Pharaoh Ch. 04

Chapter 4: Willy Explains It

Given our ways, our history and culture, it can be difficult for girls to gain experience and skill at making love. For the boys too, but that doesn't matter much given the basics of biology. See the male's dick instinct can take over to make great sex for married people. But the poor girl has to have some technique or a couple's love life really suffers.

Take, for instance, Alicia's skill at fellatio, a skill we hoped somehow to highlight on Pride Day, a skill, which if she could sell it (but how?), might be a real competitive advantage. A skill at which I am amazed but for which I will be eternally grateful. I just never understood where it came from...

Wait! A phone call is coming in from the office. Weird on a Sunday afternoon. I know I said I wouldn't think about it, but maybe it's news? Maybe. I should take it.

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But of course it wasn't news. Not about the Assistant Regional Manager of Sales. It was the office cleaning staff reporting that they found my desk lamp on. It must have been on for almost 48 hours, a violation. They wanted me to know that, sorry, but they would have to report it to Internal Security. Not the biggest deal in the world. It happened to me once before.

They just sit you down on Monday for a sort of tongue lashing. Nothing very bad. It never even goes up the chain to Roger, not unless you become an habitual offender, which I am not. Doesn't go to Security even then, unless they think you're intentionally flouting the rules. Which I am not and never would.

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Where was I? Oh, yeah, Alicia's skill at sucking cock.

The first time I ever got my dick sucked was on the third day of our honeymoon. The first day we had fucked twice and it was incredible. She drained me. Maybe she didn't have a good-girl hymen (no blood) but she told me how she'd fallen on a rake in the 8th grade so that made sense. The second day we did it just once cause by bedtime she was tired out from lounging by the pool.

The third day in the afternoon she smiled her wicked little smile and asked did I want to try something different. I wasn't sure what she meant. Course in the back of my mind I had been wondering if we would ever do that. Not like I was some monk who had never heard about blowjobs. But she was so sweet and innocent I would never have suggested it.

When she took off her shirt and bra and dropped to her knees I almost went out of my mind. It was my first blowjob and my best ever, at least until that day in the doorway. She sucked me for over a minute and I came in her mouth.

I had come close to a blowjob with the college slut two years earlier. In the end she said she would only do that for an upper, and I had to settle for fucking her. I was disappointed at the time, was completely selfish and wanted to do both. Now I'm silently thanking the slut. One less thing I'd had to confess. And got my first from a much nicer, much prettier, much more talented girl. Who only happens to be my wife.

I could tell that third day that Alicia was very, very good at what she did. Not cause I could compare. Sometimes you just know. Something about how natural and pure she was on her knees. And I knew. And I was right.

I figured my wife was just naturally talented, the way some people can kick a ball better or some can sing on key or can add numbers quick in their head. Right from birth. I couldn't think of any other explanation.

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Internal Security chewed me out a little more than usual the next day. Not only had the light been left on, it was on its highest setting. That consumes 2.3 times the energy of the saver setting. Then to make it worse Jason walks by while I'm getting reamed out and stands in the doorway laughing till Security moved him along. Five minutes later Roger walks in and joins in the reaming. He ends up docking me 3% of my month's commissions. I'm pretty sure Jason must have tipped him off. About me being in there with Security.

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It was my old classmate Willy who finally straightened out the mystery of Alicia's special skill.

Six months into our marriage, Alicia had gone to visit her sister Beth, wanting to console her best she could about her trouble making a baby. I was alone for the first time since the wedding. That first night I decide to head out for a beer and sandwich down at our local pub. I'm not much of a drinker, but I'm even less of a cook. I needed dinner and I guess I wanted some company too. I'd had a hard day at work. And I missed my wife.

And, bang, first person I run into there is Scots Willy, and, bang, he pulls up a chair to join me. I think he maybe already had a few whiskeys in him. Now the two of us are alone in the corner of the pub, kind of private like, but surrounded by all this noise of clinking glasses and loud laughter and people shouting and girlish squeals.

"Are ye weel, my good laddie?" Yes I was.

And him? "Na'er been happier."

"Hae a pint oan me," he said and we settled in.

Willy and I had gone to middle school and high school together. He was a pretty nice guy but a little weird too. I was friendly, even helped him with his Chem homework sometimes, but made sure to keep my distance. We called him Scots Willy but his real name was Williams (that's right, a plural) Farnhold III, the scion of one of our minor upper families.

One day in the 8th grade Williams came to school affecting a Scottish brogue and dialect. We all thought it was hilarious and he kept it up. By the second day we were rolling our eyes. By the third day it had grown really old. By day five we were sick to death of it, we'd had enough of the act. But by day ten we were reluctantly concluding that the change might be permanent.

And it was. Willy's father later told a mutual friend that he and his wife were as baffled by the change as we were. He, the father, proposed the theory that the whole thing had been caused by some luggage falling out of a closet on Willy's head just prior. Which was as good an explanation as any.

Now Willy's hair, which had been a soft brown, had turned red and wild and wiry. His brogue was stronger than ever and he had the grizzled appearance of a man who'd been on the moors tending sheep his whole life. He looked 20 years older than me. He acted the role of elder, like one of the prophets of old.

