The Volcano Speaks With Smoke

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2002 by Mike D.

Illustration of Cecille #12

"I tell you, I don't like it." said John Bekins as he stood nervously at the doorway of the shack. Built of palm fronds and bamboo poles, it was a rickety structure, but plenty for the more-than-warm climate year-round this close to the equator. All you really needed a house for on this island was for rain.

"What's bothering you?" Matthew Bliss asked. He was stretched out on his hammock strung between the two main poles of their shack, his arms behind his head, bare save for a pair of well-worn no-longer-quite-white sailor pants. He was well tanned from his days on the island, their ship had been here for two weeks and as far as he was concerned, if they never left this wonderful place, it would suit him just fine. His body was well-muscled and rugged, the life of a sailor in this year of 1820 was not an easy one, but at times like now, it had its advantages.

"The volcano, for one thing." Bekins pointed out. There was only the one volcano, and it was spewing smoke into the air in a small but steady gray stream.

"What about it?"

"It's been brewing like that for more'n two days now. Do you think it'll erupt?"

"If it does, it'll either be too small to bother us way over here or it'll be so big we'll be dead before we feel anything." Matt declared, not entirely accurately. Volcanoes were largely a mystery to him, more the stuff of legends and tall tales than anything he had any personal experience with.

"It's not the volcano that worries me, it's the natives. Did you notice they worship the damned thing?"

"Well," Matt said reasonably, "why shouldn't they? The volcano is what created this whole island. And makes more every time more lava runs down its side." He'd long noticed the natives' reverence toward the lava flows that stretched over their island, cutting it into three uneven parts.

"Yeah, but their drums have been pounding away all afternoon." Bekins said nervously. "I've heard about the natives throwing in a sacrificial victim into a volcano that's about to erupt."

"Yeah, me too." Matt said, then barked a rough laugh, his white teeth shockingly bright in the dusky interior of the shack. With his black hair and well-tanned face, only his eyes and teeth were white and glowed of their own light. "But they require virgins for that, as I understand it. You're not in danger on that, are you? If you are, we'd better round up a native girl for you quick!"

"No-o-o-o." said Bekins in a way that made Matt think maybe the younger sailor was a virgin after all.

Matt changed the subject hurriedly. "Look, if you're worried about the natives any, just head back to the ship and get on board until the volcano stops erupting. The captain will be calling us back any day now anyhow." They were here until their captain rounded up enough breadfruit plants to fill their hold. The island they were on hadn't produced quite a hold-full worth, but other islands in the chain were daily delivering canoe-fulls of more. The captain was busy trading his store of native favorites (brightly colored cloths to fashion loin wraps from, better than the woven palm-fibers or basket-like bamboo kilts the natives produced for themselves, that was the favorite, as was worked metal of any size and shape) for these plants, which were well worth their weight in silver or gold on South American plantations. Cloth from England to these islands, breadfruit to South America and the silver back to England to buy more cloth, ships like these kept up a profitable triangle trade as long as they were seaworthy.

"I...I think we'd better." Bekins agreed with some relief.

"Not me, I'm staying right here." Matt said firmly. "Take more'n a few drums to scare me off."

Bekins looked from him to the fires of the natives in the village just a short distance away, Matt could see their lithe nearly-naked forms as black silhouettes against the large orange-yellow-red blaze. "Suit yourself." he said suddenly. "Me, I'm out of here. Be careful, won't you?"

"Sure thing." Matt said languidly and closed his eyes. Darkness coming for sure, for him, that meant sleep, a full night's worth with no night-duties or day-duties with decks to scrub because some officer had seen a speck of seagull crap somewhere. He'd wangled shoreside duties here, knowing full well the captain would have little for him to do and it had worked out wonderfully. If Bekins wanted to go back to the ship and be thrown back into that mess, let him. For Matt, the longer he stayed on this wonderful, wonderful island, the better.... He slept.

The sounds of native voices chanting outside awakened him. They were close, and getting closer. He rose from his hammock and got to his bare feet and looked outside. They were coming his way, and they were all armed! Shit! Bekins had been right, right! They wanted a sacrificial victim for the volcano and they had chosen him!

Running away wasn't an option, this shack was right up against an old lava flow that towered a solid fifteen feet overhead. His only route was through the natives. And there were too many for that. His only hope was that the captain or other shipmates had seen his dilemma and would come to his rescue, with rifles blazing! Those would scare the natives shitless if anything would!

So he surrendered to them, a pair of brawny brown-skinned studs grabbed his arms and he was marched between them back into the village. From there, no doubt, he would be taken up the long slope of the volcano, there to be cast into the central crater. If it had one, the volcano was a worn, dome shaped thing and the smoke was all coming from one side, the side away from the village. Until it had begun belching smoke a few days ago, he would have thought the damned thing extinct! Hell, how was a fellow to know about such things for himself, anyhow?

