THE  HAPPY  WANDERER - V

PYRAMIDS, TEMPLES, and TOMBS

© 2009

BY:  GERRY YOUNG

WITH THE MUCH APPRECIATED ASSISTANCE BY:

TICKIE

"You guys sure you want to go to the opera?" Muti asked.

Ted and Gerry looked into each other's eyes as if reading the other's mind.  "Yeahhhhh," they said together.

'We can come back here…" Ted began.

And Gerry finished, "… for an after theater … snack!"

Pity the Registry and owners of The River Queen and its obviously 'different' tourist group, but it DID bring Muti back up to a happier attitude, considering …

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Attending the opera, "Aida," in the authentic setting of the Temple of Luxor was an experience that neither Gerry nor Ted nor Muti would ever forget.

Sung in Arabic by the traveling Khedivial [Royal] Opera House troupe of Cairo, the libretto and orchestral accompaniment, including reproductions of ancient instruments, was superb but for one uncontrollable, yet facetiously stated, detail—the SOUND within the confines of the Temple itself.  The floors, walls, columns, niches, minor temples, and statuary were of sandstone, limestone, and marble.  Even the smooth concrete repairs were surfaces that reflected any sound, rather than absorbed it.  Yet, the artistry, costumes, makeup, and minor modern temporary sets helped to project the intent of the spirit of the opera's creator, Giuseppi Verdi.

The final applauses and accolades were thundering, even for the audience of just over two hundred persons, considering the echo effects from the very living stones themselves.

Muti led Gerry and Ted through the throng of tourists and Luxorites, Luxorians, or whatever the modern Thebans are called, garbed in their tuxedos and evening gowns or everyday-galabeyahs, depending on their socio/economic stations.  Quietly they observed that the four men-in-gray had been in attendance.

The threesome strolled along El Corniche for about an hour enjoying the cool night air.  Strings of multicolored lights adorned many of the river-cruise-ships, docked three deep, stem to stern, reminding Gerry and Ted of the Christmas season upon them.

Quite a few little shops were still open, even at the late hour, servicing the opera goers.

Since Gerry had arrived in Egypt, he'd begun to recognize certain brand names written in Arabic script, primarily the Egyptian-bottled Coca Cola, with its billboards on nearly every street corner in Cairo.  He'd also learned the Arabic numerals, thus, he could tell the cost of different items.

They purchased two bottles of Egyptian Coca Cola and Muti got a Cream Cola.  Finally, he let Gerry pay for them.  And when finished, Ted said that he wanted to save the Arabic-scripted bottles as souvenirs to take home.  Gerry agreed.  

At one point, another horse-drawn carriage pulled up near them, and the driver asked if they'd like a late night ride around the town.  The men declined at Muti's nudging.  He must not have trusted the looks of the driver.

It was nearly midnight when the three returned to the stateroom aboard The Luxor.  It had been a long, emotionally filled day, and after pulling the duvet and top sheet back, each man stripped naked and just collapsed on the huge bed, Muti in the middle;  they didn't even bother to take showers.

The slight, gentle rocking of The Luxor was relaxing.  Muti was flat on his back.  To his left, Ted lay on his side, facing and against Muti's side, his limp cock against Muti's hip, and his arm bent across Muti's chest, a finger slowly circling a hardening nipple.

"Ummmmm," Muti moaned softly, but loud enough for both to hear.

Still not willing to lie on his tattoo, Gerry was on his stomach, his hip touching Muti's right hip, and his arm across Muti's taut abs, his fingers gently playing in the wiry pubic hair above Muti's manhood.  He turned his head and kissed Muti's shoulder.

Another quiet moan of pleasure, and Muti slid his right hand under Gerry's midsection.

Gerry lifted his hips a little, and Muti moved his hand further, cupping Gerry's flaccid maleness, barely massaging his balls.

Things started to grow.

"You guys keep this up, and I'm not going to be able to get any sleep," Muti said, tightening his glutes, thereby thrusting his hips upward.  His own long, dark, circumcised, thick Arabian cock slapped the back of Gerry's hand leaving an offering of clear viscid substance.

Gerry brought his hand up and licked the sweet stuff off, giving forth with another soft moan.

Ted raised up and rested on his elbow.  He leaned forward, waiting.

Likewise, Gerry shifted his position, raised up a little, and kissed Ted, their tongues dueling for entrance into each other's mouth.  Succeeding only briefly, they then attacked Muti's open lips, eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, forehead, and neck.  Six hands began roaming, caressing, rubbing, fondling until the room was filled with moans, groans, grunts, and the occasional squeal.

Muti's tongue darted back and forth between Ted's and Gerry's, whenever available, moving his head from one side to the other.  Then, Gerry decided to attack Muti's right nipple, licking and nibbling it again and again. 

Ted dived into those thick, luscious Arab lips, his tongue spearing every nook and cranny of Muti's hungry mouth, buffering the passionate sounds issuing from his desperate throat.

Gerry had moved farther south, slathering Muti's bellybutton with his wet, wet tongue.  Muti squirmed, contorted, and writhed in an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure as Gerry proceeded slowly, in one fell swoop, to suck and swallow the entirety of Muti's leaking, throbbing, pulsing shaft, one hand rolling and massaging that musky, dark, hairless ball-sac.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Muti shot upright from the waist, nearly knocking Ted off the bed, as he yelled an un-writeable Arabic sound while flooding Gerry's esophagus with shot after thick shot of his sweet 'crema de amour', his love cream.

But Ted and Gerry weren't through with him yet.  Oh, no!  Not at all!

Ted then moved into position between Muti's legs so that he could chew, gnaw, and swirl his tongue all around Muti's ball-sac.  Muti flopped back down on the bed, exhausted from the blast—but only temporarily, to be sure.  Still, he beat the mattress with his clinched fists, the new and continued feelings being so stimulating, yet at the same time, painful, in an exotic way.  

Gerry turned once again to kiss Muti, sharing a bit of the heavenly nectar that he'd not swallowed.  Then, back he went to Muti's nether parts.  He put his hand under Ted's chin and drew him up and kissed him, sharing nearly the remainder in his mouth.

Ted then crawled up and straddled Muti's abs.  He leaned down and, just over Muti's open mouth, he let Gerry's gift and his own saliva drip ever so slowly across Muti's lips.

When Ted bent forward, Gerry was still kneeling between Muti's spread thighs, with his face only inches from Ted's ass.  He spread those all so familiar butt muscles and swiped his tongue over Ted's ass crack again and again and yet again.

That sweet, musky, puckered muscle began to contract and relax, contract and relax, over and over.  Gerry jabbed at it with his rolled-up, spear-like tongue and entered and withdrew, and entered again, as deeply as he could.

"Oh, God, I need it.  Give it to me," Ted groaned, throwing his head back as he dropped completely onto Muti's hard-nippled chest.

"Just a minute," Gerry said, sounding out of breath from his exertions.  Quickly, he grabbed the jar of petroleum jelly from the bedside table, jabbed two fingers in it, and drew out a huge dollop of the lubricant.  He stroked and smeared it on Muti's oversized penis—well … 'oversized' in comparison to what he knew Ted had become accustomed.

Then Gerry jabbed his fingers in again, and got another dollop for Ted's ass, which was still flexing with desire and need.  It seemed to be asking for someone to fill it with something hard and long and thick, and it was about to happen.

Around the pucker Gerry smeared it.  One finger entered with hungry ease, then two, then three, then…  Nope, Ted tightened at the attempt of four.  Gerry pushed in the three, pulled them out, pushed, pulled, slid in, and slid out—Ted was ready.

"Sit up," Gerry told him.

Ted raised off Muti's chest, still resting on his knees.  Gerry helped him wriggle his way back a little to be over Muti's hot poker.  Gerry gripped it and guided it as Ted lowered his ass.

The first inch entered easily, then the second and the third.  Ted paused;  he'd never taken anything this large.  He raised a little and then lowered himself yet more.

Gerry's left hand was still gripped around most of Muti's tumescence, his right hand at the top of Muti's right hipbone.  Ted raised himself again, paused, and with a look of determination, quickly slid down Muti's hard, yet soft, fleshy proctoprobe, Gerry's thumb being engulfed alongside Muti's monster. 

Ted screamed in pain, but the sound soon became one of satisfied pleasure.  He sat perfectly still, gasping for breath, for several moments.

"You all right, babe?" Gerry asked softly, but with concern in his voice.

"Ohhhhh, yeeeees," Ted stretched out his answer.  "More than all right.  I feel like I'm in Heaven … in Nirvana.

Gerry wriggled his thumb, deep within Ted's rectum.  Ted's sphincter spasmed quickly, gripping and releasing the intruders.

Satisfied that everything was, indeed, all right, Gerry eased his thumb out as Ted began to ride Muti up and down, his own cock smacking both, his own and Muti's abs, with strings of pre-cum stretching between the two.  

Gerry lovingly kissed the back of Ted's neck before he moved to stand by the other side of the bed.  He leaned over and kissed Muti once more.

When he pulled away for a breath of air, Muti asked, "Would my friend like for this slave to pleasure him with his mouth?"

"Stop playing the slave, Muti," Gerry answered.  "You're no slave to us, and you don't have to do anything that you don't want.  But yes, I'd like that.  I'd like that very much."

As Gerry began a slow but veeeeery sexy impaling of his own oral tunnel of love by sucking Ted's flopping, dripping maleness, Muti raised a little and asked Gerry to put the two bed-pillows under his shoulders.

