Free Universal Carnal Knowledge
XXXVIII
“That’s it”
When I had finished eating I sat back and stared blankly in front of me. I wanted to shut my eyes but every time I tried it I saw that awful look on Nina’s face as she realised she was about to be raped – no, that last clause is a cowardly evasion, scratch it. I should have written as she realised I was about to rape her.
Wendy was the first to break a very strained silence. “James, darling,” she muttered softly, “there are three more girls waiting downstairs. Elspeth’s gone to pick up another two from the station.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I shut my eyes in anguish only to open them immediately as I saw Nina’s terrified face again.
Fran, the only person with any moral standing at that moment, squatted down before me and took my hand, rubbing it gently. “James, darling, I know it will be hard for you but you can’t let them down,” she coaxed.
I groaned incoherently.
“James,” she said, a sudden note of insistence in her voice, “look at me.”
Reluctantly I complied.
“I’ve been there,” she said. “Take my word for it. I was going crazy for you for only a few days; they’ve been suffering for nearly a fortnight. I can’t begin to imagine what that would be like. They must be almost demented. And if you’ve told them they’re going to have you today, then when they get here you tell them they can’t, I don’t know what will happen. It would be inhumanly cruel. You can’t do it, darling.”
She looked up at me imploringly. Her eyes, despite the tears that were starting to form, had a strange new intensity about them and they glinted in a way that was almost metallic, as if cobalt had reinvented itself as a shade of green instead of blue. It struck me that despite all I had been through with Fran I had never properly looked at her eyes until this moment. And as I stared at her it seemed to me that she alone really understood what had happened and how I felt. The realisation swept over me that she had achieved after all what she set out to do when we spoke in my office the day after Albert’s funeral. She had not stopped me from loving Wendy, which I had done for over twenty years until it was part of my soul, but at that moment I knew that I loved Fran too.
“All right,” I said dully. “Give me fifteen minutes and send the next one up.”
The others helped me remove the four whores to the twins’ rooms to recover and I sat on the bed awaiting, and dreading, the next caller. I could not remember the last time I had felt so unsexy. Finally there was a knock at the door and Wendy ushered in Arwen, the fragile-looking blonde. Her eyes widened in wonder as if she could not believe that we were face to face at last; then she gripped the white blouse she was wearing and literally ripped it apart, buttons flying in all directions, to reveal her breasts.
I remembered now how this same girl had brazenly grabbed my cock at the garden party and written me a note simply saying “Fuck me” without even supplying a name. This sexual forwardness was such a dramatic contrast to her delicate, almost ethereal appearance that I felt a twinge of excitement and my flaccid cock slightly stiffened. I was ashamed of this reaction but I had no time to worry about it because she was already rid of the rest of her clothes and she literally threw herself at me, pressing her lips to mine and frantically groping for my cock. “She’s in for a disappointment,” I thought, but I was wrong. In the few seconds it took her hands to home in, their target had become proudly erect.
My conscious mind still had no appetite for sex but my baser urges took over. Hardly knowing what I was doing, in fact feeling almost like a spectator, I thrust inside her. She looked so fragile that I thought I ought to try to exercise some control and treat her gently, but she forced herself down upon me with a series of powerful hip movements and came massively. The sight of this delicate frame tossing in the throes of ecstasy was too much for me and any idea of gentleness vanished in a frenzy of fucking. Shaking with sexual tension she came again and again and then great jets of hot spunk flooded into her and after a last huge convulsion she was still and limp.
And so the conveyor belt resumed; one happy lovelorn girl seemed to melt into the next. Wendy or Fran would call the name as each girl entered but I hardly took it in. Even some of the faces seemed unfamiliar; I realised that the process of fancying women and generating the right pheromones must have been going on that day in the tent at an unconscious as well as a conscious level. Inge, the Danish girl on the tube, drifted by at one point, I noticed, but most of the time I was just fucking, fucking, fucking I knew not whom.
I took a bit more notice when Fran announced Ursula’s name. Having given her some erotic attention even before FUCK entered my life (although sadly she had not been present when I did it), I was determined to give her a good show. She was, as I had hoped and anticipated, very forward and confident sexually. She was almost stripped before she entered the room and ran to the bed immediately and held out her arms for me to join her. Her whole body was a glorious golden brown that seemed perfectly even from head to toe, and as she lay down she gathered those silky raven tresses so that they rested on top of her, negotiating the obstruction of her beautiful firm round tits and going on to reach well past her waist. As I had half expected, she was immaculately shaven.
