Donor's Delight

I had seen his picture, but didn't know what to expect. His picture had him with a full beard and long, wavy brown hair and green eyes. He had a nose that was a little big but not too much, and a smile that's the kind I like: genuine, warm, friendly, and even cute. He even had dimples, which matched up with how he was as a baby. I had to see those - after all, he was going to knock me up. Not directly, though.

At least, at first that's what I thought. But let me explain: there are two kinds of impregnation that I've learned about when it comes to dealing with donors personally (and I mean personally as in, I was done with the clinics - nothing worked for me and I couldn't stand it anymore not being able to get pregnant with their weak sperm). The first is "NI", or Natural Insemination. This is as you'd expect it: penis, vagina, insert, cum, done. The other is "AI", which is 'Artificial Insemination', where a man goes, jacks his dong, cums into a carefully cleaned cup, and then I take a special eye dropper and put it up my vagina so that it can get as close to my cervix as possible. It's technical and complicated, but it's supposed to work.

That day, I was planning to do AI. And then the next day, and the day after that. The reason was I had my cycle on the mark for the 23rd, and I wanted 'Davey Jones' as he called himself on the page I found him on, to work for those three days in not only ejaculating lots of sperm for me, but also so that I could get to know the guy a little. I didn't know whether the man wanted to be a father, or to just dump his cum in a cup and then drive off. He said on the site we met that he had successful impregnated two women (he didn't say whether it was AI or NI), and that he could drive to meet me within 200 miles. That worked out as I could meet him at the Granstaff Motel just outside of town (I didn't want him to see my apartment, gosh! Such a mess!) and we could grab a bite to eat in those days when he wasn't trying to get me pregnant.

I was at the motel and had checked in under a different name (I didn't want him to find out who I was, and likewise I didn't want to know who he was - what if it didn't work you, y'know, and he turned out to be crazy or a rapist or something). It was 2 o'clock and I heard a knock at my door. My heart jumped in my chest. I should mention that I'm 41, five foot one inches (a pretty short gal), with 36 D breasts (too much up front), and long strawberry blonde hair. I had on a loose shirt and jeans and my cowboy boots. Those things are on, that means nothing's coming off unless they absolutely have to. I tried to make sure my hair looked okay in the mirror quickly enough, and went to the door.

The smile hit me like a lightning bolt. "Hi there, I'm Davey," he said and he shook my hand.

"Howdy," I said, sheepishly, as if I was a 14 year old girl again. "I'm Sammy."

I was feeling puddle-like due to the fact that 'Davey' had shaved off his beard and he had a chiseled face underneath all that stubble, and his mane on top of his head, while trimmed a little from his picture, flowed luxuriously. He had on a tight shirt and jeans and also a pair of cowboy boots as well, and the shirt accentuated just how ripped he must have been underneath it all. For a split second I felt a tingle in my vagina, but I let that slide by the wayside.

He came in and I closed the door. I told him to have a seat at the small table that was on the opposite side of the room from where the bed and the bathroom was.

"Well, you sure have a swell place here, madam." he smiled and I laughed. He chuckled. He was even better than his picture, and I could picture good gene stock developing from him. He looked no older than 24 or 25, and he could've been younger. I went to my small bag and got out a file folder.

"Okay, so, as we talked about online, I just need you to sign this right here," I said.

"So this makes sure I'm waived of all responsibility for the baby and no contact until 18, correct?"

"Yes, it's only a legal precaution, mostly to protect yourself. It also states how many times you'll be willing to donate."

"Oh, right," he said. I saw a flash of concern over his face.

"Is there any problem? I thought I also discussed with you-"

"No, no, there's no issue with that. I just thought that... well, even as I'm a a few hundred miles from home, I'd like to make sure that you can get pregnant before I drive on back. Otherwise I'd feel like I was wasting your time as well as mine." He had a serious face about him. I liked it. It was mature. He suddenly seemed more grown-up than when he first walked in to the door, like Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise or something.

"You know what? That's fine. If you'd like to stick around the area, I'll should be able to tell you within a few weeks if I'm pregnant or not."

