Fertility Clinic Pt. 03: The Harvest

Part 3 Fertility Clinic: The Harvest

During my tenure as an intern at the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic, my husband Jerry insisted on a nightly report of my activities there, with keen interest in the mechanics of the extraction devices that drew seminal fluid from male donors. We'd sit on the edge bed, legs dangling off. Jerry in his undershorts; me either in pj bottoms or in panties and Jerry's T shirt of the day. Tonight, I wore loose, soft, thin pj bottoms.

"I've been on the cleaning crew," I reminded him, "I keep the environment clinically sterile so that the samples harvested from the men aren't corrupted by harmful bacteria. Despite the hi-tech mechanics of the hitching post which produce the warmth and pulsations of a vagina, harvesting the semen is a natural process. But I'm puzzled."

"Puzzled," Jerry looked confused, "are you more concerned that I'm jealous or that I might like to prefer mechanical extraction to a natural emission?"

I threw the pillow in Jerry's face. "I'm puzzled you are more interested in hearing about harvesting the semen from the male donors in the facility than the women."

"Just checking the competition," Jerry smiled.

"Then it might interest you that, Dr Velour the director of the facility," I paused and smiled, "wants to move me up to Nurse's Assistant to broaden my experience as an intern and to bring me into direct involvement in the harvesting process. It's more money."

"We can always use that," Jerry pressed in closer.

"But I have to master a book," I thought of reaching for the book under my pillow, but hesitated. I bit my lip enticingly, "Maybe you should be jealous of taking a role in harvesting."

"Jealousy?" Jerry questioned. "Is that why you won't sneak me in? Are you afraid that I'll be a star donor, well sought after for his seed?"

Imagining Jerry's body hugging a hitching post at the Fertility Clinic going spasmatic as his man juice was drawn off, I wondered whether he'd become so addicted to mechanical release that recreational intercourse would become boring. "Am I afraid that you'll enjoy hitched to a post for harvest of sperm, induced to fantasize, and gyrated until your flow of spud is exhausted?" I challenged Jerry.

Why were we looking at each other, hearts beating and breaths drawn in synch? I wondered, unless we were being instinctively readied to struggle in the sheets for the upper berth.

A sparkling magnetism filled the air; my skin tingled, but neither Jerry nor I moved. When nothing happened, I continued, "The new job may lead to a permanent position. However, it requires some anatomical study and," I paused with a smile, "hands on training. Would you like a demonstration?"

Jerry leaned over ready to flip me face down sending my heart to race. "Stop," I held my arms up to assert control. "This is serious business." As I twisted to reach for the book, Jerry's hands were tugging at the waist band of my pj bottoms, sliding them down, partially baring my butt.

Stung when I whacked the book over Jerry's head, Jerry protested, "But I was serious."

"You want," I, righting myself, handed him the book, "a demonstration of the harvesting procedures that lead to an extraction. Rule No One: Male donors are not permitted to touch me. I touch them in order to prepare them to be secured to the hitching post for extraction. But before I can render nursing services, I need to show knowledge of the male anatomy."

"I'll give you the up-close experience of the male anatomy," Jerry vowed. As I released myself from his embrace. "Huh?" Jerry exclaimed in surprise.

Though my pulse was racing and the surge pulsing through my veins warming me tempted me to remove my nightclothes, thin though they were, I mustered enough restraint to order Jerry to remain still and drop his shorts. As his shorts fell to the floor and he kicked them away, I noted the building tumescence obscured in part by excessive pubic hair.

"Male donors at the clinic must shave off pubes," I noted. "We'll deal with your hairy crotch at another session." To Jerry's reaction, I promised to be careful.

Holding the budding penis in my hand, I lectured, "Tapered design facilitating penetration, the male penis, darker in color than the rest of the body, is loosely connected like a sheath to the underlying tissue of the penis to facilitate expansion and contraction and movement inside the female body."

With a strong hand gripping my shoulder, Jerry vowed to test - fire his delivery system.

Releasing myself from Jerry's grip, finger by finger, I feared I was releasing a scent that would drive Jerry crazy before I finished my demonstration.

"The penis is comprised of three principal parts," I held Jerry's penis in my hand feeling along its length, "the Root links the snake like extension cord to the body. The shaft, the snake-like cord composed of erectile tissue which when engorged with blood during arousal causes the erection and the conical Glans which releases semen through an opening."

As I monitored the progress of Jerry's erection, I licked the pad on my pinky with my tongue. Tracing the pad of my pinky along the circumference of the corona of the glans penis, I noted the high concentration of nerve endings in the gland vital to arousal, erection and ultimately ejaculation. Jerry quipped that the genuine article introduces a lively realism into the study lacking in clinical still photos in my book.

Continuing my gentle probing with the pad of my pinky of the glans, I explained, "Under the rim of the glans overhanging the shaft, there may be in most circumcised men the remnant of the frenulum an elastic band of tissue along with the underside of the shaft extremely sensitive to touch."

My words hung in the air and slowly faded away. Everything moved in slow motion. Were Jerry and I, frozen in the moment? My rapid heart pounded in my chest. Warm blood pumped through my body. My breathing deepened.

Overheated, I removed Jerry's T shirt and dangled my breasts in front of Jerry. I was thrilled to watch the twinkle in Jerry's eyes as they follow the rise and fall of my breasts. "Could a fantasy formed in the mind of a man hitched to a post designed to drain off his man juice create such magic?" I exclaimed.

"Huh?" asked Jerry uncomprehendingly.

"I think you're ready to be hitched to the post," I advised Jerry. "Oral stimulation will not be required to draw your semen."

"But what if I want," Jerry leaned back to moan, "you to taste me by drawing my sap by mouthing my shaft until the cone explodes, like a surging volcano gushing hot lava?"

"Strictly forbidden," I replied as I stood in front of Jerry and yanked my pj bottoms off. "I would have to secure your cock to the hitching post first to harvest your man sap. That's what the clinic paid for."