The semenary

by STrotman   

A twenty-eighth-century Marine on shore leave finds himself in a Semenary where cocks and masculinity are worshipped and semen is an elixir. 

I am on Proxima Centauri 4, an early colonial effort of the old EU on Earth called Europa Prime—with only a few days of shore leave before leaving on a lengthy deployment exploring coreward of Sol for a few years. I realize that I have neither plans nor ideas of things to experience to occupy these last few days. Lazing on the couch of the public cottage I’ve been staying at dirtside, I decide to Google “Things to do that are unique to Europa Prime.”

At the very top of the results is a Galactapedia article about a Semenary, whatever that is. Turns out to be a religious order dedicated to the worship of the penis, semen and masculinity as a concept. Thinking about the many times I’ve spent on my knees basically worshipping dudes’ cocks, I want to see it properly done and what that culture would look like.

I head to the nearest long-distance M-Lev station and board the next departing train that will take me to the station closest to their compound. Traversing a continent in a few hours, I collect the few personal effects I brought with me and head to the car rental center on the ground floor. My autonomous ride rolls up so I head outside going through one transparent set of sliding doors in air conditioned comfort when the second set opens admitting a hot, unbearably humid and very tropical atmosphere that literally overloads my senses for a bit and forces me to immediately begin to perspire from every pore in every location on my body all at once. Mercifully, the car is already nicely cooled off inside. So I polarize the windows and convert the seating to a bed configuration so I can take a nice, long nap while the car drives me to my destination a few hours hence.

Arriving at the entrance to the community, I once again leave climate control and am immediately smacked in the face by air that is as exotically fragrant as it is thick with humidity and a weird pungency that has to be the combination of thousands of forms of decaying biological matter. I both hate it due to the sensory assault and fucking love it because I think it’s the reason I feel so amazing—and horny as hell. Oh yes, several somebodies are gonna have Connor happily worshipping their cocks.

There is an extremely tall—I mean something like eight feet of height tall—deeply tanned man hovering at the gate that I assume to be my guide. Waving to him, I walk toward him, hungry eyes taking in his exquisite musculature neither bulky nor slim of form, he is a sexy mother fucker. All that beautiful flesh on display, his only nod to outdated concepts of public nudity being a rather short, extremely tight loincloth—like I can follow the clearly displayed contours of his cock and balls until, I’ll be damned, it continues to hang freely exposed for a bit.

He turns in greeting and I swear that thing swung round, smacking each knee at least once, before being restive. In heavily accented Conversational, “You must be Connor! Thank you for coming all this way to Allandra Semenary. You may call me Azule or any other name you feel makes you more comfortable—or hastens the time until I feel your lips stretched around my cock—and I am your Designated Provider for the length of your stay. Let us get you unpacked and refreshed before I present you before Juan, our living deity of masculinity.”

It is only a short stroll until arriving at what I assumed would be my own lodging. “Hey buddy, it looks like somebody has already been assigned this one. There are personal belongings everywhere,” I state reasonably. “You are correct, Connor. These modest rooms are my home, and you have been assigned to my care for the duration of your stay.”

“No problem,” I say, looking around and seeing one sleeping platform. “I only see one bed, though. Where will I be sleeping?”

Looking at me with no small amount of shock, my new friend replies, “Connor, I am your Designated Provider. Your health, happiness, satisfaction, and pleasure are all my priorities and responsibilities. Mine alone unless you would prefer otherwise. It was assumed you were aware that you would live here with me and sleep next to me—deeply in my arms—for as long as you choose to stay. Would you like that—to stay with me or would you prefer I locate you to private accommodations or perhaps group accommodations?”

My mind is thoroughly blown. “You won’t mind if I stay? If it’s any imposition I will not impose upon you.” Thinking back to the literature that I had read about the Semenary, I add, “Attend to my needs and desires? All of that stuff on the interweb was true? What else would you be attending to? And should I wish to worship your junk, would that be offensive to you?” Yes, I babble when nervous.

“Mind? If you stay? Quite the opposite of that, really. I have awaited your arrival both eagerly and excitedly. I could not wait to meet you. Thank you for asking, but may I assure you that I not only would love for you to worship my masculinity, but—sensing in you the need to be held, protected and cared for. I shall fill you to bursting with my affection and shall stretch your hole around the cock you shall worship. I would never demand but I would expect that you would rarely prefer a moment of the day where my manhood is not sunk deeply in the orifice of your choice. I will feed you, bathe you, listen to you, massage and spoil you in fondest return for your adoration and for you happily worshiping my manhood as long and as many times that your heart and libido would like. There is more, but those are surprises best left as pleasant surprises. I almost forgot, have noticed that you’ve been stroking my cock with your eyes since the first moment you saw me.”

He’s not wrong. Not even a little bit. “Cool! Umm … could I … would you like … may I … umm … worship you … uh … now?”

