“George, would you please, if you don’t mind -- it’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

“Not even six weeks, I’m sure...”

“Well, even so, would you be willing...”

George sighed. Compromise, he thought. Marriage was all about compromise. He thought of that especially tasty dinner night before last. “You have been nice to me...”

Lisa gave a big smile and dove down between George’s legs. She began licking and sucking his cock. It came to life. It felt good. This part always felt good. He could see and feel Lisa preparing herself for the other part, delicately rubbing her fingers right around the opening to her pussy, to make it wet and deep and hot. Lisa disengaged and presented herself, legs wide apart, fingers holding her pussy lips open.

“Please?” she said. “It means so much to me...”

George did his duty. He mounted his wife and slid his cock up inside her, noting her gasp of pleasure. And then he began the in and out. The plain old fucking. What nature intended. What in the old days used to be what men liked to do more than anything.

And it did feel good. The sensations felt good. He grunted and lay down on her, making her take all his weight, because he knew she liked that sometimes. He liked to make her happy, naturally. But there was the other part that was lurking, that he and all men knew when they were in this position. He could not finish. He could not climax, or ejaculate, or blow his load. He couldn’t do the part that’s what this was all about, from nature’s point of view -- delivering his sperm where it could make his partner pregnant. When he or any other man was in this position, their bodies simply would not cooperate.

Lisa started fingering herself a little while he thrust away, and seconds later she gasped with orgasm. A woman satisfied. He gave her a few seconds to enjoy the experience to the end, and then he withdrew.

“Thanks so much,” said Lisa lovingly.

“You’re welcome,” said George without enthusiasm. Sometimes he would lie in bed with her as she enjoyed her afterglow, but he didn’t feel like it this time. This time he went down the hall to his office and went back to surfing the web. Jerking off for relief was not an option. In the old days, that’s what men did when they couldn’t do it inside the girl as nature intended. More often than not back then it was because the girl wasn’t interested. Now the tables had turned, and the women were more interested than the men. There was no way he could come, with his hand, or in his wife’s mouth, or with some other woman, or even in a woman’s butt hole.

There was only one way he could ever climax.

Fifteen years earlier a crisis had rapidly spread across the globe. Men could not come. They could thrust endlessly in the pussies of the sexiest and most receptive women, but there would be no ejaculation. They could wank themselves for hours, but their fingers never got coated with sticky white semen. Women who were excellent at giving head could suck a cock for minutes at a time, or even hours, but nothing ever gushed into their mouths. Anal sex was no better.

This was the cause of enormous frustration for men, but only one short step behind that was an existential fear. If men couldn’t come, they couldn’t father any babies.

Any exceptions were of enormous interest, of course. Men and teen boys had been able to come inside the pussies of a few teen girls. It seemed that these girls were then very interested in getting it from other men or boys. If one man had been able to come inside them, every other man who tried could do so as well. Girls in exclusive relationships felt some tension with their male partners at their sudden urge for promiscuity. But within a few weeks, as almost all sexually mature males were feeling increasing frustration, the exclusivity had to give way. For a precious twelve hours or so, that girl’s pussy could provide satisfaction to every cock that nosed inside, and the girl was eager to take in as many as she could. After the twelve hours was up, her vagina became as frustrating a place to penetrate as any other.

A name was needed for what these girls became during these brief periods. The name that stuck was “golden nympho”. The “nympho” part has demeaning implications, but they are counterbalanced by that “golden”.

A few golden nymphos were going to do virtually nothing to assuage the boundless male frustration that was building.

As soon as the crisis had hit, frustrated men had been tempted to seek satisfaction in new places. If a man’s wife could not satisfy him, maybe some other man’s could? There was seduction, coercion, and a great deal of raw, indisputable rape. That was horrible, but also understandable. But the pattern became clear at once. A man could never achieve release in a woman of age 20 or above. Nor could he in any female under the age of 14. But now and then, with teen girls, he could. A 15-year-old virgin would be deeply distressed at being raped, but the physical act would be very compelling. She immediately acquired a lust that overcame distress, and wanted sex from just about any man or boy who was willing. She was a golden nympho. As frustration grew and old social conventions gave way, just about every man and boy was willing.

