Stud

The world is at rest. No longer an urgent rush to travel, to build, to tear down. Bucolic, rural, small enclaves of people live in a landscape of beauty.

Cities molder away, buildings covered in vines, trees growing on rooftops, toppling walls. Or gone entirely, replaced with round lakes of clear water, all that's left after the blasts that erased the teeming millions, sterilized the land around.

No jet trails in the sky; no vehicles crowding the cracked highways. Rusty signs calling out places that are not even remembered.

Clean water in every stream, every river. It hadn't been that way at first, the contamination had to rot, be digested by nature. Twelve billions of bodies, half of them animals, half humans, rotting over the course of one hot summer.

Birds thrive - there are no ground vermin to predate their nests, their eggs. No competition in the trees. Flocks of millions darken the skies include crows, parakeets, passenger pigeons! Must have been some hiding out, somewhere. Back now.

Locusts are getting bad. The simple solution, for our hardy farmers that remain - when they destroy crops, we harvest the locusts, dry them by the ton. Bread, fat, protein, fiber. Healthy. Keep seed back in metal boxes, old scavenged safes, away from insects, we can try again the next year.

No dogs! I miss dogs. A bird, a fish-tank, just not the same. Ant farms - pretty popular, ants are having a grand ol' time. Their hills can cover acres in some places.

Lizards are happy, the warmth and the lack of egg predation, they've actually become a problem. In the lakes left in bombed-out cities, apparently alligators are making a vigorous comeback. Living on birds and fish, they probably don't know anything had changed, their little lizard brains uncurious.

Not gonna make a pet out of a lizard, though some try. I've eaten alligator, gamey and tough. Not popular, they raised the idea of a herd, a hedge against a bad crop. Not much interest.

Some say it came from China, or Russia. I think we did it. Targeted virus, matches a particular gene sequence, eliminated certain populations of middle eastern descent, but these days folks are so mixed, maybe ten percent 'success'. Some miserable old bigoted bastards made it, I hope they died first.

Then it mutated.

Burned through the human population like the flu. Stay indoors! Wash your hands! You can slow it but not stop it, everybody gets the flu eventually.

Hospitals quit accepting flu patients - no point, they didn't last a day. Just barricaded the doors, posted armed guards.

Trucks and construction equipment to clear the streets, remove the contamination. Until the construction workers died too.

Only trauma cases admitted. Folks began injuring themselves to get in, then the hospital staff all died, then it didn't matter.

The internet lasted six months, then it went down, around here anyway. Chicago burned, that was where we got ours from, all the lines melted or equipment lost, power outages.

Bombs for a while, wiping out centers of infection. That meant, whole cities. Then they ran out of pilots, bombing stopped.

Some clusters of people are left! Here and there, we have two copies of resistant genes, it creates a protein the runs along, destroys the 'bad' gene, you do fine. Just the flu, sucks but survivable.

The gene occurs in clusters of related people, who all inherited it from some ancestor.

Like here, in our town - an old Czech community, can't tell that anymore, just regular Americans of every race but if you had two copies from old Micala, great-great-grandmother, well then you are fine. Lots of intermarrying going on around here, I guess! Second, third cousin was enough to get some of the 'blessing'. Get it twice, and there you are.

Got Micala's gene from four ancestors, I'm a real mixed bag, six different races in me but Micala's line on all sides, every time.

Hits men harder. Women got several sites that the gene hangs out: men, only the Y. A few percent of men have two, lots more variation in the ol' Y chromosome. And Y is a slut, exchanges genes all the time with other chromosomes, that's how it has any of the good stuff at all.

It can lose it, too. Most males born doesn't last twenty-four hours. We try, by god we try, oxygen tents and assisted breathing and praying why not, we're desperate.

Our community of some twelve thousand is down to just a handful of men. And half those men, sterile! The flu that keeps on giving.

I'm one of the potent ones, a Stud.

My job, my entire existence is, you guessed it, trying to preserve the Human Race. Yeah we all think of it like that, with capital letters. Like we're something special. Don't feel so special most days. Just doing my job.

They try to spread me around. No sense in 'couples' anymore, not the way we used to do it. Plenty of multiple-Mom families, makes raising the kids easier. Plenty of pussy-licking going on, everybody needs some loving, all sense of prudishness gone, probably for good.

