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In a futuristic society where the world population is diminishing, a rich husband and wife discuss having children.
“’In global news, human population continues its downward trend, as statistics show that now 75% of men and women in relationships are childless, more on this story now is our international reporting team…’”

The television chattered on in the background as my wife got to her knees in between my naked legs and licked my hard dick from base to glans, and used her lips to take me into her mouth. Her lips spread over my swollen head and sucked it in, more of my muscular member disappearing into her mouth and down her throat as I watched.

“Yeah, I like that,” I mumbled as her tongue scrubbed the bottom of my shift beneath the head. Her eyes lazily flashed up to meet mine as she switched up what she was doing, but always returning to what I liked, in a dance of oral methods with one goal in mind. She was constantly blowing my mind at how good she was at pleasuring me with her mouth, which after six years of marriage I would have thought it would have gotten old, but no, her attentiveness was gratifying still to this day.

My shift was slick with her spit as she popped me out of her mouth for a deep breath, slowly and methodically jerking me with her hand. Massaging my shift from the base outward, she squeezed out a large drop of pre-cum, which sat beaded on the tip of my cock until she slurped it off like she would a popsicle.

“Mmm that always tastes good,” my wife said, then sucked me back into her mouth, ravenously bouncing her head up and down my cock.

The slick pressures and busy tongue were too much for me, and with a series of groans I gave up my cum for her. She felt it coming and backed off just in time for my pearly fluid to spatter on her face, her mouth open as she tried to catch it on her tongue. I maintained my tense posture until the last of my load left me, then I fell back on the bed with a long sigh of release.

Up she climbed from before my softening dick, over my hip to lay beside me, using her fingers to gather what semen streaked her face, and suck it off of her fingers.

“’Yes John, we are indeed concerned about the next twenty to thirty years, since the population of the earth has dropped to below one billion, a substantial decrease from a mere five years ago. We encourage everyone who watches this to have children, despite the poor worldwide economy; there are government programs for which you may be eligible…’”

I found the remote and muted the TV Wall, and gazed out the expansive window to my left over my wife's shoulder at the cityscape. With a penthouse apartment in the richest city in the world, you could say I’ve done well for myself. Nowadays to be rich you had to trade in the circles that the rich traded in, which was the top of most any industry, and following that advice I found myself a billionaire quite quickly. A loving wife rounded my life out quite well, and despite the troubles of the world, I was content.

Now that I was thinking about my ideal life, in post-nut clarity, I wondered about the state of the world's population. Why was nobody having babies anymore?

I looked over at my wife as she scraped the last rope of my cum off of the side of her nose and popped it into her mouth with a smack, checking her hand to make sure she didn’t miss any.

“Leslie,” I asked in my moment of clarity before it faded, “would you ever want to have kids?”

She looked up at me with a pair of blinks. I could see the thoughts moving behind her beautiful blue eyes as she took my question seriously.

“I don’t know, I’d have to give up my night life,” she said with a smirk. I smiled back, knowing her levity was to spike the abrupt nature of my question; her job as a librarian meant she spent her nights either reading or researching for her hobbies. I supported her with my many businesses and assets, so she could indulge her interests all she wanted, even going as far as to contribute to historical research journals, to which she had gotten positive reviews and requests for more from her in this regard. I was proud of her, proud of the application of her intelligence. I couldn’t have asked for anything more, yet here I am asking for children from her. The fact that she wasn’t objecting with every reason why popular society says not to have kids is a testament to her devotion to me.

“Just think about it,” I said before she could respond in full, “I know it’s big. But I wanted to let you know of my interest, so take your time, okay?”

She kissed my jaw before laying back down next to me, “I will. Thank you, Richard.”

We fell asleep as the last rays of sunlight disappeared past the horizon.

Six days later was Friday, and I got home from my last meeting to find the lights turned low and ambient, with soft, suggestive music emanating from the direction of the bedroom. Dropping my briefcase and kicking off my expensive shoes, I strode through my house, stepping around the housekeeper Bot and touched each e-panel in each room, closing all of the windows that were still showing the world; no reason to show the entire city what we were about to do.

