The year is 2242. The downward trend in sperm count amongst white males that began in the late 20 th century has continued for the past two centuries. Only 18% of the world's current population has honest-to-god white skin. Only 8% of that population is male. I happen to be one of them.
My owner has me posted in the Genetic Enhancement Catalog for upper-class women who want their children to have lighter skin or other hereditary traits. I am currently listed in the White/Male/Talented section since I can paint, draw, and play music by ear. Of course, no one actually takes an interest in my art, but my owner always has some of it on display in her office to show her clients that the advert is for real. She also has a sample of my semen on hand to show prospective clients how unusually high my sperm count is.
She also tells them that I have a seven inch long dick (which must be accurate or my owner would get nailed for false advertising). This is meant as an incentive to copulate the old fashioned way even though it's a bit more expensive than test tube fertilization. My owner probably makes more money selling my "standard" services per year than all of her sperm sample sales combined. Of course, sperm samples are a dime a dozen these days, and the best way to make sure that hereditary-specific sperm is legit is to get it directly from the source. Like me.
I've certainly had worse jobs. Most males my age are either miners or farmers or soldiers. I'm only twenty-eight, but I've been in the sperm business for eight years already since my genetic make-up is so rare. I mean let's face it, when's the last time you heard of a white male who could paint, draw, play the piano, and
had a tremendously high sperm count? Not many of my kind left, I guess. Otherwise my owner wouldn't be able to charge such a stiff fee.
I have another client scheduled for this afternoon. She's a new customer who wants her child to have brown hair and greenish eyes and a streak of artistic talent. Or so I'm told. I expect some clients sign up just to see what it's like to be fucked with a seven inch dick. I doubt that it's really that much different from being fucked by anyone else, but suppose there's some sort of psychological factor at work. Right now my client is probably making sure that she's at the peak of her ovulation cycle and dressing herself up a little. Most clients realize that sight is a powerful stimulant for males and dress accordingly. Most of them just want to get it over with and get out of here. No emotion, no hugs and kisses, no fun. But with the promise of an extra inch at their disposal, some are willing concentrate on the sensuality of the experience.
The door lock to my cubicle chimes and unlatches as my client arrives. As I was saying, the work's not so bad, I'm just not allowed to actually leave my cubicle. I try not to mull over that point too much.
My client for today is pretty attractive (most of them are, survival of the fittest and all that). She is of medium height with shoulder length brown hair and green eyes. She is wearing a tight fitting black dress with thigh high black stockings. The dress accentuates her curvy hips and a low V-cut highlights her small-ish but apparently firm breasts. She seems a little nervous as she asks me what I would like her to do. Maybe this is the first time she's used a stud service. She certainly needn't worry about abuse. Violent prone stud-servants don't last very long in this industry.
I tell her to come sit on the bed and relax. I'm dressed in only in my pajama bottoms so she needn't feel embarrassed about her own scantily clad body. I kneel down on the plush carpet in front of her, remove her high heeled shoes and start to massage her feet. She has well toned, muscular legs. Maybe she takes dance lessons. Who knows? Eventually I work my way up to her calves and lower thighs, never exploring quite beyond the top of her stockings. I love the silky feel of her curvy legs flowing through my supple hands. Her eyes are closed and she has a serene expression on her face but her breathing is still a bit subdued.
I sit next to her in the bed, resting my right hand on her thigh while massaging the back of her neck with my left. She finally responds with a soft moan and turns away from me to expose her practically bare back. Her lily-white skin is smooth and flawless but I can feel that her back muscles are still a bit tense. I knead her shoulders with extreme gentleness and care. Years of practice pay off she finally begins to loosen up underneath the tender prodding of my fingertips. I lean closer and breathe gently on her tender neck before following through with little kisses on her nape. Again, the gentle moan escapes her throat as I my hands seek out to caress her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. My chest is resting against her back now as I press my teasing lips behind her ears. The hairs on the back of her neck are starting to stand on end and her soft sighs assure me that she is becoming aroused. I can even feel her nipples harden underneath her silky material.
Cupping her pert little breasts in my hands I gently lift her to her feet. I press my groin against her shapely ass so that she is well aware of the hard-on stirring underneath my pajama pants. I wrap my left arm around her torso with my forearm grazing the undersides of her breasts. With my left hand I begin rolling the straps of her dress down her shoulders while nuzzling her neck. She begins to sway in my grasp slightly, succumbing to the sensations.
Her gentle swaying is making me more aware of my own hard-on. My prick is beginning to prod at her backside by now, but I keep her clasped tightly to me so she can feel the intensity building for herself. I slip my left hand down through the warm space between her breasts, causing her dress to fall down about her waist. I tease her nipples by tracing gentle circles around her aureole before gently cupping her breasts and squeezing the hard ripe nipples themselves. This time she gasps before moaning even more loudly.
