A Remarkably Potent Man

Anthony set a fresh Manhattan in front of me and said, "From the lady at the end of the bar..." He eyed me for a few moments with his bushy brows raised in a silent apology, wiped his hands on a bar towel and stepped away. I stared at the drink, refusing to make eye contact with the woman. A movement in the big mirrored bar-back caught my eye. I grimaced as I watched her approach tentatively, pausing once to check her phone-- to verify I was the man she was looking for, I guessed.

A few moments later there was a feminine touch on my shoulder as the woman sidled into the stool next to me. "Hey, beautiful. Do you mind if I sit here?" she cooed.

"Not interested," I said casually, hoping she would just go away. She stayed anyway.

"Oh, come on, honey. This hen has a basket full of eggs but just needs a little more... cock," she said with a well practiced giggle.

Not bothering to comment on her chicken metaphor, I glanced at her, shook my head and said again, "Not interested."

Undeterred, the woman pulled down the front zipper of her micro-dress, exposing fleshy, powdered melon tops. The diamond rings on her fingers glittered in the bar lights as she pulled her boobs apart to better arrange them on their fabric sling. She had a silver winged penis, dangling between her tits. Charming.

Abruptly, she reached out and yanked at my shoulder saying, "C'mon, sweet-dick, let's go make some babies."

I shook her hand off my shoulder, swiveled on my stool and scowled. Her steel blue eyes and pouty red lips, along with her impressive decolletage, might have tempted me to take her to a back room--but, in another time and age. Not tonight. I watched her legs spread a bit wider, hiking that dress up even higher.

She reached out to grab my crotch, perhaps thinking an earnest show of appreciation might entice me.

I swatted her hand away.

"Fuck... me..." muttered my buddy Peter from the bar stool behind me, shaking his head with an equal measure of disgust and wonder.

I glanced over my shoulder and chuckled. "That's a good idea," I said, "Fuck HIM!"

The woman peered around me and eyed my friend warily. Pete is six foot two, clean-cut blonde with a broad, well-muscled chest and arms as thick as fence posts. He preened on his stool to better exhibit his physique and smiled seductively. But, she wasn't buying. She blinked twice and her face turned sour. She made an indignant sound as she clomped away awkwardly on thick, too-tall heels.

Pete nudged my back and said, "Hey, what'd she say?"

I turned to him and said, "I believe she said 'Harrumph.'"

The novelty of my situation wore off long ago.

A century of climate change, solar flares and junk food had conspired to drop human reproduction into the basement, or so they said. Religious folks said it was the end of days. Scientists said 'we told you so.' Politicians said it was all a hoax and would pass in time. But we weren't so lucky. Human sperm counts HAD dropped and were now genetically fixed near zero.

Except for a few of us.

Some of us still had potency to spare. We were measured, tested, and wore the USDA stamp of approval on our chests, marking us as Grade A prime breeding stock. My friend Pete could fuck any woman all day long, purely for pleasure, but for me it was serious business. I was government-certified, guaranteed to impregnate; and every woman wanted a piece of me. (After all, it WAS their patriotic duty.) Sex wasn't a game anymore, at least not for me.

"It's just not fair," whined Pete.

"Awe, jeez, man!" I said, rolling my eyes. "Don't start with that again."

"I don't think I want to be your wing-man any more," Pete mewled. "You weren't very nice to that woman. You chased her away!"

"Listen up, bud," I said. "Did you see she was wearing a borrowed dress that is a size too small and a decade too young? She skipped the small talk and went straight for the punchline. Maybe she's been coached, maybe she saw that in a how-to video, but either way, she was NOT looking for companionship. She just wanted fifteen loveless minutes with me for free. Fuck that!"

I could feel the flush in my face and my blood pressure rising, so I splayed my fingers on the bar and focused on a cocktail napkin. As my temper cooled, I looked over at Pete and saw a face both disappointed and nearly goofy drunk.

"So, I get it...." I continued with a sigh. "I know there are a lot of desperate women out there hoping to beat their biological clock, but I've done my duty. Holy crap! God knows how may kids I've fathered- probably hundreds, maybe thousands. I want to retire from the business and have some fun. I want a companion, some romance... maybe even love."

Pete hung his head and muttered, "Sorry, man."

A thick hand thumped on the bar as a man sat next to me. He ordered a drink from Anthony and opened his wallet to pay. He made a great show of pulling out a stack of hundreds and glanced over at Pete and me. "Let's have another round for my new friends here too!" he said to the bartender.