I saw my wife coming out of the bedroom to meet me as I entered the hall, and she looked absolutely stunning. Red and pink negligee barely covered her most intimate bits, while tracing elaborate fabric lines across her body in alluring patterns. She had done her hair in the most prolific ringlets, the light brown color catching ambient highlights from the atmospheric lights, hanging down over her breast. Her make-up, usually very minimal, was striking and dramatic, highlighting her eyes, but not appearing cartoonish. My dick was swelling in my pants as I came toward her.

“Let's do it,” she said firmly.

I knew that she knew what she suggested, that she reorient her life towards rearing our children for the next couple decades. Leslie was a smart woman, and after our talks over recent days, and her research to prepare herself to make this decision; never since I had known her to she attempt something half-assed. After it all, she still decided to have children from me.

I never loved her more than in that moment.

Actual intercourse was not a popular act in society today; there were so many ways to achieve orgasm in this day and age that nobody bothered actually putting a penis inside a vagina. Why risk pregnancy and venereal disease when you can get off using a dido, or a vibrator, or a pocket pussy?

Leslie and I had had sex twice, the night when she had taken my name Roe as he own, six years ago, and then again at our five-year anniversary. Both times we had used a condom and she had led up to the event with a regimen of birth control, and the day after she had taken a pill which would combat any potential pregnancy. Neither of us had ever been interested in having children, as it would interfere with our ambitions, but now that we had established ourselves in the world, it is a different story. Oral sex was another story, something we performed often, and we were both quite capable at getting each other off with our lips and tongue.

But this was different. This was penetration with biological intent.

She kissed me, pulling me down to her and grinding her body against me. Every motion of her body in my arms implied her lust. Somehow, during this make-out session, clothes were shed from both of our bodies until we were both naked in front of each other.

I groaned aloud at the sight of her breasts in front of me, in the current context. In the past I had always avoided getting turned on by her breasts, or any breasts for that matter, out of some vague idea that a woman's breasts were for feeding her infant, nothing more. Leslie had had the same ambiguous idea about herself, always keeping her breasts contained in a bra around the house as a matter of propriety. But now, for the first time ever, the erotic aspect of the pair of hanging sacs on her chest capped with pink nipples was impressed upon me fully.

I stepped close to her again and grasped her left breast in my right hand, feeling her shudder and fold against me with a whine as her similar preconceptions were suddenly and irrevocably banished. She looked up at me with as much aroused surprise in her facial features as I knew was conveyed in my own.

Just having her flesh in my hand was groundbreaking to both of us. She was pushing her chest out against the pressure of my hand against her, and pulled my other arm down so that she might grind her wet snatch against my fingers. Her breath against my chest was shaky and hot as I kneaded her breast and she worked her hips on my hand.

Indulging a curiosity, I gathered her hard pink nipple between my finger and thumb and rolled it, squeezing slightly. In mid-exhale, Leslie whimpered out a cry of pleasure and clapped her hand over mine on her breast, squeezed her eyes shut and vibrated stiffly against me, her hips trapping my other hand against my thigh. Little machine-gun squeals snuck from her throat as her orgasm consumed her, and I felt her body slowly relaxing as her breathing became regular again.

“You okay?” I asked rhetorically, to which she nodded her head against my chest.

She pulled back from me unsteadily, a half smile gracing her mouth and eyes.

“What have we gotten ourselves into,” she said, equally rhetorically.

“Let's find out,” I said.

We proceeded to the bed, and Leslie turned on her back, pulling her legs apart to expose her sopping wet crotch, open and waiting for me. I gulped for breath, the intensity of the experience threatening to overwhelm me as I knee-walked into position, my dick bouncing around between my legs.

Leslie got her elbows beneath her and leaned up to look between my eyes and my dick now laying on her drooling folds, her breasts laying plump and healthy on her ribs, rising and falling with her anticipatory breaths.

Seeing her beneath me, expectant, brought me back to the now, and I angled my hips to line up my cock with her entrance. It had been more than a year since I had attempted this, but I remembered how to put myself in as though it were instinct; her flesh gave way to me as I found her entrance and used her copious lubricant to push inside.

