Peter Sexton has returned with a treasure house of skills learned among the Borogundi of the New Guinea Highlands. The Johnsons are eager to see their kids, all 18 or over, two boys and one girl, become the first members of the congregation to be initiated into Sexton's unusual church. The ceremony, with its erotic emphasis, has never been practiced outside of New Guinea before. This is a work of fiction. Please leave comments to help me decide what to write next.
Brad and Janet Johnson were a God-fearing couple in a small southern town in North Carolina. A bit off the beaten track, the town of some 20,000 souls seemed to remain as it was in the 1950s with small retail stores owned by local merchants, one large school, and three churches. The churches were modest and two were traditional. Most of the religious folk in town went to those two but a smaller fringe group attended the third: The Holy Spirit Temple. The Johnsons and their three children were among them. What happened to them there begins with the story of the church's founding and the central role Peter Saxton played in that event.
The Holy Spirit Temple had been founded after WW2 by a man who had spent time in the highlands of New Guinea where traditional tribes still lived largely unaltered lives as they had for centuries. Peter Saxton had been held captive among the Borogundi for 6 months when he strayed away from his unit. At first he was bound and isolated. The climate was ideal and he was stripped of his clothes. After 2 weeks a collar was placed on his neck and he brought to the center of the village where he was spreadeagled to posts for 4-6 hours/day. During the time anyone could come up and inspect him as much as they pleased.
Most villagers had never seen a white man before. They were fascinated by his pale skin and rubbed it repeatedly, certain that the white color would come off and a darker, more bronze skin would be revealed. When that failed, they began to examine his body more closely. Saxton was a very fit soldier. His muscles were supremely well-defined and rippled whenever he strained to escape his fate. His genitals were exceptional, with large bulbous balls and a straight, cut cock of some 9 inches when erect. It was often erect. The young women saw to that. And they marveled at the clear fluid that would leak out as Peter moaned and twisted to no avail. Sometimes gobs of semen would erupt from his cock. The women knew exactly what it was and loved gathering it in their hands and savoring it. Doing so left them in a state of extreme sexual agitation, much to the initial delight of their husbands who also, sometimes, wondered what strange power this white man had.
This bondage continued for weeks. Then the village elders upped the ante. They decided that this man had magical powers and great fertility. The women's behavior was proof of that. He was a superb physical specimen and his whiteness suggested a spiritual dimension that might rival that of their shaman. They began preparations for his initiation into the tribe. The Borogundi knew that spirituality and sexuality were intimately connected and supreme power in one dimension translated into comparable power in the other.
Peter was led out to the posts once again, naked, but the arrangement had been slighted altered. Between the two posts that spread his arms and legs out, a shorter, stubby stake that reached just about to his waist had been placed. A great gob of pork fat has been placed at its round tip and yet more slathered several inches down the sides. Peter tried to overpower his captors but the four young men were too strong. They brought him to the posts, bound him as usual, and then lifted his body up so that his anus was right above the stake. They lowered him down and added another rope from his waist to the bottom of the posts so that he could not lift himself off the stake.
Peter's ordeal began. The stake filled his rectum more than anything he had ever experienced. Pain coursed up to his brain. He howled and writhed to no avail. The villagers watched. Eventually two women approached and began to use some of the pork fat on his semi-erect cock. He became hard in an instant. The pain seemed to fade. The fullness generated an increasingly pleasant sensation. He actually bent his knees to allow the stake to stretch his rectum to the fullest and for the tip of the stake to pass into his colon. He had never felt anything like it before. An ecstatic state overcame him. He thrust his cock forward as much as the constraints and the stake would allow and the women patiently stroked him, slower than he wanted but enough to keep him desperate for more.
After an hour, when he thought he would surely pass out, the women picked up their pace and a third, naked woman with gloriously full breasts and a figure of exceptional proportion knelt in front of him with her mouth just inches from the tip of his cock. As the first spasm wracked his body and his semen ejaculated with enormous propulsive force, she took every drop of it into her waiting mouth, ejaculation after ejaculation.
