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Standalone scene. Part 15 of my Diary of a sperm donor series. This series is set in a dystopian future where 90% of men lost the ability to procreate. This is the story of an ex soldier who can still spread his seed…
—
After a solid minute of staring at me, I ask if you are okay. You answer by smashing your lips against mine before dragging me all the way into my bedroom.
I don’t question it, nor do I stop you.
Perhaps it's the pent-up sexual energy that's been sizzling between us like an electric current, that makes your clothes come off way faster than mine do. I don't care what it is...all I know is that I need this.
And that I want you.
I've wanted you since the day I made you laugh for the very first time.
And now we’re here. Making out, removing the last pieces of clothing. I explore every curve of your body, your waist, your hips, your soft little tummy. You open your thighs in invitation, so I pull them open and press my lips to the smooth fabric of your panties. You suck in a shallow breath when I kiss your hidden folds. I take my time with you. Make you writhe, squirm, moan, and whimper. This is what I’ve been dreaming of. I know every move I want to make. How I want you to soak your panties first before I even think about entering you.
You lift your hips to meet my lips. Then your fingers slide into my hair, gripping tightly. My hot breath cascades across your panties. You whine and buck. I can taste your juices through the fabric. It feels like velvet...
That’s when I know you’re ready.
Panties off. I climb on top of you.
There you are…naked, in my bed. Me, on top, and you underneath me. I don’t remember the last time I felt nervous before sex. This is it. I just don’t want us to do something we might regret.
So I ask, “You sure?” You nod to reassure me.
You rest your hands on my hips when I look down between us to line us up. I place my cockhead between your folds and then focus on your face again. As soon as I push forward, your eyes fall shut and your expression turns tense. All I’m focused on is the way you feel. Whether it’s pleasure or pain.
When you grimace more, I stay still inside you. I let you adjust to the intrusion before I add some more pressure. Your hands rush from my hips to my lower stomach. Eyes wide open.
“It’s been…years,” you whisper.
Years.
I nod and lower myself down onto my forearms. Nose to nose. Lips to lips. Eyes locked. I continue moving. Slow, small strokes to open you up. Your hands on my lower stomach ease off, and your legs open wider. I can’t stop looking at you. So beautiful. So precious.
With the next stroke, you let out a little whimper. You’re way tighter than I thought.
”It’s been…years.”
Then, finally, your eyes close and your body seems to relax. You’re letting me in. All I do is shift my weight to penetrate you deeper. Your toes curl, then point…until—
You gasp.
I’m all in. Balls deep.
I feel your hands on my shoulders, nails digging in. Only now do I start to drive in and out of you. Halfway in, halfway out. I roll my hips in wave-like motions. This doesn’t feel like fucking. This is different: our souls are connecting. We stare into each other’s eyes until I claim your lips with mine. It’s the longest, deepest, most gentle kiss I’ve ever experienced. One kiss turns into a never-ending string of kisses. I pick up the pace of my thrusts and with each forward glide, my cockhead nudges your cervix. Your hands are warm and soft when they frame my face. Thumbs on my cheeks, forehead to forehead. When we unlock our lips, our inhales and exhales sync and mingle. Your body has submitted to mine. Pliable and open. Letting me slide in and out with ease.
Your guard is down, and so is mine. I want this moment to last forever.
With your feet on the bed, your back arches into me, so whenever I grind forward, your clit rubs up against me. Those dark pink lips part in pleasure with each thrust. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, no, plead. You’re getting there. You’re close…
So I slip my right hand under your waist, sit back, and pull you with me onto my dick. This way there’ll be more pressure on your clit. Your eyes widen as you wrap your hands around the back of my neck. You start to grind. Harder, faster…you’re chasing that orgasm.
We both are.
With your eyebrows pulled together, and your lips parted, you reach your peak sooner than I expect. Your insides clench tight even before you let out a loud, sharp cry. The contractions of your walls feel like you’re milking me; it takes all of my willpower not to lose it right then and there.
“Fuck,” I exhale the word. I have to pull out if I want to stop myself from coming inside you. “Shit, I’m gonna—“ I gasp, eyes squeezing shut. I am about to pull back from your clenching pussy when your hand tightens around the back of my neck. My eyes snap open just in time to meet yours. I can feel myself straining; the ache inside my balls is getting unbearable.
“Come,” you whisper with our eyes locked. But… you don’t want kids. "Come inside me."
My jaw clenches at my inner conflict. And then...then you shift your hips forward, making me lose my last bit of willpower. My load bursts free from deep inside my balls, spurting into you from what feels like thick, long strands of semen. My grunts and growls are deep, almost painful sounding. My balls tighten over and over again, like all my body wants to do is pump you full of my DNA. The sensation overwhelms me so much I tip my weight forward, causing you to drop back down onto the mattress with me on top of you. My cock is still throbbing, so is the pulse inside my ears. Fuck...
With my face buried against the side of your neck, I finally empty my balls inside you. I can feel your arms wrap around me; you’re holding me. “It’s okay,” you whisper in my ear. Your voice is soothing my mind into a thoughtless flow state. I collapse my weight on top of you, pressing all the way into that squishy pool of come against your cervix. I rest my lips against your shoulder, tasting the salt on your skin and smelling your scent. You scratch my hair lightly, holding me close. Your insides squeeze around me again, making me chuckle deliriously.
After I’ve returned to the land of the living again, I say, “I thought you didn’t want to have—“ kids.
“I don’t,” you reply softly. You know exactly what I mean. “But if it happens, it happens.”
I lift myself up to study your expression. I’ve never seen you so peaceful. You might get pregnant…you might carry my baby. The idea does my head in. I close my eyes and rest back down on top of you. I don’t want to pull out; I want to stay inside you as long as possible. Because, deep down, I want my seed to take. And I want you to be the mother of my child.
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