Virgintide

I learned of the occurrence from Herek the fisher boy. He brought the news straight to me. I am Jamjarew, the physician, of Baisya the beach village near the mouth where Vivish empties into the vast ocean Waabkloub.

"There are unconscious girls all along the beaches, washed up by the tide", he blurted at me.

"They are... um... unclothed."

"Gods!" That was all I could think of to say. "Who are they? Do you recognise them? Or are they strangers, slaves from a shipwreck perhaps?"

Then I came up with:"We must arrange volunteers to gather them into the hospice where they can be clothed and supplied with water until they revive."

"The fishermen... and others... are going out and... um... coupling with them. They are attractive young women. But of course it is forbidden." Herek shuffled with embarrassment.

I was hardly surprised at this. I had already considered doing the same myself. But it WAS forbidden, without consent. So perhaps I could get back to finding the volunteers and getting them to the hospice. Where at least the higher caste ones among them would be safe from predation.

Herek was ruffling his q'nik nervously. (A q'nik is a low-status nether garment, a rough loincloth or short trouser made from the fur of a predator.) This drew my attention to the wet patches, stains and matting in the fur of the garment. Herek had been partaking of the forbidden fruit it seems.

"Herek, you can get in serious trouble coupling with high-caste forbidden. Point me towards the nearest of them, then get a change of clothing and wash that q'nik. Properly. And no-one can see you in that state. Even your mother may report you!" Herek was the latest man in Baisya to have come of age, and all the men felt a little fatherly -- or at least, avuncular -- towards him.

"Yes mumtab", he replied sheepishly, using the informal "title" with which one addresses an elder of a higher caste. "B-b-but I couldn't help it. Men all around me, near and far, were grunting with their... finishing. And... she was my first ever! How could such ecstasy be forbidden?"

Such eloquence! Would be no help at all to him if he were before the council.

So he gave me the best directions he could, then ran off in the other direction. I took a stretcher which I could drag a patient on, and headed off in the direction indicated. I figured I would find my volunteers among the men who I knew were already out there. The fishermen. And the... others.

I spotted the first woman before I had even reached the ocean shore. The powerful tide had washed her down Vivish, our life-giving freshwater stream, perhaps a hundred waak. (A waak is the length of a stride while sprinting.)

She was an enchanting beauty of about eighteen years, with an adorable little nest of auburn hair. She lay on her back, and her right leg lay bent at a 45-degree angle to the other one. I didn't recognise her, but from her grooming I guessed she must be the same caste as me. In other words, jailbait.

Moments must have passed while I fought the temptation. I wore a raqaan, a belted tunic, which meant my erection had pretty much nowhere to hide. I need only lift my skirt and mount her, and the deed could be done -- before anyone was the wiser.

Then my wiser head prevailed. Not worth the risk. I transferred her onto my stretcher, my hands of course lingering a bit on her breasts, her bum, her inner thighs, my fingers longingly, if briefly, enjoying the feel of her tight young labia.

As I was turning for the hospice, I heard what might have been gruff masculine laughter coming from the direction of the ocean. Straining my eyes against the rising mist, I made out a bundle lying on the sand, that resolved into two people. A woman on her back, naked. And a man, or at least the bottom and legs of one. Coupling with her energetically.

He could be my first volunteer. But I should let him finish. My penis gained another knuckle in length from watching, it was now longer than I could ever remember it having been. Actually I should interrupt him. But that was never going to happen.

I dropped the stretcher and snuck towards the rutting couple. He couldn't last much longer -- could he? - and I wanted as good a view as possible before the action was over.

My left hand was starting to stroke my oversize erection. It seemed a shame to waste this monster, but could I find another use for it that I was willing to risk?

I should check this woman's caste. Maybe it was lower. And maybe this fine chap would be willing to share, when he'd... finished.

His guffaws had become grunts by now, he was very close, and my view was still... disappointing. I started running towards them. His thrusts took on that telltale slow depth, and his grunts reached a crescendo. He was cumming inside her.

I slowed to a dignified walk. I stopped stroking my penis. He stayed on top of and inside her for a time after finishing. He had just rolled off her when I arrived. He looked familiar from the caste lodge meetings. "Wharra you... doingere?" he said, rather menacingly I thought. And drunkenly.

"Calm yourself, brother! I am Jamjarew the physician. These women must be taken to the hospice to... recover themselves. I threaten you not."

The bearded rogue grinned to hear this. He was in too good a mood to spoil with conflict.

So now I could... appraise... the young lady. She also was impeccably groomed -- although he had sweated on her a bit -- and had the same auburn nest of short hair. Not low-caste. Bugger it!

"I'm looking for volunteers to convey these women to the hospice. Can I count on your aid? I can't promise you any further high-risk coupling, but anything you want to do with hands, fingers and mouth, you'll probably get away with."

"Tager...", he replied, "inamumment". Which seemed promising, if my understanding of the drunk dialect is to be trusted.

But then he passed out. Oh well. I'm sure he'll do it later.