customers handed me off to multiple sets of roaming hands. Two figures appeared behind me, each putting one hand under one of my elbows and a palm on a shoulder blade as two hands on each of my thighs pulled my body up, holding me there, in suspension, parallel to the ground. They wishboned my legs, as two other hands were on my butt cheeks, pulling them apart, and a set of heavily muscled legs and a rock-solid, thick cock approached me between my legs. I arched my back and my head snapped back as a cock almost as splitting as the Bull’s pushed its way into my now well-churned hole. As I should have expected, a dick pushed into my mouth when I snapped my head back. I writhed my body for my lovers, and they both came fairly quickly. I was so glad that I’d had so much practice in group fucking. And now I understood that I wasn’t being singled out by a couple of the dancers to help fulfill their ritual; they were mirroring their ritual on me while fulfilling one of their three obligations for the night.

Thus, I wasn’t really surprised when the four dancers who had held me in suspension lowered me onto the body of another dancer whose long, slender cock replaced the plump sausage of my last butt fucker. The two dancers at my arms gave control over to the man under me, who got me in somewhat of a full Nelson, immobilizing my arms. He fucked up into me for a few minutes, during which time the two dancers at my feet had kept my legs spread-eagled. A second dancer straddled my chest and had me suck him off. After a few minutes of the solo work at my butt, my legs were bent up against the back of the dancer straddling my chest and my hips were rolled up. Another dancer then crouched behind me and forced his slender cock in above that of the man under me, double-fucking me. The dancer under me pumped in and out, while the one above me undulated his hips and rotated his cock inside me. The dancer on my chest had reached back and was stroking my cock vigorously. All four of us shot our loads in quick succession.

They left me then, exhausted, stretched out on my cot. I had been through the whole ritual with the entire, very virile youth class of the Mitsagusi tribe, and I not only had survived the ravishing but had thoroughly enjoyed it. Maybe this would hold me for a couple of months and Dr. Emory wouldn’t be destined to find me porking his precious Egyptian assistant, Mustafa. But probably not.

Fingers of light were forcing themselves through the waving gauze curtain at the doorway when I woke again. I struggled off my cot, pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and hobbled to the doorway. I pushed aside the curtain and looked searchingly over toward the Mitsagusi tribal camp. Regrettably, they were gone. Sometime before dawn they had struck camp and were on the march, beyond the horizon of the flat landscape of sandy earth that stretched from every direction of our camp.

I looked over at Mustafa’s tent and saw him bent over and as bowlegged as I was as he struggled through his doorway.

So that’s why he didn’t return to me. I wondered briefly what arrangements the tribe had made for their third servicing of the night. Maybe they’d had one