Chapter 6: Ius Primae Noctis

The mairie had called me yesterday to ask for our details. We have to co-sign as witnesses. When I ask her for the dress code, the secretary laughs “sans-culotte!” [without pants] She is a childhood friend of Anaïs and must have heard the whole story. “Ah, non.” < giggles> Assez formelle, long jupon et pour vous ... une veste.” [Rather formal, evening dress and for you a jacket]

“Mais commando?” I ask. “Ah, Oiais!” laughing, she disconnects.

Somewhat guiltily I wake up. ‘Was not the intention”’ haunts my head like a mantra and keeps my eyes closed firmly when I feel movement next to me on the bed. With a kiss on my nose, I dare to look. Her mysteriously dark eyes are shining, like nothing I’ve seen before, these weeks. Her full, wetly licked lips seek mine, the tip of her tongue flicking back and forth over them, as if to request entrance. My tongue tip squeaks out and I feel the hot touch all the way down to my lower abdomen. She too I hope.

Then comes a finger, from below I think, which she places on my mouth. “Taste, our blend of love and pleasure. You don’t know when to stop either!” So delicious that she has a place to lovingly preserve the residue of our play for hours to come.

I stretch and languidly slide my head between her legs. She spreads in anticipation because she knows, once again, I want to snack on our past orgasms. I kiss her gently and lick my way inside her little boat. How to love a full-fucked cunt, I learned from girlfriends, who explained the feelings inside to me as well.

Then my fingers take over,.And my eyes! And my nose! And again I manage to make her cum. She moans, I feel intensely happy...

“Your mustache is itching. And your stubbles arealready rubbing again. Doucement, me poenie is sensitive. Six times filling me! Top, you, tonight!” I chuckle between her full, black lips, proud though... “You’ve played me a lot more in one day, than I hoped. I’ve been lurking for a week about having violent sex with you. Have for a few days now, that at your lightest touch -doesn’t matter where- my pussy shoots wet, sometimes even small salvos behind my mound. And now...” she sighs deeply from her lower abdomen, of pleasure, I think with my proud stiffness.

“Such a tension arc is there between us, but as far as I’m concerned it was not the intention, not yet. I could have teased you for days to come. We men can do that, just by repeating Onans’ sins often” I laugh.

“Huh, you? probably not. Onan?”

“Onan desired his seductive daughters fiercely. Turned aside on his mattress, he flowed his seed to earth. And God was very angry about that. That’s why us boys were taught to lay on our back and spit on our bellies, less sinful, that.”

“And, how did it end?”

“State to me, they were both pregnant at one point, so it didn’t work out for him either.”

In the village square, church and mairie face each other. Even before the village (16 houses and a bar-tabac) we were hoarded to the side by apparently the bride and groom’s brothers, to park. I watch Diane get out of the car and tighten her ass in that red dress with slits. In a flash, an entire evening and night of hot sex shoots through my mind. Visibly hard, I step out and offer my lover an arm. The men grin hornily as she briefly extends her leg out of the skirt and nods at my fly. With bungalow tent.

“You guys are staying until after consumation, right?” one asks. “She looks so good!” and his dreamy eyes undress her and he too gets a bungalow tent, size 2. He walks up to us with probably a porn movie full of black tits and cunts in his head.

The corsages, which he pins on us, are purple roses, on the verge of opening, still just resembling a glans in a long foreskin. We belong now.

When we arrive in the square, he leads us to a small, old woman, leaning stately on her cane. “Mémé, these are the witnesses” says the brother and looks at me questioningly. “Diane and Desi” introducing us.

“Benoît” he laughs as Mémé grabs his tent. “Unchaste thoughts, you again, huh? I always have to be the strict grandmère too!”

She widens her arms and we give bisous. She whispers in Diane’s ear “I can tell by your attitude, that he’s good and hot for you. And he’s not the youngest!” Diane laughs and confesses “All night Mémé, all night he played me.”

This escapes me as the heavy church bell is chiming gayly as the bride and groom walk into the square, preceded by two groomsmen and two bridesmaids, baskets of rose petals in hand. He in a light blue tuxedo without a shirt and barefoot in his white shoes, she on white stilettos in a transparent jumpsuit, with white flowers in the strategic places, or almost, little Desi thinks. Her bouquet is of pink and red lilies, just out of bud. Tonight they will be wide open, like an orgiastic screaming couple...

The maire, wearing the red-white-and-blue sash, comes up on the mairie’s steps, and when the bells fall silent, he invites us on either side and the couple before him.

They promise each other somewhat timidly - and not as intimately and glowingly as they did on the rock - eternal fidelity. We applaud and whistle as they kiss each other intimately. I feel her mouth still on mine and look at Diane. She falls around my neck, like many couples around us. French kissing, isn’t that why it’s called thus?

Then we go inside and sign the register that we witnessed their vows. And how! The maire was watching amused as we congratulated the bride and groom. Especially when me and Gaël went wild.

The church’s light bell called us to Mass and the vows before God. How special for the most promiscuous village in the region, I guess. Traditions, traditions.

Turns out the family has a ‘maison de maître’ on the outskirts of the village in a beautiful park. Slightly smaller than a chateau, but impressively 18th-century. Tables are set out on the lawn in a horseshoe shape, but the welcome is around the large fountain. Diane apparently has honey on her pussy, the siblings and their entourage are always looking for us, getting acquainted, secretly stroking her buttocks and some feeling into my crotch, guys ... They ask a hundred out about the rock, if we are there too for... “No, Neee, not there, we are FWB.” Little knowledge of English here, but then again that’s obvious. And again inquiring if we will stay after the consumation. And then when I ask why, they laugh hornily and wink.

