by Kris Ripper
Hell, it was an orgasm. I didn’t need a study to tell me it was a good thing. Not that it had helped with the self-insems I’d done in the past, but even so, you couldn’t go wrong with an orgasm.
I took a shower, got dressed, and drove to Carlos and Tom’s place. I knocked and got a text in reply.
One moment, please.
Um. Okay. Sure. I stayed outside. Like, even if the door was unlocked, it was a small place, and did I really want to be on the other side of their bedroom door when they were . . . you know. Whatever they were doing. Right now. That was going to take them a moment and end with a baby food jar full of sperm.
Ew. I didn’t even want to think about that.
I lingered outside, pretending to do things on my phone when really I was visualizing the whole process. I’d unscrew the jar, dip in the needleless syringe, pull up his spunk. Sure. No problem. I kind of vaguely remembered what spunk that hadn’t been frozen in a million tiny batches looked like. I’d seen it before. It wasn’t scary. Sure.
I forced myself past the spunk part.
I’d been feeling my cervix every day for two years; I could find it easily. I’d guide the syringe in, depress the plunger slowly, lie back. Get myself off because why not.
Right. Then I’d . . . clean up the stuff and go to work. Sure. Everything was cool.
Carlos opened the door, wearing a housecoat of some ancient vintage that he’d clearly hemmed everywhere to fit him. He handed me a jar.
“Oh my god, it’s still warm.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fresh from the source, as requested. When should we expect you to next come calling?”
“Um.” I tucked the baby food jar carefully into my armpit to keep it at body temp. “Can we do late afternoon?”
“Four is the latest. Then he needs to go in to work.”
“I’ll see you at four.”
Carlos’s eyes glittered with mischief. “My poor husband. You owe him a drink, Zane.”
“I owe him a lot more than a drink.” I kissed his cheek. “Give him my love. I assume he’s—”
“Tied up, at the moment.”
“Ugh, TMI.” I hesitated. “I— Just— I—”
He waved. “Go shoot up, you dirty dyke. Tsk-tsk. They should take your membership card for this. And your toaster oven.”
“And on that note, I’m gonna go fill myself with your hubby’s sperm. See ya.”
“That has a seriously wrong ring to it, thanks a lot.”
“Oh, I know.”
I took my semen and drove home.
Inseminations loomed large in my head, but in actual fact they were the work of three minutes, if you knew what you were doing. But the quantity of fresh instead of frozen was miraculous. It felt like a ten-for-one deal. Judging by how many actual sperm there must be in a sample of this size, it was almost impossible to believe I wouldn’t get pregnant from it. My vials from the cryobank were 0.5 ml. There was like . . . so much more in this baby food jar. So. Much. More.
I didn’t remember there being this much, but I didn’t have a lot of firsthand experience, if you will. Mostly it had been inside a condom or . . . something. It was all sort of foggy. I hadn’t minded the actual sex part of having sex with men. It was the whole total lack of deep emotional resonance that convinced me I was most definitely gay.
Then it was done. Fini. Baby jar: empty. Orgasm: accomplished. I put my clothes on, and just like I’d pictured it, went to work and tried not to think about maybe being in the act of conception every aching second.
It was impossible.
Four o’clock rolled around fast. I was on my way back to Carlos’s when my phone rang through the Bluetooth in my car.
Mildred flashed on the screen. I hit Answer. “Hey.”
“You in your car?”
“Yep. Going to pick up semen.”
Her laughter was a surprised burst. “Damn, Z.”
“What? I tell the truth. What’s up?”
“Nothing that interesting. You want to come over here after? I mean, I don’t know if you have some sort of hippie lesbian skyclad fertility dance to do or something—”
“Okay, first of all, when we dance skyclad, we do it at night, so get that straight.”
She laughed. God, I loved making her laugh.
“Second of all, just because I drive a hybrid doesn’t make me a hippie. And third, sure, but I gotta shoot up. You want me to do that first?” I’d actually planned to park in the hills and inseminate overlooking the Bay, but I’d give that up for Dred’s bed.
