It seems silly saying so now, but I was nervous about the seeding. I guess we all were, except for Rosemary. They tell you all sorts of things, girls getting hurt, girls dying. I guess they do that to make sure you've exercised and ready. It's a lot of work, you know, getting ready.
We all made preparations and did the exercises. I had my sister help. She'd had her seeding three years ago, and she showed me just how to position my mound to maximize the length of the shaft thrust and how to coax my partner to issue the most potent fertilizer.
You know, the seed has to be injected into the receiving canal with enough force to drive it through the channel and up into the breeding pocket so it'll root and cultivate. Usually there's a membrane that blocks entrance into the channel, and you have to clear it before you can be fertilized.
So every night I'd separate my fur pelt to expose the cleft atop my mound, and my sister would prod me with the mock shaft to induce lubrication. At first I wasn't getting the shaft wet enough, and I'd end up sore. She kept working me, though, until I could totally saturate the cleft, and then we worked on getting past the blockage.
For a while, she wouldn't push hard enough to get it through, but I told her it had to be done, so one night, after rubbing up and down within the folds of my mound, making me moist and open, she took the dart in both hands and stabbed it sharply into the furrow. I screamed from the pain, but the blockage gave way, and the dart was burried deep within me.
I was so sore, I couldn't bear to do any more exercises, but my sister reminded me that I had to work on my lubrication, or the seeding would be just as painful. I hadn't completely healed, but I continued the exercises, and soon my sister was able to repeatedly plunge the shaft so deeply into me that the mound swallowed it up completely.
All that work paid off, and I certainly couldn't have done it without my sister's help. The seeding went superbly. My partner's bulb sac was tight and full when we began, his shaft penetrated quickly and easily and he thrust the seed forcefully through the passage. I could actually feel the seed course up and sink into my breeding pocket. I'll give birth in about a month, and from the arch of my belly, it'll be a robust heir.
What has always amazed me is that Rosemary did it all alone! We all knew she had a natural ability. She was able to lubricate spontaneously. She was internally motivated, and it's hard to compete with that.
She took the seeding quite seriously. She practiced every night. She was better than any of us at lubricating. She took great pride in her pelt and groomed it meticulously. It was covered with the thickist, darkest growth of fur I've ever seen. She was always comely, but in the last year, she bloomed. Her hips were wide and full and likely to bear a substantial yield. Her breasts had blossomed and were ready for suckling. Her rump had even filled out, so there was plenty of cushion. She was ripe for seeding, and she was eager to have it done.
I was so surprised when my partner withdrew and I looked over to Rosemary and saw she was still coupled. We all know why now. It was a show, wasn't it? The elders told us that, even though she finished last, Rosemary would deliver first.
It turned out to be Melanie. That was sad about Melanie, wasn't it?
I always knew that the seeding would be the most rewarding and rapturous act of my life, so I never understood why "finishing last" was supposed to ba a bad thing. I can see why the others would, though. It takes a lot of effort to open and widen the furrow so the seed deposit would quickly take root. It really did the trick for Eleanor. She was efficently impregnated, and now her pocket's full. No doubt her child will be sound and healthy.
You see, I expected my seeding to take longer, although not as long as it turned out to be. They told us that the seed shoots out of the breeder's shaft after he's stimulated it enough. That's why he jabs it in and out of you, and that's why you have to break the membrane block and learn to keep yourself just wet enough so the shaft gets just the right tightness. They told us to practice, and gave us mock shafts to do exercises with. They were huge! I never thought I could get all of that thing in me, and I wasn't alone. The shafts scared all of us to death, but they told us we really could get them inside of us. All we needed to do was practice.
Then they told us that our partner's shaft might not be the same size. It might be longer or shorter, thinner or thicker. It occured to me then that the idea of practicing with a shaft didn't make a log of sense. If you've made yourself used to one size, your lubrication might be all wrong when the real thing is inside you. I decided then that I wasn't going to break my membrane, but let my partner do it on the day of the seeding, and concentrate on controling my lubrication.