"Ye ur marrie tae yer sweit yoong lassie Alicia, ur ye nae?"

I admitted I was. The beers showed up and I sipped mine cautiously as Willy leaped into a long confusing story about seeing Alicia at the supermarket. She was, so he said, bent over at the waist in a thin cotton dress, checking the expiration date on a can of beans. The beans being on the lowest shelf, she held herself in what Willy thought a pretty pose. He said that I was a lucky man, and that she looked strong and fit and feminine and fertile and ripe and lovely. He rather emphasized the fertile part.

I listened politely as I could. It made me miss my wife even more, and I was no longer hungry. My beer was done and I started to make an excuse to leave.

"Stay urself laddie. Buy mae oone yerself nae, 'tis fittin'."

So I got us two more beers and tried my best to relax and enjoy this eccentric goofball.

Willy asked if I had known Alicia's former boyfriend Eric. That got my attention. I had often wondered about this mysterious Eric. Alicia never mentioned him, but her Mom had let a few small, random things slip over time. This might be my chance to find out about him.

I had a natural curiosity. Nothing morbid or shameful, just natural.

"Eric wa' mae best mukker," Willy began solemnly.

"Aha."

"A sham, deid at 19!" said with a pound on the table for emphasis. Beer sloshed out of my glass. Willy's hands were huge and weather beaten, the skin cracked and callused. His gnarled knuckles shone like crystals under the pub lighting.

"Goodness. I had no idea....That's just awful." Alicia's Mom had always been so upbeat with her little comments. I would never have thought.

We paused to drink. I mopped up the spilled beer. I could see Willy's sadness welling up.

"Him, wi' th' savages in Mongolia," he said, wiping a tear from his craggy cheek.

"Yes. That's absolutely terrible. You have my condolences Willy, my sincerest condolences." I reached over and touched his hand for support.

I might have overstepped. Willy froze me with a look. His wind-ravaged face bore down on me, down from above, even though I was the taller man.

"Ye dinna serve urself, did ye?" He had suddenly turned cold.

"No, I..."

"Th' wee jimmies all sed ye booleyed up uer medical," Willy said with a glare.

"No, no. Not faked. Not at all. It was real." They had rejected me. The nose bleeds.

I felt my armpits go moist and a bead of sweat on my forehead. It was a serious charge. I wasn't lying. Why was I suddenly on trial?

Willy looked at me closely for a few seconds, as if searching my eyes for some secret within. Finally he shrugged and chuckled saying, "Doesnae matter tae me. Ye dornt swatch loch th' hero type." He chuckled again.

Willy took a long draught of beer. He let my service record go and went back to Eric.

"A manly cheil hae warr, loch a bull, strang an' handsome."

I was trying to recover, wanting now to have us glide through some easy small talk.

"Yes? I'm sure he was wonderful."

"Thet hae warr."

"So did you two grow up together, kick the ball in the playground when you were five? That sort of thing?"

Willy ignored the prompt. "Ah dinna see heem fur thrae mons afair hae left, at ma ain camp ye ken."

"I see. That must have..."

"Hae wrote tae me faithful, e' did."

"Aha." I took a sip of beer.

"Ver faithful 'e was, a stoat correspondent."

"Aha."

"Abit th' fights wi' savages." Willy looked at me carefully. He went on, "Killed puckle, 'e did." Which seemed to cheer him up a bit.

"Yes. And how, if it's not too sensitive, how did he d...?"

"An' abit th' guid times wi' yer sweit lassie tae."

This could not be good. I tried steering away from Alicia. "But how...in Mongolia... how did...?" I checked my nose for bleeding. It was OK.

"Oan th' exemption if ye please." He smiled. "Aye, a lucky dobber were Eric."

"Exempt? You mean...aaah...the tax thing?"

"Dornt be rockit yoong Jeff-er-ay. He wis a'maist 20 an' headin' off ta' wurr."

That's when I knew.

We middles have one big exception when it comes to sex before marriage, a good and sensible one. One we all support. The Warrior's Exemption. What it does is, let's say a guy is drafted and is going overseas to fight for the nation. Let's say he's like 18 or 19 like Eric or even 21 and not married yet but is going with a girl he really likes. Well, if he doesn't get drafted then he'll be having sex with her right after they get married. Which he misses out on. Cause of the draft. Plus maybe he gets killed and never comes back at all to marry that girl. Like Eric. Which means he misses out for his entire life.

Not to mention the poor girl. She misses out too.

So what the uppers did for us is make an exemption, The Warrior's Exemption. Under that rule the last 30 days before a guy ships out to fight are different. He and his girl still can't fuck. That would be too much, would be wrong. But oral sex, which we call fellatio or cocksucking or a blowjob or a gobbler or a throat probe, is different. No pregnancy, the girl and guy are both still virgins, he gets a nice pre-reward for his sacrifice, she learns some valuable skills, gets the Throat Probe Exemption for her morals, etc. So that is the compromise. The girl, so long as she's 19, or 18 with her parent's permission, can blow her boyfriend as often as he likes in the 30 days before deployment.

