tagErotic CouplingsPrecious Resources

Precious Resources


A sharp steel point lanced through an old used condom on the ground.

The metal point was attached to a wooden stick, which raised the rubber up into the air. A pair of mature blue eyes appraised it.

"Such a waste." She said.

Henry thought it was a strange thing to say. He stopped picking up trash for a moment, and looked at Mrs. Wagner, standing nearby.

She was dressed just like him, in hiking boots, shorts and a t-shirt, with an orange vest to warn cars of her presence. But she was in her early forties, many years his senior, and her little plastic button designated her an Eco-Team Leader and his 'superior', at least while they were at camp.

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking at the condom. "What's a waste?"

Mrs. Wagner waved the condom at him like a little flag.

"This is a waste. A waste of precious resources." She said. Her voice was half-serious, half joking. Henry didn't know what to make of it.

"You want to recycle it?" He asked. She laughed.

"Not the condom. What's inside." She said. Henry looked at the ancient, crusty old condom, and preferred not to think about what was inside. But she continued.

"Did you know male semen contains 100 times more zinc than is contained in the blood? Along with 28 other vitamins and minerals."

He was used to Mrs. Wagner popping out with obscure, sometimes edgy bits of knowledge like this. She had been his health teacher when he was in high school, which accounted for him never being able to get used to calling her by her first name, Ingrid.

In addition to being a teacher of Health Education, Ingrid Wagner had grown up in Sweden. And so whether it was her training or her European background, she'd always had a sometimes unnerving openness about all things sexual.

"It's a vital fluid. And young men like you are constantly throwing it away, flushing it down the toilet, washing it down the drain, throwing it out in a tissue..."

Ingrid may have kept going, but Henry stopped listening. His mind went to Petra.

Petra was his new girlfriend. She was at the ecological work camp with him for the next few weeks, but had been bussed to another section of road for the day.

It was the word 'tissues' that got him thinking. The few times Henry and Petra had fooled around, Petra used tissues to clean him up. Semen freaked her out. To her it was the messiest, grossest, slimiest substance on Earth.

Petra was arguably the hottest woman Henry had ever dated, and he liked her a lot, but as he pictured her disconcertedly wiping his cum off her fingers with a tissue, he must not have looked very excited.

"What's that look for?" Ingrid said. "You don't agree?

"No, I'm sure you're right. It's just...not all girls share your point of view." Henry said.

Ingrid leaned on her stick. She was a sharp woman, and it only took her a few moments to catch on.

"So your Petra doesn't appreciate semen, huh?" She asked shrewdly. It was true, but funny to hear it that way. Henry looked over his shoulder self-consciously, but they were alone, surrounded by woods and a quiet country road.

"She...doesn't seem to want anything to do with it. She doesn't even like to see it. And as far as it coming anywhere near her mouth, well, she won't even open her mouth to give me a blow-" He dropped off. Suddenly this conversation had gone from academic to sexual, and he tried to reel it back.

"That's a pity." Ingrid said, understanding. "Cum is the most nutritious, delicious snack there is."

Knowing Mrs. Wagner's attitudes, Henry tried to keep that statement in academic context in his mind. It wasn't completely possible, though, and for a moment he looked at Mrs. Wagner, not as a familiar teacher and mother figure, but as a woman.

She had long, sun-bleached brunette hair, pulled back in a pony tail, with a baseball cap shielding her eyes from the sun. Her work t-shirt wasn't tight but she had a nice, full bosom and a slender neck. Below the hem of her shorts, her legs betrayed no signs of age, and were tan and firm from plenty of work outdoors. In short, Ingrid was svelte.

But Henry's eyes drifted away from her body, to her mouth. There were a few lines around it, but her lips were full, and he thought again about what she had just said. The word 'snack', with her peculiar accent on it, hung in the air, not far from her lips. He mused on that word, 'snack'. It had never sounded so good in his ears.

He snapped his mind back to reality, and suddenly had an idea. He had seen Petra and Mrs. Wagner socializing frequently at the camp, and he knew they were familiar. Perhaps this woman could rub a little attitude and knowledge off on his new girlfriend.

"Hey, Mrs. Wagner? I want to ask you...a favor." He said, suddenly mealy-mouthed, like a kid back in school.

"If you ask what I think you're going to ask, get ready to be smacked." She said. Ingrid wasn't joking. Apparently she had seen him eyeing her a moment ago. While the attention from the cute young man was flattering, she was happily married.