No coupling-up for me! Sure, I can live with a woman, sleep with somebody who can get along with me, warm my bed. But she comes up pregnant, then off she goes to the maternity camp, treated like a queen, fed extra calories and pampered, treated with whatever medicine we preserved from the ruins.

Then I gotta find somebody else to sleep with. Not what you'd call long-term relationships. I'm apparently pretty potent, most 'catch' the first month. Even with my schedule, even worn out and fucked-out from work seven days a week, she sleeps with me a month and she's a baby-momma, off on vacation. A pretty sweet deal, for her.

The planet continues to heat up, got a little rough for a while, some places burned just from that. It's slacking off now, around 80 degrees year-round. We get extra crops, sometimes three in a year!

If you can tell what a 'year' is any more. We use a calendar, try to keep track but there's actually no point. The cycles of birds, locusts, what fish remain in the hot streams are more important by far, to our survival.

Teenaged me would have loved this life! Walking around in a world of near-universal topless women! Tits of every size, shape, color. I admit it; I gotta grin, just thinking about it.

I'm a tit guy. Really does it for me.

I see some I am extra pleased by, smile at a sweet profile, a droopy bouncy pair of glorious breasts that take my breath away, almost universally she's willing.

For whatever reason - wants that baby, wants to feel a real cock again, hell just the novelty. And if she gets pregnant well she gets time off from work, full year maternity leave, that's a bonus.

I'm cruising a farm, on my schedule today, accompanied by my handler, she's here to do the paperwork, lets me choose, I have that much control of my life anyway.

So there, that young filly with the pouty pink nipples, tanned on the top, not a tan-line, just browner on top because she's out in the sun standing all day. Inventory control, keeping records of crops, electronics, frypans, whatever.

By hand, all paper, we have electricity but it's mostly for cooling, keeping our foodstuffs from spoiling. One laptop allowed in the maternity camp to keep genetic records.

She's counting bushels of seed corn as it goes into the hoppers, planting season, it's always planting season, we do it continuously, the weather hardly changes.

Leans over the hopper, those tits bobbing wonderfully, always look extra-sexy when they hang down, that's what I feel anyway, and my opinion matters.

She's bending in, stirring the grain with one hand, one tit pressed against the lip of the hopper, deforms from the pressure, nipple pokes out crooked, delicious! I could cum in my pants, if I wore any pants.

I'm smiling, she looks up, sees me, a surprise right there, most women don't even see a man much of the year. Sees me smiling, gets that look. That 'who-me-am-I-gonna-finally-get-sum?' look.

I nod, approach. She sets the clipboard down, walks over by the tractor, starts stripping.

Doesn't take long, she's wearing sandals, shorts, a floppy hat, that's about it. Not a stitch of underwear, too hot. No makeup, that's for holidays, and mostly to please themselves. Takes just a moment and she's stark naked. Waiting for me.

She's got that healthy outdoor look that makes anyone appealing. Add her bouncy tits, wide hips, friendly smile and I'm interested.

To cap it off, that tit-tan. Oh my god.

She can see I'm hard, I wear only a loincloth, all I'm allowed. Saves on laundry, saves time, gets me from hey-hello to the rumpy-pumpy in seconds.

There're formalities to exchange. I start friendly, make it a pleasant experience to remember. She'll remember, probably never get another opportunity.

"Hi! I'm your friendly community reproduction liaison!" I made that up, I have lots of patter, use whatever seems appropriate.

She's grinning, heard of these interviews, who hasn't! Ready.

"I'm fertile, willing, my job isn't vital, not on my period. Understand the risks!"

Big smile, just leaning against the tractor tire, absently running fingers through her bush. Looking at me, but mostly at my cock, obvious in a loincloth, sticking out the side already.

"Whoa! I'm glad to hear all of that, and I'm sure this is going to work out today, no worries. But I'm required to go through the motions. Human rights thing."

That's right, we still value human rights. Even after all we've been through. Especially after.

And it's not like I have to rape women to get them to cooperate! There's no lack of fertile willing people, that pretty much describes everybody. Someone has a problem with me inseminating them, that's very much ok, I can move on to the next.

"Ok. Ask away!"

"Are you infertile, through disease, genetics or surgery?" Some older women had their tubes tied. I'm not allowed to ejaculate in them, waste a load. Fewer and fewer as the years go by.

"I am not infertile. In fact, I'm kinda horny today, I think I'm ovulating."

I knew that already, when it's your job to fuck women all day, you get a sense. She is sweating maybe more than she might normally; her nipples look tender.

