What lies beyond Marrakech, gateway to the inhospitable Sahara? There lie lush green oases amidst the endless sand, made possible and populated by an unusual variety of men, their society, their rules and rulers.
After several days in the desert, long after we had lost sight of the last village and tree, we got to a land of shakes and dry oasis. I remember even now asking the guide of our caravan—an old man who knew all about that dry land and the few paths that could be taken to cross it to Timbuktu—whether a great white pond I saw in the distance was real or an oasis.
“It is impossible to tell,” I remember he replied. “Here, it might be either, as the oasis which appears in the afternoon and might have vanished by the evening.”
I thought at the time that this was utter nonsense, but soon I did find out that I was wrong; it took but three days, and we felt the earth shake. Camels fell sliding down the sand dunes which were collapsing under their own weight as the ground itself trembled. I remember the cry of the animals, and also the shouting of the members of our caravan who didn’t want to lose their cargo. I myself tried to run forward, as going down the dunes meant risking being crushed by sand. And then, far away, I saw what I thought was an oasis. I shouted, alerting all, but no one heard me, or if they did then they chose to pay me no heed. So, I continued forth by myself, trying to reach water.
It took but some minutes after the ground stopped shaking—the caravan still in disarray—and then suddenly rain poured from the sky. It was shocking that there would be rain in the middle of the desert, and even worse was how different it looked from the rain at Tangier and Ceuta! The droplets were big and the water was extremely thick and sticky. Tasting it, it felt at once salty and sweet, and not at all like water, but delicious and consistent like manna.
“All take shelter!” cried a man from the caravan behind me, as the rain fell upon us. I looked back, but I wanted to continue to the oasis in front of me, so I paid no attention to his warning. Soon, though, the droplets of water stopped, and in came a long white cloud which almost covered the sky. It was so immense that it cast a shadow over all of us, while its shape was unlike that of any normal cloud—it was long and relatively thin. It also seemed to fall, approaching us. I looked up, afraid as it seemed to come closer and closer, but fortunately it crashed yet ahead of us, near where I suspected the oasis was. The rain fell with a splash, raising dust which flew towards us and hurt our eyes as if it had been a dust storm.
I stayed there gasping, shocked at the wonder of nature I had just witnessed, when a second and then a third and fourth and fifth such long white cloud appeared on the sky just to fall down more or less in the same place as the first, filling the land with their deep smell which reminded me of my youth days.
Afraid at what I had witnessed, I returned to the caravan, and they explained to me that the phenomena of rain following an earthquake is normal here. They also told me that here it doesn’t rain any water at all, but milk—that is also why the oasis ahead should be an oasis of milk, and not one of water. Milk, they say, which comes warm and white like those of cows, but with a texture more like that of honey or the sap of trees, and a smell and taste which makes the eyes of a man roll inside his head. I didn’t believe the simple Berbers at the time, but obviously now I know I should have. Soon we gathered all our things and continued on to the oasis I had seen previously. It wasn’t a particularly large one, and the milk on it was drying quickly leaving a crust of dried whiteness.
“Why does nobody live in this oasis?” I remember having asked, and one of our guides then jumped into the milk, stomping on it to show me how dried up it was.
“It doesn’t rain enough milk all the way here. The main oases are further east, along the rivers of clearer sticky water, and that is exactly where we are heading,” he explained, and his son of name Tasnim, standing behind him, smirked, glaring at me with his handsome face and youthful eyes, crossing his muscular arms.
“The land of honey and milk, the paradise of plenty; it’s a far cry from this wasteland, and a far cry from home,” added the mischievous stud, before his father told him to go take care of the camels in the back of the line, and so he did. Indeed, our caravan moved ways towards the east, to my displeasure. Not that I can blame them—the desert landscape was soon replaced with several coconut and date trees, amongst other useful plants. Also, more and more of the milk lakes started appearing, of progressively greater size and depth, some of murky thick waters and others of sticky clearer waters. We noticed the rain and earthquakes became even stronger though, the further east we went. Being there was like finding a sea of life in the middle of the desert, but a sea completely different to the ones we know of.
We indeed felt like we were reaching paradise itself. Here, we noticed, men and women dressed immodestly. The men, particularly, let their bodies fully exposed except for their hats, which cast a shadow over their beautiful muscles—not only those did they show, though, as they also revealed to all who could see the fullness of their manhoods, which mostly stood rigid, but which sometimes could be seen laying softly atop their sizeable balls, as if resting after a day of hard labor. Never in my travels had I seen—or have I since witnessed—a people whose men are so universally handsome, strong and masculine, such as they are there, or so keen on labor, despite the heat and the temptation of masturbation.
In fact, hardly did I ever see such men masturbate their manhoods, as it seemed that when one felt another to have such needs, he would touch the other’s manhood and with his hands squeeze and stroke it in such a fashion as to make it release its juices, which in their dialect they call not “cum” but to “rain” one’s manly liquids. Overall, the impression of the uniqueness of the males of this land became even more ingrained in me as we traveled further, and I communicated with vendors at local markets who assured me that the more we went east, the more the men changed, although the women remained mostly the same.
“It has to do with the milk, methinks, as the milk they taste in the east is thicker and richer than the one in the west, due to the closeness to the source,” told me a trader who travelled between regions of this paradise realm. He was sitting down selling incenses and despite his age he had a broad muscular chest, with pecs heavy and plump, nipples red and hard, and a hard cock which oozed his liquids upon his abs, which he slowly caressed as naturally as he smiled.
