Author: Sterling Title: The Father of Humanity Summary: The world mourns a fertility crisis: No baby has been conceived in twelve years. Then one average teenage boy is discovered who can father children. From slow and romantic beginnings, his sex life gradually takes off to try to meet the world demand. Keywords: MF mf cons rom het ScFi harem poly 1st preg slow NOTICE: This story contains explicit sex. First posted 12/28/2009, new header added 8/26/2010. I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com. I have written many other stories and they can all be found at /files/Authors/Sterling/ You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text unchanged, including this notice. If you tell me where you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it. Sterling And now, our feature presentation. Enjoy! ================================================================== The Father of Humanity I slowly woke. She was snuggled up against my side, her hair a bit disheveled, breathing softly. It was still dark out. Delphia's smell was delicious, her sweetest charm. I felt the glow spread between my legs as my penis got harder with each pulse of blood. Still half awake, I turned on my side to face her. She stirred a little and opened a sleepy eye. I lifted her top leg a little and she wriggled a little to adjust, so as I pressed my pelvis upwards, my penis slid right into her warm, wet, silky vagina. It felt like heaven. I pumped about ten times, faster each time, and felt my semen shoot into her as a pleasant, sleepy orgasm took over my brain. I stayed pressed inside for a few more seconds, watching her smile at me sleepily, and then slid out and onto my back. She kissed me briefly on the nose as she got up and padded to the bathroom. I heard the brief, gentle whirring hum as I drifted back to sleep. When I woke next, it was light. Kathy was the woman beside me now, dozing, but she awoke easily. She was naked, and had about as perfect a body as I could imagine. I kissed her and brushed my hand along her cheek, down over her right breast, through the curve of her belly to her pubic mound, and sliding over the top I massaged her labia gently, my penis hardening. Her breath caught and she flushed a little and she smiled. In all of ten seconds she grew restless, spreading her legs wide apart, but I teased her a little. I kept rubbing slowly instead of rolling on top of her. Her breathing conveyed desire and readiness, and as the seconds went on she stuck out her tongue at me. Then I laughed and rolled over on top of her and as I pressed forward and down her fingers guided my penis into her again. I thrust about four times and she cried out softly with an orgasm. I could feel her vagina pulsing. I kept thrusting, and after a minute she shuddered as another one came over her. I started thrusting more urgently, and as I pressed in as far as I could go, I shuddered too as I came way up inside her, and she came too. I collapsed on top of her, feeling lazy. My weight wasn't really on her, but after ten seconds she started gently trying to get out from under me. I raised my head to look at her and sighed, though we both smiled. So I rolled off as she got up and went into the bathroom. That whirring hum again as I dozed off. When I came to after a few minutes she was gone. I took a few steps to the bathroom, and after my morning urination looked in the mirror. My name is John Smith. I look about fifty, an average man with an average man's body. I lifted my penis to look at the scrotum underneath, with two ordinary-looking testicles hanging innocently within. Ordinary-looking, but the very future of the human race. On the counter was the device. It consisted of a handle and at right angles to it a smooth plastic cylinder with rounded end, about the width and length of a small penis, with small openings all along it. Protruding from the spot where the handle met the cylinder was a glass vial about the size and shape of a C cell battery. Many empty vials stood on the counter. My eyes drifted to the wall, where there was a trough with a glass cover. I took out the empty glass vial and put it in the trough. When I closed the cover, there was a barely detectable whooshing sound as the vial disappeared. During the night, as I was drifting off to sleep to the sound of the quiet whirring, Delphia had put the cylinder up in her vagina, where it gently collected the fluid from inside her. She had then removed the vial with its little blob of milky liquid and put it into the wall. Kathy did the same thing a little later. My semen was on its journey to replenishing humanity. --------------- The beginning I was only two years old when it happened. Human reproduction ceased; women no longer became pregnant. Pre-natal clinics noticed it first, as there were no new appointments being made, and within a few months its worldwide scope became clear. Scientists found that the problem was at the moment of fertilization. They put together in a petri dish donor eggs, looking just as usual, and sperm, looking and acting just as usual. The sperm swam vigorously and pressed against the egg, but they just never penetrated it. Everyone hoped at first that it was a passing curiosity, that science would understand it and fix it. But as time passed and those hopes were not realized, a profound unease set in. Life continued much as it had before -- what else could people do? Church attendance was up. Plenty of righteous preachers swore it was vengeance from God for sinful living, though there was little chance to feel superior, as all groups were affected. Attitudes towards sex softened. Many people hoped that they might be a part of solving the worldwide infertility problem. Everyone stopped using contraception. Established couples stepped up their sexual activity. Single people began sleeping with each other with less caution. Gay men and lesbians discovered latent bisexual tendencies. Teenagers became more active, and children who had barely begun puberty started experimenting as a matter of course. There were epidemics of STDs which dampened enthusiasm to some extent. A new kind of condom was developed with a hole in the end to let semen out instead of keeping it in. This did little to protect the woman, but it did protect the man quite well, and as fewer and fewer men were infected women got fewer infections from them. The only source of new babies was the embryos that had been set aside for later implantation as part of fertility procedures. There were several thousand of them in the US. The government seized them. They would now be implanted in the most fertile women available, to maximize the chances of success. It was a matter of vigorous debate just how fast to use them. They did deteriorate with time, but the later in the future these babies were born, the greater the chance they could still be fertile if a cure was found in the future. I lived with my parents and an older brother in Secaucus, New Jersey. I started going out with Amy when we were both fifteen. We were both shy, neither particularly popular, and we got a late start on sex. Our dates featured some talking and walks, but it was the end of the evening I was really looking forward to. The first date ended with a kiss. She invited me to her room on the second date, but that did not end with going all the way. She was happy for me to fondle her breasts, but activity below the waist was limited to the outside of her jeans. On the third date she took her jeans off, and I was terribly excited putting my hand down the front of her panties. She was clearly excited -- as for me, I got an erection each time as we were walking up the stairs to her room and never lost it in the hour we were making out. On the fourth date she was ready for intercourse, though as virgins we were a bit clueless. The tip of my penis got into her hot and wet labial region, and I started penetrating her, but it didn't go very far in. In fact I came within about twenty seconds of trying. After consulting some books before the next date, Amy realized she needed to tilt her pelvis up more so the angles were right, and then my penis slid in all the way, to my great relief. I knew girls took longer to come, so I was proud of myself for holding back so gallantly for a full two minutes, by which time surely she had had a quiet little orgasm, but of course I found out later that she hadn't. I was ecstatic at having gone all the way, achieving what I had been craving for years. After consulting more books and friends, she taught me how to stimulate her with my hand, and hold back for a full ten minutes so she did come, and I then let myself go and came within a minute. We had been exclusive from the start -- it was hard enough for me to get up the courage to ask out even one girl. For a few weeks we met every evening for sex, but then the reality of other commitments started intervening and we limited ourselves to weekends and an occasional evening. I soon started sleeping over at her house, which was common enough and not a source of particular concern to her parents. When her period came we abstained. She missed a period three months later, and then missed another. She started feeling sick to her stomach. We didn't think much of it, but just in case she went to the doctor to see what sort of ailment she had. Pregnancy was not on anyone's mind, since it was in the category of a disease that had been eradicated -- a dozen years before in this case. The treatment plan for the time being was to wait and see. She missed