Justin Caas - The Third Sex

“Yes, it’s true enough,” I admitted, “except that the Gina tends to keep more to herself than the others and of course she’s too young to get involved with intercourse. But the other six are keen on it.”

“I’m fascinated by the whole concept of Studs. I mean they’re not exactly common, and meeting you—apart from being good friends, that is—I just can’t believe I’m speaking to a real one.”

I smiled, “Well, I’m real enough.”

Jim hesitated as if considering whether his next question would overstep the bounds of friendship and after watching the frown of concentration disappear I guessed that curiosity had eventually overcome discretion. He blurted out, “I mean you do them all at once, like on the same day?” He immediately looked apologetic. “Forget I said that.”

“That’s okay. Our lifestyle is pretty relaxed. Mostly on Saturdays when we have time to lie-in a bit, if the girls are so inclined they may wander in to our bedroom and crawl into bed with Lucy and me for cuddles. Sometimes the cuddles turn amorous and I will slip into one of the girls—which is usually enough to ensure that the others all want it too. Lucy usually gets up and makes us a cup of tea while this is happening because of all the bouncing around. But of course after we’ve had our cup of tea, Lucy decides she wants it too. And some mornings some of the girls may decide they want a second helping, as it were. So it’s a busy time for me.”

Jim had been keeping silent track of scores and announced in a voice of wonder, “You mean to say you go at it one after the other a dozen times in a row? That’s unbelievable!”

“It’s not a problem. You have to remember we were made that way. It’s what we were designed to do.”

Jim was silent for a long time as many possibilities raced through his head. “You ever think of trying it with a mare?”

I shook my head. “No moral objections to it, but Studs are generally not interested in other species, although there are exceptions.

A few days later Lucy said, “Guess what? Sally confided that she’d really like to have a baby before it gets too late.”

“That’s nice. I’m sure Jim would be pleased to help out if his enthusiasm for his mare is anything to go by.”

“True,” Lucy acknowledged. “Except that she’s turned off men. Maybe she was thinking of artificial fertilisation.”

“I don’t think that Jim would go for that,” I laughed. “I’m pretty sure Jim would want the real thing or nothing.”

On Friday Jim and I arranged to check out the last of the fences on the north side of our respective properties. These were the only ones in poor repair and the work went faster when two people were involved because some operations were awkward to do by yourself. It was a fine day and hot sunshine took its toll on our drink bottles. Mostly the fencing was in good shape. Some lines needed tightening, and the bracing on some corner posts needed renewing. We worked along the northern boundary until it was almost time for lunch. But first, Jim decided, an urgent stop for a pee. It reminded me that I needed the same relief, slipped by jeans down and squatted to the side. When I glanced up I could see Jim staring at me, like a statue, frozen in time.

“What?” Then it dawned on me, the sight already had Jim erect. I should have been more discreet.

“Jeez, that sure does look like a female one,” Jim observed, “begging your pardon but I don’t get the chance to see anything like that up close these days.”

“That’s okay. I tend to forget. A woman wouldn’t of course but then they’re brought up from earliest childhood, aware of how men are affected by a glimpse of their body. I guess it looks like a woman down there, but I think like a man.”

Jim nodded, “Pity it didn’t work like a woman down there as well.”

“Oh, but it does. Or rather it can. From what men have said, it feels pretty much the same too.”

Jim’s member stiffened appreciably. “So you’ve done it with men?”

“A man is bound to be curious when he sees what looks like a vagina so I’ve often been asked if it works like one also. There was a nurse at one of the clinics, a man who was standing in for the regular nurse. He apparently had regular intercourse with the previous Stud when there weren’t any bookings for ladies seeking to become pregnant. He was one of those men who is just naturally keen on fucking—and when the Stud currently in residence moved to another location and I moved in, Mr Nurse prevailed on me to grant him the same privileges.”

“Wow!” It took Jim a moment to digest this momentous news. “Did it do anything for you?”

“In a strange way, yes. I hadn’t expected much, but was surprised to discover it to be quite satisfying. You have to realise of course that apart from the brief (for ordinary men at least) moment of orgasm, most of the anticipation, the urges, the surrounding emotions either before or after—is all in the mind. It’s the mind that creates the mood which translates into emotion and emotional involvement—not the penis.”

I could see what was coming next, but decided to give Jim more of the theory before he became too overwrought. “And for me I suppose the fulfilling part was the sense that I was even in a minor way, experiencing something of the emotional involvement that a woman might. It was tied up with a sense of submission, of letting go which is so different from my usual male rôle of initiating, directing taking and impregnating.”

“The philosophy is way over my head,” Jim observed, “but the sight of that goes straight to my dick! You prepared to search for some new theoretical insights about being fucked because it’s getting pretty urgent for me right now.”

My fault I suppose for displaying myself like that. Jim spread a rug from his saddlebag, on the ground and I lay down for him. It’s a strange sensation. Memories of Carl came back as Jim slid into me. There were also tumultous sensations of a different sort when I sensed Jim become tense, rigid and a moment later sprayed into me. At that moment I had the clearest sensation of receiving into my body an essence of his masculinity which went beyond something physical. It was more of in the nature of an energy. So perhaps it is true that the typical aftermath of male post orgasmic deflation—what the French call la petite mort may not be simply a lost energy, but vitality transferred.

Jim looked utterly drained and at the same time utterly grateful. When he had time to come down to earth he remarked, “Any more of that could become seriously addictive.”

“What’s Bella going to think?” I chided him.

“More to the point, what would Sally think? I can’t even begin to imagine. Let’s get started on lunch.”

Saturday morning again, relaxed and talking to Lucy after some strenuous erotic exercises with daughters Elise, Kysenya, Tansu and Elva who had now wandered off. At any moment Fawn may interrupt with an agenda of her own, but for the present at least I had Lucy’s undivided attention. “You were telling me the other day about some teenage experiences and how highly boys rate the experience of being fellated.”

“Yes, that’s true. It’s a highly charged time of a boy’s life. Everything’s new and hair-trigger. It’s also that is rather rare which makes it even more highly prized when it does happen.”

“Why is that? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s probably a lot to do with a male’s often fragile sense of masculinity; it’s something a girl is supposed to do, not a boy and remember this is an awkward time of life when boys are just starting to get to grips with what it is to be male, a man. But that’s not what I was going to tell you about. It’s the very strange sensation—to me at least—that when you receive a male’s sperm into your body either orally or otherwise you are actually receiving a psychic element as well, an energy, vitality. So when a male ejaculates and experiences that ‘little death’ I discovered that the energy is not so much lost as simple transferred to the recipient. Is that not remarkable.”