This was in no way an unusual sight in those lands, and so I swear to the reader, as unbelievable as it may sound.
The caravan proceeded to the east for a couple days, stopping in different towns and villages to buy supplies and sell some of their merchandise, while I spoke to the local officials about their mysterious realm. I annotate now what they told me then: their land is showered and survives on the milk provided by their ruler’s household, far in the east; it is also crossed by large rivers which flows with an ever-oozing water which also came from the ruling household. Feeding on those liquids makes a man grow all over, and that is why their men are so abundant in everything, and why their concubines are particularly prized in the harbors of the Mediterranean.
All those stories and the evidence of their clear truth parading in front of me made me grow increasingly curious about the state of this realm. And so, when we arrived at a large enough city, I visited a local official and asked him whether I could visit their king, if I so desired. Doing so required of me taking part on some of their local customs, and so I knelt in front of the official when I arrived in his hall, and as I was instructed to do, I closed my eyes. Then, the most surprising thing happened—he stood up from his silver throne, and stood in front of me, and slapped my head with his gigantic half-hard phallus (which I estimate was about a palm and a half in length, and incredibly wet and warm).
“Who comes ask for an audience with the sheriff of this town?” I was asked by one of the official’s guards, as I kept my eyes closed, and the nobleman’s enormous cock now rubbed against my face, oozing on its juice on my cheeks and nose as it became harder humping my nose.
“It is Ajmal of Tangier, a poor traveler and scholar asking for protection,” I responded, and then the cockhead moved to kiss my lips, and I could barely resist opening them before the guard told me to prostrate, and so I did, touching the feet of the local lord, before he invited me to open my eyes and, with my head still covered by his smell and his juices, he invited me to join him for tea. Curiously, after the tea was brewed, the water was left to cool a little and then it was dipped in the cock of the local lord to soak his juices, before being served to us.
In this conversation he asked me as much about my land and people and our curious customs—such as covering our muscles with cloth like women—as I inquired him about theirs. It is then, after having told the master about how in the north a man is rather repulsed than attracted to another man’s cock—to which he reacted with incredulity -, that I asked him if there was a chance I could travel east and perhaps meet their grand ruler and sovereign. He laughed as his cock trembled and oozed its juices into the tea pot still filled with warm water, replying that I might well try, and that he’d write me a recommendation, but that the court might well not receive me as they are not used to foreigners in their lands.
Hypnotized by their kind, however, I decided to take my chances.
I continued for a time with the caravan as we went further east, passing through lakes and rivers where beautiful birds live, and where the naked man bathed, and oftentimes touched each other. It was not once that I saw some of these well-hung men—of penile endowment compared to the sheriff I had previously met—rubbing their rods against another’s ass, and then penetrating it. Once I even witnessed a man hugging a palm tree, as another with a cock gargantuan even for the locals (covering in length the distance of two feet) was quickly pushed between his ass cheeks and swallowed by the first man’s body, making him moan and tremble.
As much pleasure as the locals seemed to take from this, I was warned by my guide against joining the locals in such practices, as they are considered impure in the lands we come from. However, this warning wasn’t followed by many. I witnessed with my own two eyes, for instance, as the caravan paused alongside a river for the night, that Tasnim—the guide’s handsome son—would run out of the camp to the warm rivers of sticky water and swim in them towards the locals, who’d welcome him with smiles and open arms.
I saw it more than one, and once I followed him from the shore, and witness as three times he met the same man, of a height of seven foot and a cock of a quarter that size, which the handsome lad let break his tight hole, an action which brough him great pleasure, and made him cum upon the waters, which easily mixed with his male juices.
And so we caried on for days, but as the caravan was supposed to then go south, we parted ways. I took my coins and went to the concubine market, looking for a new guide—someone who could be loyal, serve me in this land, and take me to the source of the milk and to meet the king of this paradisiac realm. Seeing me covered in fabric, the vendors knew I was a foreigner and tried to extort me with high prices, but I did not let them do so. I found good vendors and had them show me their best merchandise, which they did once I told them the lord of another city had given me this or that word of recommendation.
“You shall find I have the best concubines in the market, sir, and you will not regret coming to me, in quality or price!” explained a vendor next to a couple large palm trees, as he pulled me away from the camels and into a shaded area. His own body was strong, and he was tall enough and powerful enough that I couldn’t resist his grip as he pulled me. He yelled for his son to get the concubines to line up, and I immediately recognized the handsome lad in the peak of his years jump up and gather the concubines, as he was the one who had pierced Tasnim’s ring with his hard member! Now, during the day, he looked no less handsome and no less hard than he had looked in the previous night.
As he walked pushing the concubines in line, his cock throbbed, slapping his youthful abs, and his hands—I did notice—laid for longer than necessary on the concubines’ muscles.
“A great selection, as you can see!” said the vendor, as I breathe in and try to process the image of a dozen powerful muscular and strong studs standing in front of me totally naked, at the peak of their virility, each more masculine than the last, all greater than any possible man could wish to be outside this realm. I touched them, one at a time—I squeezed their pecs and inspect their abs, before pinching their nipples and making them show me their wet tongues and their ass, which I slapped in order to check how hardy they were.