another, and started getting hungry, and started feeling irregular twitching in her intestines. This called for more careful ultrasound, and the results were stunning. A human fetus was distinctly visible, and it moved, which was the twitching Amy felt. A dozen specialists examined her, but the diagnosis when you see a baby is not really so hard to make. She was pregnant. From the beginning of the missed periods we had kept quiet about this, Amy especially wanting to avoid jokes at her expense at whatever weird condition she had. As soon as her condition was confirmed, we were given discreet Secret Service protection, and all agreed that our privacy was easier to assure if our identities remained unknown. Her mother's job mysteriously transferred her to Stamford, Connecticut. We were too bewildered to object much to being separated, especially as her interest in sex had disappeared and that was frankly the main bond we had. Once Amy delivered her baby, she would be further tested and go through many variants of the egg donor procedure to see if she was the key to this miracle. But my potential could be evaluated much more quickly. I provided a semen sample, and when mixed with donor eggs it produced some embryos. They were implanted in carefully-selected women. Some of them became pregnant. A brief statement was released saying that three pregnancies had been achieved in the US from the sperm of a single man whose identity was being kept secret. The brief announcement translated into screaming headlines and tumult worldwide. It provided a much-needed sense of hope to a world which had not seen a newborn baby in a dozen years. My family was whisked off to Langley, Virginia. I basically never left the house we occupied; actually it was more a compound than a house. A large and shifting bunch of people were assigned to help me, and I thought of them collectively as "the pros". I was grappling with what this new role meant for me and for the world. I happily provided semen samples, usually twice a day. This was masturbation with a noble purpose. The doctors made the most of the fluid I produced. Hundreds of donor eggs were placed in a single small jar, and my semen set loose among them. Soon my sperm was making two hundred embryos in a day, which were carefully divided and implanted in two hundred young women of peak fertility each day. This was not going to solve the huge demographic dislocation facing the world, but it was a start. My father's and brother's semen was tested, as was that of more distant male relatives. No embryos emerged now matter how many gobs of their semen were put in with jars of eggs. I was it. Amy was given lavish incentives later to have a great many partners, on the chance that it was something about her that had triggered my fertility and that she might trigger one of them, but nothing came of that. Then slowly my fertility started dropping. I produced just as many sperm as before, all as apparently healthy as before, but they just weren't doing the job. The number, density, and quality of my sperm cells were not relevant measures of success. What mattered was the number of embryos emerging from a controlled sample of eggs and semen. Various drugs were tried, to no avail, and whenever there was an unpleasant side effect, my fertility dropped to zero. Humanity figuratively worshiped at my feet, which made me happy but also gave a great sense of responsibility. As my effectiveness was dropping, I felt uneasy and couldn't always provide the semen samples on demand. The future of the world was me, and I was failing. The pros stopped telling me how effective I was being, hoping that might help, but it didn't. They then tried lying to me, saying things were great, but the power of positive thinking didn't help in this case. When this subterfuge later came out, I was quite upset and the embryo count also dropped to zero for a while. They promised they would not lie to me again, and naïve as I was at the time I believed them. My effectiveness returned to its previous anemic levels and continued a gradual decline. I was offered just about anything on earth that I wanted. First I wanted Amy back. So she flew in to live with us in the sprawling quarters my family and associated professionals were now occupying. She was just a little in awe of me. She was part of the magic first pregnancy, but I was the special one, or at least the one who had been shown to be special. She would do anything I asked, but my tastes were pretty simple. I loved sex. Penis-in-vagina sex. She was quite far along, and we couldn't have sex very well face-to-face over her large belly, but I could mount her from the rear, doggy style. I found that very exciting at first. My fertility from the semen samples had a large spike, back almost to its peak. Although I was delivering lots of my sperm into Amy, I had quite a bit left over for samples. But as hard as I was trying to give Amy pleasure and do things the way she wanted, and as hard as she was trying to be OK about it, I could sense that at some level she really wasn't. Her best attempts to lie turned me off. I also had to admit that there were some things that annoyed me about Amy, that we were not going to live happily ever after. My fertility went way down. We parted on good terms, and we expressed our genuine affection and gratitude for what we had had together. After I stopped seeing Amy my fertility started to rise again, but to nowhere near its peak, and then it started sliding. I was offered any type or combination of sexual partners I wanted to replace Amy, but I didn't feel right about that way back then. I was very romantic, and I wasn't over Amy yet. What else? I met a few of my favorite pro athletes, but found I really didn't have much to say to them, nor they to me. I thought of having a couple friends come to visit, but they told me that the secrecy of my identity was holding and no one in Secaucus knew it was me. So any friend I brought in would be unable to leave, at least as long as my identity remained secret. It was going to be hard to relax and be spontaneous anyway, and that would make it impossible. I took a vacation in Hawaii, which was nice. Chefs from five star restaurants were brought in to cook for me, and some of it was certainly good. But I didn't have a particularly discriminating palate, so to exaggerate just a bit it ended up that my steak and potatoes was mostly just very high quality steak and potatoes. I wanted to stop living with my family. The pros promptly relegated them to a distant part of the complex, and said it was their decision which I had grudgingly gone along with, so I didn't have to own up to it. Various of these things helped a little, for a while. We all suspected that my sex life would be key to this, and the question was what might allow me most quickly to get over Amy and on with my life (and, incidentally, saving the world). ------------- Winnie From the beginning the pros had made discreet inquiries about all aspects of my life in their attempt to replicate whatever my formula was for success. Now, with an eye to getting my sex life going again, they mentioned the names of three girls in my class, the last of whom was Winnie. I admitted that I had had a bad crush on Winnie but she had given me the cold shoulder. I told them that if she was approached on my behalf I would feel so humiliated I would probably never produce another viable sperm cell again. You can't buy love, and I didn't want a whore. But among the pros were experts on the psychology of high school students, and they had a plan I grudgingly went along with. First they found a few of the cool guys who really had respected me, though to them I was just a random guy who had moved away six months before. Through means I didn't quite understand their respect was conveyed to Winnie in a way she found natural and genuine. A "new girl" in the school befriended Winnie and somehow elicited what was to me the crucial information: Winnie did feel moderately positive about me. Remembering me only as a kid who had recently moved away, with no idea I was the most important man on earth, she felt moderately positive about me. I saw it on video, and it set my mind at ease. That's when the pros moved in: "Say, Winnie, how do you feel about moving to Washington to see what you can do to cheer up the most important person on earth? No pressure, no pressure, though yes, well, the survival of the human race might depend on your decision." I met Winnie in the living room of my personal quarters. She wasn't the kind of person to be in awe of anybody, no matter how famous. She offered me a hug right away, which I eagerly accepted, and neither of us let go right away. I reached down to let my penis assume the upright position it was straining for -- hey, my role had sunk in enough that I wasn't ashamed of erections. She didn't pretend not to notice, but laughed. And after a moment, she said, Well, why wait, and led me by the hand to the bedroom. All the power of my crush was surging back to me, and I was nervous and excited. She was pretty experienced by then, so she was playful and I relaxed some. We kissed, we hugged, we shed one item of clothing at a time, I sucked her nipples, I massaged her labia the way I had learned to do with Amy, and Winnie matter-of-factly showed me how to stroke her clitoris a little more directly. Before long she was nudging me to get on top of her. So I turned over, kneeling down below her. I looked at her dark brown hair, her shoulders and delicate arms, her