index


Message-ID: <61712asstr$1321625462@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Sterling Smith <sterling27@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} The Father of Humanity (MF mf cons rom het ScFi harem poly 1st preg slow)
Lines: 1420
Date: Fri, 18 Nov 2011 09:11:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



Author: Sterling
Title: The Father of Humanity
Summary: The world mourns a fertility crisis: No baby has been
conceived in twelve years. Then one average teenage boy is
discovered who can father children. From slow and romantic
beginnings, his sex life gradually takes off to try to meet the
world demand.
Keywords: MF mf cons rom het ScFi harem poly 1st preg slow

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit sex.
 
First posted 12/28/2009, new header added 8/26/2010.
 
I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.
 
I have written many other stories and they can all be found at 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sterling/
 
You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire
text unchanged, including this notice.  If you tell me where
you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated
and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it.
 
Sterling
 
And now, our feature presentation.  Enjoy!
 
==================================================================

The Father of Humanity

I slowly woke.  She was snuggled up against my side, her hair a
bit disheveled, breathing softly.  It was still dark out. 
Delphia's smell was delicious, her sweetest charm.  I felt the
glow spread between my legs as my penis got harder with each
pulse of blood.  Still half awake, I turned on my side to face
her. She stirred a little and opened a sleepy eye.  I lifted her
top leg a little and she wriggled a little to adjust, so as I
pressed my pelvis upwards, my penis slid right into her warm,
wet, silky vagina.  It felt like heaven.  I pumped about ten
times, faster each time, and felt my semen shoot into her as a
pleasant, sleepy orgasm took over my brain.  I stayed pressed
inside for a few more seconds, watching her smile at me sleepily,
and then slid out and onto my back.  She kissed me briefly on the
nose as she got up and padded to the bathroom.  I heard the
brief, gentle whirring hum as I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke next, it was light.  Kathy was the woman beside me
now, dozing, but she awoke easily.  She was naked, and had about
as perfect a body as I could imagine.  I kissed her and brushed
my hand along her cheek, down over her right breast, through the
curve of her belly to her pubic mound, and sliding over the top I
massaged her labia gently, my penis hardening.  Her breath caught
and she flushed a little and she smiled.  In all of ten seconds
she grew restless, spreading her legs wide apart, but I teased
her a little.  I kept rubbing slowly instead of rolling on top of
her.  Her breathing conveyed desire and readiness, and as the
seconds went on she stuck out her tongue at me.  Then I laughed
and rolled over on top of her and as I pressed forward and down
her fingers guided my penis into her again.  I thrust about four
times and she cried out softly with an orgasm.  I could feel her
vagina pulsing.  I kept thrusting, and after a minute she
shuddered as another one came over her.  I started thrusting more
urgently, and as I pressed in as far as I could go, I shuddered
too as I came way up inside her, and she came too.  I collapsed
on top of her, feeling lazy.  My weight wasn't really on her, but
after ten seconds she started gently trying to get out from under
me.  I raised my head to look at her and sighed, though we both
smiled.  So I rolled off as she got up and went into the
bathroom.  That whirring hum again as I dozed off.

When I came to after a few minutes she was gone.  I took a few
steps to the bathroom, and after my morning urination looked in
the mirror.  My name is John Smith.  I look about fifty, an
average man with an average man's body.  I lifted my penis to
look at the scrotum underneath, with two ordinary-looking
testicles hanging innocently within.  Ordinary-looking, but the
very future of the human race.

On the counter was the device.  It consisted of a handle and at
right angles to it a smooth plastic cylinder with rounded end,
about the width and length of a small penis, with small openings
all along it.  Protruding from the spot where the handle met the
cylinder was a glass vial about the size and shape of a C cell
battery.  Many empty vials stood on the counter.  My eyes drifted
to the wall, where there was a trough with a glass cover.  I took
out the empty glass vial and put it in the trough.  When I closed
the cover, there was a barely detectable whooshing sound as the
vial disappeared.  During the night, as I was drifting off to
sleep to the sound of the quiet whirring, Delphia had put the
cylinder up in her vagina, where it gently collected the fluid
from inside her.  She had then removed the vial with its little
blob of milky liquid and put it into the wall.  Kathy did the
same thing a little later.  My semen was on its journey to
replenishing humanity.

---------------
The beginning

I was only two years old when it happened.  Human reproduction
ceased; women no longer became pregnant.  Pre-natal clinics
noticed it first, as there were no new appointments being made,
and within a few months its worldwide scope became clear. 
Scientists found that the problem was at the moment of
fertilization.  They put together in a petri dish donor eggs,
looking just as usual, and sperm, looking and acting just as
usual.  The sperm swam vigorously and pressed against the egg,
but they just never penetrated it.  Everyone hoped at first that
it was a passing curiosity, that science would understand it and
fix it.  But as time passed and those hopes were not realized, a
profound unease set in.   Life continued much as it had before --
what else could people do?  Church attendance was up.  Plenty of
righteous preachers swore it was vengeance from God for sinful
living, though there was little chance to feel superior, as all
groups were affected.

Attitudes towards sex softened.  Many people hoped that they
might be a part of solving the worldwide infertility problem. 
Everyone stopped using contraception.  Established couples
stepped up their sexual activity.  Single people began sleeping
with each other with less caution.  Gay men and lesbians
discovered latent bisexual tendencies.  Teenagers became more
active, and children who had barely begun puberty started
experimenting as a matter of course.  There were epidemics of
STDs which dampened enthusiasm to some extent.  A new kind of
condom was developed with a hole in the end to let semen out
instead of keeping it in.  This did little to protect the woman,
but it did protect the man quite well, and as fewer and fewer men
were infected women got fewer infections from them.

The only source of new babies was the embryos that had been set
aside for later implantation as part of fertility procedures. 
There were several thousand of them in the US.  The government
seized them.  They would now be implanted in the most fertile
women available, to maximize the chances of success.  It was a
matter of vigorous debate just how fast to use them.  They did
deteriorate with time, but the later in the future these babies
were born, the greater the chance they could still be fertile if
a cure was found in the future.

I lived with my parents and an older brother in Secaucus, New
Jersey.  I started going out with Amy when we were both fifteen.
We were both shy, neither particularly popular, and we got a late
start on sex.  Our dates featured some talking and walks, but it
was the end of the evening I was really looking forward to.  The
first date ended with a kiss.  She invited me to her room on the
second date, but that did not end with going all the way.  She
was happy for me to fondle her breasts, but activity below the
waist was limited to the outside of her jeans.  On the third date
she took her jeans off, and I was terribly excited putting my
hand down the front of her panties.  She was clearly excited --
as for me, I got an erection each time as we were walking up the
stairs to her room and never lost it in the hour we were making
out.

On the fourth date she was ready for intercourse, though as
virgins we were a bit clueless.  The tip of my penis got into her
hot and wet labial region, and I started penetrating her, but it
didn't go very far in.  In fact I came within about twenty
seconds of trying.  After consulting some books before the next
date, Amy realized she needed to tilt her pelvis up more so the
angles were right, and then my penis slid in all the way, to my
great relief.  I knew girls took longer to come, so I was proud
of myself for holding back so gallantly for a full two minutes,
by which time surely she had had a quiet little orgasm, but of
course I found out later that she hadn't.  I was ecstatic at
having gone all the way, achieving what I had been craving for
years.  After consulting more books and friends, she taught me
how to stimulate her with my hand, and hold back for a full ten
minutes so she did come, and I then let myself go and came within
a minute.

We had been exclusive from the start -- it was hard enough for me
to get up the courage to ask out even one girl.   For a few weeks
we met every evening for sex, but then the reality of other
commitments started intervening and we limited ourselves to
weekends and an occasional evening.  I soon started sleeping over
at her house, which was common enough and not a source of
particular concern to her parents.  When her period came we
abstained.