“Sir, if you’ll allow me, you have to inspect their members as well—if you are planning on having them as guides to explore the land, you will need someone who can comfort or feed you if the necessity arises,” said the vendor as he went and grabbed and stroked the cocks of some of the concubines, making them moan. “As you can see, sir, in their hardened state, these are the biggest ones between their legs,” he completed as he squeezed and stroked only the fattest and longest cocks, and as they rose completely I noticed the concubines had their balls held by rings that prevented them from properly releasing their contents.
The trader’s words made me blush but they were, in these lands where life was so easy but also so harsh, very much true. And so I followed his indication, inspecting each cock attentively, as well as their tight contracted balls. That was the first time I’d touched southern manhoods with my very hands, and sizing them up I noticed their proud size is even larger and heavier than it might seem looking from afar, as the meat pillars were framed by their owner’s impressive abs, legs and pecs, which might make their reproductive member seem less gigantic. In fact, even the lesser of the concubines had a hard manhood reaching a whole foot in length, while the largest one had a member of two and a half times that size—reaching well above his own plump nipples, the wet tower oozing liquids that drenches his muscles, and which the vendor told me to taste from their cascading glans. At his indication, I grabbed said cock and tasted it with a long harsh lick, ingesting these delicious juices which tasted like the milk that falls from heavens there, but softer and more diluted.
“What is the name of this one?” I asked after licking the manhood of the biggest, most muscular and hungest of the concubines.
The man smiled and responded, “Zayn.”
I looked up at Zayn’s eyes—and up they were, his being about one and a half of myself in height—and our gazes met. He seemed to beg me to take him from the marketplace, and I wanted nothing but to oblige. And so it was, and so I did, may my word rest as assurance.
After taking Zayn into my retinue and a few supplies, including a camel to carry my load, we moved east, through a great road well paved which connected the eastern provinces with the capital of the kingdom. We passed through a landscape which was becoming more and more vivid, full of green, as rivers of sweet liquids crossed the country and their abundant volume was used by farmers to irrigate the fields. Here the earthquakes were strong, but the rains were relatively rare; it was the immense rivers of fast flowing sticky water which fed the people and the plants and made the country prosperous, rather than the heavy well-timed rains of further west.
As we stopped in the villages, I noticed Zayn was not out of his environment. In the provinces of the center, men were of more or less similar proportions than himself, while in western provinces we found even the lads who had just matured and thus been allowed to reveal their penises out of their juvenile pouches to be of larger stature in height and penile size than Zayn, which truly impressed him, I dare say, as much as his size impressed me.
In fact, such was the impression those members left on my concubine that he once glanced at me, after seeing a particularly long and fat penis oozing its liquids, on a tall handsome lad, that he commented: “Their manhoods are outstanding in all ways, but it must be tiring for them to carry around such poles that reach the size of legs, and are of such everlasting hardness that they do not rest even as they sleep.”
Of course, I laughed at the comment, and told Zayn that his own manhood to me seemed to be astonishing in length, fatness and by how hard it remained for so many hours, and that if this was ordinary to him, it was only because he had become used to it, and such was also the case for the natives of the eastern provinces of his native country.
“But it cannot be easy to have a member that is always hard, one that never ceases to be in need,” he retorted, and I shrugged.
“If the customs of these provinces are the same as the ones you are used to, perhaps it is inconvenient, but it is more likely that they have their own costumes adapted to their own necessity, which might be of equal or greater convenience to them than your customs are to you, or mine to me,” I argued, thinking to myself that In fact I have often found the costumes of this country more agreeable to me than those of my own country, and so much more agreeable the further east we went. And, indeed, we soon realized how true this was when we visited the local fair.
In the city’s bazar, next to a store selling fruits and vegetables, Zayn noticed two lads who had enough age to have already released their penises from their pouches, which is equivalent to having lived 18 summers in our country; well, those lads rested in a pile of hay, cock rubbing on cock, as their relatives tended to the sale of vegetables and fruits, including their eldest brother, whose member was throbbing so hard watching his brethren frotting that it cascaded male liquids upon his produce.
Even as the immense lads rested, their gigantic dicks throbbed hard and furiously, and seeing that unfulfilled horniness Zayn eyed me, feeling victorious in his previous argument, as if saying that this could in no way be comfortable to the hunks. However, it took less than a minute for me to get my revenge, as one of the brothers stood up, and grabbed the other’s penis. He stroked it a few times, but only enough to produce abundant juices to coat his brother’s throbbing member—which I estimate to have spanned in full 3 feet. Then, he lowered his ass against it, and resting his hole atop the sizeable cock, he let his rear down, engulfing the majestic manhood which quickly vanished inside his body, which was clearly adapted to it and could easily fit the member as his height was maybe 4 or 5 times the total size of his sibling’s penis.
And so, the needy manhood quickly vanished inside a warm delicious body, and then, instead of waking his brother, the man lowered himself in his embrace and the two rested together in his fashion, and thusly impaled, the other brother went to sleep. Now one could think that this solved only the problem of one of the brothers—and thus argued Zayn too, immediately. However, the wisdom of the people is endless, and it took us no time to see one of their family concubines taking a piece of fabric and using it to tie the exposed cock, before starting to milk it and collect its juices on a large bucket, so nothing went to waste. As such, not one but two brothers moaned in their sleep as all their bodies rested and were busily pleased.
It was in that stall where their elder showed me such local food which they swore to be good for men, and to keep one ready to welcome another almost magically, he said. Seeing as their colors and smell were nice, I bought and started eating those fruits, although I knew not then what was their full utility and why their prices were so elevated.
