Free Universal Carnal Knowledge Pt. 14

XIV

"Ducks in a row"

The following morning, as the radio news was telling us that the hot fine weather would finally break today, Wendy and I discussed the situation again, and she offered me some advice. "Get organised, James. Get your ducks in a row. [An interesting choice of phrase.] You can't just lurch from one unforeseen crisis to the next."

It was a sound suggestion. On the way to work I thought about how to implement it. I was very clear that I wanted to sort out the women I had got so far before I thought about capturing any more. It was a crying shame, though. I could see at least two highly fuckable young women in my carriage, but with great restraint I hung around the men and ugly women and got to work safely.

Once in my office I actually managed to get some work done before, as I had expected, there was a knock at the door.

Fran entered. She was transformed from the angry, frustrated woman that had left the office the night before. Her eyes sparkled, she was wreathed in smiles, she broke out at intervals in girlish giggles, and she somehow looked younger than her twenty-two years.

"'Morning Fran. You look well."

She flopped down in the chair and let her hair fall across her face. She blew some of it aside so I could see her expression, and giggled again.

"Oh, James," she sighed, and shot me a dazzling smile, "I feel marvellous. I knew it would be good but I never dreamt it would be like this. I feel ten times the person I was yesterday, I can't stop smiling and laughing, it's just wonderful. I'm so glad you chose me, darling. And as for last night -- well, I daren't even think about it, I just go all goose-pimply. Do you know it was ten o'clock before I could even get off the bed?"

I asked her to tell me more about this. These post-coital trances were a consequence of FUCK that I needed to understand.

"Well," she began after a pause to marshal her thoughts, "after we went to bed, er, made love, er --" She hesitated. "James," she inquired, "what do you like to call it?"

"Well, Fran, at least in a private conversation I like to keep it simple and call it 'fucking'."

"Oh yes, of course," she agreed immediately. "That's the best word. I don't know why, but I never liked it before. After we fucked," she resumed, "I couldn't move. My whole body tingled like pins and needles only far more intense and it felt so lovely. My eyes were open but everything was so bright and I couldn't work out what I was looking at. And there was this rushing sound in my ears; I could hear other things, like when you were getting dressed, but they seemed far away. And there was this steady, regular thumping noise, too; I remember trying to think what on earth it could be."

"You were conscious, then?"

"Oh, yes. All the time, I think. I remember you kissed me when you left. I wanted to talk to you, get you to stay, but I couldn't speak or move a muscle. I couldn't even respond to your kiss."

"So after I left, you just lay there on cloud nine?"

"It was cloud ninety-nine," she corrected me with another glorious smile. "It was just bliss, utter bliss, it's the only word. Eventually I realised that the thumping noise was my own heart and slowly my eyes started to focus and the ringing in my ears got quieter, but for quite a while my eyeballs were the only thing I could move. As my feeling started to come back I realised I had some wet sticky stuff between my legs and I could feel it running down onto my bottom but I didn't realise what it was at first. And James, when I started to move, huge dollops of it just kept oozing out of me. When I stood up it ran all down my legs. James, darling, my beautiful James, how do you do that?"

I was taken aback to hear my modest and demure Fran discuss such things with this joyous abandon. Without waiting for a reply, she went on in the same vein. I got the impression she had been thinking about this a lot.

"Before, when I've been with, er, sorry, fucked someone, there's only been a few dribbles of it. And James, having you inside me, I've never known anything like that before. They were so little compared with you. And when you made me climax it was like -- oh, I don't know -- like explosions of light in my brain and waves of warmth and loveliness washing over my body -- oh, James, I can't describe it properly, there just aren't worrds. And you kept doing it again and again, it was so wonderful, James, just like you. Oh, look," she concluded lamely, holding up her arm; "goose-pimples."

I had sat enthralled, and I have to say rather aroused, enjoying the novel experience of hearing Fran, Fran of all people, talking cheerfully about sex with such uninhibited candour.

"Well, Fran, it's nice to see you so happy. And I presume you'd be willing to do something for me."

"Oh, James," she replied blithely, "just name it." Then she added brightly, with a touch of the old Fran spirit, "I'll hum the national anthem if you like."

"That won't be necessary," I smiled. "Tell me about Gabriella. Is it right she's not round your place very much?"

"She's moving in with Manlio. She rang last night to tell me. I couldn't move to answer the phone but she left a message on the machine."

"Better and better. Fran, I think I'll be visiting your flat on a pretty regular basis."

She looked so pleased she could hardly reply. "James, darling James, please start today."

"I intend to, and I'd like to bring Connie too."

I thought this might discombobulate her (to use her word) but not a bit of it. "James, that would be perfect. You'll have such fun with both of us." She added confidentially, "We were talking about you earlier."

"You've seen her already, then?"

"Yes. She said hello as soon as I came in. [Connie in before Fran? This was a first.] We had a good talk. She said she could see the look in my eye. She's all right really, isn't she, James?"

"The two of you were biting chunks out of each other yesterday," I reminded her. "You called her loud and she said you had a -- well," I concluded, "I gathered she thought you were stuck up."

Fran smiled blithely. "I'm sure I deserved it. I understand her better now. We're friends. I'd love her to join us."

"Good," I said in a businesslike way. "This will normally be after work but today it'll be at lunchtime so you'd better go and invent some excuse for a long lunch. Tell Connie the same. Till lunchtime, then, Fran."

It proved to be a wonderful lunchtime. The two girls showed no inhibition at all about a threesome. After exploring them both thoroughly I took Fran first, restraining myself from emptying all my spunk in her and transferring rapidly to Connie's gaping hole to deposit the rest. Both girls had gratifyingly huge orgasms and blissed out. I needed a bit of recovery time myself before I could detach myself from the black and white limbs entwined on the bed and get myself a cold drink. By the time I had got dressed to leave Connie was coming out of it. This supported a theory I was beginning to form that the recovery period tended to diminish over time. I asked her to stay until Fran began to come down, to make sure she was all right and would get back to work.

I enjoyed a productive afternoon's work occasionally interrupted by thoughts not only of Fran and Connie but also, as the day wore on, more and more of Alicia. Connie came back nearly an hour after me and Fran more than an hour after that. Fran, especially, returned too soon, because she looked glazed and distant, and I gather that at least once she simply tuned out in the middle of a conversation with some colleague and stared goofily into space. She had to say she had a bad toothache and was taking industrial-strength painkillers.