"The name's Patterson," the man said with a toothy grin as he held out his hand for me to shake.

"Nice to meet you," I said indifferently. Pete just waved without looking up from his beer.

Patterson looked left and then right before leaning over and whispering, "Say, I was wondering. Could I convince you to fuck my wife?"

I was late for my standing appointment at the Federal Semen Reserve Depository. Nancy, the extractor, had put on the wrong video and I found myself alone in the room watching two slippery hunks wanking each other off. Far from aroused, I could feel my cock shriveling in embarrassment.

The office door suddenly swung open and Nancy re-entered with a cheerful "How we doing in here?" She glanced down at my dick laying over on its side and scowled. Another look at video screen, and she knew exactly what had happened.

"Oh, I'm soooo sorry!" she said as her face flushed. She clicked the TV off with a remote and turned back to me. "It looks like we're gonna have to wake up the little man the old fashioned way." She smiled to reassure me, patted my hand and began her work.

With well-practiced motion, Nancy operated the padded table controls to lay me out flat on my back. She deftly belted my chest and secured my arms with padded cuffs. (All for security purposes, of course.) She yanked my pants completely off and shackled my legs at the knees and ankles. She adjusted the overhead light to illuminate my groin area, and stepped back to examine her preparations thoughtfully with her arms crossed.

Nancy then languidly removed her clothes, considerately folding each piece before setting it aside and moving on to the next. I didn't need to see what was happening between my legs, because by the time she was fully naked, I was fully aroused.

She bent over, opened a drawer to retrieve rubber gloves and made sure I could see her puffy pussy peeking out between her shapely thighs.

Nancy turned around to face me as she snapped on gloves, squirted lube into her palm, glanced at my erection, smiled. "Ah, that's better. Much better," she said.

"Uh. Is this...uh... normal?" I asked nervously.

"Oh," said Nancy, "We could put you to sleep and use electro-ejaculation, but I prefer to stick with the manual process. Since the video didn't work, I thought it might be quicker to do it this way."

"Oh, uh, OK." I said.

She moved in close and I could feel her cinnamon breath on my face and her breasts on my chest. "Besides," she said, "It's much more fun this way." Her eyes sparkled violet-blue and she had an impish grin as I felt her gloved hand wrap around my pecker. A few moments later, she straightened, dug her fingers under my balls and stroked me earnestly with her other hand.

The weight of her breasts had turned her nipples slightly outward. They were so compelling. I watched them sway until my sperm was discharged.

With the extraction complete, Nancy released my cock and snapped the lid on the sanitized container. She returned to the counter and picked up a marker to write donor information and a batch number on the paper label. Blissfully unbothered that she was naked, she bent over again to place my fresh semen into climate-controlled storage.

"Oh, my!" said Nancy as she popped up by my side and saw my still-erect penis.

"Uh... I'm sorry. I just. I just..." I stammered.

Nancy tossed her gloves into a waste bin across the room, but her eyes never left my cock. She bent over and examined my penis which still pulsed. A bit of semen oozed out and dribbled down the side of my shaft. She asked distractedly, "Should I?"

I wasn't sure if that was a question for me exactly, but I answered, "Yes."

Without another word, Nancy climbed up and swung her leg over my torso. She neatly inserted my cock into her vagina and sat smoothly down. She placed her hands on my chest and rocked her hips till her eyes rolled back into her head. Her lovely tits bounced in time till her body seized up and she reached orgasm.

And so did I. Again.

"And, then what happened?" asked Pete.

"Well, she said 'give me a minute' and then she went over in the corner and stood on her head," I replied.

"Naked?" he asked incredulously.

"Well,... yeah!" I admitted.

"Why'd she do that?" Pete asked.

"Fuck, if I know. Then, she got dressed and unbuckled my restraints. She walked me up to the front desk with my chart and said goodbye. And... that was it," I said.

Pete shook his head and said dejectedly, "Man, you have ALL the fun."

"Hey listen," I said. I lowered my voice and continued, "Don't tell anyone about this, because it might have been illegal."

"Say what?" he said.

"Well, unlicensed breeding in a state facility is technically against the law. And, I'm not sure if you would call this intentional or accidental, but I'm pretty sure..."

"Oh man," said Pete shaking his head.

I took a sip of water from my plastic bottle, and smiled to myself. Nancy the extractor was unexpected. I had more fun than I thought. I might even come early next time.