The pussies of teen girls became a resource of the greatest interest. It wasn’t like in the animals, where the female comes into heat and everyone can smell it. Here, the only way to detect it was when a man thrust inside of her and to his great surprise felt the immense pleasure and relief, along with ejaculation. A girl didn’t realize anything unusual was going on until that penis penetrated her, but once it did her sexual appetite grew to boundless proportions. A golden nympho wanted to get it a lot, and against a backdrop of great frustration, men were crazy with the desire to give it to her to achieve relief and satisfaction.

The evidence also showed clearly that a girl getting it from the same man, day after day, was unlikely to “go golden”. A variety of men was needed. Hundreds was best -- a new man every day.

What the totality of male sexuality wanted was to test every teen girl every day to find out if she could be made to go golden. Teen girls then, as ever before, thought this was a horrible violation of their autonomy, and so it was. Very few adult women have sex every day, and teen girls have far less. Comparatively few teen girls are sexually active at all, and most who are are quite selective about it -- A short-lived romance might involve a dozen acts of sexual intercourse, but then nothing for months or years. There might be a one-night stand now and then. A strange man every day? Outrageous!

You might think this was a setup for a classic war between the sexes, but there was one additional factor: babies.

Adult women realized that unless a fair amount of sperm was shooting out of men’s bodies, there could be no babies. The only way men could shoot it out was into golden nymphos, so species survival required that as many receptive teen girls go golden as possible. Female autonomy had to give way before the demands of continued human reproduction.

Getting the semen from the innards of golden nymphos into the fertile pussies of adult women was a separate problem, but it could be solved. But if the semen never came out of the men, there was no workaround.

Adult men and women had to impose upon teen girls, as compassionately as they could, a new requirement: the girl had to be willing to have sex just about every day from the ages of 14 to 19. She might go that entire time and never go golden. Or it might happen just once. The record was seven times over the course of those six years, but that was very rare. But every girl had to do her part.

“I really don’t want to,” said Kate to her mother, crying softly.

“I know you don’t, dear, but it’s your duty. It’s part of being a girl,” said her mother Anne.

“I know, I know, but I still hate it!” she said, her voice rising in sudden vehemence.

“They say when it happens, it’s the most fantastic feeling in the world.” Her mother had already been past her teen years fifteen years earlier so she had no personal experience.

“I know that, I know that ... But some girls go through their whole teen period and never go golden once.”

“It’s true ... But however you think about it, it’s something you’ve got to do.”

Kate looked down and sighed.

“For the first one, you can pick any one you choose.”

“Daddy, what about Daddy?” said Kate.

Her mother gulped and said, “If that’s what you really want, I’m sure Daddy would do his best.”

“I’m kidding, of course!” said Kate, frowning with disgust. She paused a moment, thinking. “Pete, what about Pete?” Pete was around 14 years old and really still pretty much looked like a little boy.

“Well...” began her mother. “I bet you’re kidding, right?”

“Yes!” said Kate with exasperation. She looked thoughtful a moment. “What about Bill?” Bill was a few years older and lived a few houses down the block.

“Bill would be fine.”

“What if he says no? That would be so embarrassing!”

“Part of being a girl is getting it when you turn 14, and part of being a big boy is giving it to any teen girl who wants it -- and being frustrated every time.”

“But I’m supposed to pick a few alternates too, just in case ... I know the drill.” Kate sighed loudly and then was silent for several seconds. “I’ve known the drill since I was six, or whatever. I just hate it, though!”

A girl could go golden on any day of her cycle except during her period. When she was especially likely was during her fertile phase.

