Pharaoh

Chapter 3: Alicia, Billy, Woof and Rules for Middles

Alicia had started working out with her friends. Gym memberships shot up 47% in two weeks. It got so overcrowded the girls would sometimes wait 30 minutes or more for the treadmill or the elliptical. I made sure she didn't overdue it, part of the team. Some of Alicia's loveliness is a little hint of baby fat in her cheeks, her breasts and even her belly. It emphasized her youth, that she was in a sense even I could appreciate, unplucked. We didn't want to lose that.

She said losing three pounds wasn't going to hurt, if she could get them off her waistline and not her boobs or butt. And it worked.

Alicia is a little taller than most of the other girls around. She's 5'7" in a field of mostly 5'4" and 5'5" girls. We figured the extra height might be an advantage since the Pharaohs tended to be in the 6'2" range. I myself am fully 6 feet tall and know from experience that tiny, tiny girls can look ridiculous next to a man of size.

Not to brag, and she'd never say it herself, but Alicia is perfectly proportioned. Excellent tits, a very healthy handful of perky B cup, perfectly shaped and perfectly symmetrical, with just the right size pink nipples. So soft and so firm at the same time. Nipples that electrify easily and often. A tiny waist even with the baby fat. An ass that drives guys up the wall. (You should have seen them in the DR.) Hair above and below that is fine and thick, and soft and golden. She trims her cunt to set off the lovely rubbery lips and moist coral interior.

You'd have to see her as I had. Naked, post-shower, slightly bent at the waist, hair hanging forward for drying. Gorgeous tits bouncing as she toweled out water. Lovely. An even better view from behind. Her slender thighs and pussy making a gorgeous heart shaped keyhole, pretty cunt lips hanging to form the scalloped top. Nearly stops my heart. Every time.

Alicia was born with this natural, unassuming and wholesome good girl sexuality. Every girl wanted her body and face. Every guy was ga-ga over her. But she was mine.

And pretty, oh so pretty. A longish slender and graceful neck contained a surprisingly accommodating throat, dazzling blue-green eyes, a tiny nose and a wide generous inviting mouth. Wonderfully plump red lips, dazzling and perfect white teeth, a lively and flexible tongue. A cute chin. A dimple. The nicest smile I'd ever seen.

She said that Danielle and Elizabeth were prettier, a claim I would respectfully dispute. Danielle was incredibly pretty but had weak cheekbones; Elizabeth's eyes were not as vibrant. The other girls? Sam's tits were cute but not exactly perky. Janie's ass was a bit flat. Briana had a narrow mouth. Only Alicia was perfect.

She was right though about Elizabeth's tits — a very bouncy, healthy and upturned C cup. If you like that sort of thing.

But what would he like? What would Pharaoh be like? What would he prefer? Answer: No way of knowing. Before that, what would the judges on White Girl Pride Day like? They could pick zero, one, two or all three girls. What if Alicia, Danielle and Elizabeth were selected? Or even Sam, who was more ladylike, in place of Danielle?

That one was easy. I, along with everyone else in town, would go stark raving mad with joy.

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In the fourth week Billy stormed the Mayor's office drunk, trying to deliver a petition for exemption of his pretty (but about to be 22 year old) wife Lisa. Security had him on the floor and cuffed before he got within 20 yards off the Mayor's office. The judge the next day threw the book at Billy. Best case we'd see him again in 6 months. Or maybe never.

We all thought it was a shame. Billy was a good guy, a good husband and a good friend. Still, we knew how stupid it was. Drinking is more or less tolerated in moderation, but more than that is definitely frowned on for middles. Plus, the Mayor didn't even have the power to change Pharaoh rules. That was up to the producers of the show, and ultimately to the government. The upper classes were not going to change the rules for one white girl.

You thought about it, what if they did change the rule to let 22 year old girls compete? What would happen then? I'll tell you. A bunch of 23 year old girls and their husbands would be going nuts about how unfair that was. It would never end.

But still, we'll all miss old Billy.

