Ritual of Manhood

(All characters are 18 years old or older.)

Rolf knelt in the brush. His powerful chest moved slowly as he controlled his breathing. He had to be still and quiet, his prey stood across the field unknowingly exposing itself. He listened to its snorts as it moved, occasionally grazing on roots or grass. It was a Stonetusk boar and it was huge, almost six feet long and four feet tall. Its dark red leathery skin was thick like armor, six jagged tusks in pairs along its snout were among the sharpest the wild lands.

The hunting party would eat well, if he could kill it. He'd been learning to hunt for years, now after surviving nineteen winters, he felt...no he knew, he was ready for this. He had chosen his prey well. While others his age chose beasts that were more dangerous and thus needed greater weapons like bows and spears to kill, Rolf only needed his knife. That alone would earn him respect in his tribe, or so he hoped. Bows and spears were the weapons of men, boys used knives, or were supposed to. He would work for this kill, he would earn his manhood, he would earn the right to use a spear, just like his father and grandfather.

His body was six feet tall, broad shouldered, and thick with muscle, like many other boys his age. He was in no danger of being seen, despite his size he could hide well. Still, he lowered himself further, feeling the end of his twelve inches of soft cock brush the grass. Like all boys of the tribe completing their rituals, Rolf was naked.

His usual dark hair was shorter than he liked, having not grown back yet from his first ritual, the walk through the burning pool. Its waters burned the hair from your body, the experience was painful but required of boys and girls before entering adulthood. He didn't care for how short it was so he shaved his head completely.

Rolf could still feel the sting of the memory. He had waded through the water, the river deep enough to almost submerge him. Ritual demanded he kept his eyes close and trust his sense of direction and instincts. He almost panicked but felt the ground rise with each step and sighed with relief. The water still burned him even as he walked out of it, his body naked and reddened from whatever was in the pool. He found his mother on the shore with buckets of good water.

She bathed him, removing all of the burning liquid from her son. That's when his father approached beaming with pride and presented him with two Alna to pleasure him. An Alna was a female well into marrying age who had proven herself barren, inflexible. When a woman became an Alna she devoted herself to learning every way to pleasure both man and a woman.

These two Rolf recognized as friends of his mother. Women his father had taken several times. They were incredible and Rolf lay on the bank enjoying the Alna's sexual skills until well into the night.

As with all boys and girls in the tribe, at the "age of choosing" Rolf moved from the large communal tent into his parents tent. It was a wide thing, lightly furnished with furs and simple tools, it may have seemed thin for a hide tent but that was so all outside could clearly hear the sex going on inside.

Rolf didn't mind, he was actually proud to have parents so sexually active. From the first night he moved in he fell asleep to the sounds of their loud and aggressive fucking. Soon after, Rolf's father began teaching him how to really be a man with lessons on sex and physical pleasure. Rolf's mother was eager to provide Alna for him to "practice" with or be with him in bed.

After that started he never spent a night alone. His parents often joked he'd impregnate a dozen Alna before he completed his trials of manhood. Rolf took it as both joke and a challenge, trying very hard every night to make the joke a reality. Months of vigorous effort seemed saw him fail that particular challenge.

Rolf's memories of his sexual education faded and he returned to the beast in front of him. Now it was the hunt, he would stalk and kill a beast to provide for his tribe. He had waited his turn like every other boy, volunteering to go last. No one ever wanted to go last, it was considered unlucky, Rolf hoped it would earn him respect within the tribe, knowing he'd be hunting something simple, a beast they hunted regularly.

The hunt would last a week, every day more boys tried to stalk and kill their chosen prey, most succeeded, this time every boy Rolf's age had. The goal was to be selected for the third and final trial. At the end of the week long ritual the hunt master would chose three boys to undertake the final ritual, choosing a wife and mating before the tribe. Normally the chosen were the boys who had the most impressive kills.

The boar wasn't an "impressive" or dangerous choice. It wasn't guaranteed to earn him that spot, others had claimed greater beasts of the forest and even one showing impressive skill with a bow taking down a Great Roc.

