His Love is in his Balls, She Says

Disclaimer: This story might contain exaggerated portrayals of body parts and consensual adult sexual acts. Please exercise judgment to set realistic expectations for yourself about sex and sexuality.

Claimer: This story might just be a revelation to you about man-woman love!

This is a little story about a lecture that began as an expression of outrage, a lecture about love, a lecture a woman gave me -- a woman who was a nymphomaniac and self-confessed semen addict; a woman to whom I was married.

Part I: Intro: I called her a cumslut

It began with my lovingly, innocently calling her a cumslut. To this day, I haven't understood why she got upset. In any case, it ended with her forcing upon me an explanation of what a man's love is and what a woman's love is.

So well, there I was on a lazy afternoon -- it really didn't use to matter whether it was an afternoon or a night, but I'll get to that in a bit -- there I was, lying on my side, the thick length of my close-to-erect penis lazily extending toward my ex-wife Leah, who had half of it in her mouth. Alternately licking it, sucking it, swirling her tongue around it, pushing her mouth back and forth upon it, suckling on it. All of this with her eyes closed, because she was doing this for herself. All of this with her mouth sealed around it lest a precious droplet of pre-seminal fluid -- leave alone a prized rivulet of rich ejaculate -- drip out of her mouth, lost, wasted.

And then it happened like it had happened so many times before, going back to our first date when she came home with me: I perceived a stream of pre-seminal fluid gathering inside my plumbing, at the base of my penis, about to gently spew forth, about to reach its destination; she felt the slow stream enter her mouth, she quickened the swirling of her tongue to experience the taste as intensely as she could before she'd gulp it and it would go down her throat. The magic happened; she orgasmed just from feeling it on her tongue: First her belly, then her entire body soundlessly spasming -- and then her arms and thighs quivering, all for a good minute or so before the noisy gulp. Satisfaction!

And that's when I said what I perhaps shouldn't have, in a clumsy attempt at composing and chanting a poem: "Leah dear, my sweet cumslut, do you know how slutty you look, so sweet yet so slutty, so petite yet so busty, cumming from tasting my precum... oh-so-lusty, you sweet and slutty little cumslut, you!"

Like I said, I have no idea why that upset her. She dwelled on my penis for a few more seconds before detaching her mouth from it -- and sat up straight. And she opened her eyes after perhaps the full half-hour it took me to produce the first stream of precum.

"What did you call me?"

Part II: Digression: The background story

At this point, I need to get into a little background. I'll keep it short because I want to keep this story short enough to focus on the lecture she proceeded to deliver after that full-body orgasm.

We'd married in a hurry because of sex.

Right at the end of our first date, she'd come over to my place with no insistence on my part; straight into my bedroom we went, down went my jeans and straight at my cock she went -- managing one plain sentence before clamping her lips upon it: "Oh, this is the biggest male organ I've ever seen. In fact, I didn't know a man's penis could be so big. Hmm. I need to take it in my mouth if that's OK." And that's what she did before I could even manage the "OK."

There's no need for detailing my dimensions, but the important thing is that -- as she told me later -- it was the first penis she'd seen that was, in her words, "big enough for me." And there's no need to get into any detail about her bodily attractiveness; I'll just allow myself to say her breasts were globular rather than thrusting out; heavy -- or "weighty" -- rather than big. How many pints of semen I massaged into those queenly breasts over our first few months together!

But I digress. The point here is that whatever my size, that wasn't the most important thing for her; it wasn't even all that important, in fact. Desirable, perhaps, but not important. What was important, though, was the fact that back then, I could "cum like a horse" as the phrase goes -- and not just once a day; more like four, as I remember. And that is what got Leah hooked on me right that first night.

Then as she lay back, her head on the extra pillow I maintained for the women I'd bring home, she said in as bland a manner as you can imagine: "Umm. I've never drunk so much semen in one night from a man before. I'd pretty much lost hope. I never thought I'd find a man who'd feed me as much ejaculate as I need."