beautifully proportioned breasts, her ribcage and then the dip to her stomach, and the natural transition up to her public mound, covered with a modest amount of dark hair, then I looked down to where her outer labia were parted slightly, and as I watched she reached down to part those labia more, revealing the inner set, the whole area glistening. I started leaning over to guide my penis into her, then I looked up and saw her face, looking earnest and hungry, and also smiling a little, the gorgeous face I had gazed at for years, the one I had imagined countless times while masturbating. And just then a little blob of semen arched up over her body and hit her on the upper lip, then a bigger spurt landed between her breasts, and another one landed and started sliding into her bellybutton. I was nearly fainting from the intensity of the orgasm, and from mortification. She was startled and a little flustered. But then she said, "Well, I guess you do find me sexy!". As she started to speak the semen on her lip stretched to her lower lip so she had a little strand of it across her mouth. When she realized that, she stuck out her tongue and said with a smile, "It tastes just like ordinary sperm made by ordinary guys". But I collapsed onto my left side and she could tell I was feeling embarrassed and humiliated. She started to roll over to comfort me, but the sperm started running off her, so she stopped, and after a brief scan found the box of tissues beside the bed, and took ten of them to clean herself off. She reached over to hug me and rocked me gently. "I have absolutely no doubt your aim will improve". I started to feel better. In ten minutes she started to lightly stroke my flaccid penis, and it responded. We were facing each other, lying on our sides. As it got almost fully hard, she shifted just a little on the bed and slid my penis into her before I knew what she was doing. "Caught you this time!" she said. I thought that was funny. She moved her pelvis so I was going in and out of her a little, but I picked up the rhythm and started thrusting in earnest. And then I pushed her onto her back as I rolled on top of her. And I pumped, slowly at times, faster at others, up to the hilt. After ten minutes she had her own modest orgasm, and, happy to have lasted long enough, I let myself go. I thrust harder and deeper ten more times and came myself in a wave of happiness way beyond the mere pleasure of orgasm, spurting the little blob of semen up into her vagina, Winnie's vagina, as I had dreamed of doing so many times. We showered, ate, talked, and got to know each other for real. We had sex again and slept. I woke in the middle of the night and caressed her and she started responding positively. Half asleep, I found her vagina and pressed into it, coming a few strokes later. She just laughed a little at that. She was hardly sexually frustrated, so a quickie now and then was not going to be a problem. We had sex in the morning. From the rear. With her on top. Standing up. Sitting down. Mid-morning. Mid-afternoon. Two days, three days. She was having big orgasms now every time. But after three days she also admitted she was getting a little sore and maybe we should slow down a little. This was OK, because the pros were giving hints, gentle at first and less subtle as the days went by, that they would appreciate a semen sample. The sample I gave wasn't all that much liquid, since my body seemed to be conserving the stuff for more alluring pastures, but the result was off the chart. It resulted in eleven hundred embryos. We speculated later that if what I had spurted onto Winnie's face and chest and stomach that first time had been captured and processed using the most advanced methods, it would have produced about 500,000 embryos. All those sperm were left to wriggle until they died within the folds of wabbed-up tissues. But a person could go crazy thinking like that. I was just one teenage boy, not a machine, and what we had learned so far was that to produce well, I had to be happy. Having Winnie as my willing girlfriend and having sex with her made me very happy. We experimented with oral sex in both directions, but it didn't appeal to me so much. I was too grossed out by anal sex to even want to think about it. When asked what my favorite position was, I said they were all great as long as I got to have my penis inside her vagina and end by spurting up inside her. The scientists wondered if they could take advantage of the semen that was going into Winnie. They mentioned condoms, and within half a second I had said "No". They knew never to raise that idea again. Winnie readily let them take a pair of her panties to analyze the discharge that had oozed out onto them, and the results were very promising. They wondered if she would mind trying a more intimate procedure, something that actually slid up into her vagina to actively collect what was up there. She was game, and it gave good results. I had just a twinge of jealousy at the thought of something else sharing her vagina, but it passed quickly. What was collected from inside her turned out to give much better results than a sample from masturbation. Thus was born the "whirrer", which used a gentle controlled suction to collect my semen and whatever secretions of hers were up there too. We speculated that the results were so good because I knew I was following my reptilian instincts to put semen in my mate, my human instinct to make love to my sweetheart, and that I also knew that I was providing a gift for all of humankind. During Winnie's period, she mostly lay beside me, nuzzling my ear and gently stroking my priceless testicles while I masturbated. The embryo counts dropped to about half with that procedure, but that wasn't so bad. ---------- An industry After a few weeks of embryo counts that remained very high, about 8,000 per day, the scientists and politicians had a decision to make. They didn't know if the high counts would continue, but it was worth the expense of assuming so. Allowing for further expansion in my capabilities, it was going to involve construction of a sizeable complex wherever I was going to live. They described the plan, which sounded OK to me. Next, they said I could pick just about anywhere I wanted to live. They probably would have razed half of Manhattan to make a palace for me if that was truly necessary to keep my semen effective. That's how important the project was. But still, it would help if I gave some thought to a place I might like to live permanently. Where would I like to set up home base? After careful consideration, I chose a spot on the Front Range of the Rockies, not too far from Boulder, Colorado. A security perimeter was established. Engineers set to work. I wanted to live pretty well above the plain, in what became known as the Residence, though it of course had far more than my personal quarters: security, maintenance, food, medical staff. But the industrial-scale parts of the operation would have to take place down on level ground. One feature of my semen was that unlike semen from the old days it did not work after being frozen and it started losing potency noticeably after about two hours. Those little vials that Winnie collected were rushed to meet the eggs. They needed lots of eggs from egg donors. The procedure was much the same as it had been during the old days before the great fertility crisis. Young women are given a mix of hormones to stimulate ovulation, not just of the normal single egg, but dozens of eggs, which are harvested from her body and mixed with sperm for fertilization. These eggs are fragile, since they last no more than twelve hours, and are most likely to work if used within four. Once my semen was divided into micro-droplets and distributed among the waiting eggs, it was a matter of waiting to see how many would take in one of my sperm to turn into embryos. Once the embryos were formed, time pressure lessened somewhat. Embryos were then implanted in women during the fertile phase of their cycles. Before long implantation became a simple procedure of pushing the embryo through a spaghetti-thin tube inserted through the cervix. But it was still best to implant them soon. The complex soon got its own airport. The whole operation near Boulder was soon dubbed Sperm Central. At this point the pros thought they should have 16,000 eggs ready for the semen I produced in a 24-hour period. One change they made was to increase the dose of drugs so the egg donors would give a couple hundred eggs, not dozens. It might interfere with a woman's later fertility, but as far as anyone knew this was her only chance at true fertility anyway. At an average of 200 eggs per woman, that was 80 women per day who needed to have their eggs harvested. To get the eggs in their little jars to my semen within a couple hours, they needed to build hotels for the women pretty close to wherever I was ejaculating. Since donation had to be timed with monthly cycles, there needed to be thousands of beds. --------- Polygyny One decision was whether to take measures to make sure Winnie didn't get pregnant, or to let nature take its course. The argument for the pill was that a pregnancy might upset an arrangement that was working. But the whole thing felt better to me if I thought I might be impregnating her, and that probably would translate into better embryo counts. So she stayed on her normal cycles. The scientists saw one advantage, since a naturally-conceived baby might be different in whatever mysterious way I was different. In