TSIFOL 28 Copulins and Karezza Sex

TSIFOL 28 Copulins and Karezza Sex TSIFOL 28 Copulins and Karezza Sex

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Greg and Karen discover the effect of copulins and Karen ends up downloading all her sexual fantasies on Greg


Greg and Karen discover the effect of copulins and Karen ends up downloading all her sexual fantasies on Greg


Submitted: February 16, 2014

A A A | A A A


Submitted: February 16, 2014



On the nights Greg stayed over, we usually ate with my family and, as families do, tended to just watch TV afterwards if we didn’t go for a walk on the beach – and let’s face it, my family quickly became fairly sus about the walks on the beach; not that it really mattered except for the teasing I copped from my brothers the next day.

Being the summer holidays, the viewing was pretty limited. However, the ABC was running a series on the science of sexual attraction. I’m keen on science shows at the best of times; watching a show on sexual attraction with Greg sitting next to me was fantastic. Watching it with my family and Greg all there was probably risky if not fraught with danger. You were never sure when a topic might come up that hit a little too close to home and prompted a discussion among my family that could give rise to embarrassing questions.

The first two were about the effect of smell – you’re attracted to people whose smell tells you they have complimentary immune systems, although women on the pill need to be careful because it distorts the outcome – and appearance – you’re attracted to those who look a little like you or your family. So far all fairly familiar and pretty much what Greg and I had both read in Cleo. Who knew Cleo was a cutting edge science magazine.

The third one was about something we’d never heard about – copulins. This is stuff produced inside the vagina which has some pretty interesting effects. One of them is to permeate in to the air and be received by the male sensory/ smell organ in the same way as a pheromones.

The more interesting one occurs where the male penis is in the vagina but fairly stationary. To cut a long story short, here complementary non-lubricating fluids are produced by the female which do all of hold the penis in place, stimulates it to maximum erection, anesthetises it somewhat and open up the penile duct. With help from another complimentary fluid, the copulins then flood the interior of the penis right down into the gonads. From there they enter the bloodstream and go to the hypothalamus. If the guy comes too early, the copulins are effectively blasted out. So to really work the male orgasm has to be delayed by up to an hour or not occur at all in that session.

The scientist speculated the anaesthetic effect might even be intended to let the female impose herself on the male’s nocturnal erection while he slept; although personally I didn’t really see how she could get in to position without waking him – not that I wasn’t more than willing to give it a try. I thought it could just as easily be to delay orgasm.

Apart from giving the guy a general feeling of well-being, they (to describe it as the scientist did) “let the sensory input of the male be controlled” – by the female. While under this control males evidently shut out all other voices – including those of other females. The female who implanted the copulins can then change the guy’s memories - even make new ones up – insert ideas that will surface as his own ideas or behaviours later and even plant trigger words or actions that can resurface as thoughts, actions or sensations up to months later.

So, who would have thought? Not only is this sex thing a two way street fluid wise, but it can give the girl control over the guy (in more ways than just denying him more sex if she doesn’t get what she wants). What’s more, even when a guy fully understands the process and knows they have been manipulated – they are evidently happy with the outcome!

More seriously, I found it really interesting just how well nature planned this thing about producing children. You can think what you like about how natural monogamy is, but this surely must give some credence to it being something of a programmed behaviour. Maybe copulins also explain why so many people want to rave about karezza and tantric sex; even though they have their own hormonal explanation for why non-orgasmic sex is so great, copulins would seem to be complementary to the whole thing.

Of necessity the show had to be fairly explicit about the sexual process. Sitting next to Greg on the couch I had a hand on his upper thigh – as he also had one on mine. I could see Greg’s shorts tenting as he was aroused – either by the show or my hand or a combination of both. Since I was also experiencing a degree of arousal, I found it quite difficult not to be tempted to let my hands slide up the leg of his shorts; which had been lifted away from his skin by the tenting effect.

By the time we went to bed it would be fair to say we had the hots for each other. As by now you know a combination of a squeaky bed, thin walls and amble opportunity for sex during the day meant that the nights Greg and I shared a bed in my parent’s holiday cottage were not expected to be the time or place for hot and steamy sex itself – just lots of cuddles and touching.

