future

1



Limited Satiety. Two words forever stamped on James Harrison’s biometric readout. Well, maybe not forever, but certainly for the foreseeable future. The whole city had gone to hell, or rather it had returned to its normal state for the past few weeks. A raise from his boss didn’t look likely. As the pleasure capital of Europe, London didn’t seem itself without the organ trafficking, Cyber-Fraud and SexCrime. He could feel something brewing in the humid and dank, sultry streets of the city. It was only a matter of time before he’d have to do some real work.



“Fucking bells.”



Harrison leaned over the side of the bed and clumsily pounded a fist down on the clock. Six-thirty, enough time to sling on some clothes and get a decent cup of coffee. He’d moved into the dilapidated apartment several months back, he was sure if he had kept his therapist he would have said it was the physical manifestation of his subconscious self. Bullshit. Old, useless items from another point in time, crammed into cardboard boxes and left to rot. The truth was that he had been spending his time off at the various recreational complexes that covered the area between Southwark and Vauxhall. A man could lose hours, if not days if he didn’t have his head in the right place. London, the city of blinding light. Fornication. Lies.



Twenty minutes later and he was out the door. Door locked, corridor stinks of piss and sweat. Got keys? Fuck. Check coat pocket again. Yes. A couple rutting like animals up against the banister on the first floor.



“Fucking degenerates”.



She’s on her knees, mouth open and tongue out, flickering around the tip of his shaft. Her hand cradles his balls as he bucks against the railing, he’s got a fistful of her hair and he’s holding on like he’s riding a runaway mine cart. She’s laughing as his white hot cum cascades down her face. Makeup smeared, her lipstick everywhere, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She’s gone, disappearing under mountains of curly auburn hair. She’s beautiful.



The residential block was covered in gloom, steam drifted up from manhole covers and vents. The dull orange glow of the lights threw hideous shadows. Parts of the city were fortunate enough to experience artificial daylight. Not here. Harrison tore a parking fine notice from underneath the wiper of his car window. Quiet rage as he lifts his eyes to meet the reader. Systems come online and screens light up as he pulls slowly from the kerb, down the street. A right turn on to the main road and he is heading for the city.



Iranian Special Forces operatives had destroyed New Scotland Yard in a suicide bomb attack at the outbreak of global war in 2018. After the reclamation some thirty years later, the new building had been erected close to the Ministry of Defence, overlooking the Thames. It was a massive structure that reflected what the city had become. Almost quadrupling in size since the beginning of the 22nd century, the population had expanded to nearly 30 million. The apparatus of society had turned into a largely incomprehensible and highly complex system governed by AI socio-tech and the cybernetically enhanced. Not that Harrison cared. In his twenty years as a policeman he had seen it all, the rise of AI government, the Corporate Wars. As far as he was concerned he was DioCorp property, as was most of the city. His only desire was to get Tier 2 status, and nothing was going to get in his way. Netcast warbled on in the background as he swung into the parking bay. His mind plucked words out of the haze of noise.



“Play”, “Desire”, “Need”, “Climax”.



What’s wrong with this picture? He knew he was dissatisfied for sure, but what about? Friday was only a few hours away, then the seductive abyss of physical gratification. A small portion of his mind recoiled in horror.



“Identify.”



“Harrison 2213-A.”



The drone disengaged its armaments and opened the lift’s blast door.



“Ops Room.”



Harrison prepared himself mentally as the lift lurched and filled with the sound of distant machinery. Richard Ennis would be waiting to ambush him on the progress of a blackmail case involving one of the city’s most notorious Hostess bars. The fact was, every small business within the district had ties to the various local crime syndicates. Harrison’s money was on Lei Feng and his group who ran out of Chinatown. Soho was a dangerous place at the best of times. He didn’t like the idea of spending any working hours snooping around that part of town so he figured he’d throw Richard a bone; let him have his fun, then wrap it all up when there was some hard evidence. It was a common story. Some high-up Tier 1 status executive-type goes to slum it with the nastiest the city has to offer and ends up biting off more than he can chew. The newest cybernetic body enhancements were highly prized. Who better to blackmail than the research and development head of Europa Medical? It doesn’t matter what universe you’re from, necrophilia is bad press.