Their answer came when he got back to the village. He was led to a large hut in the central part of the village and taken inside. The chieftain had refused permission to anyone to enter that hut, but now everyone was congregated around it. And inside was a stone altar built of chunks of lava carved from the big flows. Topped with an oval, flat-topped chunk the size of the altar. They weren't going to take him to the volcano, they were going to sacrifice his ass right here!

He saw Letapanani, one of the few natives that spoke English. "Letapanani!" He called out when he saw them, as the native men, now assisted by three others, lifted him up bodily and deposited him on the altar, knives cutting his pants from him. His underwear revealed, they cut that from him as well.

"Matthewbliss, do not fear." Letapanani told him, saying his name as though it were one long word as was his own.

"Don't fear!" Matt bleated out in the hysterial sort of laughter that comes from terror.

"Omeakamaii has called to us." Letapanani explained, naming the volcano with its native name (pronouncing every vowel separately) which was also the name of their main native deity. "We must join him in his celebration."

"Celebration? They're going to kill me!"

"Kill you? Oh, no, Matthewbliss! We will not kill you!"

"Thank God for that. Then why am I stretched out on this altar, with all those knives?" Matthew's wrists were caught and now being bound to one end of the altar. "And why are they tying me down?"

"Oh, Matthewliss, you are being honored! Every time the volcano speaks to us with smoke, one is chosen to be the living representative of Omeakamaii." Letapanani told him. "The shamans danced and told us Bepanatari's wishes, and he chose you, the pale-skinned visitor to our shores."

Matt looked over at the shamans and the central, most important one of the three spoke a few words. Letapanani looked pleased. "Oh, Matthewbliss, I am to be the first one."

"First one?"

"To join in the celebration with you." Letapanani said. He was young, Bekins' age of some eighteen years or so, and almost ridiculously handsome, with a strong chest naturally clear of all hairs, unlike Matt's smattering of hairs between his breasts, not enough to form a pattern or even show up much, just there, in the way on occasion but accomplishing nothing else in this life. Letapanani wore a flowered wrap about his waist, bounty of their recent trading with Matt's ship, and was decorated as well with bands that held feathers of colorful birds and a pair of flowers in his hair, both on one side, it gave his head a jaunty look, as a tilted beret might.

The drummers were pounding away, the natives were singing, and Matt looked at Letapanani as the native man pulled his loin wrap aside, revealing a powerful and quite erect organ. A snickering old woman poured a bowl of slippery something over it and Matt realized what was going on.

"Oh, no!" He gasped. "No, oh, no!"

"We are being honored." Letapanani told him as he went to the altar. The two natives that had "frog-marched" him to the altar now gripped Matt's legs and lifted them upwards and outwards, splaying them wide and Letapanani stepped into the V-shape and aimed his greased-up dong at Matt's anus. As he pressed the glans to the sphincter, he said, "Omeakamaii spoke to us in smoke, and this is his wish, that we join him in the act of creating the island."

Matt would have asked how bum-fucking him would help create the island, but Letapanani shoved into him at that point and he groaned. The insertion did not tear him as it would have the poor virginal Bekins, for Matt had joined with men from time to time. The voyages were long and the duties dull and the journey often tedious, and a diversion with a fellow seaman was at such times welcome. So his anus was somewhat accustomed to having a male organ in it, and the bowl of whatever that woman had poured on Letapanani's prong had made it very slippery. The thick shaft filled his bowels full and as the glans stroked over his prostate, Matt had to moan softly. Oh, damn, that felt so good, even here, even now, it felt so damned good!

"Yes, Omeakamaii speaks to you now." Letapanani cooed as he leaned over Matt, his brown body shimmering with gold where the lights of the torches caught it. "As he speaks to his people with smoke, so he speaks to you and I through this act. And in this, we worship him."

"Fine, fine!" Matt gasped, gritting his teeth in a fierce grin. "So get it moving, already!"

"Your eagerness will serve you well." Letapanani began to move his hips back and forth, a well-trained and adept movement of his body that drove his dong deep into Matt's insides and pulled it back so that only the glans remained within him.

Matt threw back his head and groaned as Letapanani thrust in and out of him with rapid strokes of his hips, his handsome face slack and open as he rammed his dong into Matt's ass. Matt wished his arms and legs were free so he could have held on and helped out, but the ropes and natives held him fast.

Letapanani didn't last long, a few minutes of thrusting into Matt's ass and he gave out a low groan and, to Matt's dismay, pulled out and blasted his load all over Matt's stomach and lower chest. No sooner had he finished than one of the natives holding his leg was replaced, and the native who'd been holding him moved into to take Letapanani's place. Oh, God, Matt thought as the snickering old woman applied her grease to the new native's love-pole, they're going to gang-bang me! He'd heard of such at times, usually as a punishment for some sailor who'd done a crew wrong or a vicious sort of initiation for a new crewman as was done on some merchant ships. As the hunky native, a more oval, rounder face than Letapanani's and wearing a fearsome grin, drove his pud into Matt's ass, Matt groaned anew. How many of the natives planned to mount him, anyway?