six months Winnie did became pregnant. At first that was a cause for pure joy, and embryo counts went up a little. Trouble began around the third month. She admitted what I sensed: that she wasn't as interested in sex as usual. The count went down when I was ejaculating up inside an ambivalent Winnie, and was even lower when I went back to masturbating. We all knew I would have to look within and try to find out what would make me happy. Finding another girl was an obvious solution. Being untrue to Winnie was upsetting, but letting the counts plummet was upsetting too. There was no guarantee that Winnie and I would regain our special chemistry after her baby was born. She reminded me that she wasn't passionately in love with me. As I had found out that Winnie was not the perfect angel my crush had idealized her to be, I wasn't totally in love with her either. As I thought about crushes and perfection, my romanticism began to falter. I figured out that I was ready to give up serial monogamy. Given my role in the world, multiple lovers were going to be OK. The prospect was actually exciting. We all knew where to look first: The five other girls in high school I had found really sexy. My identity had been revealed as I had moved to the Residence at Sperm Central. The press descended on Secaucus. Everyone who knew me was interviewed by journalists, and many had their moment of international fame on the basis of some anecdote. When the five girls were approached with the opportunity to make a huge difference in the world, to be at the center of everything, they all consented. The pros told me that one seemed ambivalent at a gut level and was perhaps a bit unbalanced mentally, so we decided to leave her out. One was found to have chlamydia. That left me with Julie, Sally and Lisa. They knew from the start they should not expect my exclusive sexual attention, given how central my sexuality was to the world. Sally was tall, slender, and very blonde. One reason I had liked her in high school was that while she was very attractive and could have had any boy she wanted, she was kind to everyone. I liked that she was a bit reserved. Julie was darker and just slightly on the plump side, but her face was just gorgeous. She had a great sense of humor, and clearly had a passion for life. Lisa had been an actual friend, and I knew she had wanted to be my girlfriend for years. I liked her a lot. Sally was first to arrive. I think she would have gone right to bed if I wanted to, but she didn't lead me there the way Winnie had. And it felt right to talk with Sally a lot first, to snuggle, to make out slowly step by step. She had only had sex a couple times and had not found it a pleasant experience, as her lovers had been inexperienced and clumsy, and it wasn't entirely clear to her whether her second time was date rape or not. The steady boyfriend she had settled on had accepted a celibate lifestyle in return for the prestige of having her as his girlfriend. She had suffered little remorse dumping him to come be with me. But she found herself enjoying my attentions, the usual kissing, backrubs, breast sucking, and of course gentle play with the stuff between her legs. I missed Winnie, but it really was delicious and exciting to find myself one day on top of another gorgeous girl who I had dreamed about for years. I reflected on her lithe, naked body, her legs wide apart and my penis slowly and gently burying itself deeper and deeper within her. She did not come the first few times we had sex, and I only held back so long. Then she did start coming sometimes, and our reliable method for her to climax was to be on top, and for me to use my fingers to stimulate her. She liked orgasms, but they didn't possess her the way they do most women. But she came to adore me for my kindness and patience with her, and what made her ecstatic was to feel me achieve total sexual fulfillment inspired by her body. The grand and noble purpose of my ejaculations probably helped. I think I ended up ejaculating more semen into her than most girls because she so clearly wanted it, at every level. Julie arrived next, and she was quite a different story. She had had a dozen lovers already and really missed sex when she couldn't have it. I waited a day after her arrival before asking her to go to bed, and I was teasing her a little since I knew she really wanted to right away. She had large, satisfying orgasms every time. We started in missionary position, and went through a wide variety of others, but what she ultimately loved most was doggie style. It resonated with her most primal instincts, to present her rear end to the male animal who would grasp her, penetrate her and fertilize her. I loved it too. My penis got farther up into her vagina that way than in other positions, and I felt more like an animal, a stud. I could feel her vagina contract rhythmically when she came, and she screamed out her pleasure. I once asked a technician whether the embryo counts were OK from the rear, and she assured me they were. I almost caught a sense that they were if anything higher that way, though she tried not to reveal anything. Lisa arrived next. She had already been in love with me for years, and in this new role she positively worshipped me. She liked sex, and had orgasms regularly, but it seemed like she was so eager to please me she wasn't genuine somehow. And while I enjoyed her body and enjoyed sex with her, it didn't command my total enthusiasm the way it did with the others. In fact, when I reflected on it, I found I had invited Lisa up more because I felt like I ought to want her rather than actually wanting her. Winnie, Julie, and Sally were stiff competition, to be sure. I had developed a rapport with a few of the pros who served as my counselors, and I conferred with them. Following my inclinations, they told me that just below the surface Lisa deeply resented the fact that I had other lovers. She had to go. I had impregnated her in the few weeks she was with me, which in the current context of the world was a great gift. She would bear just the third baby conceived the old-fashioned way. I never again tried to talk myself into taking as a lover a woman I was not really attracted to, even if I felt I ought to be. I felt a little residual guilt about Lisa. The pros succeeded in relieving this. They brought her back to visit me a year later with her infant in the company of a very attractive husband who adored her. The pros probably found a perfect match for her just to make me happier. In private she assured me that she did love him and looked forward to their life together, but felt a deep fulfillment in having been able to consummate the passion she had felt for me for years, and what's more to bear my child. So with Julie and Sally in my life, all parts of me were aligned to enjoy ejaculating up inside each of them, over and over again, day after day. To everyone's relief, my embryo count was high, higher than it had been with Winnie alone. But there was information I did not want to know: how the embryo count fared depending on which vagina the semen was harvested from, and the pros were happy to oblige me in what to them was a trivial matter. Sally got up right away after sex to go to the bathroom to suck the semen out and send it away for processing. Julie was supposed to, but she was so blown away by her orgasms it was sometimes hard for her to walk, so I sometimes took pity on her and brought in the whirring gadget and did it for her. The design of the whirrer had been enhanced to have a vibrator capability. Any girl who received my semen had reason at a sensual level to be happy about whirring it out, not just knowing it was important. Winnie came back after her baby was born, and we took up where we left off, though with a trace less emotional closeness because she was no longer my only lover. My effectiveness was higher with two than with one, and even higher with three. I had all three of them as regular lovers for a few months, until Julie became pregnant. The scientists had a theory indicating that the amount of semen I was producing was now a limiting factor. The pros gently raised the idea of whether I would consider a mild drug that would increase sperm production. We tried it and it worked. Production doubled, and to everyone's relief the embryo count doubled too. They had mentioned it might increase my libidinal energies too, and they were most emphatically right about that. I was eager for sex and would easily have it ten times a day if my lovers were among them interested in that much. The drug made it so I could get and maintain an erection any time I felt like it. ------------ The wider world The world was still stunned by the fertility tragedy that had befallen the human race. It was eighteen years since the pregnancies stopped, and I had been producing sperm in quantity for the past two. The pregnancies from the implanted embryos came to term, and my sons and daughters were normal and healthy. From the broader society's point of view, I was a miracle and a source of great hope. This could keep the species from extinction, but it would not stem the collapse of world society as we knew it. If my production continued, I would father on the order of 2,000,000 children per year. That is far short of the 100,000,000 or so needed to replenish the population of the earth. And all of this might cease when I died, unless for instance some of my sons inherited my virility. To focus on the bottom line fate of the earth, the key number soon became the