[College Boy Sperm Hole] She takes loads, too

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“So are you a top or a bottom?” I set my Sam Adams down and tried not to choke on the swig of beer lodged in my throat. In the middle of Rachel’s birthday party, we sat on her loveseat in her den and talked privately as the party blared on in the next room. I had just been lured into sex talk with a savvy straight classmate, who knew all the right questions to ask.

As this was my third Sam Adams, I lost my ability to edit. “Total bottom, here”, I replied, with a devilish smile. “So you like to get fucked?” “Uh-huh, big time”, I continued to fill out her oral questionnaire. “So tell me”, she pressed on relentlessly, in her Alabama accent, “what is the kinkiest part or hottest part of your sex life with guys?” My mind darted back and forth, searching for searching for a polite, quick answer. Mud-wrestling? Leather chaps? Lassie? No. She was probing for something genuine and real. So I dropped my guard. “I like to get barebacked”. Oh boy, I skated right into the danger zone – too late now. “You mean being fucked without a condom? Why?” Here comes the safe sex lecture. “Well, I guess I like it when a guy cums inside me. Insemination feels like a meaningful part of the connection you have with a guy”. I knew better – this wasn’t going to fend her off, but she wanted honesty, and I sure just served it up.

She smiled at me, put her hand on my knee and said, “Oh my gaaawd, I know how you feel. I used to think it was gross, but now I love it when my boyfriends cum inside me during intercourse”. Ok, so Alabama girl is kinkier than I thought. “You let your boyfriends cum inside you, without a condom?” I volleyed back to her, grateful to take the spotlight off me for a minute. Rachel explained that she’d been on the pill since she was 17, and inevitably, her boyfriends all get around to asking her if they can skip the condom, since she’s on the pill. Sometimes she relented, sometimes she didn’t. Her current boyfriend is some tightly-wound (but hot) ROTC dude that I’ve met a few times. Rachel confided that ROTC dude told her, on their third date, that he didn’t believe in condoms, and that a guy cumming inside a girl is a natural part of sex, and that natural intercourse was important to him. “And you let him do it? Did you enjoy it?” I asked, now genuinely curious about a straight woman’s perspective. “Well, I was a little squeamish at first, but I wanted to please him and soon enough, it just felt like the right way to have sex with him.” I feel that way too, I told her.

The conversation picked up a bit, in pace and emotion. She told me about weighing the risks of STDs and pregnancy, especially because ROTC man is very fertile, apparently. I shared my internal debates about being HIV negative and knowing the risks of taking loads in my ass. Rachel sighed, “Yeah, well I can know the risks, but I weigh it against the pleasure it brings him and the special connection I feel with him as I open myself to his sperm.” I was amazed, I couldn’t have said it any better. That is why I bareback or at least one big reason. I want a guy to share himself with me fully, to not hold back, and to mark me as his. Risk is part of life, and so is connection.

By the team we reached the bottom of our drink glasses, the banter had become pretty vivid. Rachel told me that she brings an extra pair of panties with her when ROTC dude spends the night, because she drips the next day. I let on that I used to sit in our Sociology class on September mornings, the sperm running down my jeans, having arrived in class not 20 minutes after a policeman neighbor of mine would come over and pump his morning load inside me on his way to work. Rachel was loving it. “So what about Tony?” (A teaching assistant from Buenos Aires that we’re both hot for.) “Would you let him cum in you?” she asked. “Hell yes”, I replied, faking an Alabaman twang. “As deep as he could shoot it inside me.” She cackled. “Get in line, honey, and I think he’s straight”.

I mulled over a catty comeback, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. It was ROTC dude. “Rachel, honey, let’s wind the party down. I want to get some sleep.” I bet you do, Mr. ROTC sperm planter. Maybe it was the beer, but I drifted into reverie for a minute, fantasizing about a boyfriend of my own who didn’t fetishize barebacking and wasn’t hung up on it. He just accepted it as part of his otherwise normal life, and expected it from me. And wasn’t shy about enjoying it. Yeah.

I kissed Rachel goodnight, and happy birthday, and happy turkey day. And I went home fantasizing about Rachel’s insemination that Monday night, but mostly savoring the most unexpected connection of learning that a woman too shares my deepest desires.

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