Jamison's Sperm Bank Donation

Jeanne stepped into the break room to regroup and take a breath. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't even lunchtime. As a nurse's aide, she had been called from appointment to appointment all morning long.

The sperm bank where she worked was running a promotion, offering a $50 bonus for every donation.

"You're going to do it anyway," said their ad, which had been running on local radio. "Might as well do it for money."

It had worked wonders, and the bank was overrun by men looking to collect for a few minutes of work that was really more like pleasure for them.

Jeanne blushed her blonde hair out of her face and took a sip of coffee. Then it was back to the next appointment. She grabbed a kit and headed into the next patient room.

She checked her clipboard then said, "Hello, Jamison, welcome to the donation center." She began to take the sample cup out of the kit, then stopped short. Sitting on the examination table was a handsome young black man. He smiled at her, self-consciously, but that wasn't what she noticed first. Instead, she saw his arms. His right was in a full-length cast, from above his elbow to the hand. His left was in a sling.

She stopped talking mid-sentence.

"I fell off my bike," Jamison explained. "Broke my arm and dislocated the other elbow."

"Oh my gosh," Jeanne said. "I'm so sorry. Are you going to be able to ..." she looked down at the sample cup in her hand.

"I don't ... know," he said, hesitatingly. "I mean, I tried ... you know, at home. And the motion really hurt my elbow." He gestured at the arm in the sling. "But I didn't want to give up the appointment. I really need the 50 bucks."

"Well, I'm not sure how ..." Jeanne began.

"I thought maybe you had a machine? Or something?"

Jeanne laughed with surprise. "Like a cow milker or something? No. Nothing like that. It needs to be done ... manually."

"Well, I don't know what to do," he said.

"I guess you'll have to come back when your arm feels a little better," she said.

Disappointment crossed his face. "I really need the money," he said. "Especially because I can't work with my arms like this, so the cash will really come in handy."

"Do you have a ... partner ... you could bring with you to help?" she asked.

"I mean, I've got plenty of partners," he said, and Jeanne felt herself blush a little. "But no one I'd want knowing that I'm doing this for money."

The two looked at each other in silence for a minute.

"There's no one here who could ..."

She shook her head. "We're not allowed to even be in the room," she said.

"So, what can I do," he said, concern masking his face.

She shrugged helplessly. "I mean, if you really can't do it yourself, you'll need to come back with a part..."

"You could be my partner," he blurted. "I could take you to dinner later on. That way we'd be partners who are dating. Going on a date anyway. You'd just happen to work here too."

When he saw her react with a start and begin shaking her head, he quickly added, "I mean, aren't nurses supposed to be able to ... y'know ... see patients naked and stuff and not react?"

Jeanne let out her breath. He was right. She wanted to be a nurse, and that meant being detatched and clinical in certain situations. Perhaps she could help him out. She glanced at his lap. He was wearing sweat pants, probably because they were easy for him to pull on in his condition. She could see a bulge there, extended down his right leg. She'd always wondered if it was true what they said about black guys. At least she might be able to find out ... in a clinical way, of course.

"Please," he added, looking desperate, with wide, soulful eyes. "I really need this money."

Jeanne walked to the sink and briskly washed her hands. She then pulled a pair of rubber gloves from the box next to the sink and slipped them on. She turned to him and placed her hands on his hips, ready to help him remove his sweats. "Okay," she said, "but you need to hold stil..."

He squirmed away from her and she looked up at him with frustration.

"I'm not ready," he said.

"It's okay," she said. "It'll be fine. I just need to..."

"No," Jamison said. "I mean I'm not ... READY. I'm a little nervous and ... things aren't aroused yet."

"Oh," she said, biting her lip. "That's okay. We can help with that. We have a selection of videos you can watch." She took the remote and turned on the monitor in the room. "Do you have a preference?"

"Um ...." Jamison stammered. "Interracial? Like white girl and black cock?"

She glanced over at him.

"Sorry," he said.

"No. It's okay. We've got... here we go." She pressed a button on the remote and the video started. She looked at the monitor along with him. She was never in the room when this was going on, so it was all new to her. On the screen, a white girl was helping a black man out of his pants. What they said about black guys was certainly true about the actor in the film. The girl on screen marveled at the size of his cock, as did Jeanne. The girl on the video held her forearm up next to it to show that they were almost the same size.

