Animal Husbandry

I met my wife in college. We were in a coed swimming class, and she was the most stunning beauty there. A slender body with a round butt, and a pair of world class breasts. Big, round, no business on a body that slender. And I knew I would be wearing a jock under my swim suit that semester. I mean, she was stiffy material from the word go.

So, one day, a couple of weeks into the semester I found myself standing next to her, waiting a turn for laps, and I started a conversation by introducing myself. "I'm Tom."

She smiled at me, her eyes blue and flashing, and said, "Kendra."

"So, what are you studying?" Seemed like a safe line.

"Animal husbandry."

I almost blew it right there, I almost said, 'Oh, looking for an animal husband?' But I caught myself, realized she must have heard that line a zillion times, and instead I said, "Man, you must have heard that husbands are animals a zillion times."

It wasn't good, but it wasn't the tired thing she had already heard, so we talked, and we ended up at lunch that afternoon.

"So how did you get into animal husbandry?"

"Grew up on a farm," she said, her red lips devouring a hamburger. "Watched animals breed, and it was interesting."

I sliced a chili cheese dog with a plastic knife, ate a bite, and thought about her words. I was a bit surprised at what she said next.

"I used to watch the animals have sex, and then I had to do things like artificial insemination, and-- "

"With animals?" I asked.

She nodded, smiling at the look on my face. "You don't know anything about harvesting sperm or insemination or anything like that, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not a single thing."

"Well," Kendra began, "Bulls were my favorite. You insert a probe into the rectum give a small electric stimulation and the bull dribbles out his-- "

She began laughing then, at the silly look on my face, at the way I had frozen my mouth with a forkful of chili cheese dog hovering in front.

"This really is new to you?"

I closed my mouth and nodded.

"Does it make you horny?"

I blinked. And, it was true, I had gotten an instant erection."Well, I, uh-- "

"It does," and she leaned forward and touched my hand. "Oh, we're going to have fun!"

From that moment on we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We went to classes together, we ate lunch together, and we started hanging out at each other's apartments.

And we started making out, but it was not your normal making out.

She would show up at my apartment, her lips a bright red, breathing heavy, and we would listen to music and talk, and cuddle on the couch and watch TV, but we wouldn't kiss much.

she would let me touch her, fondle her breasts, even rub her vagina through her jeans, but we wouldn't kiss.

Instead, she would get close to me, our faces inches apart, and she would lick her lips and watch my eyes.

I would get rock hard, in her hands as often as not, and then she would lick my lips, or get so close the skin brushed, but almost by accident.

A few weeks of this and I was hornier than I had ever been. I was walking around leaking, and she would often smile and eye the bulge in my pants, and grin when there was a trace of wetness there.

So I jacked off. You can't blame me. The build up with no release, a long shower, and I was relieved.

But she immediately noticed. She noticed that I had lost the edge, that I wasn't quite so rapt, that I wasn't as 'in' to her as I had been the night before.

"Did you masturbate?" Her face was an inch away, taking up my whole world. And we had reached such a state of honest intimacy that I nodded without embarrassment.

"How much sperm did you lose?"

An odd way to put it.

"A lot," I answered.

"How much?"

"I don't know. Hard to measure. It was in the shower and it just sort of drained away."

My pun wasn't appreciated, and she frowned. "I need to know how much sperm you lost."

"Well, I, uh-- "

"Don't jack off any more."

"Well, uh.. you know... we never do it, and you are the hottest thing I have ever seen in all my lifetimes, and, uh... "

She frowned. "Yes, there is that."

"So you understand that I-- "

"Nope. Can't happen. No more jacking off."

We sat there, staring at each other, at impasse, and then she said, "So let's fuck."

I started to say something, but what was there to say? My dream had just come true!

"After all, we really should be fucking. I like fucking. I can assume you like fucking... " an unstoppable and silly grin filled my face, "and we need to do this before we really get into anything serious."

"Serious?" I tilted my head. I was already so fucking serious about her it hurt.

"Sure," she kissed me then, a big smacker, and then continued, "I mean, what if you fuck me then lose interest?"

"How could I-- "

She interrupted me, "If it's not love, then the guy loses interest after sex."

"Oh."

So she stood up, took my hand and led me into the bedroom.

Now, I had just masturbated, but there was no way I was going to say no. Besides, even having just squirted, as I said, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in the whole fucking universe.

She pulled off my clothes, inspected my member for girth and length, even measuring it with her fingers - I almost came right then - then pulled off her own clothes.

Man, she was Aphrodite. I had seen her in an ugly swim suit that girls were required to wear in swim class, and even then she was spectacular. I had slithered my hands over her flesh, and it was perfection, even in the darkness and through clothes. But to see her naked... magnificent.

No excess rolls, just hard muscle curved in just the right way. And she mentioned that she liked to take care of her body.

