“What?” Brian protested. “They actually watched them fuck?”
“Brian!” Mrs. H corrected. “You know I don’t like that word. But yes, since there was generally a dowry involved in marriages back then, the parents and wedding party were expected to witness the first marital penetration to ensure the contract had been fulfilled. As folklore would have it, some marriage contracts also required that the climax of both parties occurred during copulation.”
“Oh, that is so gross,” Brian interjected. “How did they know that they weren’t just faking it?”
“After they finished,” Mrs. H continued. “The female members of the wedding party would inspect the bride to ensure that semen was present inside her. The male members would inspect the groom’s penis to ensure that vaginal secretions were present. Back then, they didn’t understand the female orgasm and just assumed that a bride’s natural lubrication was an indication of orgasm.”
“Wow,” I interrupted. “Things seem like they were a little kinky back then.”
“You have to understand,” Mrs. H added. “Married couples didn’t really have any expectation of privacy back then. They probably lived in large makeshift tents and slept amongst dozens of other people, children included. Times were much simpler; nudity and sexual intercourse didn’t have the stigma that it does today. It was a natural part of life.”
“So did they both have to be virgins when they got married?” I asked curiously.
“Well,” Mrs. H explained. “We also found evidence; folklore that had been passed down amongst the elderly women of the colony that would suggest otherwise. It seems that they held single mothers in especially high esteem. Anytime a woman with a child was separated from her husband, be it by death or divorce, that woman would most likely be elevated to position as a teacher or mentor. If the woman bore a son, she would be responsible for mentoring the virgin males of the colony. If she bore a daughter, she would mentor the virgin females. On the eighteenth birthday of the virgin child, a ceremony was held, after which, the mentor would escort the virgin to Beilager Point where they received a week of explicit instruction in the art of love.”
“So, what you are saying,” Brian interrupted, “Is that every dude got laid on his eighteenth birthday.”
“Every boy and girl,” Mrs. H corrected. “Technically, the girls didn’t have intercourse with their mentor, but they did experience their first orgasms at the hands of their mentor. While vaginal penetration was strictly reserved for marriage, the folklore would certainly suggest that masturbation and oral sex were most definitely key components of the training. It was rumored that the sounds of passion emanating from Beilager Point during a week of female mentorship could be heard all the way down at the settlement, very often causing a spike in pregnancies amongst the fertile women.”
“So, what happened when this mentor woman’s son turned eighteen?” I asked. “Surely, she didn’t do her own son.”
“That is where things get really interesting,” Liz responded. “Evidently, every woman who had been selected to mentor male virgins ultimately bore a homosexual son. On their eighteenth birthday, the male homosexual virgin was elevated to a position of power with which they defended the innocence of all of the female virgins in the community. That young man was held in very high esteem amongst the members of the community.”
“Over the years,” Mrs. H continued. “Beilager Point has also been home to a nudist colony in the twenties and was a “free love” camp back in the sixties and seventies. Women, especially single mothers have always claimed a certain connection with nature up there, a sexual energy if you will. I know I feel remarkably different whenever I am up there.” Mrs. H paused and blushed. “I guess I haven’t been up there since my divorce. I am kind of looking forward to exploring my inner sanctum of sexual energy now that I am a single mother.”
“TMI mom,” Brian protested. “I am pretty sure we didn’t need to know that.”
We spent the next week planning and packing, but Mrs. H remained curiously invasive about about the actual activities she had planned during our stay. We ended up taking three tents, so each of us would have privacy. Mrs. H would have the larger tent so we could store most of the supplies in hers.
On the day of the trip, I ended up driving so Mrs. H could navigate. We drove deep into the wilderness and hiked another two hours to the beautiful lake. I immediately recognized Beilager Point as the memories from my past flooded back in. Though none of us had been there in years. It just seemed so familiar and inviting.
After we set up camp, we built a fire and fixed dinner. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” Mrs. H announced. “You boys are all grown up now and I want to share something very special with you.” Mrs. H put her hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes and said, “Your mother would be so proud of the man you have become.” She pulled me close and hugged me with her trembling body. We had hugged many times over the years, my chest pressed tightly to her breasts, but this seemed different. She nuzzled her cheek into my neck as she held me tight. An energy passed between us. This was no motherly hug.
