Anthony set a fresh Manhattan in front of me and said, "From the lady at the end of the bar..." He eyed me for a few moments with his bushy brows raised in a silent apology, wiped his hands on a bar towel and stepped away. I stared at the drink, refusing to make eye contact with the woman. A movement in the big mirrored bar-back caught my eye. I grimaced as I watched her approach tentatively, pausing once to check her phone-- to verify I was the man she was looking for, I guessed.
A few moments later there was a feminine touch on my shoulder as the woman sidled into the stool next to me. "Hey, beautiful. Do you mind if I sit here?" she cooed.
"Not interested," I said casually, hoping she would just go away. She stayed anyway.
"Oh, come on, honey. This hen has a basket full of eggs but just needs a little more... cock," she said with a well practiced giggle.
Not bothering to comment on her chicken metaphor, I glanced at her, shook my head and said again, "Not interested."
Undeterred, the woman pulled down the front zipper of her micro-dress, exposing fleshy, powdered melon tops. The diamond rings on her fingers glittered in the bar lights as she pulled her boobs apart to better arrange them on their fabric sling. She had a silver winged penis, dangling between her tits. Charming.
Abruptly, she reached out and yanked at my shoulder saying, "C'mon, sweet-dick, let's go make some babies."
I shook her hand off my shoulder, swiveled on my stool and scowled. Her steel blue eyes and pouty red lips, along with her impressive decolletage, might have tempted me to take her to a back room--but, in another time and age. Not tonight. I watched her legs spread a bit wider, hiking that dress up even higher.
She reached out to grab my crotch, perhaps thinking an earnest show of appreciation might entice me.
I swatted her hand away.
"Fuck... me..." muttered my buddy Peter from the bar stool behind me, shaking his head with an equal measure of disgust and wonder.
I glanced over my shoulder and chuckled. "That's a good idea," I said, "Fuck HIM!"
The woman peered around me and eyed my friend warily. Pete is six foot two, clean-cut blonde with a broad, well-muscled chest and arms as thick as fence posts. He preened on his stool to better exhibit his physique and smiled seductively. But, she wasn't buying. She blinked twice and her face turned sour. She made an indignant sound as she clomped away awkwardly on thick, too-tall heels.
Pete nudged my back and said, "Hey, what'd she say?"
I turned to him and said, "I believe she said 'Harrumph.'"
The novelty of my situation wore off long ago.
A century of climate change, solar flares and junk food had conspired to drop human reproduction into the basement, or so they said. Religious folks said it was the end of days. Scientists said 'we told you so.' Politicians said it was all a hoax and would pass in time. But we weren't so lucky. Human sperm counts HAD dropped and were now genetically fixed near zero.
Except for a few of us.
Some of us still had potency to spare. We were measured, tested, and wore the USDA stamp of approval on our chests, marking us as Grade A prime breeding stock. My friend Pete could fuck any woman all day long, purely for pleasure, but for me it was serious business. I was government-certified, guaranteed to impregnate; and every woman wanted a piece of me. (After all, it WAS their patriotic duty.) Sex wasn't a game anymore, at least not for me.
"It's just not fair," whined Pete.
"Awe, jeez, man!" I said, rolling my eyes. "Don't start with that again."
"I don't think I want to be your wing-man any more," Pete mewled. "You weren't very nice to that woman. You chased her away!"
"Listen up, bud," I said. "Did you see she was wearing a borrowed dress that is a size too small and a decade too young? She skipped the small talk and went straight for the punchline. Maybe she's been coached, maybe she saw that in a how-to video, but either way, she was NOT looking for companionship. She just wanted fifteen loveless minutes with me for free. Fuck that!"
I could feel the flush in my face and my blood pressure rising, so I splayed my fingers on the bar and focused on a cocktail napkin. As my temper cooled, I looked over at Pete and saw a face both disappointed and nearly goofy drunk.
"So, I get it...." I continued with a sigh. "I know there are a lot of desperate women out there hoping to beat their biological clock, but I've done my duty. Holy crap! God knows how may kids I've fathered- probably hundreds, maybe thousands. I want to retire from the business and have some fun. I want a companion, some romance... maybe even love."
Pete hung his head and muttered, "Sorry, man."
A thick hand thumped on the bar as a man sat next to me. He ordered a drink from Anthony and opened his wallet to pay. He made a great show of pulling out a stack of hundreds and glanced over at Pete and me. "Let's have another round for my new friends here too!" he said to the bartender.
"The name's Patterson," the man said with a toothy grin as he held out his hand for me to shake.
"Nice to meet you," I said indifferently. Pete just waved without looking up from his beer.
Patterson looked left and then right before leaning over and whispering, "Say, I was wondering. Could I convince you to fuck my wife?"
I was late for my standing appointment at the Federal Semen Reserve Depository. Nancy, the extractor, had put on the wrong video and I found myself alone in the room watching two slippery hunks wanking each other off. Far from aroused, I could feel my cock shriveling in embarrassment.