Bill had said he was willing. On this bright morning in June, five days after she turned 14, the little paper Kate stuck in her vagina had that pink spot on it when she pulled it out. That meant she was in the right part of her cycle. It was a little tradition that sprung up in some places, that a girl should wait for a fertile day to do it the first time. She called Bill up and he said he’d be right over.

She was naturally anxious, and even felt a little nauseous. While she waited she rubbed herself between the legs to get ready. She’d tried vibrators, but didn’t think they were anything special. But some deft work with her fingers got her wet inside. She was too anxious to actually feel any pleasure, but her body was ready to get it. She lay naked under the sheet when her mother opened the door to let Bill in. She caught her mother’s loving, sympathetic smile just as she turned away and shut the door. That meant a lot to her.

Bill stripped quickly. “I know this isn’t your favorite thing, so let’s get right to it,” he said. “But take that sheet off all the way. I at least want to see all of you.”

Kate knew this was part of the deal too. Whatever made a girl go golden, letting the man see all of her and appreciate her sexuality was thought to be part of it.

“So sexy,” said Bill as he climbed up onto her into position.

She was glad he hadn’t called her beautiful, because no one being honest would say that. But as for sexy, well, she supposed most men found most women sexy, not just the few best ones. Nature had in mind that just about every woman would bear children if she could, and if men weren’t interested in the less appealing ones too, that wouldn’t work. That was in the old days, though, before everything went topsy-turvy. Now as then, men liked girls best in their teens and then less and less as they got older, so she had that going for her. So she was willing to agree with Bill’s judgment that she was sexy. Her thoughts turned from idle speculation back to the matter at hand.

Kate felt the blunt knob of Bill’s cock nosing around her pussy, the part on the outside, and the anxiety peaked. Then he pushed just a bit, and then pushed harder and then she felt it go in. Then more and more on each stroke. When it was in all the way, she relaxed a bit. That wasn’t so bad. She could see the concentration on Bill’s face and see his desire. A minute. They said a minute was enough to tell. But of course a guy wanted to finish, left over from the old days. Then, as through all past eons, if a guy didn’t finish he couldn’t father a baby. So his reflex was to keep going. But if he hadn’t won the lottery and turned his girl golden in the first minute, he wouldn’t come at all, and the longer he went before having to give up, the more frustrated he was when he did.

But just as Kate was debating whether to remind Bill that he’d been at it long enough, he sighed, pulled out, and sat heavily on the side of the bed. “I was honored you wanted me for your first one,” he said. “And it was great -- that is as far as it ever is.”

Kate’s anxiety vanished. She had done it! But looking at Bill, she understood in a new way what it was like for men. She’d always been told about the men being frustrated, but seeing it on a man’s face was more immediate.

“Well, thanks,” he said, looking at her with a smile. “Well, best be on my way. May all your guys be kind and considerate.”

The next day it was Nate. This time was nice too, but Nate actually swore, “Oh, fuck” as he pulled out. Realizing what he had said, he continued, “Sorry, nothing personal. You’re sexy, and I’m glad to have a chance, but...”

“I know, you’re frustrated,” said Kate, and reached out to give him a big hug before he rolled off of her.

The next guy was Carl, and it went much as it had before. But she paid more attention this time to how it felt to her. She had to admit that in some ways it felt good. Very good, come to think of it. More than before, she let herself experience that large male figure on top of her, straining and pumping, and thought more carefully about the sensation of that big thing inside her pussy. And then he pulled out, sighed and left. He didn’t say a word. There really wasn’t a whole lot that needed to be said.

But now that she was alone, she thought again about the experience, the cock sticking out of that big strong man and right up into her. She worked with her fingers, her excitement built rapidly, and then she came, a full, satisfying orgasm. She’d played around with herself when she was going through puberty. She’d gotten plenty of good feelings, and that release and satisfaction of a little orgasm a few times, but all that was nothing compared to this.

