Group Sex72 Hours of Immersion Pt. 02
"72 hours of immersion" (or, "Happy First-of-winter festival!")
This story will feature female, male, and mixed-sex (futanari, hermaphrodite, or whatever term works for you) as well as homosexual, pansexual, and heterosexual characters. Please don't read the story if that will offend you.
Part Two: The players
Harkje must have been exhausted. I woke and looked at my phone and discovered it was already 1050, but she was sleeping soundly. I got out of the sleeping bag I'd borrowed. My muscles protested; I hadn't slept on a floor since my first year of college. I stretched and winced at my little aches and pains, then I went to the large rucksack and looked inside it.
My companion had remembered the essentials. She had food, coffee, towels, at least one change of clothes, and bathroom necessities in the pack. She hadn't brought anything from my room at all. It would have been easy for her to sneak in and grab some of my stuff-then I realized that she hadn't gone near Ms. Garrikoet's place. If she had done so, people would have had reason to believe that I was with her. Since she said that a few people already suspected that, she had done the only sensible thing by leaving my things in my rented room. I hoped that it would all be safe there.
As I looked at the supplies, I knew that she was going to offer to lend me some of the clothing. It would be too big for me if it was hers, but she wasn't so much larger than I am that I would be swimming in her clothes.
I considered taking some of the clothes and one of the towels and going to the showers right away, but I found that I couldn't. It would be presumptuous to the point of being rude, especially when I considered that it must have taken her a lot of time and effort to sneak back without giving away what she was doing.
I didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but I was hungry and I wanted that shower, so I decided to risk being a small nuisance. I sat on my knees next to Harkje's sleeping bag and touched her shoulder.
After a little blinking, her soft green eyes focused on me. "I'm sorry to wake you," I said.
She half-mumbled, half-yawned something. I could tell from her body language that she meant, "Don't worry about it," or something similar.
"I wanted to get washed and dressed. May I use the clothes you brought?"
She sat up, rolled her shoulders, twisted her torso, and looked more awake. "Clothes. Yes." With a quick motion, she unzipped her sleeping bag and hopped out of it. She was in loose mint-green flannel pajamas; they looked comfortable and warm. I had figured I'd be staying in a hotel so I hadn't brought sleepwear on this trip. I'd felt warm enough in the sleeping bag, but standing in the cool room, I wished I was in more than just a faded, cropped t-shirt and cotton string-bikini panties.
Harkje produced a little bundle of clothes from her pack and held them out to me.
I put them on top of the towel I'd already fished from the bag. "Thank you. You can go back to sleep, you know."
"I have had plenty of sleep," she said. "Also, I did some thinking last night. I was not going to tell you, but I will-about how our village is different. Maybe you have seen. If not, I hope you will not be scared." She had selected a change of clothing and a towel too. I fell into step beside her, toward the showers.
When we got to the locker room, I put down the clothes and toiletries and stripped. I was standing kind of across from Harkje. She was doing the same thing I was doing. When she took off her pajama top, (I was a bit surprised; her breasts were larger than I'd thought) she put her hands on the waist of her bottoms. She looked me in the eye. I could see she was more than just nervous, she was scared. But why?
She tugged down the pajama bottoms-and the boxers she was wearing under them-with a quick motion, like she was ripping off a bandage.
Between her legs hung a penis and testicles.
Of course, I couldn't help staring for two or three seconds. When I looked back up at her, she looked really anxious, like she was ready to dodge if I threw something at her.
Okay, I was a little freaked out. But I didn't feel threatened. "It looks fine," I said, not able to think of much else to say. "Um, you are getting a sex change?"
She put her hands over her crotch and looked away from me. "This is a town secret. I am this way from birth. Many of us are."
I'm no biologist, but that sounded unlikely! "You were born with both?" I asked. She gave a small nod. "A lot of people in this town are born with both?" She nodded again. "How does that happen?"
"I don't know," she said. "Dr. Tomassov studies this, but I have not heard her most recent ideas about it."
Could it be true? For the moment, it didn't matter. "You can put down your hands," I said, trying to give Harkje a reassuring smile. "I've seen those before."
