Romy and I found ourselves physically and emotionally exhausted with all the sex action in the town square, and so we gratefully accepted the mayor's invitation to rest in a private room in the town hall, grateful also for his official invitation after the rest period to take supper with him and his staff. He told us someone would let us know supper was being served with a discreet knock on our door.
When the knock came on our door, we descended the stairs to the grand dining hall. The mayor, other municipal officials, and the police force were all present at the table, and the conversation was lively.
They chatted cheerfully with us, asking who we were and where we were from and what we did for a living and how we met each other. We asked them questions about how the village of Johnson was founded, how it managed to maintain its isolation from the rest of the state, and how it developed such a unique society and set of sexual practices so remarkably different from those of the outside world. In our exchange of views, I came to see sex differently and accept that shared sexual activity could be therapeutic as well as enjoyable.
The conversation continued until dessert was over, and we were lingering over coffee. Then the mayor got up and stood behind Romy's chair, and as he spoke to us, he massaged her neck and then moved his roving hands down to her breasts.
"Now I mentioned to you earlier that we have the finale to the Summer Fuck Festival after supper. We'll take a short break back in our rooms now to freshen up and meet you in fifteen minutes out front on the town hall steps. Then we'll walk across the town square to the community center, that low cinder-block building with the flag pole in front. I'm the master of ceremonies at the festival, so they won't start without me, but we don't want to be late. They will be waiting to see you both naked again. After all," he said nudging me conspiratorially, "you brought us a new vagina on the day of the festival, and we want her to be our festival queen."
Squeezing Romy's full breasts with both hands, he told her, "I'm sure you and your partner will enjoy the festival finale as our chosen queen. I know we will all enjoy you." He gave a devilish chuckle then that told me that the festival queen was more likely to be a festival victim in some way, a notion that proved to be altogether true.
The short break after supper passed in nervous silence. Back in our room, Romy and I stared at each other or out the window, lost in thought. Based on this afternoon's overwhelming encounters with the sexual practices we had seen and experienced in the Hidden Valley, we anticipated either the best or the worst sexual encounters of our lives, and possibly both at once.
Soon another knock came at our door, and the mayor flanked by police marched us down the town hall steps and across the green to the community centre doors. They wanted us both to attend the festival and were taking no chances that we would get cold feet and try to leave the village. As we walked, Romy nudged me and nodded to the flag flying high in the summer breeze on the flag pole in front of the community center. It featured an anonymous female with wide spread thighs entertaining a monster cock and balls deep in her prominent cunt.
The double doors of the community center were brightly lit and surmounted with a banner announcing the Summer Fuck Festival. It occurred to me that there could also be Fall, Winter, and Spring Fuck Festivals here too. Needless to say, the lettering on the banner was flanked with graphic images of giant erect penises penetrating moist cunts.
We stepped into the lobby of the community center and found concession booths for food, drink, and souvenirs of Johnson. As you might imagine, the mugs and T-shirts on sale all featured erect penises invading willing vaginas.
On the walls were signs pointing to washrooms and change rooms for men and for women, as well as signs pointing to the doors leading out into the main hall. Windows in the wall beside these doors revealed a large meeting hall, its roof supported with sturdy wooden beams and brightly lit.
These we opened and went into the hall for a preliminary look. I could see people already busy with final preparations for the evening's activities. Some were seated on bleachers attached to the wall, taking a break from their labors. Others were setting up a podium with microphones at the far end of the hall on a wooden stage. Pole-mounted cameras on dollies were being set up at all four corners of the hall. A table near the podium held more hand-held video cameras being charged up to record the night's debauchery. I wondered what they did with the resulting video.
My attention was distracted by the entrance from a set of double doors in the rear of the building of a crew of burly men in overalls dragging large pieces of equipment into the center of the hall: beds, pommel horses, padded benches, low wooden tables, boxes of electric cables and sex toys, leather cuffs for restraining women, and whips and canes of all designs and sizes.
In the center of the hall, they set up a large, circular platform, motorized so it could rotate slowly. Romy looked at me and trembled. She knew the mayor had promised to display and fuck her tonight and do it publicly. It seemed to be her fate as this year's Summer Fuck Festival queen.
Another crew in overalls brought in a large, free-standing St. Andrew's cross and placed it beside the round, revolving stage in the middle of the arena. Others set up tall ladders that reached the ceiling where a set of mounting brackets were bolted. To these they attached electric pulleys threaded with laid rope and activated by remote control.
The citizens of Johnson did their preparations for the Fuck Festival swiftly and confidently, suggesting long practice. The rear double doors were then closed, and a crew member informed the mayor that all was ready. He mounted the podium and spoke into the microphone. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. You may now go to the change rooms and get naked."
People in the hall, including the crew, cheered at this and streamed through the door to the lobby. Romy and I followed them, and when we got our turn to exit the hall, we found they had formed two lines in the lobby, men and women, moving slowly into the change rooms. I nodded 'see you soon' to Romy as she disappeared with the women into their change room, and I followed the other men.
In the change room, I found a locker for my clothing in a bank of lockers beside the other men. We all stripped off our clothing. Once nude, the men openly inspected each others' packages, including mine, commenting to each other admiringly on the size of each others' balls and especially the size and length of cocks now on display. They inspected mine with great interest, being the new boy in town.
"Don't think he'll win the size contest," one opined, "but he's pretty good. Introduce him to your missus, Paul. He should give her a good ride." They all guffawed at this.
"What's the size contest?" I asked innocently.
"Oh," he answered almost politely, "we all line up and the women suck our pricks until they're hard. Then Emily Peters comes along with her measuring tape and measures length and girth. She has a special device for a separate size and volume measurement for your cock head. That's all entered into a mathematical formula in a computer, and the biggest penis wins."