percentage of pre-crisis births we would achieve from current production. The figure now stood at 2 percent, which would save us from extinction but cause catastrophic upheaval. I lived in the USA, but the fertility crisis was worldwide. I wasn't exactly the property of the US government, but I somehow doubted I would be allowed to move overseas without at the least a huge battle. The US generously offered my services to other nations. Egg donors flew in to Sperm Central from all over the world. Embryos from eggs donated by Indian women would be flown back to India for implantation, while Armenian eggs flew back to Armenia. Military supersonic jets were often used to take the embryos over such long distances so they could be implanted while fairly fresh. While all countries flew their egg donors to my complex, rich countries sent some or all of their surrogate mothers as well so the implantation could be much quicker. The world had no choice but to put up with my genes. Fortunately they were pretty good, and the number of birth defects from genetic causes was reduced from what it had been in the old days. The allocation of embryos among nations was a serious issue. Funds were available to fly egg donors from obscure and remote tribes to Sperm Central, though cynics noted that it was also a cheap bit of favorable publicity. For larger, poor countries like Nigeria or Indonesia, the number of babies per million people was a tiny fraction of what it was in the US. Countries eventually ponied up a lot of money to send their egg donors to Boulder, some chartering jets for the purpose. But it was ultimately the US that scheduled the egg donors, and the political pressure to reserve the most spots for Americans was irresistible. Since my mood determined embryo counts, everything possible was done to shield me from unpleasantness. But when I realized I was being put in a cocoon, I objected. I insisted that I be able to read the news. That was at times upsetting to my temperament, with corresponding dips in fertility. So as a middle ground I recruited a friend from high school to help me, the first of my retinue (other than lovers) who I chose myself. Penelope was someone who just always struck me as incorruptible, a pillar of morality. And she was strong. I had her read the news, and tell me what she thought was important. She told me that many religious fundamentalists throughout the world rejected participating in the project at all. She told me there had been death threats, though it seemed the actual danger was small. Nonetheless, security was very tight for miles around Sperm Central. Penelope also told me that no egg donors were being accepted from North Korea, Pakistan, or China -- the "axis of evil" at that point in US history. I quickly agreed with her that this was unacceptable. If the US practiced imperialism before, it was now on a grand scale. There was that unavoidable most intimate form of imperialism -- the genes of a WASP were going to become half of any nation's next generation. But by mere inaction, the US could now literally extinguish any population in the world. The more I thought about it, the more I rebelled, and took Penelope's advice to insist the policy be changed. The government had no intention of doing so, as they did not want me interfering with foreign policy. Naturally my embryo count fell. Bigwigs from all branches of the government wanted to brief me and cajole me. Penelope and I were in a standoff with the US government, and it wasn't budging. My embryo counts had probably dropped to zero anyway, but to be sure I stopped having sex. It was very disruptive to stop having orgasms, so instead I masturbated a mere twice a day, and made sure every drop of semen went into the toilet, which I promptly flushed. The government realized they couldn't keep a secret about the total cessation of embryo production for long, so they eventually caved. I got a little bit of political power. Penelope started building up a staff to represent my interests. One of their first jobs was looking over the schedule of where the egg donors came from. We started suggesting changes, then demanding them, and then took over the scheduling entirely. But the staff had much broader goals too. It eventually grew to include policy experts in most areas. People joked that we were assembling a West Wing in the sense of a Colorado wing. I am proud to say that with my considerable weight on the political scales, corruption and the influence of big money on politics dropped considerably. The people's voice was heard more directly. Did I mention my staff were all women, too? I was happy if I never saw a man for weeks at a time. I didn't have very good memories of my father and big brother or the boys who had tormented me in school. I occasionally had sex with women on my staff, if upon discreet investigation it turned out we were both interested. A few were delighted to become pregnant that way. The issue never came up between me and Penelope. ------------- Nymphs So what kind of life did I lead up on the mountain in Colorado? My personal quarters were simple because my tastes were simple. What visitors there were went through a quarantine to reduce the chance I would catch an infection, but I didn't really want many visitors. I need plenty of alone time anyway. During the day, I enjoyed the wide world of possibilities on the internet, read books, and of course considered issues with my staff. I am something of a homebody, and I hardly ever traveled. Sally, Winnie, and Julie each had her own apartment. Winnie and Julie had full-time nannies to take advantage of as much as they wanted. Sally had decided from the start she did not want to become pregnant, and was on the pill. I tried sleeping at night with each of them, but eventually I ended up with the calm, loving Sally. For my last sex of the day, I would thrust away inside her, a little more gently than with the others, and just as another orgasm erupted, see those adoring eyes. I fell asleep almost before the orgasm faded, but I would come to briefly as I felt her warm form nuzzle against me after her trip to the bathroom and the whirring gadget. I usually had sex with Sally first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I made dates with Winnie and Julie. For instance, Winnie might come over at 11 in the morning, and we would have sex once, then rest ten minutes and do it again. Julie came over at 3, and we had sex once, then after twenty minutes did it again. The more I had sex with them, the more sex I wanted. They all realized their vital place in the world and would never refuse me. But I got them to admit they were not full participants sometimes, especially if I was proposing sex for the fourth time that day, and they agreed to stop pretending. So if she wasn't feeling particularly interested, Winnie might close the door and pull off her pants and panties, lie on the bed with her legs apart and massage her labia for a minute to get some lubrication going and signal me it was time. If my erection wasn't already up when I got to her room, it was by then. I would slide into her still-perfect body, thrust twenty times and come, deep and strong as ever. She would slide away and whirr away her dose of semen as per the routine. It might take three minutes from start to finish. Julie was the sort of woman who was just about always lubricated. Sometimes I would visit her unannounced, already erect and horny. She would drop her book, bend over, hitching up her skirt and pulling down her panties. I would mount her from the rear, thrust five times and come hard and deep, then slip out and leave, panting. Total time, twenty seconds. But I didn't really like doing that. Embryo counts started dropping, inexorably. Since embryo counts depended on my mood, all of us from the beginning had been afraid of what my mood would require. I never had any taste for anal or oral sex, which was helpful because the semen was happier in a vagina before being collected than anywhere else. Fetishes would not cause any serious problem. But what if my tastes became outlandish or unethical? Rooms of solid gold? Rape? Sadism? Human sacrifice? But we would look at it one step at a time. Winnie, Sally and Julie ran the gamut of female tendencies and were not chosen specifically for being the lover to a semen machine. We had run through all the girls in my small high school who I felt strongly attracted to in any event. Three women were not sufficient to satisfy my sexual appetites. Perhaps I should be getting young women chosen specifically for the purpose at hand. This had the air of prostitution about it, but my staff convinced me to think about it a little differently. It might be good if I indulged my sexual desires more, given my position in the world. My fertility might not just recover, it might surge. It was worth a shot. The pros in consultation with my staff devised a program to find more mates for me. Women from all over the world were invited to submit applications. Along with being a lover of the famous John Smith and being a minor celebrity, the successful candidate would be able to designate five friends to get implanted embryos. She herself would have the chance to conceive a child in the old-fashioned manner. It was a discrete advertisement, in selected places, but the news spread like wildfire. There were ten million initial applications, so we could afford to be quite selective. My staff limited the offer to Americans because I like people who share my language and culture and the