She blushed a little. We got our towels and toiletries and took our showers. I couldn't help being curious; I glanced at Harkje a couple of times. I don't think she noticed me looking. Comparing what I saw of her to previous boyfriends, her penis looked average-sized, or maybe just a little bigger. Of course, the flaccid state can be a poor predictor of the erect state, but I didn't care about her penis size, aside from sheer curiosity.
When we were drying ourselves and getting dressed, I noticed that my blonde companion was turning away and keeping her distance a little more than usual. "Really, I'm not bothered," I said to her. I put my hand on her shoulder and gave her a friendly pat. "We don't need to act differently."
We went to the home economics room (I was a little surprised they had one, but why shouldn't they?) and I made sausage-and-cheese omelets from the supplies Harkje had brought. I was a little worried that the smell might give us away, but she told me that the building's ventilation system made that very unlikely. We soon had a late breakfast. My tall companion helped me learn a bit more of the odd dialect the townspeople used.
"I had better go to work," Harkje said to me as she set down her fork.
"It's a festival; what kind of festival has work?"
"The hours are very short: 1200 to 1500. And working is not expected. Being at the place of work is."
"I think I understand," I said. If people still had to go to work, their admirers would know where to find them and score. Also, if this festival was really ancient-and Harkje had implied it was-then there would have been chores that needed to be done everyday, celebration or not. The festival had changed with the times, but not completely.
If I was honest with myself, I was a little curious to see how this thing worked, close-up. I like learning about other cultures, not just other languages. Seeing the dynamics of claiming intimate favors, having sex in the freezing cold outdoors, reactions of other people-significant others in particular-the problem was that I couldn't make myself invisible. If I went to observe, I would be chosen to participate. My host thought so and I didn't doubt that she was right. Guys seem to like how I look: I'm 161 cm (5' 3 1/2"), roughly 56 kg (123 lbs), and my late fiance always liked my C-cups with their large, lavender-mahogany nipples. I'm not a model, but the university where I work often puts pictures of me in their publications-sometimes I even get on the covers.
Harkje got into her coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, readying herself for the cold of the new winter. Today she was wearing a skirt instead of pants, but otherwise looked very much like she had the day before.
I had more questions for her. I wanted her to stay so I could talk to her. "You won't be gone long, will you?" I asked.
"Maybe it will be 1700 when I get back," she answered. "Or 1800. Sorry, but you must eat lunch alone."
"Okay, I'll see you later tonight," I said, not feeling as cheerful as I forced myself to sound.
"Bye-bye," said Harkje. I had a suspicion that she was forcing herself to sound cheerful too.
The school building was by itself near the edge of town. I figured no one would see me if I looked out the windows, as long as they weren't on the ground floor.
Keeping that in mind, I checked out the building more thoroughly. Soon, however, I was debating myself about the risk of entering the library. It was on the ground floor and it had a lot of large windows along the southeastern and southwestern walls. The allure of the library was that it had lots of local newspapers and magazines: more than the public library had had for sure. Reading those could really help my knowledge of this place.
But what if someone saw me and I got pulled into the First-of-Winter Festival? Harkje had taken pains to keep me hidden. She made light of it, but I knew I was a major inconvenience to her. If I got discovered while she was gone, it would feel like I'd made her go to all that trouble for nothing.
In the end, I let myself make a raid. Peeking carefully from corners first, I made as sure as I could that the coast was clear. Then I crept slowly along the northeastern wall, pulled a bunch of periodicals from the shelves, and quietly fled from the library again.
In our second floor "bedroom," I began reading, taking notes, and otherwise putting my training as an anthropological scholar to good use.
Normally, I can stay focused on languages and social structures. This time, my mind wandered to genetics. I'd like to have a talk with that doctor Harkje had mentioned. Dr. Tomasen? Tomassov? Yeah, Tomassov sounded right. If there really were a lot of natural intersex births in this village, she must have some ideas why.
I shook my head. It was a waste of time to think about that by myself. I got up from my chair and made a couple of small ham-and-swiss sandwiches for lunch. After lunch, I got deeper into the study of the town's society.