This second native was rough and held no gentleness to his thrusts that had marked Letapanani's mounting, the man was out to get his pleasure with no regard for Matt's. Matt gritted his teeth and bore it and the man did the same as Letapanani, pulling out at the last moment and spraying his jizz all over Matt's abdomen.

And the other native who'd held Matt's leg was replaced and took his turn, the man's organ was longer and thinner than his two tribesmen, it struck Matt's insides in a way that the prior two dongs hadn't, Matt found the invasion both more pleasurable and more uncomfortable than the others. He grunted with each shove of the prod into his ass and when the man pulled it out, Matt felt both regret and relief. The man's prong dribbled rather than spurting out his load, and that soaked Matt's cock and balls with hot spunk that ran down his scrotum like roaches.

Another native took over and Matt saw that this man's cock was larger than any of the others, both longer and thicker. "Oh, no, no, not so fast, not so....ah-HUHHHH!" he gasped as the huge dong plowed into him. "Oh, God, you're too big, you're hurting me, oh, oh, ah!" Dear Lord, was this turning him on?

To his dismay, it was. His climax built up into him and as the man was finishing up, Matt moaned and sprayed his own jizz onto his chest and neck, the shots were powerful and the loads sticky. The man yanked his huge prick out and gushers of jizz blasted over Matt's body.

Everything from that point on was like being a piece of dead meat. Exhausted with his orgasm, Matt could only endure and let man after man use his ass. The only limitation seemed to be that of the single men in the village, married men and younger than the native coming-of-age ceremony, or older than a loud shout of thirty, did not participate. By the time they were done, Matt's body was nearly covered with spunk from his neck to mid-thigh.

He looked up wearily after a timeless period to see Letapanani again approaching him. Between his legs. Matt moaned out, "Again?"

"As I was first, so I am to be the last." Letapanani told him. "I have rested and hope to give you quick respite from your ordeal. The volcano has spoken to us in smoke and we hope in this to have assured him of our devotion to him."

The feeling of Letapanani's dong inside him was almost like a homecoming. The man did know just how to position his body to give Matt the maximum of pleasure. Matt's overworked prostate, which he'd thought dead, sparked back into life. Letapanani moved slower, too, as if he wanted Matt to feel him as something special even after the long procession of male prongs that had invaded him.

Letapanani leaned over and kissed Matt on the lips as he worked his hip-magic on Matt's ass. The ropes that had held Matt's arms in place were released, and the natives holding his legs let go as well.

Freed, Matt could and did wrap all four of those appendages over and around Letapanani, and he kissed the native stud so hard that his lips felt crushed against his teeth. Used his legs to rock and move and joined Letapanani in pumping his ass, and Letapanani groaned as Matt plied his own skill to make their lovemaking even more intense.

When Letapanani came this second time, he did so with a roaring that filled the air and Matt felt the climax shaking the big native hunk, and he moaned and his own climax erupted, and he splattered Letapanani liberally with his second orgasm, ejaculating against the rippled stomach pressed against his own.

Done, Letapanani slumped down onto him and the native people watching him (their numbers had steadily decreased through the night, perhaps a dozen young men of the village, all his sexual partners that night, were all that were left) gave out a rousing cheer that would have been at home on an English playing field.

Matt looked up to see that these last watchers were now leaving, only Letapanani remained. "Is the ceremony over."

"Yes, for tonight." Letapanani agreed. "I will take you back to your hut now, to rest. If Omeakamaii continues to speak, tomorrow night the ceremony will resume."

"Again?" Matt moaned at the thought of a second mass-invasion of his sex-ravaged ass.

"We must, so long as Omeakamaii speaks to us in smoke."

"But my ship will be leaving soon." Matt objected. "The volcano may not be done smoking before they ship out."

"That has been arranged for you." Letapanani assured him.

They were walking back to Matt's shack, and Matt looked out to see his ship. "It's gone!" he gasped out, for the lagoon's waters were empty of any vessels, European or native.

"Yes, they left about the time we came to your hut for you."

"But...but...they left me behind?"

"That was as it was agreed, upon payment to the Captain of sufficient breadfruit plants." Letapanani said. "You may resume your travels when the next ship comes to our island. Or when their ship returns on its next circuit."

That would be two years from now. Matt looked at the volcano and saw that the smoke had already stopped. It probably wouldn't start up again for many days, if that. If not....

"I have an extra hammock in my shack, now that Bekins is gone." Matt began.

Letapanani smiled. "I would be honored."

Matt took Letapanani's hand, led him into the shack. Again he thought that if he never left this wonderful island, it would suit him just fine. And maybe the volcano would speak to them again before morning.

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