Midsummer Fest Ch. 01

"Well, I can tell you it's a boy." Dr. Arikasdottir wore a smug expression. "A hundred years ago we would have had to wait for ultrasound pictures. Now I just read your body's reaction to the embryo. You're carrying a son. Got a name, yet?"

"I—yes, I do. His name will be Rolf Erik Keithasson. If it wasn't for those two I really would have killed myself and this baby would never have been born. They deserve to be his namesakes. And I'll ask them to be his godfathers, too. Oh, doctor, I'm so happy! Thank-you for telling me. I've got to run and tell the family."

*****

The news spread through Grandmother Ingmar's clan at digital speed. As Keitha predicted all three of her fiancé's shared in the congratulations and the beer did flow freely. Seabirds roasted on spits, xeno-cod crisped over coals and six varieties of oysters stretched out on a bed of ice three fathoms long. It was a major celebration.

"So," Helga asked, "are you gonna test to find out which of these stalwart stallions is the new father?"

"I am not! Look at the three of them. Each one is preening and getting slapped on the back in turn. Why should I spoil it for two of them? Besides, I have heard that it is possible in rare circumstances for more than one man's DNA to be involved so let's all just choose to believe that's what happened to me. I'll be having planned babies in the future and getting pregnant on Mid-Summer Fest like most of the other women but tonight—well, I feel it's divine intervention. Pastor Haaken refuses to commit himself one way or another but that's what I believe. This little boy was meant to be. Who his biological father is doesn't matter. What matters is that he will be born into our pod, into my clan and on this world."

Freya and Helga both raised their mugs solemnly and saluted her. "You said it, sister. Thatis all that matters."

Freya clambered up onto a table and banged her mug for quiet. She almost got it.

"Clan, family, everyone! A toast to Rolf and Erik, to Mikko, Thorvald and Konrad, to Dr. Arikasdottir and Pastor Haaken and most of all, to little Rolf Erik Keithasson. Cheers and blessings on them all!"

The crowd erupted in cheers that went on for a long time.

*****

Keitha hung head down Konrad's back wrapped in a fur. Her eyes twinkled and her grin spread from ear to ear. The wedding had been properly formal and solemn. All of her new pod members were dressed in their fanciest and the hymns and responses had been sung by the entire village. Once Pastor Haaken formally pronounce them all married to each other she'd been swept off her feet and carried shrieking to the beach. As Grandmother had promised, Keitha had her wedding dress whisked off and then she'd been tethered to the bow for a tour around the fjord. Though the day was hot, the water was cold, Keitha had screamed (mostly for effect) and she expected the teasing would probably go on for a week. Now everyone was riding the hoist to the grain tree groves. The anticipation was thick in the air.

Once in the groves, Keitha sat naked, wrapped up in the fur, Konrad and Mikko on either side of her. She looked around in fascinated curiosity at the Mid-Summer Fest grounds. In a cleared area in the center of the grove the participants and onlookers spread blankets leaving an open area in the center. Four paths led through the crowd to a wide variety of bowers scattered among the trees. Drummers set up on one side of the clearing and as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, people lit torches around the circle. A deep drum started its quiet throb.

"Mikko?"

"Mmm?"

"I've never been to one of these before. What happens, besides the obvious, of course?"

Mikko chuckled. "In Säkerhamn there are about thirty-five women who intend to get pregnant this Fest. Most of them are already married and who they will choose to father this baby is pretty much known. It's like Helga. Three years ago she chose me. This year she'll have Thorvald and after that it will be Konrad's turn. Most women have three or four husbands and they rotate among them. However, there are a few in their late teens who are still single. If they're engaged, they've kept it quiet. If they're not, then they can go with any guy they want. Of course, most of them go with single guys their own age but not always. That's what keeps the tension high, see? When the dancing starts, the singles go first and make their hottest moves. But they don't choose, yet. Then the women who know who they're going with get out and dance and take their men off to a bower. Only then do the young hotties choose and by now all the remaining men are on pins and needles wondering if they're going to get a chance. Only after the last breeder is gone does the general orgy begin."

