go to sleep.

He and his wife lay down in one corner and his five sons took up their place in the farthest corner as seems to be the habit of these families, leaving me one of the other corners. As I lay down on the mat, I put to the side the jar of fat I had been given by the father. The young boy joined me shyly and hesitantly with a look of apprehension in his eyes. As he lay down, I whispered to him if he was reluctant or frightened, we did not have to do this. He replied with a quaver in his voice that he was frightened but not reluctant, and that he had witnessed his mother and father many times and wanted to learn this part of being a cusmos so he might bring honor to his family. Assuring him that I would be gentle and that we would take things slowly, and that he would find there was nothing to be frightened about, I drew him closer to me and reached out and untied his garment. Accustomed to only having to remove another's loincloth, I found unwinding the coils of cloth awkward and I am sure there was no way that the boy's parents and his five brothers were unaware of what was happening.

In my wickedness and perversity I found that thought erotic, and by the time I had the boy's dress removed my member was jutting out the front of my breeches. Quickly untying the string and pushing my breeches down, I whispered for the boy to show me what he had observed his mother doing to his father. He immediately reached down and cupping my testicles he began to fondle them and roll then in their loose skin. Being a boy he knew their tenderness and handled them gently. He then slipped his fingers about my stiff member and began to rapidly stroke it. Reaching down, I told him to go more slowly and gently so the pleasure would last, and I demonstrated on his own little cocklet, rubbing it vigorously for a second, and then stroking it more gently. He immediately smiled his understanding and looked up at me trustingly, causing my first leakage of my clear nectar. I had him feel its texture, and then had him bring his fingertips to his nose and lips to smell it and taste it, which of course caused more of it to flow such was my arousal. All the while I stroked his little cocklet which quickly became firm and jutted out the size of my thumb.

I then asked if he had seen his parents do anything else and he nodded and snuggling down, he took my swollen member in his hand and began to lick it, running his tongue from my stones to the tip of my cock and swirling it around the bulb. Again he attacked vigorously like a starving man eating a leg of mutton, and again I told him to slow down. I lay back and enjoyed watching the youngster pleasuring me and again my clear nectar oozed out of my swollen cock and a quiver of delight rippled up my spine as I watched him savoring it. I then had him turn about and I took his stones in my mouth and sucked on them, and then slipped my lips about his little cocklet and sucked on it as I slowly bobbed my head up and down, causing the boy to quiver with delight and gasp for breath.

After pleasuring him that way for a while, I had him turn around again and continue pleasuring me, copying what I had done to him. As he did so I thought of his mother and father laying in the next corner and knowing what their youngest son and I were doing, and of his five brothers at the opposite end of the room listening and watching their youngest brother. There was no way that any of them were sleeping. The thought of them watching and listening and knowing this was the young boy's first time heightened my arousal and I whispered that I was about to shoot my seed.

He did not withdraw his lips and seconds later I felt my seed race up the core of my cock and spurt into his mouth. It had been at least three weeks since I last had spilt my seed and I came forcefully and copiously, quickly filling his mouth, and even though he had begun to swallow my slime I filled his mouth so quickly it oozed out of the corners of his mouth and drooled down around and off his chin. It was delightful and I inhaled and exhaled deeply and loudly in bliss as I continued to pump my first two fingers and thumb up and down his slender cocklet, it being too small to use my fist, and as he drained my cock of my remaining seed he suddenly quivered and began to buck with his own orgasm.

We rested for a long time afterward, the boy snuggled up in my arms, his smooth, naked body pressed up against mine. He of course still had the smooth roundness and lack of muscular definition typical of a boy of ten, and having been raised as a girl, his muscles were soft. I slowly caressed and kneaded his smooth, compact little buttocks, and ran my finger up along the crack, pausing at his anus to massage it. Reaching for the container of fat, I dipped my pointer finger in the jar and worked the fat into his anus, slipping my fingertip into his hole and twisting it and then dipping it in the jar and inserting it again into the boy's anus, this time just a fraction farther. And so I slowly greased his anus, and then applied the fat to my knob, wiping my finger off on my shaft. I then had the boy raise himself on his knees and elbows and squat back, the position I had found from experience being the easiest for penetration when one is a virgin.

Placing the tip of my stiff member against his hole, I had the boy slowly squat back, at the same time grasping his hips and guiding his motion so he backed down on my member. I whispered for him to relax his anal muscle and to open it as if he was defecating, and ever so slowly he backed down on my member until my bulb was wedged in his anus. Grasping his hips tighter, I slowly pressed forward. From his grunting and panting and my heavy breathing everyone in the household had to know what we were doing and again the eroticism of fucking this tender, virgin, ten-year-old boy in the presence of his mother and father and his five older brothers caused my loins to ache with desire. The boy was tight and I was larger than most men, but we were slow and gentle and well lubricated, and we were both eager, and slowly my knob wedged open his anus until at last it popped inside his rectum. As I felt his anal muscle snap behind my knob, I paused to catch my breath and to allow him time to appreciate the sensation before slowly sinking my cock on up his rectum until my coarse hairs were pressed against his smooth, soft buttocks.

I paused again, delighting in feeling my swollen cock surrounded by hot, moist, throbbing flesh, delighting in the knowledge I was fucking this virgin ten-year-old boy, and delighting in the knowledge that he was feeling the unique pleasure of being penetrated and fucked for the first time in his young life. I then slowly began to pump my hips to and fro, working slowly not out of any need to be quiet, but so the pleasure would be prolonged, for me, and for him. A woman is out of duty, a boy is for pleasure, and what pleasure it is. My cock throbbed and the rim of my knob burned and I knew from experience the boy's rectum was throbbing in time with my cock and his anus was burning with the same pleasure as the rim of my bulb. The two pleasures were in my mind proof indisputable that God had designed men and boys for this act. Why else would he make a boy's anus feel pleasure, and why else would he make the shape of a boy's rectum and a man's cock fit like a glove fits a finger? As I worked my cock in and out of his tender body, I reached under him and found that he was erect. Slipping my thumb and first two fingers about the tiny cocklet, I began to stroke it in time with my thrusts in and out of his body.

I went slowly and paused only once to allow our desires to subside, knowing that to do it too long or to pause too many times would not prolong his pleasure, and I had no desire to rub his tender little pucker raw for his first time. So I allowed the pressure to build up, and then slowly increased the speed of my thrusts as my desire grew until again I felt the familiar twang in my loins and the burn of my seed up the core of my cock and out the tip of my numb member. I spurted copiously and furiously once again so great was my arousal and desire, filling his little rectum with my seed, and I felt his little cocklet throb and he quivered and arched his back with his second orgasm that night.

In the morning after we had washed and broken our fast, the boy's brothers presented me with two rabbits they had killed, skinned, gutted and smoked, and though they did not say anything they all smiled knowingly at me, and they all smiled at their kid brother and slapped him on the back. The boy's mother and father displayed their collection of cloaks and bade me choose and I insisted it was not necessary and that it had been my pleasure to help them, but they insisted and beamed proudly as I praised their work. The boy presented me with a white, wool funnel-shaped hat with an intricate design embroidered around the rim, looking up at me with pride in his work and beaming with my praise. The boy walked me to the edge of their village, and thanked me for the previous night and I wished him the blessing of the gods in finding a husband who would be gentle and appreciative of him.

Passing out of the land of the Laches, I continued following the mountain range, gradually and continually climbing through thick jungle along twisting animal trails. It was while following one of these trails one morning that I heard a tremendous roar ahead of me like I have never heard before. Proceeding cautiously, I came out upon a ledge to find a raging river racing over a cliff to fall in a cloud of mist into a canyon cutting through the jungle. Never had I seen anything so large and powerful, magnificently beautiful but frightening in its size. It looked to be over five hundred feet deep and the canyon walls were sheer drops. I was about to continue on when I spotted clinging to the canyon wall opposite me a man, clearly in trouble.

Running now, I continued along the ridge to the top of the falls where the river narrowed to about sixty feet wide. I continued up the river a bit, wondering how I was going to cross it, but the further I went the wider and deeper it got, and was much too fast for me to attempt to wade or swim. Frustrated and with a sinking heart, knowing the person could not hold on to his precarious perch long, I returned to the top of the falls where large boulders and jagged rocks almost blocked the river and turned it into rapids. Despite the risk to my own life, I knew I would find no better place to cross. Hacking down a slender sapling nearby, I trimmed off the branches and using it for support and balance, I cautiously made my way across the slippery rocks, my heart in my throat, knowing one slip and the man I hoped to rescue would be watching me being swept over the falls to my death. (3)

Reaching the other side, I made my way back to the falls and was relieved to see the person was still there. A quick look at the crumbling bank told me there was no way I was going to be able to climb down to help him. I saw only one chance. Yelling to him to hold on, I found the sturdiest vines I could find, cut them down and setting aside my pack, mantle and weapons, I braided them together. He was only about twelve feet below the ledge, not a great distance. Returning to the bank and approaching as close as I could without the bank caving in under me, I tossed him the vine. It reached him, but he made no effort to grab it and whatever he called out I could not hear over the roar of the falls. From the jerking of his head, and I noticed then, the way his right arm was hanging, I realized that it was probably broken. There was only one way he was going to be rescued. Cutting down more vines and threading them in with the rest, I wrapped it about the trunk of a tree that I figured was far enough back and sturdy enough to support my weight. Removing my tunic and trousers, I carefully crawled over the ledge to his left so I did not knock anything down upon him. Grabbing tightly onto the vine, I slowly lowered myself down to the narrow ledge where he had fallen.