Slowly but certainly, our swaying motion with the added pressure of my groin against her hips is moving us steadily from the bed to the soft couch near the window which over-looks a lush green wooded area. By the time we reach the couch I have my left arm around her waist while my right hand caresses her belly, eventually sliding down into her dress. My fingertips encounter lace and silk instead of downy pubic hair. But I can detect a faint hint of moisture through the cloth.
I nudge her forward until she has little choice but to sit on her knees and grip the high back of the couch with her hands. I place my hands on the backs of her supple thighs and slide them up and over her smooth, toned buttocks, riding her dress up to reveal the G-string of silky material still blocking my view of her sex. While my hands are resting on her hips I slide them back down to her thighs, relieving her of her panties in the process.
Her pink slit is indeed glistening with moisture. I glide my finger over her tingling love lips before slipping a finger deep inside. She gasps and then shudders as I slide my finger forward to find the hot knob of her clit. I bend down and repeat the sequence with light kisses and a prodding tongue. This time she squeals with delight.
By this time my prick is so stiff it's beginning to ache. I slide my own pants down and start rubbing my cock gently up and down the crease between her buttocks. Since she hasn't actually seen my dick yet, let her imagination inform her how much bigger my seven inches are. I rub the length of my shaft against her slowly, so as to emphasize the extreme length of my dick in her mind's eye. In the meantime, I'm kneading her plump breasts with my hands as I blow gently down the nape of her neck. In a husky, commanding voice she whispers, "Take me from behind."
My scrotum is still tickling her sex and my own organ is beginning to tingle just a bit. Now comes my favorite part. I place the tip of my penis against her open vulva and watch myself slowly begin to sink into her, millimeter by millimeter. Make her think that just when I couldn't possibly sink into her any further, there's even more to come. I continue to tease her breasts with my fingertips, making sure all of her pleasure centers are given the proper attention. When there's only about an inch of space left between my balls and her pussy, I suddenly buck into her, my balls slapping gently against her cleft. She cries out in ecstasy as the base of my dick comes in contact with her clit. I rear back until I'm almost half way out and buck into her again, full tilt. I grasp her hips and repeat this maneuver several times, always pressing upward as well as forward. Groans erupt from her throat in short bursts as she climaxes. I increase my speed with wild abandon and a second later I'm spewing seed deep into her womb. For a split second my cock becomes the nerve center of the universe as I let out a yelp of my own.
I keep pumping until my dick starts going limp. I pull out of her with one long luxurious motion. I cup her ample breasts in my hands once again to lift her to her feet. I nuzzle her neck and tell her what a lovely time I had. I help her move her panties back into place, lifting the straps of the G-string until the silky patch of material cradles her cunt snugly, eliciting yet another moan and a sigh. Then I slip the rumples of her dress back into place. I tell her to relax and get some rest while I go take a shower.
I step into my fair-sized shower stall, turn the hot water onto a fine mist setting, and close the semi-transparent shower curtain. My client still has about half an hour left before her session officially comes to and end. I find that those who enjoy the first round usually come back for more, even if only to get their money's worth.
I can sense movement on the other side of the curtain. I can hear my client removing her garments and tossing them on the bed covers. I can see the exquisite shapes of her lovely white legs through the steamy haze of the curtain. She is slowly removing her stockings, placing one foot on the edge of the bed and then the other. Her lithe body strolls over towards me. She brazenly pulls the curtain aside and asks me if I would mind some company. She is completely in the buff so I lift a large bar of soap off the bath tray and invite her in.
Her nipples are pink and perky. I guess I wasn't really in a position to notice last time. Her firm breasts point upward slightly, inviting a caressing touch. I offer to lather her up and she complies by stepping closer and sliding her nimble hands around my buttocks. I massage her upper chest with the soap, letting the lather drip down between her breasts and collect atop her pubic mound. I reach behind her and lather her back, teasing her by rubbing lower and lower. I can just picture the lather oozing down her butt crack.
By now her entire torso is wet and slippery. She takes the bar of soap out of my hand and repeats my movements, starting with the chest, massaging my stomach and back with erotically languid movements. She lets the lather wash down my rear end but then drops the soap so she can run her exploring fingers to and fro over my ass-cheeks and thighs. This time I'm the one who's sighing. I give her backside the same treatment, her firm thighs and buttocks slippery and undulating beneath my hands.