"Now crawl up here and straddle my head, THEN suck on your lover's TONGUE," Muti directed.  Gerry grinned at the mental vision and kissed Muti again.

Soon, the three were being pleasured as one—Ted was riding the largest dick he'd ever had up his ass, Muti was dining on a delicious American sausage, and Gerry and Ted were swapping spit and trying to strangle each other with the depth of their tonsil-ticklers—all at the same time.

They were covered in slimy sweat, enjoying each other to the fullest.  The remnants of the jelly on Gerry's hands had combined with the drippings of pre-cum, the expulsion and slatherings of spit.  Every place on each of them was slippery yet sticky.  The sheet was a mess, to be sure.

Muti gasped and roared the loudest when he lost control and blasted his love cream in Ted's bowels, causing a chain reaction.  Ted actually bit down on Gerry's tongue, not causing any damage but preventing any withdrawal.  At the same time, he shot his own hot, spermy gift, splattering Gerry's, Muti's, and his own abs and chest, and the crumpled sheet on which they played.  Gerry rammed as deeply as his six-inch rod would go into Muti's throat, his emptying balls now preventing Muti from breathing, but THAT broke the moment.

Not being able to breathe, Muti pummeled Gerry's back—or more precisely—his newly tattooed lower back.

Gerry screamed in pain; shocked, Ted released his tooth-hold on Gerry's tongue; Gerry shot straight up, sitting but for a nano-second on Muti's face, and then yanked his rapidly deflating cock from Muti's mouth, scraping his own cock against Muti's teeth.  He jumped from the bed, putting the backs of both hands on the tattoo.  "Dammit all to hell," he screamed again, falling to his knees.

A knock at the locked door, and what sounded like the voice of Abdul, one of the boat's waiters, said in Arabic and then again in English, "Everything okay in there?"

"Yes!" the three grumbled.  "Just a little … uhhh … excitement that got out of hand," Muti shouted.

"Okay.  Good night," the voice said, followed by a diminishing "Hee hee hee hee hee," as the man, supposedly, walked away, probably groping himself in the solitude of the mid-morning hour.

Ted and Muti had jumped from the bed and were trying to comfort Gerry.  Muti was begging Gerry to forgive him.  Ted had grabbed a tube of mild anesthetic and was gently applying it to the tattoo, now oozing again for the first time that day.

"It's all right, Muti!" Gerry said.  "You forgot.  We all forgot … in the moment of passion, and it WAS a passion I'll never forget."  He grabbed Muti from the kneeling position he had been in, and pulled him across his chest, hugging and kissing him, and trying to show that there were no hard feelings.  Well … no hard feelings for the moment, but there WERE stirrings down below.

As Ted continued to soothe Gerry's sore back, Muti felt Gerry's growing excitement.  He quickly jumped up, and then lay completely prone on the floor, straight out from between Gerry spread thighs, and began to fellate him again.

"No, Muti, no," Gerry moaned.  "As much as I enjoy your sweet mouth around my cock, I can't take any more tonight ... this morning … whatever.  I'm exhausted."

By the time Gerry had finished speaking, Muti had withdrawn from his ministrations, and, instead, began gently licking Ted's cummings from his and Gerry's abs and chest.

Ted had finished what he was doing, and was about to apply a new dressing on Gerry's back.

"Before you do that, Ted, why don't you come into the bathroom, Gerry, and I'll give you a sponge bath?" Muti asked.

And so it went. 

Soon, the three were snoring, wrapped in each other's arms and legs.

Day 10:  December 22

The 'white noise' of a small generator was heard twenty-four hours a day, not annoying or displeasing as it constantly supplied electricity for lighting, electrical appliances, air conditioning, and whatnot.  But at about 6:00 a.m., the main engines of The Luxor lumbered into motion with a couple of backfires, sending great puffs of smoke into the Theban air.  The paddle wheels on either side of the small ship slowly began to churn the silt and the water, and she pulled into the Nile to begin her journey upriver to the south of Luxor, the modern name for ancient Thebes.  The main tour ship followed behind her.

Gerry, Ted, and Muti only awoke briefly—they needed more sleep after their earlier climactic romp—they pulled the sheet and blanket over their heads, trying to block out the unexpected noise.  But lucky for them, their stateroom was at the bow of the ship, and the loud, main engines were housed at the stern.

A couple hours later, the threesome stirred, got up, and attended to their individual morning rituals, and then dressed for the day—Gerry and Ted in polo shirts and mid-thigh length khaki shorts and sandals, Muti once again in his sheer, off-white galabeyah AND his so-called slave collar.  He, too, wore sandals.

After a quick breakfast, they returned to the privacy of the deck on the bow, but with a decanter of hot coffee and three cups and saucers.  Ted and Muti reclined in the sun lounges, but Gerry stood at the railing absorbing every iota of the local scenery. 

The many date groves, heavy laden with enormous bunches of their sweet fruits, were ready to be harvested.  Naked little boys running, screaming with glee, kicking a soccer ball or two, splashing, playing in the knee-deep water near the opposite bank, the west bank.  Huge black, gentle Water Buffalo idly grazing on the papyrus reeds [bulrushes] were growing in the shallows;  one was being guided by a lone, nude, little boy of no more than six or seven years, tugging the bovine by its nose ring. 

It reminded Gerry of his stay in the Caribbean, years before, where little boys ran around naked, except for their ragged shirts;  where little girls also ran around naked, except for their skirts.  Different cultures, different moralities from his own.  All so very, very innocent.

There were also prepubescent bare-chested girls in long skirts along the banks of 'Mother Nile', who sang merrily while helping older girls who were completely dressed in skirts and blouses, the back hems of their skirts pulled through their legs and tucked up under their belts or waist-cinches, washing clothes, beating them on the rocks at the very edge of the water.  In another, earlier, century, they may have been in training to become Temple Virgins. 

Adult women were present, more modestly dressed—some with, some without the black burqah;  they were the overseers and protectors of the young girls against the advances of the boys and young men.  One old woman with white hair showing from under her headscarf, was bent over from the waist, struggling to wash what looked like pots and pans.

'Oh, Mother,' Gerry thought as his heart went out to the old woman, 'I'd gladly do that for you.'  He could feel the pain in her strained, tired old back, 'or is it my own?' he dared to think, and then he felt the presumed arthritis in her gnarled hands, and then the ache of decades—no … centuries—of hard work. 

'I must call Grandmama as soon as I can, and let her know that I'm okay and that I love her,' he thought in his heart of hearts.

He had to look away before he burst into tears.

Higher up the bank, on a road or a path, were seen a few adult men—some walking, some riding bicycles or the occasional motorbike, but most were riding their asses [donkeys].

These people were some of the poorer folk of Egypt, but they seemed to be happy with their simple life.

Gerry turned away from the pleasing but melancholy scene, meaning to rejoin Ted and Muti in their cheerful banter, seemingly enjoying the strong Egyptian coffee.  He was with them in person, but his mind and heart were elsewhere.

A couple of hours later they approached the Esna Locks.  They were the fifth boat in line, waiting to pass through.  Allowing only one cruise ship at a time, it would take somewhere between two and three hours to complete, first a ship was raised to go south, then another ship was lowered to go north.

The homes along the west bank were beautiful in their simplicity, but the outstanding things to Gerry were the flamboyant, brilliant trees scattered along the riverfront road.  He had seen them on Paradise Island in the Caribbean, and during a weekend trips to Acapulco, Mexico, and Miami, Florida.  He had learned that, around the world, they were known by different names:  the Royal Poinciana, the Coral Tree, the African Flame Tree and, appropriately at this season, the Australian Christmas Tree.  Absolutely beautiful.

While they waited in cue near the 'sea wall' on the west bank, several vendors appeared near the boat.  They were selling tablecloths and other dining linens, beautifully patterned in bright colors and motifs.

One vendor called to Gerry and Ted and Muti, and threw a tablecloth and six matching napkins to them in a plastic bag.  Looking at the regular four-deck cruise ship in front of them, they saw other vendors tossing the packages up to the top, observation deck.  If anyone were interested, they'd open the package, inspect the goods, and yell down a bid.

Gerry opened the package and pulled out the large, basically white Egyptian cotton tablecloth, with bright red, yellow, orange, green, and blue water fowl motif border.

"They're beautiful!" remarked Ted, as he examined a couple of the napkins.  "What's the phrase for 'How much'?" he asked Muti.

" 'Kahm', but don't settle for the first price.  Bargain!" Muti instructed.

"KAHM?" Ted called out to the vendor.

A price, in Egyptian Pounds, was yelled across the way.

"'Keteer … too much," Muti said quietly.

"KETEER!" Ted called, shaking his head.

A lower price was given.

"Still too much," said Muti.

"KETEER!" called Ted again, repackaging the napkins.

"KETEER!" called Gerry, repackaging the tablecloth.

Yet another lower price was given when The Luxor began to inch its way forward as another cruise ship entered the lock.  The vendor ran along the narrow boardwalk, keeping pace with The Luxor, and being careful not to fall into the churning river.

"Give me the package," Muti requested.  Once it was in his hand, he repeatedly pointed his finger to the vendor and yelled, " 'KETEER GHALI' … TOO MUCH EXPENSIVE!"  Before the vendor could say anything else, Muti tossed the package across the narrow ribbons of water and concrete.  He turned to walk away from the deck railing;  Gerry and Ted followed him, but only for a couple of steps.  The vendor was yelling a still lower price.

Gerry, Ted, and Muti looked back and forth at each other;  Muti barely nodded his head.

