Spermophilia

I had a nice little fuck with C in the morning, snatched while the cleaner was at work in another room. C was still in her nightgown, I was already dressed to leave for the office, so I unbuckled, unzipped, and fucked her with my pants around my knees. She, efficient as ever, came promptly. I left my own status vague; that is, I gasped 'Yes' a couple of times, in a manner that could be interpreted either as encouragement - 'Yes, come!' - or announcement - 'Yes, I'm coming!' - or both. I stayed hard, I certainly had not come, but C seemed quite content for me to withdraw, upzip, rebuckle. And I was content - I was more than content - myself. I had felt C coming around my cock at the start of the day, but I had reserved my seed for D, who I was set to meet later.

I like fucking but not coming, though I do not do it very often. It makes me feel useful and unselfish. It redresses one imbalance between the genders: all the data suggests that it is women who do nearly all of the fucking but not coming. Most of all, I like coming when it really counts - when the seed I spill gets, if not top billing, at least a line to itself.

C, even before she began using lubricants to counter post-menopausal dryness, was a woman whose instinct - perhaps not her first instinct, but definitely her second or third - is to wipe up after sex. I enjoy watching her pluck some item from the laundry-basket - her black underwear, or my white, or whatever comes to hand - with which to wipe her cunt, sopping up the lube and the juice and the seed. I have been known to dig these items out of the basket later on and sniff at them. But there is nevertheless a repudiation in this wiping-up: why doesn't she dabble around inside herself with her fingers and lick them clean afterwards? Why not sit on my face and drip the mix of my seed and her cunt-juice into my mouth, as D loves to do? Why not spend the next few minutes, or hours, leaking here and there about the house? The Astroglide now provides an excuse, but C was not much inclined to these things even before she began using artificial slickeners. She does not find semen distasteful, but neither does she love it; she is neither spermophobe nor spermophile. Seed is not wasted on her, exactly - but neither does it do for her what it does for others.

With D, later, in my office, I came twice. The first time was at the climax of a long, long fuck, one that began with me on top on the floor; continued with her on top, still on the floor; moved then to the desk; and finally moved back to the floor, again with me on top. With a couple of pints of beer and a countermanding nibble of Viagra in my system, I was able to drive gradually and steadily through D's series of orgasms up to a long, stretched-out orgasm of my own. The first spurt, coming at the deep end of a long thrust, triggered those rhythmic, clamping cunt-spasms that seem designed by nature to milk a cock dry. With those spasms dying away, I kept fucking, easing seed out of myself and into her. D's cunt was awash - splashy and warm - so there was no hesitation about what to do next: I climbed off and lay down, and D immediately sat on my face, feeding me my seed along with her cunt-juice.

After a while, and partly because her knees were chafing on the harsh office carpeting, D moved to the red office chair, where I continued to eat her out. After she came a few times, I wanted to feel her cunt with my cock again, wanted to come again myself. I was only half-hard, but after D has come many times and is wet and open, I can usually slip inside her and then fuck myself hard. This time, though, the beer had the better of the Viagra. After some delightful but directionless fucking, and with the clock ticking, we opted instead for a classic money-shot: I stood while D sat in the chair and jerked me off until I came, spurting seed in her hair, on her cheek, and on the wall behind her.

D hates to clean up after sex. She likes the clumps of seed in her hair, the film of come dried on her face or her tits. She enjoys leaking from her cunt or her ass as she drives home. If she could wipe herself with something from the dirty laundry, she would be likely then to put it on. Perhaps she delights in my seed in part because I cannot. I have to clean up. I cannot go home smeared with cunt-juice and come. She has an oblivious husband rather than a suspicious wife, and so can do what she likes.

Porn, working only with sight and sound, and geared mainly to an audience of guys jerking off, treats male ejaculation as a visual climax. Often, the man stops fucking, pulls out and then brings himself off, coming on the woman's breasts or belly or face. This gives semen a prominent place, and I am all for that, but something is awry. Who, except when re-enacting porn, fucks like that? But then, who would watch porn in which, after an invisible ejaculation, the woman nimbly hops out of bed and goes directly to clean up?