“Ops Room.”



It took less than a millisecond of the doors opening and Harrison instantly heard the grating tone of Ennis as he called out his name across the spacious office area.



“Fucker.”



“James, you swine bag! Where the fuck are my suspects?”



“They’re all sitting around holding each other’s dicks at Feng’s place. Go fetch.”



Harrison pushed past Ennis and the throng of staff bustling around the elevator door. He needed to get into his office fast before anyone else found him. The last thing he needed was an expanded workload, or even worse, a fresh case. Harrison made a dash for the door. He got within a few feet of it.



“Harrison, my room. Now.”



“Yes Chief.”



Harrison slid the glass door shut. He saw McLeish activate the sound dampening system. The glass panels overlooking the Ops Room floor polarised.



“There’s a problem.”



2



“What is your name? Pretty thing.”



“Pandora.”



“How fitting. Open up and show me what’s inside…”



She lies back on a raised bed; the room is bathed in a dim crimson light. She is already completely naked and her slim body shimmers. So fucking desirable that a man’s balls would become heavy and painful just from catching her eye, and there she is. Dripping wet and ready to fuck. Fuck machine. That is what she is. She parts her legs in the manner of a gymnast, feet and toes raised, pointing to opposite ends of infinity, limbs outstretched, beckoning her client in like an exotic plant entices its insect prey.



“Would you like a taste? I want to feel your hands on me…”



She purred in a thick eastern European accent as she trailed her fingers from her ankles and across legs any man could not refuse to lick. She stroked her thighs playfully as she licked her lips. Her eyes focussed intently on him. She would have him by any means.



He could feel his growing erection pressed hard against his pants. It had been this way for a while now, as Pandora teased and played with him coquettishly. In the Rec-Centre bars and image suites she had enthralled a substantial group of men and women with her humour, good looks, and her outrageous sexual predation. She had caught his eye whilst reaching down the trousers of a hapless mixologist whilst the unusually raucous clientele dared him to make drinks. It was lust at first sight. They had spent a couple of hours drinking and making small talk in a dimly lit booth at the back of the bar. She slipped a stockinged foot out of her heels as he whispered his desires to her. He felt her tiptoe her way up the inside of his leg and then down, pressing into his crotch, massaging his cock and balls with her delicate toes. She had leaned back in her chair and laughed as he asked her what it would take to get her upstairs. It wouldn’t take much. He pinned her up against the elevator glass, holding her wrists and kissing her passionately again, and again on the mouth, his tongue flickering around hers. She tasted of alcohol, exotic fruit, and danger. He coaxed her thighs apart with lustful strokes, his hand slipped under her short dress. He felt warm flesh, soft and smooth like a ripe peach. His fingers danced around her panties, then he began to stroke with more conviction. She kissed him hungrily. They tore at each other’s clothes and threw each other down on the bed. He felt her nails digging and clawing at him as she bucked on top of him.



“What is your name? Pretty thing.”



It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Somehow he knew her already, and knew what fate awaited him. Tired of this job, tired of this city, her eyes promised him sweet escape.



“Pandora.”



The holder of all the world’s evils. The thought briefly and violently shot through his brain like a bullet. His subconscious entertained it, and he would succumb to it. She was terrifying beauty.



Somehow she had known what he needed most. She saw the look of wild yearning on him as his eyes darted up and down her body. She loved to be worshipped, and she would become his idol. Her black cocktail dress hung off her shoulder; she let it fall to the floor, exposing her tall, slender figure. Her jet-black hair fell straight to her shoulders. The severe looking fringe gave her an almost martial look. She bit her lip. Fixing her pale blue eyes on him, mesmerising him as she unclasped her bra, he watched lustfully as she stripped for him. She confidently strutted to the bed then rolled down her stockings. Draped on the bed, she was a heavenly creature. Somehow defiant in her nakedness, she looked at him as if she were challenging him.