She missed a period three months later, and then missed another.
She started feeling sick to her stomach.  We didn't think much of
it, but just in case she went to the doctor to see what sort of
ailment she had.  Pregnancy was not on anyone's mind, since it
was in the category of a disease that had been eradicated -- a
dozen years before in this case.  The treatment plan for the time
being was to wait and see.  She missed another, and started
getting hungry, and started feeling irregular twitching in her
intestines.  This called for more careful ultrasound, and the
results were stunning.  A human fetus was distinctly visible, and
it moved, which was the twitching Amy felt. A dozen specialists
examined her, but the diagnosis when you see a baby is not really
so hard to make.  She was pregnant.

From the beginning of the missed periods we had kept quiet about
this, Amy especially wanting to avoid jokes at her expense at
whatever weird condition she had.  As soon as her condition was
confirmed, we were given discreet Secret Service protection, and
all agreed that our privacy was easier to assure if our
identities remained unknown.  Her mother's job mysteriously
transferred her to Stamford, Connecticut.  We were too bewildered
to object much to being separated, especially as her interest in
sex had disappeared and that was frankly the main bond we had.

Once Amy delivered her baby, she would be further tested and go
through many variants of the egg donor procedure to see if she
was the key to this miracle.  But my potential could be evaluated
much more quickly.  I provided a semen sample, and when mixed
with donor eggs it produced some embryos.  They were implanted in
carefully-selected women.  Some of them became pregnant. A brief
statement was released saying that three pregnancies had been
achieved in the US from the sperm of a single man whose identity
was being kept secret.  The brief announcement translated into
screaming headlines and tumult worldwide.  It provided a
much-needed sense of hope to a world which had not seen a newborn
baby in a dozen years.

My family was whisked off to Langley, Virginia.  I basically
never left the house we occupied; actually it was more a compound
than a house.  A large and shifting bunch of people were assigned
to help me, and I thought of them collectively as "the pros".  I
was grappling with what this new role meant for me and for the
world.  I happily provided semen samples, usually twice a day. 
This was masturbation with a noble purpose.  The doctors made the
most of the fluid I produced.  Hundreds of donor eggs were placed
in a single small jar, and my semen set loose among them.  Soon
my sperm was making two hundred embryos in a day, which were
carefully divided and implanted in two hundred young women of
peak fertility each day.  This was not going to solve the huge
demographic dislocation facing the world, but it was a start.

My father's and brother's semen was tested, as was that of more
distant male relatives. No embryos emerged now matter how many
gobs of their semen were put in with jars of eggs.  I was it. 
Amy was given lavish incentives later to have a great many
partners, on the chance that it was something about her that had
triggered my fertility and that she might trigger one of them,
but nothing came of that.

Then slowly my fertility started dropping.  I produced just as
many sperm as before, all as apparently healthy as before, but
they just weren't doing the job.  The number, density, and
quality of my sperm cells were not relevant measures of success.
What mattered was the number of embryos emerging from a
controlled sample of eggs and semen.  Various drugs were tried,
to no avail, and whenever there was an unpleasant side effect, my
fertility dropped to zero.

Humanity figuratively worshiped at my feet, which made me happy
but also gave a great sense of responsibility.  As my
effectiveness was dropping, I felt uneasy and couldn't always
provide the semen samples on demand.  The future of the world was
me, and I was failing.  The pros stopped telling me how effective
I was being, hoping that might help, but it didn't.  They then
tried lying to me, saying things were great, but the power of
positive thinking didn't help in this case.  When this subterfuge
later came out, I was quite upset and the embryo count also
dropped to zero for a while.  They promised they would not lie to
me again, and na�ve as I was at the time I believed them.  My
effectiveness returned to its previous anemic levels and
continued a gradual decline.

I was offered just about anything on earth that I wanted.  First
I wanted Amy back.  So she flew in to live with us in the
sprawling quarters my family and associated professionals were
now occupying.  She was just a little in awe of me.  She was part
of the magic first pregnancy, but I was the special one, or at
least the one who had been shown to be special.  She would do
anything I asked, but my tastes were pretty simple.  I loved sex.
 Penis-in-vagina sex.  She was quite far along, and we couldn't
have sex very well face-to-face over her large belly, but I could
mount her from the rear, doggy style.  I found that very exciting
at first.  My fertility from the semen samples had a large spike,
back almost to its peak.  Although I was delivering lots of my
sperm into Amy, I had quite a bit left over for samples.

But as hard as I was trying to give Amy pleasure and do things
the way she wanted, and as hard as she was trying to be OK about
it, I could sense that at some level she really wasn't.  Her best
attempts to lie turned me off.  I also had to admit that there
were some things that annoyed me about Amy, that we were not
going to live happily ever after.  My fertility went way down. 
We parted on good terms, and we expressed our genuine affection
and gratitude for what we had had together. After I stopped
seeing Amy my fertility started to rise again, but to nowhere
near its peak, and then it started sliding.

I was offered any type or combination of sexual partners I wanted
to replace Amy, but I didn't feel right about that way back then.
 I was very romantic, and I wasn't over Amy yet.  What else?  I
met a few of my favorite pro athletes, but found I really didn't
have much to say to them, nor they to me.  I thought of having a
couple friends come to visit, but they told me that the secrecy
of my identity was holding and no one in Secaucus knew it was me.
 So any friend I brought in would be unable to leave, at least as
long as my identity remained secret.  It was going to be hard to
relax and be spontaneous anyway, and that would make it
impossible.

I took a vacation in Hawaii, which was nice.  Chefs from five
star restaurants were brought in to cook for me, and some of it
was certainly good.  But I didn't have a particularly
discriminating palate, so to exaggerate just a bit it ended up
that my steak and potatoes was mostly just very high quality
steak and potatoes.

I wanted to stop living with my family.  The pros promptly
relegated them to a distant part of the complex, and said it was
their decision which I had grudgingly gone along with, so I
didn't have to own up to it.  Various of these things helped a
little, for a while.

We all suspected that my sex life would be key to this, and the
question was what might allow me most quickly to get over Amy and
on with my life (and, incidentally, saving the world).

-------------
Winnie

From the beginning the pros had made discreet inquiries about all
aspects of my life in their attempt to replicate whatever my
formula was for success.  Now, with an eye to getting my sex life
going again, they mentioned the names of three girls in my class,
the last of whom was Winnie.  I admitted that I had had a bad
crush on Winnie but she had given me the cold shoulder.  I told
them that if she was approached on my behalf I would feel so
humiliated I would probably never produce another viable sperm
cell again.  You can't buy love, and I didn't want a whore.

But among the pros were experts on the psychology of high school
students, and they had a plan I grudgingly went along with. First
they found a few of the cool guys who really had respected me,
though to them I was just a random guy who had moved away six
months before.  Through means I didn't quite understand their
respect was conveyed to Winnie in a way she found natural and
genuine.  A "new girl" in the school befriended Winnie and
somehow elicited what was to me the crucial information:  Winnie
did feel moderately positive about me.  Remembering me only as a
kid who had recently moved away, with no idea I was the most
important man on earth, she felt moderately positive about me.  I
saw it on video, and it set my mind at ease.  That's when the
pros moved in:  "Say, Winnie, how do you feel about moving to
Washington to see what you can do to cheer up the most important
person on earth?  No pressure, no pressure, though yes, well, the
survival of the human race might depend on your decision."

I met Winnie in the living room of my personal quarters.  She
wasn't the kind of person to be in awe of anybody, no matter how
famous.  She offered me a hug right away, which I eagerly
accepted, and neither of us let go right away.  I reached down to
let my penis assume the upright position it was straining for --
hey, my role had sunk in enough that I wasn't ashamed of
erections.  She didn't pretend not to notice, but laughed.  And
after a moment, she said, Well, why wait, and led me by the hand
to the bedroom.  All the power of my crush was surging back to
me, and I was nervous and excited.  She was pretty experienced by
then, so she was playful and I relaxed some.  We kissed, we
hugged, we shed one item of clothing at a time, I sucked her
nipples, I massaged her labia the way I had learned to do with
Amy, and Winnie matter-of-factly showed me how to stroke her
clitoris a little more directly.

