After I Got a Vasectomy, I Had to Ejaculate 20 Times. My Wife Made it Loads of Fun.
She made the twentieth shot especially fun.
After my wife, Lauren, and I decided to have only one child, she asked me to consider getting a vasectomy. It was 2011, and we’d been in the swinger lifestyle for two years, but we’d been polyamorous for close to 15 and had weathered a few pregnancy scares with girlfriends.
I balked at my then-38-year-old wife’s suggestion. She tried to convince me of all the benefits of shooting blanks. We could have sex anyway we wanted, without concern of pregnancy. Plus, she said, given our increasingly active (and wild) sex life with other couples and women, getting snipped eliminated the risk of me getting another woman pregnant.
She said she’d have to stay on birth control to keep herself from getting pregnant by other guys in the lifestyle, but she’d consider a tubal ligation to eliminate her own risk.
I finally agreed.
Immediately prior to the procedure, the doctor sat Lauren and me down for an “expectations” conversation. The snipping was a simple outpatient procedure she’d do in her office. After it was done, the doctor explained, I’d need to ejaculate at least 20 times before the sperm cleared my system. I’d then bring in a semen sample for testing. If the sample showed no sperm, that signaled the all-clear.
“By sample, I mean a full load of ejaculate,” the doctor said.
“We can make this fun,” Lauren quipped while looking at me.
Smiling, the doctor, an attractive female in her 40s, looked at my wife (who was there to drive me home) and encouraged her to do just that.
“You can absolutely play a role in the process, and it can be made enjoyable,” the doctor said with a wink and smile, adding that we should avoid unprotected vaginal intercourse until I got the all-clear and instead consider “the many other enjoyable options for inducing ejaculation.”
The vasectomy went off without a hitch.
Once the swelling went down and the pain subsided, I got to work. I either masturbated (which I always shared with Lauren) or, because my wife felt badly for me, got absolutely wild blowjobs. We tracked my progress toward the requisite 20 ejaculations, and they took exactly 16 days.
True to her word, Lauren made the process as fun as could be, swallowing load after load. I had to self-pleasure only two or three times.
For the all-important twentieth load, which would go in a specimen jar that my doctor provided to me, Lauren wanted to lend a hand. As she had just started her period (yeah, super unfortunate timing), I had expected to have to produce this one on my own.
Right as I was about to adjourn to our bedroom to self-pleasure, Lauren emphatically volunteered to assist. Actually, she said, “Let me give you a blowjob, darling.”
How could I say no to that?
As I sat on the edge of our bed, Lauren dutifully got on her knees between my legs. (She was fully clothed in her scrubs, as she was about to go into work.) With the specimen jar in one hand, she looked into my eyes as she held my throbbing cock with the other hand.
“I’ll make this fun for you, but we need to ensure you ejaculate into this jar and not in my mouth, OK?” she asked.
“Duh. Of course,” I replied playfully.
“In this and not my mouth,” she repeated in a motherly fashion as she showed me the jar.
Lauren immediately got to work sucking with furious passion, pumping my shaft back and forth with her free hand (she still had the jar in her other hand). I sat there totally relaxed as I watched my woman’s head bobbing back and forth with our eyes locked on each other.
This wasn’t the most adventurous blowjob she’d given. She had one goal: To get me to blow my load into the specimen jar while helping me enjoy the experience. In her defense, because she needed to get to work, she didn’t have a lot of time for anything other than a no-frills BJ. I was grateful for this act of love from her.
Finally, after no more than five or six minutes of her pleasure-giving, I felt my ejaculation quickly approaching — the super-pleasurable rush and that unmistakable pressure a man feels — and let her know I was about to cum.
Lauren released my dick from her mouth and jerked me off with the specimen jar positioned to capture my cum. She stimulated the top of my glans while she manually pleasured me, elevating the sexual pleasure I already felt.
Finally, I exploded into the plastic jar, unleashing spurt after spurt of semen as she cheered me on and ooh’d and ah’d the result of her efforts: a jar of warm, creamy man-juice with hopefully zero sperm in it.
“Very nice work, darling. That’s a good-sized load,” she said sweetly while showing me the jar. I admired the volume.
“That’s a big specimen for sure,” I said, proud of myself.
“I think you gave them more than they need,” she teased.
After placing the jar on our bedside table, Lauren milked a few more drops of cum from me by repeatedly pulling up on my shaft. Then, she took me back into her mouth.
Ah, when your woman milks you in her mouth.
She again admired the cum-filled jar, then covered it with the lid and put it in the bag the nurse had given me.
“Don’t let anything happen to this!” she commanded.
I immediately took the specimen to the doctor’s office, handing the bag to an attractive, young technician. Wearing latex gloves, she took the jar out, inspected it (without taking off the lid) and asked with a wink, “wasn’t too bad of a process, was it?”
“My wife made it fun — somehow I managed to get this sample into the jar,” I replied teasingly.
“You’re lucky,” she said. “Some of our clients have to do it all on their own, which doesn’t make sense to me.”
After she processed the sample, I headed to work.
Two days later, the news came: no sperm found.
After Lauren’s period cleared, we embarked on a sex-filled several weeks, frequently doing quickies before work and long sessions on the weekend, including with our then-girlfriend and other couples.
Getting a vasectomy was the best decision I’ve ever made!
And, by the way, a year later, Lauren got her tubes tied.