She drew up her legs and spread them wide to pull apart the lips of her cunt. Already I could see the glistening of her juices. I leapt on top of her, pausing briefly to kiss and caress her breasts as I manoeuvred into position. As soon as I started to enter her, she lifted her legs and locked them behind me, flexing them powerfully to drive me deep inside as she gasped and moaned in sexual passion. She was everything I had dreamt of the first time I saw her. I thrust inside her as hard as I could. “Yes! Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried in that coarse antipodean accent as I pounded her to one climax after the next.
I had been trying all day never to let myself go totally; always to hold something in reserve for the next girl. But as I fucked Ursula for all I was worth and she orgasmed uncontrollably beneath me and still cried for more, restraint was impossible. I felt the warmth of the spunk rising within me and my cock tensed itself to force it into her. She seemed to sense the end was near because her legs, still locked behind me, flexed more violently than ever and forced me down onto her and into her as I gave a final desperate thrust. A huge blast of hot sticky cum gushed forth, followed by another and another and another as I squeezed every drop from my balls and with a piercing, almost triumphant, ululating cry she exploded into an enormous final climax and lay still.
I rolled off her and lay back panting for air. After a few minutes I realised Wendy was in the room, holding her checklist of girls and looking at me with a strange smile for which I was unable to account. As I struggled to speak Fran, Connie, and some others came in too.
“I’m sorry,” I finally gasped. “I need a break before the next one.”
“That’s it,” said Wendy, entering a tick on the list.
I pulled myself into a half-sitting position. “What do you mean, ‘That’s it.’?”
“I mean, ‘That’s it.’,” she replied, looking thoroughly pleased and proud. “You’ve done it. That’s the lot. She was the last one.”
I looked at the blissed-out Ursula and back at Wendy. “I’ve done it?” I echoed weakly.
“Thirty-one girls,” announced Wendy, “in –” she turned to Fran. “How long?”
Fran checked her watch. “Twelve hours, forty-three minutes,” she replied. “That’s, er,” she paused a moment for mental arithmetic, “just under twenty-five minutes each, on the average.”
I had had no idea they were timing me like an Olympic athlete.
“Thirty-one girls in twelve and three-quarter hours,” repeated Wendy. “An astonishing achievement, darling. I’m so proud of you. We all are.”
“Er, thanks,” I said modestly. I was still trying to take it in. I had had no thought of completing my labours on the first day alone; some girls, I had expected, would have to wait an impatient night to be seen to in the morning. I struggled to stand; Fran and Connie rushed up to support me.
“Do you need to rest, darling,” asked Wendy solicitously, “or can you manage the stairs?”
“I can manage,” I said weakly. Fran and Connie moved aside leaving me standing unsteadily but unsupported and from behind me some female hands – I had not even the strength to turn round to see whose – helped me into a huge white dressing-gown many sizes too big even for a large man like me. I followed Wendy out of the room, Fran and the others following behind.
As I began to descend into the hall I was stunned by a sudden eruption of noise. The whole place was crammed with naked girls, all looking up at me with huge smiles and adoring eyes and applauding for all they were worth. I thought for a moment I ought to make a speech but I could think of nothing to say, so I raised my hand to acknowledge the clapping and slowly followed Wendy down the stairs. At the bottom I had to press my way past outstretched hands and naked bodies. “Thank you, thank you,” girls said, or simply called my name. The scene was extraordinary, totally unexpected, and somehow very moving.
I scanned the smiling faces until I saw Nina. It was no wonder I had trouble finding her; happily applauding, she in no way stood out from the rest.
Wendy led me into the dining room where a handsome meal was waiting. I smelt it before I saw it and realised I was, not surprisingly after my exertions, ravenously hungry. As I ate, girls came alone or in small groups and simply gazed fondly at me. If I made the slightest move to reach for the salt or to refill my glass one of them would step smartly forward to do it for me. When I had finished and sat back replete, I looked for a napkin to wipe my mouth but a couple of girls appeared so that I should not have to perform even this tiny task for myself.
Wendy sat with me and congratulated me again on my performance, and I told her how moving I had found the acclamation she had organised for me.
“How many?” I asked, struck by a sudden thought.
“Thirty-one”, she confirmed.
“Sorry,” I explained; “I mean, how many altogether? All my girls are here, aren’t they? How many have we assembled in all?”
She paused for calculation. “Forty-nine,” she replied, “including me.”
“One for every year of my life,” I pointed out; “until tomorrow, anyway.”
After eating I relaxed in the drawing room. The place was full of gorgeous naked girls, but they seemed content to look at me lovingly and made few attempts to speak. For a while I was equally happy to look back at them, for there was astonishing beauty wherever my eye rested, but finally I asked Fran to accompany me into the garden. I wanted a serious word with her.