Sperm Donation

Chapter One

I was recently invited to participate in an unusual project ... well, unusual for a 60-year-old single widower such as myself. It became an incredible and unexpected sexual experience but I should relate the story in sequence. It began innocently enough when my brother-in-law (my late wife's brother) called me to suggest us meeting for coffee one morning.

"We don't see much of you at family gatherings these days, John," was Richard's opening remark as we sat down at a table with our coffees, "your absence has been noted and commented on."

"Oh ... well, err ... Rich, I'm not intentionally avoiding my in-laws, but since Carolyn passed, I've become a bit of a loner. Your sister was always the life of the party and I kind of tagged along. Without the love of my life around anymore, I tend to keep to myself. I catch up with a couple of old buddies and one or two workmates, and my kids of course, but they're both married now and starting families of their own."

"You're always welcome, John. It's not healthy to withdraw into your shell. Just because Carolyn's gone doesn't mean you don't have a connection with our big tribe. You are held in very high regard; you were always so good to Carolyn and you gave her a good life. Most of our family talk of you in glowing terms whenever we get together. We'd love to have you join us at one of our Sunday barbecues."

"Thank you, Rich, I'll make a point of coming along soon."

"Actually John, I wanted to mention that, but it's not the reason I wanted to catch up with you."

"Oh, so there is a purpose to us meeting?"

"Well, besides a chance to enjoy your company, yes, there is. I've had a strange request from one of my nieces. I am sure you'll remember Samantha ... beautiful girl, John ... in appearance and nature."

"Yes, in fact, I do, Richard, a great personality, very vibrant girl, as I recall."

"Yes, that's her. Well, you possibly know she's married now."

"I do, her wedding was the last family function Carolyn and I attended before she died."

"Oh, then I guess it's a special memory for you."

"But, besides that, I recall a couple of very interesting discussions with Samantha at family functions when she was much younger ... probably in her late teens. Quite a smart young woman and going places. How old would she be now, Richard?"

"Ha, ha, she's 28, John. As I was saying, Sam has made a strange request and it involves you. She called to ask if I still have contact with you. It seems that she and Michael are having a rough time in trying to start a family. He has a low sperm count, we're talking minimal, almost off the scale, just not up to the job. Sam has always had her heart set on having lots of kids, so naturally, she's upset about this situation. But, after overcoming the initial shock, and both of them going through a heap of medical appointments, she's been sorting out her options. It looks like a sperm donor is the best course to take ... and that's where you come in."

"Me? What, as a sperm donor? Really, why me? There must be hundreds, possibly thousands, of men she could ask before me. I don't get it, why would she want me? Surely they know men around their own age that could help out."

"She specifically doesn't want to ask any of their friends. She said she's trying to avoid embarrassment for Michael if any of his buddies were to find out he can't produce. I tell you, John, she seems to have really thought this through. She told me she has long admired you, for a start. But, not only you, she's a big fan of your two kids. She raved about what nice people they are, so kind and considerate of others. Her assumption is they got their good genes from you and Carolyn. She said she'd feel more comfortable for her sperm donor to be a responsible mature person, rather than any of the males she knows around her own age."

"Well, Richard, I am flattered that she would think of me, but, hell man, I'm 60 now. I don't know how good my sperm might be and whether I'd be any better than her Michael."

"John, for a start, you'll have to be better than Mike, He's shooting blanks, that's been medically confirmed, so he's never going to do the job. You have a big head start on him. Sam asked me to suss you out first, see if you're interested in helping them ... just an expression of interest at this stage. She understands you may need time to think about this, so she asked if you decide yes, could you go get a sperm count check and get back to her."

Wow, that's a lot to mull over. We moved onto other superfluous stuff about the goings on in his -- and my late wife's - large family and a morning coffee meet-up turned into lunch. We kept returning to the main topic for us meeting, that a niece of my wife's sister-in-law (Richard's wife) is asking me to donate my precious sperm to impregnate her so she can start a family. I wonder what her husband, Michael makes of all this. Sam is unrelated to me directly so incest isn't a factor ... she's not even a cousin several times removed.