Most people didn't believe me when I told them that I wasn't going to penetrate my mound crevice in any of my exercises. They were sure that the seed wouldn't take root and sprout. Oh, at the beginning, I used the mock shaft and stroked it across the length of the furrow. The first time I touched the shaft to my mound, I became so excited that I flooded the cleve, but with practice I was able to moisten just the tip of the shaft, even though I held it tightly within the folds of my mound, with no discomfort. I found a knob just inside, near the top of my furrow, and when I caressed it my fluids would gush.
I found that when I rubbed the shaft against the knob a warmth that flared down into me. The more I'd rub, the deeper the flame would spread and my cleft would overflow with moisture. I'd rub harder and faster and the fire would burn hotter and brighter and then the fire would explode up my spine in waves flashing through my entire being. My body would shudder and spasm, my breathing would stop; all I was aware of was the blazing wildfire within me. When the waves subsided, my entire pelt would be drenched with my fluids.
I began to wonder what it would feel like with a seed shaft within me. I began to imagine that the fires I'd ignited could only be fully quenched with the shaft buried inside me. I began to crave the shaft. The temptation to shove the mock shaft through the membrane and into me became overwhelming. I stopped practicing with it altogether, and decided to concentrate on the knob. I used the fire to control my secretions. Eventually, I could lubricate simply by imagining the shaft within me.
When the day of the seeding arrived, I really thought I was ready. My heart was pounding when I was led to my seeding bed. I was told to make my preparations. I groomed my pelt, parting the fur to expose my cleft. In anticipation, the furrow was already damp. I dipped my fingers into the folds to moisten them and then I brushed and feathered my pelt, sprinkling the strands with a fine dew. The moisture caught the light and cast the mound in glistening velvet. I moistened my breasts, massaging them to blush and blossom the nipples. I laid down upon the blanketed ground, resting on my elbows, pulling them back to make my breasts jut up and out. I spread my legs far apart and raised my knees and hips so my mound was tipped invitingly upward, and I waited.
When the breeder arrived, he immediately knelt between my legs. He fixed his eyes on my breasts, then slowly lowered them to the soft curves of my mound and stared intently into the furrrow. My eyes were rivited on the immense column of flesh jutting out of the dense, matted thicket of fur below his belly. It quivered and pulsed as if impatient to plunge into me. It was quite a bit longer and thicker than I'd expected, and as I watched it swelled even larger. At its base on both sides I could see the bulbs expanding, tightening the sac, swelling up with the seed he would plant in my breeding pocket to root and ripen inside me. My body shuddered, my furrow flooded and I fought for control.
He leaned forward over me, supporting himself with his arms, placing a hand on either side of me on the bed between my arms and breasts. His face was just above mine, and I stared into his eyes. He smiled, but said nothing, and looked down between us, his breath blowing warm through the valley between my breasts.
His pushed his hips forward, his legs rubbing roughly against the inside of my thighs, pushing my legs farther apart. My body jerked as the shaft prodded me, then slid down the length of my cleve, coming to rest under me between my buttocks. His belly pressed against my mound, the rough fir of his pelt bristling the cleft, then he pulled back, arched his back, and pushed forward again. Thsi time the shaft slid upwards, coming to rest pressed tight between my belly and his. I felt it pulse there, smooth and hard, before he again pulled back. I looked down and I saw it suspended from him, aimed at the furrow between my legs.
He slowly pushed his hips at me a third time, and the shaft caught the cleve, nestling it's head into the mound at the top of the cleft. He then sharply hammered himself at me to force the column into the hollow to divide the furrow and invade the canal. Even tho I'd steeled myself for the onslaught I knew was about to come. I was stunned by the ferocity of the thrust, and a cry escaped my lips.
He'd wedged the shaft deeper into my cleft, but he hadn't penetrated. He seemed puzzled at first, surprised that I'd not ruptured the membrane. He quickly realized that the barrier was still intact, and he'd have to break through before any of his seed would be plunged into my pouch.
