A Very Spunky Lady

This is a story about a sperm fetish. If the thought of that is distasteful or repugnant to you, you really should avoid this story. It was inspired by a suggestion of a Literotica reader, who wishes to remain anonymous. I should also note that there is also a bit of a first time theme to this story, at least in the first half. All of the characters are at least eighteen years old.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I love a man's sperm. What's not to love? It's clearly the most important and wonderful gift a man can provide a woman. It's so clearly much better than flowers, lingerie, or even jewelry. Those are just material things. The stuff of a man's balls are the seeds of life: my future baby, our future child. What could be more wonderful than that?"

These were all good arguments. Dr. Lowenstein would have to agree with that.

Marilyn was one of Dr. Lowenstein's newest patients. She wasn't actually a patient though. She was here just for a diagnostic evaluation, requested on behalf of the chess coach.

Marilyn was lying on Dr. Lowenstein's analyst's couch, looking up at the ceiling as she discussed her interest, her passion, her love; for male seed. She wasn't too sure that it was in fact a problem. Could it really be? But, after the chess incident, she was informed by the coach in no uncertain terms that she needed to seek a professional evaluation. But, that comes later in the story. It's probably best to begin at the beginning.

Well, the very beginning did probably date back to childhood, embedded within the parent-child relationship. Most forms of psychopathology trace their roots to early "object relationships," as Dr. Lowenstein's mentor liked to say. But that form of deep analysis would only come late in treatment. Dr. Lowenstein didn't figure to need more than one session to reach a diagnosis.

"When did you first notice your, um, interest?" Dr. Lowenstein inquired. She cursed herself though for hesitating in her wording for the patient's paraphilic obsession, if not preoccupation, with male sperm. As an analyst she strived to be non-judgmental, and certainly worked hard at not revealing any potential bias in the content or even tone of voice or manner of speech. It was precisely for this reason that she sat behind Marilyn, out of her line of vision, so that the patient could not read into her expression, or any subtle body movement, a sign of disapproval (or just as bad, personal pleasure). But, she had momentarily tipped her hand when she hesitated in how she described Marilyn's "interest" in male sperm.

Marilyn though did not appear to notice, at least not consciously. And, if she had she probably would not have minded. Dr. Lowenstein was, after all, a well regarded sex therapist (e.g., "Teddy visits a therapist," and "Dr. Lowenstein's group therapy"), and it should not be surprising if she did in fact consider Marilyn's passionate interest to be a perversion. Clearly the chess coach, Mr. Fischer, was so inclined. Still, Marilyn was hoping that Dr. Lowenstein would cum, or come, to appreciate that it was a reasonably normal predilection, a harmless fondness, an innocent proclivity.

"Goodness, let me think, let me think," Marilyn pondered.

Dr. Lowenstein was tempted to remind the patient that she should just say the first thing that came to mind, letting her thoughts gush forth without censorship or restraint. But, it was also wise to let the patient take her own path. As long as she was making progress, the rate of travel would be her own.

"Well, I don't think it was until I was eighteen years old. I really hadn't had that much experience before then."

Dr. Lowenstein nodded. Dr. Lowenstein worked through the Templeton College psychological clinic. She had now seen quite a few Templeton students in therapy for sexual dysfunction, and it was striking how so many of them were quite inexperienced prior to college. It all changed once they entered college, clearly an effect of leaving the tight apron strings of their family home. Templeton students typically came from very conservative families, with parents who hoped that the administration of Templeton would watch their children as closely as they had been watched at home. Dr. Lowenstein felt that this degree of parental control was more problematic than helpful, contributing to a dysfunctional and at times even a dyscontrolled sexual adjustment as they wrestled with the freedom and stimulation they experienced at college.

Marilyn continued her story. "I guess it was awhile ago. I was on a date, with Mike. He's my boyfriend. We hadn't really done anything up until that point, other than kissing and necking, you know, and, well..." She hesitated to add this point. "Some fondling." Once she said it though she found that she was comfortable talking about it. "I really like it when Mikey fondles my..."

"Your breasts?" The doctor finished the sentence for her.

"Yes," Marilyn acknowledged, her face reddening but she did absentmindedly reach up and lightly place a hand on her breast.

