Land Rites

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rufriter
rufriter
714 Followers

After I pulled out, Siobhan turned to face me. "That's one we can cross off our wish list," she grinned as she casually wiped her dripping cunt with the tail of her shirt before pulling up her pants. When she saw I was watching, she shrugged. "It's easier to explain a wet patch on my shirt than a wet patch on my crotch"

I fixed my own clothing and picked up the empty carton, and we returned to the shed, where we were greeted by the delicious aroma of cooking. Steel mesh had been placed on top of some of the braziers to grill steaks, chops, and sausages for lunch, and people were lined up with chunks of freshly baked bread. When everyone had been fed the youngest children were sent out to hunt for the hidden sweets, followed in turn by the other age groups.

The rest of the afternoon was taken up organising and supervising activities for the youngsters. After the evening meal, a bodrhan, a flute and a fiddle were produced, and between draughts of strong Irish porter, everyone danced long into the night. Not being much of a drinker, I nursed the one tankard of the strong dark beer all evening, which was just as well, because after I was in bed Ma came in as horny as the night before, but fortunately for me not as energetic.

The next day was pretty much like the day before, as were the remaining days of the spring celebrations. Daylight hours were occupied with games, races, competitions and other diversions for the children, and the evenings were devoted to singing, dancing and drinking. I noticed that some of the younger girls had started seeking the company of boys in a similar age bracket, and although there was never any indication of anything even remotely improper, I couldn't help wondering for the umpteenth time about my own origins. Throughout the festival I was intrigued by the two faces of my Ma. Whilst Siobhan and I seized whatever opportunities presented themselves to slip away for a fuck, Ma took her appointed duties seriously. During the day and evening she was the dignified Earth Mother, but once everyone had retired for the night she became my very earthy mother.

All too soon it was Sunday again, and shortly before lunch we all assembled in the shed for the last time. There were no exotic costumes this time, but symbolic of their roles as Goddess of Spring, and Danu The Earth Mother respectively, Grandma wore a plain blue dress, whilst Ma was dressed in a pastel green skirt and blouse.

Grandma led us all out of the shed and into the field, and approached me and Ma, bearing the earthen bowl which had been used to catch Danu's pollen coated pubic hairs when I had clipped them on the first morning. Holding the bowl aloft for a few seconds, she handed it to Ma.

"This feast that was opened, now shall be closed
By Danu, Earth Mother, and the Ploughman She chose.
That which did grow at the place of all birth,
Now shall be scattered, returned to the Earth."

As the last words were spoken, Ma tipped the bowl, and its contents glittered in the sunlight as the breeze carried them away. Dropping the bowl, she stepped on it, grinding it to dust in the dirt.

Turning to face the throng, Grandma addressed them in a clear loud voice. "Friends, thank you all for gracing our farm with your presence, and making the Leap Year Spring Festival a successful and enjoyable occasion. The Duffys invite you all to gather again at their farm on the first day of Spring, four years from now for the next Festival."

The entire final ceremony and invitation had taken no longer than twenty minutes, and then we all filed back into the shed for a lunch grilled over the braziers. When everyone had eaten, Father O'Brien conducted another short mass, after which the visitors began packing up to return to their homes.

Ma, Siobhan and myself stayed chatting with Grandma and Granddad until the evening meal, and then Ma said we should leave because she was expected back at work next morning. Grandma held me back as Ma and Siobhan were getting into the car, and told me how impressed she had been with the Ploughman, and invited me to visit again when the weather warmed up. When I reached the car, Siobhan was behind the wheel with Ma beside her, so I climbed into the rear seat. Heading down the long dirt driveway to the road, what Grandma had said began to sink in. I wouldn't have thought anything of it except that she had stressed the word 'Ploughman', and in the same sentence invited me to visit again. The memory of her lying stretched out with her big brown nipples standing rigid, and her pussy aimed in my direction, made the beast between my legs twitch. Her parting remarks had more than likely been perfectly innocent, but that didn't mean I couldn't speculate.