Still, inspired by the show, we set ourselves the objective of the “one hour penetration”, or better still falling asleep joined. We’d done this a couple of times after a big night out – a late hour and more wine than we were accustomed to helping us along the way. Here we were stone sober and had nothing more than an active day to make us tied, but being the noble adventurous creatures we were, figured we’d give it a go.

Previously we’d just gone to sleep side by side; Greg suffering the “one too many elbows” problem of having to tuck an elbow under his body. This time he suggested I lie on top of him. I asked whether that might crush the breath out of him as he slept, but he assured me it wouldn’t So I positioned myself on top, introduced him into my body, and spreadeagled myself over him – legs outside his and my head on the pillow next to his shoulder; all of which reduced the weight his body actually carried. This actually was my favourite and most intimate post sex position with Greg and was one where I had actually fallen into a post-orgasmic sleep in the past.

After a brief period of good-night kissing, I put my head down next to his and let my body relax as he gently stroked my hair with one hand and warmed my bum cheek with the still presence of the other. I lay there in the sensual pleasure of his embrace, my body rising and falling gently with every breath he took. Like a baby being lulled to sleep in its mother’s arms the oblivion of sleep took me by surprise and captured me.

Somewhere in the darkness of the night I woke to semi consciousness as my body was tipped softly on its side back on the bed, Greg still penetrating me. Much later I woke to find we were now lying side by side, but no longer joined.

In the morning I woke to find Greg lying on his side facing me; his hand resting on my hip. As my eyes focused on his, his first whispered words to me were “I am Karen’s slave”

“Oh yea, right. How long were you inside me for?”

“The last time I woke and looked at the clock was an hour and a half. After that I don’t know”

“Well let’s test it. How about you get up and make me breakfast.”

“Yes mistress” With that he got out of bed and left the room, leaving me to my thoughts.

Which of itself proved nothing, since that was his usual routine when he stayed over at my family’s place. The problem, if that’s what you’d really call it, was that there wasn’t really anything about Greg I wanted to change. The show had suggested it was a way for women to discourage men from things like going out with their mates and drinking too much or generally just make them more thoughtful. Greg’s behaviour was almost flawless in that area. He had always been keen to adjust himself to my needs. It had always taken only the smallest sign of disapproval for Greg to change what few less than perfect habits he’d had when I meet him; something I’d tried to reciprocate.

But there was one thing I’d wanted to talk to him about. Until now I’d just lacked the courage – not because of any real fear of Greg’s reaction. It has just seemed too personal. Maybe this was my chance. Still, in this house full of my family in various states of waking up now was not the time or place. It would have to wait until later.

That later was after our morning sex session on the beach as we lay naked in each other’s arms. In a way Greg raised the topic first.

“OK Karen, now I am under your spell, what would you like to change about me.”

This wasn’t a good time for teasing, so I answered him straight. “Nothing. I think you are perfect – well near enough anyway. But I would like to be able to talk to you about something I haven’t been able to before because I’ve been too shy”

“What is it?”

Now I’d started there was no turning back. “I’d like you to make me feel taken in a sexual sort of way more often. I know you’re just trying to be thoughtful and considerate, but you’re always very tentative in your approach to me. You let me take the initiative, look for my approval or fall back on routine instead of letting your sexual urges rip on me. I think the only time you’ve really sexually ambushed me is the day you took me from behind when we were swimming our laps. And sometimes let your passion loose physically. Sometimes I want you to be less gentle. I know I’ve asked you to ‘go for it’ on occasions and you respond just as I want you too; well don’t be afraid to let yourself go without me asking. I want to feel your passion. I just want to feel as though you’re in control. I liked it when you tied me up. I liked feeling the passion it induced in you and how it made me subject to your control. Even at your most passionate you’ve never hurt me you know.”

Greg thought for a moment. “Do you mean like you took me on the beach that Sunday morning? If I’m normally timid in how I approach you it’s not because I’m not overcome by lust towards you. The fact is your mere presence leaves me so overwhelmed by lust I’m scared of getting it wrong or making you think our relationship is just about sex or of physically hurting you. I know I’ve admitted to you before that I’ve always been shy about instigating sexual contact. Because I love you so much and I care about our relationship so much that same fear of stuffing it up overpowers the comfort I otherwise feel with you.”