Before long she was nudging me to get on top of her.  So I turned
over, kneeling down below her.  I looked at her dark brown hair,
her shoulders and delicate arms, her beautifully proportioned
breasts, her ribcage and then the dip to her stomach, and the
natural transition up to her public mound, covered with a modest
amount of dark hair, then I looked down to where her outer labia
were parted slightly, and as I watched she reached down to part
those labia more, revealing the inner set, the whole area
glistening.  I started leaning over to guide my penis into her,
then I looked up and saw her face, looking earnest and hungry,
and also smiling a little, the gorgeous face I had gazed at for
years, the one I had imagined countless times while masturbating.
 And just then a little blob of semen arched up over her body and
hit her on the upper lip, then a bigger spurt landed between her
breasts, and another one landed and started sliding into her
bellybutton.  I was nearly fainting from the intensity of the
orgasm, and from mortification.  She was startled and a little
flustered.  But then she said, "Well, I guess you do find me
sexy!".  As she started to speak the semen on her lip stretched
to her lower lip so she had a little strand of it across her
mouth.  When she realized that, she stuck out her tongue and said
with a smile, "It tastes just like ordinary sperm made by
ordinary guys".

But I collapsed onto my left side and she could tell I was
feeling embarrassed and humiliated.  She started to roll over to
comfort me, but the sperm started running off her, so she
stopped, and after a brief scan found the box of tissues beside
the bed, and took ten of them to clean herself off.  She reached
over to hug me and rocked me gently.  "I have absolutely no doubt
your aim will improve".  I started to feel better.  In ten
minutes she started to lightly stroke my flaccid penis, and it
responded.  We were facing each other, lying on our sides.  As it
got almost fully hard, she shifted just a little on the bed and
slid my penis into her before I knew what she was doing.  "Caught
you this time!" she said.  I thought that was funny.

She moved her pelvis so I was going in and out of her a little,
but I picked up the rhythm and started thrusting in earnest.  And
then I pushed her onto her back as I rolled on top of her.  And I
pumped, slowly at times, faster at others, up to the hilt.  After
ten minutes she had her own modest orgasm, and, happy to have
lasted long enough, I let myself go.  I thrust harder and deeper
ten more times and came myself in a wave of happiness way beyond
the mere pleasure of orgasm, spurting the little blob of semen up
into her vagina, Winnie's vagina, as I had dreamed of doing so
many times.

We showered, ate, talked, and got to know each other for real. 
We had sex again and slept.  I woke in the middle of the night
and caressed her and she started responding positively.  Half
asleep, I found her vagina and pressed into it, coming a few
strokes later.  She just laughed a little at that.  She was
hardly sexually frustrated, so a quickie now and then was not
going to be a problem.  We had sex in the morning.  From the
rear.  With her on top.  Standing up.  Sitting down. 
Mid-morning.  Mid-afternoon.  Two days, three days.  She was
having big orgasms now every time.  But after three days she also
admitted she was getting a little sore and maybe we should slow
down a little.  This was OK, because the pros were giving hints,
gentle at first and less subtle as the days went by, that they
would appreciate a semen sample.  The sample I gave wasn't all
that much liquid, since my body seemed to be conserving the stuff
for more alluring pastures, but the result was off the chart.  It
resulted in eleven hundred embryos.

We speculated later that if what I had spurted onto Winnie's face
and chest and stomach that first time had been captured and
processed using the most advanced methods, it would have produced
about 500,000 embryos.  All those sperm were left to wriggle
until they died within the folds of wabbed-up tissues.  But a
person could go crazy thinking like that.  I was just one teenage
boy, not a machine, and what we had learned so far was that to
produce well, I had to be happy.  Having Winnie as my willing
girlfriend and having sex with her made me very happy.  We
experimented with oral sex in both directions, but it didn't
appeal to me so much.  I was too grossed out by anal sex to even
want to think about it.  When asked what my favorite position
was, I said they were all great as long as I got to have my penis
inside her vagina and end by spurting up inside her.

The scientists wondered if they could take advantage of the semen
that was going into Winnie.  They mentioned condoms, and within
half a second I had said "No".  They knew never to raise that
idea again.  Winnie readily let them take a pair of her panties
to analyze the discharge that had oozed out onto them, and the
results were very promising.  They wondered if she would mind
trying a more intimate procedure, something that actually slid up
into her vagina to actively collect what was up there.  She was
game, and it gave good results.  I had just a twinge of jealousy
at the thought of something else sharing her vagina, but it
passed quickly.

What was collected from inside her turned out to give much better
results than a sample from masturbation.  Thus was born the
"whirrer", which used a gentle controlled suction to collect my
semen and whatever secretions of hers were up there too.  We
speculated that the results were so good because I knew I was
following my reptilian instincts to put semen in my mate, my
human instinct to make love to my sweetheart, and that I also
knew that I was providing a gift for all of humankind.  During
Winnie's period, she mostly lay beside me, nuzzling my ear and
gently stroking my priceless testicles while I masturbated.  The
embryo counts dropped to about half with that procedure, but that
wasn't so bad.

----------
An industry

After a few weeks of embryo counts that remained very high, about
8,000 per day, the scientists and politicians had a decision to
make.  They didn't know if the high counts would continue, but it
was worth the expense of assuming so.  Allowing for further
expansion in my capabilities, it was going to involve
construction of a sizeable complex wherever I was going to live.
They described the plan, which sounded OK to me.  Next, they said
I could pick just about anywhere I wanted to live.  They probably
would have razed half of Manhattan to make a palace for me if
that was truly necessary to keep my semen effective.  That's how
important the project was.  But still, it would help if I gave
some thought to a place I might like to live permanently.  Where
would I like to set up home base?  After careful consideration, I
chose a spot on the Front Range of the Rockies, not too far from
Boulder, Colorado.  A security perimeter was established. 
Engineers set to work.  I wanted to live pretty well above the
plain, in what became known as the Residence, though it of course
had far more than my personal quarters: security, maintenance,
food, medical staff.  But the industrial-scale parts of the
operation would have to take place down on level ground.

One feature of my semen was that unlike semen from the old days
it did not work after being frozen and it started losing potency
noticeably after about two hours.  Those little vials that Winnie
collected were rushed to meet the eggs.  They needed lots of eggs
from egg donors.  The procedure was much the same as it had been
during the old days before the great fertility crisis.  Young
women are given a mix of hormones to stimulate ovulation, not
just of the normal single egg, but dozens of eggs, which are
harvested from her body and mixed with sperm for fertilization. 
These eggs are fragile, since they last no more than twelve
hours, and are most likely to work if used within four.

Once my semen was divided into micro-droplets and distributed
among the waiting eggs, it was a matter of waiting to see how
many would take in one of my sperm to turn into embryos.  Once
the embryos were formed, time pressure lessened somewhat. 
Embryos were then implanted in women during the fertile phase of
their cycles.  Before long implantation became a simple procedure
of pushing the embryo through a spaghetti-thin  tube inserted
through the cervix.  But it was still best to implant them soon.
The complex soon got its own airport.  The whole operation near
Boulder was soon dubbed Sperm Central.

At this point the pros thought they should have 16,000 eggs ready
for the semen I produced in a 24-hour period.  One change they
made was to increase the dose of drugs so the egg donors would
give a couple hundred eggs, not dozens.  It might interfere with
a woman's later fertility, but as far as anyone knew this was her
only chance at true fertility anyway.  At an average of 200 eggs
per woman, that was 80 women per day who needed to have their
eggs harvested.  To get the eggs in their little jars to my semen
within a couple hours, they needed to build hotels for the women
pretty close to wherever I was ejaculating.  Since donation had
to be timed with monthly cycles, there needed to be thousands of
beds.


---------
Polygyny

One decision was whether to take measures to make sure Winnie
didn't get pregnant, or to let nature take its course.  The
argument for the pill was that a pregnancy might upset an
arrangement that was working.  But the whole thing felt better to
me if I thought I might be impregnating her, and that probably
would translate into better embryo counts.  So she stayed on her
normal cycles.  The scientists saw one advantage, since a
naturally-conceived baby might be different in whatever
mysterious way I was different.  In six months Winnie did became
pregnant.  At first that was a cause for pure joy, and embryo
counts went up a little.