"And since I'm already married and pregnant, the three of us wait until the orgy?"

"Probably, but if one of the singles picks either Konrad or me—or worse yet, both of us—it will be complicated. I don't expect that."

"I hope not! This is my wedding night, for Pete's sake. I'd better not get left alone."

"Oh you wouldn't bealone," Keitha heard her grandmother laughing softly behind her, "but don't worry about it. Besides, since itis your wedding night you get to dance the start of the orgy. I made sure of that."

"Me?"

"You, naked."

"But—oh, heck. Everyone's already seen me. Why not?"

The sun dropped toward the horizon sending a red glow through the grove. As Keitha warmed up again after her trip around the fjord she let the fur throw drop from her shoulders and kicked it away from her legs. By now a large portion of the village had gathered onto blankets and folding chairs. Anticipation mounted.

Once the sun was fully behind the mountains men went through the grove setting torches on fire to light up the dancing ground. Through the trees the flickering light showed a number of bowers, all decorated with bright flowers and shining leaves. Keitha looked up into the trees at the year's crop of pods ready to grind into flour and meal for the coming year. Midsummer Day marked one of the hinge points of the year, being the harvest of the grain trees and the seeding of the next generation. The thought made her wriggle and rub her thighs together. Then drumming started.

Identical, red-headed twins jumped to their feet and swayed into the center of the clearing. As the drummers beat out a slow, sensuous rhythm they slowly peeled off their clothing and tossed each piece into the cheering crowd. As more of their skin showed, they danced closer together, rubbing first shoulders, then hips, then breasts and finally pelvises together. Blowing kisses to the howling men, they ran back to their seats. It was a remarkable start to the evening. Though it was a hard act to follow, the other young singles did their best. Clothing disappeared into the crowd, unlikely to ever be returned. Though the men never left their seats at the ringside, whenever a dancer came within reach (which they did frequently) hands reached out to stroke and grope. Perhaps there were hopes that the skin on skin contact would influence the girl's decision. By the time the last unmarried was finished, Keitha had been pulled out of the fur robe and onto Konrad's lap. He kissed and nibbled her neck and ear lobes, driving her to distraction by palming, stroking and tweaking her breasts, belly, thighs and sex.

Once the 'maiden's' finished it was time for the mothers, the mature, experienced women to dance. There was nothing coy, this time, no slow seductive strip. They came into the clearing naked and at once pulled their husbands to their feet to dance with them. What had been anticipation became foreplay. The women pulled shirts and trousers off their eager men, biting their nipples and rubbing stiff phalluses with bellies, hands and buttocks. A few of the women had pulled two or, in one case, all three of their husbands up to dance. The mental image of a family gang bang brought heat to Keitha's loins and face. By now she was stretched across both Konrad and Thorvald's thighs and so aroused that her swollen labia glistened in the torch light.

At last, either holding hands or thrown over a broad shoulder, all the wives were out of the circle and into the bowers. Moans and cries carried through the night as the nubile girls returned to the circle. Their dancing passed through erotic and into pornographic as they posed and teased and began to choose their studs. To his amazement, one of the red heads writhed up to Uncle Gunnar with her tongue stuck out slightly and waved him to come with her. He was still trying to remember her name as he swept her off her feet and trotted into the night.

Now all the girls were gone, but the drums never lost a beat. All eyes turned to Keitha. "Well?" Grandmother asked. "Everyone's waiting, you know."

Right! Keitha curled her feet under her and started her dance as she rose to her feet. It occurred to her that the other girls and many of the women had been taking dancing classes while she buried herself in the computer archives and pored over bits artifacts from the 'people' who had evolved, developed a civilization and disappeared before the First Founders landed. All she had was the simple steps she used when dancing with her friends. They would do. Swinging hips and shimmying Keitha went to the center of the ring. When she reached the center she threw her arms up straight over her head and struck a pose. The drums went silent along with the crowd.

