"That's why here at the reproductive clinic," Doctor Palin goes on. "...we make sure to practice natural insemination only with the largest of males who can produce the most intense sexual stimulation within the female."
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I want to jump up in shock. My mouth opens wide. I can't quite believe what I just heard. It's like tearing the wrapping off a birthday present and being surprised by a diamond ring inside.
"And when I mean large," She goes on to describe. "I'm talking about large both in length as well as girth, able to easily penetrate the full length into any female, essentially the equivalent of a double-D size male."
I hardly hear the rest of what she has to say. I remain in shock. My mouth probably stays open as well. Her words about a "double-D sized male" strike me particularly hard, like someone giving me a slap across the face. I never realized there could be such a variety between males, not down there, and then I naturally wonder what dimensions a male would have to measure to achieve a double-D rating.
It takes several seconds to bring myself back down to reality. I attempt to get hold of myself, rest my feet back upon solid ground, even close my mouth back up and not look so intensely interested. I realize I must resemble some wanton slut, like some oversexed young woman at her first bachelorette party. That's certainly how I feel, and then I hope my husband hasn't notice.
From the person sitting in the chair beside me, I can tell he has a hard time believing it too. I hear him stir. He looks uncomfortable, and well he should be. Any husband would naturally be very much disturbed by what the doctor just said. When he eventually does speak, it comes out as a convoluted "Well, um." A rare loss for words for him! It appears he has a hard time believing it as well.
"We have several natural inseminators who would be more than capable of helping in this regard," Doctor Palin continues as if having given the same speech a thousand times before and accustomed to getting the same reaction from every married couple she has ever told. "Perhaps if I could introduce you to one of them, then give you time to think about it?" She suggests.
Although I hear her question, I cannot answer. My brain remains locked on the first part of her conclusion. "Double D sized males," I keep thinking to myself. And then what she said about girth as well as depth. The words resonate inside me like a cymbal, echoing back and forth within the limited confines of my head. They pull for my attention, pulling me out of the room and far away from her offer.
"Just hold on!" My husband recovers before me. "Natural inseminators? What exactly do you mean by this?"
I wonder too, although I already know. I know exactly what she means because my husband explained it to me. I had a difficult time believing him at first, a difficult time believing such a clinic might actually exist, but it was part of the reason why I agreed to come along.
"I'm talking about males," Doctor Palin answers simply. "We're discussing the possibility of human males impregnating your wife! Isn't that why you are here?"
Having it confirmed makes my heart jump. Actual human males, other than my husband to aid in my pregnancy. The thought delights me. It delighted me right after my husband first mentioned it -- after I got over the initial shock, that is. It brought further delight when I saw the handsome young male receptionist behind the desk when we first walked in, and then the two male nurses who assisted with the other patients. All were tall, dark, handsome, and with enough muscles to play quarterback for a college football team. In fact, they all looked like they were still in college.
"Well, yes, of course!" My husband answers with some difficulty, like he is in a trap, trapped by his own words. "It's just that, until now..."
"Are you saying this bothers you?" Doctor Palin questions. "If it does, then perhaps you shouldn't be here, but I did explain it to you over the phone. I clearly explained the procedure is totally natural. It will require your wife to be impregnated by natural methods."
"Of course," My husband nods.
"And the only natural method of impregnation is through sexual intercourse," She goes on to explain it even more directly. "Our procedure will require your wife to be, as they like to say on the street, to be fucked by another man."
Her use of the word makes me jump. Hearing it come from a doctor, a professional makes it no less so. Whoever says it, the word carries precisely the same meaning.
"Sorry for being so direct," The Doctor apologizes before either of us have a chance to object. "But that is what the general populous most commonly calls it: fucking. For your wife to get pregnant by natural means, she will have to be fucked by another man."
Again she uses the word, and then yet again, and she's right! For me to get pregnant, I will have to be fucked. My imagination instantly leaps to the receptionist and then to the handsome young men I already encountered. A split second later I recall her words about size. The thought makes my eyes go wide. My body stiffens in the chair.
"If you have a problem with this, I suggest you leave right now before you waste any more of my valuable time," Doctor Palin speaks through my disturbing yet very pleasant thoughts. Her tone turns more serious, almost condescending to my husband. The folder before is tossed aside. She pushes her chair back away from her desk and starts to get up.
"I never said I wouldn't consider it!" My husband holds his own. He raises the palms of his hands like a fighter defending himself from a possible right hook. "It's just that I'm thinking more of my wife. She needs time to consider it. We both do."
Doctor Palin stops in mid-rise. She is hunched over at her desk, with her hands on the arm rests, caught half-way between sitting and standing. Leaning forward, her blouse opens and displays the upper portion of her breasts, a fact my husband must certainly notice.
"Perhaps I misunderstood you," She pauses several seconds more before sitting back down. "You'll have to excuse me," She apologizes. "It's just that I encounter a large number of insecure men in my line of work, men who are not strong enough in their relationships with their wives to appreciate a perfectly viable medical procedure."
My husband sits up proudly in his chair as if to announce his own security.
