Neanderthal Nephews

MBb, anal, oral, inc

The Iberian peninsula, c. 40,000 years before the present.


The shaman started to chant as Osra, and her two young sons began to throw dirt on the man's muscular but motionless body. The clan had gathered to send Kylbas off on his final journey, the one that would bring his re-unification with the Master Spirit. Except for a garland of red flowers that Osra had placed around his neck, the man was naked, and his knees were tucked into a fetal position under his chin. He was already in gestation for his imminent rebirth in the afterlife, and beside him in this earthen tomb/womb were the antlers of the antelope who had sent him there, along with the spear that had slain the beast.


Kylbas had been one of the clan's best hunters, and the previous week he had been chasing the antelope with his brother Darbas and several other men. Kylbas speared a buck, which collapsed and lay still on the ground. It was not yet dead when Kylbas went over to inspect his quarry, however, and the animal suddenly jerked his head and gored him in his lower abdomen. The cut was not especially severe, and there was initially hope for a full recovery, but a few days later sickness set in and Kylbas developed a fever, then fell into a deep sleep from which he never awoke. He was twenty-eight years old.


The shaman's incantations grew louder, and other members of Kylbas's extended family joined in the burial effort, using their hands to fill the shallow hole with dirt. Once their task was completed, the shaman stepped onto the freshly covered grave and performed a highly-stylized dance that was designed to summon the Master Spirit for the collection of Kylbas into the eternal realm.


The funeral rites having concluded, there was now the matter of the living to attend to. Kylbas had left behind a widow and two boys: Tareq, age fourteen, and his brother Amar, ten. A woman could not live on her own without a man, and nor could children whose magic areas had not yet been fully covered by hair. It was true that Tareq had some hair above his penis, but he was not yet a man and had not yet passed the Trial of the Soul that all boys must face before they can enter manhood. At ten, Amar's crotch was as smooth as it was the day he was born. Osra needed a husband, and the boy's father, and under the tribal law, it fell to Darbas to carry on his deceased brother's familial functions.


Little was needed for Darbas to step into the spousal role of his dead brother; a simple blessing by the shaman would suffice. The boys, however, had been spawned by Kylbas's seed, and before they could be recast as Darbas's sons, they must first be re-fertilized with his own sperm. They must receive their uncle's fluid in their assholes, and this must happen before the moon rose that evening and the sun that saw Kylbas's departure itself suffered its own recurring daily demise. The shaman, who at thirty-eight was one of the oldest men in the clan, was a necessary part of the ceremony, as only he could ensure that Darbas's semen had the intended transformative effect on the fatherless boys.


Darbas walked to the cave with his sister-in-law, the two boys, and the shaman, who was himself accompanied by a young apprentice. No one was sure exactly how old the apprentice was; he had been kidnapped from a rival tribe when he was still a small child after the shaman had a dream in which he learned the location of his successor. Although his precise age was uncertain, the apprentice was clearly in the midst of puberty, his progress through which was being closely monitored by the shaman, who was always too willing to keep a close eye on a handsome young boy.


Inside the cave, a bear skin had lain on the ground and torches had been spiked around it to provide some light. The shaman joined Darbas's hand with Osra's and uttered a few words which made them into husband and wife. Having dispensed with the nuptial prerequisites, he directed his attention to the more interesting matter of making Tareq and Amar into Darbas's sons. The shaman gestured to his apprentice, who handed him a wooden cup.


The tribe's spiritual leader held the rough chalice up towards the sky and said a prayer, then passed it to Darbas and told him to drink from it. The man obeyed and took a large sip, not knowing the contents but having complete faith in the shaman. The recipe for the potion inside was a secret known only to the shaman and his young student; to honey, the base had been added a generous amount of semen from a stallion and some special herbs which lifted the clouds of confusion and revealed the truth of existence to those who were prepared to learn it.