We both stared out at the lake across the bike path, watching dragon flies buzz across the water. It had taken almost 13 miles to tell Pete that story, so it felt good just resting in the shade for a few minutes. A warm breeze rustled the leaves over us and a distant rhythmic crunch of foot falls wafted through the air.Pete absently flipped the pedal on his bike and we both peered down the trail.

Crunch, crunch, crunch...

A lone runner, a woman, was jogging up the path toward us. She ran gracefully through puddles of broken sunlight. I took another sip from the bike bottle.

Crunch, crunch, crunch...

A pretty girl, she was. As she got closer, Pete stopped fiddling with his bicycle and I forgot about my bottle. She had straight brown hair that swung back and forth, short red running shorts and a jogging bra. Her tanned legs stroked effortlessly up the path.

Pete nudged me and said, "Hey. Don't say anything, OK?" I nodded and turned again to watch the runner.

Crunch, crunch, crunch...

Pete raised his hand to catch the jogger's attention as she passed in front of us. A look of alarm crossed her face and her legs suddenly went out from under her. She fell into the thick grass by the lake. Pete and I jumped up immediately to help.

"Keep your hands off me, you creep!" the girl yelled at Pete as she yanked her elbow from his grasp. Pete shrunk back from her withering venom.

"Hey, lady, he was just trying to help you!" I offered with my hands spread apologetically.

The girl glanced at me and then back at Pete. Her scowl softened but only a little bit. She said, "OK, fine. I'm OK. Just let me..." Her face was red as she struggled to her feet. I watched her take a tentative step, then another. Suddenly, she folded her foot under and fell into me.

I caught her and, feeling helpless, I glanced over at Pete. He rolled is eyes, shook his head and turned away muttering.

'Harrumph!' he said.

"Answer the question!" demanded Officer Johnson.

I was seated in an interrogation room at a bare metal table. Before me were photographs of four women that Officer Johnson had dealt out like playing cards. She was a striking black woman dressed in a fashionable, blue linen business suit. Intricate corn rows laced her head. She tapped her purple acrylic nails impatiently, waiting for my response.

Sure I could hear laughing behind the huge one-way mirror, I twisted half around to see, but Johnson slammed her fist on the table.

"Hey scumbag! Eyes over here!" she yelled.

I jumped and turned back around, pretending to study the photographs. Sure, all of the faces looked familiar, but I see a lot of women, and frankly had no idea what this was all about.

"I... I recognize them, yes." I offered timidly."Tell me which ones!" she commanded.

"Ah... All of them? But, but, hey, I don't know their names. In my business, names are not really important," I explained.

She looked at me incredulously and said, "You fuck fertile young woman for money, and you don't remember their names?"

More giggling from behind the glass...

"Well, in my business, it's usually a one shot deal," I said, shrugging. "I don't really get a lot of repeat customers."

Officer Johnson straightened up in her chair and gathered up the photographs. "Business must be bad," she said as she returned one of the glossies to the table. She punched it with an acrylic nail and said, "This woman has filed a complaint against you."

"What?!!" I exclaimed as I looked closer at the photo. "Wait a minute. This is the woman who assaulted me in the park two weeks ago!"

"That's not what SHE said." chuckled Officer Johnson. She let me stew a moment with my mouth hanging open before continuing. "She said you wanted to charge her more than a million dollars for sex!"

"I did not!" I roared indignantly.

Officer Johnson leaned forward, smiled conspiratorially and said, "The sexual usury laws in this state are very strict. You could be locked up for a very, very long time."

"Now wait a minute! She accosted ME! She pretended to twist her ankle and when I went to help, she pulled her top off and started to manhandle me. What I told her was, I wouldn't have sex for her for a million dollars!" I pleaded.

The police officer rocked back in her seat and eyed me suspiciously. "Likely story, scum bag." she said.

The room was silent and the air was stuffy as Officer Johnson continued to stare at me. She leaned forward and said acidly, "Listen, I don't like you. I'd like you send you to the slammer for few years of ball-milking. You are a hazard to women everywhere!"

I sat red-faced and silent, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

"But, I can't." she sighed. "I don't have enough evidence... YET!" Officer Johnson leaned in with a salacious, ruby lipped grin and a purple painted nail held high. She said, "We WILL need a lineup to verify the facts of this case though."

Twenty minutes later my back was against the wall of a line-up room with four other guys; two tall black guys held on drunk and disorderly charges, a Hispanic man in on a weapons beef and an elderly Chinese man from the Chop Suey place next door.

