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.
