Chapter 3

The name’s Ouettecunte: Jack Ouettecunte. Now, I know what you’re thinking: that’s kind of a cunty name for a guy, isn’t it? I mean, how about something a bit more masculine, like “Jack Hammer”, or “Jack Screw”, or even “Jack McDickoff”?

Actually, I like to jack my dick off. But I hardly ever get a chance, because either Mum or Claire always does it for me. Tough, huh? The only time I get to stroke my own dick is when I’m at uni, where I’m studying for my “Higher National Diploma in Enlightenment Fuck Media Production Studies”. Yeah, it’s a bit of a mouthful: Mum tells me that in the Olden Days it was just called “porn” – but that they didn’t have uni courses in it then, so I need to just suck it up.

Anyway, so I spend all day watching fucking, filming fucking, directing fucking, editing fucking, even scripting fucking and storyboarding fucking – which gives me plenty of opportunity to jack off. That’s nice, because the moment I get home someone wants me to fuck them, or eat their cunt – which gets kinda tedious. Actually, I lie: Claire’s fucking brilliant at blowjobs. Mum’s not too bad, but she just tends to stick to slow deepthroating, like Dad likes it. But Claire – she does the whole brutal throat thing, you know, gagging and dry heaving and stuff, with spit and slime and snot and everything.

So, maybe life’s not so bad after all.

Anyway, today me and Claire are at the RAF – that’s the Royal Academy of Fucking, in London – and she’s just done her first audition item, which was a blowjob with cake. Though I say so myself, it was amazing: she’d made this huge cream cake, which we brought up on the train with us. And she kept jamming my cock in it so it would get coated with cream and icing and shit; then she’d suck the stuff off, so her face was total mess, and all the sponge and jam and hundreds and thousands kept dripping down onto her tits. And then of course, bit by bit, all her spit and snot and stuff wasn’t just her own slime but the cake’s as well, and ... well, it was just fucking amazing, that’s all I can say: the sort of blowjob you just can’t script.

OK, maybe I’m biased, because she’s my sister, but really, if they don’t accept her, well then, they’re just a bunch of dickheads. I mean, I know Claire’s throat isn’t exactly natural: Mum and Dad GM’ed it for her in vitro. Mum always wished she could suck cock like that, but they didn’t have Genetic Modification when she was in vitro, so I think she was determined Claire should have that opportunity. (Actually, now I think of it, was Mum ever in vitro? I wonder if in those days she got born the old-fashioned way, you know, out of someone’s cunt ... Creepy, huh? Waste of a good cunt, if you ask me... )

So, result: Dad and I get the best blowjobs in the world free of charge, whenever we like. We just have to put to put up with all the cake shit – but hey, am I complaining? Small price to pay, I reckon. I mean, really, if you had the prettiest blond deepthroat slut in the world wanting to swallow your dick, and the only drawback was a bit of wet-and-messy, would you object?

I should say: we actually came up to London yesterday so we could see the sights and fuck around a bit. I mean, the fuck scene in the capital is so much more lively than down in Little Dicking. Like, everywhere you look, people are fucking. Our first tourist stop was the London Asshole, which is like this big wheel just by the river. It’s got fucking pods and non-fucking pods: no prize for guessing which we went for. It was totally fucking squirting my cum into Claire’s cunt 150 yards up in the air! Then we visited Wankminster Abbey, where they were singing Evenschlong: the fucking was good, but I thought the music was boring. And in the evening we went to see a show called Wonka’s Willy and the Chocolate Fucktory – not exactly my style, but Claire adored it of course: tons of chocolate, tons of fucking, and tons of fucking chocolate – what more could a WAM slut like her want?

Anyway, back to the present. Before Claire’s second audition item, it’s interview time. I’m allowed to sit on a chair in the corner and watch, so long as I don’t interrupt. So I use the opportunity to wipe all the cake off my dick and balls, while Claire answers their questions.

I must admit, I wouldn’t like to have to go through this interview. I’m not great at making sense when I’m questioned about things and, to be honest, nor is Claire. She’s always said, who cares about the theory of fucking if you’re already a natural at actually fucking? Well, I kind of agree – but at a place like le Royale Académie de Feucquing (OK, I know that’s not proper French – but you get my meaning: this place is très très snob) you can’t really avoid all the philosophical Enlightenment bullshit. So ... good luck, Claire!