Looking disgusted, Ted paused for effect, staring across at the vendor, and finally yelled, " 'MASHI, MASHI,' … OKAY, OKAY."

With a front tooth missing, the vendor grinned a stupid smile, and held up a smaller, EMPTY, plastic bag, and said something in Arabic.  Then he stuffed it in the bag with the linens and tossed it back on board.

"What did he say?" Gerry asked Muti.

"He said to put the money in the little bag and throw it back."

As Gerry was pulling the money from his wallet, Gerry nodded at the vendor and caught the purchase.  He then looked at Muti and asked, "What'll happen if the money falls in the river?"

"He'll just jump in after it," Muti said with a chuckle.  "They do it all the time."

Soon, the vendor had his money, but just as he caught it, two tourist policemen on bikes came along and, in Arabic, of course, told him to be on his way.  Sorta like a California cop giving a driver a warning.

With lots of nods and bowing, the vendor ran back, picked up his other wares, and hurriedly left the riverbank.  The policemen waved back to the threesome.

"Kinda cute, aren't they—the policemen?" Gerry asked, to no one in particular.

"Well … I guess so," Ted replied, "if you like those big bulges hangin' down their tight and white pant legs."

Muti blushed.

Day 11:  December 23

The boats and ships berthed at the village of Esna for the night, and after breakfast the following morning with the McAllister brothers … AND the four men-in-gray at another table … it was off-boat to see the beautifully preserved Temple of Khnum, an Egyptian temple built by the Greeks and Romans.

http://touregypt.net/featurestories/templekhnum.htm

Then, in the afternoon, Gerry, Ted, and Muti boarded a motor-launch and were soon touring the Temple of Isis, which would soon be moved by UNESCO to the man-made island of Philae. 

That temple and the Temples of Abu Simbel, and twenty-two other temples were in the process of being moved to higher ground because of the building of the new Aswan High Dam.  Once completed, Lake Nasser (named in honor of the then current President Nasser) would completely cover the temples, and they would be lost to the world forever were it not for the monumental task that would eventually take ten years to complete.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Nasser

http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/Philae.htm

Later that evening, The Luxor and the main ship came to life again and, while the tourists slept, continued upriver to Edfu.

Day 12:  December 24

Christmas Eve morning found Gerry particularly joyous. It was the day he'd waited for, for the past twenty-three, twenty-four some-odd years since he'd first seen the National Geographic photograph of the god Horus, a twelve-foot-tall granite statue, standing outside the entrance to His temple.  He was the third member of the ancient Egyptian Trinity—Father Osiris, Mother Isis, and their Son Horus.

That was the day that Gerry would see the Falcon god with his own eyes—Horus, sometimes depicted with a human body, sometimes depicted with the body of the falcon itself.

'Don't we Christians have our own sacred symbol of Peace—the Dove?' Gerry had asked himself for more than two decades?  "Today 's the day," he mumbled to no one but himself.

"What'd you say?" Ted asked, walking out of the bathroom after having finished shaving.  Muti, following Ted, looked at Gerry with a confused expression.

"Oh, nothing," Gerry replied.  I was just thinking about today's tour.  I've been wanting for this for so long." 

Though the threesome were inside the stateroom, Gerry's eyes and imagination peered through the walls of the boat, and up the small hill to the temple that caused the joy in his heart to rise.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Edfu

After breakfast aboard the main ship with the other hundred and twenty tourists, the threesome latched onto Tariq Pasha and his group of thirty others.

The McAllister brothers, Wayne ("Mamba") and Willie ("Wee-Wee") went with another group of thirty, and Waldo ("Froggy") and Waylan ("Spanky") went with yet a third group.  And, as it turned out, there were five or six 'men-in-gray' with each group.

"Who ARE these guys in their gray outfits, Muti?" Ted asked.

Muti didn't answer at first, but seemed to be thinking of JUST the right answer.  "Ohhh, I hear … they're a group of … Sudanese … mystics … who will … LEAVE the tour … after we visit … Abu Simbel…"

"Who told you that?" Ted continued to ask questions.

"Well … nobody told me … EXACTLY … but I overheard Tariq Pasha and one of the other tour guides talking about them.

"They're weird!  And they don't say anything to anyone."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, Ted, but doesn't your Christian religion have priests who take an oath of silence?  Maybe these men…"

"Not priests, Muti.  They're monks, but I don't know too much about them—I'm not Roman Catholic.  I can't imagine not talking to anyone, and always praying, or whatever, even when doing their menial work—gardening, gathering eggs, preparing food, scrubbing floors, polishing bells … you know?"

"I'd rather polish something else," Muti said with a grin, gazing at the little mound in Ted's trousers, a mound that suddenly began to grow.

"Now, now!" Ted rebuked, tugging at the inner thighs of his pants.  "Don't go getting me turned on just before the tour."

Muti chuckled.

Having walked up the hill with Ted and Muti and Tariq Pasha's group of sightseers, Gerry was excited more than he could remember.  Finally, at last, he could see the granite statue.  He literally ran to the statue, gently caressed it with his hands, kissed it, and lay his cheek upon it's stony tail feathers.

Quickly, a Tourist Policeman was there.  "Step away, please.  No one is allowed to touch the antiquities."

Gerry did as ordered.  "I've been wanting to touch this statue since I was thirteen years old," he said, trying to excuse his actions.

"Look … but don't touch … anything," the policeman said again.

"Yes, sir," Gerry said.  "Can I take a picture of it?"

"All you want," the man waved his hand, indicating anything around the temple.  "But no flash pictures in any of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings.  The bright light fades the ancient paint on the walls."

The tour group had gathered around, watching the goings on.

"As you've just heard… " Tariq Pasha spoke loudly to the group, " … you're not allowed to touch anything in the temple—as Gerry, here, has just demonstrated."  The crowd laughed and Gerry acted as if he were embarrassed.  "If everyone were to touch any of the statues or other stone-work," Tariq continued, "the oil on their fingers would, over time, cause deterioration.  Now … we don't want that, do we?"

He went on with his spiel.  "This is the Temple of Horus, built by the Ptolemys between 237 BC and 57 BC.  It is the best preserved ancient temple in Egypt, and the second largest after the Temple of Karnak."

http://www.egyptologyonline.com/ptolemies.htm

He then led them through the first pylon into the courtyard and guided them around the right side exterior wall.

Among the many hieroglyphs and sculptures (done in intaglio—sunken-relief) on nearly every inch of the temple, was a huge profiled carving of the god, Min, with his over-sized phallus protruding straight out to the right side.  Some older ladies covered their eyes in embarrassment and hurried on to another area as if the carving did not exist, but most of the younger members of the group, definitely including Gerry and Ted, took numerous photos of the figure.

Leaving the courtyard and passing through the entrance to the Hypostyle Hall, Tariq continued to lead his group along the right side.  There were other groups in front of and behind them, as well as several groups along the left wall.

Heads were turning this way and that, trying to absorb as much of the ancient beauty as possible. 

The walls were frequently broken by open passageways into small rooms—some dark, some lighted from within.

Gerry had begun to feel a strange familiarity with this space.  And that feeling grew and grew.

On the left side of the hall, and between the columns, Gerry kept glancing toward one darkened doorway.  It beckoned to him stronger and stronger, the more he realized that Tariq would NOT be taking the group near it. 

He worked his way through the group, and said to Tariq, "That room over there…" he pointed, "…I've got to go in there.  Am I permitted to go over there?" he asked.

"Why?"

"I don't know.  I've been catching glimpses of that dark doorway, and something's pulling me toward it.  I've GOT to go inside that room, Tariq.  PLEASE!"  Gerry was almost begging.

Tariq announced the change to the group, and soon, Gerry and Ted and the others followed Tariq into the room after he had flicked a light switch.

Gerry gasped.  "Oh, my God!" he uttered in a loud whisper.  His hands and arms and, eventually, his entire body began shaking as he looked around.

Immediately, Ted and Muti, each, put an arm around his back to steady him.  Tariq rushed to him and put his hands on Gerry's shoulders.  "Are you okay?  What's wrong, Gerry?"

Several in the group gathered 'round to see what was going on.  Without waiting for an answer, Tariq instructed the rest of the group to go on into the Hypostyle Hall.  "But stay together," he said.  "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

Just then, Tariq saw Rashad, another tour guide, leading his group.

"Rashad!" he called, and the guide came to him.  "One of my group is sick.  Can you keep my people with yours for a while?

After the brief arrangements were made, Rashad took charge of the two groups, and Tariq returned to Gerry.

"What happened, Gerry?"

Gerry was calmly looking around the small room—maybe only twelve feet square, but about four stories tall, built of perfectly cut limestone blocks, the seams of which were still as smooth as any master mason's.

From the stone floor up to about four feet high, were hundreds, if not thousands, of small hieroglyphic inscriptions, all the way around the room.  Above that, were two solid lines, with what seemed like gold flecks in them—perhaps the lines had been completely covered in gold leaf at some distant time?  And above that, all the way up to and across the ceiling, were countless other sunken-relief carvings of men and gods with hints of the original red, yellow, green, and blue paint;  the higher ones were stained with smoke—probably from torches.

Gerry knelt in front of some hieroglyphics and, contrary to what he had been told, he lovingly laid his hands on the wall, then let his right index finger trace the outlines of the carvings.

"Gerry!" Tariq said in a warning tone.

"I know.  I know, Tariq," Gerry said, apologizing with a nod of his head.  But then he stood up and started dashing about the room, barely touching the aged and worn and faded figures of men and gods and began of each scene.  Ted and Muti just stood there—their mouths agape with disbelief.

