“My daughter,” Bettina said, “you have reached the age of eighteen. Our
family regards this as the threshold of womanhood. Tonight, you cross that
threshold. The men here are those licit for your entertainment. They all
married into the family after your conception. They are all old enough to
have had their chidren and their vasectomies. The choice among them is
yours. Tonight, that choice is absolutely yours.
“My spouses, this is my daughter, Jennifer. Treat her well.” She left the
room.
The men were loosely lined up with a bench behind them. Jennifer had been
coached on what to do. She walked to Dale, the first in line because he had
married in first. He kissed her. When his tongue played with hers, he
removed the clasps from her hair. The ponytail of an older girl fell into
the locks of a young woman. She removed his shirt and tossed it onto the
bench behind him. As she went on towards Greg, Dale tossed the clasps onto
his shirt.
She removed Greg’s shirt while he was kissing her. This business of tongues
was as hot as they said it was. He removed her blouse, which went behind
him. Rafe was tall enough that she had trouble with his shirt. When he bent
down to kiss her, it came off easily. When he’d removed her bra, he kissed
her nipples. They pushed out at the touch of his lips. She was wearing three
skirts. After John kissed her, his tongue roaming the inside of her mouth
while she removed his shirt, he bent to kiss her nipples while untying her
first skirt.
When Steve repeated the actions, he put as much extra eroticism into them as
he could. He licked her nipples before kissing them and lightly sucked them
afterwards; he trailed his fingernails across her belly on the way to
untying her next skirt. Pete held her face while he kissed her. It
interfered with unbuttoning his shirt. After untying her last skirt, he held
her right butt cheek in his hand.
As predicted, she was tingling when she faced the row of men again. She was
wearing nothing but her panties. This was her moment. She could choose, and
there were actual arguments for several of them. She’d always be the
youngest spouse available to Dale. He’d married in nearly a year before
Deloris was born. If he were also her first spouse, she would keep that
attraction for him for the rest of his life. Rafe was extremely intelligent
for a man. He had more education than the rest. He would help the woman who
made him her first spouse with her schoolwork until she was in a graduate
program. As she looked at each in the line, she saw the trousers of the
particular man being examined stretch outward.
But there was really only one choice for her. She walked deliberately up to
Greg. His trousers, like those of the others, were belted by a rope tied in
a bowknot. She pulled both ends of the knot. She watched the trousers drop
and the phallus start to point upward.
“Greg again,” several men whispered. But they watched politely as Greg
kissed her again and kissed her nipples. When he dropped onto his knees,
kissed her belly above the waist of the panties, and then removed the
panties, the others applauded politely. Then Greg held her by the butt
cheeks as he kissed her mound. He rose gracefully and led her to the inner
door by the hand. He was, now, the instructor. It didn’t matter that she’d
had the entire rite described to her. For that matter, there were only two
doors; a boy could figure that the one which didn’t lead to the hall led to
the bed. The others bowed to them until the door was closed.
Greg stopped her near the door and drew her into another kiss. As his tongue
explored her mouth, his hands explored her body. First, he gently rubbed her
ears while holding her head to make the kiss firmer. Then, he smoothed his
hands down her back, pressing her body against his more firmly. The phallus,
the mystery of which she would learn this night, excited her as it pressed
into her belly. He kneaded her butt cheeks, clenching his hands alternately.
When his hands went up her sides, they finished holding her breasts. He
stroked one nipple with one thumb, then the other with the other thumb. All
these caresses fed her arousal now that she no longer had the audience to
worry her. When he broke the kiss, he held her head while he kissed all over
her face.
“Now the bed,” he said and led her to it. It was a woman’s bed, twice as
large as the one she had slept in. He helped her lie down in the middle.
Then he knelt on the bed while resuming kissing her face. A long kiss on
the mouth, exploring it again, led to a kiss down her neck and chest to her
left breast. He took what felt like a long time kissing and licking a spiral
path up to the nipple. It was burning before he reached it. When he did, she
put a hand on his groin searching for his phallus.
