I yawned and tried to ease my cramped legs. It was a long drive from Dublin to the tiny hamlet in the south west of Ireland. The term 'hamlet' was a bit of an overstatement really, because it was more a collection of small farms, with a community hall which doubled as a church on Sundays. We had made this annual pilgrimage for as long as I could remember, to the birthplace of myself, my Ma and Aunt Siobhan. Normally we planned the trip for the summer, but this year being a leap year, Ma had arranged it so we could be there for the Week long St. Brigid's Day Festival, starting on the first of February, which was celebrated as the first day of spring in that part of the world.
The festival was always fun for the children as well as the adults, being held at a different farm each time, and this year was the turn of Grandma and Granddad. This was the first time I had attended the first day, because in all previous leap years I and all the other bleary eyed kids had been herded before dawn into the community hall, under the friendly but no nonsense supervision of Father O'Brien.
"Relax, Dermot." Aunt Siobhan cut into my thoughts as she glanced across from behind the wheel at my flexing legs. "We'll soon be there. It's your own fault for growing so tall."
I grinned ruefully and studied her profile. Like my Ma Sinead, she was what I liked to think of as a classic Irish colleen, with her finely drawn features and shock of flaming locks. Siobhan had been ten when I was born, and neither she nor Ma had ever spoken of my Da. In fact my entire origins were a mystery to me. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had come into the world when Ma was barely a teenager, and any questions I wanted to ask were actively discouraged by the two sisters and their parents. Having me didn't seem to have had any adverse effect on Ma though, because she had never lost her love of the region or any its people. In fact there were times I thought she would sooner cut off her right arm than miss her annual chance to catch up with everyone she had known since she was a baby.
I was raised more or less equally by Ma and my grandparents, until Ma was accepted into Dublin University to study commerce. She financed her studies by applying what she learned, going around car boot sales and selling what she bought over the internet. By this time Siobhan was into her teens, and began taking a keen older sisterly interest in my upbringing. This continued until she too gained a university place around the same time as Ma was graduating. Soon after graduation Ma found a job with a commercial bank, and rented a small three bedroom flat not far from the university. Her sister moved in with her, and soon afterwards I joined them.
Looking back at the time I was growing up, I couldn't recall Ma or her sister ever having any men friends, or if they did they never brought them home. Even now that strikes me as strange, because they are both exceptionally striking women, so it was unlikely that they were short of offers. Of course it is more than possible that they had liaisons when they were at university, or maybe they were simply discreet.
The change from country to city was a virtually seamless transition for me, because I was finishing my primary education, and after the summer holidays I started secondary school in the city. The only disconcerting thing for me at first, was the way Aunt Siobhan had a habit of going from her room to the bathroom and back in her underwear, but I soon got used to it, and never gave it a second thought. That was until I was in my late teens and I found a photo of her taken at a party in her first year at university. There was nothing deliberately indecent about the picture except that she was slumped on a couch obviously drunk. The photographer had taken advantage of a too good to resist opportunity, because her short skirt had ridden up to reveal her panties, and the faint outline of her slit was clearly visible. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen a thousand times around the house, and more clearly, but the fact that now I could take it out and study it as closely and as often as I pleased sent my blood surging. That was the moment I stopped thinking of her as a sisterly figure, and for the first time of many I sat on my bed, photo in one hand and cock in the other, jerking frantically until a thick blob of cum splattered directly on to her crotch.
When she first started work my Ma had kept on with her rounds of car boot sales at weekends, taking me and Siobhan with her to look for bargains, but as her career took off she started leaving it to Siobhan and me. My Aunt dropped out of her arts course at university to concentrate on the business, cleaning and photographing her purchases for Ma to post online. I looked forward to our weekend outings, because when there were just the two of us it was easy for me to fantasise that we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
Ma could be very assertive and single minded, so it was no great surprise that by the time she was thirty, she had worked her way up to being deputy chief accountant, on a salary that made what she had considered a good income from internet sales - before her sister took over and expanded it - seem like petty cash. Since we no longer needed to be close to the university, Ma gave up the lease on the flat and made a down payment on a house that was more befitting of her status as a bank executive. Her only involvement in the internet business now was posting online, keeping a meticulous record of how much each item was bought and sold for, and ensuring sufficient was set aside for taxation purposes. I didn't see any real sense in worrying about taxes, after all what the taxman didn't know about he couldn't chase us for, but she was insistent, pointing out that her entire banking career depended on keeping above suspicion.