"What's going on?  I've never seen anyone react the way you are," Tariq said.

Gerry looked up toward the top of the wall, and said, "I've been here before…"

"When?" Ted asked.

"Yes, when?" Muti echoed.  "I thought you'd never been to Egypt before."

"About two thousand years ago," Gerry answered seriously.  "I used to work here … in this very room … in another lifetime … right after this part of the temple was built.  I'm home, really home, for the first time in my life … in THIS life."  Tears of happiness began running down his cheeks.  He held his arms straight out to the sides and spun around and around in glee.  Then he stopped and suddenly looked around the stone floor.

Tariq slid his arms around Gerry and pulled him against himself.  "And just what did you do in this room, Gerry?" he inquired.

Gerry quieted his tears and pulled away, then silently looked further about for a moment.  "My table was here," he said, indicating with his index fingers the dimensions of the table in the middle of the room.  "I mixed herbs and oils—oils from the earth, from animals, and from seeds.  Yes, that's right;  I ground seeds, getting the oils from them;  I ground nuggets of gold and silver and copper and other metals and rocks … I think one of them was what we know today to be sulfur …"  He ran the tip of his tongue around his lips.  "Yes, I can even taste it on my lips right now.  I ground them into powders, and then I made medicines …" he paused, "… and salves … and cosmetics … right here in this room.  Many men came and offered their seed to be used in the soothing salves," he added as just an aside, nodding his head.  He was deadly serious, even though Ted and Muti chuckled, and Tariq Pasha smiled.  Gerry felt that Tariq understood and accepted what he was saying.

"And how were you dressed?" Tariq continued his questions.

"Every day, I was shaved from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, by minor priests of the temple—didn't want any stray hairs getting in the medicine," he made a little joke, laughing for the first time since the walk up the hill, "and every day, I bathed in the Sacred Lake … uhhh … right … over … … … THERE!" he pointed to an area a short distance to the north-east.  "It's not been excavated or unearth yet," he added, but then continued where he had been sidetracked.  "And I just wore a simple white kilt-like thing, and sandals with laces that came up almost to the knees."

Ted was standing there, his mouth still hanging open, probably not believing a thing Gerry had been saying, while Tariq and Muti glanced at each other frequently, each barely nodding his head.

"You've seen pictures of this room and the priests who worked here, haven't you?" Tariq asked.

"No," Gerry answered honestly.  "I didn't know anything about this room until I noticed the dark doorway from outside, just a few minutes ago, but I knew I had to come in here."

"Gerry…" Tariq said in all seriousness, "… everything you've said can be verified in the inscriptions … somewhere … within this temple.  Now, do you remember what your name was?"

Muti smiled, but Ted looked at Gerry in disbelief.

'Maybe THIS is Gerry's destiny,' Muti thought, and not …'  He wouldn't allow his thoughts to go there.

"Nooooo," Gerry pensively answered Tariq's question, but slowly glanced around at the inscriptions as if he were looking for something. 

Suddenly, he froze in position and said the name, "Iatia … not the Yiddish name, 'Yasha', but e-AH-sha."  He was grinning, and then the smile faded as he stepped closer to the wall, bent down a little, and pointed to an insignificant hieroglyphic scratching in one corner, just under the double lines.  "That's where I scribbled my name."

Tariq moved to get a closer view.  "By Allah," by exclaimed; " as many times as I've been in this room, I never noticed that little cartouche! 'e-ah-sha'!," he sounded out the ancient hieroglyphs.  "That is exactly what is inscribed."

Tariq would remember what happened in that room on that day, and someday, somehow, if the ancient gods would permit it, he would help Gerry return to the Temple of Horus.

<><><> 

Aboard the main cruise ship that night, there was a Christmas Eve celebration with the American staples:  Christmas tree and lights, fruitcake, and eggnog with Puerto Rican Rum.  They sang Christmas carols with piano accompaniment by one of the tourists himself.  The warm spirit of the holiday pervaded the festivities, and a few presents were exchanged between some of the travelers.

"I've got something for you back in the stateroom, lover," Gerry whispered to Ted.

"And I've got something for you, too," Ted echoed the promise.

"What is it?" Gerry teased, "Something about six-and-a-half inches long?"

"That's for later.  Let's go."

And off they went, back to the stateroom aboard The Luxor.

Muti, being Muslim, had been asked to allow them some privacy for the night.  Perhaps he could spend the night with Tariq and  Rashad?  He agreed.

As soon as Gerry and Ted returned to the stateroom, they exchanged the little boxes—one purchased at the jewelry shop next to the tattoo artist's, and one purchased at another shop while Ted and Muti went to the bazaar.

They opened their gifts, and both were the same item— beautiful two-and-a-inch long by one-and-a-quarter-inch wide gold Ankhs that looked like they had been fashioned from nuggets of the precious metal.  They laughed at the coincidence that frequently happens between lovers.  Then they hugged and kissed, their tongues again dueling for entrance into the other's mouth.

Off came the clothes, off came the duvet and top sheet, and Gerry and Ted brought each other to the edge of sexual bliss countless times before satisfying each other completely.  They fell asleep in each other's arms.

Day 13:  December 25

Their first Christmas together.  In a foreign country, far away from home.  Alone.  And they couldn't be happier.

Without their sidekick, Muti, Gerry and Ted returned to the Temple of Horus and they slowly walked through the areas they'd missed the day before and took too, too many pictures.  Gerry just could not get enough of the joy of being "home" once again. 

Ted didn't understand it all, but he knew that Gerry was happier than he'd ever seen him.  And it seemed that Tariq and Muti had understood and … perhaps? … had believed that Gerry had been there before … some twenty centuries earlier. 

How else did Gerry know about the scratched cartouche of his own 'name'?  And how else had he known that the reliefs right next to the inside of the doorway had depicted surgical instruments (he told what most of them were used for) and pharmaceutical implements (mortar and pestle, and pill counting spatulas)?

They had lunch at one of the grand nineteenth century hotels across the river from the temple, then returned to The Luxor and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening making slow, sweet, passionate love until they finally fell asleep, completely satiated and drained, again in each other's arms.

Not once did either of them think of Y'An.

Day 14:  December 26

When they awoke the following morning, wearing nothing but their matching Ankh-and-gold-chain necklaces, Muti had returned from wherever, and had just entered the stateroom with breakfasts for all three:  eggs over easy on top of what looked like corned-beef-hash, toasted English muffins (NO butter), orange marmalade, both coffee AND that delicious hibiscus tea and grits.  Yes … grits!  Surely, the Egyptians thought ALL Americans ate grits.

Being a 'free day', no tours were scheduled, so the three decided to walk around the little village of Edfu.  More little shops.  More street vendors.  Gerry bought a little black statue of Anubis, the Jackal, god of the Underworld and Embalming.  He also found and purchased the board game, 'Jackals and Hounds', said to be the game that Pharaoh Seti I and Princess Nefertari, who later became the Great Royal Wife of Pharaoh Rameses II, played.  Ted found an ebony and camel-bone Chess set. 

The shopkeeper wouldn't sell the black onyx and white ivory set to Americans, since it was illegal to take anything made of ivory back to the States.  It was a unique set—the camel-bone pieces depicted different gods of ancient Egypt, and the ebony pieces represented Pharaoh, and his royal court and soldiers.

Back at The Luxor, Ted and Gerry played several games and tried to teach Muti the many moves of the different pieces on the chess board, but he finally succeeded in teaching them the simple moves of the jackals and hounds.

But the games they—the three of them—loved the most were the ones they invented while penetrating different orifices in bed for most of the late evening.

Day 15:  December 27

In the early morning hours before Ra emerged from the Underworld for another day's circuit of the heavens, the main engines of The Luxor rumbled to life again, turning the paddle wheels, which pulled the boat farther upriver.  By noon, it had docked once again, this time for a little side-trip tour of more antiquities.

It was an easy day … and a relatively small temple, also built during the Ptolemaic Period, but a very strange temple, indeed—the Temple of Kom Ombo.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Kom_Ombo

It was called a 'double temple' in that every part of the right side of the building was duplicated in mirrored reflection on the left … everything, that is, except for the statuary and hieroglyphics.

The right (south) side of the temple was dedicated to the crocodile god, Sobek, while the left (north) side was dedicated to the falcon god, Horus.

Much of the temple had been destroyed by the annual flooding of the Nile and the rare earthquake.  Perhaps that part of the planet could not take the constant quarreling of the two opposing gods?

Attempts had been made in the late 1800's to repair it, but still, much of the damage could be seen.

Back to The Luxor and a leisurely cruise to their last port of call—Aswan, which they would not reach until the following morning—or sometime during the night when they were sleeping.

With Gerry and Ted lounging on the bow deck of The Luxor,  Muti was standing rail-side, watching the west bank.  "Look, guys … little tombs right along the bank!" he called out to them, breaking their quiet smooching session.  "Oh … sorry.  Didn't mean to break up anything."

"No problem," Gerry and Ted said, chuckling.  They got up and went over to the starboard railing next to Muti.

One after another, there must have been at least twenty beautifully crafted small mausoleums, most faced with gray granite, but a few with red, built right into the steep bank along the river's edge.

"Who were those built for?" Gerry asked.