At the end of what became a two-hour lunch, I'd reached a decision, perhaps aided by a few glasses of wine. I told him to inform Samantha that I am happy to proceed to the next step. So, the next day, I was at my doctor's office to supply a sample of sperm for her to send away to a lab for a sperm count analysis.

Yes, my regular GP is a woman and, once I'd explained the reason I was there, she simply handed me the requisite plastic cup and put me in a private room next to her surgery to produce my sample. I don't ask for this test every day, so surely, the least she could have done would be to assist me with the procedure but I guess she wasn't feeling in the mood to touch this patient's penis that day.

Chapter Two

My doctor called a few days later ... she sounded surprised as she conveyed the lab result that my sperm count is around 65 sperm per millilitre of semen, describing it as very positive for a 60-year-old male, adding "I hope you use it well, John."

I immediately called Richard to tell him the good news. While he is happy for me, and he suggests Sam will be ecstatic, he said that he now prefers to bow out of negotiations, so he gave me Sam's number.

I call her there and then, "Samantha, it's John Brabham here, you know, Carolyn's husband. Richard told me to call you directly about your request."

"Oh, John, yes! Silly me, I didn't immediately recognise your voice, but then I haven't spoken to you since my wedding. Oh, it's really nice to hear your voice. I hope you're well."'

Despite what she's gone through, she still sounds to be the bright and breezy, modern young woman that impressed me when we chatted at several family gatherings.

"Yes, I'm good, Sam. In fact, perhaps very good, it would seem. Richard explained what you wanted..."

"Yes, he called me after you and he had lunch. I'm so excited that you want to help me out."

Interesting that she said help me out, not help us out.

"Only too happy to do what I can, Samantha. I'm calling to tell you that I provided a sample, my doctor sent it to the lab and the result is back. My sperm count is 65 million per millilitre. They said that's good for a man my age."

"Good! Oh, John, I've become an expert on men's sperm counts since this drama started; I can assure you that 65 million is huge. Oh, that's so exciting, you can make it happen for me."

Again me.

It is great to hear her sound so excited. "So, Sam, if you still want to go ahead with using me and mine, what's the next step? Should I go somewhere to produce some sperm for you?"

"Not at this stage, John. I won't be ovulating again for a couple of weeks. That's the right time to conceive, but you've been married and fathered two kids, you know all about that. When I am close, we should meet up and talk about how we are going to get this done."

"Oh, ok!"

"What's wrong, John?"

"I ... err ... I thought I'd just have to turn up at some clinic and beat off into a plastic cup, like when I gave my sample to the doctor."

"Oh no, I don't want you doing it like that ... it's such a clinical and impersonal way to make a baby. I'm such a romantic ... I really want my first child to be conceived in a warmer and loving natural way, but let's talk about that when my ovulation day gets closer. Listen, I'm sorry to cut you short, but I'm at work and really busy. I have someone waiting for me so I need to go. I'll call you soon, ok?"

She is gone, leaving me curious as to how she sees the procedure progressing, if not by me attending a clinic and spraying my sperm into a cup. And what does, 'conceived in a warmer and loving natural way,' really mean?'

Two whole weeks pass before I hear from Sam again. In spite of my curiosity being piqued at the time, I've almost forgotten that she intends to contact me when she's due to ovulate. I figure that maybe she's changed her mind to use me, or perhaps Michael has put his foot down.

I get her call at 5.30 on a Friday evening while I am sitting in my kitchen, thinking about preparing something for dinner. "Hi John, Sam here, how are you?"

"Oh, Sam ... it's you ... err, yes, I'm good, really good. I'd nearly forgotten about helping you. I even thought that maybe you'd changed your mind."

"Oh, no! I'm as ready as the last time we spoke, excited that you agreed to help and that you scored so well. I've been on a high, waiting for the right day to come around. It's now, John, my cycle is entering the ovulation window. I'm guessing any hour and I'm fortunate that it's going to happen at the weekend so I don't need to take time off work. John, I'm so thrilled that you agreed to give me your sperm. I did intend that we talk again before this and I'm sorry to spring it on you at short notice. What I'm trying to say is that the time is now, tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, I hope you and ... err ... your sperm are free tonight, and tomorrow too. Oh, I've been counting the days since the start of my last period ... I'm sorry, I know I should have kept you in the loop. I've been monitoring my temperature every day. Other signs began yesterday ... I'm getting a clear discharge from my vagina, and my breasts ... oh my god, they're so tender ... and John ... oh, I'm embarrassed to say this to you. I mean, I don't know you all that well, but I am feeling so hot for sex. They're all signs that the time is right now to go for it ... so let's."

