Chapter 23

“Sharl, I intend to fuck you all just as I do now, for many years to come, and for many children to come as well, if we can manage that. Fine by you?”

“Fine by all of us, Jimmy. I expect Marjory will go along with that scheme of things, including children, if I am any judge of her inclinations.”

We arrived back at the lounge, and a naked Marjory was sitting on the couch, ankles crossed self-consciously, arms across her breasts, and her face flaming red with embarassment, while she was surrounded by a bunch of naked women all younger than herself and totally unself-conscious of their nudity. I thought that it was an age matter, so I moved over to her, taking her hands and overcoming her desire to hide, spreading them, saying, “You look lovely, Marjory, not a day over twenty-one!”

I pulled her to her feet as she stared at my waggling penis. I diverted her by admiring her boobs.

“Hey, Marjory, these are magnificent breasts! I love your prominent nipples; they look great!”

She tensed, wanting to cover them, but I held her hands tight away from her body.

“You have nothing that needs hiding, Marjory. Be proud of your charms, my girl!”

She slowly gave in to me, and began to push out her mammaries in response to my encouragement.

“Like this, Jimmy? I feel embarassed at being exposed.”

“That’s it, Marjory. My other girls love to show off their lovely bodies to me, and you should, too. I love playing with their boobs and nipples. I love fondling female bums as well, you will find.

In our home we rejoice in what we have, and Sharl, Cherry and Charlotte have their tiny baby bumps as an extra to put on show. Lily and Flora are jealous; they want to have baby bumps showing before long, if that comes about. Would you like one as well?”

“A baby?”

“A baby bump to start with, and six or seven months after that, a baby. Does that appeal to you?”

She reached for my penis and held it tight. “I think so, if I am a wife. You will use this organ on me, to make me pregnant?”

“It is the only organ of mine that can do it, Marjory. You really have no experience with a man?”

“None. My mother was very protective of me; wouldn’t let me go out with a boy, and I was afraid to do anything with a boy at school in case it got back to my mother; schoolkids talk! I have no sexual experience with a boy, or a man, at all, Jimmy.”

She released my todger as she went into a sad recollection mode.

I asked, “So my kissing and fondling of your breasts this morning; that was all a first for you?”

“Yes. That was why I reacted so strongly and didn’t resist you. I didn’t know what I should do or could do; not that I wanted to resist you in any case. It was all a new and interesting and exciting experience. You could have done anything with me in your office if you had wanted, Jimmy.”

“Now she tells me! No, I stopped because we both had work to get done. Fucking on the firm’s time is not excusable, so even though I would have loved to take it farther, I couldn’t. Now here, at home, we can push ahead as soon as you want to, but first of all, we have to eat the meal our girls have prepared. They tell me it is rabbit fricassee, from your recipe collection.”

“Oh! Yes, it is. I showed Sharl my book of collected recipes last night. She is using it already?”

“She was very pleased to do so, to make you feel at home with us. She is a great homemaker, a great wife, and will be a great mother. I am looking forward to you being the same.

Now, ignore the fact that you have no clothes on; you are the same as me and the others, that is all. Think of it in that way: we are all the same here. In half an hour you will forget you are naked and treat it as perfectly normal. For us, it is normal. No-one will say a word about it, for you will be dressed identically to the rest of us; au naturelle.”

Marjory’s desire to find out what Sharl and the others had done with her recipe got the better of her, and she walked into the kitchen to ask questions about any variation they had made. She came back out five minutes later, carrying plates for the dining room. She had been dragooned into becoming part of the team, it seemed. She certainly had a pleasant smile on her face as she passed me, but avoided looking at my crotch area.

I sat down at my regular place, ready to eat when it was ready, and in a moment Lily was there with a glass of sherry to stimulate my appetite, as she said. I told her that her very presence whetted my appetite, and she giggled delightfully.

“You sure know how to tease a girl, Jimmy,” she told me, and turned away with a swing of her hips to remind me of her lovely ass. I have many lovely asses around the house, I reflected happily.

The meal was unusual, but tasty. I could manage rabbit again, if cooked this way, so I said so.

“Girls, Marjory, that was phenomenol! Very tasty, and a filling meal. There seemed to be a lot of vegetables in the fricassee. Is that standard?”

Marjory told me, “Pretty well standard, though you can use different meats and a variety of vegetables; fricassee is versatile that way.”

“You feel pretty comfortable, eh?”

“Yes, why?”

“You have forgotten you are naked, my dear, just like I promised. You are fitting in to our way of life.”

She looked startled, then looked down, then looked around her, as if discovering for the first time that everyone was unclothed. Recognising reality, she relaxed, saying, “Does this mean that I get fucked today along with your other wives, Jimmy?”

