An Asexual Breeding

I liked Kelly from the day she first started working at the next desk over from mine. She was funny and smart and nice. It certainly didn't hurt that she was super cute, with strawberry blonde hair framing her beaming, contagious smile. She was built thick, with extra padding in her chest, her hips, and her thighs. But most importantly, we got on well, which was a good thing, because we ended up working closely together, sharing a lot of the same accounts.

In my younger years, I might have made a move right away. But I had been down that road before. I knew office romance could be risky and complicated. Fourteen years ago, I got drunk at an office party and went home with a coworker. She was drunk too. It was a bad idea all around, exactly the kind of bad idea that alcohol is great at uninhibiting. I woke up with only a vague sense of what must have happened, but no actual memory of it. She got pregnant that night. I didn't want her to keep it. She didn't want me involved. In the end, I wound up paying child support, and moving to another city to get my career back on track.

If my younger self sounds like a jerk, I wouldn't blame you for thinking so. I like to think I've learned from the experience. It certainly has made me more cautious about who I get involved with, and how involved I'm willing to get. Maybe my dating life has suffered from over-caution since then, but better that than the alternative.

Anyway, a month after she started at the company, Kelly came out as asexual. I didn't really understand at first. A lot of people didn't. It ended up involving a lot more explanation than Kelly was probably anticipating, but after that, people in the office were very accepting.

It cleared things up for me, at least. As much as I was drawn to her, now I understood that I had no chance-no more than I would if she were a lesbian. As I understood it, she just wasn't attracted to any gender. No reason to think I'd ever be an exception.

Working closely with her over the years, we ended up becoming friends. We would duck out to lunch together often, so we could gossip about others in the office. Sometimes I took care of her cat when she was away. Sometimes she came over for cookouts at my place. Even amongst a group of mostly married couples, her humor and kindness always fit in. The first time she showed up, there might have been some suspicions about the two of us, but that didn't last.

Early on, I wondered why she had even bothered coming out. Her sexual orientation seemed like such a non-issue. If she wasn't with anyone, it wasn't like bigots could fault her for being with the wrong person. But over time, I started to see the point of it. Nobody pitied her on Valentine's Day. Nobody tried to set her up with their friends. Nobody assumed she was on a track to get married and settle down and have children. She had opted out of a lot of unhelpful social noise that I hadn't realized was there, and hadn't realized was optional. As someone unpartnered and not putting much effort into dating, I almost envied her for it.

One morning, she came in looking flustered. She sat down at her computer and started typing loudly.

"Kelly, is everything okay?" I asked. I was concerned she might be typing up her resignation, not that I knew of any reason why she would. There had to be something I was missing.

"Hang on, just let me finish this email, and then you'll see," she said.

I waited impatiently. As soon as she stopped typing, a message showed up in my inbox from her.

"Hey, want to come over for dinner tonight? I have something to talk to you about. -Kelly"

At least it wasn't something bad, but I was still confused. "What's this about?"

She looked around. "Not here, okay? Can you?"

I shrugged. It wasn't like I had any other plans. "Sure. Of course."

That seemed like a weight off of her. Now I was caught up wondering what this could be about, that she didn't want to talk about in the office. Did she need to borrow money? Was she in legal trouble?

When I arrived at her house, she was in better spirits, though there was still something tense about her. Her house was cozy and compact. It was a home for one, and that was all it ever could be.

We sat down to eat dinner, and I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. "So...what's all this about?"

She took a big breath. "I'm ready to have a baby."

All I could do was mull it over, and remember to chew my mouthful of pasta.

"Um...pardon me if this is ignorant, but how's that going to work, in your case?" I asked.

"Sperm and egg would be the traditional recipe," she joked. "I know in-vitro is an option, but I'm hoping to skip it if I can. It just seems too clinical, too expensive, too many questions asked. After all, it's only a two ingredient recipe, and I'm really only short on one of them. I was hoping I could borrow some...ingredients...from you."