'Patience' his father cautioned. "It's about more than just your kill, show you're thinking of what's best for the tribe." Easy for him to say, when he was Rolf's age he downed a Cragcat almost twice his size, he still wore the beasts hide during ceremonies, having gifted the teeth to the woman he'd take as a wife and fuck that very night then every night after.

Its bones made for strong tools, its meat fed the hunting party for days, its claws were some of the most prized knives and spear tips gifted to the greatest hunters. Only the finest craftsmen were permitted to sharpen and shape them into the weapons they'd become, the claws of a Cragcat were very rare.

Rolf was thinking of the tribe with this prey. Its tusks were sharp and good as blades, its hide was thick and excellent for clothing or tents. Its meat would feed the hunting party for the entire walk home. It wasn't a dangerous choice but it would provide for the tribe and most importantly, make him look like a good provider to 'her'.

He was first along the brush. Behind him his father slowly stalked backward, like Rolf he was also naked, his greater eighteen inches of soft manhood almost dragging beneath him as he returned to his wife's side, only they were allowed to be this close to the hunter, their son undertaking his trial. Behind them knelt the hunt master and Rolf's sister, she was allowed no closer by tradition.

The rest of the group was made up of his tribe accompanying this hunt, first fathers and their sons each watching with criticizing eyes as others took their turn at the ritual hunt. Then mothers and their daughters, also watching with curiosity as each boy took his turn. The women were present not because they were here to hunt, mothers and their daughters were permitted for the purpose of watching the young men and judging which would make a desirable husband.

They were all dressed in the loincloths of their tribe, that was their only covering, their chests were bare as was their way. Two dozen in all. Each loin cloth was simple animal skin, only the hunt master was different. His covering was ceremonial, the skin of a huge cave wolf, the beasts hide and front paws barely able to wrap around his massive thick cock and huge balls. He was so well endowed the entire animal took up his front, leaving simple leather thongs to secure the skin to his genitals.

It was a sign of honor and respect. Chiefs and hunt masters advertised their skill with trophies and skins. When Rolf was a hunt master he hoped he had a great trophy to cover his manliness.

Much further back, in a clearing of the forest stood their camp. They often used the same camping ground each outing, making it more and more a permanent camp of the tribe, beasts would know it and stay away. The tribe would store some of their supplies there year round.

Only the accompanying members of the tribe stayed that far back. Three dozen Alna, an Elder Sage, and his wives. The Elder would oversee the camp while the Alna kept it. Only fathers with sons would be part of the hunt, mothers were permitted only if they had daughters of proper age. The Elder was all but required to bring his wives, very few females would be able to take a cock as large as his and elders always required a great deal of sex.

The tradition's of the hunt were important. History spoke of an Elders sexual grunts and roars pleasing the spirits of the hunting grounds and keeping away dangerous beasts when the hunters were away, protecting the camp. While Rolf and the rest were hunting, the elder and at least one his wives would be fucking, loudly. The elder himself was almost eighty years of age with a body that looked half that, rippling with muscles and sporting a mighty almost three foot cock that was rarely soft, he'd always have at least one of his three wives pleasuring him.

All boys went thought the rights and rituals of manhood, all who fathered children became hunters entrusted with the care of the tribe. The most successful men at hunting became master hunters. Those males who were powerful and potent enough to impregnate at least three Alna were elevated to be tribal chiefs, taking position on a chief council headed by the High Chief.

If they could father children with six Alna or more they were counted as Sage's the most honored leaders and teachers of the tribe. Once you reached seventy years of age you were considered an Elder regardless of how many wives you took. At camp a full dozen Alna would be exclusively for the Elder Sage's pleasure. Rolf hoped he'd be that honored when he was that old.

Not only Elders passed on the tribes knowledge. When the sons were old enough to hold a knife they'd learn to hunt. When they were of age and had completed their first trial it was the responsibility of their fathers to teach them the ways of manhood, building a strong home, building a family, keeping them safe, fighting, sex, and fathering children.

Every night Rolf would lay with an Alna, his father was a harsh teacher, sometimes criticizing Rolf's technique, where he'd grab the woman, how soft or rough he'd be, other times Rolf would watch as his father fucked the Alna himself or his mother, talking through every thrust. His mother would try to be quiet during the teaching, she failed every time, his father bragged about that endlessly. Rolf was grateful for the lessons.

