For those few remaining who met the conditions, impregnation was awkward for me. My instinct was to penetrate them deeply before the true sperm would ejaculate. So to foil that instinctive response, I instructed them to reach behind as the swelling began and to grasp me behind the bulge, holding it and preventing it from entering them fully. This triggered the impulse and ejaculation took place closer to the entrance to their vagina where the best chance of success lay. It was still largely a matter of chance as nature does not abide by fixed rules. Yet I persisted with this category of client and began to achieve a rather higher than average level of success. In fact around seventy percent. But only because most Studs can’t be bothered fiddling around with all the extra hassles.
My motivation arose strangely enough because the last client of the day on one occasion turned out to be none other than the memorable Juicy Lucy, as charming and voluptuous as ever and desiring yet another daughter. “So the first one turned out to be a girl, as you wished?” I queried.
“Exactly so,” Lucy remarked and I am seeking out your services for the sole reason that you were successful the last time and if you are successful this time, then I’ll return again.”
I knew better than to ask why she wanted so many daughters and contented myself with impregnating her to the best of my ability. The mating was more than usually satisfying and apparently Lucy thought so too, because she said, “As this is your last appointment, why don’t you have a cup of coffee with me at the café opposite?”
Although by then, I had impregnated hundreds of them, I confess to still being no wiser as to the motivations of the female species. Here I was probably not alone for it’s a brave male who claims otherwise. I shrugged, “It’s a little unorthodox, but not forbidden, are you married incidentally?”
“No.”
Well that sounded definite enough. I made a mental note to get Erin (the nurse that is) to check up on that detail. “I can’t see why not,” I replied cautiously, “but I would have thought that what with our earlier background, you’d prefer to seek social company with someone more congenial.”
“Not at all,” Lucy responded, “I’ve already told you that the past is past and I’m curious about your work here and I also discover there is something of an…affinity between us.”
Yes I suppose that’s true. When you’ve fucked someone several times, there is undoubtedly an affinity between you. Whether it’s a good affinity or a bad affinity remains to be seen, but I could see no harm in a cup of coffee, so said, “Okay.”
The coffee itself was pleasant. Lucy’s company was even more so. But only because she strenuously exerted herself to employ all her considerable charm to make herself casual, appealing, charming, reserved by turns, good-humoured, adoring…in other words she turned it all on. The suspicious side of my nature wondered why. The dog side couldn’t help but lap up at least some of it. We parted on cordial terms.
The tenure at my home town passed rather quickly, one appointment soon blurring into another. I idly wondered during this passing parade, if a ram in the field ever pondered on his rôle in impregnating a flock of sheep. Did he ponder on the meaning of life, his place in it, or did he just blindly mount the nearest one—which was more or less what I was doing anyway, except that I was getting paid for it whereas the ram—as far as I was aware, was not.
Chapter 9
Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold.
It was in the fourth year after Lucy had successfully given birth to three daughters that I fell a little under her sway. Well quite a lot actually. It’s hard to ignore Lucy if she has her mind set on being adoringly attentive to you. She had hinted at times of visiting an old farmstead in the country which her parents had at one time used in a fondly ambitious attempt at farming. When the reality struck home that Major Luckner was better suited to the whiskey bottle than the cowshed, he abandoned further pretensions and the place was allowed to decline into a graceful neglect.
I had just arrived back at home base after my third tour of duty in the cities and provinces. I was considered a valuable member of the Ministry as my record showed a confirmed count of 3,674 pregnancies. Not a record admittedly, but a very good score and I was well on the way to a comfortable retirement. But that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. Not for another thirty-seven years actually. I found the thought a bit depressing and in a moment of weakness elected to take up Lucy’s pressing offer of a holiday weekend in the country rather than visit my family and sister.
Lucy was wearing a tank top and jeans which she somehow managed to invest with surprising elegance. On Lucy even rags looked fashionable. She drove to meet me in the family car, an antique Daimler which by virtue of its extreme rarity had acquired an exaggerated prestige amongst her exclusive set of friends. Late afternoon sun was already fading into dusk as we set off for the farmhouse. City streets gave way to rolling hills. We passed through outlying clumps of trees then a patch of forest.
“Where are you working at the moment?” I was curious as Lucy tended to change jobs rather fast.
“Hmn, High Street Boutique, you know women’s clothes. Fashion stuff.”
“You like it?”
“It’s okay, I was going to study for the Interior Design course but somehow didn’t get around to it. Besides with three girls my options are limited. How about you? You enjoy your work?”
“It’s a job and a meal ticket. Fortunately it doesn’t require a lot of theoretical training to qualify.”
“Doing what comes naturally, huh?” Lucy grinned.
“Something like that. Ah, we’re arriving.”
Lucy turned the car into a gravel driveway lined with trees on both sides. The farmhouse stood well back at the end. It was larger than I’d expected and not as dilapidated. Apparently dilapidated is a relative word depending on your lifestyle or perhaps the depth of your pocket. We pulled up at the rear and passed through a small courtyard. Lucy fumbled in her handbag for keys then we were inside. The air smelt dry and dusty with a faint residue of crumbling mould. Lucy opened windows, checked the hallway and lounge. Nothing had been disturbed.
“I’ve arranged for a barbeque if that’s okay with you,”
“Suits me fine.”
Lucy opened a cupboard retrieving various ingredients which she had stored there earlier in the day. “Could you get a package from the car for me, the beef and sausages.” Lucy handed me her car keys. “Lock it after you. Thanks.”
While Lucy busied herself in the kitchen I coaxed a fire into life in the barbeque. It consisted of a heavy iron stand in the courtyard, supporting a tray in which I arranged paper and twigs. Once it was alight, heavier logs and some pine cones took hold and crackled briskly.
Dusk turned imperceptibly to twilight. The air was still, warm and the only sounds a faint chirping and susurration of night insects. Occasionally a moth fluttered by. Lucy appeared carrying plates laden with salads and sauces. The fire gradually died to a mass of red, glowing embers. I placed a metal plate above them and Lucy busied herself with pieces of beef and the pre-cooked sausages. Through a faint drift of pine smoke the aroma of barbequed beef and sausages took precedence. I became aware that I was quite hungry.
We took turns at skewering a sausage or morsel of beef dipped in a piquant red sauce to add to our plate of salad, potato, diced carrot and peas as we reclined on canvas deck chairs. I thought Lucy had never looked so beautiful. Presently she reached for a bottle of tart white wine, opened it, poured two glasses. Our conversation drifted over many topics, reflecting on the past, wondering where life would take us in the future. I pointed to Lucy’s glass “You’ve hardly touched your wine.” A thought occurred to me, “You’re not pregnant again are you?”