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As the weeks went by Alicia more and more wanted to experiment aggressively with new forms of lovemaking. At first I was like, Yeah! With a wife as pretty as Alicia what husband wouldn't?

But then sometimes I was secretly selfish and resented the fact we did all this just for Pharaoh. And not even for him, but just some chance of him. What was the chance of getting to the program? What was the chance of winning on the program? Maybe 1 in 100, or 1 in 10,000, who knew? All this, not to make us happy but on a small chance of making him happy. It's not I didn't want to be confident too, but sometimes it pays to be realistic.

I tried to be a good husband even then. I had a good talk with myself about this kind of negativity. It hit me hard. I was ashamed and confessed my selfish feelings to Alicia. She was gentle and kind as we talked it out. She understood. She really did. We used it as a learning experience. She taught me a lot about unconscious racism and bias. Resenting black uppers, and especially a Pharaoh, was just racist, low class white anger. She called me out on it. I was practically crying cause I knew she was right. I had always thought I was such a good man, prided myself on it. Now I had to face the music. I apologized to her. She got some books and online lessons for me. I studied them and gave her another, more articulate, apology. We visited with Pastor Ninkovitch. He was gentle too and taught me and prayed with me. I apologized again.

Alicia forgave me. They never reported me to Security. What can I say? The Pastor is a great man; Alicia is my dream girl.

See I always knew how to deal with reality, one of my strengths. I opened my eyes after my confession and the reality was pretty darned good. Not just like fucking every single night good, but now experimenting with new fucks good. In those first three weeks we missed only four nights of lovemaking, two nights when Alicia had to go sit with Lisa, who was not doing well, and two for her period.

One night four weeks before WGPD I came from the shower ready to make love. There she was on the bed. Nude. On all fours. Her cunt pointed back towards me in the doorway. Holy...! I never.

I paused. Shocked. Flummoxed. In the seconds before she knew I was watching, my cock took flight. He was hard as a hickory stick and my balls were churning heavy cream.

She turned her head back to me. "Try it honey. Just for my training. I won't make you, but don't make me ask."

"But holy jimmy cricket honey. Is this right? Is it allowed?" Even though I was getting over my racism, I still had a duty to be respectful and cautious. For both our sakes..

Her eyes went through me. I knew the look. Hadn't she just told me not to ask?

So I climbed up behind her on the bed, studied up on how to approach this. These newfangled ways kind of throw me for a loop sometimes. I had to be careful of nosebleeds. But the dick won out. Her ass was magnificent in this position. But her knees were too close together or something. I touched her thigh and said, "Ummm..." She understood and her knees slid wider. But then her cunt was down too low for me. By instinct my hand went to the small of her back and I depressed gently. I said, "If you..." She understood and curved her back, dropped her shoulders to the sheets and buried her head in the pillow. Which popped her good place up higher. Right in line.

So then I fucked her and oh goodness but it was nice. See, the dick goes in horizontally and seems like it is sliding in deeper and deeper forever, a dick expanding and throbbing into a lovely, fragrant, clenching infinity, into places of which I had no prior knowledge. My hands rode softly on her hips. Her cunt grabbed hold of me and hot, wet, girl juices splashed from the walls, bathing me, suckling me, teasing me. Alicia pushed back on me hard and I bottomed out. I fucked and my surging balls slapped her undercarriage fast and hard. Wonderful. My body fizzed all over with pleasure, my nuts were singing; I screamed out "Alicia!" and after three strokes I came in her pussy quite a lot.

I checked and my nose was fine.

We rested, her breathing heavy but still soft and sweetly feminine. After a few minutes Alicia giggled and said, "It has a name."

"What does?" I was somewhat out of it.

"What we just did. It has a name."

"What?"

"Woof-woof."

"Woof-woof?"

"Yeah, woof-woof, like a dog."

"A dog?"

"Yeah."

"Woof-woof? Says who?"

"Says Briana."

"How's she know?"

"Some book."

