Spent a rather illuminating evening with my physician, discussing the precise mechanics of ovulation. The female body is such a marvel of predictable engineering. While he spoke of cycles and fertile windows, my mind was quite occupied with the practical application. I find the notion of 'optimal timing' rather banal—my approach is far more direct. When I decide it is time, I simply have my breeding stock brought to my chambers. There is a certain raw efficiency in the act itself: the spreading of my legs, the guiding of his cock into my waiting cunt, the rhythmic clenching of my internal muscles to milk him dry. The science is irrelevant; the result is inevitable. A man’s seed belongs in my womb, not as a matter of chance, but as a matter of fact. I have scheduled the next deposit for Thursday morning.