Whoa. Inseminating in Dred’s bed. I suddenly felt . . . aroused. At the idea of lying in her bed, shooting Tom’s sperm into my cervix. Which was weird.
“Hell yeah, come here. Can I watch? Is that creepy?”
My clit twitched. “Um. No. I mean yeah. If you want. It’s not— It’s kind of clinical.”
“Z, for real, I bet it’s hotter than the last time I had sex when I was pregnant. Like, I think she thought fisting was done with a punching motion.”
“Okay, ow. Damn.” I pulled up to the curb in front of Carlos’s place. “I mean, sure, Dred. You want me to come over?”
“Hell yes. I’m gonna ask Obie to pick up James. I don’t want to miss this.”
“I’ll, uh, be over in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
Right. This was totally normal. It was totally normal to inseminate in front of the woman I might be in love with while we definitely weren’t dating. Or fake-dating. Or even pretending to fake-date.
I was dripping sweat when Carlos opened the door.
“Jesus! Did you jog here?”
“No. No, I—I think . . . um.”
Tom emerged from the bedroom, dressed for work, and handed me my baby food jar before kissing me on the cheek. “Why do you look like you’ve just escaped a haunted house or something?”
“I do not!”
“You sort of do, yeah.” He grinned. “If you want to stop by Fred’s later, we can do this again. Did it go okay this morning?”
“Yeah, listen, do you have an enormous quantity of semen? Or is that the usual amount?”
He giggled. Truly. Six-four blond man. Giggling.
“It had been seventy-two hours, darlin’.” Carlos handed me a bottle of water. “You should hydrate.”
“Seventy-two— Oh my god. Did you torture Tom the whole three days? No, never mind, I don’t want to—”
“He loves it.” They kissed. “What’s up with you?”
“Um. Dred just invited me over. To sort of . . . inseminate. In her bed. While she watches.” I closed my eyes and waited for—
“OH MY GOD!”
I waited out their mingled laughter and interjections, trying to cradle the jar in between my arm and my body as fully as possible.
Carlos finally recovered enough to speak. “I can’t even believe the two of you! Well, we don’t want to keep you. Go show Mildred how it’s done, honey.”
“Shut your jerk face.”
“You love my jerk face.”
“Grudgingly. And only because you’re grandfathered in from a time before I was choosy with my friends.”
Tom laughed again. “Should you be so judgey right now? Shouldn’t you be all open and accepting and welcoming or some metaphysical thing to prepare you for baby-making?”
I hit both of them at the same time and almost lost my precious jizz jar. “Damn it!”
“You’re a danger to yourself and others.” Carlos shoved me toward the door. “Go put on a show.”
“Shut your—”
“Jerk face, I know.” He shooed me away. “Go on now.”
“I’m, uh, yeah. I’m gonna go do this now.”
“Only you, Zane. The only person this could possibly happen to is you.”
“It’s not my fault!”
“Uh-huh. Bye!”
I waved and went back to my car.
And took a deep breath.
And drove to the farmhouse.
>
“I am so excited right now.”
That’s how Dred greeted me. At the door. Eyes alight.
“Um.”
That’s how I responded. Baby food jar of semen still squeezed tightly in my armpit.
“Come on.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of the stairs. “We’ll be back, Emerson! Just gotta fill Zane up with sperm, you know how it goes!”
Something clattered in the kitchen. Then Emerson’s voice: “Am I the only one who thinks this is a bit fucking weird right now?”
She laughed, dragging me into her bedroom. “Okay, so, how does this work? Tell me everything.”
There was something irresistibly girlish about her anticipation, as if this were some new hairstyle I could demonstrate, or I’d bought boots she wanted to try on.
Innocent. Happy. Not all that much like Dred, really, except that she was lying on her side on her bed, just like she had the night I’d spent there, surveying me, waiting for me to do something grand. Like conceive a kid.