Well, of course I was proud of my ejaculate volume -- but I couldn't figure why it was, apparently, so important for her.

I asked her.

Again a bland response, delivered in as un-romantic and un-sensuous a manner as you could possibly expect: "Well, what do you think? Drinking the contents of a man's ball-sac makes me feel sexy, happy, loved. It makes me feel like a woman. And... yeah, the more the semen my man gives me to drink, the more I feel like he's a real man. Umm... I mean, yeah, it's as simple as that."

With that, she turned to her side, facing away from me, telling -- not asking -- me to "hold my breasts. Press them firmly." And then: "Umm. I'mgoing to sleep if you don't mind."

You'll notice she consistently said "drink" rather than "swallow." That's perfectly correct: A swallow is one gulp. "Drinking" refers to a series of swallowing actions -- which is exactly how she'd ingested my semen all three times that night: My penis would pulsate, stretching out her lips, I'd let out a spurt, she'd gulp. And again. And again. No collecting a pool of it in her mouth. "Drink it as it comes" had been Leah's fantasy -- the best way, she'd imagined, of enjoying her man. And I'd made her fantasy a reality.

That's pretty much what she'd meant by "as much ejaculate as I need"; to take her word for it, I was the first man she'd met who could ejaculate so much that she needed to drink it as it came, rather than swallow it, to avoid leakage or spillage.

And believe it or not, it was that ejaculatory capability of mine that got us each so hooked on the other that we actually got married. Her idea was she'd never "feel like a woman" every day with any other man; my idea was that I'd never meet another woman who was as much of a lusty cumslut as Leah was.

As an aside, she was the most unromantic, un-passionate woman I'd ever been with. For Leah, intercourse was absolutely and entirely functional; the act comprised the mating of the organs or, in our case -- considering male penis size and female body size -- the expansion of the inside of her lower abdomen from left to right, from top to bottom, by means of getting my penis pushed into her. The process of pushing it in up until her cervix would often take upwards of fifteen minutes. And after that, stuffing in the part that remained outside her body involved considerable physical effort on my part, a good deal of agonizing pain for her with copious tears streaming from her eyes -- every single time -- because during this phase of the "insertion" (if it could be called that), my organ would press and grind harder and harder right against her cervix.

No matter how slowly I proceeded, the fact was that the pressure would just get more and more painful -- until at some point, her vagina would just "give up." It would loosen up, relax, kind of fall apart; I'd then feel it warmly extending down, down, down to the base of my penis -- which the lips of her vulva would then lovingly grip.

Her first orgasmic contractions would begin at that exact moment. From her lower abdomen, up, up they'd go -- until her belly spasmed uncontrollably, her breasts heaving up and down and swaying left and right, quivering as they heaved and swayed; then her arms and thighs would tremble, and...

But I digress! My point was that at no point through all this would there ever be the slightest expression on her face, the slightest frown, the slightest facial contortion, the faintest sound. No rolling of the eyes, I mean, absolutely nothing: Eyes calmly shut all the while. If I ejaculated inside her body... another body-quaking, three-minute-long orgasm; no facial or vocal expression, though. If I withdrew and kneeled above her face, penis hanging downward... mouth clamp, lick, lap, suck, slurp, drink, drink, drink. No expression.

And the one time I asked her about this phenomenon, so to speak, her explanation was articulate enough but made no sense (to me, at least): "Honey, I don't see why any woman would get passionate about what she does in bed with a man! It's my needs you're satisfying, and I'm getting what I need... I mean, when you're eating, do you go about throwing your head from side to side, arching your back or whatever?"

And finally, if you're wondering why our marriage didn't last, it's because we began spending too much time in bed every day, eventually taking extended vacations -- on various pretexts -- from work, living off our savings, and so forth and so on. That story is so ridiculous I wouldn't dwell upon it; suffice it to say we both realized soon enough that our lives couldn't go on like that!