“You may not yet, as it so happens. You must first be presented to our living deity and drink until your belly is full of the Essence of the Apex. After doing so, you needn’t remove my manhood from your body unless you want to.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

“You would not prefer to relax, come to me and stand between my thighs and slowly remove my wrapping … and wander your hands all over my flaccid manhood?”

Always one to go for the prize by skipping the process, I catch myself and quite easily cede myself to his deeply sensual and masculine energy. “Azule, would you think less of me if i told you that I am 100% comfortable with submitting to you in every manner possible. That it would overjoy me to do so for you. I am normally not so—free—with my need to please a very masculine person. That requires a man who is extremely masculine and manly but also very kind, nurturing and affectionate. A man of impeccable character, ethics and kind without expecting kindness in kind. With you, it’s weird because I met you less than an hour ago, yet I trust you implicitly and your masculine energy is so powerful that it fills this room. You make me calm and content. which never happens. Not to mention that your body, for me, is the physical manifestation of all things beautiful and male. Hold up—did you say flaccid—as in not hard?”

“You have just made me very, very happy, Connor. Your comfort and ease are facilitated by my being an empath. An empath healer, touch empath and remote empath, in fact. It is my very heart and soul that brings you such emotional and psychological relief.” He adds, “And, yes, I assure you that I am quite flaccid. Please. Come stand between my thighs and allow me to provide you with a very relaxed tour of my intimate organs.”

He is sat at the edge of the bed, knees bent, back straight and feet flat on the floor. I notice that his legs are not bent for my admittance. It’s completely not necessary as the entire breadth of my body easily fits within the span of his crotch. I cannot help but stare at his terrifying yet absolutely beautiful penis now angling a lazy arch well toward the floor. I can sense the smile on his face when his big hand reaches and tosses my hair. I’ve reached the end of his skirt, that appendage of his now holding my package aloft while arching downward between my legs.

“Connor. Do you wish to remove my garment, or shall I help you? I grow impatient of feeling your soft, little hands upon me.”

Azule is more than two feet taller than myself, so I can’t envision me being able to remove his garment. “Azule, would you remove your garment for me? Slowly, if it pleases you.”

“I find that very pleasant. You must first—before me, between my legs, in supplication and the complete subservience you will always exhibit in my presence—remove all of your clothing. You’ll not be needing it until you depart.”

“Yes, Master,” I reply. Following my master’s instructions, I happily strip down until I am fully nude. Then I lower myself to my knees before him.

“Please, little one, I would like it very much should you watch as I undress. I want to observe your facial expressions.” I stare with bated breath as those quite large but dreamily articulate hands unbuckle the belt holding it all up then begins opening each button closing the front, slowly pulling each side apart revealing more of him. A huge swath of thick mounds of luxurious curls comes exposed. His pelvis undulates as four rounded masses, each big as my hand, make their presence known from under his pelvis.

Next revealed is the base of something as wide as his pelvis. The nicely browned and obviously pliant skin is lightly dusted with long, shiny curls of pubic hair. Another foot is exposed and the bases of not one, not two, but three cock shafts gently arch before tumbling toward his knees. I stare in awe at each of his holy trinity of divine masculinity. Down his fly goes revealing the tops of two, what I assume to be, ball sacks. Immense in proportion, I am sure that it would require both hands for me to cup each of them. Rounded masses the size of grapefruit fill out the sacks when I am surprised to see yet another pair of testicles hanging from him. The manhood that hangs from where a baseline human would present his penis the longest by several inches—well over a foot by my estimation—and thick as my wrist. The cock to my left is manageably thick, less thick than my wrist. Just under a foot of manhood is suspended from him lazily, twisting about its x-axis until I am presented with the side-view of his glans as it lazes within his plentiful foreskin.

His penis to my right is less massive than either of the other two. Still hefty, but not huge in the strictest sense. It’s as beautiful as either of his other cocks, the olive skin thick over several blood vessels. The tip of its head protrudes a bit out of his foreskin that is obviously pliant and luxuriant.

“You have done very well. Move forward on your knees, please. Very good, Connor. That’s my boy, I want your torso and abdomen pressed lightly against my manhood. Oh yes, there you are. Feel how warm my manly flesh is against your handsome little body.” He reaches out to me and uses only one huge hand to cup my head and gently but firmly lowers my head down and forward until firmly pressing my entire face into that incredibly, overwhelmingly musky, thick mound of pubic hair.

“Breathe me deeply into you. I want you to inhale my scent until such time as you taste the musk of a real man on your tongue. Good lad, your face looks to me as if it has finally arrived where it always needed being but never knew. Tell me how you love the scent of your Azule’s crotch.”

“God, you smell … absolutely incredible. Like a woodsy undertone complimented by powerful musk and something quite sweet … even spicy.”

“It pleases me that looking upon my body delights you so. I can feel your arousal burning within you and the comfort that I bring to your heart, mind, and—I pray fervently—to your soul eventually. Come, we must attend my master prior to any deepening of intimacy between us. My testicles throb with the desire to bury myself in you.”

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