Thunder of the Gods Pt. 06

Philip's eyelids fluttered, but something was restraining them and nothing seemed normal. Gradually comprehension set in, followed by momentary panic, as he realized that he had no sense of time or place. The only sensation registering in his mind was that of the mat pressing against his body as he lay on his back. He had no idea how long he'd been here since Lacee had gone, taking with her the light and all connection to the world outside the tomb. The thought of Lacee triggered something deep within his body, and he began to feel another sensation. His flaccid penis was draped across his thigh, but thoughts of Lacee were beginning to awaken it. In what seemed like an instant, his tumescent member felt like a flagpole, a sensation heightened by his inability to see it. He knew that fully erect it could not be more than ten inches, a gracious plenty in anyone's book, but it now felt like a tree trunk that would brush the ceiling at any minute.

His rational self knew, especially after having transcribed the Akbalcab codex, that the purpose of the isolation was to focus his whole body on his manhood. On the other hand, given the lack of any other sensory input, he began to seriously question how long he could tolerate the single sensation of what felt like an enormously distended penis. How much longer did he have to wait before the return of Lacee -- one day, two days, more? Was he a fool to attempt to perform this ritual, and what did he hope to gain from it? He knew that the ritual was designed to bring the sexual experience to a peak reached only by the gods, but was his will power up to the challenge? The codex had made it clear that ejaculation during the isolation period negated the whole effect of the ritual, but he wondered how he could remain in this engorged state for three days without releasing. But then again, he had no idea how much time remained, and maybe the hope that the end was near was the key.

His mind racing, Philip tried to focus on the events leading up to the moment, and he managed to return his thoughts to his work deciphering the codex. Most of the glyphs were familiar to him from the start, at least in their style, but he immediately knew that they were of a special significance in relation to the accompanying murals. The murals were the most fantastic depictions that he had ever seen in Maya art, totally unlike anything else from any other site. To begin with, there was no evidence anywhere of any ritualistic warfare, terrorizing of captives, or human sacrifice, themes that predominate throughout the world of the ancient Maya. The scene began to the left of the tomb's entrance, the first panel depicting what appeared to be a young Maya noble in full regalia. His magnificent quetzal feather headdress flowed around his shoulders, and his lower body was sheathed in a jaguar skin skirt. Unlike other depictions of Maya nobles, however, there was no evidence of instruments of war or power in his hands. In contrast, his left hand grasped a normal sized erect penis, while with his right he was presenting a bunch of plants to a nearby woman. Women were rarely depicted in Maya murals, and never shown in such erotic disarray as this one. She reclined on a stone bench draped in jaguar skins, and her right hand was caressing her downy mound as she gestured towards him with her left hand. The accompanying glyphic text identified him as prince Yax Balam, which Philip had translated as Jaguar-man Growing, and it appeared that the woman was his wife, Cibchen, literally translated as Well of Honey. It did not escape Philip's notice that ch'en could also be translated as 'vagina', hence rendering it her name 'Honeyed Vagina'. The remaining glyphs were in the standard Maya calendric notation, indicating that the year was 9.16.15.0.0, or A.D. 766.

The second panel showed three persons, one of them obviously Yax Balam and a second just as obviously his wife, Cibchen. Yax Balam was in the process of withdrawing his noticeably larger erect member from the upraised buttocks of the recumbent Cibchen, whose face was depicted with exaggerated tears flowing from it. With his right hand Yax Balam was accepting a scepter-like object from a noble depicted wearing the death mask. Upon translating the glyphic message, Philip discovered that Yax Balam's father, Yum Kaax, translated as Lord of the Sown Fields, was the personage depicted with the death mask. The message further stated that Yum Kaax had been killed in warfare with inhabitants raiding from distant Caracol, and that in this year of 9.16.14.0.0, or A.D. 772, Yax Balam had succeeded his father to the throne. Noticeable in its prominence in the mural was a bench covered with bowls and grinding implements, indicating that Yax Balam was a skilled herbalist, an allusion substantiated by the glyphic message which also referred to him by the name Yum Yax, or Green Lord. The final message from the glyphs was the transformation of Yax Balam, Jaguar-man Growing, into Balam Vinakil, or Jaguar Manhood, by which name he would henceforth be known.