Trouble began around the third month.  She admitted what I
sensed:  that she wasn't as interested in sex as usual.  The
count went down when I was ejaculating up inside an ambivalent
Winnie, and was even lower when I went back to masturbating.  We
all knew I would have to look within and try to find out what
would make me happy.  Finding another girl was an obvious
solution.  Being untrue to Winnie was upsetting, but letting the
counts plummet was upsetting too.  There was no guarantee that
Winnie and I would regain our special chemistry after her baby
was born.  She reminded me that she wasn't passionately in love
with me. As I had found out that Winnie was not the perfect angel
my crush had idealized her to be, I wasn't totally in love with
her either.  As I thought about crushes and perfection, my
romanticism began to falter.  I figured out that I was ready to
give up serial monogamy.  Given my role in the world, multiple
lovers were going to be OK.  The prospect was actually exciting.

We all knew where to look first:  The five other girls in high
school I had found really sexy.  My identity had been revealed as
I had moved to the Residence at Sperm Central.  The press
descended on Secaucus.  Everyone who knew me was interviewed by
journalists, and many had their moment of international fame on
the basis of some anecdote.  When the five girls were approached
with the opportunity to make a huge difference in the world, to
be at the center of everything, they all consented.  The pros
told me that one seemed ambivalent at a gut level and was perhaps
a bit unbalanced mentally, so we decided to leave her out.  One
was found to have chlamydia.  That left me with Julie, Sally and
Lisa.  They knew from the start they should not expect my
exclusive sexual attention, given how central my sexuality was to
the world.

Sally was tall, slender, and very blonde.  One reason I had liked
her in high school was that while she was very attractive and
could have had any boy she wanted, she was kind to everyone.  I
liked that she was a bit reserved.  Julie was darker and just
slightly on the plump side, but her face was just gorgeous.  She
had a great sense of humor, and clearly had a passion for life. 
Lisa had been an actual friend, and I knew she had wanted to be
my girlfriend for years.  I liked her a lot.

Sally was first to arrive.  I think she would have gone right to
bed if I wanted to, but she didn't lead me there the way Winnie
had.  And it felt right to talk with Sally a lot first, to
snuggle, to make out slowly step by step.  She had only had sex a
couple times and had not found it a pleasant experience, as her
lovers had been inexperienced and clumsy, and it wasn't entirely
clear to her whether her second time was date rape or not.  The
steady boyfriend she had settled on had accepted a celibate
lifestyle in return for the prestige of having her as his
girlfriend.  She had suffered little remorse dumping him to come
be with me.  But she found herself enjoying my attentions, the
usual kissing, backrubs, breast sucking, and of course gentle
play with the stuff between her legs.  I missed Winnie, but it
really was delicious and exciting to find myself one day on top
of another gorgeous girl who I had dreamed about for years.  I
reflected on her lithe, naked body, her legs wide apart and my
penis slowly and gently burying itself deeper and deeper within
her.  She did not come the first few times we had sex, and I only
held back so long.  Then she did start coming sometimes, and our
reliable method for her to climax was to be on top, and for me to
use my fingers to stimulate her.  She liked orgasms, but they
didn't possess her the way they do most women.  But she came to
adore me for my kindness and patience with her, and what made her
ecstatic was to feel me achieve total sexual fulfillment inspired
by her body.  The grand and noble purpose of my ejaculations
probably helped.  I think I ended up ejaculating more semen into
her than most girls because she so clearly wanted it, at every
level.

Julie arrived next, and she was quite a different story.  She had
had a dozen lovers already and really missed sex when she
couldn't have it.  I waited a day after her arrival before asking
her to go to bed, and I was teasing her a little since I knew she
really wanted to right away.  She had large, satisfying orgasms
every time.  We started in missionary position, and went through
a wide variety of others, but what she ultimately loved most was
doggie style.  It resonated with her most primal instincts, to
present her rear end to the male animal who would grasp her,
penetrate her and fertilize her.  I loved it too.  My penis got
farther up into her vagina that way than in other positions, and
I felt more like an animal, a stud.  I could feel her vagina
contract rhythmically when she came, and she screamed out her
pleasure. I once asked a technician whether the embryo counts
were OK from the rear, and she assured me they were.  I almost
caught a sense that they were if anything higher that way, though
she tried not to reveal anything.

Lisa arrived next.  She had already been in love with me for
years, and in this new role she positively worshipped me.  She
liked sex, and had orgasms regularly, but it seemed like she was
so eager to please me she wasn't genuine somehow.  And while I
enjoyed her body and enjoyed sex with her, it didn't command my
total enthusiasm the way it did with the others.  In fact, when I
reflected on it, I found I had invited Lisa up more because I
felt like I ought to want her rather than actually wanting her. 
Winnie, Julie, and Sally were stiff competition, to be sure.  I
had developed a rapport with a few of the pros who served as my
counselors, and I conferred with them.  Following my
inclinations, they told me that just below the surface Lisa
deeply resented the fact that I had other lovers.  She had to go.
 I had impregnated her in the few weeks she was with me, which in
the current context of the world was a great gift.  She would
bear just the third baby conceived the old-fashioned way.  I
never again tried to talk myself into taking as a lover a woman I
was not really attracted to, even if I felt I ought to be.

I felt a little residual guilt about Lisa.  The pros succeeded in
relieving this.  They brought her back to visit me a year later
with her infant in the company of a very attractive husband who
adored her.  The pros probably found a perfect match for her just
to make me happier.  In private she assured me that she did love
him and looked forward to their life together, but felt a deep
fulfillment in having been able to consummate the passion she had
felt for me for years, and what's more to bear my child.

So with Julie and Sally in my life, all parts of me were aligned
to enjoy ejaculating up inside each of them, over and over again,
day after day.  To everyone's relief, my embryo count was high,
higher than it had been with Winnie alone.  But there was
information I did not want to know:  how the embryo count fared
depending on which vagina the semen was harvested from, and the
pros were happy to oblige me in what to them was a trivial
matter.

Sally got up right away after sex to go to the bathroom to suck
the semen out and send it away for processing.  Julie was
supposed to, but she was so blown away by her orgasms it was
sometimes hard for her to walk, so I sometimes took pity on her
and brought in the whirring gadget and did it for her.  The
design of the whirrer had been enhanced to have a vibrator
capability.  Any girl who received my semen had reason at a
sensual level to be happy about whirring it out, not just knowing
it was important.

Winnie came back after her baby was born, and we took up where we
left off, though with a trace less emotional closeness because
she was no longer my only lover.  My effectiveness was higher
with two than with one, and even higher with three.  I had all
three of them as regular lovers for a few months, until Julie
became pregnant.  The scientists had a theory indicating that the
amount of semen I was producing was now a limiting factor. The
pros gently raised the idea of whether I would consider a mild
drug that would increase sperm production.  We tried it and it
worked.  Production doubled, and to everyone's relief the embryo
count doubled too.  They had mentioned it might increase my
libidinal energies too, and they were most emphatically right
about that.  I was eager for sex and would easily have it ten
times a day if my lovers were among them interested in that much.
 The drug made it so I could get and maintain an erection any
time I felt like it.

------------
The wider world

The world was still stunned by the fertility tragedy that had
befallen the human race.  It was eighteen years since the
pregnancies stopped, and I had been producing sperm in quantity
for the past two.  The pregnancies from the implanted embryos
came to term, and my sons and daughters were normal and healthy.
From the broader society's point of view, I was a miracle and a
source of great hope.  This could keep the species from
extinction, but it would not stem the collapse of world society
as we knew it.  If my production continued, I would father on the
order of 2,000,000 children per year.  That is far short of the
100,000,000 or so needed to replenish the population of the
earth.  And all of this might cease when I died, unless for
instance some of my sons inherited my virility.  To focus on the
bottom line fate of the earth, the key number soon became the
percentage of pre-crisis births we would achieve from current
production.  The figure now stood at 2 percent, which would save
us from extinction but cause catastrophic upheaval.