Wow, what's the expression? Too much information. What is she expecting from me? There may have been a clue in her previous call that she may have a different method. I assumed that being a sperm donor meant attending a fertility clinic somewhere, and their staff directing me to a small room where, with the aid of some pieces of semi-pornographic material, I would wank off into a cup again.

But from the way she's talking to me now on the phone, the signal I'm getting is that maybe her plan for my sperm donation is to have me fuck my contribution into her. Is she kidding me? I stand here in my kitchen in disbelief ... a 60-year-old widower whose cock hasn't been inside a woman's body since two weeks before my wife died ... and that's more than a year ago.

Am I reading her correctly? This beautiful 28-year-old woman wants for us to have actual real sex to create her first baby. From the very personal way she has just related the intimate things happening in her body, I think I now see her agenda and it is unorthodox, to say the least. However, my cock is twitching in my pants from hearing the dreamy way she said, 'I am feeling so hot for sex.'

But what if I'm misunderstanding her intent? I'll look a real idiot if she arrives with a plastic cup in hand and I open the door and take her straight to bed. I know this will sound naïve to her, but I need to check, "Oh, that's good, Sam, so where do I need to go ... and when?"

"Nowhere, John, you don't need to leave home. I'm coming to you ... if you're ok with that? For the whole weekend to make sure it works. I've packed a bag, not that I need much."

That sounds like confirmation to me, lifting my confusion. I know I have to produce some semen filled with millions of swimming sperm, and although she hasn't used the fuck word, it's obvious now that she doesn't expect to draw my sperm from out of a plastic cup that I've sprayed into. This delightful, vibrant young 28-year-old woman wants me to fuck my sperm into her. Several times, from her suggestion that she stay for the whole weekend. I feel my cock jerking within my pants in response to her revelation.

"So, Sam, when do you want to come over?"

"Now, if that's ok with you, John. I hope you don't have anything planned for this weekend."

"Err ... no, Samantha, I don't. So, do you want to stay?"

"Yes, of course, we have to give this every chance. I hope you're up to it, we could be quite busy from tonight until Sunday."

I must leave an awkward silence on the phone, now that I am absorbing the fact that she isn't intending to be artificially inseminated.

Sam fills that silence, "My bag is packed. I'm just waiting for Mike to get home from work to tell him where I'll be, then I'll hurry over. My guess is that I could be at my most fertile within the next few hours, so we could be in for a long night. Oh, I am so excited, John."

I am tempted to tell her that I am too, now I know what to expect, but I don't want to sound over eager, like I'm only interested in the fucking part. We end the phone call when she tells me that she can hear her husband arriving home now. I sit there in my kitchen ... stunned. I've always thought sperm donors did their thing well away from the recipient and that the life-creating sperm was conveyed to fertilise the woman's egg through test tubes and injection. I've never heard of a woman receiving her precious donor delivery of sperm in the form of a fornicating fuck.

Do I need to do anything to prepare? Will she expect me to take her straight to bed as soon as she arrives or should we take some time to get to know each other? Should I make us some dinner?

Man, here I was, expecting a quiet night in, watching some TV and suddenly, I am about to have sex. It's been a while; I hope I don't cum too quickly. I suppose that won't matter if I do. Samantha wants my sperm, not necessarily an orgasm.

I decide I need a quick shower and to change into some clean clothes. I don't know how long she will be because I don't even know where she lives. What will Michael's response be when she tells him she will be staying with me all weekend? Hopefully, she prepared him better for this than she did with me.

After my shower, I put on clean shirt, underpants and a pair of trousers and sit down in my living room to wait. I can feel a half hard-on within my pants ... is that anticipation now that I know I am about to have sex or from the vigorous soaping I gave my cock in the shower?