It was along these lands that Zayn and I laid together one night. It happened in a most unplanned fashion, after having calculated poorly the distance between two cities. I at once resolve that we set camp near one of the delicious warm water rivers that dot the landscape, and he makes us a small tent with fabrics and wood. I cannot lie, however, and must confess the night was cold and uncomfortable, until my concubine invited me to sleep atop his hard but yielding muscles. I couldn’t refuse his invitation, and so I positioned myself over his much larger and more muscular body and rested my face upon his thick pecs. So comfortably positioned, it took me no time to kiss such meaty muscles, and lick his sensitive and large nipples, which rewarded me with oozing milk. I was surprised by this, but Zayn calmed me by petting my head.
“It’s just milk from my pecs, milord, please suck my titties dry for I haven’t been milked since you took me away, and being a concubine, my life liquids are yours,” he said, and so I did what the duties of a master demanded of me in this desert land, and nibbled suckling from his nipples, making him moan as milk flowed to my mouth, down my throat, replacing with no shame a normal dinner with abundant warm male juices.
What I did not expect or know at the time, was that this was bound to wake up Zayn’s penis, which rose to its full size and without his mere touch fell on my back, slapping right on top of my buns as it oozed Zayn’s pre which started coating my body.
“What is the meaning of this, Zayn?” I asked, surprised by his indecency, and he seemed truly embarrassed as he looked down at me, my mouth covered on a mixture of spit and his milk.
“My cock, master, it also has not been drained. Usually, concubines are drained and their juices are appropriately used by their masters, or their cocks are taken by their masters for their delight… we aren’t used to just being guides, you see, sir?” he said, and I nodded, understanding.
“But I am not a man of this land, Zayn, I cannot use your cock even if I wanted to,” I said, feeling its weight and wetness against my back, even raising my ass slightly so it rubbed against my crack. Even then, I was acutely aware of the size of the thing, which resting against my torso seemed to cover almost as many inches as arm.
“You have not to worry, sir, we are to serve and not to be served,” he said, and I sighed, feeling a deep, impossible need for his member, despite knowing that having it was impossible. My own penis had awakened under my body, rubbing against Zayn’s abs as I moved my hips to raise my ass. He lowered his hands pulling my clothes up, completely exposing my rear, and squeezing my buns with his large hands.
“Master, if I can perhaps open you up, we can do as the brothers did in the market,” he said, and I bit my lips, and his cock throbbed, rising and then falling down on my back with amazing weight and a strong thud. I wanted to say no, but I literally felt compelled by my instincts to say yes. And so I said nothing, I just nodded as he slowly moved his hands to my hole. A finger slid against my fragile and tight opening, and then penetrated it, making me moan, guaranteeing that my cock trembled between our bodies, as my ass was spread wide apart. I raised it more, as his finger pushed deeper and swirled around against my insides.
“Master… you are incredibly tight… have you never even had a man inside you?” Zayn asked me, and I got red, even as I panted from the pleasure of having his fat and long finger exploring my prepared but unused rear. I gasped.
“It is… not like here… in my home… I have done much with concubines, but even I would not have dared have one trespass my muscle ring,” I explained panting. He gasped in shock, and smiled.
“So, master, I’ll make it feel truly good so you become more daring,” he answered, and then grabbed and revolved my whole body with ease, my legs now straddling his chest as his cock is rubbing on his abs, under me. My cock now slid against his thick and meaty pecs, pushing inside the tight crack between them, exactly as his hands spread my buns and then he pushed his face against it. I moan but I’m also surprised by the strength of his touch.
“What, Zayn, how are you going to…?” I asked when I gasped and moaned at once, biting my lips so the animals and people outside our makeshift tent wouldn’t hear me melt immediately when I felt his tongue lick my hole and then push through my hole, inside me, and so fat and wet and muscular as it was, swirl deep inside my perfectly kept insides, licking and kissing and softening my insides, as my muscles massaged his tongue frenetically as my body reacted instinctively to the new intense feeling I was being flooded with.
As Zayn ate and licked my ass, I started humping his chest, my penis sliding between his majestic pecs. As I moaned, he hugged my hips, pulling me in, and slurped and swirled his fat muscular tongue against the insides of my guts and my prostate. I gasped and moaned and my cock throbbed as he did that, almost making me cum simply from these two actions.
“Zayn… oh….Zayn… you are going to make me finish… rain upon your chest,” I said, and my diligent concubine pulled away from my ass and slapped it, before sliding three fingers in and holding my ass, just showing how opened up I now was.
“Now you can take me, master…” he said mischievously, and then he lifted my frame, and made me face him once more, still above his muscular chest. One hand raised his cock, and he rubbed my hole against it, and I bit my lips feeling its warmth against my needy rear.
“Yes… I command you to sleep inside me tonight!” I said still panting, and my concubine then surrounded my abs with his hands, and lowered me on his massive member, as my face contorted, and I panted, gasping and moaning and shouting. “Oh, oh, fuck, you are thick! I don’t think I can!” I said as his member slid past my ring stretching it wide at once, and then inch after inch penetrated my needy hole, distorting my abs when a full foot was inside me, and my abs showed the faint line of his throbbing hardon as it stretches a full foot of my guts already.