"No no, it's not what you think." He said hurriedly. "I was wondering if you could maybe...have a little talk with Petra or something. About...what you just said."

Ingrid processed his words, and her stance relaxed a little.

"Oh!" She said. Her face brightened.

During the year of Health Education Henry had with her, he had always thought Mrs. Wagner took a kind of perverse pleasure in shocking young minds with all things sexual and icky. Judging by her expression now, she hadn't changed much.

"Why certainly! I'd love to help you out there." Ingrid beamed. "Every woman should appreciate her man's precious resources."

Ingrid and Henry went back to picking up trash. She hummed as she worked, and he could see the gears turning in her head as she speared the stray pieces of garbage. He felt a weird excitement in his belly, thinking about the machinery he had just set in motion.

Unfortunately, it wasn't going to turn out quite like he hoped.


The wooden buildings and surrounding tents were a boy's camp during most of the year. Nestled in the woods near a few major forestry roads, it was used as a handy base of operations for the Eco-Camp activities.

When he got back to it, sweaty and tired, Henry headed straight for the showers. On his way he spotted Richard, leaning against a tree, talking to someone he couldn't see.

Henry considered Richard to basically be a jock who never left high school, mentally anyway. He had stayed in his home town after graduating and painted houses for a living. Henry knew he came on the volunteer Eco-Camps just to hit on girls. And judging by the look on his face, he was hitting on one right now.

As Henry came through the trees, he caught a glimpse of her body. Small feminine ankles curved up into rounded calves. Her tan, firm thighs disappeared into a pair of tight jean shorts. A bit of toned belly was exposed beneath a moss-green cotton tank top, which hugged a pair of mid-sized breasts, the cleavage newly bronzed from the week at camp. Henry looked at the toned arms, the elegant neck, and suddenly realized who he was looking at:


Henry tromped over loudly, trying not to look too jealous. Petra didn't look like she was instigating the attention, but she didn't seem to be brushing it off either.

"Hey, Petra. What's up?" Henry said.

"Oh hey! Have a good day?" She smiled brightly, and leaned over to give him a big smooch. All his jealousy melted away. Petra rubbed her hand against the small of his back; she loved to feel his back muscles curving down to his rump.

"Yeah. I gotta go shower, though. Oh, hey Dick." Henry said, nodding to Richard. "Oh and Petra? Mrs. Wagner was looking for you. She didn't say what it was about."

"Oh, okay. I'm heading back to the tents before dinner. I'll keep an eye out." Petra said.

"I'm headed that way myself." Richard said. "I'll walk you."

Henry's jealousy bristled, but Petra gave him a kiss before walking off. Henry wondered where Mrs. Wagner was. He crossed his fingers.


The bath house was a recently added wooden structure with several small showers in it. Henry stood in one of those showers, the hot water streaking down his sore muscles. Picking up trash didn't seem like an exertion, but doing it from dawn till dusk several days in a row took its toll.

Henry's mind drifted to Petra. He imagined that Mrs. Wagner had found her. Perhaps they were already done talking. He tried to imagine what Mrs. Wagner was saying to her right now.

"Well Petra, do you see what I'm saying?" Mrs. Wagner would say.

"I think so. But I have just one question." Petra would ask.

"What's that?"

"Did Henry put you up to this?"

Suddenly the shower ran cold, and Henry yelped. Apparently they'd run out of hot water.

He jumped out of the shower and toweled himself off, cursing his foolishness. Of course Petra would see through it! He even told her to go find Mrs. Wagner.

Henry stumbled out of the bath house, pulling his clothes on hastily. Maybe they hadn't talked yet. He had to find Mrs. Wagner and stop her, if it wasn't too late.


The sun was setting when he got to the mess hall. It was dinner time, and everyone was making their way through the buffet-style line, heaping their plates with roast beef and mashed potatoes. Henry absently grabbed a tray, scanning the room for either Petra or Mrs. Wagner.

He didn't see them, so he helped himself to the food. Then, as he stood at the drink machine, his cup filling with soda from the spigot, he saw what he had been dreading: Mrs. Wagner and Petra sitting at a table together.

"Hey, man, there's free refills you know." Someone behind Henry said. Henry looked down. The soda pouring from the spigot had overflowed his cup and was cascading over his dinner and onto his tray.