There are three people on the audition panel, sitting in a row at a small table at one end of the hall. (There’s also a large couch in front of the table, which I guess must be for any applicants who want to fuck lying down – but we obviously didn’t need that for my blowjob. Claire says blowjobs are best with the guy standing and the girl grovelling on her knees: who am I to disagree?) Anyway, there’s a young admissions secretary type who introduced herself as Anna: she’s a bit plump, with big natural tits which she likes to jiggle around at every opportunity, and a large pink quill pen with which she takes copious notes on everything. Then there’s a man, kind of smarmy and lanky with slick black hair, called Dr Richard Dick – but his colleagues seem to just call him Dick, or Dick-Dick. He has this really long cock with a bulging mushroom head, which he was stroking all the way through Claire’s blowjob, so presumably that means he liked it.

Finally, there’s Professor Cuntslicker – I think she’s the Principal of the Academy or something, because everybody seems in awe of her. Actually, I’m not surprised: she’s tall, really good-looking, with huge tits. But not MM or GM, like girls have these days: I think hers are “surgically enhanced” or something, like they used to do before the Enlightenment. My aunt Cecily has them: she’s let me suck on them a few times, in return for doing her weeding. They’re kinda weird, because they don’t really move like normal tits: they’re, like. stuck on, if you know what I mean. But hey, who cares, if you can still suck them and fuck them?

Anyway, believe it or not, the weirdest thing about Cuntslicker isn’t her tits, but her cock! Yeah, you read that right. OK, OK, it’s not actually her cock, I think it’s one of those new “auto-dildo” things I read about in What Dildo? magazine the other day. Apparently it kind of fits into her cunt, and looks and feels like a cock, and fucks like a cock – and even comes like a cock! Well, the Professor hasn’t used it for anything yet today – though I saw it going hard of its own accord while she was watching Claire’s blowjob, which I guess is a good sign.

OK, so now the interview seems to be starting. Shit, I hope Claire doesn’t embarrass herself...

“Well, Claire, thank you so much for that.” It is Dr Dick talking now. “That was a very impressive blowjob. Have you always enjoyed sucking cock?”

“Oh yes,” replies Claire, grinning. “My mom taught me. She was a great first teacher!”

Well done, Claire: you answered the question. Not particularly eloquent, but definitely sincere and enthusiastic. And great to stress the family connections: proves you’re a respectable, well brought-up slut.

But then it starts to go downhill. “So tell me then, Claire,” continues Dr Dick, “what do you think is likely to be the significance of blowjobs in building up Enlightenment-consciousness in British youth in the 2050s?”

Oh shit. That is just the sort of question Claire is hopeless at. Actually, I don’t understand a word of it myself. Nor does Claire. She looks like a dick caught in the headlights. She hesitates awkwardly, and mumbles something incomprehensible. Dr Dick tries again: “Let me rephrase the question, Claire. How do you think the development of blowjob technique over the last fifty years or so has reflected the societal changes wrought by the Enlightenment?”

“Um ... uh ... well yeah, Doctor Dick, I think blowjobs are really ... fucking ... I think...” Claire giggles nervously, barely concealing an embarrassed grimace.

Oh fuck. Dr Dick raises his eyebrows. “Could you elaborate on that, Miss Ouettecunte?” Oh shit: always a bad sign when your interviewer reverts to calling you by your surname. I sit there in the corner, trying in vain to work out what I would say in answer to the question – but really, if you can suck cock like Claire, who gives a flying fuck about the development of Enlightenment blowjob-consciousness, or whatever the fuck he was saying?

Claire seems to be thinking the same thing as me – but thankfully she decides to play to her strengths. Instead of attempting to bullshit the bullshit, she says, “Yes, Doctor Dick, I think I can elaborate on that,” before slipping off her chair onto her knees, and disappearing under the interviewers’ table. From where I am sitting, I can’t see what she is doing, but Dr Dick’s delighted gasp gives me a good indication.