His attention refocused on the beast, it raised its head and sniffed, had he waited too long? Did it smell him? Did it smell one of the hunting party? Rolf didn't realize he was holding his breath until the boar went back to eating grass and he slowly released it. He would have to act soon. When he did he would have to be fast, very fast, and accurate.

His body tensed, his hand hurt as he gripped his knife so tightly. He slowly filled his lungs with air and slipped from his hiding place. He didn't move to quickly at first, that would make to much noise. Many sloppy hunters would burst from their hiding places, making an unnecessary commotion that caused their prey to startle and flee that extra step or two could be the difference between success or failure. He waited for a gust of wind, one came, rustling the leaves in the trees first. Finally the breeze kissed the bushes, Rolf ran.

The best hunters would be silent as they took off, slipping from hiding and wouldn't be noticed until they were almost on their prey, ending the hunt before the "chase" even started. Rolf's father taught him that, now he was putting the lesson to good use. He had made three full strides before the boar grunted and looked up. In that moment, the boar would make a decision. It would run or it would attack.

Rolf planned on the beast attacking. It was a full grown male with six excellent knife sharp tusks. Rolf locked eyes with the animal, it grunted and squealed lowering its head. The huge tusked boar charged forward, kicking up dirt and grass as its hooves dug into the ground. Rolf threw himself into a full run. His entire naked body throbbed with effort, his muscles coiling as he waited for the right moment, wanting to release the full speed and power his body was capable of at the right moment.

Halfway to the beast his limbs burned with the exertion. Rolf's hand gripped the handle of his knife so tight he was sure it was digging into his flesh. It was close and getting closer. He barely had time to think, this was it, he had to move just right, not enough and he'd be gored by the six razor sharp tusks, his tribe leaving him to die where he fell, his parents leaving him as a failure and hoping for another more successful son.

Too far and he'd miss the beast with his blade completely, no hunter got another perfect chance on a kill after he ruined his first. His lungs burned as they rapidly emptied and filled again and again. Rolf was trying to control his breathing as he ran but he was young and eager.

Two strides away the beast ducked low, aiming to gore him as it swung its head upward. Everything in Rolf screamed "NOW", like an explosion he pushed off the ground with all his strength. Time seemed to slow down. His entire body weight lifted into the air. He didn't jump forward, trusting his momentum to carry him into the giant boar. He brought his hands together, right hand gripping the knife handle, left over the right. In that moment he wasn't a boy anymore, he was a man, angry, aggressive, predatory, striking to kill his prey.

His eyes focused on where he was aiming the knife, to him it all happened in slow motion. He watched his sharpened stone blade bite into the beasts flesh. He saw the muscle beneath the skin spasm as it reacted. He heard the boars squeal of shock and grunt as it lifted its head, hoping to catch him with its tusks, it didn't even feel the pain of his knife yet.

His knife bit deep, his body weight driving the blade into the beasts thick neck just behind its head. Just where he aimed. In the blink of an eye everything sped back up. His gripping hands slammed against the board hide. His body jerked with the sudden change of momentum as the larger heavier animal drove into him unable to stop its charge. Knife firmly implanted in the boar, Rolf was thrown into his side, the blow knocked all the air from his lungs.

The animal couldn't stop moving, it lost that control when Rolf's blade severed its spine. Its legs faltered. Man and beast slammed into the ground and tumbled. The cloud of dust kicked up by the impact obscured everything. From the forest, the watching tribe murmured, did he kill it? Was he alive? It looked like a good strike, was it enough?

Panting, sweaty with a layer of kicked up dirt covering his body, Rolf strode through the dirt cloud. Knife held in one bloody hand, the boars lifeblood decorating his torso in a spray pattern. The young man held his blade in the air and shouted. His roar called to his family to see what he'd done. It called to his ancestors to witness their legacy. It called to the spirits to be pleased with this kill. It warned every other beast a predator had his prey and would feast tonight.