“If you want to, my lovely woman; and it is ‘made love to’ now, within our family.”

Sharl interjected, “Then you must be first tonight, Marjory. Jimmy, take Marjory to your bedroom and show her how she can love her man and love her life, and make her first attempt at pregnancy.”

Marjory retorted, “You can’t get pregnant the first time, Sharlene; everyone knows that!”

“Pardon? Who told you that?” Sharl enquired solicitously.

“It was a boy at school, years ago, who was trying to get me to go with him into the bushes.”

Sharl told her, “The first thing to learn about boys, Marjory, is that they will tell you any sort of untruth to get into your panties. You might very well get pregnant the first time you let a boy fuck you, and then you are really fucked!”

Marjory exclaimed, “Oh! Just as well I always said no,” then she continued, “So you might make me pregnant tonight, Jimmy?”

“We can do our best to attempt that, Marjory, provided you are willing to go along with it.”

Marjory stared into my eyes.

“I can’t wait for ever for that to happen, so the sooner the better. I would love to have a baby boy or baby girl.”

I grinned.

“Then let’s aim for both. Any twins in your family tree?”

“Not that I am aware, my love.”

“Then we may have to make a single baby, then make the other in a couple of years. That is going to take quite a while to finally get where you want to be!”

“I am in no hurry to leave you again, Jimmy.” All the others grinned in agreement.

So we moved to my bedroom, where we could start exploring our bodies with no restrictions. An hour later, I had learned that Marjory was rather noisy at times with her discoveries, but happy with her new-found sexual knowledge.

It was nearly an hour and a half later when Charlotte opened the door and asked, “When can I get a bit of loving? You can’t hang on to him all the time, Marjory, even if it your first time with Jimmy.”

A satisfied Marjory said to her quite brazenly, “You can have him now, Charlotte; I think I am fucked out! Just think: I am no longer a virgin! I don’t need him again until tomorrow, but I want more of this. What do I do now?”

“Uh, the usual procedure is you move out of the room, and I move in. You have your bed waiting for you in your shared bedroom, Mrs Hargreaves.”

“Oh, yes, I am Mrs Hargreaves now, or at least one of them. Imagine: me, a Mrs!”

“So, ready to change over, Marjory?”

“If that is the practice, I can go ahead with it. Sometime, can I sleep the night with Jimmy?” she begged.

“The usual practice is: last girl with him stays the night, so you will get your turn, Marjory.”

Marjory succumbed to the family practice, and abandoned her new lover to another of my wives.

Having slept the night in our home, Marjory and I went to work in my car. She was apprehensive about what others might say.

“Marjory, until we make your position fully permanent, I am giving you a lift to work, okay?”

“Oh. Yes. So I can’t say anything about you being my husband now?”

“Not yet, but it won’t be long. I have to bring a couple of fathers into the knowledge base before we make it public.”

“Fathers? But my father is dead.”

“Not your father, Marjory. The fathers of my other wives, so these gentlemen don’t get a shock later.”

She nodded her comprehension.

Marjory entered the company’s offices while I attended to closing and locking the car, and she was soon at her post in reception, but other girls noticed there was something different about her. She had a confidence and a happy glow about her. One of the other girls asked her, “What have you been up to, Madge? You have changed since yesterday; I can see it., a change for the better. You look happy, girl; really happy.”

“You think so, and you are right, but I can’t tell you anything about it yet, Jean. Perhaps in a few days.”

In my own office, I was looking for responses from my designated computer experts in the company. I guessed that I knew as much as any of them, but wanted to see how savvy they were in relation to business use of computers.

None of them had any report ready for me, but I took that as a good sign. It implied they were checking their facts before they committed themselves in writing. It gave me a chance to resume my perambulation of the company’s departments. It occurred to me that despatch was one of the last sections likely to be considered for upgrading, so to me that meant, why not?

I took myself to the loading bay, and simply stood and watched what was going on. It appeared that somewhere else the picking and packing of a shipment was prepared, complete with delivery label. That appeared fairly normal, and was followed by the delivery drivers picking up the package, large or small, and stacking it into the appropriate delivery van. The drivers sat down again, waiting for the next package. I found myself a handy chair, and sat down to observe. I had an idea of what was happening, but wanted to see if my assumption was accurate.

I was there for an hour or so before I was sure of myself. There was no advance warning of deliveries. The men waited until there was enough in their wagon to merit a delivery round, and then set off. The deliveries could start in half an hour or three hours, depending on the arrival of wrapped packages. Or boxes, as it sometimes was.

There was no organised structure to the delivery schedule, as the drivers had no idea what was coming their way and when. I walked back inside and found the warehouse where the deliveries were prepared.

