Justin Caas - The Third Sex

I chose my words carefully, “So how, exactly, if you don’t mind my asking, did you ‘spend time’ with this Stud?”

“Well I fucked him of course. He found it quite a novelty being on the other end of one. Started to see things from the client’s point of view.”

“How could you possibly do that? I mean granted that from the front we do look like a female, but there’s a good sized penis in there. Surely that would frustrate your best efforts.”

“Not at all,” Carl explained. “The Stud himself, apart from his other qualities was a bit of an innovator and had discovered a curious feature that may not have occurred to you.”

This was so unusual that I found myself becoming curious to learn more. “Do explain.”

“The way the Stud described it to me, when the time comes for you to start work, as it were and your testicles must descend why do you think your penis doesn’t get in the way when this happens?”

“That’s true. I hadn’t given it much thought.” A bit ironic an ordinary man explaining to a Stud how his insides work.

“The Stud said the penis moves upwards into a sort of pocket. So imagine it like this. It’s lying inside you pointing forward ready to come out, right?”

I nodded.

“Then if you were to slip a finger inside, underneath it and press upwards it would still lie pointing forward but now higher up, tucked into a sort of pocket, only the underside is present along the length of your opening.”

It’s possible I thought. After all I remember that happening all by itself when the testicles descended and I distinctly remembered that it was simply a muscular squeeze to lower the penis again. “As far as I am aware, there’s not a lot of sensation inside that opening,” I commented, “so what sort of a buzz would your Stud be getting from another penis entering it?”

“Can’t say from personal experience,” Carl admitted, except from my end, the sensations were fabulous, just like a real girl’s one and from the Stud’s response he was obviously getting something rather unexpected also.”

I shook my head to clear it. “When’s the sole client of the day turning up?”

“11:00 am.”

“So I’m going out for a coffee. Want to come?”

“Okay, sure. There’s a good place not far down the road.”

The café was set back from the road a little and from the antique furnishings I suspected that at one time it had been a theatre, or perhaps a gentlemen’s club emulating an earlier era. But the coffee was good and Carl proved to be an entertaining speaker and held forth on a variety of topics.

As we were finishing our coffee, Carl made a request, a little tentatively, “While you’re doing it, you know, with the client, would you mind too much if I sat in discreetly on the side?”

“Now that’s a strange question. None of the nurses I’ve met so far have actually asked to be present. Normally that only happens if the client asks a nurse to be present.”

“True,” Carl seemed embarrassed. “But in the past I’ve always asked the client and most are comfortable with the idea.”

“For what purpose actually?” This was turning out to be more weird than I’d expected despite being a small, sleepy township.

Carl rallied a bit. “Well it sort of gets me going. You know, watching. No harm in it is there?”

“I guess not, provided the lady agrees.”

“Thanks very much. It means a lot to me. Not much else happening in this town. By way of recreation I mean.”

No. I suppose there isn’t. The client was a certain Becky Dawson, age 23, petite, long, light brown hair, and little elfish features. She said it was her first time. First time with a Stud, that is. Repeat visits are generally more comfortable. The client knows the score, what’s expected and how it will probably turn out. First times are a little more fragile and most clients tend to be nervous, so we try to take a little longer and spend more time with them making them feel comfortable.

Becky wasn’t really nervous but I sensed she wasn’t all that excited about the prospect either. The tongue is a sensitive instrument, especially on a Stud as it can reach into places normally impossible for an ordinary male and it was while it was exploring some of these very sensitive locations that Becky became animated, began to breathe heavily. To be sure, I spent a little extra time on further intimacies and I sensed now was the right time to mount her. I caught a quick glimpse of Carl standing motionless against the wall, studying every sublety and nuance with a rapt fascination.

I slid gently into Becky then began a rapid thrusting. Becky responded rather more forcefully than I’d expected and was soon away with the fairies. The thrusting slowed then ceased as I entered her fully and began to spray the sperm of new life within her. As we lay together Becky began to talk. She had been married a year and dearly loved her husband and yes he was able to give her a baby but they had discussed it carefully and both agreed that the superior health and genetic options that a Stud was able to offer would give their baby the best chance in life, and with so many unknowns it just seemed prudent to minimise the risks didn’t I think? I agreed, saying that according to the Ministry the health, vitality and overall superior chances in life from a baby conceived by a Stud was well established. I also said that as an artificial breed, we were also dying out. A few more generations perhaps we’d become a rarity.

“I have to come back tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, for three days. Tomorrow could be the definitive one, but you can never tell, humans are unpredictable.”

“So we’d better make tomorrow a special occasion,” Becky said anxiously, “in case you aren’t here next year for another occasion.”

“Oh no worry about that, we’re not dying out quite so fast—at least I hope not. But okay, we’ll make tomorrow a special occasion.”

“Nurse,” I said as I looked down, “If that’s what I think it is, it’s less than professional.”

“Oh that,” Carl gave an insincere smile. “Just an accident really.”

“You sure it was an accident, or did you give it some help?”

“A bit of help, yes. You put on quite a performance.” Carl moved swiftly away to remedy the large stain on the front of his pants.

The following day there were actually two appointments. An early morning one with an older woman who was trying for her fifth son. Not that she would have to try very hard because at the beginning of a new life cycle, the effort was largely mine. I had learned early on that keeping fit is essential. You cannot perform if you’re tired, lethargic or unfit in any way. And if the Ministry is paying, the Ministry doesn’t do excuses.

Madame Flora was a large woman with an untidy mop of greying hair and smelling slightly of sweat. This may or may not be a disincentive to the ordinary male, but for a Stud, sweat carries a lot of feminine pheromones which tend to arouse alertness and readiness to mate to high degree of anticipation. Artificial perfumes are a turn-off and women are advised not to wear any before a mating although some, quite a few actually, ignore the advice in the mistaken belief that their natural secretions will be repelling unless disguised by artificial scents. Nothing could be further from the truth. But try telling that to the young and fashion conscious. Actually the cleansing shower beforehand does a pretty good job of eliminating most artificial fragrances. It worked in the case of Madame Flora as well, except that she tended to sweat a bit even after the shower.

Flora turned out to be the epitome of a woman ready to be mated. She was on heat and exuding lust even before she entered the consulting room. As soon as I entered, she rose and immediately walked a little unsteadily on fat legs to the couch, cast off her bathrobe and gazed at me with a ready anticipation. I could smell her from the doorway and started to become erect at once. Again Carl stood discreetly to one side wearing trousers of a dark shade which, he no doubt hoped, would disguise any impulsive indiscretions.