Wetlands

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The same can be done, of course, with cum that ends up in the pussy. Just don’t wash it away with a bidet! Instead, carry it proudly. To school, for instance. Hours after sex it’ll ooze nice and warm out of your pussy—a little treat. I may be sitting in a classroom, but my thoughts are back where the cum came from: while the teacher is going on about philosophical attempts to prove the existence of God, I sit there smiling blissfully in my little puddle of sperm. The intermingling of bodily fluids between my legs always makes me happy, and I text the source: “Your warm cum is running out of me—thanks!”

My thoughts return to the bidet. I wanted to spend a few minutes reminiscing about the way I manage to fill myself up with the bidet. But there’s no time. We’ve arrived in the surgery prep room. I can continue that line of thought later. My anesthesiologist is already waiting for us. He attaches a bag of fluid to the IV tube in my arm, hangs it upside down from a rolling stand, and says I should start counting.

Robin, the friendly nurse, wishes me luck and leaves. One, two…