“Open up and show me what’s inside…”



Now she was in control. She could sense him quaking with barely concealed longing as she stretched out her legs, offering herself up to him completely. He descended on her with voracious desire, taking in the scent of her deliciously wet pussy. He flickered his tongue around her lips, parting them gently with his fingers before eagerly licking her. She moaned softly at first as he traced his tongue slowly up to her swollen clitoris. She could feel him nibbling and sucking on her labia, and then suddenly felt a couple of his fingers delicately probing her. She wanted to fuck badly, and she wanted him as hard as possible. She pulled away from him before he had the chance to slip his fingers inside her.



“Your turn now.”



He gets up and fumbles desperately with his zip, trying in vain to tug his pants down. She’s already on the floor, prizing his hands off his trousers as she mouths his erect cock through his clothing. Peeling down his boxers, his cock springs out.



“Sorry dear, should be kept on a leash…”



He winks at her playfully as she starts to explore him. She’s pleasantly surprised as he’s a lot thicker than she’d imagined from feeling him through his clothes. Holding it in one hand, she takes in the heady and pungent smell of his body. She feels the flood of wetness in her mouth as she anticipates wrapping her lips around his hot, hard cock. He gasps as dripping warmth envelopes him. She takes him in deep, her lips sliding down his shaft and almost reaching the base of his cock as she uses one hand to gently massage his balls. She pulls back and forth, slowly bringing the tip of his cock to her lips, then languorously swirls her tongue around the head. He shudders and groans as she increases the speed and intensity of her movements. Suddenly she stops, eyes fixed on him as he looks down on her. Her lips slide off of his swollen cock, his balls have tightened and she can feel the rush of heat course through his body, he’s ready to cum. Before she sends him over the edge, she pulls away.



“I want you inside of me…”



She brings herself up from the floor. He grabs her around the waist and lifts her up as she wraps her legs around him. He strides over to the wall and presses her up against it, forcing himself on her with an aggressive kiss; his tongue penetrates her mouth, demonstrating his intentions. Her thighs are slick with her own excitement as his cock slowly slips between her swollen lips. They both moan as he thrusts deeper inside her. She can’t control herself as her pelvic muscles tighten, gripping him like a vice. He begins to move, making deep, forceful motions. She yelps as she feels him throbbing inside her, the heat courses through his body. Both of their bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with the heavy, cloying smell of sex. She feels her own excitement boil over, a wave of physical stimulation that causes her whole body to shake. She cries out involuntarily as she is consumed by her orgasm. He feels himself seizing up entirely as the white-hot jolt of his own climax reaches him. He bucks violently, forcing himself deeper. Her cries become screams as she registers the combined sensation of his brutish thrusting and the hot splashes of cum deep inside her. He looks into her eyes. They are both panting. He has reached the end, the sudden realisation of completion.



Something was wrong, he should have been experiencing the sudden rush of endorphins and the immediate sense of gratification. He felt blind panic. He pulled out of her as her piercing blue eyes communicated to him her intention. Her arms shot up at lightning speed, no time for anything. With a sudden mechanical jerk she twisted his head around, snapping his neck. She let him fall to the floor, his warm semen slowly seeping down her thigh. There would be no satisfaction, and all physical pleasure would remain hollow. Only the agonising reality of unanswered desires, the all-pervading truth of death.



3



Harrison had never liked using vehicles from the police car pool. Modern cars were characterless machines, over-designed by soulless AI fabricators to fulfil the needs of practicality, performance and ease of maintenance. Like so many things in this age, whilst they had retained their purpose, they had lost the latent mark of humanity. Maybe because they were assembled, rather than being crafted or created. To Harrison a true motorcar was a work of art, not something to merely aid in the movement from point A to point B. A car was to be admired by all for its beauty and power, to be envied and coveted, not to be valued or judged by its usefulness or logical purpose. Harrison’s mind performed mental gymnastics as he tried to discern the purpose of the detective sergeant sitting in the passenger seat of his Jaguar XK. Reynolds, Julian P. promoted from beat officer barely a year ago, with a distinctively unremarkable track record. He had yet to get a single conviction from the handful of arrests he had made over the past few months. Harrison figured that this was McLeish’s attempt to antagonise him for the caustic effect he had had on the department since his return to service. This was Reynolds’ shot at the big leagues, his baptism of fire. The fucking dickhead was going to burn. Harrison couldn’t even be sure if he would come out of this one. He eased his foot down on the accelerator, instantly feeling the kick of the vintage V8 under the bonnet of his beloved.