Her high tones tinged her breath. A glance showed me that she was frowning and gritting her teeth. Her nails dug into the skin of my arms. Her body opened up to me as I sank as deep as I could into her waiting sheath, feeling the end of her tunnel with the end of my cock, something I had never felt before. The feeling of my flesh being engulfed by hers, with no latex guard between us, with no chemical shield between her fertility and my potency, was a heady feeling, chasing all other considerations but what was between my body and hers out of my mind.

I knew what I needed to do, so, with my hands firmly planted to either side of her, I began to use my penis like a piston, pushing into her and using the bounce of the bed to slide back, only to slide right back in up to the hilt. I felt her pushing her hips up to meet every thrust of mine, her very body language working to coax forth my seed.

I saw her face in front of me, intense and intent, her expression flickering with every thrust of my cock, her eyes bright and expressive, made more so by the subtle augments of her makeup. I leaned down to kiss her, to which she leaned up to meet me, exchanging a passionate kiss for who knows how long; the motions of our lips and tongue and jaws matching the rhythm of our sexual organs’ collusion.

I drew back finally to focus on fucking her, but when I saw her breasts jostling with our movement, her nipples riding atop roiling hills of tissue, the levies inside me all broke down at once.

“it's- I’m gonna-" was all I could say with any manner of comprehension before the pleasure overtook me. My hips moved spasmodically as my fluids mixed and rushed, and my wife lifted her legs to either side of my thrashing trunk. The groans were torn from my chest as I blasted her insides.

“Richaaaarrdd!!” she screamed in ecstasy as I bent over her prone form, prodding deep with my throbbing dick, liquid explosions setting off inside of her fertile seeded, her arms and legs snaking around my sweaty form to clasp me as close to her as possible as I inseminated her.

I finally let out my held breath and collapsed atop her, her breasts smashing against my chest, and her heels digging into the small of my back, keeping my still pulsating penetrator lodged inside her. She alternated catching her breath with sweet gentle kisses on my ear and cheek and jaw, instinctive spasms still wracking my body as she held me tightly to her.

Turns out, performing sex acts with someone you love with the end goal of actually reproducing is a more primal and visceral feeling than anything else we had ever attempted.

We fell asleep like that, our pleasure and biological fulfillment whisking us off to dreamland before we could come back to ourselves.

The next morning found us in much the same position, having slept soundly and content. I woke to see the sleeping face of my wife, still wearing the make-up from the previous night. I smiled at the memory, an element of me aware of taboo nature of actual penetrative sex in this day and age, but most of me uncaring and happy that we had done it. If not a husband and wife, who would more appropriately have unprotected, real-life, un-virtual, reproductive, heterosexual sex? I had no regrets.

I brushed the hair from her cheek to better admire her beauty, to which she shifted, and her eyes popped open and blinked tiredly. I was taken aback by how striking her expression was as she looked at me from so close, every shift of her gaze highlighted and every blink magnanimous because of the on-point makeup.

“We should do this more often,” I said breathlessly. She smiled before kissing me, quietly and softly, which I returned as lovingly.

“I’m ready,” she said, pushing one of her legs underneath mine to bring our crotches closer together. My chest bloomed with potency as she submitted to me, our bodies still wearing the aftermath of last night. I prodded with my hardening dick, feeling her pussy become wet once again.

We made slow, sweet love to one another that morning for the better part of an hour, each of us climaxing twice more before we simply couldn’t perform for one another any longer. So, unable to physically satisfy one another any longer, we gave up and decided to finally start our day, letting the housekeeping Bot clean up the mess we left behind.

Needless to say, things were slightly different in the Roe household after that, we had discovered something all but buried by popular society, something formerly hidden that we had exposed, and I was surprised and resentful as how something as basic as this could have been socially suppressed and made taboo. Over the next few months we were intimate and exploratory, trying different positions and experimenting with different toys, reveling in a facet of marriage formerly unknown to us.

From that day forward, one fundamental thing changed: both of us were intent on having my seed left in her seeded by the end of our sessions. It as much or more than anything else bound us together in intangible ways, cementing our relationship with each other as much as any words and action of devotion had. It was a promise of the future being as close-knit as possible, devoted to one another for eternity. Such symbolism being attached to such a basic act just fell out of our explorations, evident to us both and finally verbally expressed.

That year was like a second marriage to both of us.

And it would only get better.
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