I hear a car pull onto the driveway. That will be her ... I'm tempted to rush to open the door but, don't want to appear over eager, so I stay in my chair until Samantha rings the bell. I plan to imply an indifference to what is about to happen, like it's an everyday event, yet inside I am over the moon that I'm about to have sex for the first time in over a year ... perhaps even hot sex from her words on the phone.

The doorbell rings and I walk to open the front door. I recall Samantha as a very attractive young woman, but before me stands a radiant young woman with a beaming smile. I know Richard said that Michael is shooting blanks but he must at least be giving Sam good sex because she looks like a woman who's getting a lot of it. Or, am I looking at the face of a woman anticipating a lot of it this weekend? Oh, the pressure!

She wears a pastel pink blouse with a floral-patterned skirt that doesn't quite reach her knees. Her legs appear bare -- my immediate thought is not having to contend with pantie-hose. She's about 5'4" but is wearing heels and her breasts are a good size for her height. She has her auburn hair tied back in a bun.

"Sam, it's so good to see you again ... it's been quite a while." I'm unsure how to welcome Sam into my home. I try offering a tentative hand to shake hers politely but, she steps forward, brushing my proffered hand aside, thrusting herself against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, prompting me to wrap mine around her back to complete a warm hug.

"Oh, John, this is so good of you to agree to do this for me," her words muffled with her face against the top of my chest, her head under my chin.

We stand this way for a long moment, so good to hold a beautiful young feminine body against me. She feels good in my arms. What next? What is she expecting? Should I kiss her now ... and if I do, will it be tongues, or is that too forward? As much as I'm a man who has always led in a sexual relationship, I feel I am flying blind with this one. Will we engage in foreplay or is that too intimate for a sperm donation? It's so rare an event, that I don't know if there's any rules.

After a very long held hug, she pulls back and I lean beyond her to slam the door shut. We are alone in my house.

"Oh, John, you look good. You haven't changed a bit ... if anything, maybe a little more distinguished. I wonder if you ever knew ... oh my god, should I admit this before we do...? Oh, I've come this far ... I'll have to admit that I had a huge crush on you when I was nineteen."

"Really, Sam? I do recall that was about the time I first noticed you at those family gatherings. I recall we sat and talked for around an hour at a couple of those."

"Oh, so you do remember that ... I thought it might only be me. I had these raging hormones. After the first time we talked, I formed this huge crush on you. I looked forward to those family gatherings and even when we didn't talk, I could just watch you. At night, after those days, I'd have these vivid sexual dreams ... and you were in them."

"Really? I wish I'd known about that then, Sam."

"Wouldn't have helped, you were married to Carolyn and you two always looked so happy together. I'd say the perfect couple."

"Yes, we did make a good team, I do miss her."

"Oh, John, let's not get morbid. So, back to the present; I discovered after our first few months of marriage that Michael was likely infertile, and after a whole year of tests, it became obvious that I'd need help to have the children I'd always dreamed of. For me, it was a no-brainer that I'd turn to you -- and no one else, particularly now that Carolyn has passed. This weekend is going to be just perfect for me, in more ways than one."

"I am hesitant to raise his name at such a time like this, but what does Michael think about this?"

"Well, John, he's not happy, of course. What man would be, but the facts are what they are? He can't produce enough sperm to impregnate me and that is terrible for a woman like me who's always dreamed of having several children. He accepts that I have to do this to achieve the pregnancy to have the children. Adoption wasn't an option for me, I'm no Angelina Jolie."

"I am surprised that he didn't insist on you doing it the way most women in your predicament would do it, through test tubes and clinics."

"Of course, he'd prefer that, but I am a strong-willed woman, John. I made him aware from the moment we realised we'd need help that you have to be the donor and that conception can only occur the way God intended for babies to be created. For the chosen man -- you as substitute for Michael - to lay on top of me, present your penis into my body and fill me with millions of your active sperm, perfectly timed to fertilise my egg."

"You paint a wonderful picture, Sam. I feel honoured that you chose me, I hope that I can live up to your expectations."