Fist of Gold

I watched them go into the tent and one of them light a lantern and illuminate the interior of the tent, making it a form of shadow play as their figures moved about the tight space, both of them having to bend over for head clearance.

"Where did you get the gold object?" I asked. I thought it would be unprofessional to refer to it as a dildo, although that quite obviously was what it was.

"Where do you suppose? Right here, where we're digging. This could be from the golden trove of the Mali Empire." He had put his arm around me, and a hand went to my thigh. I looked over at the Frenchman, and he was watching us. "I wanted to share this discovery with you, Kyle," he said, and then he brought my head in for a kiss.

Tolbert had his eyes on us but didn't flinch. Of course he would have been told what Bentham and I had been to each other.

I opened my lips to him. I wouldn't deny Geoffrey anything he wanted of me. He was my mentor, my first serious lover. A man with a cock that filled me to near bursting. A man who knew how to use his fist.

"I've missed you, Geoffrey," I whispered when he'd released my lips and I'd immediately kissed him back to signal total submission. He moved his hand to my basket. I was happy to be able to show him that I was hard for him.

"How is it with Miranda?" he asked gently.

"Oh, you know Miranda. It's much like always. Affectionate in public. Beyond that, you'd have to ask Veronica."

"She's still with Veronica?"

"Yes," I answered. I didn't have to guard my voice from bitterness. I was glad Miranda had someone and mostly left me alone.

"And you, Kyle. Who are you with?"

"I'm with you at the moment," I said.

"I meant back in England. Have you not found someone else? Someone who takes care of your needs?"

"No one measures up to you, Geoffrey," I answered, knowing he would know what I meant as well as I did.

"It pains me to hear you say that, Kyle."

"I'm sorry. What do you mean by that?"

"I'm old and I'm sick, Kyle. I couldn't get it up anymore no matter what drug I took. I was hoping that you had found someone who satisfied you. I didn't want you coming down here thinking that that was why I sent for you."

A man that satisfied me? I was satisfied last night. But that was just a transient Italian. Neither one of us talked about anything that wasn't fleeting and casual. And damn right I'd come down here expecting more—what I'd gotten before—from Geoffrey Bentham. Why else would I come to a place like Mali?

"I asked you to come down so that you could be in on this find with me—so that you could benefit from it. It's all I can leave you Kyle. But I invited Perrin down too. I think you'll enjoy him."

I looked over at the Frenchman. He indeed was a hunk. Maybe thirty-five. Old enough to control and teach me a move or two. But I had looked at his hands earlier in the evening. I always look at the hands of a man who attracted me. The two Mandinka tribesmen, Tejon and Modibo had elongated, slim hands, in keeping with the elongated nature of the rest of their bodies that I had viewed. The Frenchman's hands were broad, at least four, maybe more, inches across at the knuckles. I could never . . .

But then, at Geoffrey's signal, Tolbert was bringing his chair over close to mine, on the other side from Geoffrey. Also at this point, I realized that there was something going on in Tejon's tent. The two figures, made quite clear in silhouette by the lantern light, were standing close together. They just now were pulling the last of the billowy cloth off each other's bodies. They looked like stick figures, even though I knew they both were well muscled. They seemed to be moving to the rhythm of the drums and chanting of the other tribesmen in the other circle too, and I realized that the tent would be as much a shadowbox from the other side as from this one.

The two came together in an embrace and a kiss and then Modibo's body—identifiable because he was shorter—arched back and Tejon went down on his knees, while supporting Modibo's body in standing with an arm around the young native's waist. It was clear that Tejon was giving Modibo head and helping him to remain steady even though arched back, his palms on the dirt floor behind him.

It was equally clear that Perrin Tolbert, bent over my lap, had unbuttoned me, taken my cock out, and was giving me head. Geoffrey had an arm around me and was unbuttoning and releasing my shirt with the other hand. He sucked on my nipples while Tolbert sucked on my cock.

Was this some sort of double ritual, I wondered. But I was too taken up with it to wonder much.

Geoffrey leaned down and pulled my shorts and briefs off my legs.

Modibo was on his back on a cot and for the briefest moment I saw the shadow of a monster cock in length standing straight up from his groin. And standing over him, stroking an even larger one, was the shadow of Tejon.

