“My daughter,” Bettina said, “you have reached the age of sixteen. 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 children 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 tasted her cousins there, as they had tasted her. No cousin 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 through 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...”