The girl began sucking the black cock as Jamison and Jeanne watched. She glanced over at his lap to see if anything had ...developed there yet. He caught her looking and they made eye contact. He gave a knowing smile.

On screen, the girl was having sex with the black man in a variety of positions, moaning and screaming for more. Jeanne felt her face getting hot. On screen, the man was pulling the girl's hair as he entered her from behind.

Jeanne looked over at Jamison again. She reached over and put her hand on the bulge going down his right leg. "How are we doing?" she asked as the rubber glove made a crinkling sound. It felt enormous under the sweat pant material. She felt her breath catch.

"Not yet," he said, a little dejected. "Like I said, this is kind of awkward."

Jeanne sighed again. She pressed pause on the video. On screen, the girl was giving the black man head. She looked up at him, doe-eyed and lovingly as he face fucked her.

Jeanne stood and stepped in front of Jamison. She reached up the back of her scrub top, her rubber gloves again making crinkling sounds, and unclasped her bra. She pulled it out the bottom of her shirt and dangled it in Jamison's face. She then slowly dragged it down his chest and crotch before letting it drop to the floor.

Jeanne leaned forward, looking up with a sly smile at Jamison as he took in the sight of her milky white tits, dangling in full view down the top of her loose scrub top. She pressed them against his crotch, feeling the bulge between her breasts. She slip them up his chest and in front of his face. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth in the cleavage that was visible in the low neck of her top, licking and kissing wildly. She rocked back and forth, juggling her tits against his face.

Jeanne pulled away from him and grabbed the bulge in his pants again. It might have been a little stiffer, and larger, but it certainly wasn't standing up. She let go, a little reluctantly and stood before him again.

She slowly pulled her scrub top off over her head and stood, naked from the waist up. Jamison stared, wide-eyed, at her large white breasts, pointing toward him. She stepped forward and smiled at the way he watched them bounce. She leaned forward and dangled them in front of his face. They hit him on each cheek as she slowly rocked back and forth and his thrust his head forward, burying his face between them. She grabbed the back of his head and pressed him against her, squeezing her tits around him with her arms. She could smell coconut--either his shampoo or skin lotion--as well as a more manly scent that was his natural body odor. She released him and he went back and forth, hungrily sucking each nipple.

She slid her tits down his chest, feeling his bulge, much larger now, pressing against her stomach as she did. She slid them back and forth across his torso, then leaned far to one side, dangling her tits along his arm in a cast. At last, she reached his hand, immobilized at the end of the cast. She leaned forward as he pawed at her tits with his fingers. Then she slid to his opposite side, dangling them over the arm in a sling. That hand had more range of motion and he was able to grab one of her breasts in his hand, squeezing it and caressing.

At last, she slid down and pressed her tits against his crotch. His cock was now at attention, creating a large tent in his sweats. She squeezed her tits tight around it and rocked them back and forth, then bounced them up and down.

Heart pounding in her chest and face flushed with desire, she stood again. Detached and clinical were both long gone, but she decided she'd come this far. Might as well do it right.

She turned her back to him and slowly slid down her scrub pants, revealing the thong she'd worn to work that day. She looked over her shoulder and saw him gaping at her white ass cheeks, inches from him.

She squatted into his lap and began to twerk slowly, grinding against him. She could feel him pressed against her, a massive rod that seemed as tall as her ass.

"How would that ever fit," she thought, then pushed it away.

She could feel its heat through the thin sweat pant material. She began rhythmically squeezing her cheeks shut against it, causing him to grunt. She bounced in his lap, and he grunted further.

She turned and faced him, still in his lap, tits pressed against his face. His cock pressed against her pussy, with just the pants and a thin scrap of fabric from her thong separating them. She slowly bucked her hips against him, then slid up and down, up and down, up and down.

Jeanne knew she needed to stop, or the sample would end up inside of her instead of in the cup. Part of her didn't care. All it would take was a quick motion of her hand to clear away the fabric covering her and the front of his pants. With the state they were both in, he would be inside her within one second. She tried to imagine what that would feel like and bounced against him harder. He was likely thinking something similar as he thrust upward, straining against his sweats.