I kissed him. “I know. Just sometime let the lust rip – just like I did on the beach that day. There’s a couple of reasons it’s good for a girl to be able to feel taken by her lover. Maybe it’s a throwback to some Victorian attitude to sex, but sometimes a girl wants to feel she’s just the innocent party submitting to sex to satisfy her man rather than being the aggressor herself. And sometimes she just wants the man to make her feel uncontrollably desired. Lust isn’t always bad you know”

“Well, I’m more than happy to give it a go. In a way I should be overjoyed to have you ask me to; although it sounds very politically incorrect in this day and age. I would ask one thing. Can we have a ‘safe word’; something that lets you communicate to me that you know I’m just doing what you asked me too but that I’ve picked the wrong time or wrong way of doing it without me feeling you’re angry or irritated with me”

That sounded like a fair request. The brain has a tendency to freeze when faced with a simple task of coming up with a word like that. “What about ‘rattlesnake’”

“Why rattlesnake?”

“I don’t know. Probably because if it was ‘brown snake’ I might be referring to one crawling out of the bush towards us. It sort of just popped in to my head”

“Alright, since I’ve got you talking and I’m completely under your control, how else can I satisfy your fantasies?”

Fantasies! That’s a challenging word. Even before Greg I’d had my share of fantasies; some of which I’d actually managed to play out without him even knowing I was doing it. Greg was a good lover – he cared about my enjoyment of our sex and made sure I just about nearly always came – sometimes more often than him.

I usually didn’t really have any requests about him touching me ‘here’ or ‘like this’. He was really good at reading my body and giving it what it liked. But the adventures we’d been up to had pushed my inner most fantasies in a new direction. The fact was there were a couple I’d started to entertain myself with in the middle of those nights Greg wasn’t with me.

But opening up about them? Before I met Greg a few months ago, I didn’t even have someone I could talk to about the fact I felt somewhat randy. Things had moved so fast since then, I wasn’t sure I’d mentally adjusted to the prospect of talking about fantasies that went beyond mere sex and might even be viewed as a bit kinky. They don’t really teach you in school how to talk to your partner about these things; a major failing of our education system in my opinion. I had just a second to make the decision. It was probably the knowledge (or at least belief) he was under the influence of my copulins that let me lower my guard.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Yea, I promise”

Twice Greg had made love to me while I was tied up – once after one of our strip tennis matches and once after I’d lost the hog-tie wrestling match. Both times had blown my mind and left me wanting more; maybe it was an extension of being taken even if I had in a way instigated both episodes. “I’ve liked it when you’ve made love to me while I was tied up. I’d like more of that – not always, just as an occasional change in different ways and places”

Greg raised his eyebrows at me. “OK, they were pretty fun for me too. I’ll have to thinks of ways to do it; but the same rattlesnake rule applies. Anything else?”

I gulped. The last one was relying on precedent. The next one would be coming out of field left; but it had been an increasing source of desire for me. It had started after I had let Greg drag me limply across the bed and have sex with me on the morning we’d had the house to ourselves. Maybe it was another aspect of that desire to be taken. But as time progressed this one had become very specific. Being undressed and taken by him while I lay there limp as a sack of potatoes was a critical part of it. I didn’t like to think of it as a rape fantasy, because resistance, violence or the threat of it wasn’t part of it – except maybe in some playful sort of way to explain the unconsciousness. And it was only with Greg that I had these fantasies. They had nothing to do with any actual or imagined stranger.

“I like you to sometimes undress and take me while I’m pretending to be unconscious or asleep”

Greg had to process that thought for a moment. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but how do we set it up? How do I know that’s what I’m meant to do with you when it looks to me like you’re unconscious or asleep?”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows – if only as a way of hiding the embarrassment the next words to come out of me caused by making it sound like a challenge or a game. “Maybe it could be part of a role playing game – even involving dressing up” Oh god, now I’d done it. All my sordid inner thoughts had been laid on the table. On the one hand I wanted to pretend to be all innocent and have myself taken, on the other I was suggesting all sorts of kinky ways for him to take me. I was beginning to wonder just who the copulins were affecting.

Greg did a sort of double take, a broad grin spreading across his face.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh”

“I’m not; I’m thinking of all the fun we can have satisfying your requests. Do we both get a go at coming up with the roles to play? Are there any specific role plays you have in mind?”

“No, in terms of the role playing the fantasy‘s a bit vague, so we can both exercise some imagination on it. But what about you? Now I’ve exposed my soul to you, what is it you want?”