Geoffrey and Perrin manipulated my body to where my crotch was lying across Geoffrey's lap and my head was in Perrin's lap, where he was offering me a quite large cock to suck. I managed to turn it, though, to where I could watch the shadow scene in the tent.

Tejon wasn't fucking Modibo—at least not yet. Modibo's left leg was on Tejon's right shoulder and his right leg was bent. His pelvis was raised off the leverage of his right foot, and Tejon's left arm was extended down to Modibo's pelvis. He was fist fucking Modibo. The music from the other circle was becoming more frenetic.

I could feel Geoffrey's fingers at my ass entry. They were heavily greased. He was working his hand into my ass.

I cried out as his knuckles breached my rim. My cry was accompanied by one in the tent, where Tejon must have gained his own entry. I panted hard and sucked hard on Tolbert's cock as Geoffrey started to move his hand inside my ass. Expand, release. Expand, release. Working me almost as expertly as the Italian had.

Then I saw in the tent that Modibo was holding up an object in his right hand. It was the Fist of Gold Geoffrey had shown me earlier. His left hand came out of Modibo's ass, and the right arm went down. I watched the gold fist enter Modibo and the young native writhe, crying out as it rhythmically fucked him. I writhed and cried out as Geoffrey fist rhythmically fucked me too. Expand, release.

Modibo and I came nearly simultaneously and the music in the tribal circle beyond stopped abruptly and Geoffrey withdrew his hand. The light went out in the tent. I saw no more, as Tolbert rose from his chair, pulled me up, threw me over his shoulder, and marched me to my tent.

In my tent, Tolbert threw me down on my back on my cot, slapped my legs apart, and came down between them. He thrust his huge cock into my ass, reached up to grab my wrists and force my arms over my head, latched his lips on mine, and banged me hard into heaven and the next day.

* * * *

"Are you all right?" Geoffrey was looking at me over his glasses the next morning as we ate at a table by the fire pit, the embers of which still glowed red under the gray ash. "I hope that last night wasn't too—"

"I only wish that it had been just you and me. It was OK because you put me in the mood before Tolbert fucked me."

"I've done what I can by you, Kyle," Geoffrey said. "I can't help it if there's not much I can do anymore. I'm afraid not being able to get, let alone sustain, an erection has completely stifled my libido. I can only approach feeling sexual pleasure in watching others now. I did obtain pleasure from watching Perrin fucking you last night."

"I was happy to please," I said, taking a big bite of the fried eggs Modibo had cooked up for us.

"You wore poor Perrin out. He is still snoring away in his tent. You certainly pleased him."

"I was more concerned with pleasing you. I wanted to see you get better results from stroking yourself. I was performing with the Frenchmen for you. I'm sorry it didn't happen. You had gotten half hard, I could see, with the little ritual Tejon and Modibo performed in the tent."

"Yes, that almost did it for me. I would like to do it one more time before I die."

"You sound morose about that. Surely you're not dying, are you? I know you don't look well, but—"

"Yes, Kyle. I'm afraid I am dying. I've been given just a few more months. I'm not sure I can hold on even that long."

"Then why this?" I asked after a few moments of silence to process his news. I couldn't get all weepy, though; I knew he wouldn't want that. He was a man of reality and acceptance. "Why spend your last few months here in the Mali Savannah rather than at Oxford, among those who respect and will honor you?"

"I've never felt so alive as in the bush, at an excavation. I want to feel alive right up until I die. I've always felt bad about you, Kyle—about taking advantage of you and using you—and developing that fetish you have. Not being able to come without the fist before penal penetration. I believe if I just hadn't—"

"You liberated me, Geoffrey, and taught me how high into ecstasy I could go." "Penal penetration." I could have laughed if he hadn't just given me such bad news. He always was the scientist. Only when he was in high heat could he drop that veil and be a primeval man. I had been able to do that for him at one time, though. I wished I could do it for him one time more.

"And you did the same for me," he was saying. "I want to leave you with something—something tangible that will support you in life. I hate seeing you controlled as you are by Miranda and her family."

"I didn't exactly get kidnapped into the situation," I said. "I want to have a comfortable life with the means to do as I like. Miranda's leash is a long, loose one as long as I'm not in England, among her circle of friends. She knew what I came here for."

"Still, it's my concern I have to reach peace with, Kyle. That's why I want you here on this dig. It could set you up for life."

