I, Paul White, have what might be called a "superpower." No, I can't move faster than the eye can see like The Flash; I can't swing on webs from building to building like Spiderman; I can't leap tall buildings in a single bound like Superman; I can't even change my six foot five inch frame to insect size like Ant Man. In fact I didn't even know about my "superpower" until as an eighteen year old (in my third year of college – I am clever, but no genius) after my second girlfriend on birth control got pregnant. Even though I was willing to support the babies (it would have required sacrifice but I was ultimately responsible) my girlfriends each made the decision completely on her own to get an abortion – traumatic for both them and me. At that time my six foot seven 280 pound ex-NFL football player father gave me the options of consulting a medical professional to see what the fuck was going on and find a solution, get castrated, get disowned, or have the shit beat out of me. I chose the first option.
I went to researchers in fertility at the science-oriented university that I attended on scholarship (I was in a hybrid mechanical-electrical engineering course of study). They had reputations as well regarded experts. They ran about every test imaginable on me, including (much to my embarrassment) having me jack off into a vial every other day for a fortnight. What they found "gobsmacked" them (the term used by Dr. Beaney, the cultured Brit who was the department head). This is what they told me:
–Average sperm motility (sperm count) is 120-350 million per cubic cm. Mine is over 800. My semen viscosity is much lower than normal, and semen volume much higher than normal, both of which provide enhanced opportunities for impregnation. Instead of a normal volume of semen per ejaculation of 2-3 ml with 10% sperm, my normal ejaculation is 10-12 ml and 25% sperm, with about half the normal viscosity. Also, my semen pH averages about 8.3 which is usually considered too basic so that it has an adverse effect on sperm motility or can indicate possible infection. However in my case neither exists, but the basic nature of my semen gives optimal protection to the sperm in the normally acidic conditions of a vagina. Finally, there are certain components of my semen that the researchers that I have consulted have never recognized in semen before, including as much maltose (not seen in semen before) as fructose (normally one of the most common components of semen), and others which seem to vary and which are unheard of before in semen, and their effects not understood.
–Their conclusion: Somehow my sperm had the ability to defeat a number of different forms of birth control, and that to be safe in the future I should "double bag" since my volume of semen was sufficient to leak out of some single condoms even if they didn't break. Fun, huh?
–In other words I was a freak (to maintain my dignity I referred to myself as one having a superpower rather than what I really was).
They wanted to study me further – like a lab rat. I declined.
***************
After my diagnosis, for a long while I avoided relationships but looked for short term flings with already pregnant single women, or single older women past child-bearing age. I did find a fifty two year old divorced professor who was very well preserved that was a more-than-acceptable friend with benefits for times while finishing my undergraduate education and while in law school. Also, at the suggestion of one of the researchers, during the roughly three and one half years after my diagnosis before I found a committed relationship I became a favorite of a fertility clinic specializing in artificial insemination.
Thirty eight year old single Dr. Wilson, who wasn't beautiful but did have big tits and a big ass attached to an otherwise sleek body, ran the clinic. When I saw her on my first visit to the clinic diabolical thoughts crossed my mind. I let her look over a report from the researchers about my "condition." She was anxious to give my sperm a try with some of her previously hopeless patients. I went into another room, jacked off (something that by now I was very familiar with), but only gave her one quarter of the semen that I produced. I gave her my phone number to call if she had success and wanted a professional relationship.
About a month later on a Monday I got a call from Dr. Wilson. "My most difficult patient is now pregnant with just one procedure. Your sperm was as advertised."
"Great," was my stellar reply.
"Can you come in to discuss a relationship?"
"Sure – how about Wednesday at 8 a. m.?"
"See you then," she replied in a sing-song voice.
I wanted to meet at eight because the clinic didn't open until nine. After she offered me $300 per insemination I had another proposition.
"Actually, I like helping people so I don't feel that I should charge. However, I hate jacking off. If you are willing to provide hand jobs once a week whatever you collect is yours," I flatly stated.
"I beg your pardon – do you think I'm a whore?" she snapped.
"Absolutely not; I know that you're in this business to help people too. What I'm asking for is a simple accommodation. Using my semen you will be able to 'guarantee' – just think about that, what other clinic could do that – 'guarantee' pregnancy. You couldn't guarantee a baby since other issues may arise, but you could absolutely guarantee a pregnancy for anyone who wasn't put off by my physical and mental characteristics for half of her baby's DNA. Think about it. Give me a call if you change your mind."
With that I got up and walked out.
