MALKOM Chapter 1

Author: lithium500mg
Title: MALKOM Chapter 1
Date: 19 February 2015

Chapter 1

I finished my second semester at the Air Force Academy, jumped on my old KLR650, and headed for Las Cruces. I had heard of the spiritual experience that can be had with buttons of peyote, derived from a cactus that grows in the southwest USA and into Mexico. It supposedly has psychedelic properties, was used extensively for religious purposes in pre-Columbian times, and is legal for members of the Native American Church. I have a little blood of the Mescalero Apaches from my western ancestry, well-mixed with Greek and Nordic corpuscles. From American History studies at the Academy I had heard of small groups that worship with the aid of peyote in Texas and eastern New Mexico. I had a week to investigate.

I rode south from Colorado Springs, through Santa Fe, with a stop in Albuquerque. I stayed the night at Kirtland Air Force Base near the airport, got a few cheap meals at the commissary, and stocked my saddlebags with food, water and the missing camping gear. Let me say now that I was so horny I could barely see straight, hadn’t had a chance to jerk off for weeks, and found no opportunity at Kirtland. Peyote is rumored to make orgasm more like a between-the-legs grenade. I was looking forward to that.

Freeways are no fun on a dual-sport bike with semi-knobby tires, so I often take the Kawasaki on longer and more picturesque routes to my destinations. I was traveling light on clothes and heavy on riding and camping gear. I had my Academy speedos for quick-drying shorts, an Academy T-shirt, some sneakers, and my normal off-road heavyweight nylon riding gear. The rest of the pack was food, water, and camping stuff. I got a late start as I had to fulfill obligations at Kirtland regarding talking about goings-on at the Academy.

I turned off the I25 at highway 60, took 163 south, and turned east on 59. At sunset, I turned off the main road, went three or four kilometers down a dirt path, and set out my gear. Before the daylight waned completely, I stripped to my speedo and sneakers, did 60 push-ups, a couple of hundred crunches, 50 more push-ups, and some weight work by lifting the front and back of the bike. I ran to the main road and back for my aerobic, having to push to make it back before it got too dark. After a camp meal I set up a kind of pup tent using the bike as the high point. I got cleaned up, rinsed-out the speedo and hung it on a bush to dry.

The night was warm and even humid, not what I expected. I lay down on my foam pad and began to think about the next day’s ride and how I was going to find peyote-friendly folks or tribes. It felt good to be naked under the Moon and stars and away from the discipline of the military. I had completed my first year at the Academy, could now grow my hair out to a reasonable length (it had been only 4 days since I had the last obligatory head shave), and enjoyed not being in a crowded and noisy freshman dorm. I leaned back and enjoyed the view of the galaxy.

My immediate plan was to recover a little from the exercise, take a piss, jerk off, and go to bed. I drained the bladder, laid back down on the pad, and decided to just enjoy feeling horny for a while. This privacy and silence was worth savoring. The quiet, and the long day and peaceful night, however, got to me, and I fell asleep. We learn at the Academy to “sleep deep and wake sharp,” necessary for scrambling jets but also when scrambling for early drills, mess, classes, late drills and athletics. After I dropped off, it was going to take something to wake me up.

I’m pretty tall, exactly two meters (that’s 6’7” in civilian). I get my dark hair from the Apache, my height and name from the Nordic, and my gray eyes from the Greek. In years past I would be too tall to pilot for the Air Force, but those limits were changed as were other prejudices like gender and race. I had little interest in the female cadets at the Academy, but often found myself thinking about how I would like to strip down with some of the upperclassmen. The rules of fraternization are strict, however, as though cadets didn’t produce testosterone and semen at all. As a result, we almost always sleep with raging hard-ons, wake with raging hard-ons, and hope we don’t get hard during inspection. Some do.

I woke up sharp. Something had bumped my chest. It was completely dark as the Moon and stars were gone. There was noise. A few seconds later something else hit me, and I realized it was (edited), at first pea-sized, but the second one bigger. I now know it was monsoon season, but in central California where I come from we don’t have monsoons, so I didn’t know exactly what was going on. What I did know is that I should get some shelter, and that my lean-to-the-bike pup tent was the place to go.

The storm had blacked out the sky completely. I stood up quickly, sure enough with a blood-filled pecker, but almost fell. There was no light to help me with orientation and we tall guys take more time to get the blood to our brains upon standing. I knelt back down onto the pad. Instinctively I felt my butt and groin and chest and, mentally still not yet fully functioning, was surprised to find nothing but skin. The Academy requires sleeping in shorts and T-shirts. It occurred to me that it wasn’t going to be easy to find my bike, but I would do it buck naked.

The orientation of the foam pad should give me some idea of bearing, so I got on my hands and knees and tried to guess the direction of the bike. I did that, and, as it started raining and hailing heavily, I started crawling. As I remembered it, the bike was about three meters away. I crawled slowly, frequently waving one hand in front of me in search of the camp.

I had made a big mistake. I started out the wrong way, 180 degrees opposite. I crawled for about twice the distance I thought the bike should be, and then realized I might have made a mistake. It was now raining big-time, with water first a few centimeters deep, then a few more. I panicked slightly as it hit me that I was in trouble if I couldn’t get back to the bike. Even if I did a flood might wash the whole campsite away.

I turned 180 degrees, or at least I thought I did, and tried to backtrack. I crawled and then walked for some distance but only got more lost and disoriented. My bare feet took a beating, and pretty soon I was crawling again. Finally, I stopped to assess my condition. If I made any more mistakes, my naked body might be found rotting in the desert.

Chapter 2 (preview): The tribe finds Malkom