The Immortal Historian

While this unknown woman might have just been a Copper Age slut to me, she was one hell of a cock sucker.

This woman continued to give me the most magnificent blow job I had had in years, but then apparently grew eager for more. She stood above me, lifting her simple tunic as she lowered herself onto my cock, looking as if she were spearing herself on an enormous stake. My cock slid slowly into her petite, thickly-haired pussy; she grunted, gasped, and moaned as my thick cock split her open, no doubt filling her as she had never been filled before. The face she made was absolutely delightful to watch as my cock slid deeper and deeper into her and she moved from pain, to pleasure, to discomfort, to sexual joy, each one clearly represented in her countenance.

Finally, after nearly a full minute of slowly feeding my cock into her tiny cunt she now straddled me completely, the entire length of my cock buried deep within her body. She remained still for a moment as her pussy stretched to accommodate my mass, and I gauged just how deep inside her I was; there was no way she could not be feeling my cock pressing into her guts, a fact that actually turned me on tremendously!

After having become accustomed to my size, she began to bounce on my cock, making my cock thrust into her over and over again. She started slowly, gently, clearly not wanting to hurt herself, but began to increase the pace and rhythm quickly enough. She bounced on my cock frenetically, trying to get it in as quickly as possible, rubbing her clit as she did so.

Up to this point I had been content to allow my nameless lover do things herself, but my somewhat dominant nature took control and I now grabbed her by her sides, lifted my hips off the ground -- and lifting her in the process, a simple thing given her slightness -- and began to pump her viciously hard with nothing but hip power. I fucked her as hard as possible, slamming my cock into her as forcefully as I could, knowing I was hurting her somewhat but also getting aroused in that knowledge. The woman seemed to enjoy the intense feeling, even the pain, as much as I was given the look of gaping-mouth, wide-eyed ecstasy that was clearly stamped on her face. She began to moan loudly and thrash as she reached orgasm, which very well might have been the first she had ever enjoyed. Even as her throaty orgasmic moans trailed off I began to scream mine, filling her pussy with gush after gush of my thick white cum.

The woman slid off, curled up next to me, and quickly fell asleep, never having once uttered a single word to me. I looked around the hut for some clothes and found a crudely knitted wool tunic; throwing it over my head I passed through the low door of the hut and walked into the distant past.

I exited the hut and looked around at an early morning scene, and immediately knew I was in the Mesopotamia area -- what would now be known as Iraq -- in about the year 6000 BC, or at just about the time cities were first being developed. This was evident by the fact that there were a series of huts like the one out of which I just came surrounding a sizable cluster of larger, mud brick buildings some distance ahead and what passed as roads leading to these buildings.

Given the geographic clues I surmised this was ancient Samarra. I could see that there was what appeared to be a government building, a temple with a huge, phallic minaret rising from its center, a palace of some sort or another, as well as various other buildings and larger homes. I was witnessing a profound epoch in human history, one which has largely been left to conjecture due to the absence of primary source materials.

The very first thing that struck me after I took in the sweeping vista of Copper Age Mesopotamia was that I was considerably larger than the average person around me. The woman in the hut was not actually a particularly small person, rather representing the norm. Many of the Copper Age men looked at me wearily, where as the woman all looked at me hungrily. Not only was I usually about two heads taller than the tallest man, but I was also larger-limbed and thicker-chested -- essentially healthier, the product of quality pre- and neonatal care of the modern world.

So it was that I wandered into the city with the eyes of thousands on me as I passed by. I looked around and realized there was a bazaar on these streets not unlike the one that had gotten here -- one I visited earlier today, or over 8,000 years in the future, depending upon how you reckoned the time. Unlike the one in Jerusalem, this bazaar had treats such as grilled lizards and roasted hearts on sticks, simple pottery and clay sculptures, and copper works.

As I walked on now I came across what seemed to be a dancing troupe of some kind in what today would be considered a town square or city plaza. I assumed the dancing had religious significance rather than mere entertainment because of the various banners and iconographic imagery, although the dancing of the men and women involved were hardly the sort of movements that anyone today would consider "religious" by any stretch of the imagination. The dancers -- individually, in pairs, and in groups -- were clearly engaging in various sexual activities to the driving beat of drums. I knew that Chalcolthic civilizations in the Fertile Crescent often had morning fertility rituals and sexually-related rites, but obviously no one had any clue as to the specifics, so I felt truly blessed to be witnessing this...blessed, and more than just a little aroused.

The woman that appeared to be the primary lead dancer was absolutely gorgeous, and would be considered so in any era. I soon found myself absolutely leering at her perfect body as she went from partner to partner, engaging them in sexual acts, grinding against them, licking, sucking, and allowing herself to be penetrated to the pounding rhythm of a beating drum. The drum beat had been growing faster and faster with every passing measure, creating a corresponding increase in the dancers' frenetic sexual energy as well as increase in my heart rate.

Although this dance was intended to convince the sun to rise and the rains to come, it was actually convincing my cock to rise and made me want to cum!

The wildly frenetic energy of the dance pounded to a manic crescendo when the drum and dancers stopped suddenly, holding their Tantric-like positions for a moment, sweat pouring down their toned and tanned bodies, their chests heaving to catch breath. The crowd erupted in ecstatic cheering and I joined right in, all of us swept up in the sexual energy the dancers were trying to create.