And now that I get close, she smells like she's ovulating. Yeah, I think I can smell it, from thousands of hours exposure to hot horny women.

"Do you enter into this temporary relationship of your own free will? Without reservation or hindrance?"

That is, no pair-bonding that precluded extra-pair mating. It still happens. Women are people, they have feelings. And since women run the world now, they can do as they damn well please.

"I enter into this 'relationship' of my own free will. I wanna fuck you so bad." Another grin.

Wow! Ok, a live one. My cock twitches.

"Would leaving your post for a year involve significant risk to the community? Do you work in a vital industry, such as energy, medicine or post-natal care?"

"Nope! Not vital. Seven other girls do what I do."

I can see that, there are inventories going all over the farm today.

"Are you currently menstruating, experienced menstruation within the last five days, due to menstruate within the next five days?"

"On my cycle, hot and ready!"

"Do you understand the risks inherent in pregnancy, carrying a baby to term, childbirth and delivery? Including changes in your body, your mood? Health risks including complications that may involve emergency surgery, bleeding and even death?"

This one often gives them pause. Pregnancy is no joke. Most young women never even know someone who'd gone through it, not anymore.

"Young and healthy! My gramma had seven kids, told me all the stories. I understand and am ready and willing to accept the risks! Want my belly to grow like a balloon, my tits to double up and my nipples turn dark! Squeeze that puppy outa my cooch when it's time!"

She is nearly bouncing, excited. Her nipples are little stiffies, virgin nipples, proud against those pouty breasts, god I love that.

And her cunt is clearly wet, glistening where her lips show between her tidy bush foliage. Her fingers are wet, where she's been stroking herself. Thick, stringy wet, ovulation wet.

"Well, just one last question."

She looked alarmed; this wasn't in the script.

"What's your name?"

A laugh. "Like you care! It's Britta, after my gramma, Brittania! Is that it? You want to do it standing, or in the shade under the tractor? Oh! Oh! In the seat, me leaning back, you standing on the deck, between my legs! Pounding me!"

It is my policy to let them have their way in this. It's a generous act, to accept my seed, to have my baby. I can be generous too.

And with her nearly on her back my semen had a better chance of working its way in, staying put, where it could do the most good. Get her thoroughly knocked up.

Breeding position.

This deal gives me a sort of all-access pass, I can interrupt anybody at any time pretty much, to get it on.

So we clamber up into the tractor seat, the farm-worker tolerant, waiting for us, delaying her work, smiling, rubbing her crotch, jealous.

Britta sits slouched in the padded seat, has me stand in front of her. Puts her naked legs around my hips, rested one heel on the panel, one bare foot on the throttle handle. Reaches for my pecs, which are significant, I have no other duties, lots of time in my day for physical culture.

Tips her hips, presents herself.

That cunt is more than willing, it is sopping. Beads of wet in her bush, a little slimy thick flow at the bottom, wetting her taint. Clit prominent, I swear I can see it bobbing with her heartbeat.

I crouch, can do squats all day, flex my hips forward, my straining cock meets her hips, touch that wet, ping!

She jumps, eyes wide. Her attention fully on this act, perhaps her one-and-only breeding session in her life. Gonna remember every second, memorize it, not look away.

It is damned provoking when they do that! Look me in the eyes the whole time. Old stories talked of women being distant, disconnected, just enduring sex. But in my position, heh, every woman I ever fuck is fully present, looks me straight in the face, wants me.

That make my cock so hard it hurts sometimes.

I run my cockhead up and down her slit, get it wet. I have lotion in my bag, but I've not used it in ages, probably gone bad. The women I fuck are always like this, just dripping for it.

She closes her eyes, just for a second, the pops them open again, doesn't want to miss anything. I lean over, kissed her, surprise her!

"Oh! You don't have to do that, I'm good with just getting cock-fucked, getting your sweet jizz up my cunt!"

I smile my I-know smile, nuzzle her nose with mine. Continue with my little foreplay.

This is my whole job, and I am damned if I am gonna do a bad one.

I back off, alarming her, are we doing this? Kissed one of those tender delicious tits.

Oh! That gets a reaction, her nipples are sensitive, and my tongue, gentle. Her mouth opens, her tongue just peeks out, on board.

Lave one nipple, softly around, then suck just a little, make it stand up prouder.

Switch to the other, lay my tongue out on it flat, let her feel my wet, my warmth. Closes her eyes again, probably imagining I am her usual lover, her girlfriend.