At 1555, I put aside the local news journal I'd been reading. I stood and rolled my neck, trying to work out the stiffness of my back muscles. I was drawn to the big window. It was darker in the school building than it was outside and I was on the second floor, a meter back-not pressed against the plexiglass. No one would be able to see me from outside the building. Part of my mind was eager, wanting to spot an intersexed person besides Harkje. If they were common here, I should be able to spot one. (After all, I had only the tall librarian's word that there were other intersexed villagers. While I didn't think she would lie for no reason, she might if she was embarrassed or worried about scaring me away.)
I started scanning the outdoors for sexual activity.
There was a couple-a clothed man giving a reverse-cowgirl ride to a naked woman-about 100 m away. Not far from them, but across the wide street, there were three people-no, four. In this group, a mostly-clothed woman was the center of attention for two naked women and a naked man. My curiosity spiked: one of the women was moving as though she was using a strap-on, but perhaps she wasn't. If only they weren't so far from the window! I couldn't make out enough detail to see if she was intersexed.
My brain said: this is a secondary school, dipshit; there's an astronomy class! I turned from the window and scurried toward the door, trying to remember where the astronomy room had been.
After 10 minutes of hasty searching, I found a portable telescope.
I returned to "our bedroom" and set up the tripod, then placed the telescope carefully in its mounts.
The group of four had gone, unfortunately. The chill of winter all but ensured that these festival trysts would be brief. I was a little disappointed, but now that I had better vision, I could expand my search.
Through the lens, I made a sweep of the town's open spaces. There were a naked man and a clothed woman in a missionary position, not what I was after. A bit to the right, a threesome: a clothed man taking it doggy-style from a naked man while a clothed woman used her hands to stroke the clothed man's penis and massage the naked man's balls. Just up the street, in front of a smallish tavern were a clot of half a dozen people: two men and two women were naked, two women were clothed.
The clothed women drew my attention. They were seated, bouncing the nude women on their laps. The nude men had their cocks in the clothed women's mouths, getting energetic blowjobs. The telescope showed me all the details.
It was true. Neither of the clothed women was using a toy; both of them had cocks of their own. What was more, neither of these clothed women was Harkje.
My question was answered.
As I watched, one of the men-a tall, light-brown-haired lad probably just out of his teens-closed his eyes and put one of his hands in the hair of his fellatrix. The intersexed woman-also light-brown-haired, but probably in her late 30s or early 40s-closed her eyes also, and hollowed her cheeks as she sucked hard. The 30-something brunette who was riding her leaned forward, using her tongue to stroke the exposed part of the guy's shaft. The intersexed woman's cheeks relaxed again. I kind of wished I could hear the sounds this group produced. The young man pulled his penis from the older woman's mouth. Her rich, plum lipstick was partially coated with shiny white slime. The smaller woman on her lap kissed her hungrily, throwing her arms around the dually-endowed woman beneath her. The bouncing went faster and faster and suddenly the naked woman relaxed, just sitting on the thighs of her temporary lover. For her part, the clothed woman kept thrusting her hips a few moments longer. Then she, too, was motionless. The naked woman stood up after one more long kiss. The clothed woman's cock slid from the smaller woman's pussy, making a mess on the rumpled top of her khaki pants. (She'd only pulled down her pants a bit, obviously not wanting to get too cold.)
My gaze immediately shifted to the other trio. The naked woman was probably in her mid-20s; a short, heavy-set girl with pale skin and lots of freckles. As she rode the woman under her, her plaited, flaming red hair whipped around her shoulders, emphasizing the exuberance of her movements. The woman with the penis had long, straight, honey blonde hair and she wore black-framed glasses. She was mostly clothed, but her coat and blouse were unbuttoned, showing her small, firm breasts with their wide pink nipples. Her conservative skirt was hiked up in front to give the redhead access to her cock. The man had dark brown hair, including a well-trimmed beard. He was stocky and his chest, arms, and legs were also covered in fine brown hair.