The head of the shaft had buried itself snugly within the furrow. He withdrew a bit, then began to thrust the shaft shallowly up and down the length of the crevice. As he reached the end of the trench, he'd tip the head, jabbing it down and in. Each time the shaft would drive itself a bit deeper into the slit, each time the shank would stroke the knob at the top of the divide and each time I'd shiver, making myself wetter. Eventually I could feel the fluids flowing out of me and down onto my bottom. Suddenly, I understood: he was stimulating me to be at wet as I could before he made the final thrust to full penetration. At the moment I realized that, he tilted his shaft straight down and gave it a massive thrust, driving it through the membrane, and suddenly he was lodged deep within me.
I cried out, not from pain, but from the overwelming sensation having him in me! The sudden invading fullness of him within me, filling me, aroused in me a passion I'd never known. I gulped air, my heart raced, and my legs involuntarily drew up and wrapped around his, pulling him closer to me and sinking his shaft deeper into me, which caused me to cry out again. My entire body was in a state of excitement, awash in new hungers and sensations.
I reached up around him and pulled him down to me. I flattened my breasts against his chest, grinding my nipples into his thick fur. I buried my face into the hollow of his neck, and ran my hands down his back to his hindquarters and pressed him deeper into me. The shaft pulsed within me, and my back arched, digging my nipples deeper into his chest.
His hips pulled back and the shaft slowly withdrew, leaving only the head in the folds, and then he again thrust forward. I drew my hips up to meet his thrust and the shaft again sank deep into me, rubbing hard against the swollen knob at the top of the channel, shooting sparks of fire through me. Again he withdrew, again he drove the shaft into me, again I drove myself up to swallow him up into me. Again and again, deeper and deeper the shaft burned into me, his bulb sac pounding against my buttocks. I burned with the need to have him in me. I ached to pull him into me. I sank my nails into his back. I pressed my moaning lips into his neck and tried to suck him into me. I pulled him in with my legs, my arms; I needed to engulf him whole.
He reached under me, threw my legs over his sholders and rolled me up, back arched and my mound high, then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up to him as he stabbed down into me. My arms gripped his back as his piercings came faster and stronger, his hips hammering down, driving the shaft again and again into me. My body tensed with the inferno building in me, and then it erupted in waves of fire and ice, blazing up into my very essence. I spasmed uncontrolably, clutching the shaft tightly within me, and my breath became a scream.
At the same moment, his breathing became short and strained, his body taut, his pounding frantic and urgent. His brow knitted, his teeth clenched, and he began to grunt. The shaft began to expand and quiver. Howling sharply, he spiked the pulsating shaft deep into me. His seed bulbs, pressed hard against my bottom, pulsed and contracted, and the shaft throbbed violently as it pumped surge after surge of his seed into me, driving it up through the canal and impregnating it deep into the walls of my breeding pocket.
As he continued to spasm into me, I knew his seed had taken root and a child was growing inside me. I gasped for breath as the fever again overwhelmed me. The relentless pounding and gushing within me ignited the spark anew, and again my body thrashed and flailed against the pumping shaft inside of me. My hips flung themselves up, grinding my mound into his dripping pelt as the waves of ecstasy whipped through me, filling me and satiating me.
As the waves crested, the breeder sank to my breast, drained and gasping. His weight fell full upon me as he held me in a tight embrace. We lay there intertwined, breathless and spent, glistening and slick with sweat, his shaft still rigid and quivering within me. Suddenly his hips jerked. Mine twitched in response, and his shaft spasmed, causing my passage to contract. His hips heaved again, and I rose to meet the thrust. He thrust again, and again my mound crushed into him. Again he thrust. And again.