Brian just took a step back. “Okay mom, we get it,” he said as he avoided her hug. “You are all emotional because we will be leaving home soon. It’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s not just that,” Mrs. H said as she looked back at me. What you boys don’t know is that I spent a lot of time up here with your mother before she died, just the two of us. We had an agreement that anything that happened at Beilager Point stayed at Beilager Point. We also made a pact that, when you boys became adults, we would bring the two of you up here and let you experience this special place the way it should be experienced, au natural.
“What the heck does that mean, au natural?” Brian asked in a disgusted tone.
“Well,” Mrs. H replied with a smile. “Free from restrictions of clothing. Free from the constraints of society. We really didn’t know what may happen. Perhaps it just meant that we could share our secret fascination with nudity with our adult boys. Depending on your level of experience with girls by the time you reached this age, possibly mentor each other’s son, demystify sex if you will, in a nonincestuous way of course. Pornography can be so damaging to a young man’s perceptions about women and sex. What better way to learn the truth than from an experienced mother, the best friend of your own mother.”
“Yeah,” Brian interjected. “I think they call that a MILF. I guess you forgot the fact that I am gay and his mom died. Sounds like your little plan didn’t exactly go as planned. I guess I am just supposed to sit here and watch as you mentor my best friend. That is so gross.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. H admitted. “But just maybe your sexual orientation is further proof of the natural power of this place. Either way, I need to fulfill a promise I made long ago to an incredibly special woman. You can think about it tonight. If you would like, you can leave in the morning and pick us up at the end of the week. No judgements, no hard feelings. Okay?”
“Sure mom,” Brian replied as he offered his mom a big hug. “I just can’t help but think that I would be a third wheel here.” Brian offered a lighthearted chuckle. “It’s not like the place is teaming with horny virgin girls in need of my protection.”
As we all sat around campfire, none of us spoke. I thought hard about what Mrs. H said about porn. It did seem to make girls feel more like objects than human beings with emotions and feelings. Then I looked at Mrs. H and thought how loving and caring she always seemed to be. She looked stunning with the flames dancing across her beautiful face. For the first time since we arrived, I noticed that angelic glow I had first seen all those years ago. I felt a warm sensation flood my body as my eyes scanned her loose fitting shorts that revealed her toned thighs and long legs. I noticed her full breasts with nipples proudly protruding from her braless, form fitting t-shirt. Then I noticed the way she was looking at me, her eyes piercing deep into my soul. Damn, she was a beautiful, sensuous woman. I really wanted to spend some time exploring her nudity, enjoying her mentorship.
It was getting late when Mrs. H excused herself and walked a few feet into the woods, close enough that Brian and I could hear her stream of pee splashing on the ground. “Jeez mom,” Brian yelled. “Do you have to piss so close to camp? That is disgusting.”
“Don’t want me to get eaten by a bear now, do you?” Mrs. H replied with a laugh. I could not help but picture this perfect specimen of a woman, shorts and panties pulled down just enough to keep them dry, squatting deeply, pee streaming out of her most private place. I was getting incredibly hard.
I excused myself, claiming that the sound made me have to pee as well, and walked far enough into the woods to have some privacy. I just needed a minute to regain my composure and get my dick in order. As I released my hard dick from its constraints, I let loose a stream of piss high into the air. That helped to relieve a little bit of the pressure that had been building. When I returned to camp, Mrs. H had already turned in for the night. Brian and I sat by the fire and talked for a while, reminiscing about the good old days. He finally looked over towards me and said in a low tone, “You do understand what she has planned tomorrow, right? Please don’t hurt her or break her heart.”
I took a deep breath, paused. “Does that upset you?” I finally asked.
“Not as long as you don’t expect me to call you dad,” Brian responded with a laugh. “Dude, if I weren’t gay, I would probably be attracted to her. She is, after all an exceptionally beautiful and loving woman and you know how horny she gets when she is here. I know she will make your first time incredibly special. I actually think I am kind of jealous.”
As I climbed into my sleeping bag that night, all I could think about was Mrs. H sleeping literally five feet from me. Was she naked in her sleeping bag? Was she horny like Brian suggested? Maybe even touching herself? Her face did seem to be glowing. Did she really plan to spend the rest of the week nude? Let me fuck her? My mind began to reel. I took a deep breath, started to panic.
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