“I’m the instructor tonight,”he said. “Sometimes men need the stimulation of
a woman’s hand. Tonight, I definitely do not. Giving me too much stimulation
would cut this short.”
“And if I want to cut it short?” Jennifer asked. Truly, she was enjoying the
process. She both wanted it to continue and wanted the conclusion which had
been described to her.
“Tonight, I am the instructor. You don’t decide.” He started to kiss a
spiral up her right breast. As he was to her right, this had to be easier.
Was that why he took even longer to reach the peak? When that nipple grew
hotter in anticipation, the heat was shared with her belly. He took a break
to kiss her ears while caressing her breasts with his hand. He kissed a line
up her right breast and down what was usually the lower curve. When he
started kissing down her chest, the hand moved to her mound. That hand
stoked the fires which his kisses had built there. When the kisses reached
her navel — that tickled — his hand started playing with her labia. When
his kisses reached her hair, he broke off to get off the side of the bed and
walk to the foot.
Was this the main event? She hoped so. She parted her legs and raised her
knees to get herself ready. She was certainly ready emotionally and in terms
of internal secretions. He knelt between her feet; but, instead of crawling
over her, he began kissing her knees. He moved his head from one leg to the
other as he moved upward towards her center. He used one hand on her mound
to brush the hair back before delivering a sucking kiss to her outer labia.
He parted these to lick her inner labia. That was as thrilling as any girl’s
kiss there had ever been. When she felt him raise his head to look at her,
she raised hers. They eyed each other through the valley between her
breasts.
“I like your taste,” he said. She’d licked her cousins there, as they had
licked her. No girl had ever said that she liked the taste; nor had she ever
liked theirs. It was something one did in reciprocation. When he lowered his
head to resume the licks, she let her head drop back to the pillow. She
stopped thinking to simply feel. His hands went up to cup her breasts and
tease her nipples as his tongue continued its incitement. Arousal spiraled
through her; but as her climax approached, she tried to delay it. This was,
although it was a man’s tongue, the girl’s pleasure. It was not how one
crossed the threshold to womanhood.
“No more,” she whispered. He stopped and lifted his head.
“Much more,” he said. Then his tongue was teasing her again. She couldn’t
fight him, could even less fight herself. Her attempts at delay only drove
her arousal higher, only wound her tighter. She couldn’t resist.
Then it broke. Spasm after spasm raced though her body. Still, his oral
teasing continued. The climax lifted her hips off the bed, but his only
concession was to grab her hipbones with his hands to hang on. Finally, when
she could not possibly take more, he grasped her clitoris with his lips and
sucked. The final spasm shook her spirit as well as her body. It also
knocked him off.
When she became aware of her surroundings again, she was held in his arms.
“But,” she said.
“Lovely Jennifer,” he crooned. “You are safe in my arms. You are wonderful.
You are here. This is your night.”
“But that is not what I was told. . . .”
“That is not the key of the ceremony. It is, however, a fit beginning.”
Beginning! She’d need eight hours of sleep to rise from this bed. Further
arousal was totally impossible. Instead of pushing her, or even speaking
further, Greg merely lay close beside her with his arm around her.
It was touching her, but not resting on her. Considering that even breathing
was difficult now, she was vaguely glad that she didn’t have to bear that
weight. He occasionally kissed her shoulder. His phallus brushed her thigh,
but he kept any idea he might have about using it to himself. That was
fortunate, since he’d lost the chance. She could not stir from this position
until morning.
Yet, when she awoke a few minutes later, she had turned on her side. Greg
was cuddling her and his phallus was pressed against her back. His hand
cupped her breast.
“Enjoy your nap, Jennifer?” he asked.
“Needed it.” Indeed, her strength was restored. The arousal she had thought
beyond her was beginning again. His hand moved on to the nipple. His other
hand brushed the hair off her neck and he kissed her there. She shivered at
the kiss.