"Good, good. I noticed that the last time I did this that it worked out better that I stuck around and could really, you know, bring it all on home for the lady." He smiled again, though it wasn't quite as warm as the first, it felt nice. Fatherly.

"That's great. So, just sign here, and initial here," I said, and motioned my fingers for where he would sign. I got a closer look at his hands. They were tough and firm, not soft hands, and I liked that as well. And he had long fingers...

"And you have your test results with you?"

"Of course." He produced those out of one of his pants pockets. It was legit. Totally clean.

"It really means the world to me that you're doing this, I just want to make that clear to you."

"Hey, any way a boy from Tulsa can help a lovely lady like you," He smiled again. Swoon. But I had to keep that under control. He was attractive, but I didn't want to have sex with him. It wasn't like that at first. I'd tried the natural way with my ex, Norm, who had a slightly smaller than normal but okay 5 inch cock and could only get it up when he smacked me around. It was a painful relationship and when I broke it off with him it made me hate sex for a while. For the surface hotness Davey was emanating, I had to resist.

"How about we get started now?"

"Absolutely! Let me just drop trow here, and-"

"Oh, no, no, wait, no, there's-" I was stammering, surprised and shocked. Was this guy really going there?

"Sammy... I'm horsing with you." He had a fuller smile then. It hit me who he reminded me of: he reminded me of my brother.

(who, for about a year, I was hot for too, but had to get that out of my mind because, well, incest, gross... but I did finger myself a lot for him, and I could see myself fingering myself for him, if I got to know him better)

"You have everything all set up and all?" he asked.

"Of course. I have a few, you know, magazines and things in the bathroom and there's a cup with a lid by the sink."

"That's mighty kind of you. I'll probably look at some things on my phone, though. No need to make any pages extra sticky."

We both had a laugh at that. He said his, 'see you later' and went into the bathroom.

I sat by the edge of the bed and then paced the room for a minute or two. The tingling in my vulva kept pulsating, but I tried to ignore it. I turned on the television that was in the motel room - bullshit reality show playing, nothing that I can remember now - and it was about five minutes in that I noticed the door wasn't completely closed. The opening was only an inch or two, but it would be enough to sneak a peek.

One side of me thought, "Psshaw, Samantha, get it out of your head. He has good stock, that you know, but you're not really *attracted* to him. You're just excited because you're looking forward to being a mother." And the other side thought "But... what if he has a good dick? Like, a really good one? It's probably all firm and thick and has a nice mushroom head that's uncircumsized and has all those veins that pulsate around his hand as he pumps and..."

Fuck it, I decided, just a quick peek. I leaned in very nonchalantly and saw him sitting on the edge of not the toilet as I expected but the bathtub edge. He had his pants off as well as his underwear and had his phone in one hand. In the other hand was the biggest cock I have ever seen. My God. A good seven and a half, maybe eight, inches, with its tip glistening and the shaft a nice tanned brown - he probably tanned himself all over, of course he did - and the look on his face was tight and taut, but still incredibly sexy. He wasn't pounding his dick too fast, he was giving it slow, smooth gyrations, from the bottom of his shaft to the top of the head. He also had gorgeous, massive balls that were shaved, just how I like them. He was shaved all over, and it brought back a brief flash of when I saw my brother naked once. I felt so fucking wet that I wasn't sure what I was going to do.

He made a sound just then, only a slight murmur, and I saw him tense up and one, two, three, then eventually eight shots of solid, white jizz shot out of his penis into the cup he quickly reached for. I suddenly felt really embarrassed and flushed, like I finally went too far - seeing him beat his meat was one thing, seeing the material that would make me a mother was something else - and I quickly leaped off the bed, grabbed my jacket, and went out the door.

I lit a cigarette and puffed on it very quickly. I didn't even give it ten puffs and then lit another one, chain-smoke style. I actually wanted to take off my pants and start fingering myself, but I couldn't do that.

As I was smoking this second cigarette, trying to get the image of his delicious package, he came out the door, though I didn't hear him. "Can I have one of those, Sammy wammy?"

"Wammy? You're serious?"

