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My name is Daniel Selkirk, a sailor by trade, most recently an able-bodied seaman aboard the sloop, Betty Lowe, bound for Mindanao with a cargo of farm implements. It was sometime in August, 1873 (I had lost track of the exact date) when the Betty Lowe became becalmed in the Doldrums. The sloop Betty Lowe was a vessel of 2500 tons burthen with rarely-used auxiliary steam power which was intended to get us out of just such situations as this. After several days of futile efforts to catch enough of the fitful shifting winds of the Doldrums to get out of them into the belt of the southern Trade Winds, Captain Block decided to use steam. He ordered the boiler fired up and waited to get up steam. I was on deck and had just started inspecting a lifeboat slung in davits. I had started to pull back the canvas boat cover when there was a tremendous explosion behind me the shock of which threw me into the lifeboat. I grabbed the boat cover to keep from being thrown into the sea and tumbled into the boat. The shock of the explosion also released the davits so that the boat fell into the water. It was this which saved my life as the blast of scalding steam from the boiler explosion passed above me. I cautiously lifted the boat cover and saw that the Betty Lowe had broken in two and was rapidly sinking. Quickly, I threw back the boat cover. found the oars, and rowed away as fast I could lest I be pulled down by the suction as the ship sank. There was another explosion as the inrushing sea poured into the firebox of the boiler and the Betty Lowe went to the bottom. I rowed back to pick up any other survivors. There were none. I found only four badly scalded corpses.Now, I was in a predicament. I am only a common sailor, no navigator, and I had no idea where we were when the explosion happened. Judging from the time we had been at sea, I guessed that I might be somewhere north of Australia, though how far north, I couldn't even guess. Anyhow, I did not intend to row all the way to Australia. The lifeboat had a small mast and triangular sail which I set up. I would have to sail due south to have any chance of reaching Australia, but where was due south ? There was a compass in the lifeboat, but I did not know the magnetic declination in the mid-Pacific ocean. I knew that there was such a thing and that the compass could be off true south by as much as 22º . If the sky was cleat at night, I could set course for the Southern Cross. I had seen it often and was sure I could recognize it, IF I was far enough south to see it. Then I could find out the compass error and use it to keep on a southerly course in cloudy weather. The Moon was nearly full, so I ought to be able to read the compass by it. I used the compass, with its unknown error, to sail as far, nearly south, as I could during the day.The sky was clear that night and I could see the Southern Cross. I set my course toward it and found the compass error. As long as I stayed on the same meridian of Longitude, it shouldn't change. Checking the food and water supplies, I guessed that there was enough of both to last one man for about 6 weeks, 2 months on short commons. The food was only hardtack and lemons to ward off scurvy. Of course, I still had one worry. I couldn't be sure that I was north of Australia. It might be well to the east or west of my course, for all I knew and I might be heading for Antarctica. Not knowing how far away Australia was, I had no idea of how long it would take to get there and whether my food and water would last that long. On and on I sailed, always to the south, with no land in sight. The Pacific Ocean is full of islands, but I hadn't sighted one so far. The weather had been fine and the sea calm for two weeks. That's why Balboa called the ocean Pacific. He hadn't seen it in one of its ugly moods. Of course, my luck didn't last. A day came when the sky clouded up and an ever-freshening wind began to blow. Soon, it was up to gale force and there were whitecaps on the waves. It was getting harder to stay on a southerly course . The storm struck suddenly and violently. The lifeboat bobbed about like a cork and I couldn't hold any course. I hauled down the sail so as not to be dismasted and just let the storm have its way. The boat shipped quite a bit of water, so I was kept busy bailing. This went on for hours. The wind tore at my clothing, already in sad condition. It tore the buttons from my shirt which ballooned out behind me and was blown away, leaving nothing but the useless sleeves on my arms. Most of the buttons were already gone from my fly and when the last two went, I had to hold up my pants with my hand. This was so impractical that I took off my pants and laid them under one of the thwarts .Since I never wore underwear in the Tropics, I was as naked as the day I was born. Near sunset, I saw an island dead ahead . It looked like a coral atoll and I knew that they are usually surrounded by fringing reefs. I was being driven straight toward it by the wind, still very strong. If I ran aground on a reef, the boat would be wrecked, but I couldn't row against this wind and I dared not raise the sail, even if it were possible. I did run aground on a reef very near the island, but such was the force