Share the Joy

Through the wonders of their technology, the experiences of the bride and groom are actually beamed into the brains of the participants, so they 'participate' in the deflowering, yet they're still in their own minds experiencing the group hug.

 

Ip Terla is the first to be called. She leaves the table, crosses to the door, pale yellow gown streaming behind as she walks. She is a vision - the physical ideal of my childhood dreams. That we should be thrust together after such a long absence, and under these circumstances ...

The guests are seated about the room. Most sips drinks of a slightly mind-altering nature. The drink does not befuddle it merely 'opens' the mind a bit. Some are uncomfortable with this aspect of the wedding ceremony, but are required to participate as is our custom.

"Den Rena Op Jin."

I rise and follow the path Ip Terla had taken.

In the ante room attendants remove my clothes. I am led into an inner chamber where I am 'bathed' by a priest. It's strictly symbolic as he dabs me here and there with a cloth soaked with blessed water. Another door opens and I walk into the ceremonial chamber. Another attendant helps me with the white stockings.

Ip Terla is clearly naked beneath the gauzy wrap. Her eyes are closed. I can see her brown nipples and the dark triangle below. I am the only one treated to this vision. All the others will see only backsides. The shroud covers her from above her head down to her ankles. She is a vision of white, of purity. I step into the scanner, two buttons light up. I select Op Kinel. It is traditional for men to select the male experience and the women the female. Though that is not always the case. If the couple is the same sex, well, there isn't much of a choice, really. And there is, of course, the curiosity factor ...

I embrace Ip Terla.

The attendants draw the cloth over me.

In a moment Ip Terla and I are embraced by another - Ip Sellan, one of the bride's maids. It goes like that. First the Maid of Honor, then the Best Man, Ip Terla and I, then the rest of the wedding party, alternating sex, going from junior to senior, then the parents, and finally the honored guests.

I have been an honored guest at a wedding where there were about a hundred. I was Best Man at my sister's wedding. Defying our parents, she'd eloped, but we still have laws and the marriage would not be recognized unless witnessed and the Joy shared. And so she asked me to be Best Man and he found a cousin to be Maid. So it was just we two, the cousin and I, bound together, who shared the Joy.

We almost married, but cooler heads prevailed. She was a year under age and was required to wait the year. And that was a good thing because other than that one intense, shared experience, we had absolutely nothing in common. Even from a family standpoint, our houses were not aligned and so a union would bring nothing.

The parents and guests file in. The embrace moves around us, each taking a place slightly to the left of the person before. There are, I believe, twenty-seven in all. Somewhat larger than your average group, but as I have said, not the largest I've participated with. It probably takes a bit less than an hour, the attendants being very efficient.

We wait.

In another room the happy couple prepare.

Actually, Ip Terla and I made the preparations while they greeted the guests earlier. There wasn't much to do, really. The scanner was operating normally. At least we assumed that as the green indicator glowed. And we mixed the potions.

Everyone is assembled, wrapped in one, huge, group embrace. We wait.

(I am in the scanner, step out. Bedina follows. She joins me next to the bed. She is radiant in a sheer, white gown that reaches from her chin to the floor. We embrace. I respond to her warmth. No potion is necessary, but she takes the goblet and hands it to me. We drink. The liquid is golden in color and tastes like sweet wine with a hint of bitterness.)

This is symbolic of the marriage. We strive for the best, but there will be times ...

(We start tenderly enough. We kiss and stroke each other. Our ardor builds. With fumbling fingers I unbutton her gown, exposing her already well-exposed breasts. Soon her gown falls from her shoulders and she presses herself, all warm and soft, against me. I kneel, pull her gown to the floor, kiss her in that most delicate place, she takes a hissing breath and moans.)

Ip Terla presses against me, gasping, a small spasm passing through her body.

(Minutes pass, until Bedina can stand it no longer. She pulls me by the hair, pushes me back onto the bed, tugs my pants off, climbs on top of me, and slides her way slowly up my body. She straddles me, her mouth glued to mine in a teeth-grinding kiss. She is making little, soft whimpering sounds. Bedina breaks the kiss, moves back down across my body, planting little, feathery kisses as she goes. She grabs my penis, draws it into her mouth.)