Greg went all serious on me for a second. “Karen, it’s no exaggeration to say just being with you, let alone making love with you, fulfils all my fantasies. But I think I’ve revealed to you before just how powerful an effect you have on me when you’re dressed nicely; and I admit, that means in something sexy. But personally I think you look sexy in everything you wear. You look sexy in your bikinis and stunning in just about everything you wear when you’re not on the beach.”

I was glad he’d said that, but the outcome hadn’t been entirely accidental. The bikinis I’d already known the power of. The other clothing was largely stuff I’d bought while on the holiday while Greg was helping me shopping. While he didn’t know that, since a major criteria for a purchase was whether it tented up his pants a little when I showed it too him in the shop, the result was predictable. But so were Greg’s tastes. Close fitting garments with low cut tops and high cut bottoms were nearly always winners.

“Would you just prefer it if I went around perpetually naked?

“Actually no. You look fantastic naked so don’t get me wrong. It’s just being teased by what you can’t quite see but might get a glimpse of is actually sexier than having it right in front of you, if that makes any sense. Anyhow, some perspectives are better with a bit of clothing. You don’t know how much I love trailing behind you when we’re swimming and watching your cute little bottom in its cute little bikini. I can barely resist you – as you know one day I couldn’t. I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that I’m not sure it’d actually be better if I was instead looking straight up your bum; but even just watching the strings of your bikini ties trailing teasingly along behind you, just inviting me to tug on them, is pretty magic.”

I had to think to myself that I also quite liked trailing along behind Greg. He has quite a cute bum too. Would I prefer to see it naked? Actually I might, but to each their own.

After a second’s silence. Greg added ...”' also it’s really sexy to be able to undress you out of those sexy clothes, so I really like the chance to do that as part of our foreplay”

I had to ask “What about all that stuff they seem to obsess about in porn movies? Does that rock your boat?”

“What makes you think I’d even know what you are talking about?” The innocent skyward focus of his eyes as he said that wasn’t entirely convincing. I just looked back at him with playfully accusatory eyes of my own. “OK, I’ve looked at one or two. But frankly I think most of the stuff is horrible. It completely lacks romance, is obsessed with oral and even anal sex, the sex positions look uncomfortable and unsatisfying, the so called money shot is boring and spoils everything and the woman always wears an expression that just looks put upon and never gets a chance to come.

So really, there’s nothing in them I want to copy. You know I like a little bit of oral by way of foreplay, but I understand you don’t like it that much, so it’s no big deal.”

“Aren’t you guys meant to like watching two girls getting it off or a three way?”

“Again, I’ve never really seen the point of watching girls get it off together except for the fact you see two girls get down and naked and it might be a bit more gentle and romantic than the hetro stuff; As for the three way it’s certainly not a fantasy of mine. I think I’d be too worried about one of the girls feeling left out to really enjoy it. I suspect to enjoy it you’d have to have this enormous ego that made you think two girls had nothing better to do than get their rocks off over your body without caring about your emotional response to them. Maybe rock stars can get away with it, but I’ve never thought of myself that way”

“Do you fantasise about being with other girls when we’re making love?”

“Oh yea, right! I’m actually going to come out and tell you while I’m getting it off with you I’m really pretending it’s one of half a dozen girls I’d really rather be with! I know all the sex writers say that’s what us men do, but it’s not true – or at least not true for me. My head might be just about ready to explode with the lust I feel these days, but I’m afraid it’s all completely and utterly directed at you; so you’re just going to have to put up with me. Karen, I have not the slightest interest in making love to any other girl, so I’m not going to enjoy it more by pretending there’s someone else with me

If I want to have the most mind blowing orgasm all I have to do is put my head down near your shoulder when I’m nearly ready to come and look down the length of your body. So many signals flood in to my brain that I’m making love to this most stunning female that I can almost feel my cock swell inside you before it just about explodes.”

Greg’s last sentence caused a moments silence as I absorbed what he said and he no doubt wondered if he said too much. But actually it had simply brought to mind another line of enquiry I’d been interested in. “You seem to like playing with my breasts when we’re lying on the beach together even if we’re not having sex. What is it that makes guys want to play with them like that?”