As the first born of the boys, Tareq would be the first to be re-formed by Darbas's sperm. The shaman instructed Darbas to pass the cup to his older nephew, and the man complied. Tareq took a sip, and his head immediately started to swoon. The shaman told the boy to remove his skins, and the boy hastened to remove the rough garment that was wrapped around his waist and shoulders. When the clothing dropped to the floor, it was evident to all present that Tareq was excited by the experience. His four-inch cock (to use a unit of measure which future hominids would develop several millennia later) was hard and pointed straight out.


Tareq's mother gasped, his younger brother giggled, and his uncle smiled. The shaman told the boy to present himself on all fours on the bear skin like a woman, and the boy eagerly did so. Darbas began to remove his own clothes, and a collective “ahh” resounded throughout the cave when the man's fully erect penis came into view. At five and a half feet, Darbas was a little larger than your average member of the tribe, but his penis was exceptionally huge. It was easily eight inches long and very thick. Osra smiled, as she knew that as the man's new wife she would get to enjoy this impressive man-flesh after it had re-sired her sons.


The shaman stood over Tareq and chanted a prayer, then ran his hands over the boy's ass. This was not, strictly speaking, a necessary part of the procedure, but no one else knew that, and the shaman was never one to pass up an opportunity to feel a boy's ass. The kid's rump was lightly covered with fuzz, which the shaman found delightful. Giving the boy's butt a firm smack, he summoned Darbas to come forward and enter the boy he wished to make his son.


Darbas was only too happy to take on this task. He walked up to the boy and kneeled down behind the ass that was presented for his taking. He placed his hands on the boy's firm ass cheeks and spread them apart to reveal the pinkish brown hole inside, then he lowered his head to take a whiff of the boy's cunt.


The musky odor seemed to combine with the bitter-sweet taste of the shaman's potion, causing his head to swirl and his penis to throb with a fierce urgency he had never experienced before. He let out a bestial grunt and scrambled into position to fuck the kid. He brought the purplish head of his insistent cock up to the boy's hole and pressed forward, sinking his massive rod into the boy's hot bowels in one powerful thrust.


Tareq cried out as he felt his uncle's penis slide into him. It was exquisitely painful, but almost immediately the pain subsided. His own head was swimming from the shaman's strange elixir, and he felt a desperate need to be speared by the man's thick meat.


Darbas ran his rough hands all over the boy's back while he luxuriated in the feel of his initial penetration. After a few minutes of this bliss he grabbed the boy's hips and began to withdraw his prick until just the head was inside, then he slammed back inside the adolescent's heavenly tunnel.


This second thrust sent a wave of pleasure washing over the conquered boy. Tareq found the penis in his ass to be thrilling beyond belief, and he gave himself over to the fuck, grinding his butt back in an attempt to swallow up more of the massive meat. Darbas was pleased by this and ran his hands through the boy's moppy hair to show his affection. He had always loved his oldest nephew but had no idea his ass could make him feel so good. Yeah, he had fucked some boys before, but no boy – and certainly no girl – had ever given his penis such an intense delight. He withdrew his cock again, then plunged back in, then repeated the process again and again and again, his heavy scrotum swaying back and forth in rhythm with his fucking.


Throughout this entire time, the shaman was singing and dancing around them, and had whipped himself up into a rapture that was contagious. Darbas continued to fuck his nephew but felt like his thrusts were moved from another world. His pelvis seemed to be moving automatically, beyond his control. He wanted this feeling to go on forever, but he soon felt a tingling sensation in his nuts and knew his sperm would soon be erupting. He looked down at the beautiful sight of his big dick sliding in and out of Tareq's shapely ass and felt his balls boil over.


Letting out an ecstatic yell, Darbas's semen ejaculated out of his penis and into Tareq's ass. As the first shot of jizz landed inside the boy, he ceased to be Darbas's nephew and became his son, re-conceived and simultaneously re-born as the man's own. Sensing the molten liquid squirting inside of him, Tareq ejaculated without ever having touched his own prick, shooting boy cum all over the bear skin rug, which Kylbas, who would henceforth be known as the boy's Honored Birth-Father, had brought home from a hunting trip two years earlier.


After their orgasms had subsided, Tareq thanked his new father for the fuck, and Darbas reluctantly withdrew from his son's gifted ass. He had another boy to make his own and was excited to see that Amar had already undressed and was waiting to join his brother as one of Darbas's brood.