Her cunt is still ready, more ready, gaping despite the fact I've not even entered her yet.

My one hand on her side, gripping her lean strong body, bracing myself. The other on her hip, helps align us. Look her right in the eyes, raise my eyebrows, get an urgent Yes! nod.

And I slide it in. One motion, her wet makes her like a frictionless tube, a sleeve built to hold my cock, to love me up and make me welcome.

"Ooooohhhh!" She's not felt that, not in her life. Lots of dildoes I'm sure, lizard leather or hell, cucumbers, carrots. Latex rubber dicks, sell very well at the community shop, usually sold out.

But not real warm human cock-flesh, never felt that before I'd bet. Maybe one of the impotent guys, they get around, not a lot of them, not enough to matter, still a thousand to one against for most people.

I leave it there, let her adjust. I'm not terribly big around, not gonna leave any stretchmarks on her pussy. But I'm long, come to rest nearly at her cervix, part of what makes me so successful. I take care to put the big splooge right on target, give good stud service.

She is impatient, starts jiggling her hips. Gets her more excited, her hips keep doing it, involuntary, liking what she felt, unconscious impulse taking over.

"That's my Britta! Fuck that cock! Make it cum in you! Get that nasty fuck-batter in you, make you all pregnant, gonna grow a big fat baby in your body! Britta's sexy horny body!"

Sexy-talk is underutilized. Never mind how silly, it gets right past mental defenses, goes direct to the subconscious. Lets the hormones flow!

Her face flushes, already nearing orgasm. I could do it now, make her cum, practiced from a thousand insemination, ten thousand! She was young and healthy and reacting perfectly, wants my cock, wants to fuck and be fucked. I stimulate her clit, kiss her hard, do a couple strong deep strokes and she'll boil over.

But where is the fun in that? I want her to remember this, tell stories to her grandchildren.

I pull mostly out, get a little-girl Oh! of loss, wants me back in her.

Pause, wait for it, then firmly back in, halfway, we're in this for three points, not just a layup. She tries to sit up, feels me, wants more.

Wait for her to relax, lay back against the seat, understanding now, she's not just getting inseminated, she's gonna get capital-F Fucked.

A growing smile, Britta has such a positive personality, ready to play the game and enjoy it.

She reaches up, grabs one man-tit in each hand, gives them a tweak! Grins.

"Oh you want to play it that way?" I lean down, suck a tit into my mouth, her pouty tits are easy to just inhale, get half of it inside my cheeks. Play-bite, not to leave a mark but just for the thrill.

A glare, a look of naughty displeasure, she grabs one of my arms for leverage, leans forward, with the other Smacks! my butt!

That stings!

I bet her girlfriend has a lot of fun with Britta.

"Britta is a naughty girl! Likes the nasty stuff! You gonna make me beg? Make me cry, make me cum for you? Like a good little Stud-boy?"

She nods, on board with that, gives me a twisted sneer.

Reaches down, grabs my cock! Flips it out of her cunt, Ow! Smacks it against her belly, repeatedly. Hikes her hips back up, stuffs me back inside, practiced, her sweetie uses a dong-belt, that's for sure.

With her heels she digs into my butt, starts clenching her legs, jerks my hips, making me fuck her, hard.

Her way, on her own terms.

This is how it should be! This is all for her! Her time with the Stud, her insemination, her pregnancy! Her way!

Now we can fuck in earnest.

I pull out, manhandle her thighs, shrug her legs over my shoulders, her body bends double, cunt now nearly straight up into the air, wet and red and juicy.

Hoch and spit! into her gaping vagina, rude and oh so personal.

Her shoulders flush, she's angry and excited, that snarl again and "Stick it in me! You fucking Stud! Give it to me! Now!"

Both arms holding onto the tractor seat armrests, she's thrusting her hips up on her own, challenging me to take her, to jam my fuckstick into her body, to make her cum.

I oblige. Lean over the tractor seat, brace myself on the back, her feet stuck straight over her own head now, really flexible! My chest above her face, my pecs close enough to lick, to bite!

I lower my cock to her cunt, get lined up. Jam it in, to the root!

Uuugh!

I get a grunt out of her, she knows she's being fucked by a man now, by a Stud.

Pull completely out, raise my head, look her in the eyes. Spit on her tits! She's really angry now but before she can respond I'm jamming it in again.