Part III: The lecture: Leah talks about love

Let's get back to the story. So yeah, I called her a cumslut, she broke the tight seal between her mouth and my penis, she sat up, she said "What did you call me?"

She seemed all but livid -- so much so that she then stood straight up and crossed her arms. It was the first time she'd ever seemed as aggressive as she did then. In fact, it was the first time she'd shown any emotion on or near the love-bed.

Well, actually, she tried to cross her arms across her chest -- which was impossible, overlaid as her chest was with breasts of her dimensions. Crossing her arms all the way across her breasts would require much longer arms than hers. Like I said, she was petite.

I must digress! Her breasts were heavy and perfectly round, like I said -- and yet the flesh of those breasts was so perfectly firm, there was zero sag. So there they stood, those two immense globes, magically pressed firmly to her body by an invisible strapless bra --broad, strong, and tight. So heavy, yet so seemingly weightless, held up by nothing!

Yes, Leah's breast-flesh began pretty much at her collarbone; each breast would rise up from there in a perfectly smooth half-globe to the nipple -- and then down in a perfectly smooth half-globe to somewhere way, way, below her shoulders.

So well, I lay there, waiting to hear what she had to say, but with my attention wandering to my dear wife's magnificent breasts. She, meanwhile, gave up trying to stand with crossed arms, having feebly attempted to stretch out her arms...

But I digress again. The point is, if you remember, she had withdrawn her mouth after her full-body orgasm from tasting a little stream of my pre-seminal juice; I now felt the next stream building up inside my scrotum, allowed my cock to pulsate a little, saw it heave up and fall back down, a stream of thicker pre-ejaculatory love juice now lining the length of my penis. My head downward, I slyly glanced up to look at her reaction.

Oh yeah. She had begun to stare the way she always would. Tearing her gaze away, she managed a reasonably firm "Don't DO that! You know it attrac... I mean, distracts me!"

Emotion in her speech near our love-bed for the first time ever, I thought again

And then it was she continued:

"So you think I'm a cumslut? Do you even know what the word means? Do you even know why sex happens? I mean, why a man and a woman have intercourse?"

I forgot to mention Leah had a major in biochemistry.

"They 'fuck,' you idiot, so that semen is transferred from the man's balls to the woman. Somewhere inside the woman."

I noticed very well she said "balls" in a maddeningly sexy way, though I can't say why she did. It sounded a lot like "B-a-LLLzz." Lingering on the "L" sound, her tongue almost sticking out of her mouth, wetly caressing her upper lip as she produced it.

"Wait. Let me show you." She got back to the bed and cupped my BaLLLzz in one hand, lifting them up and down as though she were weighing them.

"Yeah. Those heavy... those... things."

How hard she was trying to stay angry rather than collapse in a heap, her face smothered over my maleness!

Tearing her hands away: "Yeah. What's inside those, that's what a woman wants from her man."

"And don't distract me again. Let me explain. She needs it inside her. So she can make a baby. But why does she like to lick... that?" She pointed at my now-slowly-growing penis. "Why does she like to suck that? Why does she like to..."

The poor woman couldn't help a sharp intake of breath before she continued:

"... to drink from it?"

Again, the way she said "drink," it sounded more like "D-rrr-ink-hh." Dwelling on the "R." Saliva gathering in her throat with the "K."

I didn't mean to make fun of her now; it just turned me on to hear her sex-emphasis on some of the words she said. And I couldn't help it: I imitated her.

"Drrrink-hh?"

"Yes. YES. Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink. I'll admit you've pampered me -- but I want you to listen, for fuck's sake!"

"Go on," I said in what sounded to my own ears a hollow tone. Problem was, I wanted to listen -- but the scent of my own pre-ejaculate, which had now spread into more of a little lake on the sheet rather than a puddle, was turning me on. The scent reminded me of the smell of her mouth. The smell of her saliva.