It was a boy, perhaps four years younger than myself. His eyes were wide with fear and pain, his muscles cramped. Wrapping the vine about his waist and tying it tightly, I yanked on it to be sure it was secure, and using the vine to pull myself up I scrambled back up to the canyon top. Years of sailing the high seas and climbing the rigging to adjust the sails in the worst of storms, ascending the canyon was no problem. Then ever so slowly and watching that the vine did not snag on a sharp rock, I hauled him to the top. My arms and legs were aching with weariness by the time we were done, but the braids of the vine held, not a big surprise given my experience in mending nets and rigging. There are some things one does not forget. We lay there gasping for breath for a long time before we finally sat up. The knot in the vine was too tight to untie and I reached for my sword and cut it. The boy looked at my sword in wonder, and then at me, his cheeks caked with mud and streaked with tears, and he suddenly threw himself upon me and embraced me, chattering wildly, half in tears and half in joy.

And so it was that I met my first member of the Chibcha tribe. After checking his arm, I pealed a branch and by pantomime indicated for him to bite on to. He did so uncertainly and with obvious apprehension as I knelt on his chest. Grabbing his arm, I gave it a sudden twist before he could resist, resetting his dislocated shoulder as I had seen done with many a sailor who had taken a fall from the rigging. He surely had to have thought I had intended on maiming him for life and was confused as I bound his shoulder and fashioned a sling for his arm. I then followed him back up the river the way I had come. Several candle marks later we emerged from the jungle, a large city in the centre of a mountain-rimmed plateau spread out below us. Heading down a well-travelled road and entering the city, we were greeted cordially and with respect, and seeing my injured companion several rushed forward to help.

Continuing to the centre of the city and approaching the largest and most ornate building in the nobility district, it was evident why we had been greeted with such concern. Servants rushed to help my companion, and a medicine man was sent for. A couple came running out of the ornate house and to my surprise everyone immediately turned their backs or stared at the ground or off into space and the person beside me jabbed me in the ribs and motioned for me not to look, which I could not understand but I lowered my eyes nonetheless. When the medicine man arrived and observed what I had done, he announced there was nothing more he need do. I noticed that he too avoided looking at the man who had emerged from the ornate house when he spoke. The couple were profuse in their thanks for what I had done and I was invited into their home.

I joined them, keeping my eyes averted until the man and woman left. Servants brought in juice and fresh fruit and the boy and I talked. He asked about me and where I had come from and what tribe I belonged to, and how I had learned to twist vines into ropes and to set shoulders. I learned from him that the Chibcha were farmers, and miners, mining emeralds and gold from veins in the mountains or panning gold nuggets from their streams. They made beautiful and intricate emerald, gold and copper earrings, nose plugs, rings and necklaces and they traded gold, shells, feathers, skins, tobacco, salt, and cuca leaves with their neighbors. They were also a musical people, playing many different instruments including drums, rattles, bells, trumpets, and ocarinas, bulbous ceramic flutes. They were also a warlike people he said proudly, fighting with clubs, spear throwers, arrows, and lances and wearing protective helmets and breast plates and using shields. They took trophy heads of their enemies which they proudly displayed at the entrance to their villages and in their temples and they sacrificed captives taken in war to their gods, which included Chibchacum, the patron of metal workers and merchants, Zue, the sun god, and Chie, the moon goddess.

That evening I entertained them with my panpipe and the father inquired what tribe I was from and my purpose for journeying to them. Looking at the mother and son for it was obviously improper to look at the father, I explained I was an entertainer now well over two and a half summer's travel from my tribe, and that I was seeking a way back to my people, and also a chief whom I had heard was fabulously rich and renewed himself once a year by sprinkling his body with gold dust which he then washed off by immersing himself in a lake. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that they glanced at each other and grinned and exchanged suspicious looks, and I was asked why I sought this chief. I replied that I was curious if it was really so and thought it would be a marvel to see, and my own people had a similar belief about renewal by immersion in water. The boy I had rescued, whose name was Urqoma, laughed and said then I had found him, and gestured at his father. (4)

I looked at him in surprise and then remembering myself quickly looked away. He said that in that I had saved his son, he would make an exception to the rule of not looking directly at him in my case, when in the privacy of his home. I found that more comfortable, but I tried not to look at him all the same, which was difficult for I was raised with the belief not to look at the person you are talking to was impolite. I asked why he coated his body with gold dust and he said that it had always been done, by his father and his father's father and his father before that, and that the Chibcha believed that the gold dust represented all the things that happen on the earth during the year and cling to the body and weigh it down, and by washing it off once a year he was washing away all evil spirits that had caused bad things to happen to the Chibcha the previous year so they could begin fresh once again, while at the same time offering the god of the lake gold, emeralds, and gems which his people tossed into the lake. He said it was too late for me to see the ceremony, for they performed it only once a year, when the length of the day and the length of the night was the same, which was at the beginning of the last month of the rainy season, and that was almost a moon ago.

He then asked what I meant when I said my people had a similar belief, and I replied that it was the belief of my people that immersing a person in a lake or a river cleansed them of sins and meant the renunciation of the world, the flesh, and the devil so one could be received in the Kingdom of God. I told them of the first baptisms by Saint John to prepare for the coming of the Son of God, and I told them of how King Herod had offered his stepdaughter Salome anything she wanted for pleasing him by dancing for him on his birthday, even half of his kingdom, and how she had asked for the beheading of John on behalf of her mother because John had denounced the wedding of her mother to Herod, who was the half-brother of her first husband, and in that he was also angered by John's denunciation of his wedding, Herod willingly brought her John's head on a plate.

This was most difficult to explain for though the chief and his family knew about evil spirits, they had never heard of the devil, nor of a birthday as they do not see the day of an individual's birth as important and so do not celebrate it. They asked which son of which god for there were many gods with many sons in the spirit world. Even more difficult to understand was how one could swear to do without the earth, or one's flesh, and John's action greatly confused them for they saw no wrong in a woman marrying the half-brother of her exhusband, and, in fact, felt it an honorable thing for the brother to do. Women having a large role in the governing of the tribe, they did understand and agree with Salome and her mother's revenge, and they took great delight in the tale of the beheading and serving of John's head on a plate.

The next night, in celebration of my rescue of Urqoma, there was a great feast with music, singing, and dancing and I played the panpipes and was asked to tell the invited nobles the story of John the Baptist, and especially about Salome and I am afraid my attempt to explain the similarity between their custom and Christian baptism was a failure. They were much more interested in the presentation of John's head on a plate to Salome. As the evening progressed, the women left with the children, and the men gathered to sit and smoke and chew cuca leaves. Once again a feeling of great euphoria and exhilaration passed over me and I felt a great acuteness in my awareness and my senses, everything becoming more sharply focused and brighter in color, stronger in smell and sharper in taste. Although I felt an increased sexual desire I did not feel compelled to act upon it as I had the last time, and if anyone else had prurient feelings I do not know for I do not remember much of the evening. The rest of the evening is a blur of vague images and of shapes that melted and flowed around me in a mixture of colors, sometimes with dreamy slowness and at other times with lightening-like speed.

The next day, which by my estimate was my nineteenth birthday, Urqoma's father, several elders, and Urqoma took me to the sacred lake where their renewal ceremony was performed. The king of the Tenochca I thought was highly regarded, but never have I seen a man treated with such reverence as Urqoma's father. If I were ever able to report this experience to Pope Innocent he would be amazed for even the Holy Father was not deemed so sacred by his people. Indeed, not even Jesus had been! It was a fairly small, circular lake, about a quarter mile in diameter, situated in a sink hole and surrounded by dense jungle and high cliffs. To my surprise, I was informed by the chief that in honor of having saved his son Urqoma, the tribe wished to make Urqoma and me blood brothers, and as a result of what I had said the previous night, he and the elders of the tribe wished to be baptized as Christians for if I was one then my tribe must be a powerful and honorable people. While Urqoma and I stripped, the chief and elders donned their ceremonial robes and colorful headdresses made from the plumage of their local birds.