Astonishingly, his strength miraculously revived, he raised himself to force himself deeply into me, to stab into me again and again. The shock of the renewed attack rekindled the spark instantaneoulsy. Rolling balls of flame again blazed through my entire being and I cried out again and again. The intensity of his onslaught soared. He stressed each blow with a loud grunt, hammering burtally into me with a seething fury far greater than before. I was consumed by his ferocity, my body in ceaseless spasm, my hips thrashing wildly to meet his frenzied assault. His grunts grew into bellows and then into a howling roar as his shaft suddenly shuddered and pulsated and erupted again, pumping more of his seed into me, filling me to overflowing with his essense. Our cries rose as one as we clung to each other, ravaged by the maelstrom within us.
As the turmoil within me finally peaked and ebbed, he again fell into my arms. I held him tightly to my breast, drained and dazed. I began to lose awareness, falling into a deep sleep, with him still rigid and twitching deep inside me. When I awoke, I was alone, and when I rose from the seeding bed I felt the warm remains of his seed flow out of me and spill onto my thighs.
My seeding caused a lot of excitement. It's quite unusual that a breeder is so aroused that he issues twice. Only the elders could recall it happening to anyone before me. They said that it used to happen more often before it became the custom to b reak the blocking membrane before the seeding. There's a lot of anticipation surrounding my childbirth. Some who are to begin their preparations for seeding are hoping it will be generous. I guess they're considering keeping their membranes intact.
The interesting thing is that they say you've got to concentrate on your lubrication, but I didn't. I completely lost track of what I was supposed to do and got caught up in my feelings. They say I've been blessed and favored for being twice-seeded. I hope they're right; I'll know when I drop. Some said I was sure to have gone into labor first, too. Melanie did, but then, we know the reason for that.
My evacuation had finally agreed after my first birthing, so I was at the river with the rest. The young ones, especially the ones who are ready to seed, can't help wanting to talk about the ceremony and the exercises. They always ask questions. The exercises always begin right after the the middle flow, so the ready ones are starting to get nervous.
One of us mentioned that the it would soon be time for the ready ones to begin their exercises, which brought on a new burst of questions and comments. We always warn them that the mack shafts may be cold but not to wait too long to break their membranes, no matter how umcomfortable it is. Melanie asked why the breeders couldn't help them with the exercises. She didn't see why she couldn't practice with a real seed shaft instead of a mock one. We laughed and called her silly. I guess the poor thing didn't understand.
Rosemary pretty much dominated the conversations during the last flow. She kept going on about the spot she found, and how she was adamantly refusing to break her barrier before the seeding. Even though we had to agree that she could lubricate better than any of us, we warned her that she could end up barren. She wouldn't listen; she'd just describe the 'fire' that she said she felt. A few tried to rub themselves to see if they could feel it, too, but those that did started feeling sick so they stopped and called Rosemary crazy. Only Eleanor and Melanie seemed to give any merit to what Rosemary was doing.
If Eleanor hadn't already ruptured her membrane, I think Rosemary wwould have talked her into keeping it intact. She certainly worked at trying to feel the 'fire' that Rosemary was talking about. She finally gave up on it just before the seeding. Eleanor always was pretty gullable.
Melanie didn't take part in any of the discussions. She stayed to herself, but every time Rosemary would make her assertions, Melanie would nod her head, seemingly in agreement. She seemed much more withdrawn than during the previous flow, and someone said as much to her. She said she was just unsettled about the seeding, but she was looking forward to it. As she mentioned it, her nipples hardened and that's when I noticed how they'd grown since the last flow. Then I noticed how light her evacuation was that time and I remembered how late she was in coming down to the river. It was a silly thought; the notion was unthinkable. How could it happen? Still, the thought gnawed at me.
Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. It was her first time, but her pelt had a pretty wide part to it 'cause I slipped in quick and easy. But that don't mean nothing. Some of them get pretty loose from the exercises. You can't tell, I don't think.
This one was good. Real good. Probably the best seeding I ever had. Most of the time, with the new ones you gotta start out slow, 'cause they're usually scared and their slits are never wet enough. This one was different. I get to her and her mound's already rocking up and down like she's begging for it.
Her pelt's already dripping wet and her slit's open and ready. She's breathing real fast and her teats are shaking and her nipples are sticking up hard. My bulb sac got tight and my shaft got hard as soon as I saw her.