Dr. Lowenstein observed the young woman's hand touching her bosom. It was striking how patients will seem to forget that the therapist is there, but that was, of course, the full intention of sitting out of the patient's line of vision. You wanted the patients to feel comfortable saying virtually anything, although perhaps not doing virtually anything, at least something not under the doctor's direct personal control and guidance. But, Dr. Lowenstein wasn't about to alert the patient to the fact that she seemed to be fondling her breast. That would only make Marilyn feel self-conscious and likely inhibit her free speech, her free associations. "He has such gentle hands, and he will so nicely squeeze...them." Marilyn released a deep sigh as she fondly recalled his fondling, while softly squeezing her own boob. She even lightly pinched her nipple. A warmth was developing within her thighs.

"We would really go at it sometimes, I must admit." Marilyn giggled at the memory. "Well, we certainly did that one night. We were lying down on my parents' couch. Mike has a room at the dorm but I still live at home, which is fine 'cause when my parents go out we have a whole house to ourselves. In any case, we really were going at it pretty hot and heavy. Frankly, at the time it was really too much too quick for me. I felt I really wasn't ready for that, and for what happened." Marilyn recounted the story for the doctor.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had started off with just kissing, long and sustained kissing, eventually leading to some tongue action, which itself became rather intense.

Marilyn did really enjoy French kissing. There was something about exchanging tongues, playing around with her tongue in Michael's mouth, then his tongue in her mouth, wiggling and squirming one's tongues around each other. It could get pretty sloppy and wet after awhile, but proper decorum was not the priority when French kissing.

Michael then slipped his hand onto Marilyn's breast. He never did that right away. He knew, or at least he figured, that Marilyn had to be good and ready before he could do that, and it was a very good sign when she was slipping him her tongue as he touched her breast.

"Oh, Mikey," she softly sighed when she felt his hand touch her.

Yes, she was ready. Michael began to gently and carefully fondle, caress, and even squeeze Marilyn's soft, young squishy boob. Why it felt so good to feel and fondle a girl's boob was beyond his ken. He just knew that it did, and his cock did so as well. It was straining within his slacks. Hoping that they would at some point be in their current position Michael had been careful to wear his loosest boxers. Perhaps tonight would be the night when Marilyn actually touched him, down there. He so, so, so much wanted her to do that.

She never seemed to take the hint, and he had clearly hinted at it a few times. The clearest hint was simply its obvious presence, poking out his pants like he had a stiff rod stuck in there, which was in fact precisely the case.

Marilyn though seemed to act like she didn't even notice its presence. If they weren't kissing she was snuggling, but always seeming to not make eye contact with his erection. He would try to make some sort of physical contact, but they usually necked sitting in a car, or sitting together somewhere. So it wasn't that easy to position his body so that his stiff dick was pressing against a thigh, or a bottom, or best of all, against her cunnie.

He had, of course, considered just taking her hand and placing it on his erection. That would be well beyond a hint, but being so direct would be precisely the problem. Heck, it hadn't been that long ago that she had taken hold of his hand to move it away from her breast. Being so forward as to put her hand on his cock ran the risk of losing whatever progress had been made to date. She might just get all upset and shut everything down.

But, tonight was different. They were not sitting together on the couch. They were lying together on the couch and, more precisely, he was lying on top of her, their tongues entangled, licking and lapping away in each other's mouths like thirsty puppies, his hand fondling and squeezing her boob, occasionally even tweaking and pinching her nipple, which wasn't really that easy through her blouse and brassiere. If only he could get his hand under her blouse. That would be so, so cool! But, that day was probably weeks away.

At least though, in this position, she would have to notice his erection, and notice it in manner that would be very suggestive indeed, as he pressed it against the front of her, right against her cunnie mound.

The first contact was simply electric. Actual physical contact with a girl's cunt was so fantastic, even it was through her dress and panties. He could actually feel the softness of her mound, its warmth, pressing against his stiff dick. Frankly, if he had wanted to he could have cum right then, right within his pants and boxers. It would be an "accident" that would not be at all undesirable, albeit it would certainly be terribly embarrassing.