I laughed for a second. She was still smiling, but she wasn't laughing. "Oh. Oh my gosh. Me? Why me?"

"Plenty of reasons, actually. I trust you. I'm pretty sure you're in good health. You have a track record of getting women pregnant easily. You have no interest in custody. And I know you're not in a relationship at the moment."

"Okay, guilty on all counts, I guess. You know I'm already paying child support for one kid, though," I said.

She picked up a piece of paper and slid it over to me. It had her signature at the bottom already. "Here. This all says you'll have no legal rights or responsibilities. Though if all goes according to plan, no one will even know you were involved."

"Wow," I said, trying to wrap my head around it. "I guess I'm supposed to think about this for more than two seconds, but whatever you have in mind, you can count me in."

"Okay. Should we begin tonight?" she asked.

She got up and went to her bedroom, just around the corner from the kitchen and dining area. She began quickly, unceremonially stripping out of her clothes.

After a moment of hesitation and disbelief, I followed suit. With anyone else, I might have felt self-conscious about my paunch, my body hair, my pasty skin. But I knew she probably couldn't care less.

Soon we were both naked, and I was seeing her that way for the first time. I knew it wasn't a display for me, but I couldn't take my eyes off her naked form. Part of me was already standing ready in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. But I didn't dare approach her at first.

I thought she might lie down on the bed, but off to one side, she had two chairs set up facing each other. She sat in one of them, motioning me to the other. I guess we were just in the bedroom for privacy.

"Here's what I'm thinking. You jack yourself off, and when you ejaculate, I'll catch it, and put it to use," she said.

My head was reeling. This was all moving really fast, and I could hardly believe it was real. Yet this also definitely wasn't how my fantasies about Kelly would have played out.

She slipped a hand down between her legs, and I could see her clit shining with moisture and expectation as she started to rub it with her finger. Her other hand was pressing on her breasts, caressing her neck, running fingers through her hair. Soon her gaze was glazed over, off in her own world.

Sitting across from her, with this vision of beauty and fertility before me, I was already as aroused as I'd been in years maybe. I felt rock hard and super sensitive. Maybe it was the awareness of what we might be accomplishing together. I could feel my peak approaching.

"I'm about to cum. Where do you want it?" I asked.

She took one hand away from pleasuring herself, and held it under the tip of my penis. Leaning closer, our knees just barely touched. The heat of her skin against mine in the cool room was enough to put me over the edge.

The first splash went further than she was expecting, landing up her forearm, but the rest poured down into her cupped hand. I milked all that I could out of my erection.

Then she took the fingers of her other hand, dipped them in the milky fluid, and pushed them up into her slit. She leaned back in her chair, legs spread wide, and shoveled the rest of it into herself.

If I hadn't just orgasmed, I might have gotten hard at the sight. As it was, I felt deflated and out of place. This was her big moment now. My part was done. She kept plunging her fingers into herself and rubbing her clit until she came, with a moan that she choked back.

When she came back down to earth, she asked, "I assume that's all you've got?"

It made me wonder how much she really knew about how this all worked, even in her early thirties. "For now, yeah. And with each repetition, you get...diminishing returns."

I didn't want to admit it, but I wasn't sure how quickly I'd be able to recover, or how many times in a row I'd even want to go through with this. I knew it wouldn't be like when I was younger.

"I think that was enough for me tonight anyway," Kelly said. "I'm exhausted."

"I didn't know you masturbated," I said. Just a few hours ago, it would have been an odd thing to say to a coworker, but now so much had changed.

"Every so often. More so when I ovulating. It's just a bodily function," she replied. "In this case, it increases the odds of conception. And then once I'm going, I might as well finish."

"That makes sense."

"Thanks for helping me out with this. Want to come back and do this again for the next two days?"

It wasn't the most pleasurable sexual experience I'd ever had, but I supposed it was at least better than beating myself off at home, where my seed would just go to waste. "Sure."

I drove home feeling odd. Still in disbelief about what had happened. And not entirely satisfied. I was being used in a way I wasn't used to.