A fire was lit in a clay pot and the smoke wafted over Urqoma and me and the chief and elders and two young braves who had accompanied us. The Shaman lit topaco leaves in an ornately carved pipe decorated with feathers and it was passed around as the Shaman recited prayers to their gods. He then picked up a clay pot and removing the lid, began to sprinkle the contents over Urqoma and me as we stood there stark naked and surrounded by the others. To my surprise it was fine gold dust. It clung to our skin and hair and soon we were covered from head to toe like two gold statues with gold members and testicles, gold teats and gold buttocks. To my horror the sight of Urqoma standing there naked and his body coated in gold dust caused my member to begin to swell, which did not go unnoticed by at least the Shaman. Much to my relief we were herded onto a small raft before anyone else noticed and were rowed out by the two braves to the middle of the lake where we slipped off and washed off the gold dust.

To these people, like others I have met, gold is valued only in that it is soft and can be shaped into intricate designs and figures. Similarly precious jewels, such as emeralds, which seem to be quite common in these mountains, are valued for their beauty and nothing more. They have no concept of coinage, normally bartering what they have for what they do not, a chicken for a mantle, a mantle for a dozen fish, and fish for tubers they boil and eat, using cocoa beans in trade only if they do not have something else to trade.

Wading back to the shore, we were handed our daggers and we turned to face each other. Taking my right hand Urqoma suddenly cut the palm with his dagger so he drew blood and the Shaman motioned for me to do the same with my dagger to Urqoma. We clasped our bloody hands and were declared brothers and a salve was applied to our palms to staunch the flow of blood. The Shaman then turned to me and indicated it was now time for them to be baptized. Feeling very self-conscious and struggling to remember the words, it being a long time since I had witnessed my last baptism and then not really having paid that close attention, I lead the chief out into the lake. Performing the sign of the cross and pronouncing him baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I had him lean back. Explaining what was required and insuring it was all right, I supported him until he was submerged and then pushed him upright. That I had been allowed to touch the Zipa placed me one level below him and higher than anyone else present, even the Shaman, and for the remainder of my stay with these people I was regarded with the same awe and reverence, a most humbling experience. The Shaman stepped up next, and then the elders in order of importance, Urqoma, and finally the two braves who had rowed us out into the lake.

Returning to the village, we engaged in a huge feast again with singing and dancing and much drinking with Urqoma and me the honored guests and again the tale of how I had rescued him was told, with even greater embellishment, and I was again asked about this Son of God and they were much distraught at His reception on earth and His crucifixion. Several of the elders expressed confusion why He allowed this to be if he was a son of a god and so powerful and I confess I did an inadequate job of explaining that he had died for our sins for in their world good was rewarded and evil punished and one might die defending the honor of the tribe but certainly not because some had done bad things. Several bare-breasted maidens danced before us, and from their suggestive movement and the knowing looks of the other young men envying us, it was evident that we were free to choose one of them. Any of my countrymen who had just turned nineteen would have eagerly done so.

Figuring there was nothing I was going to be able to do about it, I hoped that when the time came I and the maiden would be given privacy, and that I would be able to explain to her somehow that I was not interested without offending her and her people. As more of their beer was passed around, I considered getting drunk so I would be unable to perform. Most unexpectedly, the Shaman came to my rescue. Sitting beside me he asked many questions about Christ and His Father and about Saint John and relieved by the distraction, I enthusiastically answered his questions and elaborated on the Catholic faith I am sure with far more zeal than he had ever expected.

Looking at me curiously, he asked if I was a priest. I was about to say no but then thought better of it, suspecting my words would be taken less seriously if I confessed I was not. Instead I replied that I was a missionary, one who had sworn to spread the word of his faith, for indeed, I had done so on several occasions. He nodded in understanding, and then asked if among the people of my tribe our priests had wives, or had congress with those of the opposite sex. Seeing my way out, and wondering if the Shaman had not suspected as much from watching my response to the young maidens, I said that they did not. He said he knew of priests such as that, and then asked if the priests and speakers such as myself – they had no word for missionary – had congress with other males. I immediately responded that they did not for they were totally and completely devoted to God and only God, though there were exceptions. He said no more and shortly thereafter excused himself, saying he was old and tired, and as he left I noticed he exchanged words with Urqoma first. Shortly thereafter, Urqoma suggested we retire also.

Returning to his house, he said that the Shaman had told him of our conversation, and asked if his blood brother was one who preferred men over women. I could have lied and said I preferred neither, but he was my blood brother, and from his tone he did not sound opposed nor offended by the idea, and at most, sounded neutral on the matter. So I confessed that I did and was about to say it was not an important thing, but before I could he said that he was a man and had become a man two summers ago, at which time he would have been thirteen, but before that he and his friends did with each other what husbands and wives do together. I smiled and replied that seemed to be quite common among the people I have met. Taking my hand and looking me in the eyes, he said he would do so with me, if I so desired. I of course responded that it was not necessary, to which he asked despondently if I did not find him desirable. Of course I responded that was just the opposite, and that I had been attracted to him the moment I saw him, well, I corrected with a grin, after I had gotten him off the cliff anyway. He laughed and said that if it had been before then he would have had something extra to grab onto.

He again offered and again I thanked him but said it was not necessary, to which he responded that it was not uncommon among brothers who were unmarried. Again I said that he was not obligated to have congress with me, and he responded that he was offering because blood brothers had a special duty to help each other, which he was desirous to do, and besides, it had been two years since he had congress with another male and would enjoy it, especially with me. I could tell from the look in his eyes and from his voice that he was sincere, but I asked anyway, and when he responded that what he said was the truth, I knew he was and told him I was glad.

We smiled, a bit self-consciously, and tentatively reached for each other. We removed each other's tunic and caressed each other's chest and kissed, and then pushed down each other's breeches and untied each other's under breeches. I asked if he had noticed I was getting an erection at the ceremony at the lake, and he said that he had, but thought perhaps it was just excitement, and that often he got erect with the slightest thought and sometimes at a most awkward time, while helping his mother or sisters or while hunting with his friends, and I said the same happened to me, and we both agreed it was particularly embarrassing when it happened in front of our mothers or sisters. He was most curious about my tattoos, he and his tribe not having that practice, and he was most impressed with my courage when I explained how it was done. He was also curious about my lack of a hood and shivered when I explained it was removed as a covenant to my God, and he asked if now that he was baptized if he would have to have his removed. He was much relieved when I told him that would not have to be so.

The boy was experienced and did not hesitate to stroke my cock, nor to snuggle down and stimulate it with his tongue and his lips. I twisted around, and mouthed and sucked his still limp cock, causing it to begin to swell. At fifteen, he had not yet finished growing, his cock about five finger-widths in length and slender, but he had a large set of balls and his muscles were firm and well defined. We slipped our mouths over each other's cock and began to suck as we slid our lips up and down each other's shaft and I delighted in having a prurient fifteen-year-old boy sucking on my member and in sucking on his. All too soon I reached that point where I knew if I continued I would not be able to hold back and I reached down and stopped his head. He did not understand but smiled when I explained, having never heard of this technique to delay one's ejaculation.

Waiting until we were both calm, we resumed pleasing each other and I closed my eyes and concentrated on the burning pleasure around the rim of my cock and the pleasure of bringing another that same delight, something these primitives seem to understand and appreciate more than my countrymen. We paused a second time, but when we approached that point a third time neither of us could hold back. I grasped his buttocks tightly as I felt my seed burn up the core of my cock and spurt out of the tip of my member and at the same time I felt his hot, thick slime spurt into my mouth. I eagerly swallowed it as he spurted repeatedly and copiously, finding it difficult to swallow fast enough to keep up with him, and I too rapidly filled his mouth with my seed. For the next few minutes we lay there desperately swallowing each other's seed, our balls drawn up tight beneath our benumbed cocks. At last his volume decreased and his spurts were less forceful, as were mine, and finally the two of us lay there sucking on each other rigid cock, drawing out the last of that delicious, bittersweet marrow, trickles of slime having oozed out from the corners of our mouths and about our chins.

When at last we stopped and rose up on an elbow, we glanced at each other and grinned, our lips and chins coated with each other's slime. A feeling of contentment and caring passed over me and the thought that what we had just done was a much closer bond of brotherhood than slashing our palms and sharing blood crossed my mind. We cuddled then and rested, our eyes closed and our minds on the pleasure we had just shared. In time I felt his hand creeping up my thigh to cup my tender balls and roll them in their loose skin, and then continuing on to wrap about my limp member. He squeezed it gently, causing a dollop of my seed to ooze out of the tip. He flicked it off with the tip of his pointer finger and popped it in his mouth. I did likewise, cupping and rolling his large, sweaty balls, and then picking up his limp member and squeezing it, and flipping up the droplet of seed and popping the treat in my mouth. We smiled at each other and continued to stroke each other and then to caress, and being young, he only fifteen and me now nineteen, and of good health, soon we were both stiff again.

