My wife was sitting on my face; I had one half-second of hesitation, and then I tossed that reticence away and committed myself totally. I opened my mouth, and she pressed her soft, warm, hairy pussy into my lips. I had expected it would take a moment before I noticed anything unusual. It was instant. I tasted it thick and full from the start. Though I had never tasted it before, that’s precisely how I recognized what it was. Rival sperm! I didn’t flinch. I had this thought: I should hurry to remove as much of it as possible, before any of it fertilizes her egg. These white tadpoles left other men’s nuts in ecstatic jubilation, believing they were en route to a beautiful woman’s uterus to be made living. But no! They were to find themselves in my stomach, destroyed by digestive acid. I could use the fucking protein. This was cannibalistic, carnivorous; I fed. Countless sperm, each with the potential to be a sentient, conscious life with many decades ahead… having come so close… instead got sucked and licked out, swallowed down into the pit! Fuck them! If she had another DIC appointment next month and one of them got her pregnant, so be it. But not these fellas. Not this night. Not if I could help it. I gulped it down; I swirled my tongue as deep into her as I could protrude it… my jaw hurt from the force and frenzy with which I licked her.

She writhed, she bucked, she tensed, she moaned. At one point she looked down and made brief eye contact with me. She was astounded. Had she believed I would recoil? Did they tell her at the ministry, “You should teach your husband to do this, but he might need some convincing?” No, honey. I’m not above it. It’s not gross to me. Yesterday it would have been. But I lied when I said I didn’t watch you with those three men. I watched all of it, and that’s why I can do this. Because I saw why I must.

I forgot my wife. There was only her body. I caressed her possessively, jealously, and angrily. I squeezed her thighs, her full ass cheeks; I gripped her around her waist, and then my hands slid up under her heavy breasts. I wanted to be gentle and aggressive simultaneously; I wanted to leave evidence in her flesh that I had taken her back! I turned my arm into a whip, as though it had no joints, and with nanosecond speed lashed it across her ass. She moaned and hissed, but I held her so tight her pussy remained locked to my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice quivered.

I did it again, same spot, so it would hurt extra.

“I’m sorry!” she yelped.

That taste wouldn’t subside! Three highly fertile, virile men had left enough sperm in my wife that I could be at this for an hour or more! As I licked she became aroused, as she became aroused her pussy tented, widened, deepened far beyond what my tongue could reach. Motherfuckers! It must be so deep inside, sticking to her walls, coating every little fold and wrinkle in there, warmed by her internal body heat. It must be gobbed up in her anterior fornix, and her posterior fornix, too. Some portion of it is already in her uterus; it's gotta be. For all I know, she’s already gestating. Was this hopeless?

I released her. She collapsed into the sofa, legs spread. She stared at me from under her brow. As I caught my breath, her expression changed; she squinted, “Oh?” and pointed between my legs.

I looked. I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t much, but I had ejaculated. Had I orgasmed without realizing it… just from eating her out?

I had meant to leave my load in her, what little there was. It dawned on me why the nurse encouraged, almost demanded, that I blow my balls at the clinic. She’d even snapped a photo, not of my wife or of me, but of my goo dripping down the observation portal pane. That bullshit the nurse told me about acceptance, agency, whatever… she must know that husbands take their wives back and fuck them the same night as their DIC appointments. The ministry wanted my nuts emptied, so I wouldn’t have anything to compete against their selected paramours with.

My wife came back with some wet tissues and wiped me up, almost like she was a nurse herself. “There.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I took the tissue from her and took care of my own modest mess.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Stop saying sorry.” I stood and made way for the trash bin to discard my brave, pointless few.

“We can do it tomorrow. The school gave me seven days of leave for my DIC appointment,” she explained.

“Seven? I thought it was two.” Who cares?

“I’m a government employee; we get little bonuses like that,” she said, smiling.

I fell asleep on the sofa. She lay atop me.

The next morning she made breakfast for us. We had a pleasant, ordinary breakfast conversation I can’t recall a single detail of. On my way to work I told the car to take a little detour and drop me off. I went to the local Ministry of Women’s Health & Reproduction HQ, unconcerned that I’d be late getting to the office, and I searched the plaza for the protester. He wasn’t there. I came back during my lunch break, and he still wasn’t there. Then, in the middle of the night, after my lovely wife was in bed, I searched again. Again, not there. I went home and tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I had to look one more time. I arrived in the plaza before dawn. At last, I found him. He wasn’t being loud, but he had on the robot costume, complete with the 10-inch dildo between the legs, and his signs… except now they lit up in the dark: neon greens and pinks.

He watched me read each of the signs propped up in his little protest corner. One read: Only a god commands to be fruitful and multiply. That was interesting, but I shrugged. Another read: We are bred like domesticated animals, until we learn to bite.

I pointed at that one. “Who’s we, partner? You bred like animals; I got neutered like a pet.”

He stood toe-to-toe with me. “You wouldn’t envy it if you lived it. Not knowing the women you’re told to give yourself to, or your children they have by you. I see young strangers’ faces every day I suspect might be my blood. Hell, we don’t resemble much, but I could be your daddy, and only Emperor knows.”

“My mom never got a DIC appointment. The quota was much narrower then,” I explained. I looked at another one of his signs: What man makes, man can destroy.

I chuckled. “Not Emperor. If it were possible, you wouldn’t be allowed to say it. And yet here you are.”

We stood in silence for a moment, but then I asked him, “Why camp here at night?”

“Some women arrive at night for their appointment; if they don’t want anybody to know they got summoned, they do it discreetly and without missing work,” he explained, like it was his business.

I got a little pissed and then some at him. “Obviously. So why stay here at night? They don’t want to be spotlighted, yet here you are.”

“No. If I can get even one to turn around, to reconsider, stick it out, delay it… then it’s worth my time.” He got all fiery-eyed and gruff in his voice.

I raised my hand at him to gesture for him to stop. “Brother! I don’t know why I came here looking for you. You can’t understand the rest of us out here. You saw it from your side, the paramours’ side. And you’re old; it’s different now. People’s heads are different. The system itself works differently. All the hiccups got worked out, the complications, all of it. The ministry has it down like a production line: no mistakes but small ones, rare ones they can fix and learn from to tighten it up tighter! It lets you do this clown show. What does that tell you?”

He looked past me, over my shoulder. I stopped and turned to see. A grey feminine figure was approaching the plaza. She wore a little white respirator and a low baseball cap to hide her face. She glanced at us, nervous, from several yards away. There was only me, the protester, the woman approaching the entrance, and a chill morning breeze.

Stupid fuck began his chant! “We must persist, we must resist, don’t go in, we are men, turn around, to women we’re…”

I balled up both fists and squared up with him. “You’re not helping anyone like this. Shut the fuck up,” I growled.

He kept at it as her pace quickened for the ministry entrance. “To women we’re bound! I don’t know much, but this I’ve found…”

I shoved him hard; he fell backward onto his ass and his robot costume sorta busted apart. His fat floppy dildo broke free from his groin and rolled across the plaza. “I’m not above beating your ass right up to the second they zip a bot out for you,” I told him.

He looked up at me, stunned at first, but then smiling. “You had that inside you and yet you let them fuck your wife. Isn’t human nature confounding?”

I turned, and the woman had disappeared. I don’t know if she entered the ministry or if she really did turn around. I doubt it.

I gave the protester my hand and helped him back up. “I’m sorry.”