“I don’t really know. They’re all nice and soft and wobbly and unlike any other part of a body and the nipple reacts so well to being touched. I suppose it’s like their visual effect; it says ‘hay, I’ve got my hand on this really gorgeous woman and her body’s actually responding to my touch’. Why? Does it bother you?”

“No I like it, but how would you feel if I said I’d actually like to be able to play with your man part without it necessarily meaning I wanted sex?”

“I love you playing with my man part; but how do I know whether you’re just playing or wanting to start something?”

“What about if I just say ‘I’m just playing’ or something like that? But don’t you guys hate being teased and call girls who do that ‘prick teasers’?”

“That’s always been an expression I’ve hated and I’ve certainly never thought it of anyone – least of all you. I can hardly say I’m sexually frustrated can I? Truth is there’s a lot of pleasure just in the mere feeling of being really physically aroused. And even more pleasure in being played with – even if it leads nowhere – so play away any time you want if it’s not too public. If it bothers me or I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself I’ll very gently encourage you to stop; as I’d assume you’d do if playing with a part of your body bothered you. Anyhow I didn’t think that sort of stuff appealed to you girls in the same way it does to guys”

“Just shows you shouldn’t generalise about us doesn’t it” But Greg had hit a soft spot with that last comment. Most of the emotions, reactions and even dreams Greg had stirred up in me might not have been every girl’s reaction, but from what I could find on Google, at least they weren’t that out of the ordinary; just a little stronger than usual. The fixation with his male member seemed more out of the ordinary.

But it did hold a fascination for me. Partly it went back to that first day when I almost felt a sense of possessiveness about it. Now it had actually spent so much time inside me – a concept I still found mind blowing – that was only reinforced. But I also loved watching and feeling it grow. It part – as Greg had described for nipples – that might be from the affirmation provided by the fact it was responding to me; that I could induce this reaction in my male. But of course that is the difference between guys and girls. Unless a male has a gigantic ego, it does give him a bit of a buzz to get a girl to physically respond to him. Yet any moderately attractive girl knows it’s as easy as pie to get such a reaction out of a guy; even if she has not the slightest interest in doing so. So it shouldn’t be that special.

Still, having being given permission to play I did.

My favourite trick usually arose when we were lying in a T shape at our private spot on the beach; me with my head on Greg’s stomach; this was usually where he had a hand over my breast – usually stuck down my bikini top and playing with a nipple anyhow. I’d roll over and start tracing the outline his member made in his speedos. Almost immediately I’d be able to watch the outline expand and I’d keep retracing it as it did. Sometimes it’d expand horizontally up over his stomach and I’d run my fingers lightly up and down the top surface of the full erection; feeling every artery and undulation in its shape through the thin material of his speedos. At other times it would grow vertically because of the way it was captured in his swimmers – just as it did that first day. Then I’d capture it between my thumb and forefinger and slide them up and down; all the time peeking at the base of the shaft visible under the now lifted waist band of his speedos as if I was sneaking a look at something I’d never seen before.  

Then of course there were the times I now felt I could play with it while we shared a bed in my family’s holiday house – otherwise somewhat of a sex fee zone because of the thin walls, squeaky bed and intrusive older brothers. I quite liked wrapping my hand around it and feeling the hardness of it and the powerful surges I caused in it.

Mind you, one can’t just go playing with these things willy nilly without there being consequences sometimes. Before the holiday was out there’d been two times I’d caused him to come that way - once filling his swimwear and once in my bed – and the occasional time on the beach where ‘just playing’ turned into anything but. Still neither of us was complaining.

It was predictable that asking Greg about whether he minded me playing with his male part would cause him to ask… “what about you; do you like being played with ‘down there’ when it’s not intended to lead anywhere”

It was predictable, not because Greg was in the habit of doing that but because he was always looking to please me and he’d take my question as a possible hint of what he should be doing. Truth was I was generally just as happy for him to just keep playing with my breast. As for what I liked, as so often seemed to be the case, the answer was a lot more complex for me than what Greg had been able to offer for himself. I’m not even sure I knew what it was. I knew I had to be really careful how I answered the question, so I didn’t rush.

“First of all, when we’re having sex, you’re really good at touching me in a way I like, so nothing I say should change that. I don’t know if you’ve noticed I’ve got something of a bikini fetish, so I’ve always liked it when you brush the outside of them as part of foreplay”

“What does a bikini fetish mean?”