Her sister and I used the shed behind the house to clean and store the merchandise. By this time Siobhan had invested in a small van, so we could buy and transport items that wouldn't fit in the car. I was in my element working so closely with her, because it gave me frequent opportunities to admire the delightful roundness of her bottom, and sneak glances down her neckline at her sometimes braless breasts. Not that I could ever see much, but my imagination filled in the blanks.
There was one time though that I will never forget. It was after our first foraging trip since the Christmas and New Year break, and I was sitting on an upturned bucket sorting through a carton of stuff we had just bought, as she checked out what she thought could be an antique dressing table with a large mirror. She was wearing a pair of ragged jeans and a loose oversize tee shirt. I just happened to look up as she bent forward away from me to try to open one of the drawers, and her shirt sagged giving me two memorable views, one up under the tee shirt from where I was sitting, and one down the front reflected in the mirror. This was one of her braless days and her creamy pink tipped boobs wobbled gently with each movement of her torso. She stayed like that for several seconds, and when she straightened up I had the biggest hard on I could ever remember having. That night and every night for the next couple of weeks I lay in bed, stroking my dick as I relived that wonderful moment, and in my imagination I eased down her jeans and panties, thrusting deep into her slit as I reached up under her shirt to fondle those superb tits.
A couple of days before the end of January we piled into Ma's company supplied Toyota Corolla, and headed south west. We had left early to beat the traffic, and after a couple of stops to rest and switch drivers we arrived about an hour after lunch. Grandma and Granddad gave us the usual warm welcome, and despite our protestations that we had not long eaten, Grandma sat us down at the kitchen table with plates that seemed to be piled two feet high with sandwiches. After we ate our fill, we sat around catching up on what had happened since our last visit.
I made several attempts to raise the subject of the upcoming festival, but Grandma merely shook her head, finally declaring, "Have patience Dermot lad. We will see what we will see." Her tone made it clear that there was no point in further pursuing the matter, so reluctantly I let it drop. The rest of the day until bedtime was filled with idle chatter, and just simply getting to know each other again.
The Saturday morning dawned bright and cool, and before long people began arriving from around the district to set up for the start of the festival. Along with the men I was put to work clearing out the clutter from the main shed. As we worked I tried to pump some of the others about what was to happen, but all I could glean was that the festival would begin at dawn on Sunday, with a ceremony as old as time. With so many willing hands work went quickly, and when we were finally done I was surprised how much room there was. Before I could give it too much thought we broke for lunch. Seated around the large makeshift table, I began my usual game of trying to guess which of the men was my natural father, despite the fact that I had learned over the years that I was setting myself a futile task. There were at least four other men working alongside me, plus women and girls, who like myself and my grandparents and their daughters, all had varying shades of the red hair which was so prevalent in the area.
Once the meal was finished we set to work again in the now cleared shed, whilst the women busied themselves elsewhere. With two of the other younger guys, I was given the task of stacking peat and bags of charcoal beside the heavy iron braziers set out around the shed, about five feet in from the walls.
When Granddad declared himself satisfied with the setup, the makeshift table was brought inside, and arranged against the end wall farthest from the doors. The final task was left to him and one of the other older men. A narrow padded bench about hip high and measuring eighteen inches wide and six feet long, with a thicker pad at one end was set up in the middle of the floor, and meticulously adjusted, with Granddad constantly looking up at the top of the wall above the door. I tried to follow his gaze, but unable to see anything, I returned my attention to puzzling about the odd angle at which the bench was positioned. When both men were agreed on the positioning, two shorter benches were placed at the thickly padded end of the first, like an inverted 'Y' with the open ends towards the door.