At work the next day, what was strange was that nothing was strange. For Kelly, this changed nothing. I tried to act the same way. In the office, we didn't dare speak a word to each other about what had happened the previous night, or what was about to happen again. We shared a secret.

It felt surreal, showing up at her house again that night. I felt like my donation of genetic material the previous night might have been impulsive. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe we were making a mistake together. But she had made it clear that this was her decision to make, I was just helping bring it to fruition.

I went to the door, and she welcomed me in like normal. No hug or kiss, that wasn't her style. But she was glad I came, and I did enjoy her company.

Without much build-up, she asked, "So are you ready?"

I knew what she meant. My throat felt dry, but I nodded. "Sure, if you still want to."

She noticed how nervous and awkward I was. "If the way we did it before doesn't work for you, I can..."

"No, don't..." I began. I didn't like the idea of her doing something sexual with me that she didn't want to do, just to make me more comfortable. "I would never ask you to."

"You're not asking me to. I'm offering," she said. "It's going to be uncomfortable for me no matter what. Might as well put one of us at ease, right?"

I weighed it in my mind, but I still couldn't get over the idea of her forcing herself through it to please me. I didn't want that. "I don't think that would be fair at all."

"Okay," she said, and stepped into her bedroom to start undressing.

It happened much the same as before. If anything, I let myself take in the sight of her more, to relish in the vision and sound and smell of her naked form and what she was doing to herself. When I saw her shudder with orgasm, that put me over the edge. Because she was distracted, I had to catch the first of my load in my own hand before she remembered to reach out with hers. She was still roiling with the aftershocks of it when she pushed her semen-covered fingers into herself.

Afterwards, I asked her, "I'm curious, if you aren't turned on by other people, what do you masturbate to?"

For a second, I wondered if it was too personal. Then she answered, "I guess I just pay attention to my own body, and how it feels."

"Funny, that the same thing I masturbate to," I said.

"Ugh. Please don't," she said, visibly grossed out.

"Hey, I'm not the one telling someone else what to do with themselves," I replied.

"Fair enough. Just don't let your fantasies go too far. I've been down that road, and no one ends up happy. This isn't a relationship. This isn't going to be a relationship."

"Don't worry. I get that, loud and clear," I told her.

By the third time, it was starting to feel routine. A strange routine, maybe. One that other people might not understand. But between the two of us, it was starting to feel like just a thing we did. I wondered if this was the time that was going to get her pregnant, or if that had already happened.

After that, we stopped and waited for the results. For a little while, it was like nothing had ever happened between us. Except I now knew what Kelly looked like naked. I knew what it looked like when her body shook with her climax. I had seen her pushing my seed into herself. It fueled many a late night. Yet at work, we were just coworkers. Even outside work, I couldn't really say we were anything more than friends. Even though my semen had been inside her.

A couple weeks later, we were in the break room alone for once.

"Any luck?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't be. Yes, I was hoping it would happen right away, like it did for you before, but I know it's not guaranteed."

She was trying to put a positive face on it, but I could tell she was a bit disappointed, and I could sympathize.

A couple weeks after that, I got an email from her, even though she was taking the day off sick, allegedly. "Is tonight good?"

I told her I'd come by. When I got there, she seemed nervous again. She wasn't sick after all though. She was in a plush bathrobe, and when we went to the bedroom, with little pretext, she took that off, revealing her body to me all at once. I hustled to undress myself.

The chairs were configured a little differently this time. They were back to back, and positioned closer to each other, the open backs of the chairs almost touching.

"Straddle the back of the chair," she said.

I sat down on one, facing the back of it. My erection dangled in the gap.

"I thought it might help if your semen can go straight into me. So if it's okay with you, I'll take the tip of your penis into my vagina, and then you can jack off."

"Just the tip? I've heard that before," I joked.

"The way I've set it up, that's all it should be. To be clear, I don't want it to go any further. This isn't going to be intercourse. If you're okay with all of that?"

"I'm game for whatever. Your body, your rules," I said.