I bend down to stick it into her and she puts her arms around me and pulls me down on top of her. Then she grabs my shaft, sticks it in her mound crack and pushes herself up at it. I sink in real deep. It was nice and tight and I start pushing in and out right away.
This one's really wet, and she gets me real excited right away, so I started out pretty fast. Not fast enough for her, though. She grabs my butt and pulls me deeper into her, making me go faster and harder. Her pocket's squeezing my shaft like it's got teeth, like it was trying to milk the seed right out of it.
This is making me even more excited and pretty soon I'm pounding it into her so hard I thought I was gonna break her in two.
She keeps it up, though. She was pounding up at me as hard and as fast as I was hammering it into her, making me punch in deeper and deeper, trying to drive my shaft up her throat. It didn't take long before I'm feeling my bulbs trying to explode. I usually try to hold off letting go, 'cause then I shoot really deep into the egg pocket. Besides, it feels real good if I hold it in as long as I can. She wants it so bad, though, that I just can't keep it in, and I end up squeezing off the longest wad of seed that ever came out of me. Then another and another. It went on forever, it was great! I pumped her full, enough for a dozen, I figure. I remember thinking that this one's going to have a litter.
She knows right away. Some of them can tell, and it's great when they do, 'cause they get all excited when they know right when the seed's in them. I didn't think this one could get more excited, but she goes nuts! She's shaking and screaming and she didn't stop until after it was over and I fell on top of her.
When I pull out, she kind of whimperes like she's real sorry it's over.
Maybe she did get her pocket pumped before I filled her. She really enjoys having her mound pounded. About a month after the seeding she comes to me and says I didn't do it right 'cause her pocket's still empty. Now, I look at her and there ain't no way she ain't been bred, because her belly's already bulging, her teats are bigger and her nipples are bloated and dark. There ain't no way my seed didn't root, and I start to tell her as much, but before I get to she starts telling me she can't wait until summer and I have to do it to her right there out of season and in private!
I know better, right? I start to try to get away from her, but she grabs my hand and starts rubbing in into her pelt. It was dripping wet. She pushes my fingers up her slit and she's all hot and open. Then she drops down on her back and starts poking her mound up at me, pulling open her slit with her fingers, showing me how ready she is.
What am I supposed to do? I feel my shaft start rising, but I say to myself that I can't do a seeding in private, and there ain't no way I can do it out of season. So I tell her I'm not ready to breed, but she takes one look at my thickening shaft, and she says she knows better. She reaches up and starts rubbing my shaft right under its head, and all of a sudden I don't just want to seed her, I need to pump her full.
My bulbs are filling up so fast it starts oozing out of the tip of my shaft. She sits up and, I swear, she licks the drop off with her tongue! Then she starts licking all over the head and finally just puts the whole thing in her mouth and starts sucking on it. It's incredible! Her tongue is rubbing hard under the head and my bulbs are so full they start aching and I'm thinking I'm gonna fill her mouth full.
Just before I blow she pops me out of her mouth, lays back and pulls me down on top of her. I grab at her hips and pull her up off the ground while I rip my shaft into her. We're pounding away, she's screaming like a slaughtered bird and I'm grunting like an angry pig. She's got her legs wrapped around me and her feet are on my butt, pushing me deeper and deeper into her. Then I can feel my bulbs start squeezing the seed up and out and my shaft starts pumping it out of me and into her. I'm squirting a flood into her pocket. Wasted, I figure, but she's wailing and shaking and her insides are pulling and biting at my shaft, so it's not a total loss.
My bulbs finally empty and I try to pull out, but she grabs my butt and keeps me tight inside her, squeezing and milking it until it goes limp and she squeezes it out. She reaches down and starts running her fingernails up and down the underside of it and then she she sit up and puts it in her mouth again, licking and sucking out any seed that left in there while squeezing my bulb sac with her other hand.