“Don’t fucking touch anything, and don’t you make a fucking sound either.”



Reynolds looked across at him, opening his mouth then closing it again, thinking better of calling the man’s bluff. He knew he was already properly fucked for the foreseeable future; all that was left was to hang on for dear life until Harrison got him buried, or on early retirement. The car raced down St. George’s Road toward the Strata complex.



Strata, one of the iconic residential buildings of the London skyline for much of the 21st century, was now dwarfed by the recently completed mega structures that covered the area of the Elephant and Castle. Strata was now a hotel connected to a much larger recreation zone that served a mostly Tier 2 clientele. If you were Tier 2 it meant you had currency to burn. The result was that the vast majority of Tier 2s were decadent and twisted thrill seekers who spent their working lives fulfilling progressively more elaborate and sordid fantasies. If you were going to make an arrest on a charge of SexCrime, your list of suspects was almost always going to be made up of Tier 2s. Harrison saw the blue flashing lights of vehicles outside the building, he drew up beside a young beat officer standing guard on the sidewalk, rain lashed down from the rusty orange haze of the evening sky.



“Detectives Harrison and Reynolds, care to fill us in?”



“Harrison, good to see you. Homicide are already upstairs going over the crime scene. Victim is male, early thirties. The poor guy nearly had his head twisted off. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming up.”



Harrison casually shuffled along the marble clad court and through gargantuan plate-glass doors that slid open silently without betraying their enormous weight. Reynolds observed that he still had a slight limp in his right leg, a memento from the incident at the Isle of Dogs that had Harrison on long term sick leave for nearly six months.



“You coming Reynolds? Or do I have to do everything myself?”



They both made their way to the main elevator hub, two insects in a foreign termite mound. Strata Control noted the arrival of the two law enforcement officers, accounted for the presence of otherwise restricted firearms and duly placed the local security systems on override.



“Which floor sir?”



“22.”



“We regret to inform you that this level is off-limits due to an earlier incident…”



“Harrison 2213-A.”



“Level de-restricted, enjoy your evening sir.”



Harrison cracked a wry smile at the young detective sharing the elevator with him.



“Building Controls always come out with the strangest stuff…”



“Wanna fuck with it a bit?”



“Ha! Control can you hear me?”



“Yes sir.”



“You are aware that a murder has taken place on the 22nd floor, right?”



“Yes sir.”



“…And that we are the investigating officers.”



“Yes sir. Enjoy your evening sir.”



He burst into hoarse laughter; Reynolds barely contained himself with an involuntary snort. Harrison could think of plenty of things he’d find more enjoyable than spending his evening in an apartment with a dead body and a prick of a detective sergeant, but at least he seemed to have a sense of humour. The communal area of the building was surprisingly cramped, with the comings and goings of law enforcement personnel and people from other agencies.



“Harrison, the victim is still in situ but the coroner wants him moved out soon for his own examination.”



“It’s okay, take us in and we’ll have a look around.”



Untouched by the investigative team, the apartment was bathed in a dim red light. Most people had some form of cybernetic enhancement and as such, no one had given it a thought. Harrison was one of the few without ocular implants.



“Can’t see a fucking thing. Someone hit the lights.”



