DAY ONE
"When you're here you have to obey our customs!" Laara had pulled her top down, pushed me into a chair and roughly unbuckled my pants. Her breasts were gorgeous brown orbs capped with flowering pink nipples. She was a Caravan woman, and saying no to what she wanted was not an option.
"Just let me suck you," she said, as she ran her fingers up and down my penis, and then to my balls, where she tugged with some force. I let out a moan.
This curvaceous Caravan woman then popped my prick in her lips and began to lick the head. She gazed up at me with her deep brown eyes, and I felt as if I was falling into a deep abyss. I began to groan deeply. I felt ready to squirt my seed in her mouth. But she suddenly spat me out.
"You have to speak to me roughly," she said sternly.
"I'm not used to that," I answered weakly. "Our women don't like such things."
"I'm not one of your Dwelling prissy bitches," Laara spat. "I'm a tight cunted Caravan woman. And if you want me to swallow your seed, you will order me to do so. Or I will leave!" and she pointed at the door. I had no choice. I nodded.
She leaned forward again. She placed her mouth on the tip of my cock, and then took it entirely in her mouth. It was too much to bear. I was about to come for a very long time.
"Take my come, you Caravan Whore," was all that I could say. I knew it was the phrase Caravan Whore was common among Carvan men just before orgasm. Then I poured my seed into her mouth. It just kept shooting, but she kept the cock in all the way, her nose against my public bone. She squeezed my balls vigorously; it elongated my orgasm. When my seed stopped flowing, she leaned back, taking deep breaths. She licked her lips and smiled.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"
I had to admit it wasn't bad at all.
This was my wife for three days. She was tall and raven haired. She had strong legs and wide child bearing hips. Her face was calm, broad and symmetrical. Her brow was handsome and prominent.
Like all Caravan women, she had firm expectations of man. The senior scientist on my team had briefed me about what to expect among the Caravan Folk.
"They will assign you a wife during your stay," he said. "She will usher you into the rites. If she is a good wife, and they usually are, she'll tell you about rites. An even better wife will involve you in the rites. Get her to perform as many as possible. As many as you can bear. When you've returned, you'll be debriefed.
"I like a Dwelling man in my pussy," Laara told me later, pulling her substantial tits back into her blouse.
"Your cocks are smooth and clean. Our men are better endowed than you Dwellers, but they have rough cocks. There is something to be said for a tidy prick. Now you just have to learn how to fuck and how to talk while fucking!"
I had only been with Laara a few hours, but I was already getting used to her choice words. This was how Caravan women spoke to men. Among the Caravan Folk there is a certain discomfort of without a female sexual partner. So when a man from another caravan, or a Dwelling man comes to visit, they are assigned a wife for the number of days they will stay.
She is usually married already. We think there was once widespread violence among Caravan men, and the Caravan Mothers created various sexual rights to diffuse male violence. Ever since male violence is very rare in the Caravans
Certainly the actions during the Lorry Rite suggest a ceremony with roots in defusing male violence. The Rite contains elements that "drain" men of their virility. It has many points of verbal sexual abuse (and lower levels of physical sexual abuse). The Rite works to channel these energies into a socially acceptable act which every man shares. But even outside the structure of the Rite on a daily basis caravan women work to sap men of their virility.
"You need to take me in my cunt before you leave this lorry," Laara told me as she stood up. I was expected to come twice?
"I don't have the strength of your men," I told her, hitching up my pants. "I won't have an erection for hours, at least. You must give me time."
"That's nonsense," she said, waiving a hand. "I've never seen a man below fifty who can't get a second stand if a woman knows what she is doing. And rest easy I know what I'm doing."
She turned around quickly, and was in my lap. Her face was close to mine. She smelled of smoke and lavender. She wore the long dress of a Caravan woman, but when she sat on me, she slyly hitched it up. Her legs were long, muscular and brown. She placed my hands on her upper thighs. My cock stirred. She liked how it felt, and began to gently rub her broad, shapely bottom against my crotch.
"There you go," she said, whispering in my ear. Her breath was hot. I felt as if she was killing me. "My husband sometimes complains after he spends that he has no more seed in his balls, as he is getting older, but a young boy such as yourself can harden if a woman so much as touches your neck." And she did so, dragging her index finger along my neck and I was on fire.
"I'm not a boy," I told her, not very convincingly. I felt as if I had just been born.
"Well," she teased me, running her face along the side of my face. "Not quite a man either. If you don't know how to properly fuck a woman, or talk to her, how can you call yourself a man then?"
I then realized Laara was going to invoke the Rite of the Mother-Whore. I needed to perform this rite with her, as it was seldom enacted, let alone observed.
"What would you do to usher me to manhood," I asked leadingly.
"I would bathe you as a mother must her young ones. I would need to clean out all of you, top to bottom. Then you would need to submit to the Discipline of the Mother."
We were so close, we were gazing into each other's eyes. My cock was as hard as stone. She stood up, and grasped my hand, pulling me toward her. We kissed deeply. Her tongue was fully in my mouth, moving in circles. It thought I would collapse.
We stepped down from her lorry and she took me into the woods behind the field. Another lorry was parked under a tree. I followed her up the steps. A tub was right in the entryway and a drape closed off the other part of the caravan. There was a spigot and she poured hot water into the tub.