I kissed every inch of her, devoured her valley until she moaned, worked my way around those incredible mammaries, and kissed her deeply, ever so deeply.

And she kissed me back, and felt my body, every inch of it, as if measuring every muscle, and estimating how much that muscle would contribute to the great push we were about to do.

And she gripped my rod with both hands, and began working it. And she watched my face closely.

It wasn't long until I was on edge, and she backed off.

"GAWD!" I moaned. I wanted to throw her down and ravage her.

She grinned, began working me again.

And again and again.

Up to the point of climax, and back again. Up and back, up and back.

And, finally, even though I had squirted before I had come over, she took me all the way.

The world stopped, my vision turned to constellations, my whole body locked up, and she drained me.

For a long minute I just laid there, unable to move. Finally she cleared her throat.

I looked. She had tried to catch my sperm in her cupped hands, first one, then both as she relinquished her hold on my dick. But there was just too much.

"Did you really just jack off?"

I nodded.

"MY god! Do you know how much this is?" She held up her cupped and overflowing and dripping hands.

I shook my head.

"Well, let me just say that this is a lot. A real lot."

"Oh."

Then she leaned over me, parted her hands and placed them on my chest. My goo was warm and slithery, was going to get all over my sheets, but it didn't matter. She was leaning into me, her lips an inch from mine, her blue eyes swarming my world.

She didn't say anything, just watched, and a long minute passed, and then I couldn't help myself, I darted my head forward and kissed her. Long and deep, feeling the luxury of her soft lips on mine.

Then she pulled her head away and said, "You do love me."

And it was obvious that I did. I had squirted my brains out, and all I wanted to do was kiss her some more. To hold her. To feel her skin, to touch her golden hair, to gaze into her bluey blue eyes.

"Okay," she grinned, "My turn."

"What?" I wasn't being much of a conversationalist, but Kendra was just plain overwhelming me.

"You squirted, now I get to squirt."

I got up on my elbows and stared at her.

She went to the kitchen, came back with a glass of Coke and whiskey, gave it to me to sip.

"It's obvious you are a bull, and I have no doubt that I could get you to cum again. Take a big drink. Drain it so we can get to work."

I sipped half. It was good.

She explained, "You see, my problem is that men come too soon. And when I have a bull like you, well," she shrugged. "Finish it."

I chugged, the whiskey hit bottom and I felt warmth explode.

"So you will get drained, and when you are well drained then I will get the kind of fuck I need. And whiskey slows a man down."

She smiled as she placed the empty glass on the bedstand, then she squatted over me.

And, son of a bitch, I was suddenly hard again!

She wiggled down over me, and it was heaven all over again. I felt her moist warmth swallow me, touch every inch of me, squash my balls lightly with her cheeks.

She sat for a moment, felt her breasts and moaned, pulled her nipples and closed her eyes. Then she opened her eyes and looked down on me, leaned forward so our lips were so close, and she breathed, "Enjoy yourself, bucko, because I'm going to lock you up."

I couldn't help myself - I think it was the remark about locking me up - I began to thrust.

Up and down, up and down, watching her sit and massage her breasts, tweak her nipples, and moan and moan.

And I threw her over, balanced above her, and thrust forward. In and out. in and out. Sometimes slow and sometimes fast.

She held on to me, dug her nails into me, didn't open her eyes for the longest time, just luxuriated in the feeling of being penetrated, of having her walls stretched, of having her nerve endings rubbed into paradise.

Then we found ourselves in the doggie position, her bracing her hands on the bed with her face squashed up against the headboard, me pounding so hard I was dizzy, my muscles sore with effort, but unable to stop.

And, finally, she came.

She was more than a moaner, she was a screamer. I placed my hand over her mouth so the neighbors wouldn't think murder, and she bit it.

Thirty seconds she lay there, mouth open, whining her scream, then, like a wave breaks, she opened her eyes and collapsed.

And she lay there, unable to move, just breathing, touching me in a way that told me not to move, not to take my dick out of her.

Five minutes, while she came down.

I wanted to thrust some more. But I didn't. My dick was so hard it hurt. But I didn't move.

Finally, she pushed on me, and I slid out of her, hard as a titanium piston, wanting to come worse than I had ever wanted in my life.

We lay next to each other. Her sated, coming back to herself. Me pointing at the ceiling and with wide eyes.

Ten minutes, and she rolled over, grabbed my dick, talked to me with my dick in her hand.

"I'm going to get you a tube, lock that monster of yours up. Monster should be locked up, don't you think?" she giggled. "Then, when you think you can't stand it any more, I'll drain you, in a variety of ways, and then I'll fuck you. Think you could stand that?"

My dick was purple in her hand, I couldn't think, but I managed to nod my head.

So the semester progressed. She got me a little tube to lock my cock in, and she kept the key, and she tormented me into paradise.

A week or so of heavy petting, of feeling her, of getting her off with my hands, then she would drain me, and the first time it happened... the first time... I was never so blown away in my life.

