Mr. Forsythe deliberated. “Yes, I do suppose that’s the best option. I had considered that that might be the case hence my request for you to remain naked. I need you to practise collecting the semen and getting it into a test tube and onto some glass slides. Now’s as good a time as any for you to try out your, um, technique. I thought it best you remain nude so as to avoid getting your clothes dirty in case of any accidents.”
“Oh, thanks for being so considerate, Mr. Forsythe,” Claire said gratefully. She felt pleased that she now understood what needed to be done and felt confident that, with her past experience, she would be able to do a good job. But then she had a vision of what Danny would say. “So I wouldn’t be actually, um, masturbating you as such?”
“Goodness no! Not at all that would be entirely wrong. This is just preparation for an experiment, much like gathering any other ingredients or materials.”
Claire felt reassured. This was just a part of her job, nothing more. “Oh, OK then. Er well shall I just um, take out your, um, your…”
“Penis?”
Claire blushed. “Yes. So shall I just take it out and do it now?”
“Yes, do go ahead. You’ll find test tubes and slides in the rack over there. Yes, that’s right. Now if you don’t mind slipping under the desk, I can go ahead with some marking that I have to get done today while you collect the, er, sample.”
Comforted by his dispassionate attitude, she grabbed a test tube and got onto her hands and knees before shuffling in front of him, under his desk.
Claire looked at Mr. Forsythe’s trouser crotch, which seemed to be enclosing a considerable bulge. Carefully she reached out and tentatively touched his zipper; he started slightly before relaxing. She took a breath, determined to do a good job, and unzipped him before sliding her hand into his fly. After a little awkward rummaging she pulled down his y-fronts slightly before grabbing hold of his cock and pulling it out.
Claire had never seen, let alone touched, a penis as old as Mr. Forsythe’s. It was a curious grey-pink colour, veined and wrinkled, of average size and semi-erect already; the hair above it was as silver as that on his head. It smelt strongly of urine.
She was pleased that he was already getting hard. She had been worried that, at his advanced age, he might not be able to get it up easily and that she would have to be more creative to complete her task but it looked like he was almost ready to go.
She began to toss him gently with her right hand; as she gained confidence and as his erection lengthened and firmed, she sped up, focused on making him ejaculate quickly and efficiently.
“Is that OK, Mr. Forsythe?” she asked, intent on making sure he was happy with her performance.
“Oh, yes, Claire. That’s really absolutely fine,” he replied from above the desk.
“Let me know when you’re getting close,” she said.
As Claire wanked him, she thought it was weird that, despite the fact that she had masturbated many men in the past, she had never done so when she couldn’t see a reaction to what she was doing. She imagined that Mr. Forsythe was hardly even noticing her efforts as he seemed to be silently caught up in his marking.
Twenty minutes later, Claire’s hands were tired. She had put the test tube down carefully and switched hands several times, amazed at Mr. Forsythe’s stamina. Perhaps it was his age that had either blessed or cursed him depending on how you looked at it.
She considered what to do. Whatever the situation, she was determined that she would not give up. He had given her a task to fulfil and she was resolute about completing it successfully. She decided to use her initiative.
“Mr. Forsythe, it’s taking longer than I thought. I’m going to try something a bit different to see if it helps,” she called up to him.
Trying to ignore the smell she leaned forward and gave the end of his cock a sticky kiss with her pink-lipsticked lips. She leant back as she heard some muffled cursing and a thump from above her.
“Are you OK, Mr. Forsythe?”
“Er, um, yes, don’t worry. Just made a mistake in my marking. Please continue. I think we’re almost there,” he replied unsteadily.
Shrugging, Claire took his glans in her mouth and slurped for a few seconds before spitting a foul mouthful of saliva into the wastepaper basket under the desk. She did this a couple more times before she was entirely satisfied that his cock was clean enough to work on properly. And then she began to suck.
Applying as much suction as possibly could, Claire slowly slid her pursed mouth up and down his ugly wrinkled dick, doing her best to ignore the smell. She pulled out his craggy grey scrotum and massaged his surprisingly plump full balls and wrapped her delicate hand around his shaft moving it up and down in time with her lips.
After some sustained diligence, she could taste a distinctive saltiness half-way up her tongue. She pulled back slightly. “Are you getting close, Mr. Forsythe?” she asked, recognising his pre-orgasmic exudations.
“Um, what? Oh, erm, no, not yet, my dear. Sorry, I was thinking about this exercise. Do continue, please,” he said in his polite tone.
Claire was puzzled but continued to bob and suck as intensely as she could.
She was on a down stroke, her mouth full of cock and her lips pressed against his wiry grey pubes, when he came. She could feel his thick warm jism squirting down her throat. She pulled up as quickly as she could but several more spurts spat across her tongue before she could pick up the test tube.
Absentmindedly she swallowed what was in her mouth and groaned in frustration as she managed to wipe barely a dribble off the end of his knob and into the tube.
“Oh, Mr. Forsythe, I’ve only got a little bit. I swallowed most of it accidentally,” she said. “I didn’t know whether I could spit it in or if it had to come directly from your penis.”
“You did the right thing in swallowing what was in your mouth. It’s crucial that it’s as, um, as fresh as possible and you must always gather it directly from source. It is I however who must say sorry to you, my dear. As you can imagine it’s been a long time since my sperm has been, um, harvested. Mrs. Forsythe and I have long stopped, um, engaging in such activities. I didn’t recognise the pre-ejaculatory feeling in time to warn you,” he said apologetically.