"Set me up for life? If there is gold here, what will we get beside recognition? This is Mali's gold."

"Some part of it, yes," Geoffrey responded. "But if my calculations are correct, there will be more than enough for those in Mali who are in the know and for those involved in the dig as well."

"Surely, you're not suggesting—"

"We really need not go into this now," Geoffrey said, interrupting me and changing the subject. "I believe you enjoyed Tejon's show with Modibo last night as well as I did."

"Very much, yes," I answered. "If that hadn't been transpiring when you fisted me, I don't think I could have gone with Perrin Tolbert."

"Why is that?"

"The span of his knuckles. I can't consider a man with a span of over three-and-a-half inches. It's just a matter of self-preservation. Just seeing how broad his hand is dampened my arousal for him."

"Ah, as I said, something I feel responsible for. You require a man with a big cock but a small hand. Difficult to come by."

"Nothing you should worry about, Geoffrey, and not all that difficult. There was an Italian on the plane coming to Bamako . . ."

"And how long had it been before that? And didn't you come here so eagerly because you thought I could give you relief?"

I didn't answer that. I turned to a sudden interest in what was left of my fried eggs.

"What happened in Tejon's tent last night . . ." Geoffrey said, ". . . did you not wish that was you under him, taking his fist and the Fist of Gold and his enormous cock? Do you know he's nearly a foot long and those magic three-and-a-half inches in girth? Think of not just a bulge of that diameter inside you, but the whole length of a cock nearly a foot long filling your passage at that diameter."

"I must remember to tell Modibo that his eggs were delicious," I said, not being able to look at Geoffrey. Yes, of course, I wished that it was me with Tejon the previous night. Watching them while Geoffrey and Perrin worked me over was what set me up for being able to ride the Frenchmen's cock as wildly and for as long as I did.

"I think . . . I think I might have been able to reach an erection and maintain it long enough to have an ejaculation if it had been you under Tejon, Kyle." But then he sighed, murmured an, "Oh well."

"You want to watch Tejon fuck me? You think that may give you enough of an erection to fuck me too?"

"You put it so baldly," Geoffrey said. "We'll just have to see what transpires." Then he changed the subject. "Would you like to see for yourself the prospect of what can be found at our excavation? There's gold just below the surface. It's like it works its way up to us as we dig down to us. It wants to bask in the light of day."

"Yes, I'd like that very much," I answered.

"I'll have Tejon drive you over there. Modibo will put together a picnic lunch for you."

* * * *

Tejon was coaxing me to raise my pelvis up with a hand cupping my right thigh, signaling for me to bend my leg, put my foot under my knee and raise and roll my pelvis up. I knew what he wanted me to do and I did it. My left ankle was already hooked on his right shoulder. I knew why. His face was buried in the hollow of my neck. I knew he wouldn't kiss me there or on the lips. I knew this was primeval and ritual, not affection. He was slathering my ass with vegetable grease. I knew why. I knew what he was going to do.

We were lying in some sort of animal's wallow next to a watering hole that had been carved out of a stand of elephant grass some six and seven feet tall, the stalks densely spaced, the stalks of the wallow underneath us. Carved out by some massive animal or animals—probably elephants. No one would know we were there unless they were flying low overhead or unless, like Geoffrey Bentham, they were crouching in the elephant grass, peering through it, watching and anticipating what Tejon was going to do to me. An enclosed world of just Tejon and me, panting, me moaning in anticipation. Geoffrey watching from behind a line of Elephant grass stalks, his heavy-hung cock out, being stroked, showing signs of life.

I wasn't doing this just for Geoffrey. I would have submitted to this anyway, but if there was a chance for Geoffrey . . .

I cried out as Tejon entered me with four fingers, up to the knuckles. It wasn't just he and I panting now; Geoffrey was sucking heavy, ragged breaths in and out and had moved closer, just a few lines of stalks between him and the wallow.

Tejon's thumb was thrumming my rim. I knew what he was going to do. I felt him tuck the thumb in and apply pressure. My mouth opened wide in a silent scream and I arched my head up. Looking over at Geoffrey I could see his cock beginning to stiffen. I knew what Tejon was doing; Geoffrey knew was Tejon was doing. I tensed but then, at Tejon's command, relaxed and made a rumbling sound deep from within my belly when the knuckles breached the rim and his fist was inside me. I let out a long "Ahhhhh," as the fingers opened and he rubbed my prostate and inner walls with his fingertips. The fist expanded, contracted. Expanded, contracted.