Once again I’d let my mouth get ahead of my brain in being open with Greg. “Fetish” was just asking for trouble. I was trying to tell how much I liked him playing with me through a bikini. Now I’d just opened up a whole new line of Karen weirdness in his mind. But what I’d found with Greg was that, having fallen into these traps, I was always better off explaining things to him; it nearly always resulted in him taking the stuff in and using it to my advantage.

“Haven’t you noticed how often I wear a bikini?”

“Have I ever. You look fantastic in them”

“Yes, well I like the fact you find me sexy in them. But I suppose now I have to admit they actually make me feel sexy – in the sense they actually make me feel a little bit aroused. When you play with me while I’m wearing a bikini it just about blows my mind”

“What sort of playing?”

“All sorts of playing; like when you brush the crutch or pubis area of my bikini or play with the hems and slide your fingers inside. It’s my favourite foreplay”

“What about your bikini top, does that have the same effect?”

“Yes, but not quite as powerfully; unless it’s one of the tops where I’ve cut the lining out, and I don’t often wear those to the beach”

“Why do you cut the lining out?”

“I like the feel of the lycra on my bare skin; especially the sensitive parts. It just feels really good and when you play with me when I’m wearing unlined tops its feels even better”

“Do you cut the lining out of bottoms too?”

“I’d like to, and I’ve got a pair or two which have just a minimalist bit of crutch lining and I admit an old pair I did fully cut it out of, but even though it feels really good I’m not sure it’s very hygienic to be wearing unlined lycra all day”

“You could just wear it when we’re fooling around and change out of it you know”

“That required me to tell you what a strange girlfriend you have and until I thought I had you under the spell of my copulins I wasn’t game to do that.”

“I don’t think it’s that strange. I must admit it feels really good when you arouse me while I’m wearing speedos – much better than ordinary underpants – and even better when you’re playing with me, so I understand what you’re talking about. Maybe I should cut the lining out of a pair of mine and see what it’s like”

“How did we get onto this topic?”

“You were telling me whether you like being played with without carnal intention.”

‘That’s right. Well I do like the feeling of being aroused even if that’s as far as it goes but I’m not sure I like it to go as far as deep slimy fingering if there’s no carnal intent. But if you just want something to play with, the breasts are a pretty good option too.”

No sooner had I said that than I wondered if I really meant that as the answer. I’d used ‘just playing’ to distinguish it from high intensity or penetrative sex. But for me a lot of pleasure in having sex came from Greg’s skilled fingering of me and other external ways he stimulated my clit. It was more of a spectrum than a black and white distinction. Come to think of it, I quite liked the thought of sometimes just lying back passively and having Greg finger me to a high state of arousal, even if it fell short of an orgasm. I just wasn’t sure how to describe all the range of possible responses.

In not modifying my answer I realised I had probably denied myself some future pleasures but figured there’d be opportunities to explore those shades of grey later on.

But what really struck me again as I reflected on the conversation later was just how much of my inner most self I’d spilled out. Without a BFF I’ve never really been able to reveal anything of myself to anyone; but the stuff I’d just revealed to Greg was the sort of stuff you wrap in layer after layer of protection. Sexual secrets that, while not offensive or a risk to anyone of themselves, sort of make you feel like a freak. I doubt it’s the sort of stuff you even share with a BFF except in the most ambiguous obtuse way.

You kind of guess everyone has their little kinkiness’s and while mine might be different, I would also guess they’re no more or less harmless than those of others. Still they make you feel peculiar and here I’ve just shared mine with the person more than anyone else in the world I don’t want to scare away.

I’m not sure what it is about Greg that makes me feel safe in spilling my guts out to him like that; because it’s not the first time I’d done it. I suppose it stems from the fact that from the first Greg had been willing to listen to what I said without judgement; and what’s more act on my comments. So by being open with him I’d increased my own pleasure without paying any price for it at all. What made me nervous was simply the fact that I’d always been led to believe guys weren’t willing to engage in that manner.

I did wonder whether there weren’t male equivalents of copulins that invaded the female body too – other than the obvious ones – because I just seemed to feel so comfortable about talking about it at the time. If anything was slightly disturbing it was that I seemed to have more complex intense fantasies than Greg; either that or I hadn’t really teased his out yet.

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