I didn't know why she'd say the seeding didn't take when anyone could see she was planted and growing, but about a month later, she wanted me to do it again. What was I supposed to do?
All I did was practice. They told us to practice, so I did. I just didn't see what was so wrong with using a real shaft instead of that nasty mock one. I couldn't see anything wrong with getting with a breeder and exercising with his shaft. I didn't think you could get seeded out of season. Anyway, that what I was told. They said you can't seed out of season.
Actually, he said he couldn't seed out of season.
I guess I first thought about it at the winter seeding. I was waiting for the ceremony to begin, looking at the participants. They were waiting, legs apart and ready, lying on the seeding beds. I'd been to the seeding ceremonies for as long as I could remember, but this time it was different. I knew that next season I'd be participating. It would be me on the bed waiting, and the rest would be watching me. Already, I was getting nervous about it.
I focused on my friend, Celene. She'd told me all about the preparations she had to do, like the exercising and the grooming.
She looked beautiful. Her pelt was all fluffed and wet, her nipples were full and rosy and her head was tilted back so her long hair cascaded back like a waterfall, pooling onto the bed. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, which was quick in anticipation.
She didn't have long to wait. The breeder that was chosen for her came up from behind her. I got a full view of hin. His shoulders were wide, his chest large and finely covered with fur. His thick shaft stuck straight out from his pelt, and his bulb sac was enormous.
He stood right behind her and leaned over her. His shaft hung down just above her, pointing at her face. He put his hands on her shoulders and when she opened her eyes, her mouth dropped open at the sight of him and she flinched visibly. It looked almost as if he was going to drop his shaft into her open mouth, but he just snorted and walked over her, then turned and dropped to his knees between her legs. Then he fell upon her and pushed his hips into her.
She cried aloud at his entry. He started crushing himself into her mound over and over, and she screamed with each invasion. He pounded into her faster and faster, pushing her across the bed, until he started grunting with each violent thrust and then his back arched and he fell on top of her.
Celene was still screaming, and she continued screaming even after he pulled himself up and out of her and walked away. It was probably the most savage seeding I'd ever seen. The seed that seeped out from Celene's swollen mound was streaked with red. I guessed she hadn't practiced enough and wasn't as wet as she should have been.
I watched the other couplings. Some of the breeders were pumping hard and fast, others were pushing with long, slow strokes, but few of the participants seemed to be experiencing much pain. There was a lot of motion and groaning and crying, but most of it seemed to be just from the excitement. I swore there and then that I'd do whatever I had to do to be prepared for the seeding.
I looked at the different techniques of all breeders that day. Some did their seeding with gentleness and tenderness; others were fierce and violent. I knew that our mates were determined just before the seeding. There was no way to know what mine would be like. I had to plan for the most violent one. I had to plan for Celene's breeder.
So when the instructions began, I listened hard and asked questions when I didn't understand something. I really didn't understand why we couldn't prepare by practicing with the breeders, and I asked why we couldn't. They'd told us that the breeders couldn't seed us except during the ceremony, so why not use them for practice. All they did was laugh at me. I figured it was because they hadn't figured that out for themselves.
When I saw the mock shafts they gave us, I was really disappointed. They didn't look anything like the real shafts I'd seen in the ceremony. First of all, they were a lot smaller, and besides, they were really cold. I practiced with it, but it just didn't feel right to me. I just wasn't lubricating like I should have. Worse, I couldn't break my blockage. I just wasn 't wet enough, so every time I tried to push it into me, it hurt so bad I'd have to stop.
It was about a month before the ceremony, two weeks before my last evacuatlion, that I started to panic. I wasn't getting anywhere and I had to do something, and the only thing I could think of was to get a breeder to help me.
I went to the savage one; the one that took Celene. I thought if I could get him to help me, I'd be ready for anything. When I went to him, I was surprised to see that the shaft that was so huge during the ceremony dangled small and limp from his pelt. For a moment I dodn't know what to do, but I had to do something, so I just started talking. I told him that I'd watched him serve during the winter seeding and told him that I was ready and preparing myself for the spring. He looked at me strangely, and said he could see that I was ready and that I looked fine just the way I was. I said I was having trouble lubricating and I asked him if he could do anything to help.