Control raised the lighting to an acceptable level, and he entered, closely followed by Reynolds and the floating metal orb that was the Observer Unit. About the size of a grapefruit, it would enter a crime scene and record exactly all of the details about the immediate area, it would also make a log of all the activities of the investigating officers, in order to identify issues such as cross contamination, evidence planting and such. Observer Units also provided the additional benefit of being able to revisit a scene of a crime through the use of an image suite or by simply jacking it in directly if you were unfortunate enough to have a neural lace and sub dermal wireless link. Harrison would use neither, unless he had to. He prided himself on his powers of observation and analysis. There had to be some reason why he hadn’t been fired yet. They took their time walking the apartment; Harrison liked to get a feel for a place before he dived into the minutiae of an investigation.



“We’re looking for a woman.”



The air still reeked of the couple’s fornication. They must have been at it all night from the state of the place. Sheets halfway off the bed, the victim’s clothes scattered about. A silk stocking, obviously from the suspect, draped over the sofa. The OU bobbed around the rooms like a drunken honeybee.

I have been up since 6:30 this morning and now it’s almost 7 a.m. My erection has started, as I get excited and aroused with anticipation, just thinking of what’s coming at 7.



I am scared thinking about what will happen to me in two days and try hard to get it off my mind. I must enjoy the pleasures of the next two days and not think about the future.



There’s a light tap on the door and it opens. It’s Eva and I’m very pleased to see her. She’s wearing a loose white top with very brief red shorts. I see that her breasts are pushing against her top and they move whenever she moves. She sits beside me on the bed and starts small talk. She slowly pulls off her top so I can see her lovely breasts. They are absolutely perfect in size and shape; with lovely smooth white skin. They have large brown areolas, and nipples that are not erect… yet.



She has always been on the shy side, with no dirty talk: just “How are you today”, “Shall we get started, then”, and stuff like that. She sounds as though she is embarrassed about the whole thing. I can’t take my eyes off of her beautiful tits – they fascinate me.



She touches the front of my pants and starts to undo my belt. She reaches in and touches my dick very gently. “Getting hard already”, she says, “I’m glad that you’re pleased to see me”.



She takes my hands and puts them up to her breasts. “I know that you like to touch my breasts”, she says. “I would like it if you stroke me here while I stroke you” She gets me to take my clothes off. I fondle her lovely tits and feel the nipples becoming erect. She pushes against my body so that I can feel her bare skin against mine. It is very sensual and I am very aroused; my dick is standing to attention, very hard. She touches my erect dick, then she feels around my buttocks. Her hands come back to my penis and she slowly puts her hands right around it. She very gently rubs up and down. She reaches around my balls and squeezes softly. She has been taught the best ways to arouse a man, and she was a good student.



She kisses my lips, gently at first and then with more passion. He pushes her tongue into my mouth and moves it around. She is moving her body against mine all the time so I can feel her breasts against my chest.



Her breasts feel soft and smooth and I love their touch. She stands up and wriggles out of her shorts and panties. Her genital hair is light and fuzzy; almost invisible. I know that Eve will not let me touch her there, against the rules! I can see that she is very slightly damp now. I can smell her sexual odour: a musty, sweet smell.



I also know that she will let me lick and suck her tits, but I ask her anyway. She says it’s OK, so here I go! I suck on her tits and flick at the nipples with my tongue. I run my tongue around the areola and then suck as hard as I can. She gently moans when I do this. I am very stimulated now and I can feel that my dick is super hard. I can feel her hand rubbing me and stroking around my genital area and my balls.



We are both aware of the time. It is 7:34, in about 11 minutes she will be getting impatient and start moving faster – she has to be out of here before 7:45 to have time to get to her next customer.



She stops rubbing and gets the cloth and lotion to do the required cleaning of my penis. She wipes it all around with the cleansing tissue, and then she puts her hand right around my cock, and rubs slowly up and down. I am very hard. She is quite gentle and she rubs right down to my balls and then up to the very top of the glans. She is very gentle and very good. She has an amused look on her face.



I’m sucking her tits, one after the other, and stroking her other tit.