The redhead picked up her pace, and appeared to have an orgasm-her chin thrust upward and her mouth opened wide in what was probably a howl while her hands clenched the coat of the woman she was fucking. Then the red-haired woman got off the blonde's lap. Her partners seemed surprised by that, but only for a second. The three changed their postures. The redhead squatted in front of the blonde. The blonde woman bent over to accept the brown-haired man's cock from behind. The red-haired girl gulped the blonde's thick, wet tool, taking it pretty deeply into her mouth and trying to coax it deeper. The blonde steadied herself by putting her hands on the redhead's shoulders. The threesome got into a quick rhythm.
The redhead's face turned pink; it looked like the blonde was blowing her load and the redhead was trying to swallow all of it. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw a rivulet of semen squirt from the corner of her mouth while she struggled to keep from gagging. The man tensed and slammed his hips into the blonde's ass in short, rapid strokes. The redhead let the blonde's spent penis flop out of her mouth. Only a moment later, the man backed off. A thin stream of semen and pussy juice flowed from the blonde's cunt.
Were there other intersexed people to observe? I slowly and carefully pivoted the telescope. What I most wanted to see was one of these penis-owning women claiming another intersexed woman.
As I looked around, I saw that there were fewer people outdoors right now. They were probably getting ready for the evening meal. After that, the action would probably pick up; last night had been very busy, after all.
Using the telescope, I continued to scan the town for just a bit longer. It seemed like only couples were taking part in the festivities at the moment-wait! There was a group of three, and at least one of them was intersexed. What about the clothed woman with the fur-trimmed hood and short blonde hair? If she would just turn a bit-she might be a-
-I heard the "bedroom" door handle click. I spun on my heel, in time to see Harkje, bag of supplies in hand, open the door.
She stood silently, looking at me and at the telescope.
In my mind, I chewed myself out for not thinking about how this would seem.
"I'm glad you're back," I said quietly, just to break the uncomfortable pause.
Her cheeks were pinker than usual, but she gave me a thin smile. "I brought food to make into dinner," she said slowly.
I took the bag from her hand and set it on the counter. "You look tired," I told her. She wasn't big on makeup, but the little she had applied was smeared and splotched. She'd unzipped her coat; I could see spatters of drying fluids on her blouse and skirt; she'd clearly been kept busy today.
I got a towel. "No point in washing now," she said, seeing what I intended. "After dinner, I must go. Otherwise, people will wonder."
Grasping her hand, I said, "There is a point. Come along."
We went to the showers, and I helped her out of her clothes. It was as though I had never really seen how she looked. She had an acne scar or two, but her face was smooth, with high cheeks, possessing an uncomplicated androgynous beauty. She had long, supple arms and legs. Her lean torso carried at most an extra two or three kg; her lowest ribs were slightly visible under her full breasts. Her pubic hair was so light blonde it was almost white and she'd trimmed it to a cm or so in length. Her hips and shoulders were wide and powerful-looking. Her circumcised penis-while not being short or thin-looked somehow girlish. The veins weren't prominent, compared with other penises I'd seen, maybe that was why.
It was likely that Harkje got much more than her share of attention at the First-of-Winter Festival.
I got out of my clothes quickly. I set up the little shower stool and turned on the hot water. I didn't speak and neither did she. I gently shampooed and massaged and rinsed her. It only took a few minutes, but when I'd finished, she looked a lot less tired than she had. I handed her the towel and she smiled gratefully.
Using the supplies she'd brought, we made a meal of clam chowder, a baguette, fresh carrots and radishes, and sharp cheddar cheese, accompanied by a fairly strong local pilsner. We talked a little bit, mostly about the things I'd read concerning local customs and traditions earlier in the day. We spent more than an hour talking and eating, enjoying the companionship.
"Well, I had better get outside," Harkje said, sounding a bit apologetic.
"I'll see you soon!" I said to her, handing her a plaid wool scarf.
As soon as she'd gone, I found myself drawn to the telescope again. As I bent toward the eyepiece, I allowed myself to think about what I'd felt earlier.
I was attracted to Harkje. She hadn't wanted or needed sex in the shower, but I'd-had I wanted it? True, she was like no one I'd ever met, but it wasn't just because her body was different. Her circumstances and the way she dealt with things were unique too. Had I wanted sex with her? Maybe, but maybe what I'd really wanted was to touch her, and to somehow…give her something?
What would I give her? What was happening here?
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