Loading...Dr. Kessa Brammer led him through a creaking metal door into the last storage room in the antiquities department. He stepped past her at her direction, looking around the chamber with slight un-ease. He was perhaps her brightest student, which was part of why she liked him. She pushed her weight against the metal door, which creaked closed, and latched with an echoing click.
She smoothed her tastefully short skirt, and moved to join her student where he stood. Her long legs moved effortlessly in the heels she always wore when she gave tours of the museum’s collection.
“What do you see, Donavan?” she asked in her cool even tone. She had learned from experience how to prompt her students to discover answers. She found, particularly with male students, that a little flirting could go a long way! Admittedly, alone with this fine specimen of a young man, she was laying it on a bit thick. The young man raised his eyebrows, and composed himself, and turned his eyes toward the artifact in the center of the room. He started to speak, closed his mouth for a moment, and began again.
“Inca, early agrarian, ritualistic object…”
“Very good, go on?”
The object stood in the middle of the bare concrete chamber. A lone skylight high above cast a shadowy back-light over the bare stone.
“Three feet tall, carved stone, unusual stylized form.”
He walked up close and observed the object. It had a curved arch across its top, and a bowl carved out at one end, one end of the bowl seemed to have a smooth depression at its lip, facing away from the stone’s top. It was almost like the pouring spout of a pitcher.
“Looks like an altar of some sort” he said, feeling satisfied with his conclusion.
“You might say that… go on..” she prompted him further.
An altar, yes. He was sure of that. The Incas worshiped nature and the seasons, being some of the first agricultural people. He knew from his readings that they especially celebrated rights of fertility and rituals of the growing season.
He knelt and inspected the top of the stone further. Its surface was warn smooth, as if it had been rubbed smooth by human touch over a millennium.
“Is it a fountain of some sort?” he asked, making a guess as to the peculiar bowl.
“So to speak, Donavan.” She raised one eyebrow, and couldn’t help but smile at his guess. “I’ll give you a clue: Think of a saddle…”
She let the nonchalance of her voice trail off into the echoing room.
She smiled to herself from the corner of her mouth, as he turned his full attention back to the stone object. So engrossed was he in his inspection that he didn’t notice her hands reaching up the back of her shirt to unsnap the clasp of her bra. He was still oblivious when she sighed, feeling the weight of her breasts released beneath the silk of her white blouse.
“Interesting” he said, inspecting the stone base of the artifact. “With these markings around the bottom -these grooves – it would suggest that… that the legs were…were..”
“Tied, Donavan. Young men were tied into this saddle. It is called an Oblerogosta, or ‘the fertile earth’. Any idea why?” She was looking at him cooly from the tops of her unblinking eyes. She took three measured steps to his side, and helped him to stand up next to the saddle.
“Um…” he stammered “Fertility… fertility ritual, I imagine…” He stopped short as Kessa crossed her arms across her chest, and in one smooth motion, lifted her shirt off over her head. Her bra tumbled to the floor between them, and her breasts jostled to rest on her chest. She knew she had gorgeous breasts. Her Brazilian heritage dated back to the time of the Incas. Her nipples stood like amber peaks on perfect raised circles, surrounded by the full bronze smoothness of her chest.
“Breasts” she began, “are the feminine symbol of fertility. A man can gauge a woman’s fertility by the qualities of her breasts. A woman’s breasts nurture his young, they provide for his family. That is your second clue.”
“So, this..” he gulped again, trying to maintain composure, trying to hold eye contact with her, his eyes involuntarily moving down to her chest and lingering there.
“The Fertile Earth is a male fertility ritual, practiced at the equinox.” Her hands reached out and deftly unbuckled his belt. Her nimble fingers unbuttoned his slacks, and let down the thin zipper.
“Kessa! I…we… we should go back to the class…”
“They’re in film about the history of ancient agriculture. It lasts another hour. I just thought this was a perfect time to enrich your understanding of the Incas …Donavan?”
“Um… yes, well, I…” She gave a little tug, and his slacks fell to the floor over his shoes.
“I want you to sit on the Oblerogosta, Donavan. Can you do that for me? This is the best way to truly understand this important ritual.”
Not wanting to disappoint his favorite teacher, he hastily stepped out of his slacks, kicking off his shoes.
“Your shirt too, Donavan” she murmured, unbuttoning his collar. She slipped it off of his strong shoulders. She could feel his well developed musculature beneath her fingers as she slid the shirt up and off his arms. He was 21, prime for the ritual, prime and fertile…
Looking a little uncertain, the young man stood next to the stone saddle. He eyed it, this time with an err of dismay.
