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[Continued from Brass in Pocket]
“You can’t use lube, moisturizer, not even spit or pussy juice,” warned Cam. “The fitness of the sperm depends upon it.”
“I understand,” said Lo, clinically neutral in tone.
Ted had seen Lo’s photo and was intrigued. He consented to have her help in the donation room.
“I might just observe the first time,” said Lo.
We had been invited to Cam and Gina’s house for dinner in order to meet Ted. It was awkward at first. But Lo’s seductive stares boosted Ted’s ego, I’m sure. I don’t think Lo was as attracted to him, per se, as she was attracted to the idea of being a facilitator for a man to ejaculate. The set-up captivated her more than the stud.
Lo got the call from Cam one afternoon. “It’s time.”
Off she went to their house the next day. I stayed home. I was superfluous to the process. This was two people trying to conceive, after all, not a spectator sport.
Lo and Ted went into the spare bedroom as Cam and Gina were in the master bedroom. Lo had worn a button-down white shirt with a collar. It seemed two sizes too small for her. Under it she wore a lacey red bra. She had on a short leather miniskirt with a red lace thong under it. On her feet were red heels. Her toenails and fingernails were fire engine red…