Dear reader, the students have transcribed more of the notes and I am at last able to continue with the events in the village of the Molokoni. There is a short discourse about Miriam in this section. It seemed to fit well here, and though the section may seem long, it was needed to include her history here so as to explain some of the reaction Professor Winderly has to Jim's revelation. And, as usual, all the researchers and assistants are over 18 and consented to their participation and reporting.
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Jim awoke quite refreshed from his slumber. The long day before seemed to have been not one but three, and he had certainly been rather exhausted from it all when he finally had closed his eyes. To begin, he had met the prince in an embarrassed way, endured a long boat ride, suffered another ejaculation because of Dr. Winderly's foot play, made a graceless impression when he fell out of the canoe upon landing, had a lovely ejaculation while being watched be a beautiful native woman, and then enjoyed a feast and very exciting sexual entertainment. Yes, Jim had been quite tuckered out but had slept like a rock.
After such a deep sleep, Jim had awoken with a raging piss-hard erection and needed to take a leak. He did not see Miriam in the hut. He still had on his simple loin cloth, an apron held in place by a thin belt. It was shifted, so he adjusted it to cover his sore cock sticking straight out. No chamber pot to be found. He moved to the door, to pop out, and find a nearby bush to take care of his full bladder. He looked down at the silliness of his hard cock straining under the cloth, hiding nothing.
There was not much movement in the plaza. He did not know what time it was; perhaps all were at some task. It felt good to be outside with a barely hidden straining erection. Standing in the lee of one of the buildings assuming that was an appropriate place to piss, Jim, put his hands behind his head, and let the stream flow freely. He left his cock to do what it did. Ahhh...
Shaking the root of his penis, Jim naturally started to tuck it in. He dressed left and was used to stuffing his cock into his underwear, but of course, he had nothing on but the apron of cloth. He actually thought it might feel good to have his tackle held in a cradle of cotton for a while. Yet, being so freely exposed (or just barely covered) and unashamed was a magnificent experience. "Why can't we be this free at home?" he thought. As an anthropologist it was a question he was best prepared to answer and yet he was stumped.
Done with his chore, Jim decided to look around a bit. It was a domestic scene he found. People were doing the routines of life: washing clothes, bathing, gardening, etc. He ambled on, roaming the surrounds. Just east of the plaza was a rather large, verdant garden with lush greens, melons, and other fruit Jim had only seen in grocery stores. But then he saw something more, something not obviously domestic:
Jim espied a line of perhaps 20 men standing in the midst of a row of bushes laid out straight and even. A single woman was beating time on a wooden drum and the men were... "My word, I think those guys are jerking off together!" Indeed, the men were stroking their penises up and down with each beat of the slow rhythm. 'Well, this ought to be fun...' he thought, and moved closer, keeping himself carefully unobserved..
It was good field practice to remain in the background so as not to be part of the activity. After his rather deep engagement with the villagers yesterday, Jim was able, for a time, to play the detached scientist again.
Jim approached quietly and secretly. He heard the men humming in unison. As he neared, Jim saw that the men were actually facing what were clearly newly planted cuttings. This new row was between other mature bushes that had apparently been already harvested.
And what strange plants the mature bushes were. About the three feet tall and perhaps as big around, rather like mature boxwoods. Their foliage was deep green with waxy palmate leaves shaped like pentagons no bigger than tea leaves. Like tiny green badges, the leaves shook and clicked in the breeze.
What seemed so odd, was the way the bushes were trimmed, espaliered, really. Thicker at the bottoms, the branches were allowed to grow thick and were trimmed into two rounded balls. As the bushes rose, the branches were entwined to compact tubes. From his vantage they looked like...well, they looked like three-foot penises.
His research may have biased him into seeing that shape, but Jim quickly surmised he was witnessing an original male fertility ritual. The men were honoring with their own penises, the plants they had shaped to look like penises. The way the branches were so carefully worked, it was no leap of imagination to see how the steel frame of a skyscraper was similarly thought through and tended. Does this explain the lasting tradition of men to celebrate their erections by placing a fir tree at the top?
The tree is a symbol of life, of course, but Jim connected what he saw in the garden immediately to the view of those construction workers so many month ago. That was the incident when Professor Winderly called the class back to attention and dismissed the topping-out ceremony as the re-enactment of an ancient see ritual. In the simple Molokoni culture, it was a woman who directed the ritual in the garden. In more modern cultures, it is more homoerotic. Jim was captivated by what he saw and the connection he was making to further his own research.
Jim noticed their rhythm increase and saw that the men had begun to speed up their fist-pumping. The woman beat the drum in a rapid staccato and finished with a terrific bang on the drum, startling Jim with its finality. That was not all that startled to Jim. If anything, he was the more amazed by the volley of semen each man produced. In unison. All the men ejaculated their semen toward the new-sown plants at the same time. Not nearly the same time, but all together in unison; each spurt started flying as if in a water ballet at some expensive resort fountain. They drenched the new plants with the water of life! Seed for seedlings.
Jim so wished he could have filmed the almost unbelievable scene. Twenty or so naked men with their black skin shining in the early morning sun, their manhood proudly displayed, the flashing, pumping, spurting semen glinting and turning in the sunshine spraying out onto the newly planted cuttings again and again. It was something he was unlikely to forget. Magnificently primitive, a fertility ritual probably unrivalled, not merely fascinating but strangely erotic as well.
The ancient pharaohs had publicly ejaculated to ensure the spring flow of the Nile, but that was one man, not twenty men in unison. Such timing, such precision. Jim could not really believe he was seeing synchronized ejaculation on such a grand scale.
The sight also stirred Jim's loins. Whether from the freedom of being outdoors and practically naked or from seeing so much manhood and semen on display, Jim's cock responded firmly. He had had erections when he was sexually aroused, erections when he was angry, when he had to piss, and even when was bored. This was an intellectual rising, a scientific one, brought on by discovering connections between ancient and modern rituals. It was the kind of discovery that would give an anthropologist of any age a firm hard-on.
Jim could not believe his good fortune. This was exactly why he was here: to study penis rituals! Thinking back to the ironworkers he vividly recalled the men breaking a champagne bottle as a stand-in for a shower of semen. And here Jim had watched the real thing, the ur-ritual, that very shower of semen that the professor had described.
Questions filled his mind. Would the men be called upon to recover and shower another group of newly planted cuttings? How did they get selected? Who was the woman? Why a woman to beat the drum? Did they rehearse? He had much to investigate and was eager to get back to the hut and find his notebooks. 'I wonder if they'd let me film one of the rituals? That would be so cool to show at my oral defense.'
