In the Valley of the Mountain Lions - Book 5
Copyright© 2024 by August the Strong
Chapter 25: Performance Tests for Our Older Students
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 25: Performance Tests for Our Older Students - The people of this once remote valley in the Andes have new prospects. They now have phones, internet and contact with people. They can finally buy the basics. The group of twelve-year-old girls abducted to Peru are integrating better and better. They often look enviously at the pregnant teenagers and want to have their first sexual experiences too. Above all, there is one important task: to track down the billions of dollars belonging to the dead criminal Rus and put them to good use.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft ft/ft Teenagers Consensual Fiction Harem Interracial
The next ten days passed as planned, with no excessive exertion and virtually no stress. As I had to travel to the provincial capital several times, Babette assumed military command once again. All of the students were making good progress with their education, as we had all the necessary teaching materials. The students’ spirits were high. Construction of the kindergarten was progressing well, and the foundations of the two adjacent houses had also been completed. The Indios in their small village were hard at work and happy to finally be breathing clean mountain air. After the noise and dirt of the tunnel construction, peace and quiet had returned to our valley. What more could my heart desire?
Of course, not everything went smoothly. During a phone call, the planning office informed me that planning our dam and applying for a building permit would take at least 18 months, possibly even two years. Following approval, we could expect a construction period of four to five years under the most favourable schedule. This rendered tunnel construction almost pointless at that moment in time. It was a major setback for my plans. I had hoped that we could drive over the dam by 2024 to enable some of the older students to study in Trujillo. The chief architect told me that building a bridge wouldn’t be much faster. Then I had an idea. Why not build a simple cable car to connect our tunnel to the opposite slope? The architect was enthusiastic about this idea. At the time, his office was planning to build a cable car line to connect the Miraflores district of Lima with the coast. A small project in the mountains would be a good test run for them. He wanted to come to our valley with an expert from the Austrian company Doppelmayr, who was in Lima at the time, to assess the feasibility of such a project. This happened the following Thursday. Although Doppelmayr showed no interest in the project, he outlined its feasibility and put us in touch with an experienced Bolivian company. They recommended a cable car with one cabin for eight people, swinging back and forth horizontally, and estimated construction costs at between $500,000 and $600,000. That would be brilliant.
For this project, we needed cash or a large enough balance in the bank account. I couldn’t afford a project like this with the euros in my buried suitcase. Weeks ago, the goldsmith from Mersto, Mr Uribe, had promised to inspect our two gold extraction machines and commission them if possible. When he came to see us on Friday, he was impressed by the quality of our machines, but ultimately only managed to commission the electrolysis plant. He stayed until Sunday, teaching Luca and Diego the basics of fine gold production and inviting Luca to his workshop in Mersto for a few days of specialised training. Meanwhile, Zarina’s friend Yu Yuan worked on the larger specialised machine, attempting to install and start the plant using the Chinese operating instructions. And he succeeded. This almost automatic production plant can produce gold with a purity of 999, but some necessary chemicals and operating materials were missing. We ordered these from China, but they would take 30-50 days to arrive.
My sex life was fulfilling and wonderful, too. Luisa was seven months pregnant and just wanted companionship and affection. Ramona, on the other hand, was very demanding. She wanted to see me every day, and our sex life was very varied. She always found new ideas online. Sometimes, however, we laughed more at our attempts than we enjoyed them. I had set aside Wednesday for the older students again, and Esther took charge of the planning as usual. But many were no longer interested. Kira, Sula, and Fahsai were all heavily pregnant. Daja had her boyfriend Luca, Priya had Ngu, Zarina had Yu, and Cara had Louis, the construction worker. Babette had just given birth to Nicolas, and Ananda had a pen pal in India and was no longer interested in sex. So, only Esther, Mayari, and Isabella took turns sharing my bed, and how! I could write a whole book about those hours together. The young women were very demanding, but also incredibly kind to me. Every Wednesday was a blessing for my soul.