“Your boxer shorts now too, please. The saddle must be mounted in the nude.” she said, regaining her flat even tone. She brushed her dark long hair back behind her bare shoulders, unclasped her skirt, and let it fall to the concrete. The only light in the room shone in a spot through a round skylight high overhead. The indirect tones of light shone up and reflected off of her smooth skin, giving her an almost otherworldly look. She stared intently as he slipped the elastic of his boxers down and off of him. His genitals hung solid and heavy. His penis was perked, involuntarily stiffening into an erection.
“The Incas would select the strongest, most coveted, most fertile of their young men, and would place them into saddles just like this one. ” she stepped close, moving behind him. She let her hand rest on his bare buttocks, and slide down his muscular thigh, encouraging him to lift his leg. Still uncertain, Donavan did as she asked, swinging his leg up and over the saddle, shifting his weight, and bouncing with one foot. He took his mount on the back edge of the saddle, and looked down at her.
“You notice, Donavan, the way the saddle is carved out. It has a bowl at this end. I need you to scoot up a bit.” She took his hands in hers, and and tugged briskly while he scooted forward. She smiled as both his genitals plopped perfectly into the rounded vessel at the front of the saddle.
“You see? That’s better, isn’t it?” She smiled, allowing a little gleeful giggle. “It’s perfect, just perfect!”
Donavan hardly knew what to think, but had to admit to himself that it was arranged pretty well… the saddle seemed to support him very well beneath his buttocks, and the cup at the front seemed to hold his genitals, like eggs in a nest. The smooth groove at the front of the bowl, which he mistook as the pour spout of a pitcher, was perfectly positioned to support the engorged shaft of a man’s penis.
From a tool box near the wall, Kessa pulled a coil of rope.
“This will have to do. They are bringing more authentic articles in here once they are ready to actually set up the exhibit. I’m helping to curate it. It’ll be an entire exhibit dedicated to sexual rituals of the ancient world.”
“Sexual rituals? Dr. Brammer, I think we should probably… ouch!”
Her knee pressed in the middle of his back, she pulled his wrists together, and bound them fast! She then knelt before he had time to think, and had rope loops around his ankles. She then stood and walked around the saddle… once, twice, three times, binding his legs tightly to the stone.
“Donavan, try to move.”
The young man tried to struggle, but succeeded only in thrusting his engorged member to the front of the bowl, where it lay comfortably into the rounded groove. She watched him rock back and forth a bit on the stone, and then stop, looking to her with uncertainty.
“The saddle shape naturally holds you in position. It should feel snug, but not painful.”
She stepped closer, the light shining down her naked curves. “One last detail with your mount.” She pulled a fine silk cord from her purse.
“This is fine South-American silk. Softest of any fibers, yet strong as steel.”
Moving to the front of the saddle, she let her hands stroke over the smooth stone, over the young man’s thighs, and lastly up the length of his stone-hard shaft. She passed the cord under the front lip of the saddle, where it lay in a groove, and then looped it over the top. With two tight knots, the man’s erect penis was tied fast to the stone, seated perfectly in the time-worn groove, its end protruding the last six inches of its length into the air before her.
“Dr. Brammer! Please, I …. I don’t feel comfortable… ”
From a thermos, Kessa poured the thick hot brown liquid. It had the consistency of syrup, but smelled spicy and strong… the liquid dripped like oil from the thermos into the side of the saddle’s vessel.
“Oh!! OH, GOD!!!”
“I’m sorry if it is a little cold, Donavan” she said, the liquid rising around his gonads. He struggled again, only succeeding in dunking his testicles deeper into the rising elixir. “It has to be chilled to work. It is called Thupra, or ‘Mighty Power’.
Kessa stepped back, and watched. The powerful mixture of caffeine and herbs was already working. She watched as the young man experienced the swelling tightness of the most powerful erection of his life! He groaned, feeling the tightening of the tip of his penis… a hard purple mushroom. He tried to move his legs again… She stepped close to the front of the saddle, and with silky smooth fingers, drew the Thupra up from the well and spread it over his genitals, massaging and rolling them. With unblinking calm, she looked into his eyes. He was thoroughly engrossed in her actions. He looked from her eyes to her breasts, to her hands, and back. Over the next ten minutes, his body readied its seed, displacing the brown liquid until the whole of the carved stone cup was filled by his swollen genitals.
“You see, Donavan? Young men were placed in the fields of their ancestors, and were prepared thus so that their seed would fertilize the earth.” He was looking at her naked body, overcome with amorous desire. His breaths were growing faster and more shallow.
“Please! PLEASE! “he moaned “I.. I NEED you… I WANT YOU… I just have to HAVE you… fuck! FUCK!!!’ His enormous nuts jostled, bulging over the rim of the cup, his dick stood out 8 inches, restrained to the stone by the silk cord.
“Now, in order to fertilize their ancestral fields, the young men also required the help of the young women of their village.” She stepped close to him, and knelt before the stone-and-flesh alter of fertility. “The woman performed Kinti-Bilok, or a ritualized form of fellatio. Donavan, may I demonstrate Kinti-Bilok for you?”