His eyes widened. He didn't say anything, but I think he was confused by my question. With apprehension in his eyes, he told me he couldn't seed anyone out of season. I told him I didn't want him to seed me now, that I knew he couldn't seed me now. I just needed help with my lubrication and could he help me.
He said it was impossible, that there was nothing he could do except at the ceremony. I said that maybe he knew what I was doing wrong with the mock shaft and he could just help me do it right. I could see he was getting anxious. He angrily repeated that he couldn't seed out of season and then he turned away.
I shouted back that I knew he couldn't seed me out of season, that I didn't want him to seed me out of season, that I only wanted him to help me with my lubrication because I needed to be able to lubricate because I didn't want to get torn up the way he tore up Celene and I was scared, real scared, and then I just sat and started crying because I really was scared.
He just stood there and looked at me. Then his eyes closed because he remembered the winter ceremony. He quietly said that he was really sorry he'd performed so brutally. It was the first time he'd served in the seeding. He was very excited and his passion overcame him. I said I couldn't imagine how strong the desire to seed can become; he hadn't realized how powerful his drive was until it overwhelmed him. He was sad that Celene was hurt, but afterward he was told that she hadn't prepared herself properly and he couldn't have helped that.
I asked him if he couldn't help me.
He closed his eyes again and exhaled. When he opened them again I thought I saw a flash of fear in them. He asked me what I wanted him to do.
I said I wasn't sure. I only knew that I was supposed to practice with the mock shaft, and it was supposed to help me make myself wet. I suggested that if he could make his shaft hard, he could maybe rub it against my mound. I looked down at it and saw that it actually was getting firmer.
He got that strange look in his eyes again and started to laugh. He said that might be dangerous. I asked him why. He just sighed.
I suggested instead that he should use his hand, and I laid down and spread my legs and lift my knees. He shook his head and sat down beside me, reached down betewwn my legs and put his hand on my mound. He prodded me with his middle finger and I was very dry, so he put the finger in his mouth to wet it, and then he prodded some more. He worked his finger up and down my furrow, trying to tickle me into lubricating, I guess. Then he touched that spot that Rosemary told us about later, and I jumped and pushed him away.
It took us both by surprise. He told me I had to relax and I thought, if I could relax, I wouldn't be lying here with his hand between my legs. I told him I'd try and took a deep breath. My breasts rose, and my left nipple brushed against his forearm. I shivered, my eyelids fluttered, the nipple got hard, and I felt myself suddenly getting wet! I moved my back to rub the nipple against his arm and I got wetter. I pulled his hand up and pressed it against my breast and the nipple pulsed into his palm. He began to kneed and squeeze it. I started getting really wet and my hips started to make these involuntary little jerks.
That's when I felt something against my hip. I looked down and saw his shaft pushing against me, about half as large as it was the day of the seeding, rising up from his pelt and getting larger.
His hands were becoming more active on my body, and his breathing became short and heavy. My breathing was coming in shorter gasps as well. I stared at his shaft, growing and firming to the size I remembered it, bobbing up and down with his breathing. I wanted to touch it, just to know what if felt like. It didn't look as hard and cold as the mock shaft. I dropped my hand onto his chest and and slid it slowly down to his stomach. I know he felt and saw what I was doing, because his breathing got even quicker. He didn't stop me.
When my hand reached the hollow in his pelt where the shaft began to jut out, he grunted. I looked up, and his eyes were shut and his mouth was open, breathing heavily. Still, he didn't seem to want me to stop. I ran my fingertips along the top of the shank and found it was really a lot softer than the hard mock shaft they gave us. The purple head was really soft and cushiony. I curled my fingers around the thickness of it, feeling its underside, and when I touched just under the head, it suddenly jumped and he groaned loudly.