He got up and returned in a few moments with a pot of grease. I lubricated his anus as he lubricated my stiff cock, and I then had him lay on his back and I mounted him face to face, a position he was evidently familiar with as he squirmed into position and raised his hips to allow me access to his anus. I penetrated him after only a couple tries and I sank my cock deep up his rectum and then paused to catch my breath and to delight in having my member submerged in hot, moist ass flesh. I then began to thrust my cock in and out of his body, balancing myself on my knees and elbows. It was delightful and I had to pause soon to allow my lust to subside, and he clamped his anus tight beneath my glans, evidently knowing that technique to delay one's climax. After a bit I resumed thrusting my cock in and out of his body, and as I did so I bowed my head and we kissed. The rim of my cock burned with that sweet pain and my benumbed cock seemed to have swollen to twice its size. Soon my breathing had become erratic and heavy and I filled his rectum with my seed.

As soon as I was done, I rolled off him and he lubricated my anus as I greased up his cock, and lying on my back he knelt between my legs and pressed the tip of his cock against my hole. Snorting and grunting like two rutting pigs, we united and he began to fuck me furiously in his excitement and desire. That he was fifteen and me four years his senior added to my arousal. I reached up and stopped him and cautioned him to slow down or we would be done before we had barely begun, and he grinned and said we would just be able to do it all again that much sooner. I could not argue with that and I smiled as he continued to thrust his young cock in and out of my body, and I arched my back with desire as the rim of my anus burned and my rectum throbbed in time with his cock. This was pure, physical desire, two teenage boys filled with lust and delighting in the pleasure of the flesh. He was soon filling my rectum with his hot, thick seed. We sucked in the air, ripe with the musky fragrance of spilt seed and teenage sweat and for us the night had only begun.

So, on that day, April the fourteenth in the year of our Lord one thousand four hundred and ninety-five, I celebrated having a blood brother, my nineteenth birthday, and my first day as a Christian Baptist by repeated congress with this prurient fifteen-year-old boy, the son of a chief revered as a living god, exchanging our seed with each other in this strange city surrounded by unknown tree-clad mountains and jungle. I do not know how Saint John felt after his first Baptism, and I am sure it was nothing like I was feeling, but I felt more renewed and energized and more hopeful about the future than I have for the past two and a half years.

Two days later while talking to the elders, I learned that these people had actually been conquered while being lead by the current chief's uncle. That was another strange custom I discovered. The kingship was inherited but not from father to son. When a king died, his nephew, the eldest son of his eldest sister, became the next king, though I was told occasionally there were exceptions! This was not the first time I discovered uncles had a prominent role in the culture of the group I was living with, and, considering the influence Uncle Paolo has had on me, I can understand why they are revered so and wish in my own country there was a more formal recognition of the part uncles play. What with the strangeness of this land and the novelty of the peoples I was encountering, and with my struggles just staying alive, I had not thought of my family for some time, and the thoughts of Uncle Paolo brought tears of loneliness and longing to my eyes.

Anyway, twenty-five years ago, twenty-five seasons in their language, the present king's uncle had been defeated by a large and powerful kingdom to the south, the Tahuantinsuyu, which means the Land of the Four Quarters. Although conquered, they were allowed to continue with the same leaders, the chief ruling in the name of this new king, and the same way of life except to swear loyalty to the chief of this more powerful tribe and to provide him warriors when he needed them and to deliver tribute to him. They were a conquered people, but life was not that different nor that bad compared to before they had been conquered. I myself found living with these peoples pleasant. Food was plentiful, life was not that hard, I had a blood-brother, and though not widely practiced, congress between men was accepted. Still, I could not resist checking out this other tribe and once I had learned of them they were constantly on my mind. Uncle Paolo's words rang in my ears as clear as if it had been yesterday. "You miss the excitement of seeing things you have never seen before, having new experiences, even the danger and unpleasant experiences that come from exploring the unknown. Do not deny it, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. Travelling is in your blood, Nico, as it is in your father's, and in mine." I left the next day.

Chapter 21
Tahuantinsuyu

Now nineteen, Nico continues on to the land of the Cañaris where he is told their legend of the flood and he spreads the Christian version in his travels. At their capital a young maintenance worker in their baths flirts with him. Continuing on to the Chimu, recently conquered by the Tahuantinsuyu, he engages in a five-some drug-induced orgy with their young men, and several days later, assuming the role of a cacha, and ambassador, he celebrates the pleasures of the flesh on a mountain top with a teenage runner. He finally arrives at the great capital of Cuzco the day after the summer solstice, in time to join in the celebration of Inti Raymi, the Festival of the Sun where he has congress with a 14yo Inca knight.

Codes: tt, Mt; oral, anal

Characters: Huancuyru 13 yo bath maintenance worker, Chimu 18-23. Tahuantinsuyu runner 18, Inca knight 14

Continuing south, I followed a meandering but constantly climbing trail through the thick rain forest and up even further into the mountains, thankful that the rains were not as heavy nor as frequent. The mountains towered all around me, the tops often obscured by mist and cloud. It was a hard, hot climb, but the paths were unobstructed and in the steeper ascents steps were built into the path, reflecting a great skill and effort by the builders. I travelled for close to a month, the villages few and small, the trail dotted with what these people called the ayllu, clusters of ten or so homes making up a family landholding something I suppose like an estate, the occupants all of the same family under the eldest man, whom they called the ccallaric machum, the first grandfather. I usually was given a place to sleep and a morning meal for which I paid by relaying news I had picked up on the way and entertaining with my panpipe or by telling a story. They were peaceful folk and reminded me of Alvaro, the Steward of my estate Quintas de Ribeiro, and his family and I wondered how they were doing and prayed that in my absence the papers I had signed had been adequate to provide them security in my extended and now likely permanent absence. As I thought of them my heart grew heavy and those memories brought memories of my dear family who had surely been filled with grief when I did not return with Colombo and my heart grew heavier and I cursed myself for having left those who loved me so.

Finally I entered the land of the Cañaris, which I learned was a federation of tribes, some matrilineal and others patrilineal, ruled by a monarch. My heart gave a leap when I heard this and I dared hope that I had at long last entered the kingdom of the Great Khan, but that hope was quickly dashed. Their name comes from "kan" meaning snake and "ara" meaning macaw, two of their sacred animals. They wear their hair long and done in a knot at the top of their head, wear only a loincloth to cover their genitals, and have an olive skin and aquiline features. These were definitely not the followers of the Great Khan. While traveling through their land, I made three great discoveries. First, they have a legend of a great flood in which everyone was killed except two brothers who survived by climbing a high mountain. When they returned to their hut, they found food prepared for them. One of the brothers, by the name of Urcocari, stayed and found the food was prepared by a woman with a macaw face and they married and repopulated the world.

I was amazed to hear the legend and was much heartened by it in that it gave credence to the incredible story of the flood that I knew, and which I related to them, and they marveled at the idea of an ark of such size as to contain all the animals of the world. Although the Bible makes no reference to two brothers, one by the name of Urcocari, and their story involved a macaw, a large, brilliant parrot with a long tail and a harsh voice, and the story of Noah a dove who brought a branch indicating land was near, there was no doubt in my mind nor theirs that it was the same flood, and the same vengeful god. In the days to follow when I told stories for my room and board, I told of Noah and the flood, in my small way spreading the gospel and I felt a goodness filling my heart akin to how I felt when I had administered my first baptisms.

The second big discovery was that a ruler, whom they called Inca Tupac Yupanquji, had attacked their chief, Chief Dumma, but the Cañaris were successful and the Inca's troops retreated. The Cañaris then incited the neighboring tribe, the Palas, to rebel against the Inca but the Palas wise men instead told their people to warn Inca Tupac Yupanquji, who sent for reinforcements and built up the fortification between the Palas and the Cañaris. The Cañaris were discouraged by this and offered to submit. Tupac Yupanquji demanded that Dumma and his leaders send their children to him as captives, which they did, and Tupac sent an envoy who was welcomed and a palace was built for Tupac who was then received with grand ceremony. The Cañaris were allowed to keep their own governance and the Inca built bridges and buildings and beautified their capital city which was renamed Tumibamba, which means Knife Valley.

