Some time ago, I heard a speaker from the National Geographic's deep ancestry program. They test DNA from people around the world. Men are tested only for the Y chromosome which is passed directly from father to son. There are slight alterations to the chromosome, so differences can be traced. After hearing the speaker, I ordered a kit, did the swab-on-the-inside-of-my-cheek thing and sent it off. In a couple of months, I got the results, telling me that 30,000 years ago, my direct male ancestor was a Cro-Magnon man in southern France. I base this fiction on that fact.
Disclaimer: I know nothing about the Cro-Magnon culture, except for their art: their fantastic paintings found in caves in France and Spain. Probably no one knows anything about their sexual practices or their hunting practices. Little is known about how or why their cave paintings originated. It is assumed that they hunted the big game animals that appear in the paintings: Aurochs (wild cattle), mammoths, horses, and hairy rhinos. Why they spray-painted the outlines of hands is not known.
Ever wonder about the great cave paintings of the Cro-Magnon culture: the outline paintings of big game animals, the paintings of hands, somehow made by spray-painting around a hand held against the cave wall? Well, I'll tell you.
You see, I'm a Cro-Magnon hunter. A couple of weeks ago my hunting partner was killed in a hunt. A huge bull Aurochs gored him with his horn, then tossed him around. We speared and killed the bull; but my partner was killed. Now, he was more than my hunting partner, he was my partner in everything. We slept together, we hunted together, we made our spears and knives together, if there was a fight with another tribe, we partners fought as a unit, and we were sexual partners.
And now he was gone.
Without a hunting partner, I can hardly survive. And the tribe won't let me join in the hunts that provide food for us all. Furthermore, I can't have real sex, sex with another man, unless I have a hunting partner. Sure I can have sex with my wife, and do. If I can convince them, I can have sex with unmated girls. On summer solstice, I can have sex with any woman in the tribe that I can catch. But I can't have real sex with another man, unless I have a hunting partner. If I have sex with someone else's hunting partner, I'll be driven out to die alone. The tribe can't afford to have anyone breaking apart a hunting couple. We all depend on those couples.
A week after my partner was killed by the bull, another man in our tribe was killed. The hunting party was trying to kill a mammoth, when the animal picked up the man, threw him to the ground and stomped on him. He was killed. His partner was left without a hunting partner, same as me.
Now the chief and the shaman have decided that the two of us are to become hunting partners. Our partners, who were killed, had been our partners since we were half growns -- young teenagers. We learned to hunt together, to make weapons together, to fight together, to wrestle together, to have sex together. Now we will become each other's partner, so we can continue to hunt. My new partner will be several years younger than me. After I die, he will probably have a third partner. But for now, we will be inseparable.
We are about to go into the cave for the partnering ceremony. All the men in our tribe are gathered in the outer cave. There are about four twelves of men gathered in the cave, our whole tribe of adult men. Everyone over thirteen. The chief and shaman are leading us. They each have a lit torch; otherwise the cave is dark. It is dark outside. We can smell roasted meat in the inner cave, where some men have cooked it. Cooking is usually done by women, except for ceremonies in the inner cave.
The chief and shaman lead us into the inner cave. My soon-to-be partner and I are just behind them. Each man takes off all his clothes as he enters the inner cave. The furs are placed in a pile by the door to the cave. The other men make a circle around us. By the flickering torches we can see the paintings on the walls of the cave. Huge animals that seem almost alive. The sacred paintings of hands within some of the animals.
We know what we must do. Before we become partners, we must wrestle to see which one of us will be the lead hunter, will make the decisions. We stand facing each other in the middle of the circle. We pace around each other, looking for a way to throw the other man down. Finally, I get my leg behind his and force him down. I climb on top of him, try to hold him down, but he rolls me off and gets over me. We struggle and roll. For half-an-hour, neither of us can keep the other down. Finally, he pins me so I cannot move. I am exhausted. He puts a knee on each of my arms. I am held down. He pushes his erect penis in my face. He will be the lead hunter.
The second part of the ceremony begins. My partner slides his knees off my arms. He slides his body over mine. The whole lengths of our bodies are touching. He begins to rub his penis around on mine, which is again erect. He grinds and thrusts his penis against mine. The men around us cheer him on, as they did during the wrestling match. I begin to pump back against him. His lips meet mine and we kiss. Our lips are locked together. Our whole bodies are locked together, rubbing together. But mainly our penises are humping and thrusting and circling together. We are covered with sweat and dust from the floor. Our penises are covered with pre-cum and are sliding against each other. Passion overtakes us. We pump faster and faster. Then we explode and a big cheer goes up from the other men. The third part of the ceremony is about to begin.
The chief and shaman pry us apart. We do not want to be separated. We are bonded now. We are partners. But we know we must be separated for this. The shaman sprinkles ground-up red stone, red powder over our bellies. He mixes it with the sweat and cum that is already there. He makes a red paint that smears our whole bellies. Then he scrapes it up with a moose antler, made into a scraping tool. He leaves only enough on us to leave our bellies painted red. He goes to the wall and begins to paint the wall with a finger dipped in the paint. By magic, a mare begins to appear on the wall; in a little while, she is there, running away from us. He calls us to join him. My new partner places his right hand on the mare's side; I place my left hand below his hand. The shaman sucks the remaining paint off the antler. He puts his mouth just above our hands. He puckers his lips and blows. Red paint, made of stone-dust and our sweat and cum, sprays out of his mouth. It covers our hands and the wall around them. He tells us to remove our hands. When we do, a magic picture of them remains on the side of the mare.
The fourth part of the ceremony begins; we all feast on the roasted meat and drink the fermented grain broth that has been made. Everyone wants to eat, but everyone is in a hurry. They all want the fifth part of the ceremony to begin. As soon as everyone has eaten, each couple goes to a spot on the floor. My new partner and I are included. Each couple begins to roll around on the floor, to thrust against each other. We will keep at it all night. Until each couple falls asleep in each other's arms. Some couples do not fall asleep. My new partner and I stay at it all night. Neither of us has had sex with another man for weeks.
In the morning, guys begin to wake. We file out of the cave. Each man picks up his clothes by the door. Everyone can see that my partner and I are now a couple. The backs of our hands are red. Our bellies are red. We will not bathe till it wears off. It is our badge of bonding.
Well, you wondered about those cave paintings. About the big animals. About the spatter-painted hands. About what kind of paint has lasted for tens of thousands of years. Now you know.
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