He bent himself closer to me and caressed my breast and mound with an increasing urgency, causing a glowing warmth to rise in me. I began to moan as the fire spread through me; my back writhed and and my hips jerked up and down, urging him to press harder and deeper. I wrapped my hand tightly around his shaft and intently stroked under the head with my fingertips.
Suddenly fell onto his back and pulled me onto him, crushing my breasts to his chest. I ground my nipples into him. His arms slid down my back and his fingers dug into my bottom as he lifted my thrusting hips above his. His head bent down into the hollow of my neck and I felt his clenched teeth as his lips nipped my skin. His knees came up and jammed between mine, spreading my legs apart. I coiled around him. He pulled my hips down and I felt the head of his shaft dip into the folds of my mound. I knew he was about to ram himself into me, but I didn't care. All I knew was that the feeling of his shaft pressing up into my dripping furrow was causing the flames to lick inside me.
He thrust hinself sharply up, but the shaft slipped too low and it slid through the crevice between my buttocks. I pressed my mound tight to his pelt, feeling the bristles rub into my cleft. We both pulled back for the penetrating thrust and then we crashed together. The shaft again missed and slid up between us against my stomach, burying itself tightly into our entwined pelts.
Then it started to throb and thick spurts of warm fluid suddenly started gushing out of it. His entire body spasmed and his back arched up. His hips lifed me as they jerked up and down, thrusting himself against my stomach, squirting the oil up so forcefully that I felt it spatter onto my breasts. His hands clutched my hips and pulled me tightly to him and I was consumed by the fire deep within me as we pounded into each other.
Our thrashing slowed and finally our convulsing hands relaxed. For a while we just lay there exhausted, our hearts pounding and swallowing great gulps of air. I'd collapsed on top of him with my head on his chest and his shaft still pressed between us.
As the heat began to fade and I came back to reality, I began to realize what had happened. I sat up and looked at the slick stickiness that covered my stomach and breasts, then I looked down at the source of the mess. The shaft was shrinking back to its deceptively passive size. His eyes were closed, and he breathing was becoming a snore. I shook his shoulders and started yelling at him. What was this stuff? Was it his seed? Didn't he say he couldn't seed out of season?
He said he didn't know if was seed or if it was potent. Long ago he asked the same questions that all the young ones ask when they have their first discharge. All they're told is that they can't seed out of season and not to try to force discharge. If they ask any more questions, they're beaten. All he knew is that we shouldn't be doing what we were doing. Still, even if it was seed, it couldn't take root unless it was pushed up through my mound canal into my breeding pocket.
I got up and, without speaking a word, left him and went down to the river to rinse off the caking discharge. I was lucky that nobody saw me along the way. I also realized how fortunate I was that I'd not been seeded then and there. I was shaken by the forcefulness, not of him, but of the feelings that had overwhelmed me to the point that I'd have stuffed his shaft into me if fortune hadn't slid it upward instead of in.
Yet the heat that had passed between us had made me wet. I began to lubricate even while remembering the danger. Maybe I was actually lubricating because of the danger.
That night I did my exercises, knees up and legs spread. I pretended he was kneeling there between them. I felt his arms reaching down to my breasts, his hand on my nipples, his fingers squeezing and pinching. I felt his arms reaching down to my pelt, his hands separating the folds of my mound, his fingers stroking the length of the cleft. I pinched my nipples and stoked my furrow and the warmth filled me, flooded me, saturated me. I began to shake and my hips began to jerk the way they did that afternoon. The warmth flowed though me until the spasms took over my being and my pelt was drenched with my fluids. Over and over, I made the spasms come.
I lifted the mock shaft, imagining it to be his, and placed it in the folds and stroked within the cleft. It was cold. I went cold. I tried to pretend it was his shaft and I curled my hand around it and caressed it under its head. It was cold and lifeless. It was no use.
Every time I tried to use the mock shaft to break the membrane, I dried up. I even tried to force it into me without lubrication, but it was so painful that I couldn't even get the shaft between my folds without wincing. That's when the idea hit me. I could let his shaft break the barrier.