And every Saturday, meetings for our pregnant women took place in my bathroom and bedroom again. Heidy, Willka, and Kantu were also permitted to attend. Throughout the event, Cara and Qesra took exemplary care of our guests’ physical well-being, serving them small snacks and homemade lemonade. Our doctor usually joined us, and we all enjoyed giving massages to the expectant mothers, who loved the tender treatment. Whenever the mood was at its best, the women sang their favourite lullaby, “The Skye Boat Song”.
Though the waves leap
Soft shall ye sleep
Ocean’s a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.
At the end of these marvellous evenings, Amira came over and practised the Spanish lullaby ‘Arrorro mi niño’ with the women, explaining the Spanish lyrics. By the third evening, everyone was singing along, and they all embraced each other at the end. What magnificent women they were!
For our older students who were not pregnant, the week of their academic progress assessment was gradually approaching. Our aim was to establish whether their level of education met the requirements of the Peruvian education system. Three students were unable to participate: Sula was due to give birth just before the assessment week, Fahsai was due on Christmas Eve and Daja was due at the end of March the following year. Although Daja was only six months pregnant and could certainly have taken the exams, I didn’t want any discussions about pregnancies or the young mothers’ children during their first visit to a Peruvian school.
In August, we had arranged with the principal of the public school, the Escuela Pública, that our young women would be allowed to attend a few classes from December 9th to 13th and take the exams for the completion of the 9th grade, the third year of secondary school.
The principal of Mersto had sent us the schedule in writing. On the first two days, the students were scheduled to have three double lessons in six different subjects; starting at 8 a.m. Written and oral exams were scheduled for the afternoons and all-day Thursday.
“Every Monday at 7:30 a.m., the week begins with roll call and the singing of the national anthem,” the principal told us. All students in Peru are required to memorise the lyrics of the national anthem and be able to recite them.
Excitement had been building almost hourly over the last two weeks until, on the Friday before last, I finally had to intervene. “Enough of the whining! The exams are challenging, but many of you will find them straightforward. For some of you, they’re a bit challenging, but they’re solvable, nonetheless. Believe me, thanks to Lenya, you’re unbeatable in maths, and thanks to Ms Liebknecht, you’re great in English. If you’re afraid of them, it’s your own fault. Spanish will be difficult because we started lessons too late. So, I’ve made a decision: Tomorrow, each of you will write a letter to your mother in Spanish, regardless of how you feel about her. You can express your anger at your situation or tell us what you’ve been doing and what you’ve particularly enjoyed over the past few years. Amira and Antonio, please check the spelling and grammar. Okay?”
“The physical education exam, on the other hand, is child’s play for you. To get an A in the long jump, for example, you have to jump 3.6 metres, run 100 metres in 15.6 seconds and run 800 metres in three minutes. You’ll easily meet the higher standards set for boys. Then you get to choose a ball game. Do you foresee any problems, or is everything alright?”
“We’re all scared of physics, chemistry, and biology,” Cara exclaimed.
Priya added, “And then there’s national studies! What will they ask us?”
“Basically, it’s what you saw in the videos about Peru and the Andes. You know the lyrics of the national anthem. A sentence from it is always a good place to start, no matter what the question is. Let’s practise again next week. Believe me, I watched two lessons with Amira, one with a Year 9 class and one with a Year 10 class. With the knowledge of the best students, you can easily keep up, don’t you agree, Amira? What do you say?”
Amira laughed, “It’s nice how seriously you all take this. If you perform worse than their students, I’ll skip my wedding.”
Everyone laughed, knowing how excited their Spanish teacher was about her wedding. “It’s up to you whether I get to marry Antonio or not. I have complete trust in you.”
First came a gentle cheer, then a burst of enthusiasm rang through the palazzo.
Antonio suggested singing the Peruvian national anthem and the most beautiful Spanish church hymn once more. The national anthem had been rehearsed, but there was none of the national pride that Peruvian schools strive for. Why would there be? In contrast, the hymn was sung superbly. But I didn’t want to lecture the girls. I knew they would sing differently with a crowd of teachers and students looking on.