"I don't know," Muti answered;  "I've heard a lot of different stories—none definitive.  But most of the stories about these little tombs…" he waved his hand in their direction, "… say that they are tombs of some of the higher-up stone workers who cut blocks of granite for the pyramids or who cut the obelisks from the quarries.  You know, the pink granite that was used in the King's Chamber of the Great Pyramid came from the southern quarry at Aswan?  That's about a five hundred mile trip by river!"

"Good Lord!" Ted exclaimed.  "How the hell did they get those huge blocks there?  And across the rapids at Esna?  We came through the locks;  they didn't have those then; did they?"

"No, they sure didn't," Muti replied.  "It's all speculation, but tomorrow we'll be in Aswan, and I want to show you something."

"What?" Gerry asked.

Muti grinned and said, "Just … wait!", and then he used his fingers to indicate that he was zipping his lips.

"I'll unzip those lips for ya," Gerry smirked.

"Promises, promises," is all that Muti said, grinning.

Day 16:  December 28

With four days of sightseeing in Cairo and twelve days visiting temples and tombs and other ruins along the Nile, one's mind becomes a little befuddled.  Though each is entirely different, the old saying, 'Once you've seen one, you've seen them all,' takes on an entirely different meaning.

There was so much to see, so much to absorb, and so little time to do it, Gerry began forgetting what was where and when.

The Luxor had steamed upriver and berthed at Aswan, sometime during the night.  Another 'free day' for personal time, for shopping around another town—actually a relatively new city that was growing by leaps and bounds, and with lots of 'eye-candy' for the threesome.

With President Nasser's agreement with UNESCO, The new Aswan High Dam had been under construction for the past five years, and the completion date proposed for five more years thence.

Builders and big, strong, butch construction workers who seemingly always worked half-naked in the face of the Egyptian Sun God, had come to work on the project from nearly every country on the planet.  Nasser had ordered the building of simple, but completely modern in all aspects, homes, shops, theaters, a soccer field, and, of necessity, the Aswan Airport (ASW).  The old village had nearly been replaced;  very little of it remained.

But with a 'free day' at hand, Muti arranged for a motor-launch to take Gerry and Ted to the western side of the river.  They climbed the steep hillside of a quarry to see the Unfinished Obelisk that had been commissioned by Queen Hatshepsut of the Eighteenth Dynasty (1479 BC – 1457 BC), some 3,400 years earlier.  Had it been finished, it would have been about 137 feet tall, with a weight of 1,168 tons of red granite—the largest obelisk in the world, then or now!  Originally, it was destined to be transported down the Nile and erected at the Temple of Karnak.

But such was not to be the case.  During its hewing from the top of the granite hill, the massive obelisk split in two, making it useless to continue the work.

But Gerry and Ted saw it, walked atop the length of it (which would have been one of the four sides), and enjoyed the breathtaking view of the rising Lake Nasser to the south, the entire city of Aswan, and the calm river itself, flowing northward to Luxor, Cairo, and eventually the Mediterranean.

<><><> 

Back in town, Muti took them to another bazaar, and left them to their own mischief.  "Now be careful," he said.  "The shopkeepers may tell you that the statues and other artifacts are from ancient tombs, but believe me … they're not!  If you find anything you can't live without, bargain for it, but don't pay more than half the asking price."

"You're not staying with us?" Ted asked.

"I can remember when you guys didn't want me staying in your room at the Ramses Hilton," Muti replied, squinting his eyes while they laughed.  "I've got something I have to do … and it's not what you're thinking, Gerry, so don't look at me that way."

"Yes, Sir," Gerry said, giving a mock salute.

With a snicker, Muti was off to … to WHEREVER.  "See you guys later, back on board The Luxor," he said, waving as he walked away.

"Hey … what time?" Gerry called out, but with the din of machinery, bulldozers, pile drivers, and workers yelling at each other in different languages, he wasn't heard.

"Wonder where he disappears to from time to time," Ted wondered aloud.

"Who knows?" Gerry answered.  "Probably reporting back to … you know who."

<><><> 

They finished their shopping, or rather, their non-shopping, as they didn't buy anything except for a six-pack of Stella, Egypt's most popular beer, and returned to the main ship for lunch.

Then, they walked back to The Luxor, spent about a half-hour having fun in the shower, watched the hunky workers through a pair of binoculars they had, and returned to the sun-lounges with just towels wrapped around their waists.  They moved two of the lounges as close to the portside railing as possible to get the full benefit of the westward sun, and also, so that they could sunbathe in the nude and not be seen by anyone walking along the boardwalk on top of the low embankment behind them.

As soon as they lay on the lounges, the towels came undone, and in no time, their cocks began to grow.

"Now, this is more like it," Ted said, taking a swig from a warm bottle of the Stella, "my lover, the sun, and a good brew." 

Gerry, too, took a swig from his own bottle.  "Yep," he replied, holding out his hand.

Ted  placed his hand in Gerry's and they smiled at each other.  They blew kisses at each other, and as Gerry reached over to play with Ted's left nipple, Ted reached over to play with Gerry's right one.  They both watched the other's erections jerk;  pearls of clear, sweet fluid began oozing forth.

Gerry poured a little of his beer into Ted's bellybutton, set the beer down on the deck, leaned over and lapped it up, Ted's cock bounced against his cheek.  As Gerry turned his head to grab the drippy love stick, the glass slider to their stateroom opened.

"Oops!  Can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?" Muti asked.  "Want to be alone?  Want company?" he teased.  "Look what I got for you."  He was holding up a bottle of sunscreen lotion.

"You scared the shit outta me," Gerry said, "but maybe you can make yourself useful," he added, laying back with his fingers interlaced behind his head, his and Ted's cocks dancing to the titillating images in their heads—the ones on top of their shoulders.

"That would be my pleasure," Muti said, wriggling his eyebrows.  He then separated the lounges so that he could kneel between.  Hiking up the bottom of his galabeyah, he knelt down, pulled the galabeyah over his head, tossed it aside and said, "Don't want to get this stained."  He, too, had become erect, and with his movements, he never touched it—just let it flop around, wherever it wanted to.

Then he squeezed a glob of the oily cream in one hand, put the bottle down, and rubbed his hands together.  The lovers were smiling as they watched him.  Then, with his left hand on Ted's chest, and his right hand on Gerry's, he began his sexy massage on their pecs, paying particular attention to the nipples.

Then, he worked their faces, arms, and upper bodies as well as he could, and when that was done, he squirted streams of the lotion on their lower chests, their bellies and their legs, and returned to the sensual massage.

Their cocks were jerking, pulsing, leaking their clear, sweet nectar, and Muti had touched neither them nor the tight, squirming sacks beneath.

It was only then that Muti squeezed some more lotion on their pubic areas.  He rubbed it in, all around, and then slowly, seductively, he stroked them both, simultaneously, up and down, up and down, ever so softly, ever so slowly.

"Faster, Muti;  faster," they both begged.  "Make us cum," they pleaded in unison.

After each up-stroke, Muti squeezed and teased Gerry's naked glans as he gently pulled back Ted's foreskin and likewise squeezed and teased Ted's.

Ted was biting the back of his own hand, to keep from screaming out, and Muti's knees were getting sore from the plank decking.

He speeded up, stroking them both, harder and faster, faster and harder.

When they finally came—all over their chests and each other's—Muti also shot … but onto the decking.

Day 17:  December 29

Another 'free day', and Muti took Ted and Gerry back up to another section of the hill, to the Tombs of the Nobles with some of the finest art work in all of Egypt, probably because fewer tourists visit them than the more famous Valleys of the Kings and Queens near Luxor.

That evening, aboard the main cruise ship, was the long-awaited-for Galabeyah party.  Many of the tourists on the cruise ship had rented galabeyahs (plain white, cream, brown, or black for the gents, and more vibrant-colored ones with intricate embroideries  for the ladies), or belly-dancing outfits (for the younger, slimmer ladies, of course, but no such rented outfits for Gerry and Ted.

After a much-needed shower to rid themselves of airborne sand and dust sticking to the sun lotion and dried semen, just before the party, Muti reached under the bed and pulled out a plain, brown paper bag.

"What's that?" Ted asked.

"Yeah;  what's that?" came Gerry's echoed question.

"Remember yesterday when I went off by myself and left you to your own ... mischief …" Muti began with a teasing but accusatory tone, "and I came back with the sun-screen lotion?"

"Yeah," they both answered, nodding their heads.

"Well …" Muti continued, "that's not all I got."

Gerry and Ted were now intrigued.

Muti reached in the and pulled out a small gold and white man's linen kilt, like the one that Gerry had talked about in the Temple of Horus.  He handed it to Ted.  "This is for you," Muti said, "and these, too."  He reached in again and pulled out two one-size-fits-all gold-tone armbands with sunken-relief hieroglyphics, and the likeness of the fertility god, Min, on each.  And then, simple sandals, befitting his new position.  "You're going to the Galabeyah Party as a royal slave.

Holding up the small kilt, Ted exclaimed, "You gotta be shittin' me!  I ain't wearin' this to no PUBLIC party."

"Oh, yes you are, lover, and I so order it," Gerry rebutted his excuse.  Muti snickered.

"And these are for you, Gerry."  First out of the bag came some white doeskin lace-up boots.

"They're beautiful!  Thank you," he said, approaching Muti to hug him.

But Muti paid no attention to his advances.  Out of the bag came another garment—a white and gold galabeyah that looked vaguely familiar, but Gerry couldn't place where he'd seen it.

"And along with that…" he pulled out a white gutra headdress and a gold agal chord to hold the gutra in place.

"Oh, Muti, you shouldn't have."  Again Gerry went to hug him, but Muti held up his hand and, looking at them both, he said to both, "Put them on … with NO underwear!"