The villagers cheered. He had apparently proven his divine status. The naked woman had retained his semen in her mouth and she now let it fall in her palms as the other women and several young men came forward. She dabbed a bit of the white liquid on each person's lips and they then licked it off and swallowed. Peter watched in amazement as his seed was shared among the villagers. He was a god to them and his semen was the seed of the gods. To ingest but a small bit was to partake of his divinity, much as Christians would later do with their ritual of communion. And all the villagers, not just some of the women, quickly learned his white juice could bestow a level of sexual excitation they had never known before.
Peter remained a captive several more months but he was no longer bound to the posts. Though still naked, he was welcomed among the Borogundi as a shaman/divinity. They taught him their language and their customs. He absorbed them and grasped that his role was to guide, protect and initiate the 18-year-old men into the customs of the tribe. He learned of potions and rituals that marked the passage into adult sexuality, a passage richer and more enchanting than he had ever imagined. It glowed with a spiritual aura of transcendence. He became a prophetic voice for them and in the sixth month of his captivity he foretold of an expeditionary force of American soldiers who would come, free him, and punish the villagers for their treatment of him.
His prophecy came to pass. But he intervened when the commanding lieutenant suggested they haul the entire tribe off to the coast and put them in prison. He explained how they had educated him and treated him as a god (after the ordeal he chose to omit from his account). They were his saviors and helped him discover his own spirituality to a degree he could not have foreseen. His pleas proved persuasive and villagers made to provide ample food and drink for the men who then took Peter Saxton back to the coast for the long voyage home.
His voyage home and release from the military was fairly routine. He did not tell his superiors about his transformation into a deity and soon he was entirely on his own in a small town near the Carolina coast. He found work as a handyman at the larger of the two churches and a year passed uneventfully apart from his gradual revealing of his time among the Borogundi to some of the parishioners. They were captivated. This man, so handy with hammers and saws, was once a god. He clearly possessed a charismatic touch.
His stories were riveting, and before he knew it, he was telling them of his ordeal at the posts with that greased stake protruding into his rectum and the beautiful maiden who received his semen and shared it among some of the villagers. His audience of about ten parishioners, men and women, three couples and four singles, were fascinated. They kept asking questions, eager to hear more about his time there and what it was like to guide younger villagers into adulthood. He spared no details and, on one Tuesday night when the church was empty and they were all gathered in the downstairs meeting room, he finally agreed to demonstrate how he had shared him semen as part of the tribe's initiation ceremony for three young men.
He removed all his clothes and for the first time the group saw what an extraordinary specimen he was. His muscles rippled and his taut abdomen unfurled in rows on thick, banded muscle. His penis was thick and long already. He explained the ceremony verbally, including how his semen was milked from him and received into the mouth of one of the women. Steve Borden, one of the younger adults in the group, offered to milk him, and Sherry Long, wife of Dex Long, offered to receive his cum in her mouth.
As handyman, Peter had the time to fashion objects for himself as well as the church. He had, in fact, affixed a dildo of comparable size to the well-shaped stake the Borogundi has used to a pole. With this tool he could have the dildo impale him. He had used it for self-pleasuring. but now he brought it out, lubricated it, and impaled himself as the ritual's followers watched breathlessly. He had also placed hooks on one of the walls and now attached ropes to them. He invited two of men to help tied him up in a spread-eagle position. He then asked them to place the dildo pole under him and slide it into this rectum.
They began. Steve and Dex took turns stroking his enormous penis and Sherry stripped off her blouse and bra lest they be soiled. Dex could not believe he was stroking a cock of such glorious proportions. It was at least 9 inches long and 7 inches in circumference, a penis with a stunningly gorgeous mushroom head. It wasn't long before Peter's precum, which dribbled to the floor in a steady flow, turned into a gusher of ejaculatory frenzy. Hot white cum shot from the tip and Sherry took it all in her mouth. She could not speak but Peter took the lead and explained that she would, in a real ceremony, allow the semen to dribble into the palms of her hands so that each of the initiates could sip and swallow a good mouthful.
That was all it took. The others quickly urged Sherry to collect the semen in her hands as they crowded around. Dex and Steve were first but all the men and women had their share of the tasty white cream. Peter went on describing how ceremonies like this bound the group together in spiritual harmony, free from jealousy or possessiveness, as they all shared in his divine status as the heart and soul of the community. It also bound them in sexual bliss as they quickly discovered. No one could keep their hands off anyone else.