A Real Woman Loves Semen

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Part I: New York

It was 1999. We met online; she was a budding writer and I liked some of her stories—so I mailed her. There was no Facebook or anything of the sort back then. Well, soon enough, she said we should meet—that I could come over to her place in upstate New York.

We hadn’t ever spoken about sex, but I saw this as an opportunity, if you will.

But a day before the planned trip, there was this phone-sex session—my first—which I’ll never forget. I said I’d be arriving tomorrow, and… “What about, you know… sex? I mean, the two of us in the same apartment and all—it’s going to be difficult for me to control myself.”

“Umm… I’m a virgin. I want to keep it until I get married.”

“But won’t you enjoy it? I mean…”

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about sex, in fact.”

“What do you know?”

“I just know that a man puts his penis into a woman’s vagina.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Umm… OK, what about oral sex? Do you know anything about it?”

“Yes. The woman licks the man’s penis.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to learn more about it?”

“Umm… yes. But how? Will you tell me?”

“You can read about it on the Internet.”

“Where?” Such utter innocence!

I spelled out a link over the phone, and told her to read it and call me back. The link I gave her specifically spoke a lot about swallowing.

She called back soon enough and said she’d read the article.

“Well? What do you think?”

Her reply stunned me to say the least: “How much do you give?”

“Huh?”

“How much semen do you give a woman?”

OK, I thought, this is going to be fun. “You’ve seen those plastic cups at water coolers and coffee dispensers? Well, about that much.”

“So MUCH!”

“Yeah, well, all my women have told me I’m a good cummer.” Wow, this was fun!

“Do they drink it?”

“Of course. You read the article, right? Does a real woman waste a man’s semen?”

“Umm. Oh g-d. One cup! So MUCH!”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a few drops, or perhaps a mouthful?”

“No. I want MORE.”

That pretty much made me explode with excitement. I lay down, rubbing my cock on my bed, phone in hand. “I must tell you—it’s really salty and bitter. And it’s hot. Not as hot as coffee, but hot. Women tell me their throat burns while drinking it. Some of them have had upset tummies after drinking the entire cupful.”

“Umm. Yeah. Go on.”

“I like to deliver it vertically, you know—kneeling over the woman’s face, penis pointing downward. So the spurts really hit their throats hard. They have to keep gulping fast so no semen drips out and gets wasted.”

“Ummmmm! I want that.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to drink your juice.”

I was close to ejaculation already. “Say that again?”

“I want to drink the juice from your penis.”

“Oh g-d you’re hot…” I trailed off, and just barely able to grip the phone, I came more than I’d probably ever come before. I’d realized I was going to meet a cumslut the next day!

We met the next day; for some reason, she said we should meet at a hotel. Which we did.

In the hotel room, we talked and talked and talked. The phone sex was a fantasy; in real life, it wasn’t easy for me to just say “OK, open your mouth and let me shove my cock in.” But obviously, my mind was on sex and semen all the while; I had the idea she probably wanted penetration as well—and I was pretty sure of it when she lay on the bed and sighed.

“What?” I asked her.

“Nothing, I’m just… tired.”

“Do you want a back massage or something?”

“No… I’ll be OK soon.”

For no apparent reason, she got on the floor and began looking at me in a way that said “I need something.”

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

She took off her blouse and actually crawled along the floor to where I was sitting. Ten seconds later I was hard—and I decided this was a girl who needed to be treated like a woman. “Take off your bra as well.”

She obliged, and I was amazed at the sheer size of her breasts. I mean, they were so large, I’d require both hands to grasp each of them. And she just sat there, bra-less and still looking straight into my eyes.

“Take off my jeans.”

She didn’t just take off my jeans; she took off my briefs as well, grasped my cock, and began licking.

“Go on. This is what you wanted, is it?”

Still licking, she managed a “Yes.” Then suddenly: “Let’s get on the bed…?”

“Sure. Take off your panties.”

“No, I’m scared…” So yeah, she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t want sex.

“Scared of what?”

“I’m not ready yet…”

“OK then, do you want me to rub my penis on your belly?”

With a glow in her eyes: “Yes.” And then: “But, umm, will that make you ejaculate?”

G-d, this girl was serious about semen!

“Aren’t you a dirty girl?” I shot at her with mock aggression.

In a craven voice, and almost in tears: “Yes…”

“Look. Tell me straight. You don’t want to have sex bursa escort now. Do you really want me to rub my penis on your belly?”