"I dance to fertility! I dance to the fertility of Nya Hem's seas, to the fertility of its soil, to the fertility of Nya Hem's women and most of all, to my own." Keitha ran her hands slowly, voluptuously down her body until they cradled her belly. "And I dance—to yours."

As if by arrangement the drummers began a slow beledi rhythm, dum dum tek, dum dum tek, dum tekatek dum, dum dum tek. Keitha danced. As she danced and swayed, bumped and ground, the crowd took up the rhythm clapping their hands and began to rock in their seats with her. Then other women stood, threw away their clothes and danced with her. Mikko and Konrad stood up, dropped their vests and trousers and danced to her sides. Shoulder to shoulder they danced with her until she turned toward Konrad and ground her pelvis against him. Mikko pressed against her butt, running his hands down her body while she rocked and swayed, eyes shut and mouth open.

Keitha felt Mikko's now-familiar phallus rubbing between her buttocks and Konrad's against her belly. Both men took pleasure in the heat of her skin and the writhing of her body. Soon, she knew their desire would be more than they could resist and she would be lifted up and carried off to pleasure them with the inside of her body. She smiled.

Other sounds rose beyond the drums. Women still seated squirmed out of their remaining garments and pulled their men on top of them. With their legs spread and knees lifted, they welcomed their men into them. Midsummerfest headed for its climax.

Konrad reached down and grasped her hips. With an easy motion he lifted her off the ground and hugged her, squealing happily, to his broad chest. With Mikko leading through the orgy, he carried her between the trees to a bower and set her back on her feet in front of it.

"Phew! Well, guys, are you taking turns or are you doing me together? And if so, how do you want me?"

Konrad ducked his head to enter, then lay on his back on the padded floor. Keitha's eyes grew wide and her mouth made an 'O' as Mikko reached inside the doorway and pulled out a tube of lubricant.

"Together," he said with a leer, "fore and aft."

Keitha swallowed. "Well," she replied with a rueful expression, "I suppose that's one place I can still be a virgin on my wedding night. Use the whole tube, Mikko; you know I've never done it that way before."

She straddled Konrad and dropped to her knees. Reaching between her thighs she grabbed his cock and began rubbing it up and down her slick pussy. Holding it still she impaled herself on him then lay flat on his chest and lifted her ass. Reaching back, she spread her cheeks.

"Okay, honey, let me have it."

As Konrad began to slowly thrust into her from below, Keitha felt Mikko begin to run his well-greased finger around her pucker. First a single finger entered and massaged her, then two that first massaged then spread apart, stretching her sphincter muscles. They withdrew and were replaced with a large dollop of gel and three fingers. She closed her eyes, concentrating on relaxation.

At last Mikko lay on top of her. She bore down as the blunt helmet of his phallus began its impudent pressure. Slowly he pushed until the head popped through and her sphincters closed behind the head. Eyes still closed she took deep breaths until the pain went away.Now I'm ready. She lifted her bottom and pushed back and Mikko responded strongly. With a couple of grunts he was fully inside her. She could feel both cocks rubbing against each other through the thin flesh that separated them.

"Now," Mikko growled, "now you are ours!"

Both men began to piston in and out of her. Keitha held on tight to Konrad's shoulders with her hands and his hips with her thighs. The pounding went on and on and as they used her she felt heat spreading out from them. Up from both her sex and her ass it spread until her shoulders tingled and her face felt tight.

"Uh—uh. ah—Oh, god!!" Her cries joined those from around her as men and women exclaimed their ecstasy into the night. At last, fully spent, the three of them collapsed in a stack.

"We love you, Keitha."

"I love you, too, guys."

Midsummerfest was over for another year.