Philip was brought out of his deep reverie by an almost strangling thirst, and he remembered that he had not drunk anything since Lacee left. He reached for the water jug on the floor and drank deeply of the cool water, the only physical sensation other than his distended organ that his mind had registered for what seemed like weeks. Although the water relieved his parched throat and brought him renewed vigor, it also had made him acutely aware once again of his throbbing manhood. It now felt as if his entire being consisted of a grossly enlarged penis attached directly to his brain, a sensation that he could not shake in the absence of any other sensory input. He felt as if his organ was pulling him off of the altar in an attempt to crawl out of the tomb and up the stairs like a giant anaconda searching for prey. He tried to think of anything else to get his mind off of his wandering penis, but all that came into mind were visions of a naked Lacee. She was spread face up on a jaguar skin, her hands framing her dark bush, from which protruded engorged labia that pulsated with his heartbeat. As his heart raced, her hands moved to her heaving breasts, which were surmounted by nipples so prominent that they cast shadows on her belly. Just then he noted to his surprise that her hands and sprouted feline claws, and as she lunged at him with them he gratefully fainted into a deep sleep.

Chapter 18

After a leisurely lunch of fruit growing nearby, Lacee began her next ritualistic chore, and she still didn't bother to wear clothes. It seemed so unnecessary out here in the forest with the ghosts of her ancestors, and her body responded to the breezes and passing vegetation like a wanton lover. This time she was to search the surrounding forests for a tail feather from a Motmot, a brightly colored bird with the unusual habit of stripping away most of the feather except for the tip. To a human it didn't seem to make much sense, but to other Motmots these seemingly enlarged tips were highly stimulating. Lacee spent the better part of the afternoon wandering the forest in search of a feather, interrupted twice by return visits to the waterfall to repeat her morning's ritualistic bath. She did not experience the hummingbird episode again, and she was still not sure if she had dreamed it. In contrast to the first time, however, when she exposed her open mound to the waterfall now she immediately felt the most exquisite pleasure and desire. Her hips thrust uncontrollably upwards to meet the water, which felt more and more like an enormous penis pumping away inside her. On her way back to the hut from her last bath she spotted a Motmot feather on the trail, and she felt a thrill in fulfilling one more requirement of the ritual. Knowing of the feather's later intended use, she couldn't help but flutter it about her nipples, and the result was electric. They engorged as never before, and her knees buckled beneath her. Practically crawling the rest of the way to the hut, she gratefully slumped into the hammock for a dreamless night's sleep.

Lacee was awakened gradually to the sounds of a monotonous, unmusical croaking, which she finally recognized as the attempts by Keel-billed Toucans to communicate with one another. Shivering slightly in the early morning air on her naked body, she mused from her hammock that with their bright colors and prominent, apparently useless bills, the Toucans had no need for melodious voices. She found her hand aimlessly massaging her lower lips as she decided that the Toucan's huge red-tipped bill was highly effective for communication with others of its kind. She dropped her feet to the earthen floor, and stretched her body like a lithe cat. As a matter of fact, she felt so relaxed that she almost caught herself purring. After a delightful breakfast of juice-laden fruits, she decided to visit the waterfall to wash off the residue from her body after first vigorously rubbing the juices into her skin. She was beginning to wonder why people ever wore clothes, and smiled in anticipation of her aquatic ritual. By late morning she had become emotionally satiated at the waterfall, and she returned to the hut to begin the second stage of today's ritual.

Two days earlier, Lacee had saved a small amount of the powdered vah vinakil vine pods and the chile fruits, and she now placed them in a small earthen bowl from the tomb. Yesterday she had collected nuts from the cohune palm tree, and she proceeded to crack them and extract the white meat inside. She placed the cohune meat into a pot of boiling water, and after banking the fire went outside to relax in the sun. She had never been a big fan of sun bathing, as had most of her light-skinned college friends, but now she felt an overwhelming urge to pay homage to this powerful orb with her supple body. After about an hour she returned to the hut, where an oily film had formed on top the boiling water.