Someone laughed, and said, "Aw that's okay, we're all staring."

Henry looked around and realized that Petra was turning a few heads in the mess hall. Even just sitting still, eating her dinner, she was hauntingly beautiful. And her skimpy summer clothes accentuated every bronze curve; there were more than a few guys hoping the warm weather would hold out. Suddenly, to Henry she looked like a gazelle in a room full of hyenas.

He made his way through the tables and chairs, setting his tray down in front of Petra. She avoided his glance, but looked at the tray.

"What happened to your dinner?" She asked. A pat of butter was floating around in the lake of soda on the tray.

"Oh, the soda machine was having...I mean I had a problem with the soda machine." Henry muttered. He looked back and forth between Petra and Mrs. Wagner, trying to read their expressions. Had they had the talk yet? Ingrid stood up.

"Well, I better get to my tent and get things planned for tomorrow." She said. Good, Henry thought. He was eager to get some time with Petra and get a read on what was going on.

"Do you need help? I think I'm done here." Petra said abruptly, standing up. She looked down at him, her expression blank and unreadable. "Is that okay? I'll come by and say goodnight before curfew." Her words seemed distant and cold.

"Sure." Henry said. The two women headed out of the mess hall.

Henry thought about it, but not for long. It was clear what had happened: Mrs. Wagner had talked to Petra. And Petra knew he had put Mrs. Wagner up to it.

He felt like a heel. Surrounded by the chatter of the hyenas around him, Henry ate his soda-soaked roast beef in silence. It tasted horrible.

He decided to go talk to Petra and apologize before things got too weird. As his grandpa used to say, "Never let the sun go down on an argument."

As he walked out of the mess hall, Henry was greeted by the pitch black of a moonless forest night.


At camp, as with any type of outdoor living, nature tends to rule the schedule. After dark, things settle down quickly, and Henry saw few people as he crossed the woods between the mess hall and the women's side of camp.

Ingrid Wagner's tent was up ahead, but it was dark. Nearby Henry could see the glow of a candle-lantern against the blue fabric of another canvas structure. As he neared it from behind, he heard voices inside, and stopped.

"God, when he sat down I just couldn't handle it. I had to get up." It was Petra's voice. It was her tent.

Petra sounded upset. Henry groaned inwardly. He was screwed.

"What you said earlier got me thinking. I'm open to...trying stuff. I'm just...scared." She said quietly.

Henry's brain skipped like a record. What?

"It's okay," Mrs. Wagner said. "It's perfectly normal."

"No, it's not normal." Petra insisted. "I mean, at my age, and with this body, everyone just assumes I've done everything." She said plaintively. "And I have done some things. But this always happens. I meet someone I like, and we get to a point...and I don't want to do things wrong, or even for him to realize how inexperienced I am." She paused. "It's embarrassing."

The trees seemed to shift about ten degrees around Henry, and he felt like he had lost his balance. Then everything became clear: Petra hadn't been avoiding oral because she didn't like semen, she had been avoiding it because she didn't know how to do it! His mind reeled, flashing back to their few awkward sexual encounters, re-assessing them in this new light. It all made sense.

"Trust me, Petra. He's a good guy. I think he'd understand." Ingrid said.

"I just don't want him to be the first. I actually like him, and it'd be embarrassing." Petra's voice raised above the whispers they had been speaking in.

"Well…" Henry could almost hear Mrs. Wagner's gears turning. "How about if you watched someone do it? Would that help?"

There was a pregnant silence.

"Like what do you mean?" Petra whispered. Henry wondered himself, what did she mean? Watch a porno? There was only one TV in the camp, and it was in the public rec room. Not the greatest place for a fellatio lesson.

Mrs. Wagner's voice dropped a little, and Henry had to press his ear against the tent to hear.

"Well, my husband is over in the men's side of the camp. I could bring him over and we could give you a demonstration." Mrs. Wagner said, quite matter-of-factly.

Again, as Henry always suspected, this woman seemed to get a thrill out of exposing naïve minds with all things sexual and strange. He almost laughed out loud. Still, this was pretty out there, even for her. Henry listened breathlessly for Petra's answer.

"Well, okay." Petra said.


A few long minutes later and there was a male voice in the tent.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea." A deep voice rumbled, apparently Mr. Wagner's.

"Oh nonsense. We're all adults." Ingrid said.