security concerns were less. From the initial applications my staff studied the pictures and showed me hundreds of possible candidates they thought I might find attractive. They learned my preferences pretty quickly and applied them. At that point we had 40,000 candidates that I found gorgeous. There was plenty of other screening: personal health, family health history, decent intelligence, personality, security clearance, and an essay on why the candidate wanted the job. All that winnowing left 1,000 candidates, who came in groups to the new facility at Sperm Central for further study and interviews. One of the most notable screening areas was sexual attitude and performance. These women had to have strong sexual appetites, and in particular to find the father of humanity attractive, as displayed to them in pictures and videos, some of them X-rated. But they also could not get jealous or frustrated if ignored for a while, because there would be no other men in their lives -- while in my service, they would be mine and mine alone. They had to be genuinely enthusiastic about sex just about any time, in any configuration, and on short notice. We found a mild drug they would take that simulated the middle of a normal menstrual cycle and kept them constantly lubricated to some extent. They had to be tolerant of creative and unusual practices. My staff at the Residence was all female, but down on the flatlands it included some men whose job was to have sex with aspiring young women under various conditions. It was perhaps one of the dream jobs of all time, though they too had to pass very careful screened to get that assignment. The women had to be very supportive of the entire enterprise of spreading my seed throughout the world as our only hope of survival. They became known as nymphs. At that point the Residence had different areas. First there was my personal house. That had the inner sanctum, where almost no one but me went. It looked over a Japanese garden with a great view of mountains and plains beyond. It was small and had my private bed, armchair, computers, and books. Moving outward there was my bedroom where I slept with women (Sally most nights), and then farther out a room for private conferences, kitchenette, bath, and fair-sized living room. My personal house was connected to other buildings by transparent tube-like corridors. One was for the Staff, and another housed the apartments of Julie, Winnie and Sally. There were other parts of the Residence for maintenance, food services, and security, but they were largely invisible to me. A new Sex building was constructed to accommodate the nymphs. The whole thing was architected playfully among the rocks. There were twisty little passages and stairs, nooks for trysts, spots under pine trees, towers with winding stairs and the topmost with a 360-degree view. There were many bedrooms of different sizes, including some for my private use. Each nymph had her own as well. The common living areas for the nymphs were part of that complex too. Everywhere were whirring devices and the pneumatic tubes to take vials of semen away. Finally it was time. Five nymphs had just moved into the Sex building. Late one September afternoon, I entered the bedroom of Abigail. I was electrified as soon as I took one look at her, and felt faint. She was maybe 20, 5'6", with shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, a perfect nose, and the fairly thin figure I find most appealing. I had been planning to chat for a while, but she went over to me and put her arms around my waist, and after brief consideration said "I think you want sex" with a gentle smile. She really was quite correct. So she led me to the bed. Her own clothes were constructed so she could get out of them almost instantly. Mine took just a little longer, even with her help. Since I didn't give her any specific direction, she just lay back on the bed with a smile and spread her legs. I started to mount this gorgeous creature, and caught myself for a moment, thinking of my initial encounter with Winnie and my current desire to put my semen in the right place. Abigail was clearly well-lubricated. I slid my penis into her and found her vagina to be hot, silky and perfect. I had been encouraged in this whole enterprise to indulge my fantasies a little more, and so I did. I pulled back once but then rammed myself in deep as I came powerfully, seconds after entering her. I felt a little guilty, but as I collapsed on top of her she gave a delightful little laugh that convinced me she was entirely happy. After I lay there panting for maybe twenty seconds, I rolled off and let her get up to use the gentle little whirring device in the bathroom. But then it struck me. If these nymphs were all selected in this manner, neither very quick sex or anything else I wanted to do would offend them, and if Abigail was typical, they were indeed as HOT as we had hoped. I leapt up and without even saying goodbye went into the hallway stark naked with a shiny half-erect penis. I opened the door to the next room. Tina was an entirely different but equally electrifying woman. She had short dark hair, brown twinkling eyes, and a slightly bigger hip section, which mesmerized me. She smiled and without a word I motioned for her to bend over the bed to show that hip section to good effect, which she did, without losing a trace of the smile, letting her skirt drop to the floor in the same motion. I mounted her from behind, touched her labia just enough to get oriented, pushed my penis in, to a different but equally perfect vagina, and came in the very same motion I entered her, feeling my orgasm reverberate and my semen pulsing out, making me stagger. She turned her head and smiled almost reverently, and once getting me sitting on the bed, went to the bathroom to use the whirring device. When she came back, I had slumped over on the bed reflecting on these magnificent bouts of sex. She straightened me out and started hugging me in the same deft motion. I started kissing her and making out. But after five minutes I looked at her with an urgent expression. I really could just stop making love to one woman and head for another if I wanted! Off to the next room I went, still naked and with my erection rising. Cathy was already completely naked. She was 4'11" with her hair in a French braid, with barely any breasts or hips, also one of my favorite shape. She looked barely 16. These women could talk to each other, I found out later, and naked was at the moment the best way to receive me. Cathy was sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs apart. This was so alluring I motioned her to stay where she was and spread her legs a little wider. I stood by the bed and slid my penis into her just as she was, on the edge of the bed. Also perfect. This time I thrust for a whole two minutes. She came once, a moderate orgasm. At the end I surged forward, with my hands on her little butt to force us close. I pushed as deep as I could as I let the semen jet go. Sliding out I ran directly to the next room. Diane had long blond hair and an absolutely adorable face, with average breasts, about on the high end of what I like. She was also naked. I motioned for her to lie on her back, then I lay on top of her and thrust for a good while, more feebly as the minutes past. I was exhausted. Having sex three times in a few minutes was not so unusual for me, but their overwhelming attractiveness was. Diane then nibbled my ear, and I could feel a gentle orgasm as another dose of semen pumped into her. I then collapsed on top of her. I must have been dead out. I don't know how many minutes later it was that I came to. My penis had slid out of her. She was looking a little the worse for wear, gasping in tiny breaths -- but still smiling. I had fallen asleep with my dead weight on top of her, and she had lain their patiently rather than nudging me off. This nymph training was going a little far, I thought as I instantly and apologetically moved off of her. She started breathing like she had just done a windsprint as she started to get up to use the whirring device, but I held her back down for another couple minutes until she fully got her breath. Then she went to the bathroom to harvest my semen. I was basically exhausted, but I had slept for a few minutes, so I had a little extra energy. I was out the door before she got back. I spotted a man from my medical staff in the hallway, who asked if I was OK. That was questionable, but I nodded and was through the door of the fifth room. Zoe had shoulder-length light brown hair, fairly tall at 5'10", and just perfectly proportioned in every respect. I motioned for her to stand up. I lay on the bed and asked her to straddle me, which she promptly did, with her own gentle smile. I asked her to do what felt best, so she rode me up and down for all of 30 seconds before I could see her tremble, and feel her vagina squeeze me, and see her eyes glaze over. "Can you keep going?" I asked. She did, and about four minutes into it this time I felt myself coming as this gorgeous creature came to her second orgasm. I heaved upward, sending her up in the air six inches, still firmly hugging me with her vagina, as my semen shot up into her. I said "More", and as I drifted off to sleep she was still moving up and down slowly. When I woke this time it was probably an hour or more later. She was sweetly curled up by my side with her head in the crook of my chest and upper arm. I felt exhausted, so after chatting for a few minutes I went