Lacee knew that this was the fine cohune nut oil, so highly prized as a lubricant by the British in World War II, and much earlier by the ancient Maya for ritual purposes. Using a spoon, she skimmed off the hot oil and put it carefully into the bowl containing the powdered plant material, and her nose instinctively reacted to the pungent odor produced. As she stirred the concoction, she noticed her nose draining profusely. Apparently the fumes were stimulating more than her sense of smell. Gradually she worked the liquid into a thick, lotion-like state, and decided that the whitish fluid was as prescribed by the ritual.

It was by now approaching late afternoon, and Lacee prepared to undertake the next ritualistic phase. She relaxed back onto the hammock, and set the bowl of creamy fluid next to her on the floor. With her right hand she dipped a small amount from the bowl, and carefully transferred it to her pubic area. She massaged it into her inner and outer lips, and lovingly caressed her clitoris with the strange liquid. Within a few minutes, her entire mound felt like it was on fire, and she could feel each individual nerve cell screaming. For about ten minutes Lacee writhed in sensual agony in the hammock before the burning subsided. Afterwards she could notice nothing else except for the perception of slight puffiness in her labia. According to the ritual, she had to apply this mixture a total of nine times in this fashion before dusk tomorrow night. She decided she would apply it again during the night if she awakened, and drifted off to sleep to the rhythmic calls of the forest frogs.

Her eyes popped open, but the darkness was total and contributed to Lacee's sense of uneasiness. She tried to calm herself with regular breathing, and gradually her senses brought her in touch with the world outside her hut. The frogs had stopped singing, so she knew that it was probably well into the night. The only sound to reach her ears was what seemed to be padded feet circling the hut. The sounds continued for just a few minutes, and then there was silence. Lacee held her breath, and finally from over near the temple of Balam Vinakil she heard a stentorian throaty roar repeated at rapid intervals. After about a minute, the sound stopped and all Lacee could hear were the normal sounds of the nighttime forest insects. She recognized the bass roar as that of balam, the jaguar. She pondered this new experience for a few more minutes, and then decided that it presented no danger to her.

Fully awake now, Lacee decided that she should repeat the application of the liquid as prescribed by the ritual. Once again she caressed her labia and clitoris with the creamy fluid, working it tenderly into the tissues. As before, her prominent mound caught fire, but this time the fiery sensation was quickly replaced by a new feeling. Her clitoris seemed to be growing, pushing its way upward to free itself from the confines of her vagina, and her inner lips seemed to be alive, trying to find something to wrap around. Lacee quickly pushed her fingers into her vagina to try to allay the feeling, and was relieved to discover that it did. She was surprised to feel how wet she was below, almost as if she was back under the pulsating waterfall. As before, the unusual sensations soon left her, but she was left with an empty feeling that she tried to relieve by clenching her buttock muscles and thrusting her mound upwards. Three more times before dawn Lacee applied the ritual cream, and each time the sensations became both more pleasurable while at the same time leaving her achingly empty.

She awoke at dawn feeling uneasy, yet surprisingly invigorated. Lacee tried to suppress her uneasiness with the thought that tonight she would be back in the tomb with Philip and all that this promised. As her thoughts drifted back from him and the tomb, she found herself fondling her clitoris, which seemed to be straining to be free. She'd always considered it to be of normal size, but today it felt distended and highly sensitive. Her activities in this region reminded her that she still had four more applications of the cream before dusk, so she proceeded to lubricate herself again. As her fingers deftly fluttered about her lips and clitoris, gently massaging in the cream, she knew that she could feel them grow. Her outer lips appeared to her disbelieving eyes like parallel orogenic mountain ranges, while her engorging clitoris might well be an active volcano preparing to erupt. The sensations were exquisite, but maddeningly frustrating as her passion went unfulfilled. She thought of the horses of her youth, the stallions with their incredible ramrods, and wished that she had one right now to service her. Her hand could barely satisfy her needs, and she wanted for a brief moment to shave away her pubic bloom to get a better look. She remembered how Philip loved her glossy black nest, especially when he slept with his head between her legs, and she knew that she would keep her ebony inflorescence for him. As her randiness gradually subsided, Lacee wondered if she could endure three more of these sessions today. Almost in a daze, she collapsed back into the hammock and drifted into a fitful slumber.