In the corner of my eye I see Mémé flirting with the little groomsmen and their girls. Shall I ask her? She looks up from teaching the boys to kiss and gestures for me to come sit next to her.

“Won’t have these as lovers anymore” she says with a somewhat sad smile. Pointing with her head “All there, I taught them, to serve women, Mater Familias is a joyous task. And tonight, yes you come to ask me, I lead the family feast of consumation. Then we stand around them as they consummate their marriage, together with the Pater Familias, my son, to whom is due the ius primae noctis. And both of you are part of it. How much can Diane handle, because you have played so rough?”

“She has a lot of catching up to do, how she spent a few weeks just cuddling with me. I’m sure we’ll see her go out of her way, all lovers with your training...”

“You’re flirting, old man! And will you come to my collection tonight, too? I have a four-poster bed with notches in the legs for every successful man. Two for you, I understand? Hey Adeline, come here!” she calls a heavily pregnant woman.

She is beautiful, the way she radiates new life. She sits down on my knees, wraps her arm around my shoulder and looks at me penetratingly. Quickly my eyes wander into her full cutout, just above her nipples, trying to poke through the fabric. I smell them, too. She grabs my hand and places it on her stomach. “She’s kicking, wanting to feel me make love. Only then is she quiet for a moment. You must know, she was conceived on the rock at our vow and that makes her a special child. When you’ve satisfied us tonight, I’ll put you on my nipples.” Tjeez, what a horny image and already two appointments in my ball book.

The meal is not the sophisticated cuisine that foreigners attribute to France. No, here in the region it’s peasant dishes, where head meat, entrails, organs and legs are important ingredients. Diane sits among the couple’s siblings with a fat mouth munching on a pig’s leg, cheeks gleaming and admired for her French-Guyanà accent. Sexy, Antoine and Benoît appreciate that, just as I feel West Flemish Dutch as cock-stabbing horny. Don’t know why either.

I eat my plate of stew and crusty baguette with relish, washed down with a round, red wine from the grove, behind the village. Looking around, I see ordinary people, as at any fête eating and laughing and conversing. Only I understand, unseen, that here are intimate threads running between each, so unashamedly physical. It shows perhaps a bit, where I see them kissing not on the cheek but on the mouth, with tongue, or is that the excess of wine?

And when the little bridesmaids each got down on one knee with me and kiss me on the cheek with their bodies pressed against me, I feel like the grandfather I never was. “Are you going to make Mémé a big girl tonight?” I spit out my fresh sip of wine at this direct question. Ears to the wind, the children here. I affectionately run my hand from their crests over their backs “If she wants it! You girls have all the saying.” And they giggle.

The big attic is summer-warm and the low, yellowish evening light through the oval windows, just above the floor creates a mysterious atmosphere. At the top of the stairs we help each other out of our clothes. I unzip Adeline’s maternity dress and she steps out of it. She puts my hand over her pronged tits, prickly with anticipation and takes me to the play area, a four-poster bed with black sheets, well lit and surrounded by a plane of mattresses, hard and playable.

At the head a high chair with on it a now completely naked Mémé. An aged body, tight but wrinkled now, tells of her beauty in the past, with long hair, now white over her shoulders, still full, hanging tits, wide-legged sharing her vulva unashamedly to us.

Adeline looks for her Benoît and Diane comes to stand in front of me. Antoine partners Jerôme and into the circle step Gérard and Corinne and her sister Mélanie with Claude. François, beautiful man with gray curls, kisses his maman, Mémé, and stands beside her seat while she fumbles his sex.

We are silent as the couple enters, as if entering the bridal suite alone, giggling with anticipation about what they will do. He throws off his jacket and steps out of his pants and shoes, takes her in his arms for a deep kiss. As eagerly as their mouths also search each other’s necks and their hands caress each other’s backs. Behind her back he pulls open the zipper with his teeth and slides the jumpsuit off her shoulders, granting us her full nudity. He sits up, she widens her legs and his curly head between her thighs seeks out her golden slit, his tongue visibly touching her lips. Deftly he wriggles his way into her pink pleasure and we see that reflected on her face as well. His groom’s rod is stiff, his purple glans peaking out of the foreskin with already a trickle of pleasure. She moans and fingers her nipples big.

François, her father, comes with a mesh blindfold and ties it in front of her eyes, as if she must be blind to what is to follow. Gaël is now beside them and they lead her onto the bed. She lays on her back, wide-legged, strokes her pussy once more, and both men lie down beside her and kiss her in turn, their hands roaming all over her body. We see her shivering with pleasure, feeling the hands of her father, whom’s she has known since forever, and those of her lover, who is now her husband. And as they both suck and bite a nipple, their fingers caressing and trembling her vulva, she sighs in sign that she is ready for the ceremony.

François now rises above her on hands and toes and lowers himself slowly, while she curls up her mons for receiving. Gaël grabs the paternal cock, exposing the glans and aiming it at her opening.

“Ius primae noctis” says François loudly and solemnly, as he tucks into his daughter. “Amen” we say together, enjoying this incestuous penetration, of father and daughter, of landlord and subordinate, of husband and wife, celebrating the new union with their most intimate body parts.

She lies down now and wraps her legs around his, forcing him, deeper. We see his glutes tighten and relax, their pelvises turn on each other, and as he spreads a little, his balls pull up tight against his staff for the salvo of paternal seed. We know from Anaïs’ cries that she wants to come and Gaël sticks a finger in François’ hole. He bellowed and we saw his root throb as he witnessed his orgiastic squirting into his now - writhing with pleasure - daughter.

He slips out of her with, to his and our surprise, blood red cock! Immediately Gaël takes his rightful place as groom, sliding deep in where the squire’s seed has prepared his coming.