Still, she was a nurse's aide on duty and had a job to finish.

She stood. Jamison was breathing heavily and staring at her, looking like he didn't care at all about the sample or the $50 if it meant finishing what had been started. Jeanne put one hand on each of his hips and slowly slid down his sweat pants and boxers. His cock popped out and bounced slightly from the motion.

It was even bigger and more majestic than she'd expected. It stood in front of him, tall, thick and black. She held her forearm up against it. It wasn't quite as big or thick around, but it was closer than she'd imagined a cock could be. Her head was inches from it. It was taller than her face. She lightly pressed her cheek against him as he moaned quietly. The coconut smell was fainter down here, but the manly musky odor was stronger and drove her wild.

Slowly, she slid off her rubber gloves--first one, then the other. This wasn't the time for clinical. She had to feel this thing for herself.

She cupped both hands around it near the tip, as if she was praying, then slid them down each side to the base. It took awhile to get there. Her fingers were able touch around it, but she had a handful for sure. It was hot to the touch and she thought she could feel the blood throbbing inside of it. She reached under and cupped his balls. They were also hot to the touch and had a heft to them. She squeezed gently, then caressed them.

Jamison arched his back, pushing his cock forward and upward, toward her. She ran her fingers up and down him. She stared at him as she placed her forefinger in her mouth and sucked gently. Then she pressed it against the tip of his cock and slid it downward, leaving a trail of moisture as he snapped his head back and forth, trying to cope with the sensation.

Then it was time to get her sample. She gripped him with both hands, one on top of the other, and began to jerk, slowly at first. She gradually picked up speed. Jamison moved his hips in time with her and the two found a rhythm, moving together as he got closer and closer.

She leaned forward, her tits pressing against his chest as she continued to jerk. She whispered in his ear, "That's it, baby. You're going to cum for me now. Give it to me. Let me see that big, black cock cum all over."

He began to lose his rhythm and she knew it was time. She reached for the sample cup with one hand and jerked even faster with the other.

He groaned and bucked his hips upward, hard.

The orgasm was just as powerful and impressive as the rest of him. The cock came alive in her hand, pulsing and twitching as it gushed forth. It was like holding onto a fire hose, except it was still rock hard. The first spurt filled the sample cup and spilled down the sides, over her fingers.

She set the cup on the table, quickly, knowing she had to move fast. She got her mouth over him just as the second spurt arrived. It hit her in the back of her throat, gagging her, but she was able to swallow it down. She then began to suck on him as the spurts continued to come. She cupped his balls, feeling them spasm in her hand as he came. She looked up at him with wide eyes, just like the girl in the video, and the next spurt was a big one, again hitting the back of her throat.

When he was finished, she released his balls but continued to suck, gently, for a few seconds. Then she took him out of her mouth and slowly licked him up and down, cleaning him off. She then licked her fingers, where the sample had spilled. Finally, she picked up the cup, ran her finger around the outside and then licked it again. Don't want to miss a drop.

He stared at her, breathless and spent.

"Wow," he said. "And I still get $50 too!"

She laughed as she put on her scrubs again, then put the cap and label on the sample cup. "Yes, you do. Best deal in town. You can pick that up from the receptionist on the way out. The same place where you filled out your paperwo..."

She stopped and faced him. "Hey! How did you fill out the ..."

Her mouth dropped open.

Jamison had slipped his arm out of the sling and was now slowly unsnapping the cast from his arm. He folded both and put them into his backpack, then threw the backpack over his shoulder.

Jeanne felt heat rise in her face. She opened her mouth to yell at him for playing her, but she didn't get the first syllable out.

"You..." she began.

"Still on for dinner, partner?" he asked. "What time should I pick you up."

Embarrassed and angry, she let out a sigh in frustration. She then noticed she could still taste and smell him on her breath.

He stood confidently, a slight smirk on his face. His sweat pants still tented outward with an impressive bulge she hadn't seen enough of yet.

She ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth and tasted the salty musk he had filled it with.

"I get off at seven," she said.