Another month went by before I got another call from Dr. Wilson. "I don't like it, but as you say I'm in the business to help people, and I have several desperate clients and more on the horizon. I accept your terms – once a week."
"Great – how about 7 a. m. this Thursday?"
"OK – come to the back door."
The first two times Dr. Wilson did me with lubricated gloves on. I had no problem spunking when viewing those marvelous tits bouncing up and down as she stroked. I could tell the second time that she might actually have enjoyed it – I know that I sure did. The third time I asked her to use just her hand and some lube since the gloves hurt. The sixth time I pretended not to get turned on and asked her to take off her top and bra – which she did – resulting in an all-time volume from me. By the eighth time she was always topless and started getting me hard with her mouth before hand-jacking me off. After the sixteenth time she said that she wanted a baby herself so I met her at her house and fucked her for a week straight. After that she just used some excess semen after we fucked once a week until a month before her due date. After the baby was born we parted ways.
Dr. Wilson made a lot of money (and I believe thoroughly enjoyed herself; I know that I did).
While the professor and the doctor did keep me sexually satisfied for a while, I started longing for a real relationship – someone who could put up with double bagging until we got married, because I really did eventually want kids.
I met Cheryl when I was twenty two and in my second year of law school – I wanted to be a patent attorney. She was a senior at the same University, a year older than I was. She was pretty good-looking, friendly, and presumably stable; plus she really seemed to be into me and me her. I opened up to her about my "situation." To say that she didn't like double bagging is the understatement of the decade, however she put up with it because I provided her enough oral and anal to keep her satisfied; that is until a wild night two months before she graduated.
We were at a party where the punch tasted like lemonade, but was laced with grain alcohol. We both got drunk, me for the first time in my life. When we went back to my apartment we were feeling no pain, and were as hot for each other as we ever were. My memory is hazy, but it is more than likely that we fucked bareback twice. Cheryl took Plan B the next day – she already was on birth control – but regardless a few weeks later there was no doubt that she was pregnant.
I didn't want a third child aborted because I lost control one night – plus Cheryl had real objections to abortion. Even though I didn't know her well enough to get married, I felt that was best for her, the kid, and me – so I proposed. I exaggerated a little about whether I was going to ask her to marry me anyway, but she obviously wanted to believe that, so we got engaged.
I expedited my law school education and we got married and I graduated by the time that our first baby, Amanda, was born. I got a good job with a patent law firm and Cheryl did some part time work until our second girl, Beth, was born a year later (Cheryl refused to double bag after we were married), at which time she became a stay-at-home mom. Our son Zach was born a year after Beth, at which time Cheryl had her tubes tied, so it didn't make any difference how potent my semen was she wasn't getting pregnant again.
Since I really didn't know Cheryl all that well at the time that we got married, I should not have been surprised by issues with her personality that came up after a few years of marriage, especially since dealing with three young children wasn't the easiest thing in the world for either of us. She became alternately moody, mercurial, passive, and controlling (as much as I would let her). Although the sex was always good – what sex isn't? – it wasn't passionate, despite the fact that Cheryl looked as good as she ever had, and I believe that the same could be said for me. After about six years of marriage I wondered whether I really did love her or her me. However, I never even seriously thought about bailing on three kids, or cheating.
At that point of time I had gone out on my own, had only a secretary for staff who – like me – usually worked from home, and had restricted my practice to prosecuting patent, trademark, and copyright applications – no litigation – so I could keep whatever hours I wanted. My financial situation was the best of my life.
*************
When I had just turned thirty seven and Amanda, Beth and Zach were 15, 14, and 13, respectively, things went to shit. I was certain that Cheryl had recently started an affair, and there was no way that I would put up with it. I confronted her, she vehemently denied it, and after a cooling off period of about two weeks when I knew that she would be careful, I hired a private investigator.
My P. I. Tammy W (never did get her last name, only her first and the name of the agency that I wrote the checks to) was good – really good. Tammy had all the information that I needed within three weeks after I hired her. Cheryl was having twice weekly trysts with a wealthy (he had inherited the money, hadn't worked for it) jackass by the name of Winston Chalmers (his name alone tells you that he was an effete snob) who had a way over-inflated opinion of his physical prowess because he played rugby at an Ivy League School. Despite my size and my father's athletic acumen, in part because I was always 2-4 years ahead in school, I never progressed to proficientcyin any team sport, certainly not enough to compete in college. However, I did regularly weightlift and cross-train, and I took up various forms of martial arts. I had lost only one real fight in my life, so I was supremely confident – and motivated. I really wanted to goad Winston into a fight that he started before I dumped Cheryl.