of the wind that the boat was blown across the reef, tearing out most of the keel and the strakes alongside it. Of course, as soon as the boat got into the water on the other side of the reef, it sank like a rock and I had to swim to the atoll. There was a sandy beach with some dunes behind it. By this time, I was pretty well worn out. I dragged myself up the beach and sank down by the upwind side of one of the dunes. If I had had the strength to get to the slip side, I'd have had shelter from the wind. It didn't matter, though. The wind was fairly warm and the rain was much lighter thsn it had been. I laid on my belly with my forearm under my face and went to sleep. I woke on a lovely sunny morning. I got up and pissed into the sand and then started to walk inland to see if the island was inhabited, when suddenly I heard proof that it was. From the other side of the dune, I heard panting, sighing, moaning, all the familiar sounds of lovemaking. I crept around the dune and saw two young Polynesian men, about 18 or 19 years old. One of them was standing up with his prick up the ass of the other who was bent from the waist. My whang immediately stood at attention. I'd had nothing but my hand to relieve me for about two months. They saw me and grinned and the one who was taking it up the ass beckoned me over. I went and stood in front of him. He opened his mouth, put his hands on my ass and pulled me toward him, taking my stiff rod into his mouth. He really knew how to suck a cock. I'd been sucked off hundreds of times, but never so well as he did it. I tried to make the pleasure last and hold my cream back, but I was too horny, even though I had jerked off every day on the boat. It wasn't anywhere near as long as I would have wanted before I was spurting my load of cream down his throat. He ran his thumb along the piss tube on the underside of my cock to work out the very last drops. As he hadn't come yet, I squatted down in front of him and took his tool into my mouth. The other young fellow began fucking faster and harder and the one I was sucking off suddenly stiffened, shuddered, gave a great cry of delight and blew his wad into my mouth. The boy fucking his ass also shuddered and with a great gasp, came.This was my very pleasant welcome to the island of Mokumâhû, We exchanged hugs and kisses and walked, hand-in-hand over the crest of the atoll and down toward the lagoon to a village of grass-thatched huts of reed matting.. As we entered the village, I wondered if I was dreaming or if, perchance, I had died and gone to heaven. I saw nothing but men and boys kissing each other, groping each other, jerking each other off, sucking each other off, and buggering each other. There seemed to be (and later I learned that there were) no women. A few men were busy climbing breadfruit trees and palm trees for fruit and some were taking part in a hukelau in the lagoon. These workers were a minority. Most of the men and boys were busy enjoying each other's bodies. Though sometimes I would see a boy suck a man off, never did I see a man bugger a boy. Boys were supposed to have fun with boys and men with men. The youths I had enjoyed behind the dune brought me to the headman of the village. He was tall, naked as everyone else, spectacularly well-hung, and wore a long flower lei around his neck and a garland of flowers around his balding head. He appeared to be in his late 30's. He greeted me in Polynesian, of which I knew maybe a dozen words. I greeted him respectfully in English and used a couple of my Hawaiian words. He smiled, walked up to me, embraced me, kissed me, and groped me. I returned his kiss, though he was a much better kisser than I was, and groped him back. I hoped that was the right thing to do. The headman put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down. Of course, I knew what he wanted. I squatted and took as much as I could of his huge ule[prick] into my mouth and sucked it as well as I knew how. An old man with huge balls carried in a sling of netting and wearing a lei also approached is. Like almost everyone else I saw, his ule was stiff as a crowbar. One of the young men licked it all over while another lifted me by the hips so that I was bent over. The old man (some kind of witch doctor, or perhaps a kahuna, I guessed) put his hands on my hips and proceeded to bugger me with his stiff old ule. So I was taking tf at both ends from the two most important men in the village. The old man gave me one of the best fucks I had ever had. A little boy who was watching all this, seeing that I was about to come, scooted under me and took my whang in his mouth just as I spurted my cream. He gobbled it all down and stood up grinning just as the headman and the witch doctor unloaded their balls into my mouth and gut. The headman scolded the boy who gave an answer that made the headman laugh .I later learned that I had been done a high honor. The rest of the day was devoted to getting to know the other villagers. Getting to know them meant kissing, groping, sucking and being sucked. fucking and being fucked . I was dead on my feet by sunset when the evening meal was prepared and served. If I hadn't been so hungry (Remember, I'd had nothing but hardtack and lemons to eat for weeks.) I don't think I could have