It is my turn to gasp ... and I am not the only one.

(Bedina straddles my thigh, rubbing herself against me, sucking like a starving babe.)

The potion may be kicking in - or not.

(I roll her off of me, she opens her legs. I reach a hand and find her impossibly wet. I enter her. Again and again I thrust. Until finally I am fully inside of her.)

There is a collective murmur from the group. Bedina has, in fact, honored her vow of chastity. She has known no other man save her husband. Bedina, like all girls, had her hymen replaced a few days after her first period. The ceremony is called "Closing the Gate". There is the ceremonial and religious aspect - she was now considered a woman - there were practical reasons as well. First, hymens vary; some block the passage entirely, some virtually nonexistent. Here there was consistency. So verifying a girl's condition was a simple matter, something not open to conjecture. Second, it makes the girl's life easier. The Gate remains closed - period. Whether a boy honors his vow ... well, perhaps, perhaps not. But it is a matter of great importance among us and so it is generally considered so. That and boys and girls are required to seek spiritual counseling and the most common issue with the boys is celibacy. The girls seem to have much less trouble with that issue.

Lastly, there is the pleasure aspect. The Gate is human membrane. Once installed it is accepted by the body. It becomes as the hymen was, an integral part of a woman's sex. But it has no nerve endings. Deflowering is painless. The bride can experience all the pleasure of the event with no painful side effects.

Judging by Ip Terla's breathy moans, and the moans of others around me, I can attest to that last.

(I thrust into her. Her sex is snug and warm and wet. It grips me like no hand could. When I can bear it no longer I spend. I lay panting on top of her. Minutes pass. I have not softened appreciably and I move slowly within her. Bedina is making little, purring noises in my ear. I feel the flush, like the flush of strong drink. And it must be, in fact, the potion for almost immediately I am thrusting into my bride. She bucks her hips beneath me. My penis has become somewhat numb, hard, but not as sensitive, and I move within her for a very long time. It is her turn for release - once, twice, a third which we share.)

Our sweat is soaking the shroud. I can feel Ip Terla's hard nipples grinding into my chest, her gasping breath, hot and moist, on my cheek. I have the urge to kiss her, but I suppress it. I had kissed her - once. Only once. All those years ago.

(Again the brief interlude, again the rising fire, again the thrusting, the gasping, screaming, bucking. There is no easy release for me this time. It takes longer than I can bear, but I am powerless in the potion's embrace. Bedina screams, gasps, cries, whimpers, helpless to the fire coursing through her sex. She becomes desperate, frantic, begs me to stop. But there is no stopping. Not yet.)

It goes on this way for another hour. Ip Bedina finds release easily another dozen times, Op Kinel several times also. I lose count. There is only the wrenching need that finds no satisfaction. By the time the potion runs its course all are spent, spent beyond spent. If we were not all bound together I know we'd have fallen by now, but we are all one heaving thing, a solid mass in the center of the room.

The scene dims as the projector is turned off. I sense the attendants moving around us, feel the mass of the group lessen bit by bit as each is led to the baths, men to the left, women to the right. Ip Terla rests against me, trembling slightly.

Finally I am released from Ip Terla. As I am led from the room I look back. We share a glance. It speaks volumes.

After a long, hot bath the men leave, one by one or in pairs to be dried, anointed, and clothed. At last my turn comes and in a few minutes refreshed, but only marginally so, I make my way back into the banquet hall. There is a general torpor hanging in the air. Most guests hold drinks, stimulating drinks this time. Moments later Ip Terla joins me at the head table. She avoids my gaze. Downcast eyes that speak volumes.

Time passes. The noise level increases. Hors d'oeuvres are brought in. I select a few morsels, place them on a dish, hand it to Ip Terla. She accepts it. I am filled with hope. Soon, perhaps very soon, it will be simply Terla and we will share our Joy.

There is a fanfare. Everybody stands. The wide doors open and the happy couple enter the room. There is much cheering and applause. While the others are distracted, I reach for Ip Terla's hand. She allows me to take it. And when I glance at her, she returns my gaze.

 

25.02.12