More confident now: “Yes.”

And the proceedings began. She was moaning even though we weren’t really “doing” anything— throwing her head from side to side like a crazed woman, her massive breasts heaving all over the place until I somewhat controlled them with my hands. I say “somewhat” because each of my hands were rather smaller than each of her breasts. And all the while she just went on: “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

I began kissing her, and her sheer appetite for tongue was amazing. Lips locked, tongues entwined, mouthfuls of saliva being vigorously exchanged, my rubbing got faster and faster—and I came. I remember her “Umm! Umm!” while I was spurting over her belly—some of the semen dripping off onto the bed, some shooting up onto her cleavage.

And that’s when I realized this was a special girl, and that the phone thing about cum wasn’t just fantasy: She began scooping up the semen from her belly—licking up some of it and swallowing with audible gulps, rubbing some over her breasts, and—I got hard again as I saw this—rubbing a lot of it all over her face as though her life depended on it. She didn’t waste a drop: Even whatever had spilled onto the bed, she got down on the floor on her knees and licked it up. Slowly, sensuously.

I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing. That this was happening in real life; I’d only seen such stuff in porn.

“You’re crazy.”

No response except an impatient “Mmm” as her mouth moved in a weird way. And I realized she was swirling that last bit of cum around in her mouth.

I just sat there looking at her; she savored the cum in her mouth for a good five minutes, and ended it with that now-familiar audible gulp—followed by a long “Aaah!”

I just managed a “Did you like it?”

“You didn’t give me a cupful like you said you could. I need more.”

“Well, take it then… I’m going to lie down and you can do what you want.”

Well, none of what she did after that was in the article she had “read”: Sucking and licking my balls, licking up and down the shaft, milking my penis with her hand from the base as though she were hoping it would increase the quantity. She got the fruits of her labor soon enough, and this time, she just gulped it down. I probably didn’t manage enough to satisfy her lust—and I sure was glad she didn’t say she wanted even more!

Two more semen-drinking sessions the next day (I have to say I really am a good cummer even if the “cupful” was a fantasy) and I was off, back home. We kept in touch, of course.

Part II: Connecticut

A month later, with a new job, she moved to a town in Connecticut. I don’t know what changed her mind about penetrative sex, but one fine day, she sent me a mail saying she wanted it: “DH, I made a mistake last time. I was stupid. I want you to fuck my brains out.” Well, that was a pleasant surprise—and I wasted no time in planning for the trip. I’d found something online called Semenex, which promised to improve the taste and increase volume; I consumed mega-doses of the stuff so I could give my woman more of what she wanted. I shopped for anal dildos so she could enjoy the “double thing.” I masturbated without ejaculating for long hours, trying to improve the strength of my thrusts. And, of course, I bought condoms.

Then came another shocker of a mail: “Lover, can you pour your juice onto a handkerchief… and FedEx it to me? I want to keep my face on it and smell it and think of you and prepare myself…” I had to explain to her that even with same-day FedEx, she wouldn’t be able to smell it after it had dried.

So well, we met again; it was an evening flight so we were able to get down to business soon after I’d reached her apartment. I’ve had many women, but this was a night I’ll never forget.

It appeared she wasn’t lying when she’d said she was a virgin: After we got naked, she just lifted her thighs straight up and waited for me to get in as though it were some kind of surgical operation. I said something like “How about some kissing” and she just gasped: “Just put it in. Quick.”

Huh?

So as she lay there with her legs up in the air, waiting, I put on a condom and began to get inside her—and she pushed me away.

“No. Take that thing off.”

“Sweetie, it’s not safe!”

“I don’t care if I get pregnant or die or whatever happens—I just want to feel your raw cock inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes! QUICK!”

Oh well—maybe she’s in her safe period, and of course I’ll pull out, I justified to myself. And I began the process of insertion.

I say “process” because she really was a virgin! She was so incredibly tight, it took several minutes before I could get most of it inside. Each movement of my penis seemed to create some weird sensation in her; she would wince, gasp, try to push me away—but the real proof of her virginity came when I found I couldn’t get the last couple of really thick inches in.

I pushed and pushed, bursa escort bayan and it just wouldn’t get in. Her screams of pain were deafening; I had to choose between controlling her shaking body with my hands and holding my hands to my ears. At one point, she began crying—screams and tears at the same time. “Stop it… that’s enough…”

“No, when a man and a woman have intercourse, the penis must be completely inside the vagina.”