She pulls me closer until our bodies mesh in a squishy, squiggly embrace. She starts putting strategically placed little kisses on my neck and shoulders. I can't help but squirm with pleasure and our bodies slip and slide against each other in new and exciting ways. My cock is in an undecided state of hardness/softness limbo. But as we continue to clutch at each other's buttocks, she starts that special little swaying motion of hers again, rubbing her pussy into my groin. I can feel my dick begin throb and swell against her already sensitive membranes.
She steps back a bit to take my cock in her hand. She gently but firmly caresses my shaft up and down, her soapy hands adding an interesting ingredient to the friction. Soon I have a full-blown hard-on and her eyes widen in anticipation. I can't tell if she's surprised at how big it is, or how much smaller it is compared to the one she imagined when I was bucking into her just a few moments ago. The recent memory stirs my loins as I start playing with her lovely breasts, her pink, hard nipples showing through the foamy lather. I carefully nip and lick at her taut little nerve receptors, eliciting a gratified moan. Now she is cradling my balls in the palm of one hand while applying constant pressure up and down the length of my cock with the other.
I can see her red ripe clit peeking out from beneath her luscious folds. I slip my hand leisurely down her stomach and, starting at the base of her sex, glide my lathered finger upward until it barely brushes against her clit. The second or third time of this, she cries out in the heat of passion.
I sink to my knees on the soft shower mat, my cock sliding out of her slippery grasp. I grab her around the waist, guiding her downwards, until my dick is poised at the mouth of her opening. Suddenly, I let my arms relax, dropping her onto my lap. She lets out another cry of joy as her cunt envelops me to the hilt, her clit rubbing against my pubic bone.
She straddles me, rocking up and down, riding me like the steed that I am, applying friction against her clit until she comes explosively. Since we're both on our knees at the moment, actual thrusting leverage is at a minimum, so my cock is still rock hard inside of her. She continues rocking, more slowly at first, but then rising to a second orgasm. She is leaning back, her arms still clasped around my neck, practically dragging me down on top of her.
I had been playfully squeezing her butt cheeks, but now I wrap my arm around her, using the other arm for leverage as I lean down to let her head rest on the bath mat. She has to lift her knees up and place her feet at the back of the stall in order to lie flat in the confined area of the shower booth. I am still on my knees but I spread my legs as flat as I can, grabbing her by the buttocks, lifting her pelvis a little to keep our organs aligned.
Her breathing is heavy and labored now. Her eyes widen again and start to mist over as she takes the opportunity to look long and hard at the spot where our organs are grinding together. To put on a bit of a show, I pull out a ways so she can see me disappearing inside of her on my next thrust. But just before I start to pump into her, she spreads her legs a little wider and arches her back. So when I slam into her, I sink in even further than I had thought humanly possible. I let out a throaty grunt and keep right on grunting, pumping faster and faster on the way to mental oblivion. Her tits bounce happily with each and every thrust. She mutters at me to pump harder and harder but I'm not even listening anymore. When I climax the whole world seems to spin and I try to keep on pumping despite the dizziness. She is wailing incoherent gibberish as she shudders so hard I almost lose hold of her slippery buttocks. I realize that for the first time in years I am climaxing with a client simultaneously. I can't even remember the last time that happened.
My passions spent, I want to kiss her fully on the lips and delve my tongue through her teeth to let her know how much I appreciated the short time we've spent together. But kissing a client on the lips is strictly forbidden. In a way I'm almost glad, or I'd yearn even more to follow her out the door of my cubicle. To be able to go and live with this wonderful woman, to help raise her children. But then I remember that men usually aren't allowed to see their children until they're all grown up and have completed their ideological schooling. That's how the State nips the "oppressive male patriarchal tendencies" of society in the bud.
So I resist the natural urge to kiss her passionately and turn on the rinse cycle in the shower instead. We disengage as I help her to her feet. We help each other rinse off the remaining soapy residue clinging to our bodies and give each lingering caresses, savoring the intensity of the moment. Air vents in the wall blow us dry as the rinse cycle completes its circuit.
We both step out of the booth and start putting our clothes back on. Both of us deliberately avoid looking at the other. She swears under her breath as she notices the timepiece on the wall and remarks that she's going to be late for another appointment.
I remind her to think of my owner's agency if she ever wishes to conceive again (my owner gets after me if I forget to remind them). My client chuckles and says that if her pregnancy tests turn out negative she'll be back for more, but probably not for me. I tell her that I understand and bid her farewell.
The door to by cubicle clicks shut and the lock chimes. I am alone. Completely and utterly alone. I sigh and lay back on the bed, thinking how she was the most cooperative customer I've had in weeks. I wonder if her child will look like me. I'll probably never know. I miss her. But then, I have two clients scheduled for tomorrow. Another day, another adventure. Maybe. I'd better get some rest. I'm going to need it.
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