I put a towel down on the bed between us. I tumbled the syringe (in its sterile envelope; single use only), the wipes, and after a momentary hesitation, my little lipstick vibe, which I’d brought imagining I’d use it in my car.
Do other people not masturbate in their car after shooting a platonic friend’s semen into their vag? Seems reasonable to me.
“Mmm.” She grinned, a bit wickedly. “Z. You are so hot right now.”
“Hey, don’t say stuff like that when we’re not—you know.”
“The reason we’re not is you.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is. We’d be dating if you could decide what the hell you wanted out of life.” Her hand made circles in the air. “Don’t be shy. Show me how you do it.”
I wasn’t feeling shy. Dred, body all soft curves, lying there, watching me. Shy wasn’t the problem.
“You’re kind of a tease.”
“Am not.”
“Your very being here is a tease.”
The smile deepened. “Am I turning you on, Z?”
“Oh, shut up.”
To prove I wasn’t turned on, or shy, I took my slacks and undies off. Take that, smartass.
Of course, then I was standing there. With no pants.
“Anyway, I gotta do this kind of fast.” Brusque and businesslike, that was the ticket. I pulled the jar out of my pit and handed it to her. “Keep that warm.”
“Okay.” She stuck it in her shirt.
“Is it— Did you just put my semen between your breasts?”
Both of us giggled.
“Right, so, maybe I should rephrase.”
“Yeah, baby, I got your semen right here. Hubba-hubba.”
“Alternative insemination really brings out the goofy in you, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t know until today, but I think it does. It’s so . . . I don’t know, it actually seems way more magical because it’s nothing like the usual. Like it’s so odd, that I guess I find it kind of charming. Plus, you won’t end up saddled with a Brian, so there’s that.”
“True. No other parent here.” Right. I could do this. I could totally do this. We’d had sex one time. I could totally spread my legs and feel around for my cervix on her bed. “So, uh, this gets—yeah. Well. Anyway. I’m going to do this now.”
“Finally. Should I open your spunk jar?”
“Jizz jar, thank you very much.”
“Jizz jar! Please tell me I can bring it down after and ask Emerson if he’ll throw it in the dishwasher?”
“That’s, uh— Yeah, okay, now that you said it we sort of have to.” I climbed on the bed and pretended I was alone. Spread legs, achieve angle. I used my left hand on my cervix so my right could control the syringe. Easy as pie. “Will you unscrew my jizz jar, please?”
She giggled again.
I tilted the syringe to suck up as much as I could get (slightly less this time, I thought), then, hello awkward part, I inserted it into my vag and used my fingers to direct it to the right place.
“Holy. Shit. This is amazing.” Dred actually got closer, closer, like that wasn’t weird.
“So now. Yeah. Here we go.” I slowly, very slowly, depressed the plunger. I’d worried about drippage, but there hadn’t been too much earlier. Slow and steady.
And done. I slooowly pulled the syringe out. Obviously there was a lot more than I was used to dealing with, but still. Waste not, want not.
I dropped the syringe in the jar, briefly considered and rejected the idea of trying for the dregs left on the sides, and finally relaxed back on the bed.
A wipe hovered in front of my face. I took it and mopped my hands. “Thanks.”
“You still got one step left, if I’m reading this situation right.”
“Nah. There’s not enough evidence that orgasms actually help conception for me to go out of my way. I just wanted to make sure I could if I wanted to.” I tilted my pelvis a little, encouraging all the swimmers to get in where they’d count. “This is when I always think of that sequence in Look Who’s Talking. Remember? Kirstie Alley?”
“You saying Tom’s sperm is getting around right now?”
“Hopefully they’re going straight for their goal.”
“So. Z.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Huh?”
“Not for nothing, but I could help you with the orgasm. Just in case it actually does aid conception.”
“Uh, but . . . I thought we weren’t having sex.” Oh, brilliant, Zane. Was now really the time I wanted to be asking her to clarify stuff?
Then again, maybe it was.