“Why? Why?” Amid sobs.

“Because otherwise it isn’t intercourse, sweetie.”

With her wails of pain continuing: “OK then, do what you want…” and she spread her legs wider apart.

Suddenly, the magic moment happened: She began to say the familiar “Umm. Umm.” of pleasure, I felt her juices actually dripping out, and all of my cock went in. She let out an “Aah,” but as I began slowly thrusting, she commanded: “No. Keep it inside. This is heaven.”

“It feels that good?”

“I never knew it would be so blissful to have a man’s penis inside my body. Please don’t move it. Please don’t take it out. Please.”

I did as she said, and yes, it was blissful: Her lips closed tight around my base, and we began tonguing, fondling, holding hands.

Soon enough, I began some slow thrusting, then faster—and she’d replaced her screaming with gentle, encouraging moans.

A few minutes later I felt some precum emerging, so I told her: “Lover, I have to take it out. I do NOT want you to get pregnant. Lick up whatever is inside my penis right now.”

Her simple, wordless reaction was to open her mouth wide. So well, I pulled out, squeezed my cock right from the interregnum to the tip, and fed her a thick, juicy stream of precum. I did this twice or thrice so there was nothing in my cock—and then got back inside her.

We kept on with this “birth control” method; every five minutes, feed her the precum, then get back inside her belly. And each time she’d slurp the precum in a slutty way, gulp it down, and let out her trademark “Aah!”

All the while, though, her arms were tightly by her side; she hadn’t relaxed her body. At one point, I said: “Raise your arms. I want to lick your armpits.”

“No… I haven’t shaved. And I’m sweaty.”

“Yeah. I want to lick the sweat from your armpit hair.”

“I’m too shy…”

And that’s when I delivered a longish lecture: “Lover, do you realize how bonded we are? We’re fused at the genitals. My penis is literally a part of your body right now. The sweat of our bellies has been mingling. The sweat from your pubic hair has been flowing onto my penis. The lips of your vulva are lovingly gripping my penis, not letting it leave your body. My penis is lovingly caressing your womb, your cervix, the center of your womanhood. Your vagina is lovingly bathing my penis in its juices. Our saliva has been mixing and flowing from your mouth to mine and my mouth to yours. Soon, you will drink the contents of my balls through my penis while passionately gripping it with the lips of your mouth. And you’re shy about exposing your armpits to the man whose penis is deep inside your belly?”

I think she had a mild orgasm from hearing that, and she raised her arms languidly. The smell of her womanliness that wafted into the air as she did that… there’s no aphrodisiac as powerful as the smell of a woman’s armpits. And as I licked, she gasped in pleasure; it was overwhelming, and I was soon ready to empty my balls.

“Lover, open your mouth. Drink my semen.”

“Umm.”

I pulled out, knelt commandingly over her face, and pointed my penis downward. With glazed eyes, she opened her mouth, and as the semen streamed out, she drank as it came: One spurt, one gulp. One more spurt, one more gulp. I don’t know how many times I spurted, but I’d definitely not “delivered” so much semen ever before. Balls emptied, I squeezed my penis to deliver a final, small load into her mouth; she played with it, spitting it out and scooping it back into her mouth—ending with a final, happy gulp.

Still kneeling over her face, I asked her: “Was that enough?”

“More tomorrow,” she giggled. Like a little girl.

We laid sideways and joined our organs again, kissing and cuddling before falling into the most blissful sleep.

Day 2 began with her starting work on my cock while I was still asleep—so I woke with my penis in her mouth. Still sleepy, I asked her: “Are you crazy, girl?”

“I need it. I need to drink your juice to start my day.”

“How about some orange juice instead?”

“There isn’t any in the fridge.”

With her incessant begging, I decided I wasn’t that sleepy after all. “Lie on the floor,” I told her.

Without asking why, she lay on the floor.

Lying on my side, I stroked my cock, watching as she kept licking her lips in that slutty way. She’d realized why I’d told her to lie on the floor: This was a porn fantasy of mine—to ejaculate over a woman’s body from a distance. I came rather quickly; she did her now-familiar spreading-it-over-her-body routine, and, without the semen having dried, she put on her clothes. Her escort bursa blouse was pretty much drenched. I asked her if she was going to leave for work that way.

“Why not?”

Oh well—why not?