At the end of the driveway, Ma got out to open the gate onto the road, and when we passed through she closed it and climbed in beside me. "You know Dermot," she said quietly, "this past week you have given your Aunt and me some wonderful memories." Looking into my eyes, she laid a hand on my knee. "They don't have to be just memories if you don't want them to be. "I mean it doesn't have to end with the festival." Her hand moved further up my thigh, and I slumped back against the door with a grin.

Taking this as agreement she quickly leaned forward to unfasten my jeans, and as I watched my hard cock disappear into my Ma's mouth, I knew that my future was going to be even better than I could have hoped.

rufriter
rufriter
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago

Awesome story!! Very well written and very hot! I'd love to see a followup chapter of his visit to his grandmother and what follows there.

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
"To the rising chant of "Plough, Ploughman plough," I drove in and out, desperately seeking fulfillment for us both. As she began to tremble in approaching orgasm, Ma/Danu /Earth Mother added her voice in a barely audible whisper. "Plough Ploughman, ploug

Seconds later my cock erupted, spewing a thick stream of cum deep inside Ma's cunt." This is a brilliant and highly original account of hot motherfucking by a gifted writer. It harks back to an ancient Celtic tradition, whereby a big strong boy like Dermot is the designated Ploughman, whose duty it is to plough his own mother's cunt with his big hard cock and fuck a baby up where he was once a baby, as the whole village looks on and roars its encouragement and approval. Thus the natural, inborn urge of a boy like Dermot to slide his young cock up his own mother's mommy-hole--the same wondrous hairy hole between his mother's legs that he came out of--is sanctified and unleashed. Everyone, Dermot, his Ma, and all the onlookers, is transformed by the beauty of the act, as the boy introduces his fat young prick to the cunt of all his dreams, where his big prick is enveloped by layers of warm wet loving mommy-twat. It's the best feeling a boy can ever have, and, as his Ma urges him to plough her harder and harder, Dermot goes wild and gives his mother the best fuck of her life. The crowd of onlookers is struck with awe as Dermot unloads his young balls and shoots his mom a huge twatful of his creamy semen, his potent seed to his Ma's fertile earth. The Ploughman and his Plough have done their job well.

digdaddyrichdigdaddyrichover 11 years ago
A fantastic story

Very erotic and sexual along with being well written and edited.

A very smooth flowing and nicely paced story that kept the reading very interesting.

Thanks for the very good tale.

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
ALBION redux.....

I've always loved Celtic culture since reading "The Song of Albion" Trilogy and "The Pendragon Cycle" by Stephen Lawhead several years ago.

And now its all gone sexy. Nice.

Very nice but I must say I'm feeling rather uncomfortable with its themes and will only read it once. Probably because it goes against my faith.

In any case its erotic side rocked and I chose to focus on that instead.

Keep up good work.

-Alain

dinkymacdinkymacover 11 years ago
Nice!!

Thanks for sharing....

searchingforperfectionsearchingforperfectionover 11 years ago
Well done

This Yank had no trouble relating to the background of the story.

Myhands316Myhands316over 11 years ago
Grand tale of tail.

You must remember most Americans have no clue when it comes to the old Pagan rites of the seasons. They have become too self absorbed to learn anything that doesn't align with their narrow view of the world.

I have long heard of these rites. Diffferent places do things differently. Some do honor on the summer and winter soltace, while others revier the spring and fall equinox. If they ever learned how much of what they know as Christianity comes from these pagan rites, I think they would not know what to do with themselves.

Good story, and a grand telling of it.

Myhands316

dloold87dloold87over 11 years ago
ignore

Just ignore those idiots who dont know what they are talking about.

rufriterrufriterover 11 years agoAuthor
Re Feedback

To the reader who sent me anonymous feedback stating that there are 29 days in February in a leap year, and therefore the first day of Spring should be 1st of March.

The number of days is irrelevant.

This story was set in rural Ireland, where it has long been custom and tradition to observe 1st of February as the first day of Spring, regardless of what the rest of the world may say.

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