“You can, master! Even foreigners once they are here for enough time adjust to our sizes, and you have been on the right diet,” said my concubine, Zayn, as he suddenly pulled me down, making another half a foot of fat throbbing cock slide inside me, stretching my guts and creating a bulge in my abs as I gasped in shock. My own rod throbbed, drooling of pleasure. As he slammed his throbbing hardon slides against my prostate, I moaned and my balls contracted and my member ejected my semen in seven thick shots of cum, covering Zayn’s face and chest. He licked his lips as he continued pulling me down on his rod, until he lowered my chest on his, and started moving his hips back and forth effectively fucking me as I hugged his massive chest and panted, biting his massive tits to control my screaming.
“Oh, oh, oh! Fuck, Zayn, you are going to ravage my ass, stop at once, its unnatural!” I shouted, mumbling incoherently from the mix of pleasure and pain as my concubine impaled me on his towering manhood, sliding it in and out of my overstretched ass. All my muscles contracted in tension as he slid in, and then I panted as he pulled out, feeling my hole being ravaged time and again. He just smiled, putting his hand on my head and pushing it hard against his muscular and sweaty pecs as I moaned and bit them not to scream, drenched in a mix of his and my own sweat.
“It’s okay, master. If my cock does this to you, imagine what those people we saw at the market did to one another? You’ll survive,” he said and as he fucked me harder and harder and faster and faster. Indeed I believed him, as I was overwhelmed by pleasure and cum once again, this time my muscles twitching milking his fat cock, as my own member oozed my second orgasm on his abs and under mine, getting us all wet and sticky as I slid back and forth with each thrust against my ass, panting.
It took a while but Zayn’s cock finally burst inside me, flooding my guts with his abundant and warm semen, as the hot concubine hummed and moaned and I drooled, feeling the warmth travel up my body, as his cock throbbed and trembled inside my overstretched ass. He moved to then pull himself from inside me, but I stopped him, and as such, that was how we sleep that night, and many nights thereafter.
Zayn and I traveled day and night with our camel companion, across the vast floodplains of milk, to finally see rise in the horizon a large plateau, which seemed to extend in all directions like a great wall—unlike the green plains or the yellow desert, its color was a reddish brown and it seemed completely void of vegetation. We were told that the capital was to be found a few days away if we went towards this immense plateau, getting so close as to be under its shadow. The idea of that was fantastic and hard to believe, but yet more fantastic was the sight we had in the afternoon, after I had Zayn set a meal for us in a clearing next to the road, under the shadow of an olive tree. He cooked us a meal, and after having eaten it, he offered me his penis as a treat, which I accepted as had become customary for me, following their customs.
I wrapped his thick member with my mouth, sliding my lips up and down the warm pole, and licking its underside, making Zayn’s nice plump penis throb and produce its juices. Then, anxious to return to our journey, I used a hand to pull his large and low-hanging balls, as another rubbed his hard ass, squeezing it and sliding to his crack, before I pushed two fingers inside his hole, and started twisting and swirling them inside him—that usually did wonders to his productivity, and this time it was not different, as pre flowed from his dick like manna. I moaned and rolled my eyes as my head went up and down on his cock, and my fingers massaged his anxious hole. Zayn was moaning, and I could taste his anxiety and feel his cock throbbing close to release, when he gasped in shock—the plateau, the immense infinite frame of these lands, had trembled and moved as well!
He almost fell backwards in shock, as the earth itself seemed to tremble in the distance, and then the long and tall plateau started to rise what seemed like hundreds of meters, its shadow also moving as it rose—the gigantic thing wobbled as it was lifted from the ground like a lever, the end rising higher and faster than the body, and at an angle, but with the whole thing rising eventually, and seeming to shift.
“Master, I think that… that is indeed a cock! Our king!” said Zayn, widening his eyes as the stories of his childhood finally make sense. Having taken a few steps back, his cock slid out and away of the tight grip of my lips, bobbing up and furiously slapping his hard abs. In disbelief, I turned around to glance at what he was seeing, unamused as my dessert had just been denied.
All such thoughts, however, vanished as soon as my eyes widened and I noticed I was seeing the landscape rise in the distance—that which I had assumed to be a plateau was in fact a country-sized rod, which now throbbed and trembled as it rose, its foreskin sliding back naturally as it seemed to harden, and become increasingly red and pumped. Just as an estimation, I would say the whole thing would easily reach well above 100 roman miles in length, or 100,000 steps, and probably 1000 or 1500 steps in height. It was truly gigantic, a sight to behold—that member could easily, in Gibraltar, connect Europe and Africa, and indeed it was such a cock that could reshape a continent.
Then, suddenly, the organ fell, smashing the earth. The land itself shook, and Zayn fell on his ass, as I fell on top of his body—his cock smacked between us, but no longer the center of attentions. As soon as the kingly rod fell, it rose again, more quickly this time, and then it fell and slammed the earth a few more times, causing the birds to fly, a strong blast of wind to move the trees, and the ground to shake throughout the kingdom. Zayn and I were in utter silence, as the immense dong rose a final time, oozing a waterfall of pre which fed the plentiful rivers of the land.
“This is not the member of a king… but of a god!” I remember saying out loud, and Zayn nodded.
“The king brings life to the country, the priests say, but I never realized it was so literal!” said the concubine, and Zayn watched as the royal cock throbbed and wobbled midair for several minutes, gaining even more size and hardness, now a gigantic stick which could easily be reaching above the atmosphere of this planet and poking the realm of the old gods. It was clear now, as its foreskin retracted, that what had seemed to be a plateau was just a gigantic shaft, crowned by the biggest of the cockheads, pointing west, furiously oozing pre, red like amber.