stayed awake. "How do they do it ?" I wondered. Fish and poi and breadfruit and sliced mango made up the meal. The witch doctor came around with a gourd full of a black liquid. Each man took a drink, and, as soon as he did, he either got a bone-on if he didn't have one already, or cream squirted out of his ule. When he got to me, I stared for a moment at the unappetizing liquid. The men nearby made a "bottoms up" gesture, so I drank it. It was bitter, but no more so than Guinness stout. For a moment, I felt nothing, than there was a strange feeling in my balls, a kind of tingling, sizzling feeling. Instantly, my cock reared up, hot, hard, and ready. I knew that if I even touched it, I'd come. A very handsome and well-hung young man came over to me, kissed me, and gestured to one of the huts. I went with him and we spent of the night sucking and fucking, that is, he fucked me and sucked me He didn't want me to fuck or suck him. I had no grounds for complaint.I woke up feeling as refreshed as if I'd slept all night. He told me that his name was Uleloa , Long Prick,. Yes.that fitted him well. He couldn't make anything out of my name, so he called me Huanui, Big Balls.He tried to explain a lot of things to me, but I just didn't know enough Polynesian and he didn't know any English.I noticed that the men who did the cooking, and food gathering had no balls. He tried to explain it to me, but unsuccessfully. During the next month, (based on the phases of the Moon) I was invited to take part in the hukelau twice, but aside from that, it was the same round of endless sex. I didn't get tired of it, though, I was hornier than I'd ever been in my life and had a bone-on most of the time, like everyone else.Uleloa and I lived together, but we both fucked around like alley cats. Sometimes, I would just sit on a log and watch the little boys learning from experience how to give each other pleasure.In a way, though, I was lonesome because I couldn't talk to anyone. I picked up more Polynesian words, but I don't have much of a head for languages, and I hadn't really learned to speak it. Then, something new happened. Another white man came into the village, one who spoke English (of a sort). He was freckle-faced and red-haired and looked around my age, perhaps a little older, around 30.He greeted me Mokumâhû fashion, by kissing and groping me. "Me nyme's Nigel Stokes. Oi'm a shipwrecked sylor loike you. It took these blokes a while to figure aht that you and Oi speak the syme language. " We both laughed. I'm from New Bedford and he's from Cheapside and the versions of English we speak are enough different to explain the confusion Now, at last, I could get the answers to my questions. I began immediately to ask them. "Where do these people come from ? Why are there no women (not that I care about that) ? " "They're orl faggots. The other islands ship their buggers 'ere. That's why there are no women. Mokumâhû means Faggot Oisland. Several toimes a year an outrigger comes to the oisland bringin' the men and boys oo've been caught messin' abaht wiv each other." "That's interesting" I commented."If I was to get tired of this kind of life , do you suppose they'd take me back with them ?" "Oh coo, you carn't do that, y'know." "Why not ?" "'Ow many toimes have you tyken the witch doctor's potion ?" "Oh, about 6, I guess." "Yer bollocks needs it naow. If you was to stop tykin' it, they'd wyste away to nuffin'. We carn't ever leave this oisland and still be men." "Why the hell didn't they tell me that ?" "They did... in Polynesian." "Is that what happened to those eunuchs who do the cooking and fruit gathering ?" "Aye, myte. They're orl criminals oo've commited serious croimes like rype or myming or murder. The 'eadman 'as 'em larcked oop for a month in a sturdy log 'ut wivout the potion. When they coom aout, they 'ave no bollocks. It's too lyte then for the potion to do 'em any good." "Hmm, does this potion have any other effects I don't know about ? " "Yes, two. "Ow aold do yer think Oi am ?" "Oh, about 30, I guess." "Guess agyne, kiddy. Oi'm aold enough to be yer aold man. Oi 'ad me sixty-second birfdye abaht the toime you landed on this oisland. The potion doesn't myke yer immortal, but it slaows daown yging grytely. There're aold men on the oisland. Oi'm sure yer've seen 'em carryin' their yuge bollocks in net slings. The potion mykes yer bollocks graow bigger and bigger for the rest of yer loife.The bigger yer bollocks are the more sperm they myke. Those old buggers shoot by the 'arf pint." "So, how long can I expect to live, barring mishap ?" "Probably abaht yge 120 or so." "And I'll be sexually active all that time ?" "Aow yes ! Yer've got another 90 years of sookin' and fookin' a'ead of yer." "Well, I can't complain about that." "Oi should 'ope not." "Naow we've talked lorng enough. I've been admirin' yer bum and me tool wants to feel its w'y around in it. Wot d'yer sye ?" "By all means. Do you suck ?" "Of course, Oi'll do yer roight arfter Oi get rid of me load." Nigel proved to be very skilled at buggery and I had the Devil's own time trying to hold my cream in for him. I managed it, though and gave him a respectable load in return. Almost needless to say, although I can never leave this island, why on Earth would I ever want to ? |