Three days later, I received the corrected Spanish documents from Amira. Many of the pages were covered in corrections. Amira said the spelling was awful, but the content was incredibly clear. She even cried over some of the girls’ fates while correcting it. The spelling was graded from ‘good’ to ‘sufficient’, and the content from ‘very good’ to ‘good’. Antonio said that would be perfectly sufficient for the exam.
“Thank you both. Nevertheless, I would ask you to run a few special lessons to explain the most common mistakes and ensure the students can spell the words correctly.”
There were only a few days left until our young women’s first encounter with reality: a new school system and people who thought differently. However, there was still a lot to do before then. I drove to Trujillo with the pregnant Daja, Heidy and Willka; all three were due to give birth next year, to buy beautiful dresses for them. It was also an excuse to ensure that Daja wouldn’t realise that we were specifically looking for her wedding dress, which she was unaware of. Three days earlier, we had bought elegant suits for Luca and Diego for Amira and Antonio’s wedding. Luca’s suit was, of course, more formal as he had grown considerably and now had the beginnings of a man’s figure. Antonio and Amira took the opportunity to come along and get dressed as well.
While the three ladies were receiving expert advice and trying on one item of clothing after another in the women’s clothing store, I quickly ran to the jeweller’s where I bought numerous necklaces and other jewellery four months ago. Within a few minutes, I had two beautiful wedding rings engraved with ‘In deep love, D&L, 22/12/2019’. Such a level of service would have been unthinkable in Belgium. Babette had exchanged rings with Daja as requested so that I could get an approximate size for her ring finger.
The ladies had agreed on three chic trouser suits with adjustable waist sizes. I also naturally bought a series of dresses patterned after the yellow dress that our young Peruvian mother, ‘Mama Olivia’, had worn in May. Amira and Daja took turns trying on the dresses while Heidy offered her opinions and took photos. In total, we bought almost twenty dresses, but only one white one, which looked particularly good on Daja. The others were for the women and mothers in the valley. I got two bridal veils as a gift from the shopkeeper in his office without anyone noticing. We bought twelve saris for our slender younger students and eight smaller Indian dresses for the kindergarten girls in an Indian shop. Also, I bought white wedding shoes in sizes 38 and 39. Daja was currently wearing a size 37, but she would definitely need a size 38 by the wedding.
Exclusive wedding dresses were ordered online for Luisa, Ramona, Carmen, Olivia, Daryna, and Alejandra. The two Condorcan women sewed their own dresses from fine fabric. I didn’t need to buy any new clothes. The rust-coloured tuxedo that I had worn to the dance show two years ago still fit. My two wives in the palazzo complimented me on my athletic figure, but Ramona couldn’t stop mocking me: “A good rooster never gets fat.”
On the way back, we stopped at the Southern Cross Hotel in Mersto. The owner greeted me cheerfully. He said that his small hotel had never been busier than after I booked eight double rooms for the week beginning 8 December. He happily agreed to let our unmarried couple use a double room, as Amira and Antonio were going to be helping our examinees for the whole week. He also reserved a room for me, even though I only intended to stay one or two nights. Anyone who wanted to sleep in ‘civilisation’ for once could use it.
On Sunday, I drove to the hotel with Luca and the ten young women. The handover of the candidates’ many small children to their godparents, including Adriana and Valentina, went smoothly. Olivia fostered Priya’s three children. She received support from her mother and grandmother. Daja looked after Kira’s two children. Isabella, Cara, Babette, and Kira had pumped their breast milk, but were eager to return on Tuesday or Wednesday to breastfeed their children. On the other days, they would pump their milk and store it in sealable containers in a refrigerator that had been installed at the hotel on my request.
This Sunday was the most beautiful day of the summer, which had just begun. Here in the lowlands, it was warm but not oppressive, unlike in Ashmanton. However, that would soon change as the rainy season was about to begin. We took a stroll through the small town at the foot of the Cordilleras and took Luca to see the master goldsmith. He would be living and working with Mr Uribe for another week. Together, they would use various methods to turn ten kilograms of gold ore into ‘fine gold’ with a gold content of 99.9%. Luca looked back at us shyly. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole situation. The nearly fourteen-year-old was feeling unsettled, all alone in a strange house with an unknown family. Our ladies waved to him and cheered him up.