“Will it truly shoot? It seems so close but up to now it has only been cascading pre,” I commented, and Zayn nodded.
“It surely will, ‘the kingly seed showers the land’,” responded Zayn, and we both watch in awe as the immense rod suddenly jerked, and then trembles and throbs, and then ejected jet after jet of an impossible amount of semen, which seemed to fly over the kingdom until it disappeared in the horizon, with mountain-sized droplets of cum and pre falling all over the realm. Only then did I gasp in shock, realizing the true nature of the desert rains in this strange and fascinating land. Seeing that, and thinking that, my own organ ejaculated as if in synphony with the royal member, painting mine and Zayn’s abs in humble white seed, as we were indeed humbled by the kingly orgasm.
Zayn and I continued our journey to the capital after seeing the source of the rain for the first time, and we saw it seven times before arriving in the gates of the majestic city—its great red walls seemed tiny, however, next to the prodigious size of its ruler. “The city of shadows,” it was called, as it remained almost constantly under the shadow cast by the royal member, the smell and sight of which dominated over the whole area, after all, all remained particularly conscious of their insignificance next to such a member, knowing that it as much as rolling around could destroy everything you know and care for.
The capital city was one of a size and wealth greater than Seville or Cordoba, dotted by thousands of towers and domes and such majestic buildings that would make the rules of Cairo and Bagdad gasp. Its buildings were incredibly tall, of a great enough size to host the members of the court, which were the biggest man in this land—which rendered the capital its other nickname, “the court of giants.” Overshadowing the city was the meet—the point where the royal cock and balls were joined, which is why the city had been build there in the first place. And so, to the west of the capital laid the gigantic kingly cock with the size of a thousand mountains, while to the east laid the two bulbous royal balls, which reached so high as to be covered in clouds and invite proper rain, which ran down the skin of the massive orbs in the form of plentiful waterfalls.
As a foreigner arriving in a city inhabited by the country’s elite, I quickly became the center of attention. Wealthy merchants and noblemen would invite me to dine and rest at their places, which made it so I never had to worry about a meal or bed, during my stay at the capital. They were impressed by my diminutive size, as even Zayn, next to them, was considered small. This was a land where the nobles towered over their people, with heights that easily reached 60 feet and rods which in the greatest families could be of half that size.
“It is our heritage but also our access to the purest seed and milk from our king which makes it so,” a scholar told me, who had the stature of eight or nine of the men in my country, and whose penis rested on the ground as he sat atop a massive chair. He had me and Zayn sitting on each of his legs, as we talked to him.
“And is it possible for me to meet the king?” I asked him, as he bit his lips and pondered, as his penis drooled droplet after droplet of pre on the floor.
“It is not customary, but we also get so few visitors that it might happen. You’ll have to talk to the Grand Vizir—it is he that controls the access to the sovereign,” was his response, as his member oozed ample juices on the floor, and concubines from all parts of the kingdom—much closer to me in size than to the noble scholar—collected his juices in jars and pots and took it away.
I thanked him for his information, and we had a long debate over philosophy and morals, before he invited us to sleep at his house today, although he couldn’t offer me a proper bedroom. I accepted his distinguished invitation, and that night Zayn and I made tent atop his pecs, and with his permission we both feasted on the oozing juices of his magnificent member. Sleeping atop a man in such fashion is an incredible and delightful experience, which I recommend to all travelers who find the opportunity to do so.
I got an invitation to meet the Grand Vizir at the base of the meet—where the royal cock, the soil of the country and the sovereign balls meet. Upwards, climbing the massive male meat which controlled this land, one could see a long series of trails which were frequented and used by the nobility and the people to go up and down and reach their overlord and ruler. Right at the foot of such trails, however, sat an enormous garden irrigated by overflowing pre, a complex of palaces where the kingdom’s bureaucracy worked and resided and, at the center, a square there the gigantic Grand Vizir sat upon his noble buns, fully naked.
His figure was immense, with his body amounting to four or five times that of his peers, and a penis which in weight, size and productivity was second only to the sovereign’s. He rested his massive back against the sovereign’s warm cock and balls, and let his massive muscular arms to the side, his legs wide open, so his member could rest on the floor—his impressive penis snaked between his legs, cared for by concubines which oiled and rubbed it, all the way to a big hole, into which the Grand Vizir’s juices flowed, and from there they irrigated the gardens and fed the palace complex. On each of his massive pecs rested a large and hard red nipple, both of which were at the time being sucked by hungry nobles who were more distant relations of the royal family—the handsome and strong lads suckling the noble titties also humped the Grand Vizir’s muscles with their own hard oozing members, serving not to distract the powerful lord, but to let him focus on his tasks as his needs were cared for. The Grand Vizir, from this position of power, clearly controlled both the access to the royal cock, as well as, I had been told, the daily affairs of the realm. He also climbed to meet the King every day and spend the night with him, which was part of his duties and privileges.
“It is you, Ajmal the foreigner, that I see?” asked the Grand Vizir, grabbing me with his gigantic hand, and pulling me up as I get nauseated, close to his face for inspection. “You desire to see his highness, the Sultan? What for?” he asked, as his large eyes look at me after he opens the palm of his hand allowing me to stand on it. I gasped for air as soon as I was released, and fell on his palm, bowing to the immense giant in front of me.
“Yes, Your Grace, I desire for a chance to meet the Sultan for I want to see his realm from atop his cock. Besides, as majestic as his subjects are, I hear his body is a sight in and of itself,” I said bowing, and the Grand Vizir smiled, his handsome face becoming even handsomer.