"Number three, step forward." came the voice over the speaker. I did."Number three, drop your pants," the voice commanded.

I dropped my pants to my ankles.

"Number three, underwear too." said the voice.

I complied and the two drunk guys started snickering.

"Numbers one and two, step forward and remove your pants and underwear."

The black guys stepped forward and enthusiastically stripped for whoever was directing this circus behind the one-way mirror.

There was a long silence and we stood there with our dicks hanging in the wind.

Finally the speaker clicked on and we heard, "....mmmm nice." The speaker clicked a couple times more times and the voice came back. "Ahem. We have what we need. You may re-dress. An officer will escort you from the room shortly."

Pete picked me up from the police station and we sped away in his semi-restored, vintage Chrysler Cordoba. 'Corinthian Leather' is impossible to find these days, so I found myself sliding around on slippery vinyl in the back seat as we rounded each curve.

"Hey, can you slow down?" I yelled. "This isn't a get-away!"

Pete stomped on the brake and the car nose-dived, throwing me forward into the headrests. "Sorry, man. I haven't fixed the suspension yet," Pete apologized as he slowed to the speed limit.

"It's OK," I said as I rubbed my nose.

"He's has other things to spend his money on," said a woman in the front passenger seat.

"Oh! This is Beatrice." said Pete introducing his new girlfriend. "We met the other day at the gym."

Beatrice poked her face over the seat and wiggled her fingers. "Hi," she said with a broad smile and bright blue eyes.

I smiled back and said, "Nice to meet you Beatrice, I'm..."

"Oh, I know who you are." interrupted Beatrice. She paused to swipe back her blond wind-blown hair. "I've seen your photos and sperm counts on Amazon."

Oh, Christ, no! I covered my face and stretched out on the vinyl bench seat with my head propped up on the armrest. Pete was a good friend and women had tried to use him to get to me before. Someone, somehow, was going to get disappointed.

"So, why did they let you go?" interjected Pete.

"I made bail," I answered flatly.

"Wait a minute. Don't they still require cash bail?" asked Pete from the drivers seat.

"Yeah, well,... or payment in kind." I answered.

Pete and Beatrice knew exactly what I meant. For a few moments silence hung in the air as my forced surrender to undersexed police women sunk in.

"I think that's terrible!" said Beatrice self-righteously.

"Well, it's really OK..." I said.

"Gross! Raped by big burly police women?" Pete exclaimed. The pleather under him squeaked as he squirmed at the thought.

"No. No. It really wasn't that bad..." I offered.

"Horrible! Just horrible. We should file a complaint or something!" said Beatrice getting more and more steamed.

"Uh, I wouldn't say...'Horrible.' In fact, it was pretty, well, pleasurable." I said.

"What?" said Pete. He looked over at Beatrice for help. She added, "You mean you enjoyed being coerced and raped by the police?"

"It wasn't exactly like that. I made an offer, and they accepted." I explained.

"They?" asked Pete, who was righteously confused.

"Yeah, the majority of the officers in this squad are women. With some help from my brothers in lockup, we managed to -er- satisfy them all."

Pete and Beatrice sat in stunned silence, unsure what to say, so I continued. "At first, they called me a scumbag, but I managed to spread a little seed and win some converts. Balling in the station was kinda different, even kinda... fun. In fact, I have an appointment next week with one of the officers."

I dug a crumpled business card out of my jeans, held it up and read, "Tamara Johnson. Detective... She's a real ball-buster on the job, but, holy crap, she's good in the sack. She has these massive tits and big thighs and..."

"Enough!" said Pete and Beatrice in unison.

"More!" yelled Tamara. "Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!"

The woman's ass was wide and jiggly, but I held it from the sides and continued to plunge my bone white cock into her bright pink tunnel. Her head rocked up with each thrust and the muscles in her back rippled up and down her spine. Sweat was pouring off me and I will admit my stamina was wearing thin.

I glanced at the nightstand. It's drawer was hanging open and was filled with dildos of every color and size. Right on top was her service weapon and badge; All a reminder that this woman loves sex-- and could hurt me if I disappointed.

A week ago she busted my chops for a bogus charge at the police station, but there were no hard feelings. She was just doing her job. But I she'd shown uncommon sexual energy in the station, unlike many of my clients who just lay there passively and kick me to the curb when it's over. When she invited me over for dinner and a little sex, I didn't hesitate.