Our group attracted the attention of the local residents. The ten young women and I headed towards the centre, giggling like little girls and speaking louder than usual out of embarrassment. More and more teenagers joined us. From the central square, we gazed at the fantastic mountain panorama. The three-thousand-metre peaks rose majestically directly behind the plain. Although there were no snow-capped peaks visible from here, the mountains seemed colossal, as if forming an impenetrable wall out of the plain. This view was worth capturing on camera, but my ladies were shy in front of the onlookers and declined to have their photo taken.
We sat on three benches surrounding a circular garden beautifully decorated with flowers. A vendor who had converted his bicycle into a stall came over and brought us drinks and saltenas: small, meat-filled dumplings. I had actually hoped to escape the curious attention of the locals in the park, but the opposite was true. We couldn’t get any peace. A swarm of children practically besieged us. The young people were captivated by the beauty of our girls. It seemed as if all the teenagers in the city were in the park. They hooted and whistled. When a few of them finally tried to touch my companions that was the last straw. We ran to the school gates, pursued by at least twenty bicycles and scooters. Nobody dared go behind the school gate, but countless young men surrounded the fence.
The school principal came to meet us. The commotion near his school had disturbed his Sunday peace. After reprimanding the onlookers, all of whom were his students or former pupils, he led us through the school. Outside, on the sports field, we watched a group of boys playing football on a small pitch. While I was talking to the headmaster, who was proudly showing me the small gym, we didn’t notice eight girls suddenly taking off their blouses and jeans. Wearing only their undershirts and sports shorts, they played against the boys. It was only when the game was in full swing that we noticed, as increasingly loud shouts and whistles echoed through the air. It was truly inappropriate. I would never have allowed it, but it was too late now. Some of the tight tank tops barely covered the bras or bare breasts of some of the girls.
A veritable mass migration of young people began around the school grounds. Everyone wanted to see the strange girls play football. At first, there was laughter and provocative shouting, but when our team was leading 3-1 and our players were consistently outrunning the boys, there was applause. Mr Martinez, the headteacher, shook his head in amazement. He had never seen such a good girls’ team before. Most of the boys were sixteen years old and played actively in the city’s youth team. “We can cancel the sports exam. Your students are in top shape,” the principal praised.
Suddenly, the harmony ended. A boy kicked Kira from behind as she ran towards the soccer goal alone. Babette ran over and shook the boy. He swung his fist at her, but she easily parried the blow. Seconds later, the boy was whimpering on the ground. Babette had thrown him over her hip with her mighty strength and threatened to kick him. First there was a hellish roar, then suddenly complete silence. I was already on my way to prevent a mass brawl.
“Peace?” asked my assistant, picking up the boy and offering him her hand. He nodded, took her hand, and apologised to Kira. I immediately sensed that the audience’s applause was sincere. Babette had ensured respect through her energy.
Mayari led Kira, whose knees were bleeding and who could barely walk, over to the discarded clothing. Esther had her small first aid kit with her again and tended to the injured woman’s wounds before helping her get dressed. Babette and Mayari carried Kira, arms crossed, towards the hotel. However, at the gate, two older boys helped Kira onto a bike trailer. They drove our unfortunate companion to the hotel. We stormed after them, surrounded by squealing brakes and panting teenagers. Not many could keep up with our pace, I noted with pride. We were a well-trained, athletic team.
The hotel owner maintained order. Nevertheless, several young people continued to besiege the hotel from across the street, making a spectacle of themselves. In the hotel garden, which was full of beautiful old trees, cool drinks were served first, followed by dinner. My friends were in the mood for jokes again, and even Kira joined in. Lenya fetched her guitar from her room. The girls sang songs that everyone could sing along to. Lenya suddenly started playing the tango-like melody of the national folksong, ‘Contigo, Perú’. She sang the Spanish lyrics with Esther, Isabella, and Mayari. The cook, a lady, was standing by the door and crying.