A sucking noise and the feeling of profound loss as the fist pulled out of me and the drawn-out whimper as it pushed back in. Out and in. Fucking me with his fist. I knew what Tejon was doing to me. I was hard as a rock. It took great effort not to blow, but I worked at not doing so for fear that he would stop fucking me with his fist if I did.

I had known what was going to happen as early as back in the camp when I saw the facial expressions shared between Geoffrey and Tejon before Tejon drove us off in the Land Rover. I knew also because the box housing the Fist of Gold was laying on the backseat beside the picnic hamper.

He did take me to the dig first, and we did scrape the earth a bit. And nuggets of gold did come out of the earth. For all I knew they had been salted there to impress me and raise my enthusiasm. I needed neither. My thoughts were elsewhere—steaming ahead to where Tejon's fist and then his cock would be inside me. And the Fist of Gold as well.

Tejon had stripped down to a loin cloth to dig in the earth. The loin cloth left nothing to the imagination. He was longer and thicker than any man I had ever sheathed before—even Geoffrey. And he was only half hard as we dug, me down to my shorts as well. The looks he gave me told me all. The looks I gave him begged him to get on with it.

When it came time, there was no build up, no foreplay. No request. No permission given, He simply walked over to me, put his strong hands on me, slung me over his should, and carried me into the dense elephant grass. Five feet in and it was just the two of us in the world. Twenty feet in and he could have had his way with me, murdered me, of he wanted, and I'd be missing for all time. Forty feet in was the wallow and the edge of the watering hole.

He held me tighter and I opened my mouth in a silent scream again as he breached my rim with the thickest part of the Fist of Gold. I panted hard and let out little yip sounds as he fucked me, both shallow and deep, with the gold staff.

I looked over at Geoffrey, whose cock was lengthening and hardening, as, through slitted eyes and licked lips, he watched Tejon fuck me with the Fist of Gold.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I exploded, my cum arcing up onto my chest and Tejon trumpeting a tribal victory yell. He'd been chanting in the native tongue of the Mandinka all the while he was fucking me with the Fist of Gold.

He extracted the staff, and I had the presence of mind to lower my left leg from his shoulder, place both feet flat on the matting of elephant grass stalks, the thighs as spread as possible, and my pelvis raised as high as possible to give him a straight angle for his entry.

I tried to regulate my breathing, relaxing my channel as much as possible to be able to take him inside me. He came between my thighs on his knees and grasped and spread my butt cheeks with his hands. I howled in pain and ecstasy as he entered me with an erection that was every bit as long as the Fist of Gold and as thick all along its length as the thickest section of the Fist of Gold. Never had I been stretched this much by a cock. Never had a cock reached so far up my channel. I turned my head toward Geoffrey, not really being able to see him for the glaze descending over my eyes. My mouth opened wide for a long, rolling howl, as Tejon began to pump me, fucking me hard and at length to his own ejaculation that flooded my passage and oozed out of my hole.

As he withdrew, there was Geoffrey, displacing Tejon between my thighs, hard—hard enough to enter me and to fuck me in the lubricant of the heavy vegetable grease and Tejon's cum. He only managed to stay hard for a few moments of stroking and his ejaculation was weak, but he was crying with relief and joy when he jerked and seeded me.

He stayed inside me, flaccid, but still filling, and kissed my face, my mouth, my throat, and my nipples, muttering "Thank you, thank you" over and over again.

* * * *

True to his prediction, Geoffrey was dead within two months. But in that time he regularly arranged for Tejon to ravish my body with his hand, cock, and the Fist of Gold while Geoffrey watched, and twice more Geoffrey was able to harden enough to enter me and ejaculate as well. On his deathbed he declared that he was satisfied leaving life this way.

Before he expired we managed to recover a fortune for everyone in the know of the Mali Empire gold at Kongoba. More than half of it went to a selected number of Mali officials, who were helpful in getting my share and that of the Frenchman, Perrin Tolbert, out of the country. I have no idea where Tolbert went from there and what he did. He was a sexy man, but just too wide across the knuckles. Tejon and Modibo went in together on a café in Bamako. The other Mandinka workers were delighted to maintain silence for what they received, not knowing what a small amount it was compared to the total haul.