I see her glancing at the clock and she starts rubbing faster, first with one hand, then with both hands. I am getting very close to orgasm. She slows down and says, “We still have a few minutes, let’s not hurry too much”. She knows that if she keeps me hard as long as possible, I will have the most semen and sperm; that what she wants. She rubs around my buttocks and my chest. I am sucking hard on her tits. She lets out a soft moan.



After a few minutes and a check of the time she continues rubbing me with one hand and reaches for the plastic vial with the other. My semen is precious to her, that’s why she’s here. She will be judged on the quantity and the quality of the sperm.



Now she is rubbing very hard and fast and squeezing my penis all the way up and down. She is looking down at my penis, waiting for the moment. I cannot hold it back any longer and I shoot my load into her vial. She continues rubbing gently until I start to get limp, then she gets up, puts the cap onto the vial and checks the label: -her name, my name, date and time are all correct. She washes her hands, hurriedly dresses, checks her hair in the mirror, then gives me an affectionate peck and a sweet “Goodbye”, and she is gone. She is off to the next person on her schedule, to do the same thing again; she must do this 4 times before lunch. It is 7:48 a.m. She has 12 minutes to get ready for the next man.



I am free for 2 hours until the next session at 10:00, I can go get breakfast, go to the gym, play tennis, or many other activities here, as long as I am back by 10, for the next session, the next girl, the next hand job and the next time I shoot my load into the tube. I don’t know who the next girl will be.



They need my semen, or rather, my sperm; that’s all I am here for; just like a stud horse or a prize bull. All males are tested when they are 16 years of age: and I was selected, which means I was healthy enough. They treat me royally: I get everything I need except for my freedom. I am in this complex, on this island from my 18th birthday until tomorrow, January 15, 2056, when I reach the age of 19. There will be a special birthday and farewell present for me.



Here’s the routine: Every morning at 7 a.m. one of the girls taps at my door and comes in. She is always wearing some brief outfit, usually a short skirt, loose top with no bra, and high heels. She says hello and usually starts some small talk. She pulls off her top to reveal her breasts, then her shorts or skirt and panties. She sits on the bed and touches me in a caressing way. She might come over and kiss me on the lips, or just stroke my pants at the front. Depending on which one of the girls it is, she might talk dirty or she might act innocent. Sooner or later she gets my clothes off and takes me in her hand. Once I’m good and hard she washes me with the special tissue, dries me off, and then rubs me until I shoot my load, then goodbye till next time!



We are not allowed certain things: absolutely no fucking, no touching her cunt, but I am allowed to touch the girls’ tits if she lets me. Usually they don’t like me getting them too aroused and wet because they have to do this over and over again. We can fool around, kissing, fondling, and stroking for awhile, but after about 30 minutes the girl gets nervous and glances at the clock, because she has to leave before 7:45 to go do the same thing to the next guy. The main thing is that I shoot my load into a plastic tube and she seals it, checks the label, and then leaves, and takes the precious juice out with her.



I get back in plenty of time for the next tap on the door at 10 a.m., it’s the same thing. Evelynn lets herself in, spends half hour with me, brings me to climax and collects my semen then leaves. Every three hours all day, last one at 10 p.m, 6 times a day, 6 days a week, (Sundays are a day of rest).



There are 15 girls; all are between 18 and 20 years old, all pretty and in excellent health and with beautiful bodies. They have been selected in the same way as we have: a rigorous checking of health, background, family history, psychological aptitude, general ability and intelligence, and of course, beauty. The girls come from all racial backgrounds: European, Asian, Black, Hispanic, and lots of mixes; they have one thing in common: they have beautiful bodies. There are 10 men in this complex, all here for the same reason: we are involved in making babies for the continuation of the human race.



When I first came here I had two days orientation where I was introduced to all the girls and I was told what the routine was and how I was to behave. The following day I started right in. The first morning Anita came in at 7:00 and it turns out that she was always first for new boys. She was very soft-spoken and gentle. She just sat beside me and talked about what we had to do. She said it was for the good of the human population. She stroked me very casually until I was erect, then put her hand around me and started to rub. I kept the erection for a few minutes, then when I thought about what was going on, I started to go limp. She kissed me full on the lips and gave me her tongue. She still had her hand around my cock and slowly massaged until it started to come up again. She was very understanding and talked me through it, and I finally came into her vial. She told me it would get easier.