"She drinks it because it contains stuff called hormones... do you even know what hormones are?... Hormones that prepare her body for ovulation, if you know what that means. And if you don't, it ripens her body to make a baby. Yeah. That means it makes her sexier."

She took a long pause to (it seemed to me) gawk at my penis, now sprawled out like a heavy club between my thighs.

"And you know why she LLLicks his BaLLLzz? Hunnh? Huuunnh? Why she SSucKs on them? Why she... she... takes them in her MOU-Thhh?"

Lingering on the "th" sound now, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she produced it.

She gathered herself up again.

"She licks them and takes them in her mouth... she RRRubs her face on that baLL sac... because it makes him produce more ejaculate. More for her to... You know that, don't you, honey? Stimulated testicles produce more male ejaculate for the woman?

"AND. And. Male ejaculate regulates and enhances her libido. For you, that just means... she becomes more lusty after D-rrr-ink-hh - ing from it."

Haha. She was mocking my imitation of her!

"And being more lustful and having a stronger libido means she's in the mood for, umm, intercourse more of the time. She wants that... that..."

It was at this point, I think, that her will and her indignation broke. Just like that. She was now frankly staring at my penis, which is kind-of normal -- but she had begun to drool.

Hell yeah. Like I said, my wife was a true nymphomaniac: The mere sight of a long, fat penis always made her drool. Salivate.

Freely drooling from one side of her mouth, she managed to continue:

"AND yeah. Do you know why I suckle on it as often as I do? I mean, why I try to milk out your ejaculate every chance I get? It's because the more I do it, the more I... I... The more I consume from your body, the more your body makes. And the more your body makes, the more I get to... to...

Pulling a stream of drool back into her mouth:

"... the more I get to drink. There. I said it.

"So consuming her man's juice is as natural for a woman as wanting his... OH DON'T make me say it, you know what I mean... as wanting IT inside the bottom of her belly."

And now, in what was almost a whisper: "In our case... cleaving her abdomen in two. From between... unnh!... between her thighs."

"I'm a woman, honey. I need it pushed inside me, every day, every every every day -- and I also need to drink and drink and drink from it, every. Single. Day. Unnh!

"And that's as natural as it gets. But a woman... I mean, I... am NOT a slut. I'm a sensuous, semen-loving woman. Do you know why I'm not a slut? You know what a slut is, honey? Don't you? Well...

And finally, she was back to her lust-laden self. She clearly hadn't been able to express a tenth of the indignation she'd wanted to.

So now, coming closer to me, driving me crazy with the feminine scent from the jet black forest between her legs, and in a husky whisper:

"I'm not a slut, honey, because I don't want to drink down the juice from the balls of just any man.

"Unnh. It's natural... It's natural to love semen. It's natural to love to drink it from my man. It's not... not... natural to want it from... from any man. From many men. There are girls like that, honey. They're sluts. They're cumsluts.

"A man's love is in his semen, honey. A woman's love..."

Her mouth close to my ear now, the scent of her fresh saliva driving me crazy:

"A woman's love is in her acceptance of it. Her... LLLust for it. Her need to... to-you-know-what.

"Your love is here." She dragged a finger through the now-ocean of semi-thick ejaculate that had been leaking out of me over the past few minutes. Running it along her tongue, then gulping, then running the finger down the front of her neck, indicating her throat: "My. Love. Is. Here. You're my husband, honey. I'm a woman. I love your semen. I need it. I'm not a slut. I'm your wife. Your semen-loving wife. I love you, honey. I love you."

Leah was spent, drained, finished -- in more ways than one. Finally collapsing in a heap, her face flat on the leaked-out semen, licking it up, lapping at it, grinding her face on it, and finally looking up, choking back her tears:

"What a waste! Give me fresh juice."

Seconds later, there she lay, between my legs, half my penis in her mouth, licking it, sucking it, swirling her tongue around it, waiting for my love to arrive, waiting to... love me by "accepting" it.