The entire hunting party answered his shout of victory with a roar of their own. There voices a chorus of savage celebration. Together his family approached. His father still naked was grinning and laughing, with pride. His mother, her womanly curves equal to his fathers manly size. Her breasts as large as watermelons, each firm on her chest, her hips as wide as her shoulders. His sister smaller than their mother yet no less curvaceous with breasts as big as her head.

Unlike Rolf's father, the women were dressed in their loincloths like the rest of their people, their huge firm breasts, rounded womanly perfection, on full display. Rolf had to admit his mother and sister were very attractive women, he had witnessed his mothers storied sexual skill and he knew his mother would have taught his sister everything she knew just as Rolf's father taught him the ways of manhood.

His father was a lucky man and whoever married his sister would be also. While Rolf hoped he had earned his manhood, he also hoped his sister would find a husband. Grinning with pride Rolf's father checked the beast for life, satisfied it was dead he laughed and pulled Rolf into an embrace. His mother and sister followed.

"Well done young one." Stuld, the hunt master said as he walked up. His voice was deep, though he was still a ways off with the rest of the party, it carried the distance seemingly effortlessly. Grinning Rolf approached the big man, knife out, bloodied blade plain to see, presenting himself and officially entering the judging for manhood.

"Hunt master, please accept this kill for our tribe." He' spoke clearly, having practiced the ritual words for weeks. "May it serve as my example of manhood so I may take my place among our people." Rolf finished, pulling the flat of his blade against him and carefully smearing the beasts blood on his chest. With a grunt, big Stuld accepted the offering.

"A fine kill." He declared and turned to the rest gathered behind him. "Tonight we feast, young Rolf was the final of our young to hunt, tonight we will begin selecting who will become men!" His voice carried across the group eliciting chatter of approval and anticipation, no one officially knew who'd be selected but everyone liked to guess which boys would be.

It took some time but the hunting party finally cut a sturdy enough branch from an Ironbark tree, the hunter that climbed the trunk almost stumbling as he landed from the near two hundred foot drop. With the boar properly secured they carried it, taking a dozen men and boys to heft its size, as the group made its way back to camp.

Father and son had the place of honor of leading the party back to camp. Rolf walked alongside his father, his mother and sister just behind. They spoke happily, hoping Rolf would be picked for manhood. Behind them the entire hunting party followed with the hunt master at its center, his eyes always on the lookout for danger.

Arrayed around him were the women, mothers and daughters all chatting quietly, exchanging excited observations about the boys hoping to become men. Around them are the fathers and sons, a protective ring of muscle and weapons, their eyes outward trusting Rolf and his family to lead them back safely.

The sounds of energetic sex filled their ears and Rolf knew they were back. The Alna worked slowly and steadily maintaining the camp, tents were scattered in a ring around an open field, wide benches carved from large heavy tree trunks surrounded it. At the center of the field knelt the Elder and on all fours, his wife.

He was massive, standing he was over seven feet tall with legs as thick as tree trunks, his entire body was wrapped in bulky muscle, his arms were thick, his biceps alone were the size of his head. His chest was huge and hard, his stomach more akin to a solid boulder than the hard defined abs of many tribesmen. His colossal three foot cock was sawing in and out his wife as they both grunted and screamed their pleasure.

The wife of the Elder was a woman of unequaled sexuality. Her curves were almost impossible. Her breasts were several times the size of Rolf's mother and her hips twice the width of her shoulders, from that came an ass that none could even hope to compare to except the wives of other Elders. Her huge husband had her long hair wrapped around one big hand as he thrust hard. His balls, each twice the size of his head, were weapons, crashing into his screaming wife's thighs.

They knelt in a pool of mixed cum, the fluids collecting around their bodies like a lake. Elder Hom was snarling through his latest orgasm, the ejections having no place to go inside his wife splattered over his lower body, painting him from the waist down in a solid sheet of thick pearlescent seed.

The men of the tribe were known for their sexual stamina, often delaying hunts and chores while they sated their lust on wives and Alna. Hunters, Chiefs, and Elders all had to learn to control themselves, eventually able to halt their energetic coupling and soften their cocks at will.