back to sleep. At midnight I awoke to her overwhelmingly sexy presence. I lifted her leg and she scooched her female parts in close to me, just above my penis -- they taught these women applied geometry, too, I noticed. So we did it side-by-side, while I gazed at her lovely face and I slowly felt the warmness spread as I eased into a slow orgasm, but still giving her a couple good spurts of semen. The drugs helped my production. I hugged her, dressed in the fresh clothes that had been left for me, kissed her goodbye, and went back to my private bedroom for the rest of the night. Francoise was kind of like my shrink, and in the morning I called her in to make sure the nymphs really didn't mind my frantic sex. She had already been doing her homework and assured me they were in fact delighted. They were delighted to see me happy and were excited by the virility of the only man with potent sperm, with the whole world riding not on my shoulders, but my balls. My staff later told me that my sperm from the previous day's adventures had been so potent they had run out of eggs, but estimated we were at 5% replenishment, far above when I was having sex with Winnie, Sally, and Julie. I also happily consented to a higher dose of the drug so that I would have the stamina for more frequent erections and orgasms to match my increased desire. Each nymph had a private room. There were video cameras in each room and its private bath, which they knew I might be scanning at any time. I would sometimes look at them at night as they slept, and if a certain gestalt of position and bedclothes and mussed-up hair struck my fancy, I might head down to the nymph's room at a trot, my erection rising as I went, and slide into bed with her, slide into her, and spurt my semen in seconds later, or we might make love for an hour. For a few weeks there was one nymph who drove me wild with desire whenever I saw her pee, and she found me twice bounding through her door just a minute or two later. She decided to drink a lot and pee a lot. The nymphs could always say no, no matter what was proposed. They could turn the cameras off, and they could declare themselves to be not very interested in sex. They could leave my service at any time. I sometimes treated these women in a way that many or most women would find degrading. But nymphs were all selected for high sexual interest, attraction to me, and flexibility. So they were rarely trying to avoid me. They were if anything vying for my attentions. They had living areas where they could socialize and lead their lives, since of course being a lover (or at minimum sperm receptacle) for me was a very part-time job. Staying nude or wearing whatever minimal bit of lingerie that they thought might turn me on soon became the fashion among them, even when socializing with each other. At first if I spotted a nymph in the common areas I especially wanted, I would lead her back to her room. But when I started experimenting with a little exhibitionism, I learned a nymph would often prefer to stay with the group too. She was happy to have been chosen, and was happy to show off a little. The others could soak up my presence, sometimes touch or caress me. Pretty often I was thrusting away in an orgasm-besotted woman on a living room sofa, while three or four others looked on, sometimes with a hand just happening to rest in her lap. In a group setting, a woman could count on a friend sliding the whirring gadget into her so she could bathe in an afterglow instead of having to get up right away. As I mentioned before, I was possessive enough that I was the only man they could ever have while in my service. Most were masturbating and a few started having sex with each other, which was more than fine with me. In those first few months I had twenty nymphs in my service. They all wanted me, and I wanted all of them. The more sex I had, the more I wanted. My sporadically kept diary shows June 4th as a rather typical day. I woke up spooned against Mary at dawn, and her sleepy womanly smell and flesh was so sexy I had to slide into her from the rear, thrust twenty times and leave her with a big goop of semen to whirr away. But I remembered I had been dreaming of Sue, so I was out the door and off to Sue's room. Sue was in the shower, which was quite the treat. She was delighted to invite me in, and after a few minutes of kissing in the steam, I lifted her right leg and pressed her against the shower stall wall and pumped her standing up. She had two orgasms before I gave one tremendous last thrust which lifted her remaining foot off the ground, as my penis pulsed three or four times. I started to keel over, but Sue caught me and got me lying on the bed before whirring away my little gifts. I drifted off for five minutes, but I woke up to Sue's scent, and she was sitting above me on the bed with legs wide apart, her crotch inches from my face, which she had learned I liked. I gave her a few licks as my penis rose again. I lay on my back and motioned her on top of me. She impaled herself on me and was jerking unevenly, mashing our pubic hair mats against each other. As soon as she cried out with pleasure, I pulled her down on top of me, and squeezing her back ferociously with one hand and her butt with the other, I thrust roughly up inside her ten times and gave her another little dollop as I roared with pleasure. I released my grasp on her in a few minutes, and she was off to whirr that away. After that I was out cold for an hour. I was hungry when I got up, and headed back to my own private apartment for some food. I should mention that while I had chefs to make me whatever I wanted, sometimes I would chug a special liquid packed with calories and other nutrients, because I wanted to be off to my next woman. Then I assembled my staff for the daily staff meeting. There were no big issues today, and after half an hour my mind started wandering and I excused myself with a "Carry on!" I was dreaming of the quintet, something we had perfected the day before. I touched a button to tell the team to assemble. By the time I got to the north living room five minutes later they were there on the bed (these living rooms all had beds; we needed them). Carol had just been there a week, and she was perfection among the perfect. She lay on her back with her legs apart just far enough, and I sucked her lovely nipples a couple times before lying on her and sliding my penis into her silky vagina -- she was literally hot, having for some reason a 102-degree body temperature as her norm. I slid very slowly back and forth, inside her, like an engine idling, while I memorized her shoulder-length reddish hair and impish girl face with the cutest nose. But Brenda was lying above my head, and I tilted my head upwards to be at the nape of her neck because her odor there thrilled me at some entirely different level. Tiny Yvonne straddled my back, because I loved the sensation of her crotch as she ever so lightly brushed it on my back, and I adored the little squeaks she made as she got excited. Donna was the Jester of the Bottom Half, who kept surprising me. She would suck a toe, lick behind my knee, whack my butt, blow cool breath my scrotum, massage a calf, give a Bronx cheer to my thigh, I never knew what next. And I would slide in and out of Carol in largo time. I wanted this to last forever, but within half an hour my inner reptile complained, and after ten slow but mighty thrusts I fogged out in orgasm and pumped Carol full, it seemed. Indeed, the whirring got a record amount of semen from the quintet. Within seconds, gentle hands had me on my side, spooned against Brenda, with my nose in her hair. I slept half an hour. I wasn't even awake when my penis was erect and I was thrusting kind of randomly. Brenda soon corrected that and I was thrusting somewhere not at all random, and as I woke up, took a deep sniff of Brenda's hair and ejaculated, pleasure washing over me. Nice way to wake up. But as Brenda got up to do her whirring, there on the facing sofa was Naomi, reading a magazine. She was topless, but had on a skirt and her legs were primly folded under her. I suddenly had a vivid memory of having a great time with what was under that particular skirt. I whispered her name and went over to her as she put the magazine down and smiled. I ran my hand up under her skirt, my penis hardening all the time. What I felt up there was some very soft hair, and a little lower that soft hair was damp verging on wet, and when I pressed in there I could feel her labia pressing in and parting a little. Taking my hand back out I pushed her gently back on the sofa, flipped the skirt up, forced her legs apart (she resisted a little to tease me) and pressed deep, right at that spot where her labia had parted a little. This time they parted a lot. Two minutes of thrusting, one big simultaneous orgasm at the end. I was still surfacing out of the ecstatic fog when I heard Yvonne laugh across the room. She was lying on her side, naked, with one knee up in the air making a kind of miniature mountain. I walked across the room, fast if a little unsteadily, and pulled her lower leg up straight and hugged the whole thing like a post, which she stiffened for that purpose. I knelt on the sofa and looked at her crotch area, with ample hair. Yvonne was tiny, but her crotch was just normal size, and looked especially alluring in contrast. I buried myself in her vagina. Our pubic areas were sideways to each other. It wasn't too many seconds later I lunged hard against her as I came, pulsing