“It wouldn’t be sex so much as, you know, assisted-assisted reproduction. I’d be your assistance assistant.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is this turning you on? Oh my god, Dred, are you hot for making a baby in your bed right now?”
“Hey, this bed already made one baby. Why not go for two?” She picked up my vibe. “But you should come fast, so we don’t leave Emerson hanging too long.”
“I don’t— Are you sure—”
The lipstick vibe wasn’t my favorite—there was only so much one double-A battery could do—but in Dred’s hands, with her manic grin backing it up, and considering that everything around me smelled like her—
I grabbed her hand and dragged it to my clit.
“Fuck yes.” She shoved the towel and everything on it out of the way and moved in.
“I gotta stay on my back, you know, so gravity—”
“Shh, Z. Let me do a thing.”
She did a thing, all right. She did me.
The second the vibrator touched my clit, I wanted to come, arching into it like it packed a much more serious punch than it did. With Dred driving, the vibe hummed and my body throbbed in answer, hips hungrily jerking up in search of more.
“Oh damn.” She looked extremely satisfied with herself. “I can’t believe you just had sex with a syringe full of semen.”
I groaned. “Not sexy.”
She laughed and claimed my leg in between hers. I spread myself open wider so I could shove up a little higher, but she wasn’t having it.
“Naughty girl.” The vibrator shifted away, making me pant in frustration. “Do you want to come, Z?”
“Come on! This orgasm is for fucking reproductive purposes!”
“Holy shit, we’re having potentially procreative sex right now. Zane, we are fucking up the whole court case against gay marriage right here in my bed!”
I angled for the vibe and finally caught it right on the underside of my clit where I desperately needed it to stay. I locked on to her wrist so she couldn’t pull away again. “Thought . . . you said . . . wasn’t sex—”
“That was before I knew we were giving the anti-marriage bigots the finger. Now we’re totally having sex. Hate sex with the radical right.”
“Stop making me laugh!” I twisted and twitched, and for a second I thought it wasn’t going to happen. Something
about Dred made me confident and totally insecure all at the same time, like everyone thought I was queen of the world but I was really just a court jester. “Kiss me,” I begged, desperate now. “Please, Dred. Please kiss me.”
She didn’t hesitate. She pinned me to the mattress with the vibrator to my clit and kissed me ruthlessly. I arched up everywhere we touched, and finally the vibrations did their job. Finally I could feel everything in me light up as a wave of pleasure crashed down, radiating from my clit all the way to my toes, to my ears.
I was shaking, still shaking, when she powered the vibe off. But she didn’t move away.
“You’re so beautiful.” Her voice was a bit harsh, as if she’d been shouting. Or maybe as if she was trying to hide some other emotion beneath a layer of roughness.
I swallowed, blinking fast. “Thanks.”
Jesus, her eyes, brown and deep, like I could see everything she’d ever seen just by looking into her eyes. Like I could show her everything of myself if only I dared to keep looking.
I bit my lip and fell back. “So thank you. For, um, assisting.”
“You’re welcome.” She shifted until we were side by side. “Will you be okay? I mean, I guess it seems like it might be a little lonely after inseminating. You can stay for dinner.”
“Yeah, thanks. I will. And not totally lonely, but yeah. There’s a sense of . . . emptiness sometimes. It’s too soon to feel anything, so I guess I feel a whole lot of nothing. But I think I’ll stop by Club Fred’s and pick up another donation, since I have the option. Maybe right around ten.”
“If you want to come back here after, you can.”
I turned my head, but she wasn’t looking at me. “Uh. Okay.”
“I mean if you want to spend the night. Sometimes it’s nice not to be alone. That’s all I’m saying.”
Was she asking for me? Or for herself?
Fuck it, why did it matter?
“I’d like that.” I thought about her arms around me.
“No kissing. That was for reproductive purposes only.”
“Okay.” I could deal with those terms. “So I guess we should go downstairs.”
“Yeah. You think everything that’s gonna swim up has already done it?”