The lead dancer had long been gazing at me lustfully as she had sex with all the others, and I couldn't help but feel that she was sending me a rather clear message on which I definitely picked up; there was a lusty, hungry look in her eye that suggested a clear desire to consume me.

So it was with little surprise that when the group began to break up she strode directly over to me. It was, however, with great surprise that she walked up to me, reached her hand behind my head, and pulled me down into a deep, passionate, sexually-charged kiss. While there might not have been a France for another 7,000 years from this point in time, this girl knew much about French kissing.

The woman smiled, and said, "I want you," then grabbed the front of my tunic and led me away to a small mud brick home attached to the temple.

The pleasures that were shown to me that day inside her hut were beyond measure and defy description; we engaged in all nature of sexual activity for the rest of that day, the rest of that night, and into the early morning. This woman, whom I soon discovered was named Attaru and was chief priestess to the local fertility goddess, was something of a sexual expert. As part of her duties as priestess, she had to be highly skilled and knowledgeable in all the various ways to create pleasure, the things a man and a woman could do with their bodies, the use of salves, oils, and herbs to extend and heighten the sexual experience.

This was an experience unattainable in our modern era, and I was really, really liking the past.

To describe every delight we enjoyed there would be a book unto itself, but let me sum up by saying that I repeatedly penetrated every orifice she had to offer, she sucked and licked me as no other woman has, while I licked and nibbled her as I never had before either. She happily took my cum in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass, rubbed it on her face and tits; after she invited some of her neophytes to join us she happily sucked my cum out of their pussies and asses. When my cock started to become petulant she would massage it with a special oil, and it would instantly regain it rigidity plus several measures more. She sucked my balls with several well-lubed fingers in my ass, something I had never once experienced in the modern era. The hours of pleasure that night went on and on and on, and I for a moment thought I was quite literally in Heaven rather than merely the past.

And so it was that I was sleeping late into the next afternoon in Attaru's animal-skin bed with her curled into my chest when the chief priest -- whom I later deduced was also her husband, as we would understand the concept -- kicked down the simple wooden door to her home, bringing with him three stern-looking, well-armed temple neophytes.

I was dragged, naked, out into the same town square in which I had first seen Attaru as she and her husband followed, yelling furiously at one another. He accused her of betraying his personal trust and dishonoring his god. She accused him of being nothing of a man in bed and not being able to perform his duties to her personally nor to her goddess. He called her a word that would translate as "slut," she called him what could best be translated as "little bird-dick nothing man." I was at this time being held down in the plaza by the priest's thugs with copper-bladed knives to my throat; I was at turns thinking it was nice to know that marriage really hasn't changed much in 80 centuries and that I was no longer really enjoying the past quite so much.

The two shrieked at each other for some time, drawing quite a crowd of onlookers until he finally said his god's honor had to be preserved and motioned two new neophytes to take his wife away to her goddess' temple while three additional ones were directed to where I lay. The temple thugs all now picked me up roughly, at which time I began to struggle, only to be struck hard on the head. The rest of my ordeal remains somewhat hazy, not due to the amount of time since it happened to me but rather because of the nasty strike to my head, but I do recall having a course, burlap-like bag placed over me, then having numerous stones tossed in with me. I was then sewn into the sac, and fully came to when I realized I was being dragged somewhere.

I panicked, tried to force my way out or rip open the seams, but to no avail -- other than a swift kick to the ribs. I was dragged for some distance, feeling as if I was going uphill, until the trip came to a sudden halt. I heard the priest invoking his god, which was apparently a water god of some sort. He spoke about the dishonor he had suffered, he spoke about the dishonor his god had suffered, he spoke about the interloper. He then spoke about the proper sacrifice the interloper would make, and before I even had a chance to react I felt myself tossed over an unseen cliff.

I fell for what felt like an eternity. Know that dream all people have in which you are falling from a great height only to stop suddenly? Imagine that terrible sense of uncontrolled free-fall combined with no clear view as to where you are falling, what the landing will be like, or even the chance to brace yourself. I landed finally in warm water, sinking almost immediately to the dark bottom.

I held my breath as long as I could, panicking fully now, kicking, pulling, and yanking on the coarse material. My actions quickly led to my lungs aching, and I mournfully thought for a moment that this was the way I would die, a sacrifice in the Tigris River, killed thousands of years before my own birth.

My lungs could stand no more, and I finally was forced to open my mouth and suck in a great gulp of water. I braced for the pain I suspected would inevitably precede my drowning...only to suddenly realize my lungs had already filled with water and I was perfectly fine. I realized I wasn't breathing, but neither was I dying. I then recalled what Asag and Namtar had told me about being immortal while living in the past. I laughed to myself quite happily -- a great torrent of bubbles tickling my face as I did -- and gave myself for the first time the moniker "The Immortal Historian." I then began to focus on slowly pulling apart the threads of the bag.

I have no idea how long I stayed on the bottom of the river until I was able to finally pull apart enough thread to rip it open, but I do know my stomach ached like never before and my skin was a pasty, sickly, water-logged white when I finally walked out of it one clear night. The people who happened to be on the shore at the time were utterly terrified, believing I was either a ghost or a zombie returned to wreak my vengeance upon the priest for killing me. As they ran away shrieking wildly I prudently decided I had already had enough sexual adventures in Samarra, and began walking to find my next one...