I arrived at her apartment to find that she had placed a chair at the end of her sofa, and arranged pillows on it.

I was straining at the cage, it had been two week since I had come, with her coming five or six times while I grew hornier and hornier - seemed the more she came the more she was able to come - and I was feeling like my balls were as big as tennis balls, filled with sperm, incredibly sensitive to the touch.

Not being allowed to jack off, I was starting to learn about blue balls.

She directed me to lay down on the arm of the couch and place my head in the cushions on the chair.

My butt was in the air and my dick was dangling down, just behind the arm of the couch, not quite touching the seat of the couch.

"You're going to like this," she called from the kitchen.

She gave me an enema. Filled me up with water, made me sit for five minutes, talked to me while my bowels churned and begged to be allowed to let loose.

Then she had me run for the bathroom, and, after a quick shower, she had me back on the couch in the same position.

"Okay," she said, running a finger around my anus, "We need to grease you up, and you need to relax."

I did my best, but it was hard. When she slid a slender finger into my asshole my head was screaming.

Wrong! Wrong!

But she just kept working it around and around, in and out, and suddenly, I realized something: it felt good. A thousand thousand nerve endings, and they were all being titillated.

She took her finger out, almost in tune with my realization, and placed two fingers in.

In and out. Rimming. Her other hand tweaking my nipples, stroking my cock, hefting my balls.

And, three fingers.

Hey! I was getting into this!

Then she put something else in there.

I jerked in surprise.

"It's a tool for massaging the prostrate."

"My prostate?"

"Yes. A little pressure, some gentle massage, and you're going to start draining."

I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing.

After a couple of minutes it felt like I had to pee.

"Hey?"

"What?"

"I have to go to the bathroom!"

"You mean pee?"

"Yes!"

"So pee."

I resisted, but she just kept me there, soothing me, telling me it was all right.

"I'm going to pee on your couch!"

"That's okay. I've got a bowl under you."

"But it's pee! Not sperm!"

"No, it's sperm, not pee," she giggled.

So I let go. I was embarrassed for a moment, peeing on the furniture, but it actually felt good to let the pee go.

And, I kept peeing and peeing. It was probably only a minute, but it felt like ten. And the whole ten minutes it just felt so warm and good.

Finally, she extracted the prostate masssager. "There. All done."

She stood up and showed me the bowl. It was a cereal bowl, and it was half full of sperm!

"But... I thought I was peeing!"

"You were... peeing sperm." She went into the kitchen with the bowl. "Now head for the bedroom, I want to fuck."

I managed to get up, I wasn't sore, just so darned comfortable and warm all over that i was weak muscled, and headed for the bedroom.

She followed me in, laid me on my back, and began sliding herself down over my pole.

"Oh," I moaned. I was extra sensitive in the penis, and it was better than heaven. I began to move up and down.

She rocked back and forth, closed her eyes, squirmed around on me.

The odd thing was that I didn't feel like rocketing into her. There was no urgency. I was hard as I could be, but the sense of having to squirt was depleted. When she jacked me with her hand i still felt a bit of urgency. Even when I fucked her I felt urgency, but having had my brown cherry popped... I felt no urgency.

So she rocked, enjoyed herself, and eventually I flipped her and banged her, and turned her over and pumped her, and we went through every position in the book.

She kept holding on to me, and then she would come, and she would hold some more, and finally start moving again.

Multi orgasmic!

"When you pound hard I come hard," she told me. "When you move soft I don't feel the urgency, and I just start coming... and coming... and... .oh!" She locked up again, held on, let the orgasm wash through her. Then she started moving again.

We fucked for an hour. Me hard as a spike, unable to squirt, and not obsessed with squirting, and her just relaxed and enjoying orgasm after orgasm.

Finally, she was done. Finally, she pushed me away. Rolled over and said, "Don't forget to lock yourself up before you go."

I was tempted not to. To just go home and wait a bit and finally masturbate. But I still didn't have the sense of urgency. So I waited for the boner to subside, took a while but it did, and then I slid the tube over my cock and locked it. I left the key on the kitchen table and went home.

And that was how it started, a decade ago.

Now we are married, and every day is a dream. We run a feed store, have a sideline of selling bull semen - very profitable, that - and I worship her. Sometimes I fuck her, sometimes I am drained, sometimes I am made to suffer the pleasure of not being able to come for weeks at a time.

And she has the oddest habit of measuring my output, of putting my sperm in a beaker and writing down how much I have squirted.

Then the sperm goes into the fridge, where it waits to be made into delicious milkshakes we both enjoy.

We are healthy, happy, strong as oxen, and are looking forward to 60 or 70 years of this bliss. And our only wish is that the rest of the world could understand this, enjoy this.

Believe me, there would be no wars if men were properly drained.

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Page last updated 2015-Nov-28 by: Altairboy@aol.com