This appeared to end the involvement of the men, and the womenfolk took over. Intricately woven garlands and wreaths of wheat and wildflowers were hung around the walls. Lastly, ornate pedestals holding small burnished copper bowls were stood at the extremities of the 'Y' shaped benches, and all preparations were pronounced complete. It was still only early evening, so everyone dispersed to their own homes to get what sleep they could in preparation for tomorrow's ceremony.
It was still dark when Grandad woke me. He was wearing a coarse brown ankle length hooded robe, fastened at the neck and waist by ears of wheat twisted together and threaded through loops. Laying a similar garment across my bed along with a pair of crudely crafted slippers, he told me. "This is all you need lad. Don't worry, you'll find it plenty warm enough." Eyeing them dubiously I climbed out of bed, and with a towel around my waist I headed for the bathroom to freshen up. There was no sign of the women, so after drying off I dropped the towel on the floor and headed back to my room. I felt a bit silly pulling on the robe, and the rough fabric itched like hell on my bare skin, but I figured that if others could put up with it so could I. Fidgeting with the unusual fastenings, I slipped my feet into the slippers and headed outside. I swear my balls shot up under my lungs when the freezing pre dawn air hit me, and pulling the hood over my ears I scurried to the shed before they dropped off.
To my relief the braziers in the shed were glowing red, and although it was still fairly cool it was at least ten degrees warmer than outside. The table against the wall had been repositioned at an angle across one corner and was loaded with fresh baked bread, succulent roasts of meat, and seasonal fruits and vegetables, but nobody seemed to be helping themselves, and I didn't want to be the first, even though I hadn't eaten breakfast. The other corner had been curtained off with blankets. The shed was well lit with burning torches hanging from the roof beams, and copper bowls atop the pedestals had been filled with a heavily scented oil with a lighted wick floating on the surface, giving off an almost head spinning aroma. It appeared that I was the last to arrive, for directly I entered all the hooded and robed men formed a circle around the precisely positioned benches. Someone started to beat a slow rhythm on a bodrhan – a sort of flat Celtic drum not unlike a tambourine, but played with a short double ended stick – and the women filed in from behind the curtain to take up positions between, and slightly in front of the men. In direct contrast to the heavily robed men, they each wore a diaphanous cloak the colour of ripe corn. These were fastened in similar fashion at the neck, waist and hips but with wildflowers, and did absolutely nothing to conceal their breasts and pubic areas. The women were of all ages, shapes and sizes, but one thing they all had in common was that their nipples were stiffened from the chill air. In addition to the hoods they all wore masks symbolising the moon and stars. I scanned each as she moved into place, in an effort to determine which of them was Ma or her sister, but it was impossible to tell, so I contented myself with trying to make out the outlines of their pussy lips behind their concealing bushes. Bringing up the rear was a stately figure in a cloak the colour of the spring sky, and with her face concealed by a shimmering silver veil.
The bodrhan went quiet until they had all taken up their positions, and then the drumming started again. There were three loud raps on the drum, and a heavily veiled figure dressed in a sheer cloak of grass green emerged, escorted by two slender figures clad similarly in a lighter shade of green. The veils of all three bore representations of the sun, and like the masks of the other women completely concealed their features.
The blue cloaked woman stepped forward and bowed. "Tuatha de Danaan, Goddess of Spring welcomes Danu, the Earth Mother and her handmaidens." She announced gravely. Despite her mask I recognised the voice of my Grandma, and I did a quick double take. For a woman in her fifties, she had surprisingly firm breasts with large brown nipples, and her bush still retained some of the flame of her youth. Matching her words to the rhythm of the drum, she spoke again in a reverent tone.
"The Lady shall circle, once, twice, and again,
Seeking to choose who shall be her swain."
The Earth Mother and her escort moved slowly around the circle of men, and as she paused in front of each he folded back his hood. When she had completed a full circuit, she laid a hand on the shoulder of one. One of her handmaidens took his hand, and led him to stand at the side of the bench arrangement. With her remaining handmaiden, Danu started at a different point in the circle, and began to move in the opposite direction, finally stopping to place her hand on the shoulder of another man, who was led to the other side of the bench. The third and last circuit she made on her own, and I was startled when she stopped in front of me and laid both hands on my shoulders, moving me to stand at the open end of the 'Y'.