"They somehow feel intimidated, even insulted by the idea of their wives undergoing a treatment where the male sperm is ejected by totally natural methods into their wife. I dare say, some can't help but have some ridiculous assertion that their wives are cheating on them, like they are having an extramarital affair," She proposes the idea and then laughs at it. "I mean an extramarital affair! Really! Over a medical procedure? And in this day and age! Such men remind me of cave dwelling Neanderthals."
My husband laughs along with her. So do I. I can't help it. The laughter is contagious. It does make some men sound barbaric, yet at the same time...
At the same time, I can't help but feel excited by it. One of her words in particular wedges itself in my mind: "eject." Yes indeed, another man will need to eject for the procedure to work. Eject, that is, in the form of an ejaculation. He won't be wearing a rubber, of course, because that would negate the whole purpose of the procedure. He will have to insert himself into me in the bare, raw, with nothing to get in the way of me feeling every inch of him. I'm sure he won't be wearing anything else either, the thought of which sends a pleasurable wave of ecstasy through my body.
"I hope you see the point I am trying to make," Doctor Palin addresses my husband directly.
"Oh, I do!" He agrees.
"And can I assume you are not one of those types of men?"
"I am not," He assures her with confidence.
"Good then," The smile on her face returns. She picks our file back up from the side of her desk. "The next step in the procedure is to introduce you to one of our professional inseminators, if you wish?" She asks and then lets the question hang in mid-air like bait from a fishing hook.
My husband looks at me.
I look back between him and the doctor. We both know what this means. It means she wants to introduce me to one of the men who might be inseminating me, that is, to one of the men who very possibly will be fucking my brains out. I can't wait to find out what he looks like, how handsome he might be, his age, height, and everything else about him.
"I guess that would be the logical next step," My husband concludes as my mind swirls with delight. "If you are still willing to go on with it?" He looks at me to question.
I nod my head, trying not to nod it too violently. "As long as we drove all the way hear and took the time off from work," I attempt to sound disinterested. "We might as well."
Doctor Palin immediately picks up her phone and asks the person on the other end to send "Jason" into the office. She says his name only after giving me a careful look over. It is as if she tries to guess my interest, check which type of man I will find most stimulating. Tall or short? Blond or brunette? Muscular or skinny? I find myself waiting with anxious anticipation for whomever she selected.
"You'll like Jason," She assures me after she hangs up. "Very professional. Rather creative, although he can be a bit rough."
Her warning comes in little more than a whisper. She places her hand on the side of her mouth to direct her words only to me. They intrigue me: first creative and then rough. I wonder if she refers to sex, the act of sexual intercourse. Creative and rough would be interesting. I wonder how rough he might be.
"What was that?" My husband wants to know. Although he sits right beside me, he apparently didn't hear. Or perhaps he did hear but refused to listen.
"Nothing," Doctor Palin assures him. "Perhaps your wife will explain after she completes the procedure."
Just then he walks in. I gasp at the sight. All my reservations evaporate as soon as I see him. A handsome man, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only sweat pants. His chest appears like a fine sculpture. His face handsome and proud. He walks in through the back door of her office and stands up along side the desk of the doctor.
"This is Jason," Doctor Palin introduces. "He's one of the inseminators here at the clinic."
"Wait a minute," My husband immediately rejects. He sees it too, I can tell. The fine lines, the bulging muscles. Perhaps he notices the interest in my eyes too, my attraction to this stranger. I can't be sure, but fear I may have let out an audible gasp.
"What's wrong?" I feign disinterest and ask my husband in an attempt to discharge any damage I may have already done.
"Is there a problem?" Doctor Palin asks him the same question. "Isn't he what you expected?"
My husband sits speechless, taking several seconds to answer. "His age!" He finally raises his first objection. The tone of his voice expresses worry.
Yes, there is his age too. I notice it as well! Jason looks young, very young, hardly of legal age. He could be ten years my junior. I have never been with a younger man; never even dated a man younger than myself, and this one looks young enough to be my son. The potential vitality and energy of such a young man intrigues me.
"What did you expect, a fifty-year-old man?" Doctor Palin almost laughs at him. "The clinic wishes to provide the best possible chance for your wife to achieve a successful pregnancy," She speaks as if it should be obvious to him. "Don't you want to give your wife the maximum possible chance?"
"Well, yes," My husband stupidly agrees.
"Then we naturally need to utilize young men," Doctor Palin concludes for him. "Young men have more energy, more vitality. They can perform the procedure for longer periods of time, and can recover more quickly between procedures."
He certainly does look young and with great energy. I wonder how young. Early twenties, at the most. He might only be eighteen or nineteen.
"If this bothers you," The Doctor repeats the same argument from only a few minutes before. "Then perhaps the procedure is not right for you. You need to remember we will be conducting a medical procedure here. It is not as if your wife will be having an illicit affair with this young man."
Her suggestion sounds stimulating: An illicit affair! I wouldn't mind having an affair, at least in my imagination. I imagine meeting Jason at the table in the restaurant where I work. He could be a young man on a long business trip. We would get to talking, get to know each other, and then I could let him take me to his hotel room next door. My husband would never know. He couldn't imagine me capable of such mischievous behavior.