Within a couple of minutes, I was challenged by the warehouse supervisor as to who I was and what I was doing there. Security was tight, as it should be, with huge amounts of stock piled up.

I gave my name and explained I was a new senior member of staff, trying to get my head round everything that was done in the company. The man smiled, and responded, “There is a lot going on, and it is not always easy to follow the way it works, Mr Hargreaves. How can I help you?”

“I can see you pack up each delivery and label it for the drivers. Do you get advance notice of what is coming your way, to make it simpler for you to get started on picking the items for each package?”

He frowned. “No, sir. It can be an entire package of one item, but not always. Someone brings an order for a package to a client, and leaves it with us. We then start picking the items to the quantity required, and work out the size of cardboard box or wooden crate that is needed to ensure safe delivery without breakages. Then we package it up, with protection round individual breakables, seal it and label it for the client.”

“Hmm. Do you get these orders one at a time, or do you get told how many orders for which clients there will be this morning, so you can allocate delivery vans? I am sure each van has a specified delivery route.”

“Yes, the vans do have regular routes, sir, but no; the orders come at random times, depending on how quickly the sales department can process them.”

I voiced an opinion. “Surely if you were told all the clients who were getting an order compiled this morning, you would know the delivery sites and that would allow you to have your vans allocated. You could have all the package details marked as to which run, which van, they should go on? And if the order being agreed with the client was copied to you in advance, you could start picking and packing in plenty of time?”

“Yes, sir, but how could they do that? And certain packages go to national carriers for sending onward for distant deliveries.”

“If the order was being compiled on a computer, you could have a copy sent to a printer in this department. If there was any variation, such as a correction to numbers, a printout of the correction would allow you to make the change at once.”

“Sounds fine in theory, sir, but we don’t have a printer in here, and I don’t think the sales department have a computer system such as you mention. The orders come to us handwritten.”

“Handwritten? Good grief!”

“Good grief indeed, sir. If the system was as you describe, we could have deliveries setting out an hour earlier than we do now, and save our drivers hanging around for so long.”

“Excellent. I’ll see what I can do about rectifying the situation.”

“Thank you, Mr Hargreaves, sir.”

When I got back to my office, I rang the sales department and asked to speak to the one who knew about computers. When he came on the line, I told him that I wanted the computer system to be able to print out in the warehouse the orders being prepared for the day’s deliveries, and additonal printouts if there were any last minute alterations. He soon saw the point to my suggestion, and promised to amend his report to include a printer in the warehouse, connected to the computer(s) in sales.

That settled, it was getting close to lunchtime, so I walked to Reception and asked Marjory what her lunchtime was. She blushed and looked around before saying, “In ten minutes, if you can wait that long, Mr Hargreaves.” There she went again, using words with sexy connotations as if she was unaware of her innuendos. Perhaps she was.

“In that case, I will return in ten minutes and we can go to the canteen together, Marjory.” I looked at her colleagues hanging around reception and informed them, “She prefers Marjory to Madge, girls. Time to change what you call her.”

The women listened to what I demanded, and nodded their acceptance.

I went back to my office to do some tidying up before getting back to reception. There, Marjory was ready, handbag in hand.

“I’m ready, Mr Hargreaves.”

“Marjory, please call me Jimmy when we are on lunch break. This is our personal time, having lunch together.”

We joined the queue in the canteen, as if we were just friends getting together for lunch. At first, no-one noticed us being together, but I started to hear some whispering about ‘Madge’ sitting with Mr Hargreaves. I ignored it, and we sat, ate and chatted about likes and dislikes. We made no reference to our deeper connection, and when she finally noticed the time and reminded me she had to get back to work, I apologised for monopolising her time.

I escorted her back to reception and said farewell, lifting and kissing the back of her hand as I did so. There was a gasp from the only other girl there, and I left.

Back at the office, I phoned through to Mr Emerson’s secretary, and asked for an appointment with him at his convenience. She told me he was clear soon, as he had an hour before his next appointment. I rushed to my car and hurried back to our home company in time for her to announce me.

Once inside, I told him, “This is family stuff, Mr Emerson.” I came right out with it.

“My wives the other night invited Marjory, the senior girl at Copies reception desk, to join our marriage. I had taken her home as she was seeking advice from your daughters, but they spotted that she needed me, they said, and they, the little minxes, told her she could join us if she wanted. She said yes to them, and I was told to formally ask her to marry us. She said yes, again.

I thought I should inform you and Chairman Yeats before we made anything public.”

“Eh? They wanted you to have another wife? Don’t you have enough, Jimmy?”

“That’s what I thought, sir, but they felt differently. I went along with their wishes, as I tend to do, but asked them not to do this again.”