I was apprehensive. In some ways, this was a welcome escalation of intimacy from what we'd done before. In other ways, this presented a greater challenge to my self control. This was definitely going to be a bit of a trial, and I knew that if I failed it, my involvement in this whole project could easily be over.

She straddled the other chair and lowered herself down. It took some careful positioning and scooting the chairs closer, but when she settled her weight down on the other chair, she had the head of my cock just barely nudging into her hole.

It wasn't entirely comfortable, straining me slightly because of the angle it put my erection at. Even so, I could feel her heat and wetness on the head. It was tantalizing and tempting, but I had to resist the ingrained biological instinct to thrust myself further into her. Even if I tried, the chairs between us would have made it difficult. Her spread knees were also pressing back against mine.

When she started to rub her clit, I could feel that movement and tension in her slit. Careful not to touch her in unwelcome ways, I started sliding a hand up and down along my shaft, keeping pace with her. I could feel her heat building, her excitement flowing. It egged me on, even if she was indifferent to how it affected me.

Sooner than I expected, she reached her climax. With her free hand, she had to grip the back of her chair hard, so that her body wouldn't move relative to mine, even in the throes of it. I could feel her clench down tight around me, even just barely inside her as I was.

I followed shortly after, hardening and swelling up, before I gushed my fluid into her. That moment was when it was hardest to resist the urge to press further into her, all the way into her. If it weren't for the physical barrier between us, I might have. She gasped with surprise at the sudden invasion of my sperm. I kept stroking myself until I felt like I had spent all I had, though it was hard to say for sure, since I hadn't seen any of it. When I started to soften, I withdrew.

"I told you not to go in any further," she said.

It took me a second to realize what she meant. There had been a moment when I had felt myself reach a little deeper into her. "Sorry, it just...grows, right before the end."

For some reason, I felt more comfortable asking her things afterwards. "Have you had sex before?"

I worried that I had just taken her virginity, in some very strange way.

"Yeah. Enough to know that it doesn't do anything for me that I can't do better on my own." She went on to tell me about her early experiences, mostly in college, with young condom-clad guys who finished fast and didn't care about her satisfaction. Dalliances with young women who were just experimenting and didn't really know or care to find their way around, more into the idea than the act. And on rare occasions in the years since, the game-ified, perfunctory caresses of hookup app fuckbois of all genders.

My first reaction was that it was no wonder she had turned out asexual, given experiences like those. But I knew better than to say so. When I was at home again, alone later that night, I realized that it was probably her sexuality that led her to feel that way about those encounters. And it was probably her sexuality guiding her choice of partner.

I'd had sex across the whole spectrum, from mind-blowing, to mediocre, to whatever Kelly and I were doing, to times I didn't even remember. I knew some of my early experiences had been inexperienced and maybe unfulfilling, but I cherished them anyway, because of their significance to me, and because of my feelings for who they were with.

I went back the next night. She settled down onto me with a little more self-assurance. Again she took just the head of my cock inside herself, leaving the shaft exposed for me to handle. For my part, now at least I knew I could get through this without losing control. We were both more relaxed, and so that point at which we met felt more comfortable.

When I'd just been cumming into her hand, the idea that she might get pregnant from it was a bit abstract. Now, knowing that I had already cum in her pussy, knowing that I was about to do so again, the idea that she might get pregnant from it felt a little more obvious, and to my surprise, arousing.

At the crucial moment, I could feel myself lengthening, swelling, pushing slightly further into her, before the flood. When it came, it seemed to start her muscles contracting, clenching down on me, even though we were just barely conjoined. It took a few more breaths for her climax to reach its fullest. I tried to stay hard and ride it out. I couldn't be sure, but it almost seemed like I had pushed her over the edge.

"So are you planning to raise this kid on your own?" I asked, while we recovered.

"No, I'll be sharing custody with another woman like me," she said.

"Huh. Like divorcees, just without the marriage part first," I said. Somehow it hadn't occurred to me, but it made perfect sense for her.

"Exactly."