I passed through this great city which I would equate to the finest cities of Europe, having many palaces for the nobles, public buildings and gardens, hot baths, storage houses for grain and crops for times of drought or poor harvest, apartments for the Inca's warriors and outlying forts for protection of the city. Of greatest splendor was a large gold and silver temple to the sun with embedded emeralds and turquoises. Yupanquji returned to his capital but came back to Tumibamba to continue the expansion of his empire, calling for his son, who was born in Tumibamba and was now 20, with 12,000 more men to add to his father's 40,000 and together they fought for three years until their opponent King Quito died. That was the third and biggest surprise of all, that the present ruler had been born in the city and still lived! This great, fabulous empire I had heard so much about and from so far away was no fable. I was amazed that there could be such a huge empire with such large armies, and I wondered once again if perhaps at last I had come upon the land of the Great Khan, and once again my hopes of returning home were renewed. (1)

It was while I was in the public hot baths in Tumibamba soaking the weariness from my muscles and the grime from my body after weeks of constant climbing that a young worker in the baths caught my eye. He was not one who assisted the bathers bathing and saw to other more intimate needs as I had done as a bath boy while in the Ottoman Empire, but one whose job was to maintain the baths, mopping the floors and keeping the intake pipes and the drains in repair and the like. Even with the constant exposure to their unrelenting sun and to the elements, my skin was still much lighter than most, and these were not peoples who decorated their bodies with tattoos, so I stood out from all the others. The boy also caught my eye, being about thirteen years of age with beautiful olive-coloured skin, large, dark, innocent eyes, smooth cheeks, and an eagle-like nose that added to his attractiveness and reminded me of the boy Saul, the son of the Jewish shoemaker in Venice whom I had fucked in his father's shop so long ago. Just as Saul had recognized me as a lover of boys, so had this boy, Huancuyru, whose name means Bee. Although only thirteen, he was also one who preferred congress with members of his own sex, as many boys that age do, and had become a man a year ago in their coming of age ceremony.

In the hopes of attracting my attention, he fastidiously mopped the floor in front of me thinking, as boys his age do, that he was being discreet. I had to smile at his obvious interest, and he, noticing my smile, took it to mean something very different, causing him to pose and flex, displaying his undeveloped muscles and still maturing boyhood, causing me to smile even broader at his efforts, resulting in a very distinct tenting of his loincloth. I could not help but encourage him, and I stood and dried my body and my hair, displaying my manhood openly and covering my eyes so he might have a long and close look, resulting in the tent in his loincloth to become even more pronounced.

I strolled casually over to him and stepping out of the water, observed how refreshing it was and how relaxed it made one feel after a long, hot day on the trail. He of course asked why I was on the trail and I told him I was from a far away land and was travelling to meet his Emperor, and he observed that he had never seen anyone who looked as I did and he inquired about the markings on my skin. I bade him have a closer look, and as he did so I explained the meaning of the symbols, and explained to him how I had received them. I also inhaled deeply as he bent over me to examine my body and my mind was filled with lust for this handsome, young boy as my lungs filled with the fresh fragrance of his young body and the smell of lust cloaking him as it does boys his age.

I observed that as refreshing as the bath was, a cold drink and a plate of fresh fruit would be even more so. He offered to guide me to a vendor whose wares were always fresh, and in return I offered to share my purchase with him. As we talked, he bit into the juicy melon and the juice ran from the corners of his mouth and around his chin and I wanted to grab him and lick that sweet juice off his face. He knew he was arousing me and he bit into the melon seductively and flirted with me with his eyes and I just as openly let him know he had aroused me. At last I could stand it no longer and I grabbed him and pressed my lips to his, thrilling with the sweetness of the melon on his lips and his breath, and even more with the sweetness of boyhood. I whispered that the bath and the drink and fruit were all refreshing, but there was still something even more refreshing, and he blushed and said he knew a place where we could be alone.

And so we left the market and entered one of the many public gardens, the enclosing walls filled with many niches hidden by dense and strategically planted shrubbery. We sat on a ledge and embraced and kissed and he ran his hands over my body excitedly and eagerly and to my surprise he slipped his tongue in my mouth and slid it over my own tongue. He sucked on my mouth, creating a vacuum and locking our lips together and he looked mischievously into my eyes. I ran my hand up along his thigh, smooth and hot, and wrapped my fingers around the rigid tent pole jutting out his breechclout. He placed his own hand, small and hot, on my thigh and caressed it lightly, causing my swollen member to ache and jerk excitedly beneath my own loincloth.

At the age of thirteen the humours of lust were flowing hotly through his veins and though six years older than he I was feeling as prurient as a boy of thirteen myself and the first of my clear nectar oozed out of the tip of my aching cock and soaked into my breechclout. It was dusk and the gardens were filled with shadows, some of whom were uttering familiar moans. These gardens were evidently well known and used. The boy Huancuyru and I quickly chucked our loincloths and began to caress and kiss each other's naked body hungrily, the boy eager to sample sex with a complete and very different stranger, and to learn the art of congress from a man, and me just as eager to share in the enthusiasm and open delight of physical pleasure as only those at the bud of adolescence can know, and to teach this eager, lust-driven youngster how enjoyable congress between two males can be.

Dropping to his knees, he slipped his mouth over my bulb and began to suck, and I placed my hands on his slender shoulders and looked down at this prurient young cherub, his thick lips closed tightly about my cock and his long, feathery eyelashes fluttering with excitement, his downy cheeks sunken in as he sucked deeply on my member. I delighted in the physical pleasure of being sucked, and in the even greater pleasure of watching a young thirteen-year-old boy delighting in the act of sucking cock. I was reminded of the lush gardens of Venice where men and boys sought this forbidden pleasure, and the alcoves and gardens in the Vatican where cardinals and guardsmen and priests and choir boys sought pleasures of the flesh. Here, thousands of leagues away, men and boys sought the same delight, this universal appeal common to all nations. More of my clear nectar oozed out of my swollen cock and into the mouth of the boy pleasuring me, and I wondered how many hundreds, nay, thousands, of young boys were savouring the sweet nectar of a man that night in this vast world.

Breathing deeply, I at last stopped the boy, much to his surprise, and having him stand, I squatted before him, and cupping his smooth, compact buttocks I bowed my head and whispered a prayer of thanks as I opened my mouth and went down on his slender, projecting little sausage. It was slender and short, the size of my thumb, and like a babe still finding pleasure and peace sucking his digit, I sucked on this thirteen-year-old boy's stiff cocklet. His breath quavered with his excitement and he too leaked that sweet, clear nectar that precedes one's seed and I closed my eyes and savoured his delicious offering. I knew the pleasure he was feeling, and the intensity of that pleasure when one is only thirteen, and I clamped my lips tightly below his bulb, knowing he did not have the will to hold back.

Drawing him down to the ground, we lay facing each other but in opposite directions, and caressing each other's buttocks we went down on each other, eagerly sucking each other's cock, My member throbbed hotly and in time with the blood pulsating through my body, my member, my heart, and my mind throbbing together as the young boy's hot, moist mouth sucked on my swollen cock and his lips side up and down my bone. I sucked on his with growing anticipation, delighting in the throbbing of that hot little bone between my lips. And then he was squirting his juice into my mouth and I in turn began to squirt mine into his, the two of us bucking and grunting as we spilt our seed and eagerly drank the other's. His marrow was mild and watery and I drank it down hungrily, knowing the pleasure he was feeling being sucked off by a man, and I arched my back and sighed with pleasure as my own thick milk filled his mouth. So great was my pleasure that I was greatly tempted to remain in the city and seek him out again, but I knew also that a second night would never meet the ecstasy of our first time together and I decided the memory of this night would serve me far better if there were no second night.

Much encouraged, I continued my progress south, the weather continuing to grow colder the farther south I travelled and the higher the mountains I skirted. My enthusiasm and encouragement slowly declined as day after day I passed from ayllu to ayllu. It was now May but it felt much more like fall and the approach of winter to me. The farther south I went the better maintained was the pathway I was now following, the one encouragement I clung to. I had learned from the Cañaris that travel on these paths was restricted and that citizens of the empire had to have permission to travel from one place to another, and failure to obtain permission was met with a severe punishment of lashes or beatings. I had also learned that all members of the empire were expected to wear insignia that indicated one's rank, class, and occupation and failure to do so was punished just as severely.

While with the Cañaris I had by then switched the clothing I had worn with the Chibcha to that being worn by the Tahuantinsuyu which was much more functional. The men wear a breechclout about the breadth of a hand and a half in width which they wear between their legs and tucked over their belt in front and back, and a sleeveless tunic of cotton or llama wool which extends to their knees, the design and colour of the trim indicating one's rank and the design of the tunic indicating one's tribe and origin. The tunic I was wearing I had selected from the market vendor because it was the cheapest and I was running low on things to trade. It was cheap because it was of a strange design unknown by the seller, which suited my purposes well for I did not want to be identified with any particular tribe. I made it even more unusual by adding a trim of alternating red and green strips interlaced with gold thread, my attempt to represent the flag of Portugal. A man also carries a cloak five feet by six feet for the cold besides for dress and a bag slung over one shoulder to carry his coca bag containing coca, amulets, and other small items. On his feet he wears sandals. I myself carried two bags, one now crammed full of packets of seeds I have collected on my journey.

