What?! Again With The Sperm??!!!

O Yeah!
We can't get enough!
And neither can the sperm examination clinic!

On the fertility road, one comes upon the lovely
opportunity to deposit ones sperm in a little plastic container.

The honor became that of The Beloved just the other day.

Leading up to this I had somewhat horrifying images
of Porno Room in my head, and asked Beloved if he
would mind my going along to Help Out.

"Because you don't want me dealing with porn?"
"Because I don't want you dealing with porn."
"No problem."

I love The Beloved. 
Much like his name might suggest.

Planning consisted of me tossing around super-sexed
images of myself performing all sorts of things
to make this the experience of Beloveds medical life.

Added to this was that Beloved was not allowed
to ejaculate for 4 days leading up to said event.

4 release free days for Beloved is an Awful Eternity.

Plus, it was during one of his vacation weeks,
a time where we indulge my favorite time
of day for sex: afternoon hot love time.

(let it be noted that The Cat is yelling at
me for no known reason while I write this.

Beloved was particularly generous in the
days leading up, and indulged in much
Tantric sex stuff...quite unusual for his
viewpoint on sex...and very, very intimate
space making.

So I wanted fireworks for his payoff.
I mean, how often do you get to bonk
in a doctor's office.

O Dear Reader.
How foolish we are when we think
we can control the Universe.

Beloved ended up getting his first case
of "blue balls," a term which turns
my stomach...and for which there is
no term in French.

The morning arrived.
I showered, dressed appropriately with my
favorite black boots.  However, nothing
else beyond the professional.  I didn't want
to be a sideshow.

I expected there to be a herd of couples
waiting to expel their accompanying millions
of sperm in the waiting room.  This would be
a particularly dangerous situation for me were
we in the US, since I would not be able to resist
pouring on the vulgar jokes in idle chit chat
with the other couples....but in French, my humor,
and theirs, is limited.  So Beloved was safe
from that sort of embarrassment. 

I was also afraid that the nurses would not let
me into the Rocket Release Cabin with Beloved.
I intended not to ask, and to just stride my 5'10"
self past them, staring them down should I be stopped.

But of course, see above Universe comment.

Let it be said that I was more nervous for
Beloved's sperm deposit than for any other medical
procedure in my life.  And it wasn't even MY procedure!

The waiting room was empty.
It seems that the French are quite discreet in this arena.
All couples are timed to be alone in the waiting room.

We filled out paper work and the nurses did not
at all seem surprised to see me with Beloved.

Then a nurse took us into the Rocket Room.
She seemed to take it for granted that I was coming along.

A clean room with a little bed, a tv on the wall,
a side table with drawer, and, my absolute
favorite, a bed side lamp for ambiance.

I was ready for the home made porno moves!
I was going to Blow Beloved's Mind!!

The nurse then pointed to the adjoining
bathroom, and told us to follow the cleaning
instructions there. 

I can tell you that Hydrochloric Acid
is a real hot sex mood killer.

Poor Beloved.
Clean Penis with Water.
Then Clean Penis with Hydrochloric Acid.
Then Reclean with Sterile Water.

Beloved, complete with aching testicles,
looked positively forlorn.

While he cleaned up I peeked in the
drawer of the bedside cabinet to see
two sad looking skin magazines.

I then wondered which nurse picked out
the porno that was brimming in the VCR,
and wondered about then men who have
unusual taste...and how they would satisfy
the liquid quota in the face of what had
to be traditional and very unwild moving
images awaiting them.

Beloved plodded into the bedroom.
I washed my hands, since that was all
I could really, ahem, use.

I removed certain pieces of clothing...
and we then proceeded to have the very
least exciting sexual experience of our lives.

Poor Beloved.
Dear Beloved.

7 ml of sperm.
That's what they got of him.

Plus the pleasure of being Right Outside The Door
when we opened it to leave. 
3 of them.  Complete with smiles.

We passed by the next couple, I noted that the
youngish woman of the couple was dressed in a mini-skirt,
black sheer stockings, and very, very, very high heels
and wanted to rush to them and warn them:
It is never what you think!
Buddhist Detachment!
That is what is needed in this experience,
that is the only thing that will leave you feeling
anything other than flat.

We had a coffee.
We did some shopping.
We went home.

And we celebrated the afternoon.
And then we celebrated again.
And, yes, then again.

Beloved is so cute and sexy
that I could just eat his little nose.


Sara Louise said...

7ml... not bad considering all the pressure (not that I've ever measured). And am sure he'll never have to be blue again :-)

Anonymous said...

Miss your posts!