In the evening, we decided to eat out. It was kind of a sleazy restaurant—waitresses flirting with customers, couples kissing right at the table, and such. Well, our waitress was a gorgeous brunette who introduced herself as Sarah. We called for vodka, and after a bit of the stuff—on an impulse—I slapped Sarah’s ass.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” she said, but followed that up with the sweetest smile. I offered a ten-dollar bill. “How about this?” She smiled and took it without a word.

The next time she was at our table, I spanked her again. Smiling, she said: “Where’s the money?” Ten dollars again.

This went on for a bit, and my girl was fuming. Obviously. I hardly noticed it—I’d been drinking too much—and the spanking went on and on. Until my girl just got up and left. Dazed from the vodka, I went after her and found she’d driven off. And I didn’t know the way home.

Like a whining child, I said to Sarah: “Hey, my girl drove off!”

“Of course she would, you dummy!”

And that was the end of that. It was December, and in that freezing Connecticut winter, I walked out—first along the street, and then I randomly trudged along in the snow with only the vodka inside me keeping me warm. I didn’t know where I was headed; a kindly black guy came after me, in the snow, asking me if I was lost. I kind of collapsed and told him a bit of what had happened; he asked me if I had an address.

Luckily I remembered my girl’s address. I told him, and he not only got me a cab—he even sat in the cab to ensure I got home. I muttered some thank-yous, and I remember he didn’t leave; I realized he expected some money in return for the favor. So well, I gave him $20 and he was pretty happy—after which he left.

She opened the door for me without a word, lay on the couch, and told me I had the bedroom all to myself. I was so drunk, something primitive stirred within me: I took out the anal dildo from my travel bag, went to my girl, and said “So you don’t want my cock any more?”

“No. Put it inside Sarah.”

“But she’s not here. I’ll have to make do with you.”

She began weeping. “Why her? Why did you spank her…”

“Why not? Nice tits, nice round ass, cute face…”

“So go find her and fuck her to death.”

“Nah—your tits are much bigger. I’d rather fuck you.”

“No!!!!” And she covered her face with a cushion.

And that was the only time I raped a girl. In a way. I pulled off her skirt and panties, parted her thighs, and began shoving myself in. And the dildo into her ass. She screamed, she cried, and I just went on like a beast: “You cumslut, stop crying, I’ll give you what you want.”

This went on for a while, after which her ultra-feminine instincts took over—and she began creaming. I managed to get all the way in. And I asked her: “You like this thing in your ass?”

“Umm. Not so much.”

So well, it was great; I pulled out in time and poured my cum over her face. Most of it dripped off onto the couch, and this time she didn’t do the licking-up act. But as I shoveled the semen from her face to her lips, she opened her mouth willingly and swallowed happily. Soon, we were back together in the bedroom, cuddling.

3 AM, she was asleep, but the “rape” thing had been so hot, I wasn’t asleep. I woke her up: “Part your thighs. I want to put it inside.”

“Now?!”

“Why not?”

“Umm.”

Soon, we were asleep, organs joined, two of my fingers in her mouth.

Day 3 was a Saturday so she was home all day. We woke late. I asked her how it felt last night.

“It was humiliating. But yeah, it was really hot.”

“I used your face like a tissue. I just spurted all over it without telling you. How was that?”

“It was… humiliating. But I loved it.”

“What did you love?”

“The taste of the semen. I think it was the vodka that made it taste so lovely.”

That’s my girl!

“What if I just masturbate now and ejaculate on your pillow?”

“I’ll rub my face on it. Then I’ll lick it up. Then I’ll keep it in my mouth.”

“Give me your bra. I want to masturbate and ejaculate into it. Will you wear it?”

“I’d love that. Fresh, creamy man-semen on my breasts with my bra on.”

That’s my girl!

And I’ll never forget the shower incident after that. I emerged from the bathroom wearing a towel, and she said: “Why that towel? To cover your cock?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Take it off. I want to see that gorgeous penis hanging and swaying.” It sounded like a command.

So I took off the towel and walked toward her—and then: “Keep walking. I want to see it swaying. I love seeing it sway.”

“You love my cock a lot, don’t you?”

And in a voice that sounded as though she were in love with me: “Yes. It’s what gives me my man-juice.”

“If you love man-juice so much… would you like it if two men gave you semen at the same time?”

She thought for a bit. And then, in a tone of pure lust:

“Yes. I’d love that. Two men will give more semen than one.”

“What about… ten men?”

“Unnh! I’d love it! Yeah I need it. I need semen.”

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