“Please!! OH FUCK YES!” He was panting. She knew his mind was in the right place!
“Donavan, the point of this ritual is to help the young warrior release the absolute maximum amount of his seed… this may take a while, despite your… excited state.”
Her smooth hands ran the length of his shaft, felt the wetness at its end. A little drop of slippery transparent liquid. She held the shaft in her hands, and moved her body.
“The breasts are life” she said, pressing the purple head into her nipples, one after another, a little string of his lubrication connecting them for a moment. “They are the cradle and the nourishment for your children…” she went on. She moved closer, and hugged her chest. Her breasts bulged up and around his cock, tight and full.
“Oh…Kessa…Kess…..” he was sighing, looking down into her upturned face. Her eyes stayed fixed on his. The slippery liquid from the tip of his penis spread easily over the smooth skin of her breasts as she moved up and down. She smiled again, amused at the situation. (There was no way he could have guessed he’d spend the field trip titty-fucking his teacher, whom she knew he lusted after.)
“And just as the child suckles the mother, so does the mother suckle the man.” Her eyes never left his, but he watched her lips purse as if to kiss. Her lips kissed the head of his cock, and then pressed…. and he felt himself drawn sweetly into her mouth, and then she pulled back again.
“And just as the she draws his fertile seed, so too shall the earth be laid open and rendered new by his plow…”
Kessa opened her mouth, her long pink tongue extending, licking the length of his restrained penis. This was one unexpected use for her college education! Her masters program, particularly, had encouraged her to hone the fundamentals of cock-sucking. It hadn’t been enough to receive study hard. In order to thrive in the high-pressure academic environment, and to receive the prestigious appointment to director of antiquities, she had inadvertently perfected the art! There was something so thoroughly transcendent and awesome about man’s penis. It held the power direct a man’s future, as well as hers. A penis was a powerful living symbol… particularly close up… particularly when it was tied down by a silk cord and prodding the back of her deep hot throat!
In the half darkness of the cave like room, a young man sat, tied to a stone saddle, his arms behind his back. Before him, the head of a shadowy naked woman moved up and down, bobbing over and over and over and OVER….
“Oh, please! Dr… Dr… KESSA…..”
His words echoed, his sound dying back to only the slurping sound of the woman’s lips and tongue as they slip relentlessly up and down the full length of his cock.
“Oh FUCK!!” His bindings creaked with tension, as his muscles struggled their last against his bonds. The muscles in his shoulders and chest tensed like stones…
Kess stepped back, allowing him to cool for a moment. He was near, very near, and she could keep him there! She looked into his eyes, and then her head moved down again…
He remembered back to the first time his sister’s friend Tasha had gone down on him. He recalled the poignant pleasure he had experienced, watching his semen erupt in her mouth, dripping from her smiling lips. He desperately wanted this, looking at Kess’s beautiful features, her smooth naked body… it was just that, every time he felt himself swelling to the point of no return, she sat back. The cool liquid would then both calm and engorge him further. This endless cycle seemed to go on forever!
Finally, there was no way to prevent it, to hold back. The bulging veins of his manhood had swollen to their fullest extent, and finally the silk cord snapped and drifted silently to the floor. The silence suddenly became the sound of crashing ocean waves as erotic fire consumed him! The fiery heat of the thousand year old ritual was the immediate fire burning in his loins… the young man gasped, his head turned to the sky, the milk of his lust suddenly bursting forth, a turbulent torrent pumping like so many jets from a trembling waterfall! He exhaled and heard himself calling out loud to the forces of nature. It was as if all the orgasms he had ever enjoyed were wrapped into one endless torrent… He felt the slippery heat of her mouth still around him, and groaned. (She was going to be there, sucking him to the last!)
“OhhhhhhHHHHH YESSSSS…..!!!”
When at last the young man’s gaze turned down from the heavens above, his eyes connected with those of Kessa. She let the slippery wet tip of his penis slip from her lips. A single string of semen trailing from her smile to its tip. She swallowed again, and again, and AGAIN. Finally spoke to him, this time softly, as if confiding her dirty secret:
“Ordinarily, for this ritual, the young man’s seed is spilled across the earth of his father’s fields…”
She stood up and looked at his beautiful musculature, now restrained and yielding. He stared at her, his eyes big and brown, like an obedient puppy dog.
“…I’m a cum-thirsty whore, though. That’s why I swallowed every drop!”
Kess leaned down to pick up her bra, and stood, strapping it over her breasts.
“You did well, Donavan.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, “Very well.”
She cut the ropes with a knife she pulled from her purse. He instantly leaned forward and cradling his genitals in his hands. They felt heavy and cool, and a little sore. The tension was gone, though, and he let out a deep powerful sigh.
“You’ll do even better next time.”