“It is true that our sovereign’s size is the biggest, burliest and most handsome. Even my nipples pale next to his, my muscles are nothing compared to how immense his body is, and not to talk of his cock, which floods the land with seed and life,” said the Grand Vizir. “But his time is valuable, too valuable to be wasted for the benefit of curious strangers,” he added, before feeling someone rubbing the head of his giant cock, which was about twice as big as that of a normal subject even out of those residing in the capital.
“Your Grace,” said a deep voice, and I noticed it was the scholar interceding in my favor. “It is true that the Sultan is busy, but taking the foreigner to him won’t busy his most important tasks such as feeding the nobles and raining his juice upon the realm, or his royal pleasures,” he argued in my favor, and then slid his hand inside the Grand Vizir’s massive slit, easily pushing in, as more and more male juice poured down from it. “I think, perhaps, Your Grace, that you are being overly protective of your older brother, when he is fully capable of deciding for himself the interest he has, or lacks, on this foreigner. If I know anything about our sovereign other than the size of his greatness it is how curious his mind is, and how he starves for knowledge as much as for orgasming,” he finished, making the nobleman moan.
I felt greatly indebted to my friend, who had come to my aid and made the noble Grand Vizir reconsider his position regarding me. Having heard this argument, the Grand Vizir lowered me atop his massive male tits, each larger in size than a galleon, and told me to wait there, and that he’d bring me up to meet his brother by the afternoon, when he finished with the affairs of the state. There, I rested upon his muscles, feeling the ground under me tremble as the noble man spoke or laughed, or as he simply breathed. Sometimes, I admit, I was scared, but the view of the lads suckling on his massive tits, of his hands moving to his gigantic rod and stroking it every so often, and of the concubines collecting his juices and rubbing his muscles—that was something I could not have witnessed from another advantage point, and which I will remember for the rest of my life.
As the afternoon approaches, the Grand Vizir prepared to climb his older brother’s and sovereign’s mountain-like shaft. To do so he pulled away the two nobles suckling on his gigantic nipples—which nonetheless continued oozing its milk—and then he stood up, his massive manhood at the time softly falling between his legs, slapping his massive muscle thighs, his member so immense and long as to have its head rub the ground under his feet. He then grabbed the loose skin of his brother’s cock and climbs it, not using the trails as he was himself big and strong enough to do it with his own force. Atop his muscles he carried me and other petitioners from the countryside, as well as concubines and other guests. As he climbed the royal dick, the Grand Vizir’s own muscles rubbed against the warm gigantic manhood, making his rod grow and start oozing more pre which rained down on the large square on which he had been sitting—his naked buns were shown to the world as they wiggled and trembled with each move as he climbed atop the kingly cock.
It took no more than a few seconds for the Grand Vizir to reach the top of his brother’s shaft—after all, he was small compared to the sovereign, but still a magnificent titan worthy of legends himself. Arriving at the top of the shaft, we little guests looked around and saw the whole kingdom spanning on all directions, under the protection and being fed by the royal rod, its oozing pre and timely cum. The realm was clearly divided in two by the immense shaft that laid resting all the way to the horizon—a northern portion, and the south, from which we came. Over the gigantic shaft we could see cities of tents which hosted nobles and travelers much larger than myself, but which still had ample room atop the royal manhood—even from afar they looked lively and colorful, as the tents were in beautifully designed. Behind us, though, we saw not the sovereign ballsack, as expected, but a gigantic human, a true ball of muscle, straddling the royal member. This creature is hard to even describe—he was as a whole immense, maybe two or three times bigger than the Grand Vizir in length, but much more muscular, in a way that he was truly locked in place by his own hard muscles, as if a prisoner of their size and strength. We saw concubines running and working all over that gigantic muscular frame, oiling it and rubbing it and keeping it perfectly clean, healthy and moist.
I would describe this enormous creature thusly: he straddled the sovereign cock, his legs long but not reaching even half way to the ground, and same with his arms. All his limbs were so thick, though, as to be completely unmovable and hard to distinguish from one another due to the size of their muscles; one could see his rear end was kept open, though, by the position of his legs spread wide apart, spreading the giant’s ass. His torso was maybe 100 or 150 steps in length, also covered with muscle, and it laid rubbing against the royal manhood, with the massive royal pecs squeezed against the powerful shaft but so massive that they had grown wider and thicker than the massive rod itself, making the gigantic nipples which crowned them hover outwards, beyond the end of the shaft. From each one of the purple nipples, the size of which was greater than that of a man such as me, rained a waterfall of milk down towards the earth, although those delicious liquids seemed to dissolve in the air before even hitting soil. At the top end of said titanic torso rested a disproportionately small head and a beautifully handsome face which was locked in place by his powerful neck, always looking forward and casting its sight upon the kingdom.
“Big brother, I have come back to please you and have brough you guests,” said the Grand Vizir as he closed his face to the handsome one looking at him, and kissed the king on the lips. After a long and deep fraternal kiss, the two hunks pulled themselves apart, and the younger of the two royal brothers took us from atop his chest and put us carefully down atop the royal overgrown pecs, which rested under the kingly chin creating more than ample room for smaller people like the guests who came in a ride with the Grand Vizir. He then left us be, climbing his big brother’s massive body, letting his own cock harden as he did so, preparing himself to reach his brother’s rear end and penetrate it, helping the king fulfill his mission of fertilizing the land with milk and seed as usual.