He gave a sheepish shrug. "Eh, I can try and make some phrases, usually they're duds." I handed him a cigarette and lit it for him. "All good for now," he said. He added after one long, slow drag, as if he was taking in every bit of smoke in the cigarette - sexy as fuck-like, "You want to grab a steak over at that at the bar down the road?" There was a really good steakhouse just outside of town. I didn't know anyone where, which would be good since I didn't want anyone to see me with a man like this - too many questions and all.

"Sure, I'd like that. My treat of course," I said, and he cut me off- "No, no, I insist," We then went into one of those dopey back and forths where one person tries to offer to buy the other a meal. Normally that's what you do at the end of the meal, right? I guess we were already passed that somehow... whatever that means.

(Of course, before we left, I went into the bathroom and did my first attempt at the AI treatment - I went into the bathtub, my legs up, and got as much semen as I could into the eye-dropped and put it into my vulva and up my vagina. It was a... surreal feeling, like I was an alien doing a probe of myself. Outside in the room, Davey was whistling some old cowboy song, and I felt goosebumps as I knew the words to it.)

At dinner, we spent a little time in an uncomfortable silence. We were just, you know, looking at one another, or trying not to look at one another. I could feel the charge that I felt for him, a small electric current, but I wondered if he did for me. Maybe he did, or maybe he liked to smile at all the girls that he knocks up with his super-sperm, or even if he doesn't knock them up. He ordered one of those steaks that looks absolutely perfect, and I ordered a salad. I was mostly playing around with it.

"You're not too hungry?" Davey said. He had an expression as if he was genuinely concerned, or at least faking it well.

"Oh. I'm fine. They might've given me too much dressing."

"Well, you could ask for how you like it."

"Oh, no," she said, "I couldn't do that, I don't want to cause too much trouble."

"You should always ask for what you want, this is America after all." He raised up a hand, "Waiter!" He said this with authority, but didn't have to raise his voice too greatly. The tone of it brought the waiter over quickly. "This salad isn't what she asked for, too much dressing, can you please make it so it's a little lighter? Thanks."

"So sorry, madam, will have it for you right away," said the waiter sheepishly as he scurried away. I was impressed. Davey took charge of that well. Could he take charge of other things too?

"So, let's not sit here all googly eyed the whole time, my dear," Davey said, almost with a touch of like a British accent or some shit. Maybe he meant it, or maybe not. Either way, he was turning me on just saying 'my dear,' like some old gentleman caller. "Tell me about yourself, what are you up to around these parts?"

"Me? Oh, gosh, I, well, I was married before."

"Aye," he said matter of factly.

"My husband he... died, very suddenly."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, He..." (I was trying to find the words, this wasn't really true after all) "Had a weak heart. And we did try for a while to have a baby, but every time we really tried for it he'd have like a panic attack or pass out or something like that."

"Damn. That's no way to go about it, that's for sure." He was now playing with his food too. He was genuinely interested in what I had to say.

"And since then I've tried some of the banks, as I said, but mostly I've just been really... lonely."

"Oh, come on," he said with a smile, but his tone was different. "I bet you could have any guy you'd like."

I blushed, "Oh, no, no, it's not like that."

"You know you're really beautiful? It's in your eyes, you have that thing about a woman where it's clear you're not only attractive but... you're a good person, too. I don't know what it is but I can see it in certain people I've met."

I blushed harder. My God again. "What about those other girls?" I said suddenly, almost not realizing I was asking it.

"I'm sorry?"

"The uh, you know, the other women you gave your uh..."

"Oh, them? Those witches that came after my seed and put the curse on me!" He tried for some grandiose voice. It wasn't effective, but I laughed anyway because he was charming in his voice of quasi-mockery. "Nah, they were okay..." He had an unusual pause and ate some of his meal. After chewing for a bit - my salad came back during this time, thanked the waiter, and I took a bite, better this time - he said with a thoughtful look, "Really, one of them was very nice. She was maybe about your age, probably older, I never found out how old exactly. She was kind enough. The other... no. She actually was bad news."

"Oh? How bad?"

"Like, bad enough that I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay, sure." We went back to eating in silence. It was another awkward moment, but I didn't want to press it. After all, I didn't know this guy. What was I doing here, anyway? We shouldn't of been socializing like this. It's not so anonymous if we're chatting it up and eating our salads and steaks and, and... but his eyes...

