C4 antho - Chamber Four

Seven Little Stories About Sex ~61~
at first, no dead sperm, no souls chasing him through eternity.
But gradually they came, every night, day after day, his
seminal volume growing as he developed. Soon he was spurting,
had to bring a towel to bed to clean up as inconspicuously
as possible, the millions of sperm rising to the top,
following each other up and out, like lemmings diving off a
cliff. Now he was in high school, was jerking off a couple of
times a day, each couple spurts adding to the vat of sperm
waiting for him in the afterlife. He tried to fix this image in
his mind: a huge cauldron, like the ones used in Disney cartoons,
a witch’s brew where flames licked the sides and him
roasting in there like a boiled cabbage. His penis wasn’t limp
anymore but slightly engorged. He thought of the heat, searing
heat, and his face melting like wax. His penis grew
harder. The vat of semen was on fire, the flames engulfing,
charring his face, and he smelled burning flesh. He was hard
as a steel rod now and slowly, in spite of himself, his hand
started to pump, yanking Yoda from his grave as the vat and
all its contents went white hot and he felt himself, just for an
instant, lifted away.
* * * *
At college, late at night, the boy and his girl made lazy
figure-eights down landscaped medians on the way to the
cathedral at the center of town. They were barely eighteen,
under-aged drinkers nursing their buzz with rum and Cokes.
The cathedral was near the top of a hill and the boy led her
around behind. He had a Navajo blanket and she wore a
spaghetti-strapped top and a pair of khaki shorts that barely
covered her buttocks. Behind the cathedral was a park with
grass and a spectacular view and it was three o’clock in the
morning and they had been talking about how they could