Marilyn's eyes opened wide when she felt Mike's dick pressing against her cunnie. It was quite the close encounter of the first kind, perhaps even the second, and it was very startling indeed. Marilyn instantly felt her cunnie warming and moistening. Michael's penis felt so hard and stiff through his pants. She raised her pelvis, as subtly as one could do such a thing, not wanting to appear forward or slutty as she was pressing her cunnie harder against him, against his hard, stiff penis.

The movement was perhaps subtle to Marilyn, but it wasn't to Mike. His radar, his antenna, for any signs of rejection were on high alert, and when he got the signal that Marilyn was not only accepting the contact but was even literally embracing it, he responded in kind. He pressed his dick back against her, pushing her pelvis back down into the couch.

Marilyn released her lips from Mike's and gasped, "Oh Mikey," as she felt his erection pressing hard against her. She wondered what it looked like, in real life, how big it might be. But, she did not dare touch it. That would probably be going much too far. She did want Mike to respect her, to love her for more than just a means with which to pleasure himself, but with his hard penis now firmly pressed against her womanliness, her femininity, she could not help but wonder, and desire, to feel more, to see more. She instinctively, naturally, squirmed her hips, rubbing her cunnie against his stiff, hard rod. It felt so, so good.

"Oh Marilyn, yes," Michael gasped in return, squeezing her breast hard, rubbing and massaging her nipple with his thumb. He grinded his dick against the girl's receptive, willing cunt.

"Mikey, Mikey," Marilyn moaned in her increasing lust, softly whimpering as she felt her cunnie further soften and moisten, seeming to melt at the touch of his hot metal rod.

Michael became even more bold in his actions, no longer just rubbing and grinding but now even thrusting, simulating the movements that would occur if he was in fact fucking her, which he felt he was now essentially doing.

"Mike, wait, wait," Marilyn suddenly exclaimed.

Michael froze in position. He had gone too far! He knew he should have taken his time. But, they had just gotten so carried away. How could you reasonably expect a guy to constrain, to restrain himself at a time like this. Frankly, she should feel lucky that he hadn't actually taken his cock out and lifted up her skirt. But, now she was going to tell him to slow down, perhaps even stop for the evening as they had gone much too far already.

"Your belt, it hurts," Marilyn softly explained.

"Oh gosh! I'm sorry!" Michael was mortified. It kind of ruined the moment to actually be poking and scratching his girl with the metal of his belt buckle. That was hardly romantic, or sensual. But, Michael suddenly realized that an opening had been created. "Here," he said, pulling his pelvis away from her body to reach down and undo his buckle. Of course, he couldn't just undo it. That would be insufficient, perhaps even making things worse because now the buckle would be loose and more easily an irritant. Before Marilyn could object he also undid the clasp of his pants and pulled down his zipper. It wasn't that easy doing all this quickly and with just one hand, he needed the other to keep himself propped up over her prone body. But, there are some things that guys are very skilled at doing, and one of them is rapidly undoing their slacks at times like these.

Marilyn though wasn't thinking of objecting. She wasn't really thinking at all. She was instead mesmerized by the sight of the bulge in Michael's slacks. She had previously avoided looking at it. She knew it was there. It had to be there and sometimes she had in fact even noticed it, but she had always tried to keep it out of her line of vision: out of sight and out of mind.

But, now, she couldn't take her eyes off of it, his thing, Mike's manly, stiff thing; the hard, stiff thing that had been thrusting against her cunnie, that she had been holding tightly against her, grinding her cunnie against, feeling its hardness, its stiffness, against her softness, her warmth. It was his penis, his erect penis! Her breasts rose up and down with her heavy, lustful breathing as she watched her boyfriend undo his slacks, and open them up, leaving only his boxers between her eyes and his hard, erect manliness.

Mike even pulled his slacks down a bit because if he didn't the belt and buckle could just work themselves in between their bodies. He almost ejaculated with the realization that he was in fact pulling down his pants in front of a girl, Marilyn, exposing to her eyes his boxers (thank goodness his loosest boxers weren't that terribly worn or frayed), as well as his stiff dick, which was now very obvious indeed. He paused a moment before he laid back down on Marilyn, wanting her to get a good look at it, hinting again that perhaps she might actually want to touch it, to feel it, to stroke it.