"I know! I know!" My husband weakly accepts. "I guess I was just surprised at his age."
"Then I should probably also warn you, as long as we are on the subject," The Doctor continues as if she never heard him. "Although Jason will technically be conducting a medical procedure on your wife, he will also be providing her with a certain amount of pleasure and enjoyment. This is part of the experience, as you should already know, so I should only be telling you the obvious."
"Well, yes," My husband accepts with hesitance.
I take a hard swallow and accept it too. It is the main reason I agreed to come in for the appointment. Looking at Jason, I believe I will be experiencing a large amount of pleasure. I am sure to enjoy myself.
"And can I assume this will not bother you?" Doctor Palin asks more directly. "I need to make sure neither your marriage nor male ego will not be affected by your wife receiving an orgasm from another man."
She does it again, using another word. I think of the few times I've had an orgasm, and then think what it will feel like to receive one from Jason. He certainly will be able to give it to me a lot easier than my husband. I wonder how easy. I want to know how hard I will cum.
"Well, um," My husband can hardly speak. "I don't believe so, but I still need to do some thinking about that part of it."
"Think about it carefully," Doctor Palin suggests. "Because with Jason, I can guarantee your wife will have an orgasm every time."
Her words make me jump. "Every time?" I want to ask. "Can he really be that good?" I ask to myself. I've heard some men were better than others -- heard it mostly from my girlfriends. I never experienced it first hand, but heard it took some men a lot longer than others. They were able to hold back, prevent their release until their partner was satisfied. My husband was never capable of this, but I wonder about Jason.
And then I think further about her words. "Every time?" The words continue to echo in my head. She makes it sound like there will be more than one time. Not a quick one-night stand, but I dare to think of the possibility of multiple opportunities with Jason!
"I'll think about it," My husband eventually agrees. It takes him time to agree. I can tell he already thinks about it, and it already bothers him. I must walk a fine line. I can't appear too interested. I must hold my emotions in check; not let my true interest show. If I do, then there will be no chance. My husband will never agree to go along with it. He won't agree with the procedure if he knows how truly aroused I am with it.
"We both need to think about it," I look at him and agree, using every ounce of energy I have to sound disinterested, to show a poker face, act like Jason fucking me will be nothing more than a normal medical procedure. But each time I think of it, I can't help but grow excited by it. The doctor said he was creative. She also mentioned he could be rough. Rough with Jason could mean a lot of things. I want to know what they are.
I also wonder about his size, and just then I notice it. My eyes naturally migrate down the length of his body when I think about his size, as if trying to imagine what he might look like without his sweatpants, and just then I focus right on it. I notice the bulge. Not at his waist, but a lot further down, which I find shocking. The bulge comes in the form of a cylinder, like a large tube trying to tent out from inside his pants. It looks as if he is starting to harden, and from the distance the bulge forms below his waist, he must be twice the length of my husband, perhaps three times.
I can't help it. I begin to think further about it. My imagination turns more vivid. I think what it would feel like to experience Jason, to experience a cock of such large proportions. Thrusting, pounding, slamming in and out of me.
"Any other questions?" Doctor Palin interrupts these pleasant thoughts with the squeak of her chair when she pushes it out from her desk. She looks as if she has another appointment.
I wish to leave too. I am not sure how much more I can take. I want to quick leave, get back into my own car to go to work, and then stop at the park to do about a five mile run. I wouldn't really run five miles, but feel like I have enough spent up energy and emotion to do so. Being so near the young man who may possibly fuck me fills me with so much anticipation I can hardly stand it.
"Just one question," My husband surprises me. "It's something you mentioned just now, about every time?"
The doctor looks back confused.
So am I. I already stand half out of my chair, but then sit back down.
"You made it sound like there will be more than one time," My husband explains with some difficulty. "It sounds like Jason might be conducting the procedure on her more than once."
"Of course he will," The doctor almost laughs at this. "You can't expect a successful pregnancy after just one attempt. We must increase the odds."
One more time my eyes practically pop out of their sockets. This time I know my mouth hangs open wide, so I quick look away from my husband to keep him from seeing.
"The procedure will last a total of three weeks," The doctor already stands and gets ready to go. "For three weeks straight, twice per day, one of my males will need to penetrate your wife to achieve maximum benefit."
I can hardly believe the words I hear. Three week? Twice per day? I quickly run through the numbers and calculate how many times Jason will be fucking me. Not just once, but a whole 42 times in all! And twice per day too! I've never before been fucked more than once per day.
"The procedure is usually done here at the clinic," More words follow but I hardly hear them. "But special arrangements can be made for Jason to come to your residence if it works out to everyone's mutual benefit. It need not necessarily be done in the evening either, but special arrangements can be made for practically any time of day. All your wife needs is two free hours for the procedure to be conducted."
"Two hours!" I want to scream it out. "Are you serious?" I want to ask but keep it to myself. Two whole hours with Jason! Two hours per day of Jason fucking me! I can hardly believe it. I don't think I will be able to stand it. Never has my husband lasted even a half-hour, and to experience it two times per day for three weeks straight!
To be continued...