"You ain't getting' me to any PUBLIC party in this little tiny skirt without underwear on!!!"

"OH, YES, WE ARE!" came Gerry and Muti's joint response.

Ted was outnumbered, two to one.  What could he do but obey?

"Gorgeous!  Sexy!  And ohhhhh, so desirable," Gerry said to Ted, after his lover had donned Muti's present.

"Tonight, you'll be groped and manhandled more than you realize, by both, women AND men.  You'll learn how a REAL slave feels on the selling-block," Muti said, "and every INCH of you will enjoy it," he unmercifully teased.

"Awww, shit!" said Ted.

"And now, Gerry, for the … how do the French say it? … 'la pièce de résistance', … a white gauzy Bisht—a copy of the cloak or over garment that Lawrence of Arabia wore in that scene you mentioned several days ago."

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic!" Ted remarked and then asked, "Where did you find it?"

"I didn't FIND it," Muti answered.  "I had it custom-made."

"When did you order it?" Gerry asked.

"I had a … a friend … make it while I waited.  He made it to fit me.  I guessed that it would fit you since we're about the same size.

"Thank you, Muti.  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome.  Now, I'm going over to the main ship—I'll be helping to serve drinks and finger-foods—and we'll see you in about a half-hour.  That'll give everyone else time to get there so that you two can make your grand entrance."

"You're a rascal, you know that, Muti?  But we love you," Ted said.

"And I've come to love both of you," Muti said with a touch of sadness in his voice.

"What's wrong, buddy?  You sound as if you're about to cry," Ted said.

Looking down at the floor for a moment in total silence,  Muti lifted his head and, looking at Ted, said, "The day after tomorrow, you guys will be leaving Egypt, and…" he looked at Gerry and then said, "… I'll probably never see you again."

The three embraced and kissed each other.  Nothing else could be said.

Muti turned and rushed from the stateroom.

<><><> 

Exactly one-half-hour later, Ted, in his small kilt, sandals, and armbands entered through the doors to the clubroom on the third deck of the main ship.  The Egyptian combo stopped playing, and Ted raised his voice and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen … 'El Aurenz' … Lawrence of Arabia."

When Gerry entered, the Bisht billowing behind, he reminded many older guests of Loretta Young's grand entrances of every one of her shows.  Quickly, the crowd broke into applause and stood if they were not already standing.

Tariq Pasha rushed over and shook, first, Ted's hand, and then, gave Gerry a full body hug and whispered, "You're the only one here who looks authentic."  He knelt in front of Gerry and kissed the tops of his feet.  Then, he rose and salaamed, and then said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Welcome, El Aurenz," in English, in Arabic, and in Coptic, the supposed language of ancient Egypt.

Gerry bowed his head … and blushed.  And the band played on.

A nearly naked 'slave' approached Gerry and Ted with a tray of Champagne and empty glasses and bottles of Soda Water.  Behind him, another 'slave' appeared, carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres, wearing nothing but a brown leather cord riding very low on his hips, two pieces of white cotton—maybe four inches wide and six or eight inches long—hanging from the cord, one piece ALMOST covering his naked penis, and the other piece ALMOST covering his ass-crack, and of course, he was still wearing his dark brown 'dog collar'.

"Don't touch me or even get close to me," he whispered between Ted and Gerry.  "You do, and I'll go hard in an instant!"

From behind Gerry and Ted, Tariq had overheard the whispered request, and all three of them began laughing.

During the course of the evening's festivities,  Muti's 'services' were requested—and provided—in the men's restroom.

"Seven in all," Muti told Ted and Gerry, once back in the stateroom.  "After the first five, I could feel their sticky cum sliding down my legs."

"WHAT?  WHO?" they demanded to know.  Gerry and Ted were grinning, as the three showered before bed.

"One old guy told me to follow him.  When we got in the restroom, he bent me over the vanity, lifted my little back cloth, and rammed his … very nice and very hard … cock in my ass;  THAT surprised me … at his age.  Then another older man came in, and when he saw what was happening, he started rubbing the bulge in his pants … a very NICE bulge, I noticed.  He then asked … very politely … if he could use my mouth.  Well, what could I say? … he was so nice."

Gerry and Ted were enthralled with Muti's tale.  They laughed.  "Yes, yes.  And…?  And…?"  By now, there was a three-way jack-off session going on in the shower, or maybe it was coming off.  Who could tell?  And when?

"After a few minutes, I felt the first guy cum in my ass just as a good looking, thirty-something guy came in.  When the first guy pulled out, the young guy—without asking—took his place.  It hurt a little at first, but then I really started getting into it … and let me tell you … he REALLY got into it," Muti said as he slapped his naked, shower-wet ass.  "And when the first guy left—without even a 'thank you', I might add—you'll never guess who else came in."

"Who?  Who?"  Gerry and Ted sounded like a couple of owls as three soapy fists flew up and down three rampant, throbbing, stiff rods of flesh in the hot shower.

"Tariq Pasha and that other guide, Rashad, I think his name is."

"What did THEY do?" Ted wanted to know.

"Well, the second old guy—the polite one—shot his load down my throat—he never really got hard, but I WAS able to pull the load out of him," he said with a twinkle in his eye.  "And when he pulled out—he even thanked me and then kissed me—but anyway … when HE pulled out,  Rashad—who had lifted his galabeyah and was stroking his own hard-on—walked over and ever-so-gently slid his cock in my mouth, and eventually down my throat.  He covered my head with the bottom of his galabeyah.  He was so gentle and easy, I had no trouble taking his Arab snake to the root.  I had my hands and arms around his butt, and he even let me set the rhythm and depth of his thrusts.  That was NICE!"

"And Tariq?" Gerry inquired.  "What did he do, standing there all alone?"

"Well good ol' Tariq Pasha got in the middle of it all."

"How do you mean?" Gerry asked.

"Well, he came over, with his long, thick, semi-hard monster sorta sticking out from under HIS raised galabeyah, and stood right next to me, with one hand gently rubbing my back, and the other hand moving his slick cock back and forth against my side.  Then he leaned over me and ran his tongue all over my back while he started jacking me off."

Gerry and Ted were panting at the vivid, erotic scene Muti was painting with words, both of them with their eyes closed and their hips thrusting their leaking cocks into … WHOSEVER hand was jacking THEM off.

"Go on;  I want to hear more," Ted struggled to say.

"Rashad was still using my throat like an expert … and I felt like an experienced sword-swallower!"

"Yeah, yeah!  Go on!" Gerry begged.

"Well … that thirty-something guy in my ass, finally erupted, and quickly pulled out and crawled underneath me and—with some difficulty, I'm sure—he began sucking me off.  And it was then that Tariq Pasha moved behind me.  He must have had some kind of jelly with him, 'cause I felt him put some on my asshole and he started finger-fucking me—first, with one thick finger, then two, then three.  I was fine up to that point, but when he started with the fourth, I REALLY started feeling the pain.  I thought he might be intent on fisting my poor ass, but he didn't—praise be to Allah!  But the fourth DID manage to get inside my ass, along with the other three."

"Then, did he fuck you?" Ted asked.

"After he withdrew his fingers, I felt him put the head of his cock against me … and he … slowly, but with determination … SHOVED that whole Arabian Stallion's ramrod right up my fuck chute—all in one slow thrust.  I've never felt so stuffed in all my life—and it hurt like hell.  At first."

"And then?" Gerry asked, now slowly jacking Muti, who was barely jacking Ted, who was moderately jacking Gerry.

"It didn't take long until it felt like Paradise, and I was one of the virgins.  That probe touched spots and rubbed my Aladdin's button like no other man has ever done."

"Thanks a lot," Gerry and Ted scoffed.

"Sorry, guys," Muti timidly apologized before he smiled and said, "but it's true.  And I think I learned something about myself because of Tariq Pasha."

"You learned that you're a—what we call in the States—a 'Size Queen'," Gerry said as he grabbed Muti's balls and squeezed in mock punishment, and then went back to jacking him.

Muti just let the comment pass.

"SO … WHAT HAPPENED THEN?" Ted almost screamed.

"THEN …" Muti continued once again, "while that one young guy's sucking me off, and I'm sucking Rashad off, Tariq Pasha sets up a slow, steady rhythm—all the way in—ohhh, such big, heavy balls slapping my ass, and I think, my sucker's chin—in and out, in and out, in and out, then faster and faster…" Muti's hips and man-of-steel cock were thrusting Gerry's fist as he was describing Tariq's thrusts, "… and he fired what felt like a gallon of his juice in my guts, and I shot into my sucker's mouth, and Rashad shot his sweet, creamy load down my throat!"

Needless to say, during Muti's last sentence, he and Ted and Gerry shot their loads on themselves, on each other, and all around the shower walls.  They had to hold each other up in a three-way hug for any of them to keep from collapsing.

After their breathing and heart rates returned to some sense of normality, Ted ventured to ask, "Any other interesting things happen to you at the party?  Let's see … two older men, a younger guy, and Tariq and Rashad—that's only five.  Didn't you say 'seven in all'?"

Now mumbling, Muti said, "I don't want to talk about it, now."

"Aww, come on," Gerry pleaded, "tell all!  You can't stop now."

"Come on, come on, come on," Ted begged, dropping to his knees with his mouth only an inch or two from Ted's dripping cock—dripping from the water of the shower, NOT from any internal testicular little factories, which, by the way, had nearly been emptied by the most recent, high-speed production.