There was an unzipping sound. Suddenly Henry was desperate to see what was happening, but the tent fabric was opaque. Then Petra gasped, and Henry knew Mr. Wagner's pants had gone down.

Thinking fast, Henry pulled his keys out. On them was a little Swiss Army Knife. He opened it and quietly carved a little 'U' shaped cut in the tent wall. He lifted the little flap with his finger and peeked in.

Mr. Wagner was a big bear of a man. He stood upright in the tent, his pants down, his penis jutting forth, bobbing slightly in the air. Ingrid was in front of him, on her knees. Petra was just off to the side, sitting on a cooler, her eyes transfixed.

No more words were exchanged. None were needed. Ingrid opened her full lips and wrapped them around her husband's swollen head. She went slow at first, showing Petra her tongue swirling little circles around the head, then licking the length of the shaft. Petra was leaning in closer and closer, watching the dance.

And a sweet dance it was. Ingrid used her whole body as she blew her husband. Her belly gyrated, her breasts heaved softly up and down; her hands worked his balls, massaged his ass, tugged at the thick shaft of his throbbing member.

Soon Ingrid was in a deep rhythm, blowing him in earnest, his cock thrusting in and out of her mouth noisily while her hands cupped his large balls.

Mr. Wagner started to fidget. "I think I'm getting close." He whispered. Ingrid stopped.

"Now, like I said before, the most important part. And I'm dead serious about this." Mrs. Wagner eyed Petra like she was a wayward pupil in class. "Semen is a precious resource. The man's body is losing all that good stuff, it's vital essence, and it's there for you to take. It's the treasure you get at the end of your labors, and it shouldn't be wasted." She said. Henry rotated his eye behind the peep-hole so he could get Petra's reaction.

Petra was staring at Mr. Wagner's cock. Her tiny lithe body was tight, the muscles flexed. She seemed entranced, and nodded at the words absently. Ingrid let them sink in, then turned to finish off her husband.

Petra had a thought, and her skin broke out in perspiration. She shivered.

"Can I try?" Petra whispered, barely audible. Henry's brain fritzed out like a broken T.V.

"Oh." Ingrid said, considering. She looked up at her husband.

The big bear just shrugged, leaving it up to his wife.

"Okay." She said. "But just this once." Ingrid scooted out of the way. "And don't enjoy it too much." She added, frowning at her husband. He chuckled.

Meanwhile, Petra's eyes gleamed with an intense excitement, but she looked nervous. Henry couldn't believe what was happening. Petra got off the cooler and scooted into position on her knees. She clasped her hands in her lap, and opened her mouth robotically into an 'o'.

Ingrid shook her head.

"Okay, remember to keep your lips supple. Really use them to stroke against the flesh, don't just keep them rigid." Ingrid said. Petra nodded, licking her lips. Her teeth chattered with nervousness or cold.

"And for god's sake, don't use your teeth." Came a rumble from Mr. Wagner.

Petra laughed nervously.

She leaned forward slowly.

Her lips parted wider, and the swollen head pushed past them.

Petra held his head there for a moment, getting used to the sensation, moving it around in her mouth awkwardly. She licked it a few times like she had seen Ingrid do. Then she stroked it in and out, mechanically at first. Soon, though, her lips were wrapped tightly around the shaft and Henry could see her cheeks caving in. Small sucking sounds filled the tent.

"Should we teach her to deep throat?" Mr. Wagner asked his wife playfully.

Henry gulped! That was something he always wanted to have done to him. So part of his brain was screaming 'Yes, Yes!' and the other part was saying, 'No, no!" Mrs. Wagner echoed the latter.

"Oh, I don't think so. She's just getting started. She needs practice." Ingrid somehow made this all seem very academic indeed.

Then Mr. Wagner's open hands came down on Petra's bobbing shoulders, clutching her. His massive hands dwarfed her small frame. He grunted once, his face contorting.

"Okay, I think he's going to cum, Petra." Ingrid said. "Do you want to try-" Ingrid was cut off as Petra pulled her lips away from the wet, swollen cock in front of her.

"No…I don't think so. I just…" Petra trailed off, wiping her mouth. "No thanks." She said, making a face.

Ingrid sighed. "Haven't you been listening to anything I said?" She whispered in exasperation. Petra just shook her head, looking at the cock. A drip of saliva was at the tip, foreboding things to come. "Have you ever even tasted it?" Mrs. Wagner asked.

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