It was then that I understood the careful positioning of the benches. A single ray of sunlight shone through a tiny hole in the roof near the top of the wall, casting a small circle of light onto the ground between my feet. The sound of the bodrhan reduced to a soft murmur, and Tuatha/Grandma's voice rang out again.
"Springtime has freed this land that was frozen,
Danu has wakened, her Ploughman is chosen."
The drumming resumed as the two handmaidens helped the representation of Danu onto the bench, positioning her parted legs along the corresponding extensions. As the circle of light inched slowly towards the apex, the handmaidens removed the wildflower fastenings and folded the cloak back to fall to the floor. I drew in a sharp breath as her flawless figure was revealed. Her perfect breasts stood firmly from her ribcage, each tipped with a dusky pink areola and a hard rosy nipple. The cushion under her buttocks elevated her hips, and her fiery bush was sprinkled with golden pollen.
"Here on this Altar Her Children prepared,
Danu's offerings are laid that they may be shared."
As I gazed in awe at her pouting slit, trying to will my cock not to rise, the handmaidens turned to the two chosen men who were staring as raptly as I was. With quick tugs, the wheat fastenings were removed, and their robes were pushed from their shoulders to fall to the floor. It was clear that neither of the men was as reticent as I was, because each was sporting a full erection. Taking a firm grip on the hard cocks, the maidens urged the men forward and laid the stiff shafts on Danu's breasts. Taking one in each hand she pressed the tips against her puckered nipples, as she stroked to the increasing rhythm of the bodrhan.
Raising her voice above the drumbeat, Grandma resumed her intonations.
"That Her bounty and gifts be permitted to flourish,
Her earth must be nurtured, watered and nourished."
As the drumming became more frantic, Danu's hands flew up and down the throbbing tools, until first one, and then the other they spilled their seed over her breasts and nipples.
A collective sigh went up from the watching throng, and as she relaxed her grip I looked down and saw the circle of light move up and over her raised pubic mound, causing the dusting of pollen to sparkle like diamonds, and the beads of moisture seeping between the pouting lips to shimmer like the surface of a brook.
Fingers plucked at the fastenings of my robe, and it fell in a pool around my feet. Under normal circumstances I would have felt self conscious about being naked in front of so many people, but the heady scent of the burning oil, and being caught up in the occasion dispelled any misgivings. Grandma allowed herself faint smile as she looked down at my swollen cock, then handed me a small pair of scissors, before taking up her chant again.
"Her land that was fallow, now shall be mowed,
Her furrow shall be ploughed and the seed shall be sowed."
I stepped closer and began to snip carefully at the resplendent bush, the clippings falling into a crudely fashioned earthen bowl held by a handmaiden. When the enchanting slit had been denuded, the second handmaiden took hold of my cock guiding it to the inviting entrance. Grandma moved behind me, and with a sudden push on my buttocks, she forced me forward until my length was buried in the exotic wetness as the handmaidens placed my hands on The Earth Mother's semen coated tits. Ordinarily the idea of touching someone else's cum would have repelled me, but the feel of her hard slippery nipples pressing into my palms was irresistible, and I eagerly massaged the sticky goo into the pliant flesh of her heaving mounds. As the patch of sunlight passed over the sun image on Danu's veil, the chant resumed.
"Now that The Earth Mother's pact has been sealed,
Her veil shall be lifted, full glory revealed."
Taking a pace forward, Grandma pulled away the veil, and I stared in shock into the smiling lust filled eyes of my mother. As I hesitated, she thrust her hips and smiled warmly. "Welcome My Son." I couldn't be sure if she was speaking as my Ma, or in her role as Danu The Earth Mother, but either way it was clear that she had deliberately chosen me to be her 'Ploughman'. So often I had fantasised about fucking her sister Siobhan, but the same thought about Ma had never even entered my head. Now that I was buried to the hilt in her warm willing cunt, I could think of nothing more exciting. Hardly able to credit that I was actually fucking my own mother, not only with her approval, but with the approval of all who were watching, I put as much power into my thrusts as I could muster.