I stopped and pondered. Could this be right? Could Briana really know things like this? What book? Anyone would be curious about that. I'm not aware of any books suitable for middles like us, like Briana too, that would have this sort of thing. Then I remembered her husband Draymond and I was like, "Oh." An upper.

I began to feel guilty. Even if Draymond had right to share information like this with his wife (which is not my business), there was no way it was appropriate for Bri to share it with Alicia or for Alicia to share it with me. It was so different, so weird. So inappropriate. Even if my wife was in training. Who had ever dreamt of making love this way where you don't even see the girl's face? Would my betters have approved?

"She says there are others too."

"Other what?"

"Other things like the one we just did."

"Goodness!" I tried to imagine. Found I could not. "Do they have names too?"

"Yeah."

I paused again, reached for her hand and gave a little squeeze. Maybe it wasn't right, maybe the uppers would kill me if they found out, but I needed to know. Badly.

Her tits seem to hold their shape even when she's flat on her back. Which is really something. The guys in the DR couldn't believe it either.

She needed more coaxing, so I just said, "Names like...?"

"Orange Julius."

"Orange Ju..."

"Crab Rangoon."

"Cr..." Trying to memorize as she went.

"The Eiffel Tower, Ferry Cross the Mersey, the Mongoose, Sweet Tea, Booya!, Aphrodite Walks Into A Bar. A few more."

"Wow...I mean like wowowowowowo." Made her giggle a lot, which is so nice. "She told you?"

"Yeah."

I asked, "Do we try those too?"

"I hope so, some of them. For training."

"When?'

Alicia looked down at my shrunken little weiner. He had just visited weiner heaven but now he was a little beat. Bet yours would have been beat too.

Alicia giggled and said, "Why don't you rest now and let Woodrow do the work."

"Huh?"

She was already stretched across the bed — lovely, lovely, lovely! ass, torso, breasts, face, hair, lovely! even a glimpse of the wet, matted soft hairs on her cunt, lovely!— and reached in the drawer for the dildo. She brought it out, presented it to me, and said, "Meet Woodrow. Another thing with a new name."

Alicia lay back on the pillow, spread her legs and motioned me down. I gulped once. I got to work.

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Today when I walked past the office for the Assistant Regional Sales Manager on my way to the copy machine, I saw Jason Blue in there. He was holding a tape measure. Jason motioned me in saying, "Take this end." He pointed, then, "Yeah, down in that corner, on the floor, hold it flat."

Jason unspooled the tape to the other corner and said, "18.5, not bad."

He had me go to the next corner and we measured the second dimension. "14 and three quarters and a bit more. Good."

He wound the tape back in and said, "Thanks for the help Jeff." He seemed to forget I was there and walked around the empty room, motioning and framing with his fingers and hands, trying to visualize. Then he noticed me again and ordered me out with his eyes and a little shake of the head.

After that I tried not to bother myself about it any more.

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We are a pretty conservative society, and we like it that way. The way our parents were, the way their parents were before them. All the way back to The New Founding in 2147. Makes things simple, fair, easy to follow for everyone. Everyone knows his place, knows what the rules are for staying out of trouble.

I mean our rules, the middle, because there have to be to be different rules for different levels. Common sense tells you that. For us in the middle, maybe not the uppers and the upper uppers, and maybe not the low down dirty classes, for us it is pretty clear what is right and what is not right. We like to stick to that.

In terms of sex the rules have always been very clear. There is (of course) no premarital intercourse or, as we called it, fucking. In fact there is no premarital anything beyond some friendly light kissing and maybe a little touch near but not on a girl's breast. We value our women and value their purity. Our own as well. It makes it better for everyone.

Better like it had been for Alicia and me on our first night together. It was our honeymoon in that little cottage in the Poconos. She was a just turned 19 virgin, I was a 24 year old who had made one horrible mistake in college with a girl I never should have gone near. It was a fantastic honeymoon. Way better than if we'd done something stupid before the wedding.