Most men wore their hair short with bangs over the forehead and down over their ears along the sides though I was told there was one upper class in this vast empire that wore their hair long and so I left my locks, now extending over my shoulders. Tattoos I was told were found only among those living on the coast. Physically I was obviously not one of the citizens of this great empire and so I dressed accordingly, taking on the role of a cacha, which means a messenger and refers to an ambassador or someone similar who travels himself from lord to lord across this land instead of sending someone to represent him. My facial tattoos, the Cross of Saint Christopher which I wore about my neck, the silver horse clip, my most treasured memento from a time and life I could barely remember that I wore in my headband, and my sword in its scabbard and my daggers certainly made me a unique individual and I suspect a rather outlandish one. In addition to all that, I wore in my headband two feathers, one purple and one yellow, which I felt added a touch of nobility to my appearance.

About a month after leaving Tumibamba, I entered the territory that was once ruled by the Chimu but which I was told had been conquered by the Tahuantinsuyu when today's elders were in their prime, which would be some twenty-five years ago. I found these people earthy and even more sexually open than any other peoples I have met. The girls were sexually aggressive and were just as likely to pursue men as they were pursued, and the boys and men showed no shame in engaging in congress with each other. Even their pottery displayed their obsession with sex, the openings having the shape of a man's penis, often erect, or the shape of a woman's vulva, so in order to drink one had to place ones lips about the ceramic cock or cunt. Other pottery depicted men and women copulating, men and men engaged in oral sex, and even women embracing each other.

Those who were licentious were naturally attracted to anyone who was different for they sought different experiences, and with my physical appearance I was very much sought after by these peoples. God knows my weakness for pleasures of the flesh, particularly between members of the same gender, but having congress with another male because he was of another tribe or looked different was not high on my list of reasons for having congress with him. I had not had an opportunity for congress with another male since the boy Huancuyru however, and confronted by such openness regarding sexual contact, and being of weak will, I found it difficult to resist such blatant invitations. Besides, it had been an arduous climb and I felt I had earned a night of debauchery.

So I joined a group of four young men in their late teens and early twenties, two of them single and one married with his wife pregnant with their first child, and one married with a young daughter and a young son. I had been playing my panpipe in the market square in the hopes of a room and a morning meal when I was invited to join them. We began nibbling on tortillas dipped in a sauce of hot red peppers and drinking chicha, a mild corn beer, and talking about music. One of them opened his pouch and passed around coca leaves, whose visionary effects I had already experienced, to chew. Another took out a couple large, sweet, cream-coloured roots which we roasted and ate. I knew from my training with the Tenochca that this was a delicacy called maca, called ayak chichica by these people, a plant commonly found here in the high mountains and whose root comes in various colours and strengths of potency.

It was not long before all five of us were erect and feeling the effects of the plants we had consumed. My penis was so swollen it felt like it was going to split its skin and the rim itched so badly it was as if I had waded through a patch of poison ivy. My entire body was tense and razor-edged with alertness and I was so desirous of cock my mouth watered for the taste of it and my rectum ached to be filled by it. From the looks in the eyes of the others, they were all feeling the same. Approached by one of the single men, I dropped to my knees and elbows in submission. He was carrying a bladder from a wild pig and the older of the two married men had a jug. They poured some of the contents of the jug, a milky solution, into the bladder, and then inserting the narrow end of the bladder into my anus, they squirted the contents up my rectum. The young man then knelt behind me and placing the tip of his erect member against my anus, he gripped my hips and thrust forward, driving his rigid cock up my rectum. The younger of the two married men stepped in front of me and I eagerly took his cock in my mouth.

The other single man dropped to his knees and elbows beside me and again the bladder was filled and the contents squirted up his rectum and then the other married man mounted him. By this time the man behind me was eagerly thrusting his hips to and fro, driving his swollen cock in and out of my anus, and I was hungrily sucking the cock of the man standing before me. I do not ever remember having such a desperate hunger and I sucked deeply on the man's thick cock and worked my lips up and down the shaft, desperate for his seed. At the same time I clenched my anus and relaxed it in time with the thrusts of the man behind me, eager to feel his seed filling my rectum. My own cock was aching to be touched and my stones ached to release their seed. Everything seemed to be magnified in intensity, my breathing, the smell and taste of cock, the panting of the other four men. I tottered dizzily on my knees and elbows and the two men became blurs and the surrounding jungle began to spin.

And then the men were erupting, the married man with the pregnant wife filling my mouth with his thick, delicious, creamy seed and the single young man behind me filling my rectum with his hot, thick juice. Their loads were thick and copious and I swallowed desperately and eagerly, drinking down the cream of the young married man as squirt after squirt filled my rectum. And then I and the other young man who had assumed the same position as I had were lying on our sides and going down on each other, eagerly sucking on each other's swollen cock as the two married men snuggled behind us and stuffed our slime-filled rectums with their still swollen cocks. My cockhead burned with pleasure and my swollen cock throbbed in time with my heartbeat as the pressure doubled and doubled again until I was blasting out my seed, throbbing endlessly as spurt after spurt was swallowed down by the youth as he too began to spurt and I drank his thick, creamy load. I had the impression that our seed was cycling through each other, his flowing down my throat to my balls where it was pumped into his mouth and mine flowing down his throat to his balls to be consumed again by me.

I remember little else of that evening other than that I was mounted by all four men and I mounted or was sucked by the four of them. There was an endless flow of our cream and our swollen cocks throbbed and ached with an intense pleasure. The men faded in and out of my sight and my mind, becoming large, shapeless blobs and multicoloured semen and I consumed not just their seed but their genitals and their bodies, and when they filled my rectum with their seed their cocks flowed into my rectum, followed by their stones and their boneless bodies so we became one throbbing puddle. At one point I imagined I was being fucked by a man with a dog's head, and at another time instead of a man I was fucking a large, green-reptile, a man-sized creature identical to the smaller lizards abundant in this country, but it all seemed like a perfectly natural thing to be doing. (2)

Assured the great capital of Tahuantinsuyu was only another ten days away, I continued on my way. Now the pathway was well worn with use and the ayllu closer together and more prosperous-looking. The feat of building and maintaining this high mountain pathway zigzagging up and down the oft times snow-capped peaks with steps cut into the mountainside or built up with stones, and with rope bridges spanning canyons hundreds of feet deep were impressive and was evidence of the might of this great empire which could employ men to do such work over such a great distance. Now every quarter of a league there were two huts, each with four to six youth, those in one hut watching the trail in one direction and those in the other hut watching the trail in the other direction. These were the chasqui, the messengers or runners. When they spotted a runner approaching, they would go out to meet him and as they ran toward the hut the one approaching would recite his message and the one meeting him would repeat it to ensure he had it exact and he would then head along the trail to the next hut where the message would be passed on. Running in relay they could easily cover fifty leagues a day and even up to eighty. Other runners carried great lengths of knotted rope which they used to record information and pass it from place to place.

I at times slept in these huts while one or more of the runners were running at night with some urgent message, relying on the light of the moon to see the path. On one such night, I had a long conversation with eight of the young men manning the two stations when two runners arrived, one from each direction. One of the country's main festivals was in a few days and messages between the nobles spread out across the empire and messages between chiefs who had travelled to their capital city for the festivities and their subordinates left back at home to run things were more frequent than usual. One of the young men was particularly excited for he had never been to the capital before and expected to be there this year in time for the festival.

He was tall and lanky with strong, muscular legs and was a year younger than myself. He had been a runner now for three years. Having just arrived at the station, he would not be expected to run again until that morning, even with the increased number of messages, but he was much too excited to sleep. Curious about his life as a runner, and his knowledge about this powerful empire, I slipped outside with him and we wandered away from the station so we could talk and the others could sleep. He was as curious about me and my evidently different culture and we talked long into the night and ultimately had sex with each other. He professed to be a lover of women, and said as a runner he generally abstained from sex altogether while running the trails as it robbed him of much needed energy. However he was not averse to sex with those of his own gender and particularly close to his own age, and he confessed curiosity regarding myself. And so, in a little alcove protected from the wind, just below the summit of the peak upon which the relay station was perched, we gave in to our desires.

He said it was customary for priests and high-ranking nobles to have ritualistic sex on top of the highest mountains, symbolically reenacting the creation of their race and the copulation of the sky gods, to which I replied that one could not do wrong copying the gods and he laughed. We stripped then and embraced and caressed each other there in the night, the light of the moon reflecting off our bodies and off the snow-capped peaks all around us, the stars particularly sharp in the crisp air. It was cool, but our bodies were hot and growing hotter and I must admit that the idea of having congress with this muscular, athletic youth surrounded by majestic peaks and a diamond-studded sky was erotic. He was almost a hand taller than I and although my arduous journey across this land had hardened me, his body was trimmer and harder yet. Caressing and being caressed by this athletic and experienced young savage was very different from my experiences with those much younger than myself, and much better than the drug-induced orgies I have engaged in.