I lived in the USA, but the fertility crisis was worldwide.  I
wasn't exactly the property of the US government, but I somehow
doubted I would be allowed to move overseas without at the least
a huge battle.  The US generously offered my services to other
nations.  Egg donors flew in to Sperm Central from all over the
world.  Embryos from eggs donated by Indian women would be flown
back to India for implantation, while Armenian eggs flew back to
Armenia.  Military supersonic jets were often used to take the
embryos over such long distances so they could be implanted while
fairly fresh.  While all countries flew their egg donors to my
complex, rich countries sent some or all of their surrogate
mothers as well so the implantation could be much quicker.

The world had no choice but to put up with my genes.  Fortunately
they were pretty good, and the number of birth defects from
genetic causes was reduced from what it had been in the old days.

The allocation of embryos among nations was a serious issue. 
Funds were available to fly egg donors from obscure and remote
tribes to Sperm Central, though cynics noted that it was also a
cheap bit of favorable publicity.  For larger, poor countries
like Nigeria or Indonesia, the number of babies per million
people was a tiny fraction of what it was in the US.  Countries
eventually ponied up a lot of money to send their egg donors to
Boulder, some chartering jets for the purpose.  But it was
ultimately the US that scheduled the egg donors, and the
political pressure to reserve the most spots for Americans was
irresistible.

Since my mood determined embryo counts, everything possible was
done to shield me from unpleasantness.  But when I realized I was
being put in a cocoon, I objected.  I insisted that I be able to
read the news.  That was at times upsetting to my temperament,
with corresponding dips in fertility.  So as a middle ground I
recruited a friend from high school to help me, the first of my
retinue (other than lovers) who I chose myself.  Penelope was
someone who just always struck me as incorruptible, a pillar of
morality.  And she was strong.  I had her read the news, and tell
me what she thought was important.  She told me that many
religious fundamentalists throughout the world rejected
participating in the project at all.  She told me there had been
death threats, though it seemed the actual danger was small. 
Nonetheless, security was very tight for miles around Sperm
Central.

Penelope also told me that no egg donors were being accepted from
North Korea, Pakistan, or China -- the "axis of evil" at that
point in US history.  I quickly agreed with her that this was
unacceptable.  If the US practiced imperialism before, it was now
on a grand scale.  There was that unavoidable most intimate form
of imperialism -- the genes of a WASP were going to become half
of any nation's next generation.  But by mere inaction, the US
could now literally extinguish any population in the world.  The
more I thought about it, the more I rebelled, and took Penelope's
advice to insist the policy be changed.  The government had no
intention of doing so, as they did not want me interfering with
foreign policy.  Naturally my embryo count fell.  Bigwigs from
all branches of the government wanted to brief me and cajole me.
Penelope and I were in a standoff with the US government, and it
wasn't budging.

My embryo counts had probably dropped to zero anyway, but to be
sure I stopped having sex.  It was very disruptive to stop having
orgasms, so instead I masturbated a mere twice a day, and made
sure every drop of semen went into the toilet, which I promptly
flushed.  The government realized they couldn't keep a secret
about the total cessation of embryo production for long, so they
eventually caved.  I got a little bit of political power. 
Penelope started building up a staff to represent my interests. 
One of their first jobs was looking over the schedule of where
the egg donors came from.  We started suggesting changes, then
demanding them, and then took over the scheduling entirely.  But
the staff had much broader goals too.  It eventually grew to
include policy experts in most areas.  People joked that we were
assembling a West Wing in the sense of a Colorado wing.  I am
proud to say that with my considerable weight on the political
scales, corruption and the influence of big money on politics
dropped considerably.  The people's voice was heard more
directly.

Did I mention my staff were all women, too?  I was happy if I
never saw a man for weeks at a time.  I didn't have very good
memories of my father and big brother or the boys who had
tormented me in school.  I occasionally had sex with women on my
staff, if upon discreet investigation it turned out we were both
interested.  A few were delighted to become pregnant that way. 
The issue never came up between me and Penelope.

-------------
Nymphs

So what kind of life did I lead up on the mountain in Colorado? 
My personal quarters were simple because my tastes were simple. 
What visitors there were went through a quarantine to reduce the
chance I would catch an infection, but I didn't really want many
visitors.  I need plenty of alone time anyway. During the day, I
enjoyed the wide world of possibilities on the internet, read
books, and of course considered issues with my staff.  I am
something of a homebody, and I hardly ever traveled.

Sally, Winnie, and Julie each had her own apartment.  Winnie and
Julie had full-time nannies to take advantage of as much as they
wanted.  Sally had decided from the start she did not want to
become pregnant, and was on the pill.  I tried sleeping at night
with each of them, but eventually I ended up with the calm,
loving Sally.  For my last sex of the day, I would thrust away
inside her, a little more gently than with the others, and just
as another orgasm erupted, see those adoring eyes.  I fell asleep
almost before the orgasm faded, but I would come to briefly as I
felt her warm form nuzzle against me after her trip to the
bathroom and the whirring gadget.   I usually had sex with Sally
first thing in the morning and last thing at night.  I made dates
with Winnie and Julie.  For instance, Winnie might come over at
11 in the morning, and we would have sex once, then rest ten
minutes and do it again.  Julie came over at 3, and we had sex
once, then after twenty minutes did it again.

The more I had sex with them, the more sex I wanted.  They all
realized their vital place in the world and would never refuse
me. But I got them to admit they were not full participants
sometimes, especially if I was proposing sex for the fourth time
that day, and they agreed to stop pretending.  So if she wasn't
feeling particularly interested, Winnie might close the door and
pull off her pants and panties, lie on the bed with her legs
apart and massage her labia for a minute to get some lubrication
going and signal me it was time.  If my erection wasn't already
up when I got to her room, it was by then.  I would slide into
her still-perfect body, thrust twenty times and come, deep and
strong as ever.  She would slide away and whirr away her dose of
semen as per the routine.  It might take three minutes from start
to finish.  Julie was the sort of woman who was just about always
lubricated.  Sometimes I would visit her unannounced, already
erect and horny.  She would drop her book, bend over, hitching up
her skirt and pulling down her panties.  I would mount her from
the rear, thrust five times and come hard and deep, then slip out
and leave, panting.  Total time, twenty seconds.  But I didn't
really like doing that.  Embryo counts started dropping,
inexorably.

Since embryo counts depended on my mood, all of us from the
beginning had been afraid of what my mood would require. I never
had any taste for anal or oral sex, which was helpful because the
semen was happier in a vagina before being collected than
anywhere else.  Fetishes would not cause any serious problem. 
But what if my tastes became outlandish or unethical?  Rooms of
solid gold?  Rape?  Sadism?  Human sacrifice?  But we would look
at it one step at a time.

Winnie, Sally and Julie ran the gamut of female tendencies and
were not chosen specifically for being the lover to a semen
machine.  We had run through all the girls in my small high
school who I felt strongly attracted to in any event.  Three
women were not sufficient to satisfy my sexual appetites. 
Perhaps I should be getting young women chosen specifically for
the purpose at hand.  This had the air of prostitution about it,
but my staff convinced me to think about it a little differently.
 It might be good if I indulged my sexual desires more, given my
position in the world.  My fertility might not just recover, it
might surge.  It was worth a shot.

The pros in consultation with my staff devised a program to find
more mates for me.  Women from all over the world were invited to
submit applications.  Along with being a lover of the famous John
Smith and being a minor celebrity, the successful candidate would
be able to designate five friends to get implanted embryos.  She
herself would have the chance to conceive a child in the
old-fashioned manner.

It was a discrete advertisement, in selected places, but the news
spread like wildfire.  There were ten million initial
applications, so we could afford to be quite selective.  My staff
limited the offer to Americans because I like people who share my
language and culture and the security concerns were less.  From
the initial applications my staff studied the pictures and showed
me hundreds of possible candidates they thought I might find
attractive.  They learned my preferences pretty quickly and
applied them.  At that point we had 40,000 candidates that I
found gorgeous. There was plenty of other screening:  personal
health, family health history, decent intelligence, personality,
security clearance, and an essay on why the candidate wanted the
job.