The office door suddenly swung open and Nancy re-entered with a cheerful "How we doing in here?" She glanced down at my dick laying over on its side and scowled. Another look at video screen, and she knew exactly what had happened.
"Oh, I'm soooo sorry!" she said as her face flushed. She clicked the TV off with a remote and turned back to me. "It looks like we're gonna have to wake up the little man the old fashioned way." She smiled to reassure me, patted my hand and began her work.
With well-practiced motion, Nancy operated the padded table controls to lay me out flat on my back. She deftly belted my chest and secured my arms with padded cuffs. (All for security purposes, of course.) She yanked my pants completely off and shackled my legs at the knees and ankles. She adjusted the overhead light to illuminate my groin area, and stepped back to examine her preparations thoughtfully with her arms crossed.
Nancy then languidly removed her clothes, considerately folding each piece before setting it aside and moving on to the next. I didn't need to see what was happening between my legs, because by the time she was fully naked, I was fully aroused.
She bent over, opened a drawer to retrieve rubber gloves and made sure I could see her puffy pussy peeking out between her shapely thighs.
Nancy turned around to face me as she snapped on gloves, squirted lube into her palm, glanced at my erection, smiled. "Ah, that's better. Much better," she said.
"Uh. Is this...uh... normal?" I asked nervously.
"Oh," said Nancy, "We could put you to sleep and use electro-ejaculation, but I prefer to stick with the manual process. Since the video didn't work, I thought it might be quicker to do it this way."
"Oh, uh, OK." I said.
She moved in close and I could feel her cinnamon breath on my face and her breasts on my chest. "Besides," she said, "It's much more fun this way." Her eyes sparkled violet-blue and she had an impish grin as I felt her gloved hand wrap around my pecker. A few moments later, she straightened, dug her fingers under my balls and stroked me earnestly with her other hand.
The weight of her breasts had turned her nipples slightly outward. They were so compelling. I watched them sway until my sperm was discharged.
With the extraction complete, Nancy released my cock and snapped the lid on the sanitized container. She returned to the counter and picked up a marker to write donor information and a batch number on the paper label. Blissfully unbothered that she was naked, she bent over again to place my fresh semen into climate-controlled storage.
"Oh, my!" said Nancy as she popped up by my side and saw my still-erect penis.
"Uh... I'm sorry. I just. I just..." I stammered.
Nancy tossed her gloves into a waste bin across the room, but her eyes never left my cock. She bent over and examined my penis which still pulsed. A bit of semen oozed out and dribbled down the side of my shaft. She asked distractedly, "Should I?"
I wasn't sure if that was a question for me exactly, but I answered, "Yes."
Without another word, Nancy climbed up and swung her leg over my torso. She neatly inserted my cock into her vagina and sat smoothly down. She placed her hands on my chest and rocked her hips till her eyes rolled back into her head. Her lovely tits bounced in time till her body seized up and she reached orgasm.
And so did I. Again.
"And, then what happened?" asked Pete.
"Well, she said 'give me a minute' and then she went over in the corner and stood on her head," I replied.
"Naked?" he asked incredulously.
"Well,... yeah!" I admitted.
"Why'd she do that?" Pete asked.
"Fuck, if I know. Then, she got dressed and unbuckled my restraints. She walked me up to the front desk with my chart and said goodbye. And... that was it," I said.
Pete shook his head and said dejectedly, "Man, you have ALL the fun."
"Hey listen," I said. I lowered my voice and continued, "Don't tell anyone about this, because it might have been illegal."
"Say what?" he said.
"Well, unlicensed breeding in a state facility is technically against the law. And, I'm not sure if you would call this intentional or accidental, but I'm pretty sure..."
"Oh man," said Pete shaking his head.
I took a sip of water from my plastic bottle, and smiled to myself. Nancy the extractor was unexpected. I had more fun than I thought. I might even come early next time.
We both stared out at the lake across the bike path, watching dragon flies buzz across the water. It had taken almost 13 miles to tell Pete that story, so it felt good just resting in the shade for a few minutes. A warm breeze rustled the leaves over us and a distant rhythmic crunch of foot falls wafted through the air.Pete absently flipped the pedal on his bike and we both peered down the trail.
Crunch, crunch, crunch...
A lone runner, a woman, was jogging up the path toward us. She ran gracefully through puddles of broken sunlight. I took another sip from the bike bottle.
Crunch, crunch, crunch...
A pretty girl, she was. As she got closer, Pete stopped fiddling with his bicycle and I forgot about my bottle. She had straight brown hair that swung back and forth, short red running shorts and a jogging bra. Her tanned legs stroked effortlessly up the path.
Pete nudged me and said, "Hey. Don't say anything, OK?" I nodded and turned again to watch the runner.