"Well … if I must," Muti said, looking a little embarrassed.

"YOU MUST!!!" they screamed at him.

"Well … it was late in the evening;  many of the party-goers had already gone back to their rooms.  But back to what you want to hear … the other two were in their late thirties, early forties, I guess.  One, an archaeologist;  the other, a geologist, I found out.  Good lookers, too, I must say."  Muti paused, not wanting to go any further.

"You can't stop there.  Tell us everything," Ted ordered.

"They pulled me back into the men's room, looked around—no one else was in there at the time—one of them locked the door…"

"Yes!  Yes!"

"They yanked my little slave outfit off me, told me to lay down on the floor on my back, and then … then … they both pulled their galabeyahs over their heads and they were both completely naked…"

"Yeah.  Yeah."

"… and they both fucked me…"

Gerry and Ted were grinning like two hyenas.  "At the same time?  Wow!" Gerry exclaimed.  "You must've had a great time!"

"Well it took me a while to get hard, but while one rode my cock, the other sat on my face until I shot my load as they kissed and made out with each other."

"Sounds like a blast," Ted said.

With a disgusted look on his face, Muti continued.  "Then they switched places.  This time it took me a lot longer to get hard … but I did.  Those gals really knew how to get a guy turned on."

"GALS???" Gerry and Ted yelled.

"Yes.  All that pussy juice on my nose and mouth and cock … I felt sick to my stomach.  Yuck!  I wanted to puke!  But that's what a slave is trained to do."

Day 18:  December 30

It had been quite a long night, what with all the fun at the party, constantly fondling, goosing, groping, and teasing Ted and Muti mercilessly (but not overtly in sight of any fellow passengers, of course), and then all the fun they had in the shower after returning to The Luxor.  Gerry and Ted thanked God that Muti had showered and gargled before they all crawled into bed.

The noise of construction on the dam started early, waking the threesome.  Muti got up and made sure the doors and windows were shut.  He then climbed back in bed and the three pulled the pillows, sheets, and covers over their heads, but nothing seemed to block out the noise.

<><><> 

No tours had been planned as threats had been made against American tourists.  Archaeological sites had been closed.  Tourists were complaining about the changes in itineraries, but Ted and Gerry felt safe, so long as Muti was with them.

He finally agreed with them to hire a Falucca for a couple of hours.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Felucca

They and the two operators of the boat sailed over to Elephantine Island, the largest and most beautiful of the islands in the Nile.  Many artifacts and ruins are to be seen from the earliest days of Egypt, and even pre-Dynastic Egypt.  The gardens are said to be some of the most beautiful in the world.

http://www.touregypt.net/elephantine.htm

<><><> 

Finally bowing to the needs of the tourist industry, flights to Abu Simbel were allowed beginning the next day.  This, the threesome only learned after they returned to The Luxor.

More unwanted leisure time was on their hands.  More games of Chess, and Jackals and Hounds were played.

Gerry's tattoo was nearly healed, and no longer did he find it uncomfortable to lie on his back, with legs in the air, and be fucked at both ends at the same time.  Soon, he and Ted would no longer see Muti for 'God knows how long, or even if ever again,' they both thought.  Both Gerry and Ted wanted to absorb into their bodies as much of Muti's essence as he could pump.  After Muti deposited a load, they would either suck it out of the other's mouth, or suck as much as they could from the other's ass.

Muti was totally drained, and his penis was sore from all the friction and the occasional scrape of a tooth here and there.

But Ted and Gerry still had some spunk left in their balls.  With Muti on one side of the bed, they moved into a sixty-nine position on the other side, and for more than an hour, again and again they brought each other to the edge.  Then, with one final, deep thrust, their creamy, sweet lava erupted into each other's hungry throat.  They lay there, nursing on each other's deflating member, sucking out the last dribbles.

They, too, fell asleep.

Day 19:  December 31:  New Year's Eve

The desert can be awfully cold at night.

The glass slider to the bow deck had been left ajar, and there was a chill in the stateroom when the three awoke.

After their morning rituals, Gerry and Ted donned corduroy pants and lightweight sweaters.  They let Muti wear some of their warmer clothes rather than his thin, sheer white galabeyah. He didn't seem to be his chipper self—he seemed more distant … withdrawn.

At breakfast, in The Luxor's Dining Salon, when Ted asked him if he were all right, or if he felt he was coming down with something, Muti answered, "I don't want you to go to…"  He clipped off the rest of what he might have said.

"You don't want us to go … WHERE?" Ted asked.

Muti just looked at his two friends for a moment, gave a deep sigh, and said, "Tomorrow you'll fly back to Cairo, and the next day, you'll be going home."  His eyes were becoming glassy.  "I don't want you to go.  I've grown close to both of you.  VERY close."

It seemed they'd had this discussion just recently, so Gerry and Ted once again stated their warm sentiments, but let the subject drop.

After several moments of silence, Ted asked, "What time will we be leaving for the airport?"  He was referring to the flight down to Abu Simbel for the final tour of their 'honeymoon vacation'.

"We'll leave here in about half-an-hour—we'll be going by private car, not by bus like the people from the main ship will be taking.  That should give us plenty of time to get to Aswan Airport.  Then our own flight will take about an hour or a little less to get to Abu Simbel;  the others will take a commercial flight that'll take an hour."  Muti was once again starting to sound like a tour guide.

"PRIVATE CAR?  Our OWN flight?  THEIR flight?" Gerry asked, somewhat louder than was acceptable in the Dining Salon.  Ted shushed him, but he went on, albeit a little quieter.  "There can only be one reason for that, and that is your damn, fuckin'…"

"Now, stop it, Gerry!" Ted chastised.  "We've talked about this before.  If Y… uhhh … if HE wants to spend his money on us…"

"I don't CARE if he's got more money than God," Gerry was vehement in his rebuttal, "I just don't want … THAT man's involvement with us any more."  He pushed his chair back from the table and stood to leave.  "I'm going to check with Tariq and get us on the tour bus and the commercial flight like everyone else."

"Gerry…" Muti calmly spoke up, "there are no more seats available on either the bus OR the Egyptair flight."  Gerry harrumphed and turned toward the stateroom, but Muti went on.  "Please, Gerry, please, just accept his hospitality and generosity.  It's only for two more days, you know."

Without a word, Gerry headed back to the room.

"I'm sorry, Muti," Ted expressed his regret, standing to leave.  "I didn't know he felt so strongly about Y'An's kindness."

"It's all right, Ted;  it'll be over soon," Muti said, also standing.  "I think you should go and be with Gerry, and I'll go over to the main ship and see if something can't be done."

Ted went one way;  Muti went another.

In the stateroom, Gerry was stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling … thinking, pondering, cursing the man he KNEW was trying to take Ted away from him.

Ted moved to the side of the bed and stood there, looking down on Gerry.  "Muti's right, you know … only two more days and we'll be on our way back to Palm Springs, away from … from him!"

Gerry sat up and dropped his legs to the side of the bed.  "Something strange is going on, Ted.  Have you noticed that?"

"What?  What's going on?

"Muti.  He seems to know everything that's going on around us … before we do … how many seats are filled … when and where a PRIVATE car will be available … even a goddamned private AIRPLANE!  He never seems to carry any cash or credit cards, yet all—or MOST all—of our miscellaneous things are taken care of.  I just don't understand what's going on.  It's like we're playing parts in a play … without knowing what the outcome's going to be.  But HE knows … Muti knows.  He knows what's going to happen and when.  And I've got a feeling that we're being led like … like lambs to the slaughter…"

"Stop it, Gerry.  Stop it.  Your imagination's running wild.  Nothing bad's gonna happen, and soon, we'll be home.  Come here."  He reached over and pulled Gerry to his feet.  They kissed a chaste kiss, and then hugged each other … one final time.

Muti entered the stateroom, package in hand.  Ted and Gerry separated, and looked at him.

"What's in the bag?" Ted asked, trying to sound happy.

"This," he answered, pulling out a dark brown, woolen garment.  "It's too chilly for a summer-weight galabeyah."  He began stripping off the borrowed clothes and quickly was completely naked.  And flaccid.  This was not the time for any sexual escapades.  Just as quickly, he donned his new purchase.  "There," he said, rubbing his arms, "that's warmer."  Still, he wore his bare-footed, thong-like sandals.

For the next several minutes—at Muti's suggestion—the three began packing Gerry's and Ted's luggage, so they wouldn't have so much to do after returning from Abu Simbel and before hitting the sack prior to an early scheduled departure for Cairo the next morning.  They wouldn't be taking any luggage with them to the grandest tombs in all of Egypt, but the majority of the packing would be finished.

"You ready?" Muti asked.

"Yeah," Gerry answered.

"Yes," Ted likewise responded.

"Good.  Let's go," Muti suggested.

A couple of steps toward the stateroom door, Gerry stopped and said, "Wait!  We forgot something."  He dashed over to the desk and picked up the two gold Ankhs and their chains he and Gerry had exchanged Christmas Eve.  Looking at the different clasps, he said, "This one is yours, Ger—the one I gave you.  I've learned that the Ankh is the ancient symbol of long life and immortality.  Let me slip it over your head."

As Gerry bowed his head, Ted slipped it over and said, "When I gave it to you, I didn't know what the symbol meant, but now, Ger, my Love, I give you Life … for all Eternity."

Once more they kissed, but did not hug.

Gerry took the other Ankh and, as he slipped it over Ted's head, said, "Live long and prosper *, Sweetheart." 