All that winnowing left 1,000 candidates, who came in groups to
the new facility at Sperm Central for further study and
interviews.  One of the most notable screening areas was sexual
attitude and performance.  These women had to have strong sexual
appetites, and in particular to find the father of humanity
attractive, as displayed to them in pictures and videos, some of
them X-rated.  But they also could not get jealous or frustrated
if ignored for a while, because there would be no other men in
their lives -- while in my service, they would be mine and mine
alone.  They had to be genuinely enthusiastic about sex just
about any time, in any configuration, and on short notice.  We
found a mild drug they would take that simulated the middle of a
normal menstrual cycle and kept them constantly lubricated to
some extent.  They had to be tolerant of creative and unusual
practices.  My staff at the Residence was all female, but down on
the flatlands it included some men whose job was to have sex with
aspiring young women under various conditions.  It was perhaps
one of the dream jobs of all time, though they too had to pass
very careful screened to get that assignment.  The women had to
be very supportive of the entire enterprise of spreading my seed
throughout the world as our only hope of survival.  They became
known as nymphs.

At that point the Residence had different areas.  First there was
my personal house.  That had the inner sanctum, where almost no
one but me went.  It looked over a Japanese garden with a great
view of mountains and plains beyond.  It was small and had my
private bed, armchair, computers, and books.  Moving outward
there was my bedroom where I slept with women (Sally most
nights), and then farther out a room for private conferences,
kitchenette, bath, and fair-sized living room.  My personal house
was connected to other buildings by transparent tube-like
corridors.  One was for the Staff, and another housed the
apartments of Julie, Winnie and Sally.  There were other parts of
the Residence for maintenance, food services, and security, but
they were largely invisible to me.
A new Sex building was constructed to accommodate the nymphs. 
The whole thing was architected playfully among the rocks.  There
were twisty little passages and stairs, nooks for trysts, spots
under pine trees, towers with winding stairs and the topmost with
a 360-degree view.  There were many bedrooms of different sizes,
including some for my private use. Each nymph had her own as
well.  The common living areas for the nymphs were part of that
complex too.  Everywhere were whirring devices and the pneumatic
tubes to take vials of semen away.

Finally it was time.  Five nymphs had just moved into the Sex
building.  Late one September afternoon, I entered the bedroom of
Abigail.  I was electrified as soon as I took one look at her,
and felt faint.  She was maybe 20, 5'6", with shoulder-length
blond hair, blue eyes, a perfect nose, and the fairly thin figure
I find most appealing.  I had been planning to chat for a while,
but she went over to me and put her arms around my waist, and
after brief consideration said "I think you want sex" with a
gentle smile.  She really was quite correct.

So she led me to the bed.  Her own clothes were constructed so
she could get out of them almost instantly.  Mine took just a
little longer, even with her help.  Since I didn't give her any
specific direction, she just lay back on the bed with a smile and
spread her legs.  I started to mount this gorgeous creature, and
caught myself for a moment, thinking of my initial encounter with
Winnie and my current desire to put my semen in the right place.
Abigail was clearly well-lubricated.  I slid my penis into her
and found her vagina to be hot, silky and perfect. I had been
encouraged in this whole enterprise to indulge my fantasies a
little more, and so I did.   I pulled back once but then rammed
myself in deep as I came powerfully, seconds after entering her.

I felt a little guilty, but as I collapsed on top of her she gave
a delightful little laugh that convinced me she was entirely
happy.  After I lay there panting for maybe twenty seconds, I
rolled off and let her get up to use the gentle little whirring
device in the bathroom.  But then it struck me.  If these nymphs
were all selected in this manner, neither very quick sex or
anything else I wanted to do would offend them, and if Abigail
was typical, they were indeed as HOT as we had hoped.

I leapt up and without even saying goodbye went into the hallway
stark naked with a shiny half-erect penis.  I opened the door to
the next room.  Tina was an entirely different but equally
electrifying woman.  She had short dark hair, brown twinkling
eyes, and a slightly bigger hip section, which mesmerized me. 
She smiled and without a word I motioned for her to bend over the
bed to show that hip section to good effect, which she did,
without losing a trace of the smile, letting her skirt drop to
the floor in the same motion.  I mounted her from behind, touched
her labia just enough to get oriented, pushed my penis in, to a
different but equally perfect vagina, and came in the very same
motion I entered her, feeling my orgasm reverberate and my semen
pulsing out, making me stagger.  She turned her head and smiled
almost reverently, and once getting me sitting on the bed, went
to the bathroom to use the whirring device.   When she came back,
I had slumped over on the bed reflecting on these magnificent
bouts of sex.  She straightened me out and started hugging me in
the same deft motion.  I started kissing her and making out.  But
after five minutes I looked at her with an urgent expression.  I
really could just stop making love to one woman and head for
another if I wanted!

Off to the next room I went, still naked and with my erection
rising.  Cathy was already completely naked.  She was 4'11" with
her hair in a French braid, with barely any breasts or hips, also
one of my favorite shape.  She looked barely 16.  These women
could talk to each other, I found out later, and naked was at the
moment the best way to receive me.  Cathy was sitting on the edge
of the bed with her legs apart.  This was so alluring I motioned
her to stay where she was and spread her legs a little wider.  I
stood by the bed and slid my penis into her just as she was, on
the edge of the bed.  Also perfect.  This time I thrust for a
whole two minutes.  She came once, a moderate orgasm.  At the end
I surged forward, with my hands on her little butt to force us
close.  I pushed as deep as I could as I let the semen jet go.

Sliding out I ran directly to the next room.  Diane had long
blond hair and an absolutely adorable face, with average breasts,
about on the high end of what I like.  She was also naked.  I
motioned for her to lie on her back, then I lay on top of her and
thrust for a good while, more feebly as the minutes past.  I was
exhausted.  Having sex three times in a few minutes was not so
unusual for me, but their overwhelming attractiveness was.  Diane
then nibbled my ear, and I could feel a gentle orgasm as another
dose of semen pumped into her.  I then collapsed on top of her. 
I must have been dead out.  I don't know how many minutes later
it was that I came to.  My penis had slid out of her.  She was
looking a little the worse for wear, gasping in tiny breaths --
but still smiling.  I had fallen asleep with my dead weight on
top of her, and she had lain their patiently rather than nudging
me off.  This nymph training was going a little far, I thought as
I instantly and apologetically moved off of her.  She started
breathing like she had just done a windsprint as she started to
get up to use the whirring device, but I held her back down for
another couple minutes until she fully got her breath.  Then she
went to the bathroom to harvest my semen.  I was basically
exhausted, but I had slept for a few minutes, so I had a little
extra energy.  I was out the door before she got back.

I spotted a man from my medical staff in the hallway, who asked
if I was OK.  That was questionable, but I nodded and was through
the door of the fifth room.  Zoe had shoulder-length light brown
hair, fairly tall at 5'10", and just perfectly proportioned in
every respect.  I motioned for her to stand up.  I lay on the bed
and asked her to straddle me, which she promptly did, with her
own gentle smile.  I asked her to do what felt best, so she rode
me up and down for all of 30 seconds before I could see her
tremble, and feel her vagina squeeze me, and see her eyes glaze
over.  "Can you keep going?" I asked.  She did, and about four
minutes into it this time I felt myself coming as this gorgeous
creature came to her second orgasm.  I heaved upward, sending her
up in the air six inches, still firmly hugging me with her
vagina, as my semen shot up into her.  I said "More", and as I
drifted off to sleep she was still moving up and down slowly.

When I woke this time it was probably an hour or more later.  She
was sweetly curled up by my side with her head in the crook of my
chest and upper arm.  I felt exhausted, so after chatting for a
few minutes I went back to sleep.  At midnight I awoke to her
overwhelmingly sexy presence.  I lifted her leg and she scooched
her female parts in close to me, just above my penis -- they
taught these women applied geometry, too, I noticed. So we did it
side-by-side, while I gazed at her lovely face and I slowly felt
the warmness spread as I eased into a slow orgasm, but still
giving her a couple good spurts of semen.  The drugs helped my
production.