He took me first, in that traditional position, me on my knees and elbows and him behind me, using only our spittle for lubricant. His cock was almost as long as mine and narrow and feeling it penetrate me and sink up my rectum was delightful. As he began to pump his cock in and out of my body I inhaled deeply and focussed on the pleasure pulsating about my anus and the burning of my anal opening. He fucked slowly and I imagined the sky gods looking down upon us approvingly and becoming aroused themselves. When he at last came and filled my rectum with his seed I quivered with delight.

And then I fucked him there on that ledge looking down at the two messenger huts and the twisting trail between the mountains, the moon shining down upon us and again I imagined the gods looking down upon us and watching. We gasped and snorted with our exertion and our pleasure as I pumped my cock in and out of his body and I grasped his hips as I thrust forward until my coarse hairs pressed against his smooth, firm buttocks and then withdrew until the knob of my member was about to exit his hot, moist channel. Having congress there in the open on this mountain peak like two wild animals seemed so natural and so right. He shuddered with pleasure as I filled his rectum with my seed, and when at last I was done and withdrew we embraced and kissed and snuggled against each other there beneath the star-studded sky.

When we returned to the station we lay on his cloak and covered ourselves with mine and cuddled together, just as the other runners around us snuggled together for warmth and comfort, and I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. I ran with him the next morning as he carried a message to the south, and although I thought I was in peak physical condition, I could not keep up with him and he raced on ahead, calling back that perhaps we would meet again at Cuzco. I hoped that we would. Men married each other in this strange land, and I could comfortably be married to him. As I watched him disappear around a bend in the trail, I realized I did not know his name.

A couple days later, the day after the summer solstice according to my calculations, and the second day of the new moon before it reappeared in the sky, I topped a ridge and looked down at the great capital of Cuzco. It was a breathtaking sight. Wedged between two rivers and built over a third, it spread the length of the valley between two great ridges and was entered by four great roads, one from each of the four compass directions. Tall palaces and great temples built of stone blocks rose up in the centre of the city, surrounded by the mansions of the nobility and an outer ring of cultivated terraces presently freshly turned and ready for the planting of new shoots. Camped within and surrounding the city were those who had come from across the Empire to celebrate the Inti Raymi, the Festival of the Sun, which was, I had been told, the largest and most important and most solemn festival of the year. Governors from the various regions across the Empire, retired military leaders and those not on campaigns at the moment, and the great curacas of the many subject tribes now paying tribute to Inti, the Sun and Creator, and his descendant, the great king of this land, the Inca.Wayna Qhapaq, had travelled from all parts of the Empire for the festival. Those too far away to attend or prevented by illness, age or serious business, sent their sons and the most noble members of their people to represent them.

The streets and plazas were crowded with a mixture of people the likes of which I have never before seen, and I am certain never will again in the future. Some chiefs wore plates of silver and gold sewn on their garments and silver and gold wreaths on their heads, enough wealth to purchase my humble estate back home and then some. Others who claimed descent from lions were dressed in lion skins with their head inside the lion's, and others wore the great white and black wings of a huge bird they call a cuntur from which they claimed descent. A group called the Yuncas wore repulsive masks and grimaced and acted as madmen or fools and carried flutes and tambourines. Other tribes carried their special weapons and still other tribes had arrived with their performers with great drums and trumpets, each tribe trying to outdo the next. My own appearance paled in comparison. For the previous three days everyone had fasted consuming only a little white maize, a herb called chúcam, and water, and, of course, abstaining from sex. Now it was time to celebrate and emotions were running high.

Assuming me to be someone of high importance from my appearance, and, I learned later, especially because of the silver horse clasp in the centre of my headband, I was directed to what served as an inn for travellers in this land and where despite the lateness of my arrival, I was shown to a room, small and simply furnished but private, one of several that had been set aside for late, high-ranking dignitaries. That night the priests readied the offerings of food and drink to be presented to the sun and prepared the sheep and lambs to be sacrificed. The women of the Sun, a group of virgins whose lives were dedicated to the worship of the sun, prepared çancu, little round loaves of maize the size of apples especially prepared for this festival, and the rest of the food for the feast.

Fresh young knights, the sons and grandsons of the nobility who between the ages of twelve and fifteen had reached puberty and become knights the previous December, had continued their fasting and continence these past six months and had this past week been engaged in packing the heavy sacks of grain and tribute to the storage houses in Cuzco. These past two days they had turned the soil on the terraces in preparation for the planting of new shoots. Now, their downy-cheeked faces smeared with sacrificial blood from their ears and genitals mixed with a maize paste, they patrolled the city streets in pairs and small groups to ensure the city's guests were unmolested and strutted proudly upon the appearance of any eligible maiden, spirits high in anticipation of the morrow.

At dawn their Emperor, whom they call the Inca, an impressive looking man dressed all in black, and his royal family, left his palace according to age and rank and entered the main square of the city, called Haucaipata, and stood barefoot facing east and as the Sun rose he and his family squatted and placing their hands beside their faces kissed the air. The curacas, who were not of royal blood and with whom I was standing, did likewise in the adjoining square, called Cussipata. The Inca then stood and took two large golden vessels and invited the Sun to drink from the vessel in his right hand, pouring it into a gold basin from which ran a channel to the House of the Sun. He drank from the vessel in his left hand and then as his family stepped forward poured the contents into a small silver or gold bowl held by each of the other Incas, the larger vessel being refilled at intervals. The curacas in the other square also drank of this brew prepared by the Women of the Sun.

The Incas then approached the House of the Sun, removing their sandals 200 steps away except for the Inca who removed his at the door, and they went inside. The curacas stayed in the square outside the temple gate. The priests then came outside and collected the vessels of the curacas and models of gold and silver of whatever animals were abundant in their kingdoms, starting with those who had been incorporated into the Empire the earliest and so of the highest rank to those most recently conquered. Everyone attending was expected to make some offering and I had brought with me a small black panther with emerald eyes which I had purchased some time ago with the intention of gifting my liege with it but having since then come to the conclusion I would never see him again. It was a small item, for I could only carry so much, but it had been exquisitely crafted and I hated parting with it.

The royal members and the assembled guests then returned to their two original squares. As the Inca sat on his gold throne set up on a large, gold platform, the priests brought out a black lamb. With its head facing east and four men holding the legs, one of the priests cut open its left side and reaching inside withdrew its heart, lungs and entrails. The lungs were still quivering and a murmur of approval passed through the two squares for this was a good omen. The priest blew air into lungs and again there was a murmur of approval for the tiny vessels lining the lungs quickly inflated. The heart and entrails were examined and it was pronounced they indicated a favourable year ahead, to the relief of the crowd which I only then realized had been holding its breath, as had I!

After the augury, other lambs, rams, and ewes were lead out and these sacrificed by having their throats cut, after which they were flayed and their blood and hearts were offered to the Sun. A sacrificial fire was started using a bracelet worn on the left wrist of the head priest. This bracelet had a highly burnished concave bowl which the priest used to focus the sun's rays on a finely carded wool to start the fire. The meat from the sacrificial animals was cooked on this fire, which would later be carried to the Temple of the Sun and the House of Virgins where it would be kept burning all year until the repetition of this ceremony the next June solstice. Meat from the sacrificial animals was distributed by rank to all in the two squares along with the çancu.

The Inca then stood and holding up two cups, invited the members of his family to drink to the sun. Every Inca carries two identical drinking cups either of wood, silver or gold depending on his position, and when offering a drink offers the left to someone of lower rank and the right to someone of equal or higher rank. Being of equal size, they are considered equal in what was drunk. Extended from a superior to an inferior it was a token of regard and favour, and the inferior offered a drink to his superior to show his vassalage. After drinking with the most senior member of his family, the vessel was retrieved, refilled, and the Inca's next relative in order of importance stepped forward. While this was occurring, the Inca sent those relatives who had drunk with him to bid everyone else in attendance to drink. All captains of the Inca's vast army were invited to enter the first square to drink directly with the Inca, followed by the most prominent curacas according to their importance and power. Those curacas of the neighbourhood of Cuzco had been the first to be subjected and were treated as next in importance to those of Inca blood.

One of the younger members of the royal family approached the chief beside me and announced, "The Sapa Inca has bidden you to be invited to drink, and I have come in his name to drink with you." He then offered the cup in his left hand to the chief who drank the contents and then made a gesture of adoration and kissed the air. He then returned the favour, offering the young man a drink from the cup in his right hand. Being invited to drink by a relative of the Inca was considered a great honour. The young man then turned to me, and said, "The Sapa Inca has bidden you be invited to drink, and I have come to take you to him." Having expected the same speech as had been given the man preceding me, I was much surprised and I followed him and joined the line of others being similarly honoured, wondering why I had been so selected. As I stepped up to the Inca, he studied me with intent eyes, clearly accustomed to sizing up a man in those few introductory moments.