Again they gave each other a quick kiss, which might have led to other things had not Muti said, "All right, you love birds, let's go."

The mood was brightened a little, and the three left the stateroom and The Luxor, and just as they reached the boardwalk along the top of the riverbank, the black limousine arrived.  Within a quarter-hour, they boarded a white Learjet 23 ** at ASW (Aswan Airport), and within minutes were airborne.

After circling the city of Aswan, the aircraft headed south, the sun shining in the portside windows. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Ted, peering out at the slowly rising Lake Nasser through the portside window.

"Yes," Gerry agreed.  "It's going to be a great benefit to the country, preventing the annual flooding and irrigating more of the suffocating desert."

"Yes," Muti added.  "We've been losing more and more of the lush, verdant Nile Valley every year to the encroaching of the desert.  Once the dam is complete, controlled irrigation will help stop the desert's thievery."

"But wasn't the annual flooding good for Egypt?" Ted asked.

Again, Muti answered.  "Before the dam—and this is actually the third and highest to be built—before the dam and back even before the Pharaohs, the annual flooding nourished this fertile valley, but during the floods, the farmers could not work.  They left the fields and became stonecutters and artisans and masons, building the stone monuments you see today.  The builders were NOT the slaves that you've heard about in the West.  They were paid, fed, and housed for their work.  It was hard work, but they were happy."

The conversation continued and when the Temple of Horus was mentioned, Gerry seemed to come alive as Y'An withdrew from his thoughts.  A relaxed, peaceful smile came across his face.

"You really DO love it here, don't you, Ger?"

"Yes, Ted, I do," he answered.  "And I think that once we're back home, I'm going to take some college classes, whether in person or by mail, learn Arabic and learn to read and interpret the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, and…" he paused, thinking exactly HOW to finish saying what he wanted to, "… and … if … IF…" he emphasized, even though his words were running on and on, "anything were to happen to you … anything fatal, God forbid … somehow, I would come back here to Edfu, and spend the rest of my life translating the inscriptions at the temple, and maybe have it published.  Nothing would make me happier."

"That's already been done," Muti proclaimed.

"But not correctly," Gerry stated as a matter of fact.  "I know it in my heart, Muti, just as I knew where that little scribbled cartouche was and what it meant."

<><><> 

In less than half-an-hour after their departure from Aswan, the small jet's engines were shut off at ABS (Abu Simbel Airport), and Gerry and Ted and Muti deplaned.

"OH … MY … GOD!" Gerry and Ted uttered in unison, upon seeing the two colossal temples.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abu_Simbel

"We'll go in when the other people from the tour get here," Muti said.  "Those temples have been here thousands of years.  They'll still be here a few minutes from now.  Don't be in a hurry.  Enjoy the setting in its simple beauty first.  Let's walk down to the river.  We've got time."  Muti put an arm around Ted's shoulders and the other arm around Gerry's, and drew them to himself. 

They walked three abreast as he continued.  "You are two of the last people who will ever see the temples from this perspective."

Stunned, Gerry asked, "What do you mean by 'last people'?  I see all these workers around here, but what are they doing?"

"They're MOVING the temples BACK there to where you see the bulldozers creating artificial mounds.  Soon—within the next few years—the rising lake will completely cover the area where the temples have stood for more than three thousand years."

"Good Lord, what a task!" Ted exclaimed.

Muti went on.  "Tomorrow, the temples will be closed to the public for at least four years while they're sawn into blocks.  Then, they'll be moved back there and reassembled.  The new seams will be sanded and, hopefully, made to disappear.  This way, UNESCO is preserving them from a watery grave for future generations to see and appreciate."

"Damn!" Gerry moaned, sounding exhausted from hearing the work involved.  "You mean the WHOLE thing?"

"Yep," Muti's succinct answer came.

They had reached the water's edge.

"What's a seaplane doing here?" Gerry asked? 

Muti was quick with an answer.  "Oh, just some rich old Sheikh or other Potentate wanting to get a last look, I suppose."

Ted seemed rather blasé about the whole idea of a seaplane on the river in the middle of a desert landscape.

Looking back, they saw the two magnificent temples.  To the left, the Temple of Rameses II, with four colossal statues of himself, each no less than sixty-five feet tall, two on either side of the portal leading into the temple itself inside the stone mountain, which was being marked for the cutters.

About three hundred feet to the right, stood the Temple of Nefertari, Rameses' favorite of two hundred wives and concubines.  [As with King Solomon and his seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, we know what those two men liked to do.]  But the six LESS colossal statues—three of Rameses, two of the goddess Hathor, and one of Nefertari, were no less than thirty-three feet tall.

They could be seen from many miles away, on the Nile, whether traveling north or south.  The sight was spectacular.  And they heard the reverse-thrust roar of the approaching Egyptair flight of their fellow tourists.

As the sixty-some passengers deplaned, Muti shared with Ted and Gerry that not all the tour group had wanted to spend the extra fifty dollars for the hour-long side-trip.

A float [group] of crocodiles thrashed through the water.  The three turned to watch them;  then, only moments later, Gerry and Ted turned to go back toward the temples and other tourists.  But Muti remained, staring down into the swirling water, a few tears escaping from his eyes.

"You coming?" Gerry called back.

"Yeah," Muti called, his back to his friends as he tried inconspicuously to wipe the tears away.  Then he turned and quickly rejoined his friends, once again drawing them to him with his arms around their shoulders.  They hurried to join their co-travelers.

"What's wrong, Muti?  You're shaking like a leaf," Ted remarked.

Muti took a deep breath, not looking at either Ted or Gerry.  "I don't … I don't feel too well right now."

"What's the matter?  Upset stomach?" Gerry asked, seeing Muti lower his arms and pressing them across his abs.

"I feel—what's the word? … 'nauseous' … that's it—I feel like I'm about to … to vomit.  Let me go back to the Learjet, and lay down for a while—in the air-conditioning.  You guys go on and tour the temples.  I'll be okay.  Just try to stay with Tariq Pasha and Rashad.

After some light arguing, Ted and Gerry walked back to the plane, and agreed that, with two cameras, Gerry would go into Rameses' temple and Ted would to into Nefertari's temple—that way, they wouldn't be so rushed and could get more unhurried photos to take home.

Once Muti was back aboard the jet, Gerry and Ted hurried to catch up with Tariq and Rashad.

"See ya later, babe," Ted softly said just before he and Gerry went their separate ways.  "I love ya."

"Love ya, too," Gerry said.

Soon, they had each joined the respective tour groups.  Gerry noticed that there were about a dozen of the men-in-gray in each group, and he momentarily shivered with an uncomfortable feeling throughout his entire being, but Ted, in his blind innocence, paid no particular attention to those mysterious men in his group.

Tariq led the first group into Rameses temple.  With his strong flashlight, he pointed out different details which would otherwise have been missed.  As the group hurried from hall to hall and from room to room, Gerry hung back, taking numerous photographs.

Soon he was alone in the very dim-lit passageway.

 "Gerry," he heard his name called by a distant but familiar voice.  He turned and the image of his dear old friend Michael *** appeared in a misty light, almost as a shimmering holographic image.

"Michael!" he exclaimed.  "Ohhhhh, it's so good to see you again."

"Listen, my friend, my son," Michael said with pure love in his voice;  "your time has come, and your destiny is nearer at hand than ever before."  Gerry began to tremble at the somber words, but Michael continued on.  "It is time for your next Initiation into the Mysteries.  Never fear.  'Go with the flow' as your generation says, and always remember what I've said before:  I am always with you.  Never forget it, my happy wanderer.  You are loved."

As Michael's image faded from sight, Gerry saw several men-in-gray approach him.  His heart was beating wildly.  He turned to run but saw the faint vision of other men-in-gray blocking his way.  His flashlight dimmed to blackness.  Arms reached out to restrain him.  He felt a pin prick as a hypodermic needle jabbed his left buttock at the same time as he felt and smelled a putrid cloth cover his nose and mouth, and he felt himself slump as consciousness abandoned him.

<><><> 

Meanwhile, in the Temple of Nefertari:

Ted, too, had hung back taking more and more photographs.  The group had gone so far ahead, he was nearly in total darkness.  Only the light from the camera's flash illuminated the paintings and statuary.

Suddenly he became aware that several people were coming toward him—people in gray, hooded galabeyas.

"Hello!" Ted called out.  "Any of you have a flashlight?  I want to get some more pictures.

There was no answer, but a hand came forth and grabbed the camera.  Other hands grabbed his arms.

Ted started to yell out for help, but a foul-smelling cloth suddenly covered his mouth and nose as one smiling face became dimly lit.  Ted's eyes grew wide as he fought the dizzying effects of the stench.  He mumbled as loudly as he could through the cloth, before he, too, lost consciousness …

"Y'Aaannnnn?"

END OF CHAPTER

END OF PART FIVE

[AUTHOR'S NOTES: 

[* This was said two years before 'Mr. Spock' FIRST spoke those IMMORTAL words on Star Trek.  Words and thoughts are THINGS, and are forever recorded in the ethers.  Creative and sensitive people can pick up those things and use them.

[** The first Learjet 23 was put into operation fourteen months earlier in October, 1964.

[***  'Michael':  See Part II, 'Life Goes On', all chapters;  Part III, 'Go West', Chapters 1, 3, and 5;  Part IV, 'Casa Cielo', Chapters 1, 3, and 4;  Part V, 'Pyramids, Temples, and Tombs', Chapters 6 and 11.]

Comments welcome, please drop the author a note: 

Posted: 01/30/09