By mid-afternoon Lacee had endured the eighth euphoric assault on her genitals, and if anything it was getting more excruciating than ever. This last time she had barely to touch her swollen mound with the cream before the tissues burst into tumescence, and there seemed to be no way that she could satisfy the burning desire down below. She leapt from the hammock and paced the hut searching for relief, and was startled at the musky flow from her loins. Backing up to Philip's backpack, she fitted her buttocks over the aluminum frame and ground her flaming mound into the metal, but this seemed only to stimulate her more. Finally in desperation she ran from the hut, her long raven hair streaming behind, and sought out her waterfall in the stream below. Under its pounding incessancy she eventually found relief, and gradually regained her strength. Lacee knew that in less than two hours she would have to undergo the ninth and final application of the cream, and she tried to steel herself for the ordeal. If she timed it right she would be able to coincide her ascent of the temple with the period of exquisite torture, which she hoped would subside by the time she reached the tomb and Philip. She knew that she could not seek immediate relief from him, but at least the next stage in the ritual should provide some diversion.

Whether dreaming or not, Philip had no idea, but his mind had wandered back to the murals in the tomb. He was now gazing at the third panel, which was at first startling in its graphic splendor. It showed a noble, who proved to be Balam Vinakil, totally naked except for his breastplate, and with an imposing penis that protruded for at least a foot from his loins. Arrayed beside him were several piles of leaves, fruits, and pods from the forest in various stages of preparation, while behind him was his equally nude queen, now identified as Colel Cibchen, or the Lady Honey-Well, with one of her hands on his shoulder, while the other grasped his erect member at the base. Standing in front of him was a well-formed girl, clad in only a jade necklace and a short skirt of jaguar skin open in the front to expose her genitals. She was holding a shallow bowl at the tip of his engorged member, from which poured copious fluids. In the background to the right were two more similarly clad girls, each rubbing the body of the other with what appeared to be the creamy liquid from their bowls. The extensive glyphic message accompanying this panel gave a detailed description of the ritual depicted, which Philip and Lacee had transcribed in wonderment. They both found themselves becoming entranced and aroused, and within their minds was planted the seeds for the journey they were now embarked upon. Although Philip was able to decode the glyphic ritual, he had not yet understood what Balam Vinakil was seeking to accomplish, and both he and Lacee were eager to tackle interpretation of the next panel.

Thirst again brought Philip back to the tomb, where he proceeded to gulp down the remainder of the water. A momentary twinge of fear engulfed him as he wondered how far from the end of his ordeal he was, for he knew that he could not endure the erotic isolation much longer. He could sense his erection towering above him, and in his semi-delirious state imagined that he could see the engorged head right in front of his face. His heart was pounding and it felt as each separate vein in his massive member was pulsating in synchrony with his heart. Philip was sure that it must be at least three inches in diameter by now, and he ached for Lacee's cool soft hands to encircle it and stroke it to quiescence. Thoughts of her further agitated him as his mind drifted back to their last sexual encounter before they began the ritual. It had begun innocently enough, as they set out on the forest trail they had cleared to the fruit grove they had discovered. Lacee had suggested bringing along a blanket so that they could picnic while eating the fruit, and he had readily agreed.

Once at the grove, they had laid down on the blanket and Lacee drifted off to sleep in the warm sun. He listened to the subdued forest sounds for awhile, identifying several birds by their songs. Gradually he began to look at Lacee spread out on the blanket, and his eyes were drawn to her crotch where several shiny black hairs were spilling outside her very short cutoffs. He reached behind him and plucked a delicate fern frond and bending over her began to stroke the inside of her thighs with it. She shifted slightly, but made no other attempt to move away. He continued stroking, running the frond down the inside of one leg, over the soles of her feet, and back up the other smooth thigh. On about the tenth pass, Lacee gave a slight groan and rolled over onto her stomach, spreading her thighs even farther apart as she did so. The sight of her taut supple buttocks, barely constrained by the shorts, was almost too much for him. They had made love many times since that first time in Northbury, but he felt as if he were looking at a new woman. Maybe it was the surrounding primeval forest, but he experienced a renewed vitality that he thought he'd left behind long ago in his youth.