I am always happy when Harry deposits a healthy dose of semen. When he was thirty seven, his ejaculations all of a sudden stopped shooting off the way they used to and instead labored in forced spasms to ooze out a few lazy drops. The doctor said that it was natural and to be expected as part of the aging process, although he did express surprise that it was happening at a relatively early age.
The taste of his semen, however, didn't change much: still salty with a tinge of the same smell I found in his armpits. I used to drink his semen regularly. We used to mix it with oil and vinegar and produce a concoction for salad dressing, and since he masturbated every single day at least once, we always had a good supply of semen dressing in our fridge. When his ejaculations weakened, we stopped collecting his sperm for dressing, but I still occasionally took licks of his semen, if nothing else, for old time's sake and to show him that I still craved his loins.
When I mentioned to my lady friends that I regularly drank my husband's semen, they all had the same reaction: disgust.
"You mean you have never tasted your husband's sperm?" I asked incredulously.
They shook their heads in astonishment, wondering if it was they and not I who was behaving unnaturally.
"You should try it," I added, laughing confidently, knowing that by dismissing their astonishment so casually I would make them feel as if they were the ones who were wrong.
"But it is dirty," they would answer, wincing.
"There is nothing dirty about it. If you are afraid of germs, just squeeze some lemon juice on the sperm and slurp it up like you were eating oysters. Besides," I added, "it is well known to keep your Chi very strong."
