This post prostate massage is part two of semen donation, a speculative fiction story about my spouse in an alternate world where good sperm is rare, and sleep disorders are common. I think there will be another part after this.
“Yes, I’m 45 years old,” he thought as he woke up. “And today is my first prostate massage.” Something new was exciting–felt like a special day.
His sex life had been strange, as a semen donater. He was whisked away to the facility as a teenager–a normal sex life was denied to him. His sexuality was on a schedule, but he was ok with that. Like three meals a day, he knew what to expect, and he was good at his job. To come by the hand of a tech was usually easy, and he was kind to them, as he moved in and out of dreams.
Normal people had a sex life that might involve youthful experimentation, and more or less masturbation. There could be homoerotic experiences, a first time with oral sex, p in v sex, anal sex. First condom, first sexual relationships, long term partnership. Coming our as queer, trans, any sexual or gender variety. Bdsm, threesome, maybe voyeurism. Sex work is normal, like camming. Love, loss, building a life with someone.
My spouse’s experiences had been much more limited. He felt curious about other ways of living, but the regularity of his own life suited him.
Prostate massage might be a thing people try, at a certain age, with a partner. But he didn’t have a partner. He felt nervous and curious about the day’s semen donations.
As he went in for this morning donation, he looked around to see if things seemed different. He took off his clothes and lay on the table. A donation harvester he liked came into the room with someone he had never seen before.
She was a tall woman with a quick smile.
“Here’s the prostate massage expert,” said the semen harvester.
My spouse felt a jolt of arousal, to meet this person who would be touching him in a new way. His dick swelled.
“Pleased to meet you,” the prostate massager said warmly.
My spouse was falling asleep despite his curious excitement. He drifted off then jerked awake, trying to pay attention.
“The prostate massage expert is going to put on gloves and lube, and she will reach into you, to massage your prostate as I get ready to collect the donation,” she explained to my half-asleep spouse.
“Ok,” my spouse muttered. He liked that he had no choice. They didn’t ask him if he wanted the prostate massage–it was part of his work duties.
The harvester began to rub my spouse’s dick, and the prostate massager put on the gloves and lube. She pushed a finger against my spouse’s asshole, and his body jerked again, surprised although he knew it as coming. Luckily he had pooped well that morning, and his rectum was empty.
The harvester was curious how my spouse would react to the prostate massage. His dick felt different in her hand than usual–she had made him come countless times. She knew he might ejaculate in a different way than usual, and she should be alert to catch the semen at any time. She was ready.
The prostate massager took a strange pleasure in entering the ass of a person who probably had never had their ass entered in this way. She pushed harder on my spouse’s asshole, and he sighed.
“Try to relax,” the prostate massager said gently. “You’re safe with us.”
My spouse took a deep breath and made an effort to relax his body. Being entered in this way was unusual. But he’d had only good experiences here so far. A few night harvests had been confusing and awkward, but on a table at the facility, he had always been happy.
When he was young, he came eagerly and easily. As he got a older, he was well-trained, and the ejaculations seemed simple by now. He tried to give himself over to the experience and trust these kind workers.
His hard dick was in the hand of the harvester. She had paused, but she began rubbing his dick again, as the prostate massager slipped her finger a tiny ways into my spouse’s asshole.
He started, then slipped into a dream, as the prostate massager slightly moved her finger in his lubed ass, and the harvester had her semen catching materials ready.
My spouse held a large, soft mermaid in his arms, and his dick was pushing insistently into her went cunt. The pleasure was overwhelming on his dick and filling his entire body. Her cunt felt like a smooth, slippery passageway of pure joy, and he could fuck away at it, sliding in and out again and again, with total welcome and ease.
The mermaid was at least as horny as he was, and likewise filled with bliss. She was happy to be fucked for as long as he wanted, and he had the feeling his life was this complete joy.
He felt a probing in his ass that didn’t make sense, on the shore of this island, but the pleasure in his body only intensified. He felt a new rhythmic thrumming deep in body. The warm, wet pleasure was inside and outside of him.
Then a need stirred with different intensity, that he couldn’t hold his semen in any longer. He couldn’t keep fucking her forever–with something like intense hunger, he needed to come. The need told him to ejaculate and fill this mermaid with more wet love. His quest to impregnate all of the mermaids was simple, and his body was ready to try as hard he as could.
He slowed down, savoring this moment. He looked at the mermaid and found her beauty incomprehensible. Then he fucked and fucked harder this kind mythological creature, holding her hugeness, so slippery and real. His need to come intensified to impossible.
Then he groaned as finally, his body was delivering its load to the fat, gorgeous mermaid who begged him to give her more, in her incomprehensible merlanguage. Her salty tits jiggled with every thrust, and she cried out for him something repetitive like “yes, yes, yes,” as he pushed his dick as deep as it could go. He pinned her hard on the rocky shore, to come as harshly as he could, far into her willing cunt, both of them aching with need and made of animal pleasure.
He woke up crying out on the table, as he ejaculated. The harvester collected his semen. The prostate massager had her finger in his ass. She’d been massaging his prostate skillfully, glad this donater tolerated the massage well as he slept.
She withdrew her finger and cleaned up, putting her gloves in the trash and washing her hands, ready to make notes on the procedure. Her notes would be combined into a report later with the notes of the harvester, and analysis from the lab of volume collected and quality of sperm.
My spouse was disoriented to wake up on the table, no longer with the mermaid, and embarrassed to have come so loudly in the hand of the harvester. His yell echoed in his ears. He felt worried, as if he had been unkind, making the harvester’s job more difficult with his noise. He lay on the table catching his breath.
The harvester felt flustered, wondering what went on in the dream of my spouse. Her nipples had hardened under her shirt, and her cunt had perked up with curiosity, as she responded sexually in a way that she usually didn’t.
She felt a twinge of guilt, to care so much for this sleepy donater. She helped him off the table without a word.