a few times. Now I was almost possessed. Amy was leaning over a table, looking casually at a magazine. The two little mini-globes of her labia were small echoes of the large white globes of her rear end. I got up and approached her. I separated the labia with my fingers, and they came apart sticking a little, revealing the inner labia and the beginning of her vaginal opening. My erection wasn't even going down between matings. I frantically slid right into Amy from behind, which I suspect is exactly what she was hoping I would do, as the magazine was upside down. I slid in very deep three times and my penis twitched in orgasm, pulse, pulse, pulse. The pleasure was accumulating deliciously within me from woman to woman. The word had gotten around about my escapades, and other nymphs who hadn't been in the room came in to get in on the action. One wore a chador, a new attempt to excite my interest, and I pushed her down gently on the bed on her back, and pushed my hand up the middle of the chador from the bottom, so it bunched at the sides. I exposed the part I wanted, the juicy labia, and then assumed the missionary position thrusting away methodically. I never did figure out who it was. At that time, I didn't care. I ended up orgasming inside 9 of my nymphs, and with Carol a second time, which felt kind of like a sauna after a workout. I staggered back to my own private bed and slept by myself for eight hours. Not all days were that extreme, but I was doing a lot of mating. I had still been sleeping with Sally most of the time. Sally was great, but my cravings were getting stronger. So first I had sex with some woman just before going to bed, and I started off sleeping with Sally. After a couple hours I would wake up and urgently want Sally, so we would make love for a few minutes, my sweet adoring girl, and then I would end with a few gentlemanly thrusts, though the semen spurts were as vigorous as ever. But after she got up to whirr she went off to her own room. A nymph crawled into bed with me as I fell asleep. And every couple hours I awoke to the alluring female presence beside me and sleepily slid my penis into the nymph of the hour. Thrust once: pulse, pulse, pulse, ecstasy and back to sleep. Another nymph took her place. After a few hours, thrust twice: pulse, pulse, ecstasy and back to sleep. We tried upping the dose of the drug a little more. I was having maybe 15 orgasms a day, with a full measure of semen spurting out on each one. In one session as a sort of megalomaniac fantasy I lined all twenty up in doggy position and I took them one after another, 30 seconds apart. Took them and in short order gave them three strong tugs of semen. We were up to 15% replacement. But now and then in the night a nymph woke up to warm fluid suddenly surging onto the small of her back while I was still out cold after sleeping a full four hours. Then began a time when each nymph had to be sure to wake me up every couple hours. Sort of like waking up a three-year-old in the middle of the night to pee so she doesn't wet the bed. I got erections often enough, so the routine was that as the time approached they would slide my penis into them while I was still asleep. They liked this routine, since they could get themselves to the brink of orgasm so that just after I entered them and started thrusting they would have a big orgasm too, pulses answering pulses. It was good for the embryo counts too, and they sometimes kept doing that even when it wasn't necessary to avoid stray semen spurts. But although my penis was hard and the successive orgasms were intoxicating, exhaustion set in and embryo counts started dropping a little. So we lowered the drug dose a little, and settled for 12%. Like the three-year-old I did soon learn my own signals and woke up on my own. My body had semen to get rid of, and whatever combination of sexy signals the woman beside me was giving out, I wanted to get rid of it in her. She might awaken to my entering her and thrusting five times to deliver that semen to a safe place, but then falling back to sleep almost at once. You might think these nymphs got nothing but quickies from me, to the extreme of about one second of notice as my penis barged through labia, up vagina, and shot out a spurt of semen before withdrawing two strokes later. The nymphs didn't mind that, since they were selected to be that kind of woman and, more important, there was something highly erotic about their role in this great enterprise. Their vaginas stood in each time for thousands of vaginas that would never hold fertile sperm but whose associated uteri would as a result of this quickie grow a cherished baby. Along with the quickies, I would spend a couple hours now and then, talking, luxuriating in flesh and making sweet love in the ways they loved best. Sixteen orgasms, one woman counted, in the 45 minutes my penis was thrusting in her. There was one nymph who didn't reach orgasm as quickly as many others, but once she did was in continuous intense orgasm for ten minutes. She was a rag doll when it was over, but I was delighted to do her whirring for her. The vibrator capability of these whirrers kept improving, and after a few years the enterprising technician Jenna made one with some secret complicated vibration pattern that all the women reported as divine and has never been duplicated in the wider world. My production continued to increase. Techniques in the fertilization building were getting more refined, another reason that the percentage might go up -- it got as far as 16%. The scale of the operation increased. More hotels were built, and the airport got busier. I kept sweet Sally with me to hug as the night began. She was my anchor in a sea of perfect women. As I mentioned before, the nymphs were on a mild drug which maintained their reproductive organs as they would be in the fertile part of a normal menstrual cycle, constantly lubricated to some extent at least, and with a chemistry favorable to the health of sperm. But they had been promised a chance to have a baby in the normal manner. And for the many who did want that, we waited to a point where I was prepared or at least resigned to part with their company and they began normal cycles. On fertile days a nymph was entitled to keep all the semen I gave her. A few took that privilege fully but most just whirred a bit less thoroughly, and still had plenty for their own one little egg. They didn't want to deprive the world of 5,000 babies to satisfy a whim. Some of them stayed through large parts of their pregnancy, which lent a little variety for me too. With high doses of the drug, one limitation sometimes was my physical stamina. On August 12th I lay on my back, and attached a vibrator that fit securely on my pubic bone. A nymph approached me from overhead, guided my penis into her as she enveloped me, and then landed on the vibrator. With a half dozen or dozen strokes she would typically have a large orgasm. I would rise into orgasm with her and spurt. As soon as my spurts were finished, the woman would lift herself off me and go away to whirr. The next woman would impale herself on me, bounce up and down on the vibrator a few times and have her orgasm too, while I spurted up inside her. I didn't even have to move. One orgasm overlapped with another. Each time a new woman appeared, my sexual energy replenished itself and I was good for more spurts of semen, each spurt just swimming with sperm desperately seeking an egg up inside. It worked best in the dark, somehow, where I could concentrate on smells and the successive hot vaginas enveloping me. Each new vagina hungered for me, gobbled me up, and sent its owner into intense orgasm, begetting matching spurts and ecstasy from me. I could cycle through all my nymphs that way and get halfway through them a second time before I would fall asleep from the cumulative drug of all those orgasms. ----------- Family The nymphs became the center of my sex life, and I slept with Sally for a few hours every night. But I never forgot Winnie and Julie. They both tried living back in the wider world down below. Julie married but divorced soon after. Winnie didn't find anyone to her liking. Perhaps the time with me was too vivid to them, but for whatever reason they were both eager to come back. So we set up a family wing to the Residence for the two of them and their children. Winnie's first child was a son, the only boy who lived in the Residence. Julie's was a daughter. They each bore a second child by me, both girls, conceived in the normal manner. Winnie's and Julie's old apartments became officially a family complex. Those four children lived there but went to school in the nearby town down on the flat and lived a fairly normal life. I may have been the father of millions, but these were the only four children who I helped raise and who knew me as a father. I did have too busy a life to spend a lot of time with them, but it was consistent, and it was precious. I made a point of satisfying Winnie and Julie's own desires, though in private as ordinary people would, not in the rampant exhibitionist style of the nymphs. ----------- Reflection I never asked for this kind of life. But it really could be a lot worse. I provide my male fluids several times a day in fulfillment of my every sexual fantasy, and so far it looks like I'm on track to father hundreds of millions of children and save the species. ================================================================== I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.