The shaman knew that as Darbas had just shot his load, he would need some coaxing to be able to take on his younger nephew right away. He handed him the wooden cup for another shot of the mysterious brew, and, after allowing a few moments for it to take effect, told the naked Amar to take care of his uncle, who was now sitting on the bear skin rug. The boy ambled towards Darbas, permitting him to take in the beautiful sight of his small, hairless little body.


Amar knelt down before his uncle, and much to the man's surprise, the boy licked his lips and asked to take his penis in his mouth. The sheer obscenity of such a question from such a young boy instantly caused Darbas's prick to stiffen once again, and he opened his legs to allow his little nephew access. The boy leaned in and started to lick his cock-head, and Darbas oohed with delight. Amar then teasingly nibbled at the tender skin that overhangs his penis, then opened his mouth wide and swallowed his uncle's meat. Darbas could not believe that such a young kid could be such a talented fellator. He wondered if the boy had done this before, and shot a quizzical look at the shaman, who appeared to be lost in another dimension.


After several minutes of expert cock-sucking, the shaman announced that it was time for Amar to be anally penetrated. Knowing that Darbas was likely tired after fucking Tareq, he told the man to lie down and let the boy take care of the work. Amar straddled his uncle and sat down on the man's massive club. He hesitated when he felt the penis make contact with his asshole, but the shaman came over and pushed down on his narrow shoulders, forcing the meat past the stubbornly resistant sphincter.


Amar had had so many sips of the shaman's potion while he watched his uncle fuck his brother that he barely felt any pain, even though Darbas's penis was very long and thick and his asshole very narrow and inexperienced. He sank all the way down on the prick until he was sitting on his uncle's lap and felt the man's pubes tickle his butt cheeks. He then rose up just as the shaman had told him until only the tip was still lodged in his fanny, then collapsed back down on it. He felt a wave of compulsion spread over him and he started bouncing up and down on the cock with a speed that amazed all of the witnesses to the ritual.


Darbas had never felt anything so tight as his nephew's ten-year-old ass. He cupped the boy's smooth little ass cheeks as the kid rode him, easily taking each one in the palm of a hand. He started to thrust his hips upwards into the kid's bouncing ass and focused his eyes on the beautiful sight of the boy's hairless little prick dancing before him. It was only two inches long but was as hard as a rock, so it was obvious the kid was really enjoying getting buggered by his uncle. It seemed as though the man's massive cock was hitting a magical spot inside his ass, and after a few minutes, Amar started to feel that funny feeling he sometimes got when he rubbed himself at night.


He began to convulse violently as he experienced a dry orgasm, which caused his sphincter to squeeze Darbas's cock extra hard. This extra tightness was enough to send the already randy man over the edge, and he began to orgasm inside Amar's tight pre-pubescent ass. Unlike the boy's orgasm, however, Darbas's involved a thick creamy wad of sperm, which instantly made Amar into Darbas's son when it shot into the kid's little ass. Darbas was incredibly happy, and he grabbed his new son's head and brought it to his own so that he could kiss the boy to thank him. He forcibly stuck his tongue into the kid's surprised mouth, but Amar seemed to know instinctively what to do as he massaged his father's tongue with his own while he stroked the man's hairy chest with his tiny twig-like fingers.


Tareq and Amar were now Darbas's sons, and there would be no further need to sodomize them. However, there was also no rule preventing it. And as the boys' father, Darbas would have absolute control over their bodies and could continue to fuck them as long as he wanted. Darbas enjoyed both of his sons' asses for the next several years until eventually, the clan met disaster one spring when a tribe of taller and less hairy men moved into the area.


The women and small children were kidnapped and integrated into the conqueror's community, but all the men and older children, including Darbas and his two sons, were slaughtered and unceremoniously dumped into a mass grave. Their passing was commemorated by neither a red garland nor a shaman's dance, and their souls went uncollected by the Master Spirit. Instead, they restlessly roam the hills of northern Spain, looking unsuccessfully for a way to the other side.