I was amongst the first to meet the sultan. He inquired me about the distant lands I came from and also my views of the state of his kingdom, with his impossibly deep voice. His mouth moving was so big that as it opened some visitors felt the urge to throw themselves in the endless pit, as if it were a cliff, and I cannot say some didn’t do it, although to the sultan they were like grains of sand falling inside his massive body and he didn’t mind them at all. As I told him my story, the kingly rod rose, trembled, and made the land shake—but even as he changed the landscape of the desert and rained his seed over millions his eyes didn’t lose focus from me; such was his commitment to his duties.
“The land which your manhood touches are vast, your highness, and I must say, they are the greatest and richest I have ever seen, and their existence is unparalleled in the world,” I told the king, who smiles warmly, before I asked him how it had come to be so.
He smiled at me and told me the story of his family and people—how two ancestors of his, handsome brothers of ere, got lost in the desert and after days of walking aimlessly found a magical fountain and in the middle of the sand, and drank from it. Unknowingly that liberated a lost genie who’d then give the lads a choice: you can live here with immense powers, arrested under my seal, and bring life and prosperity to others; or I can return you home to liberty, but your life will be lost serving others. He told me that the young brother was about to chose the second option when the older brother intervened and chose the first for himself, but told the genie that he wanted his brother to be one of the people who’d live prosperously thanks to him—and that, according to the king himself, is the cause of their current happy predicament, although they did not know at the time that the magic would have such long-term consequences over the bodies of their people and the world.
I must admit I gasped in shock as the mystery of this land was revealed to me, and had I not witnessed its effects myself I would not have believed in it and written it down; but as it was and I did witness it, I leave here my account so you know and share in it, and can share the experience that I have lived and honor that ancestors who brough so much happiness upon so many.
After the story was told to me, I was invited by the servants of the king to climb down from his pecs to the massive tent city build up on the shaft of his cock, under the protection of his face. There I was given an immense tent, fit for a noble. I was also granted three servants, which carried and fed and fucked me whenever I needed, until I called for Zayn which was then sufficient to cover the needs of my holes. The larger of these servants was 10 steps in length, or about 25 feet tall, the smallest of them was half his size, and they were all kept naked at all times as is customary in these lands.
A couple days after my audience with the king, I was solemnly invited to drink the royal milk. I had thought that the royal pecs always remained exposed and raining their juices over the realm, but later I learned that they are usually suckled by the largest nobles, dozens at a time, as well as harvested by concubines. Doing that was not an easy thing, as it demanded using ropes around the king’s gigantic muscular arms to hold oneself a thousand steps over the soil as one suckles and drinks from the royal nipples. I refused not doing it, but as my size was too diminutive I had to go with a larger concubine who carried me in his belly button, until we were close enough to the milk cascade that I left my safe spot to climb his abs and pecs, until the concubine slid his head under the milk stream, drinking abundantly—only some droplets oozed down his lips and neck and to his chest, but that was like rivers to me, more than enough for me to feast upon and taste the delicious liquids.
After a week exploring the royal penis and the tent cities and the provinces which inhabited over it, I was visited by a gigantic noble. He, who looked somewhat like the Sultan and the Grand Vizir, had a height of 102 feet and a limp cock of a fourth of that size. Even sitting in my enormous tent the lad looked gigantic with his head scrapping the fabric of the tent itself, and his arms making the tent bulge—his legs were so big I had no other room in which to stay or sit, as he visited me, other than above his rod and alongside Zayn.
“I hear you are a visitor from the foreign lands,” he told me, with the arrogance of a noble lad used to being served, or that of someone who could kill me between his fingers, both of which he was. “And I hear you will leave our realm to visit those lands again,” he continued. I nodded in agreement.
“It is such as you heard; as wonderful as this land is, I wish to uncover many other land no less interesting than this one, which abound on this earth,” I responded, and he smiled, handsomely.
“So, I want to go with you. The Sultan and the Grand Vizir have allowed it, and in fact, at my request, they ask of you—in exchange of gold and jewels—that you take me with yourself… and I will promise to be a good boy and behave as to make them proud!” said the handsome lad, who looked as though his cock had just recently been taken out of his pouch. I sighed, thinking of the difficulties associated with taking a titan whose height covered the span of 40 steps to the outer world. He saw the doubt in my face and immediately grabbed my body, raising me over to his mouth and licking my cock in deference, although it felt more like a show of power as his fingers wrapped around my body and lifted me without the least effort, and then his tongue tasted my whole lower body without even feeling my kicks.
“Please master, I beg of you, I promise to submit to your authority during the travel and my cousins will reward you handsomely when we return, even more than now!” he said and I gasped and moaned and ejaculated unintentionally on his tongue, as I pant and nod.
“Okay...okay… but start by letting go of me! And you’ll be carrying our things! No complaints!” I said and he nodded and put me down as he licked his lips and tasted my tiny ejaculation on his tongue.
“Thank you master! When shall we leave?” he asked, excited, jumping up and as such slamming his head on the tent and making it rip and start collapsing before his massive arms hold it wide open by themselves.
I sighed, looking at Zayn. “We should go in a few days. Be prepared, the outside world is not like here, it is vaster and more diverse than your imagination can picture, and more wonderful than the muscles of the Sultan himself,” I proclaimed, to the gasping awe of the delighted royal cousin. And so it would prove, in ways that even I, experienced though I was, could not have foretold.
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