Marilyn did not bite at the temptation, but she did enjoy the offer. She did though pull her arms tighter around Michael to bring his body, and his stiff hardness, back down to her, to again feel his stiffness pressed against her softness.

Marilyn was not wearing the Templeton school uniform. If she had been perhaps the skirt might have been pulled up through the course of Mike's thrusting, or at least he might have tried to push it up. It would not have been that hard to do so.

Marilyn, however, was wearing a long but very loose and thin summer skirt. It was her favorite summer skirt as she felt she looked really quite cute in it, and she was right about that. It was a gaily colored print, sprinkled with all sorts of spring wild flowers. It was too long though to be able to be readily pushed up, but fortunately it was also quite thin, and Marilyn immediately noticed the difference in the feel of Mike's erection against her cunnie, now that the relatively thick barrier of his slacks was removed. "Oh Mike," she sighed as his hardness pressed against her feminine mound.

"Here, wait," Michael said. "I need to um..." He squeezed his hand down in between them, ostensibly to shift his erection into a more comfortable position.

Marilyn giggled at the thought of what he was doing. It was kind of funny, as well as exciting, thinking about her boyfriend being so hard that his penis got stuck in his pants.

But, Michael was in fact slipping his erection out through the flap of his boxers. It was a risky move, but he could claim that it had just accidentally slipped out through all the rubbing and grinding, and perhaps once Marilyn saw it she would want to touch it. Maybe even kiss it? His dick twitched at just the thought of that, which was really wishing for much too much. He returned his hand to Marilyn's breast.

"Oh my goodness," Marilyn softly sighed when she felt Mike's erection again hug her cunnie. It was almost like they were touching bare skin to one another. It wasn't really, but it was considerably more intimate than she had ever experienced before. She could now clearly feel its outline against her tummy and cunnie: the soft round knob, the curved lips of his crown, and the full, thick shaft.

Michael resumed his dry humping, although now proceeding at a much slower, sensual pace. "Mmmmm," Marilyn sighed with pleasure, and returned the gesture, spreading her thighs wider, making little circular motions with her hips, softly massaging the boy's big stiff penis with her warm femininity. It just felt so nice, so wonderful. She nuzzled her lips in Mike's neck and gave him little tender pecks and kisses.

Michael let go of Marilyn's breast, with some reluctance. Once there you really don't want to leave. But, he had another, even better purpose for his hand.

He squeezed it in between the couch and Marilyn's bottom to grasp hold of her soft, pliant derriere. Which is more fun to squeeze, a breast or a bum? Probably a breast, but this was the first time that Michael had in fact had his hand so intimately on Marilyn's bottom, and the first time is often the best time.

Marilyn didn't even seem to mind. On the contrary, she softly exclaimed into his neck, "Oh Mikey," gave him a little nibble, and squeezed him tighter with her arms.

Michael's grasping of Marilyn's bottom had an additional purpose, as it provided an even more effective means with which to press and squeeze her cunnie against his cock. He pulled her cunt hard against his dick.

Marilyn even lifted her legs up, spread open her thighs, and wrapped her legs around the back of Mike's legs and butt, getting him in a very lewd and lascivious scissor hold, pressing his body, his stiff dick, even tighter against her, if that was in fact possible, and she resumed a more lascivious grinding and lurching of her cunt against Mike's stiff penis, his dick, his cock.

Michael accelerated his movements as well, now providing a more explicit thrusting and driving.

It felt terribly obscene to Marilyn, and it probably looked even worse. After all, they seemed to be actually having sex with each other. It was still though with their clothes on and so it really wasn't actual sex. It was certainly far short of really doing it. It was pretending to be doing it, and that was really quite innocent indeed, wasn't it?

It certainly wasn't innocent to Michael, however. He felt like he was actually fucking Marilyn and, in his mind, and in his body, he was indeed doing precisely that. He gave it to her like he had always wanted to, in his dreams: hard and fast.

Marilyn had never felt so aroused, so excited, so horny. Well, actually, she had, when she masturbated in the privacy of her bedroom, late at night. But, never this time with a boy, a guy, in her arms, gyrating and humping him like a bitch in heat. She fiercely humped in return, scratching her fingernails into Mike's back and whimpering into his ear, "Oh, Mikey, it feels so big and hard!"