I hugged her, dressed in the fresh clothes that had been left for
me, kissed her goodbye, and went back to my private bedroom for
the rest of the night.  Francoise was kind of like my shrink, and
in the morning I called her in to make sure the nymphs really
didn't mind my frantic sex.  She had already been doing her
homework and assured me they were in fact delighted.  They were
delighted to see me happy and were excited by the virility of the
only man with potent sperm, with the whole world riding not on my
shoulders, but my balls.  My staff later told me that my sperm
from the previous day's adventures had been so potent they had
run out of eggs, but estimated we were at 5% replenishment, far
above when I was having sex with Winnie, Sally, and Julie.  I
also happily consented to a higher dose of the drug so that I
would have the stamina for more frequent erections and orgasms to
match my increased desire.

Each nymph had a private room.  There were video cameras in each
room and its private bath, which they knew I might be scanning at
any time.  I would sometimes look at them at night as they slept,
and if a certain gestalt of position and bedclothes and mussed-up
hair struck my fancy, I might head down to the nymph's room at a
trot, my erection rising as I went, and slide into bed with her,
slide into her, and spurt my semen in seconds later, or we might
make love for an hour.  For a few weeks there was one nymph who
drove me wild with desire whenever I saw her pee, and she found
me twice bounding through her door just a minute or two later. 
She decided to drink a lot and pee a lot.

The nymphs could always say no, no matter what was proposed. 
They could turn the cameras off, and they could declare
themselves to be not very interested in sex.  They could leave my
service at any time.  I sometimes treated these women in a way
that many or most women would find degrading.  But nymphs were
all selected for high sexual interest, attraction to me, and
flexibility.  So they were rarely trying to avoid me.  They were
if anything vying for my attentions.

They had living areas where they could socialize and lead their
lives, since of course being a lover (or at minimum sperm
receptacle) for me was a very part-time job.  Staying nude or
wearing whatever minimal bit of lingerie that they thought might
turn me on soon became the fashion among them, even when
socializing with each other.  At first if I spotted a nymph in
the common areas I especially wanted, I would lead her back to
her room.  But when I started experimenting with a little
exhibitionism, I learned a nymph would often prefer to stay with
the group too.  She was happy to have been chosen, and was happy
to show off a little.  The others could soak up my presence,
sometimes touch or caress me.  Pretty often I was thrusting away
in an orgasm-besotted woman on a living room sofa, while three or
four others looked on, sometimes with a hand just happening to
rest in her lap.  In a group setting, a woman could count on a
friend sliding the whirring gadget into her so she could bathe in
an afterglow instead of having to get up right away.  As I
mentioned before, I was possessive enough that I was the only man
they could ever have while in my service.  Most were masturbating
and a few started having sex with each other, which was more than
fine with me.

In those first few months I had twenty nymphs in my service. 
They all wanted me, and I wanted all of them.  The more sex I
had, the more I wanted.  My sporadically kept diary shows June
4th as a rather typical day. I woke up spooned against Mary at
dawn, and her sleepy womanly smell and flesh was so sexy I had to
slide into her from the rear, thrust twenty times and leave her
with a big goop of semen to whirr away.  But I remembered I had
been dreaming of Sue, so I was out the door and off to Sue's
room.  Sue was in the shower, which was quite the treat.  She was
delighted to invite me in, and after a few minutes of kissing in
the steam, I lifted her right leg and pressed her against the
shower stall wall and pumped her standing up.  She had two
orgasms before I gave one tremendous last thrust which lifted her
remaining foot off the ground, as my penis pulsed three or four
times.  I started to keel over, but Sue caught me and got me
lying on the bed before whirring away my little gifts.

I drifted off for five minutes, but I woke up to Sue's scent, and
she was sitting above me on the bed with legs wide apart, her
crotch inches from my face, which she had learned I liked.  I
gave her a few licks as my penis rose again.  I lay on my back
and motioned her on top of me.  She impaled herself on me and was
jerking unevenly, mashing our pubic hair mats against each other.
 As soon as she cried out with pleasure, I pulled her down on top
of me, and squeezing her back ferociously with one hand and her
butt with the other, I thrust roughly up inside her ten times and
gave her another little dollop as I roared with pleasure.  I
released my grasp on her in a few minutes, and she was off to
whirr that away.  After that I was out cold for an hour.

I was hungry when I got up, and headed back to my own private
apartment for some food.  I should mention that while I had chefs
to make me whatever I wanted, sometimes I would chug a special
liquid packed with calories and other nutrients, because I wanted
to be off to my next woman.  Then I assembled my staff for the
daily staff meeting.  There were no big issues today, and after
half an hour my mind started wandering and I excused myself with
a "Carry on!"

I was dreaming of the quintet, something we had perfected the day
before.  I touched a button to tell the team to assemble.  By the
time I got to the north living room five minutes later they were
there on the bed (these living rooms all had beds; we needed
them).  Carol had just been there a week, and she was perfection
among the perfect.  She lay on her back with her legs apart just
far enough, and I sucked her lovely nipples a couple times before
lying on her and sliding my penis into her silky vagina -- she
was literally hot, having for some reason a 102-degree body
temperature as her norm.  I slid very slowly back and forth,
inside her, like an engine idling, while I memorized her
shoulder-length reddish hair and impish girl face with the cutest
nose.  But Brenda was lying above my head, and I tilted my head
upwards to be at the nape of her neck because her odor there
thrilled me at some entirely different level.  Tiny Yvonne
straddled my back, because I loved the sensation of her crotch as
she ever so lightly brushed it on my back, and I adored the
little squeaks she made as she got excited.  Donna was the Jester
of the Bottom Half, who kept surprising me.  She would suck a
toe, lick behind my knee, whack my butt, blow cool breath my
scrotum, massage a calf, give a Bronx cheer to my thigh, I never
knew what next.  And I would slide in and out of Carol in largo
time.  I wanted this to last forever, but within half an hour my
inner reptile complained, and after ten slow but mighty thrusts I
fogged out in orgasm and pumped Carol full, it seemed.  Indeed,
the whirring got a record amount of semen from the quintet. 
Within seconds, gentle hands had me on my side, spooned against
Brenda, with my nose in her hair.  I slept half an hour.

I wasn't even awake when my penis was erect and I was thrusting
kind of randomly.  Brenda soon corrected that and I was thrusting
somewhere not at all random, and as I woke up, took a deep sniff
of Brenda's hair and ejaculated, pleasure washing over me.  Nice
way to wake up.

But as Brenda got up to do her whirring, there on the facing sofa
was Naomi, reading a magazine.  She was topless, but had on a
skirt and her legs were primly folded under her. I suddenly had a
vivid memory of having a great time with what was under that
particular skirt.  I whispered her name and went over to her as
she put the magazine down and smiled.  I ran my hand up under her
skirt, my penis hardening all the time.  What I felt up there was
some very soft hair, and a little lower that soft hair was damp
verging on wet, and when I pressed in there I could feel her
labia pressing in and parting a little.  Taking my hand back out
I pushed her gently back on the sofa, flipped the skirt up,
forced her legs apart (she resisted a little to tease me) and
pressed deep, right at that spot where her labia had parted a
little.  This time they parted a lot.  Two minutes of thrusting,
one big simultaneous orgasm at the end.

I was still surfacing out of the ecstatic fog when I heard Yvonne
laugh across the room.  She was lying on her side, naked, with
one knee up in the air making a kind of miniature mountain.  I
walked across the room, fast if a little unsteadily, and pulled
her lower leg up straight and hugged the whole thing like a post,
which she stiffened for that purpose.  I knelt on the sofa and
looked at her crotch area, with ample hair.  Yvonne was tiny, but
her crotch was just normal size, and looked especially alluring
in contrast.  I buried myself in her vagina.  Our pubic areas
were sideways to each other.  It wasn't too many seconds later I
lunged hard against her as I came, pulsing a few times.