Although I had been surprised to have been summoned to be in his presence, I have dealt often enough with men of power not to be cowed, but knowing also one was expected to show due deference. I met his gaze for a moment, and then respectfully lowered my eyes. After drinking heartily from his cup, I raised my two and an attendant filled them and I offered him the one in my right. The Inca could not possibly accept every offer and still be standing after this ceremony was over, so he had a choice of simply putting his mouth to the proffered cup, taking a sip, the deeper the sip the greater his favour and the person's merit, or inviting a servant to drink the offered cup on his behalf. Cups touched by the Inca were venerated and displayed with great esteem and worshipped as an idol for years following. To my surprise he took a long draught of my cup and when he returned it there was a knowing sparkle in his eyes and a curl of his lips that told me we would be meeting again. As I left with a respectful bow, I felt greatly honoured and humbled and I understood the great love and veneration these subjects had for this king.

Following this official invitation, singers and dancers of the tribes performed in the two squares and the Inca invited generals and high-ranking curacas to drink with him and other members of his family and other curacas did likewise according to personal friendships and the proximity of their lands. To my surprise and bewilderment I found myself being invited to drink with several of the visiting chiefs. After a few such invites, the reason became clear. Those who had not been invited to join the Inca were eager to make my acquaintance for I was by that invitation by the Inca a person of importance and by becoming an acquaintance of mine they hoped to raise their own positions. Those who had also been invited to join the Inca did not know me and were curious, either also desiring my friendship if it would further their position with the Inca, or wishing to find out more about me in case I was going to become a rival for the Inca's favour. I was quickly reminded of the politics and intrigue I had encountered at the Vatican, and of the circle of toadies and sycophants surrounding King Joáo and that I had seen at the court of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.

And so I spent the rest of the day being courted and evaluated by the Kingdom's leaders and by several of the lower-ranking nobility themselves who on their own, or upon request of the Inca, tried to find out more about me. It was then that I discovered why I had been given deferential treatment at the inn, and why I had been singled out to drink with the Inca. One of the distinguishing insignia of the nobility was the silver disc they all wore on their headbands over their foreheads. It had been assumed that the silver horse clasp in my headband had a similar significance among my people, marking me as a member of the nobility. The cross being a symbol of fertility, I was also suspected of being a priest of a fertility god from the Cross of Saint Christopher, my gift from Uncle Paolo hanging about my neck and which I never went without. The tattooed semicircles beneath my eyes and the finely crafted donation I had presented had further drawn the Inca's attention to me as being someone different and someone to know.

It being to my advantage, I played up my differences and added to the mystery of my origins and the power of the tribe I had come from. I must confess my consumption of their ceremonial beer loosened my tongue more than it should have. As God would have it, my loose tongue turned out to be of great advantage. Impressed, and wishing favour from the Inca, over the following days and weeks they showered me with little gifts, each trying to top the others. They were small items in that it was expected I would take them back to show the leaders I was representing the generosity and well-wishes of the people I had met, finely wrought necklaces, nose and ear plugs, hair combs and the like, of gold and silver, items treasured for their beauty rather than their wealth for these people.

As I feasted and drank and circulated, I was very much aware of the interest of the female population in me. I was still young by their standards, and I was not physically unattractive, and I was a man of above average importance, all good reasons for those in power wishing to gain my favour to gift me with a young maiden for the night. Besides that, these people, like most of the natives I have encountered, are licentious to the extreme, even more so than the French and the Greeks. When they reach puberty, between the ages of eleven and fourteen, the girls engage in a ceremony similar to that performed by the young nights in December after which they are free to marry. Unlike civilized, Christian peoples, these savages place no value on virginity, and indeed, they view the unchaste, except for the Virgins of the Sun, as more respectable and more desirable and so their maidens wantonly offer themselves to any who will have them. Inti Raymi being an occasion for celebration, young, unattached maidens were particularly aggressive. (3)

Of course I was much more interested in the young knights, who, now being men, and for this celebration no longer bound by their vows of sobriety and chastity, were as eager and as willing to engage in sex as were those of the opposite gender. Singing and flaunting their youth and virility, they wandered about the two squares and the surrounding streets, strutting like peacocks and effusing with masculine sexuality. Of course most were interested in those of the opposite sex, and in that their advances were eagerly welcomed, everyone seemed to be effused with lust. There were those who for whatever reason preferred the company of those of their own gender, and those such as myself who preferred willing, young boys easily spotted those boys, just as those boys had an innate ability to discern those men whose preference was the same as mine.

I spotted several such young men throughout the evening, weaving in and out of the crowds, unfortunately too distant for me to detach myself from the company I was with and approach them. These boys all had a similarity which made them recognizable as a group but unrecognizable as individuals, their faces and features all seeming the same, but I gradually realized that there was one boy who kept returning and who seemed to be watching me. Finally the timing was right and I was able to detach myself from the company I was with and join him. I offered him a drink, which he readily accepted, and he inturn offered me one from his right cup. A seller of sweet honey and nut cakes came by and I bought one for each of us.

As I watched him bite into the cake, my member stirred in my breechclout, and when our eyes met it hastened its transformation. I could tell in his eyes that he knew I was aroused, and I could tell from the flush of his downy cheeks so was he. He was dressed in the special short tunic of new knights that came to mid-thigh instead of his knees, revealing his smooth slender legs, and he wore feathers stuck in his headband with a paicha, a tassel of yellow and scarlet over his right temple, symbols of his royal blood. His chest was hung with medals for his physical achievements from his recent training and slung over his shoulder was his pouch containing his personal possessions. I learned he had recently turned fourteen.

We talked about the splendidness of the day and the blessing of Inti and commented on the dancers and entertainers trying to outdo each other and of the crowds who had gathered for the celebration, everything except what was on our minds. I observed that I had come from a great distance and was unfamiliar with many of the customs of this land and I asked about his recent training and he proudly described his life these past six months and of the ordeals that he and his age mates had endured, and he showed me each of the medals on his chest and proudly explained the feat he had to achieve to earn each one, feats in strength, endurance, bravery and leadership, and I had to admire the training that these people put their youth through. He observed that he had never seen anyone quite like myself and I tried to explain what my homeland was like, but it was difficult when Portugal had so little in common with this country, and my lust was so strong I found it difficult to concentrate on something so unrelated to what my mind and body desired.

Fortunately he was feeling the same way and we left the crowds and climbed up above the city to where the path forked and we took the fork that climbed still higher to a ledge where we could sit on a slab of rock and look down at the city and I was suddenly reminded of the vision I had long ago with the Taino and of men sacrificing men and being ridden by a naked young boy who looked very much like this one and for a moment I wondered what tricks the gods were playing on me but the moment quickly passed as my lust was too strong for my mind to linger on such lofty thoughts.

We stripped and he was fascinated by my tattoos and listened in wonder and admiration as I explained why I was so marked and how it had been done. I in turn asked what the future held for him now that he was a man and he said his father was a governor to the north along the eastern edge of the empire and that he would be trained in the laws of the land and would in time follow in the footsteps of his father. And then we taught each other what we knew about congress between men and boys. He confessed to having experience mostly with boys only a few years older than himself but desiring older men. We tongue-kissed and caressed each other, and he dropped to his knees and kissed and licked my stones and my swollen member. He followed my lead, and when I suggested that he mount me, he was delighted, having expected the reverse.

I lubed my anus and greased his stiff, slender cock, the length being just slightly more than the width of my palm and the flesh as rigid as my sword, and then I lay on my back and had him mount me face to face, a position that was new to him. I delighted in having this fourteen-year-old boy penetrate me, and in watching the concentration, the joy, and the sense of pride and achievement as he penetrated me and then began to fuck me. The glistening in his eyes, the smile curling his smooth lips, and the flush of his cheeks were all as enjoyable as feeling his slender cock pumping in and out of my anus and knowing the pleasure he was feeling was still something new and exciting.

He was a man and doing what a man does, and that it was with another man was immaterial. I do not know if it was his youthful exuberance or the sex-saturated atmosphere of the city, but my mind and my body ached with desire for this handsome, muscular, prurient young knight. I could feel his slender cock throbbing inside my body and I arched my back and inhaled deeply, his sweaty, smoky essence filling my lungs. And so it was that I was penetrated and fucked by this young son of Inca nobility and I found it so enjoyable that when at last he spurted his seed up my rectum I spurted also, spraying his fourteen-year-old body and mine with my hot, thick seed.

As he withdrew his cock he glanced down at it, stiff and glistening in the moonlight with my slime and his seed, and then at me, and his lips curled with satisfaction and pride and I smiled back at him, my own cock still stiff and a pendant of my juice hanging from the tip. He was five years my junior but he carried himself with air of authority and confidence of one twice his age, sure of his power and right as an Inca, as a descendant of the sun, and sure of his masculinity. When sometime later he reached over and placed his hand on my thigh and looked up into my eyes, I knew he wanted to mount me again, and he knew I was eager for him to do so.