“Jennifer,” he said,”you have a mirror, you know how pretty you are to see.”
Actually, she was not the prettiest girl in the family. “What you can’t know
is how pretty you are to touch. ‘Pretty’ might not be the right word.
Touching you is a delightful experience.” Being touched was becoming a
delightful experience, too, as was being kissed. She was discovering that
the back of her neck was an erogenous zone. So was her ear. And, as his
kisses traveled down the side of her neck, her arousal grew apace. When he
moved back, she rolled over onto her back hoping for a real kiss. Instead,
he kissed her shoulder and the inside of her arm. That was a bit more
ticklish than arousing.
The tickling stopped and the arousal doubled when he got to the palm of her
hand. He sucked each of her fingers before dropping that pattern to kiss her
forehead. He stroked her left breast while his mouth covered her face. When
he got to her mouth, she was more than ready for him. His tongue met hers as
he rolled her nipple between finger and thumb. She felt warmth spread though
her, and then it concentrated in her belly. He finally shifted his body on
the bed. He kissed her right breast while his hand cupped her mound. She
felt that this grip possessed her. As his hand held her sexuality, he
somehow held her entire self. Strange to think of a man possessing anything,
let alone a girl.
When he stroked her labia, though, she flowed for him — not only her
secretions but her emotions. When he sucked or licked her nipple, heat built
in her vulva. When he stroked her clitoris, the heat spread throughout her
body. This was great pleasure, at first. Before long, however, she began to
thirst for completion.
“Greg,” she said.
He raised his head from her breast to look in her face inquisitively. But
she couldn’t articulate her need.
When she began to undulate on the bed, though, he stopped stroking her for a
moment. She had wanted that, but she didn’t enjoy it. Her body wanted more,
needed more. Her hand moved to where his had been although having a witness
to self-satisfaction would be a great shame; that’s why even the young slept
in privacy. But, before her hand touched herself, it touched his arm. He was
between her legs, and his hand was spreading her labia. She felt a shape
smoother and larger than his fingers hold them apart.
“Lady Bettina told you that you were on the threshold of womanhood tonight,”
Greg said. “And so you are. And I’m at the threshold of your womanhood right
now. We cross that threshold together. Feel it happen.”
She felt the warm, blunt, wedge of his phallus part her labia and move
slowly inward. She felt him stretching her, and the arousal was intense.
This was a new sensation, the sensation of womanhood. When she felt full and
he was pressing his delta against her entrance, she knew she was a woman
now.
“Yessss,” she said.
“Yes,” he answered. He shifted his position to put a hand on each of her
breasts. He bent down to kiss her. When he straightened, he began to move
out of her. The motion, if less socially significant than the entry had
been, generated as much sensual pleasure. He watched her face intently as
his motions spiraled her arousal higher and higher. Finally, she shut her
eyes to escape his gaze and concentrate on her own feelings.
These soon peaked. She gasped as she went over. She felt herself clench,
gripping a phallus within her for the first time. She shuddered.
Then, his motions sped up. He moved out and in two or three times more. He
drove in. She could feel him throbbing deep within her.
He dropped onto his elbows resting more of his weight on her belly and
chest.
“So that is what it is,” she said.
“That is what it is,” he responded. “You are a woman now, Lady Wife. Welcome
to adulthood.”
“Thank you for the introduction.”
“You are welcome. It was my pleasure, my great pleasure. Shall I move?”
“Please.” He did. He lay on his side facing her.
“Lady Jennifer,” he asked. “would you enjoy cuddling as before?”
She considered. It had been pleasant. Everything he’d shown her this night
had been pleasant. She was now a woman; his status as a teacher was done.
The suggestion was phrased like that to acknowledge their change in status.
She turned away; then backed into his warmth. He put an arm around her.
Lightly clasping that hand, she went to sleep.