For the first week I was a bit shy and more than a bit embarrassed: these girls that I didn’t really know, coming in my room and rubbing my cock. By the second week I started feeling better about the whole thing – especially when I got to know the girls. By then I looked forward to each visit, and started to get hard when the time got close. By the third week I couldn’t do without it, I was addicted to the sessions every three hours, and on Sunday I could hardly wait for Monday morning.



Someone must have figured out that 3 hours is the best time for each visit, when the semen and sperm has reached a level for the next squirt. It works for me every time. Of course Monday morning is the best, after more than 24 hours since the last time, I have more and better cum, and of course it feels much better.



On Sunday we get our weekly lecture where they keep telling us what a great job we are doing for the human race. They tell us again about the wars of the 2030′s and then the epidemics, after which the world’s population was down to less than half a million people with only 600 males of reproductive age. Sometimes we see pictures of lots of young girls, they say we helped to create, but we don’t see any boys.



This complex is run by women, as is the world government. They have a female-only government that keeps the male population to less than 1,000 (they will not reveal how), while the females number half a million. They came up with this method of repopulating the earth. Who am I to argue? They figure that it was the men who caused the problems and they will not let this happen again. We are here in Ilna Island in the southern part of New Zealand, which is one of the few areas of the Earth that is still hospitable to humans. There is no connection allowed between men and women; not even meeting. Only selected women are allowed to have babies, and that is by artificial insemination in another reserved area; another island.



Tomorrow is my farewell party that includes a special gift. After a few drinks and speeches from the supervisors, I get 3 hours in a private room with up to three of the girls of my choice. I get unrestricted sexual activity – whatever I want to do and the girls agree. I’ve been talking to the girls about this and the three I have picked out are all keen. I have been going over in my mind what I’m going to do. In three hours I can have at least four to five good ejaculations, maybe more. I’m not sure if I should have the first one as fast as possible, to get more in, or extend the pleasure of the first for awhile.



I have to choose three of the girls for my party tomorrow, so here goes. I think I will pick these:



Juanita is Hispanic with dark skin, big brown eyes, and beautiful black hair. She acts very innocent and shy, but is very cooperative and will do almost anything that I ask (except fucking of course). She always seems shocked when I ask her, but she gives the little shy smile and says, “OK”. We lie on the bed, head to tail, and she lets me sniff her cunt while she gets both hands around my cock with her tiny hands, and her cunt has the most wonderful smell. She keeps saying she loves me, but I think this is just to bring me on. She calls me “Johnny” which is not my name!



Angelique has a very sexy French accent, and she talks very sexy. Yesterday when she came she told me that my sperm count with her was the highest than with any other girl, and I believe this because she arouses me to a wonderful climax. She told me that this is very good for her record. Her position is to stand behind me, very close so I can feel all her body pressing against my back, while she rubs me with two hands. We stand in front of the mirror so we can see what’s going on. One hand is down around my balls while the other holds the top. She likes it if I put my hands on top of hers’ and we rub together. She knows when I am coming so she can quickly get the vial ready for the precious cum.



Monika has piercing blue eyes, beautiful high cheekbones, and long blonde, almost white hair. She has a thin body and tiny pointy breasts. She has a very sexy Polish accent and I love to hear her talk while she rubs me. She talks dirty to me and teases me with her touch and her talk.



I have known for a long time what is in my future, and I dread it. Before I am discharged on Monday morning I get a surgical castration. That’s right – to put it bluntly, they cut off my balls then sew me up and send me away! I’ve had my year of fun and my 3 hours of real sex, and the women of the government have got from me everything they need: all those vials of semen and my sperm, which will all be frozen until needed. They don’t need us men for any other purpose, and they don’t want us causing trouble with our sexuality, so that’s the end of it. I will join the other men to live out my life with just my memories. Tomorrow is my last and only chance.

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