"So, what do you, when, you know, you're not gathering up a man's precious bodily fluids?"

I chuckled and it broke the tension. We talked more casually throughout the rest of the meal, me about my life as a social worker and my love of cheesy Lifetime movies, and he with his love of, of all things, ice hockey and how he had a dream to one day play for the Dallas Stars. I found it endearing, and kind of sad since he said he had an injury in college that kept him from playing professionally. Since then he was something of an amateur musician, singing in honky-tonks and playing back-up bass in bands.

I paid for the meal, as I can recall, and we headed back to the motel. On the drive back he got serious again. "Say, uh, if it's alright, want that I should try again?"

I turned to him with a start, "What do you mean?"

"I may have put this in my listing online, maybe not, but... I have a rather high sperm count, like, higher than the average guy. So, if you want, I don't think I have to necessarily have to leave so soon. Like, I could go in the bathroom and give you another lo- I mean, sample," he said. He seemed almost flush in asking me.

Like I'd say no after what I got an eyefull of. "Sure, I-I mean, if you think you can-"

"Well, no, it's no prob-

"It's just sometimes some guys, you know, they uh, can't get it up so soon-"

"Oh, that's no problem for me." He said matter of factly. We sat there without saying much else for the rest of the drive there (which wasn't too long, but it felt like an eon), but I couldn't help but keep looking at him as the sun was going down and that sweet magic-hour light was cast on his face.

We got back in the motel room and we both were again a bit awkward around one another. We talked over each other briefly and laughed like we were both high schoolers at one of those fucking stupid dances. He then excused himself and went into the bathroom to 'do the big-deed' as he said it.

Once again he closed the door, but this time I noticed what the issue was: the door wasn't holding in its place, and so about thirty seconds after he closed the door, and I thought I might settle on the bed and read a magazine, the door creaked open (a little wider than last time too), and I could see in as he was once again pants completely off (socks too), and slowly masturbating his giant cock to whatever it was he was looking at on his phone.

The throbbing in my panties was like a pleasant but firm and insistent vibrating, like the early stage of an earthquake, and I put my hand down into my pants. I hadn't been this wet since the earliest, back-seat-of-the-car days with my ex. I rubbed my clit and it was really big, and I could feel the nipples peaking through my bra to the point where they hurt. I was really fucking turned on by this guy.

And, at that, the one side of my voice (the not so sensible, devilish one) took over.

I opened the door all the way and stood there. As if he was caught like a 13 year old he looked up and just held his penis, frozen, in mid-stroke. His eyes were wide at me, and for a split second I wanted to just run away and never come back. I mean, what the hell, I'd already injected myself with his cum, I could've already had those little suckers in my uterus working their way. But this wasn't about that. I noticed his dick wasn't quite as hard as it was when I had seen it before - whether it was the shock of seeing me or if he wasn't as turned on before I didn't know - but I finally found the words in my throat.

"uh, uh... Say, you want any help with that?" I said with a big-toothed smile.

Davey looked around for a moment and said, "Uh... sure, what do you have in mind?"

"Well..." I came closer to him, and took off my shirt. I left on my bra for the moment, but he could clearly see through the material - my bras then didn't leave much to the imagination, really thin material - that my nipples were hard as thimbles - and I kneeled down. I could smell the pungent aroma of his whole groin area, and I felt an extra tingling in my cunt, my clit pounding so hard that I wasn't sure what I'd do, and I took my hand and placed it over him. "I can help and take some of the pressure off your hand, if you'd like."

He smilled, or more like a grin. He liked this idea a lot. "Help yourself." He took his hand off and I put mine on. I could barely get my whole hand around his shaft, and I took the other hand and put it up at the top of his knob. I started to stroke it slowly, as I'd seen him do it, and I looked up at his face the whole time. He had his eyes closed for a moment, but he'd open them and look directly into mine. We were so fucking hot for one another it had to lead to something else.

I briefly looked down and saw the phone he was holding and an image of my face was on it, though starting to fade as the screen went black. I looked back up at him. "Mr. Davey?"

"Oh God, yes?"

"Were you looking at *me* when you were beating your gorgeous, hot cock before?"