Now I was almost possessed.  Amy was leaning over a table,
looking casually at a magazine.  The two little mini-globes of
her labia were small echoes of the large white globes of her rear
end.  I got up and approached her.  I separated the labia with my
fingers, and they came apart sticking a little, revealing the
inner labia and the beginning of her vaginal opening.  My
erection wasn't even going down between matings.  I frantically
slid right into Amy from behind, which I suspect is exactly what
she was hoping I would do, as the magazine was upside down.  I
slid in very deep three times and my penis twitched  in orgasm,
pulse, pulse, pulse.

The pleasure was accumulating deliciously within me from woman to
woman.  The word had gotten around about my escapades, and other
nymphs who hadn't been in the room came in to get in on the
action.  One wore a chador, a new attempt to excite my interest,
and I pushed her down gently on the bed on her back, and pushed
my hand up the middle of the chador from the bottom, so it
bunched at the sides.  I exposed the part I wanted, the juicy
labia, and then assumed the missionary position thrusting away
methodically.  I never did figure out who it was.  At that time,
I didn't care.  I ended up orgasming inside 9 of my nymphs, and
with Carol a second time, which felt kind of like a sauna after a
workout.  I staggered back to my own private bed and slept by
myself for eight hours.  Not all days were that extreme, but I
was doing a lot of mating.

I had still been sleeping with Sally most of the time.  Sally was
great, but my cravings were getting stronger.  So first I had sex
with some woman just before going to bed, and I started off
sleeping with Sally.  After a couple hours I would wake up and
urgently want Sally, so we would make love for a few minutes, my
sweet adoring girl, and then I would end with a few gentlemanly
thrusts, though the semen spurts were as vigorous as ever.   But
after she got up to whirr she went off to her own room.  A nymph
crawled into bed with me as I fell asleep.  And every couple
hours I awoke to the alluring female presence beside me and
sleepily slid my penis into the nymph of the hour.  Thrust once:
pulse, pulse, pulse, ecstasy and back to sleep.  Another nymph
took her place.  After a few hours, thrust twice:  pulse, pulse,
ecstasy and back to sleep.

We tried upping the dose of the drug a little more.  I was having
maybe 15 orgasms a day, with a full measure of semen spurting out
on each one.  In one session as a sort of megalomaniac fantasy I
lined all twenty up in doggy position and I took them one after
another, 30 seconds apart.  Took them and in short order gave
them three strong tugs of semen.  We were up to 15% replacement.

But now and then in the night a nymph woke up to warm fluid
suddenly surging onto the small of her back while I was still out
cold after sleeping a full four hours.  Then began a time when
each nymph had to be sure to wake me up every couple hours.  Sort
of like waking up a three-year-old in the middle of the night to
pee so she doesn't wet the bed.  I got erections often enough, so
the routine was that as the time approached they would slide my
penis into them while I was still asleep.  They liked this
routine, since they could get themselves to the brink of orgasm
so that just after I entered them and started thrusting they
would have a big orgasm too, pulses answering pulses.  It was
good for the embryo counts too, and they sometimes kept doing
that even when it wasn't necessary to avoid stray semen spurts.

But although my penis was hard and the successive orgasms were
intoxicating, exhaustion set in and embryo counts started
dropping a little.  So we lowered the drug dose a little, and
settled for 12%.  Like the three-year-old I did soon learn my own
signals and woke up on my own.  My body had semen to get rid of,
and whatever combination of sexy signals the woman beside me was
giving out, I wanted to get rid of it in her.  She might awaken
to my entering her and thrusting five times to deliver that semen
to a safe place, but then falling back to sleep almost at once.

You might think these nymphs got nothing but quickies from me, to
the extreme of about one second of notice as my penis barged
through labia, up vagina, and shot out a spurt of semen before
withdrawing two strokes later.  The nymphs didn't mind that,
since they were selected to be that kind of woman and, more
important, there was something highly erotic about their role in
this great enterprise.  Their vaginas stood in each time for
thousands of vaginas that would never hold fertile sperm but
whose associated uteri would as a result of this quickie grow a
cherished baby.

Along with the quickies, I would spend a couple hours now and
then, talking, luxuriating in flesh and making sweet love in the
ways they loved best.  Sixteen orgasms, one woman counted, in the
45 minutes my penis was thrusting in her.  There was one nymph
who didn't reach orgasm as quickly as many others, but once she
did was in continuous intense orgasm for ten minutes.  She was a
rag doll when it was over, but I was delighted to do her whirring
for her.  The vibrator capability of these whirrers kept
improving, and after a few years the enterprising technician
Jenna made one with some secret complicated vibration pattern
that all the women reported as divine and has never been
duplicated in the wider world.

My production continued to increase.  Techniques in the
fertilization building were getting more refined, another reason
that the percentage might go up -- it got as far as 16%.  The
scale of the operation increased.  More hotels were built, and
the airport got busier.  I kept sweet Sally with me to hug as the
night began.  She was my anchor in a sea of perfect women.

As I mentioned before, the nymphs were on a mild drug which
maintained their reproductive organs as they would be in the
fertile part of a normal menstrual cycle, constantly lubricated
to some extent at least, and with a chemistry favorable to the
health of sperm.  But they had been promised a chance to have a
baby in the normal manner.  And for the many who did want that,
we waited to a point where I was prepared or at least resigned to
part with their company and they began normal cycles.  On fertile
days a nymph was entitled to keep all the semen I gave her.  A
few took that privilege fully but most just whirred a bit less
thoroughly, and still had plenty for their own one little egg. 
They didn't want to deprive the world of 5,000 babies to satisfy
a whim.  Some of them stayed through large parts of their
pregnancy, which lent a little variety for me too.

With high doses of the drug, one limitation sometimes was my
physical stamina.  On August 12th I lay on my back, and attached
a vibrator that fit securely on my pubic bone.  A nymph
approached me from overhead, guided my penis into her as she
enveloped me, and then landed on the vibrator.  With a half dozen
or dozen strokes she would typically have a large orgasm.  I
would rise into orgasm with her and spurt.  As soon as my spurts
were finished, the woman would lift herself off me and go away to
whirr.  The next woman would impale herself on me, bounce up and
down on the vibrator a few times and have her orgasm too, while I
spurted up inside her.  I didn't even have to move.  One orgasm
overlapped with another.  Each time a new woman appeared, my
sexual energy replenished itself and I was good for more spurts
of semen, each spurt just swimming with sperm desperately seeking
an egg up inside.  It worked best in the dark, somehow, where I
could concentrate on smells and the successive hot vaginas
enveloping me.  Each new vagina hungered for me, gobbled me up,
and sent its owner into intense orgasm, begetting matching spurts
and ecstasy from me.  I could cycle through all my nymphs that
way and get halfway through them a second time before I would
fall asleep from the cumulative drug of all those orgasms.

-----------
Family

The nymphs became the center of my sex life, and I slept with
Sally for a few hours every night.  But I never forgot Winnie and
Julie.  They both tried living back in the wider world down
below.  Julie married but divorced soon after.  Winnie didn't
find anyone to her liking.  Perhaps the time with me was too
vivid to them, but for whatever reason they were both eager to
come back.  So we set up a family wing to the Residence for the
two of them and their children.  Winnie's first child was a son,
the only boy who lived in the Residence.  Julie's was a daughter.
 They each bore a second child by me, both girls, conceived in
the normal manner.   Winnie's and Julie's old apartments became
officially a family complex.  Those four children lived there but
went to school in the nearby town down on the flat and lived a
fairly normal life.  I may have been the father of millions, but
these were the only four children who I helped raise and who knew
me as a father.  I did have too busy a life to spend a lot of
time with them, but it was consistent, and it was precious.  I
made a point of satisfying Winnie and Julie's own desires, though
in private as ordinary people would, not in the rampant
exhibitionist style of the nymphs.

-----------
Reflection

I never asked for this kind of life.  But it really could be a
lot worse.  I provide my male fluids several times a day in
fulfillment of my every sexual fantasy, and so far it looks like
I'm on track to father hundreds of millions of children and save
the species.


==================================================================

I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.

 		 	   		  
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+