It had never occurred to me. I had never even heard about Eric being drafted, about his going to Mongolia to die. Never heard about any exemption. My sweet Alicia. My poor, poor girl! It hit me like a ton of bricks and I had to run a finger over my upper lip to check. Still nothing nose wise, thank God. But this was too much for me. Now I really had to get out of there. I started to stir from my seat.

Willy was just getting warmed up. He grinned warmly.

"Sucked his wee tossel 43 time, he coonted 'em fur mae."

"Willy I don't think..."

"'Er jist loch a precious lambkin suckin' 'er mommas titty. Ham trainin' 'er up jist reit."

"Willy! Wait...I don't..." I looked down at my watch and tapped the face for emphasis. "I really have to run..."

"Sed thaur is nae a body loch 'er fur th' suck."

"Ummm...yes, I'm sure...I think...sorry...I really have to..."

"She wa' loch a fesh t'water, lassie ooght tae open a schule fur suck."

I was half out of my seat. Willy reached across the table and caught my wrist with an iron grip. He held me tight and glared. Now I could feel it, feel the moisture on my upper lip.

"Gotch 'imself a guide handfool o' titty while she doon it."

That was allowed? The exemption covered her tits as well? I was pulling with all my might. My wrist was on fire.

"Trained 'er up till sh' kenned 'em all. Shaft on a Raft. Bobbin' Me Knobbin', Blow and Show, Lord MacDougall's Balls."

Willy glared once more, then broke a crooked smile. "Ye git mah meaning, dinnae ye?"

He released the grip. I backed up fast, just missing a waitress who blocked the aisle with a full tray of drinks. Now he looked cheerful, all happy and friendly like, and continued on with his list. "Mess on Yer Dress, Tongue Kitty, Th' Bagpipe Waltz,..."

The waitress pressed by me and I was forced back in over the table. Willy's glass was raised to me in a toast.

"Enjoy 'er laddie! Eric's stoaner wark. Noo she' kin be ony man's bonny geggy. Slainte!"

I turned away, now free, and scurried out. By the time I got to the car my white shirt was a bloody mess. But at least it cleared up where that skill of Alicia's had come from.

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You know what bothered me the most? I couldn't figure out how all these middles knew this stuff. First Briana knows like a million ways — woof-woof!!! — to make love. Ways that I could never have imagined. Now Eric and Willy know about 1,000 different techniques for sucking a dick. Where'd they learn this stuff? Willy might have been raised as a (minor) upper, but Bri and Eric were solidly middle, just like me. Just like Alicia. Just like pretty much all of our friends. Middles don't know these things. Why would we ever be allowed to know such things?

I realized Bri was married to an upper, but no way would she be allowed to talk about upper things she might know with another middle like Alicia. Thing made no sense.

It occurred to me that Willy might be the source of it all. There were some Scots hints in what he had listed. Bagpipe Waltz! Lord MacDougall's Balls!! Sure sounded Scots to me. I could just barely imagine how that would enable Eric to learn enough to go through Alicia's blowjob training. And it would have been wrong to begin with for Willy, as an upper, to share all this with a middle like Eric.

Course learning all this about Alicia — the Eric part, the exemption part, the blowjob skills, Willy knowing all about everything — all that bothered me too. It was pretty disturbing to picture my sweet, innocent Alicia that way.

Fuck! Forty-three? Fuck! In 18 months of marriage I'd had what? Maybe ten or twelve? Fifteen tops. I hadn't bothered like Eric to count, and sure hadn't given out details to my buddies. Forty-three in one month seemed like a pretty big number. I'd think about it and, right or wrong, would get a little bitter.

It even occurred to me it was kind of bad that, with all this skill and knowledge, she never let on any of it to me. She sure never practiced any of it on me. I was pretty sure I had never experienced Shaft on a Raft, or Tongue Kitty, whatever they were. The blowjobs I knew were what all the guys would snicker over in a naughty locker-room. The girl's head bobs up and down pretty fast, it gets wet, she forms a circle with her forefinger and thumb to pump the base a few times, it feels good and then you cum. Usually into a tissue or napkin. But four times now in Alicia's mouth, which was crazy enough for me.

Then I'd feel bad. My morals kicked in and I had to be fair about it.

I mean Eric was on the Warrior's Exemption, and it must have been with her parent's permission. Her Dad and Mom would have been sticklers for that sort of thing. Plus it was in the rules and I never want to be one of those guys who goes around bitching about rules set by our betters, for our own good, for the good of the nation. It was unpatriotic.

Eric had actually been killed by savages! And I'm sorry he got this good thing before? What? He should die without ever getting a gobbler? And my sweet Alicia was just doing her duty. Was being a good and patriotic girl. And now I'm disappointed in her? Nice going Jeff. Nice way to support your wife.

So I got a grip on myself and tried my best to be happy both for Eric and what he got, and for Alicia and how she served her country. And proud of how skilled she was. But deep inside I still thought she might at least have mentioned it. Which is kind of bad.

I tried to stop worrying about it all. I just couldn't stop wondering how these people knew these things.