She had dreaded having to do it, and even now it seemed gross and demeaning. Like all of her female ancestors going back into antiquity, she cared about who she did it with, and she resented not having the choice. But the physical act itself, once that was happening, it felt fantastic. It felt good and right. Her body was meant for sex.

“Mom, do you think Bill would do it to me again?”

“I don’t know, but you must absolutely never ask him. If Bill asked you, you could accept. But this is frustrating enough for the men that we women have to be thankful without pestering them.”

“Oh, OK,” said Kate with a sigh. She kind of knew that already.

Her mom paused and looked Kate in the eye. “Maybe you’ve found something you kind of like, and don’t just 100% hate it?”

“Yeah,” said Kate, looking down. When she looked up, she smiled sheepishly and said, “Yeah, I do kind of like it. Part of me really likes it -- the other part still doesn’t.”

“If that first part comes out to play when you’re with a man, you’ll be happier.”

“Yeah, I figured out that much. And it does work pretty well.”

If a girl didn’t average at least one guy every third day there might eventually be consequences from the authorities, but most girls did more than that, and Kate took a man just about every day.

People discussed it online. Girls adjusted to the new routine of sex just about every day better than many people had feared. One reason was that everyone else was doing it too. The other was that the men ended up frustrated. If a guy did a girl in the old days, the pleasure he felt opened the possibility that he was just using her. That wasn’t true here. Fundamentally, the men were making a sacrifice for the good of humanity, just like the girls were. But while the men’s fate was sexual frustration, girls could enjoy each experience if they relaxed and let themselves. Some could enjoy it a whole lot. Kate was one of those.

George liked to have a go at the young ones sometimes. It was patriotic, and it was kind of like playing the lottery, he figured. The frustration that happened nearly every time was like the price of a ticket. He had benefited from the copulatory efforts of some other men who had hit the jackpot, so he would do his part too. Also, the sex drive in men is so strong that it sometimes wins out, even if a man knows that he will end up frustrated.

This was usually done in the early morning. If a girl was going to go golden, best to find out early while everyone could take advantage of twelve hours of daytime. The sun had just been rising when he knocked on the door to Melissa’s house and her mother let him in.

Melissa was on the heavy side, and her face was in no danger of launching a thousand ships, but she had a pussy between her legs. He penetrated that pussy with his stiff cock and he plunged in and then pistoned in and out. Hot, wet vagina, like they all were. He thought it had been a bit over a minute when he heard a beeping. Some girls set a timer. It made it kind of impersonal, but then the whole thing was rather impersonal. If a girl suggested it was time for a guy to pull out, it could be interpreted as making some comment on how he had performed. But a timer just measured time.

There was another girl who lived around the corner. What was her name? After he got dressed and left Melissa’s room, he checked his phone. Kate, that was her name. He could go poke Kate in the pussy. One more lottery ticket.

The bell rang, and Kate went to answer it. She didn’t need any help or support from her mother any more, because it was all so familiar by now. She wore a bathrobe.

“George, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. And you are Kate?”

“None other.”

She led him to her bedroom, and with one tug on the bathrobe tie, it fell to the floor and she was naked. She lay back with legs spread wide, ready to take it.

“Hi,” said George. “Here we go...”

“Yup, here we go.” She’d already had one man that morning, like she did just about every day. But that morning the little pink dot had appeared on the little paper as it slid out of her pussy, and so Kate was taking a second one, to better the chances. George was the second man. There would be at least one tomorrow, two if the pink dot appeared again. It was a familiar routine, and by now it was one she liked.

She had just turned 16. By the age of 19 a girl was past her prime and would never go golden. Two years down, three to go. If you got poked by a penis after that, the guy was doing you a favor. Best to enjoy the attention that a teen girl was due while it lasted.

George was gray at the temples, had a notable pot belly, and a quick glance revealed a penis that was kind of short and skinny, even though it was fully erect. That was nothing to comment on, of course. She felt it slide in.