I had already confessed the slut to Alicia and to her parents. Amazingly, she forgave me then too, told me she could love me even with a stain on my soul. She is my dream girl. Of course, like any suitor, I was scared poopless of her Dad's reaction. Alicia, sweetie that she is, had already gone to bat for me, pleading with him to go easy on me, but I was still scared poopless.

He quizzed me closely that day, just two guys sitting across from one another in the den. The girls were in the kitchen stringing popcorn.

It started off well enough. We discussed the history of our town librarians, which ones were nice or not nice, and how a few had actually been pretty good looking. One or two of them were even bright.

"What'd she look like?" he asked.

"Which one Dad?"

"The slut."

"Oh, her. Ummm...I can't say. I barely remember it. I made a mistake, you know, it was Pharaoh-Wednesday, after I mean, and we both got a little overexcited I guess."

"No excuses son, no blaming Pharaoh for your own weakness."

"No Dad, you're right. I know you are."

"But you remember fucking?"

"Yes sir. I mean yes, Dad."

Dad was a stickler for the old ways and insisted on my calling him either Dad or Sir. Was fine but felt a little awkward, the Dad part I mean.

"What about her tits? What were they like?"

"I...I don't... well pretty big ones I think."

"hmmmm, figures," he said with a disapproving grimace.

"Yes sir. I mean yes, Dad," cause he was right. I had been attracted to her tits.

"Bigger than Mom's?"

"Sir?"

"Mom. Get with it. Bigger than Mrs. P's?"

This was a tricky one. In the end I stuttered out a "aah...I don't think so Dad."

I'd said the right thing. He smiled for the first time.

"And now you're going to be fucking my little girl?"

"Only with your permission, Dad. And Mrs. P's too, sir."

Alicia was almost 19 when we got engaged. She wouldn't strictly need parental permission to marry, but no way was I going there.

"Hmmm. My permission you mean."

"Yes Dad."

So it was settled. In the end he didn't report me to Security. He just made sure I took a bunch of shots and visited with Pastor Ninkovitch on it. Alicia had fixed it for me. She is my dream girl.

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The upper classes allow themselves somewhat more license than we get. Especially when the girl is of a lower class, or if she's drunk or leads the man on in some way. Or let's say there's a festival or holiday or cultural event, then of course they want to blow off a little steam with a girl. It makes sense what with all the pressures they face in terms of keeping society and the economy going and keeping us all fed and happy and employed and under control. My class still respectfully and quietly disapproves, but we also understand and accept it.

There is a little thing called Patriotism after all. Patriotism and Respect for our Betters, and for Doing as we are Told. We understand our Obligations.

See, rich people are smart and dumb people are poor. Which means that smart people get rich and poor people stay dumb and lazy. Hell, if I'd worked harder (much harder) or I'd been smarter (much, much smarter) then I have no doubt I would be one of the uppers myself. There are white uppers, even a few white upper uppers. So our betters getting a break on holidays is pretty much OK with us.

Take Sir Reginald. Reginald Quigley had been an undistinguished middle till he created the Black Pharaoh program. What happens? Only gets elevated to upper, gets knighted, gets rich, becomes one of the most famous people in the world. That's what. Smart man. A man to be respected, even if he is white.

Sir Reggie, as he was affectionately known, was reputed to have fucked over 300 of the girls vying for Pharaoh's bed. Not the winners of course, they were Pharaoh's property, but the most beautiful rejects. Not one of the girls ever spoke of it, they were that loyal to him. But his constant companion, Freddie Wiggle-Bottom, vouched for it and would regularly update the number to members of the press over gin and tonics poolside at Sir Reggie's mansion.

That, my friends, is what accomplishment looks like. And he never rested on his laurels, went on to invent the toothpick and the upside down bra. How's that for hard work and smarts?

Do the uppers deserve some breaks with our girls? I think so. I really do. Not that it matters what I think. It's reality.

Like it will be reality on White Girl Pride Day and like it is every Wednesday night for the Pharaoh. Something for the entire nation to rally around.