Chapter 2

Alexander

I made my way down the street toward the clinic, looking down at my smartphone to avoid the faces of strangers on the street. I had grown accustomed to the confused looks I got as I walked into the clinic each month, a single man with no pregnant woman—or woman at all—by my side.

“Excuse me,” I said to a man as I squeezed around him on the packed sidewalk and ducked into the clinic.

The secretary at the front desk smiled as we exchanged pleasantries. “You can take a seat,” she said. “We’ll be ready for you in just a minute.”

“Not a problem,” I said and offered a cheeky smile.

God was she perfect, with sexy curves she wasn’t afraid to show off. She wasn’t stick thin like the women who usually threw themselves at me. She was womanly, with breasts I imagined sucking on, and an ass I imagined sliding my cock into.

She was half the reason I came here every month. Just one look at her and I was spilling my cum into the plastic cup they gave me. It was the highlight of my month.

The faded blue chair embraced me as I regarded the two pregnant women and one couple seated beside me. There was something about this place that always had me reflecting on my life and what I wanted for the future. Seeing these people who so badly wanted families pulled at my heartstrings. After all, that’s why I was here in the first place. With no prospective girlfriends or wives on the horizon, I wanted to be sure that my DNA was passed down to at least a few children by other means.

With the athletic build and blue eyes that ran in my family, I’d been told more than a handful of times—mostly by happily-married housewives—that my future children would be gorgeous. I suppose that’s what led me to Google search for sperm donation banks in the first place. Though it wasn’t exactly charity, it was my way of doing something for other people. And that was good enough for me, at least for now.

I sat and watched the expectant parents rub their baby bellies and read literature about having a healthy pregnancy. I wondered if I would ever have that experience, or if I was destined to keep my routine of working, gyming, sleeping and eating for the rest of my life. I glanced out the window behind me and saw a homeless man begging for change on the busy Atlanta streets and decided there were worse things than being a bachelor.

“Mr. and Mrs. Johansen,” a nurse called.

The man and woman next to me made their way behind the double doors I’d become all too familiar with. They nearly trampled a scraggly twenty-something who hurriedly dashed straight out of the clinic. I pegged him as a sperm donor, probably looking for some extra cash.

I suppose I wasn’t their normal clientele. When I first mentioned sperm donation to some of my buddies over drinks, they laughed so hard that tears fell from their eyes. It went something like, “Dude, you’re the CEO of a giant company. You have, like, a billion dollars! What the hell do you need to go jack off in a cup for?”.

“Mr. Preston,” the sex-kitten behind the desk called, jolting me from the same thoughts I pondered every time I visited. “We’re all set.”

The way she looked at me gave me an instant erection. She was sexy, but not the kind of sexy that everyone would see. There was something about Casey, whose name I read on her badge as I followed her to the back, that just floated my boat, so to speak.

On one of my visits, I’d accidentally brushed up against her, and I’d inhaled the scent of her intoxicating perfume. The smell drove me wild. I went straight to a department store afterwards and tried to find it. I wanted a bottle so I could smell her whenever I wanted, but it was no good. I must have tried over 200 bottles before finally giving up.

As I walked behind her, I took in every angle of her curves. Today, she looked sexier than ever. I could see the shape of her ass perfectly through her pants. I imagined what she looked like beneath the fabric. Her two perfect cheeks, separated by a delicious crack that I just wanted to run my tongue down. I wondered if she was wearing a thong. Maybe she was going commando. The idea made my boner surge with desire.

I cleared my throat as my eyes followed the top of her pants. There it was, a little peek of panty line.

“We have the usual selection,” Casey said. “Magazines, movies. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” I said, glancing around the familiar room, complete with the outdated television and stack of sticky porn magazines.

She was still standing in the doorway when I turned back toward her, and I drank in the voluptuous cleavage that poked out of the top of her blouse. I licked my lips and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

I raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest she might want to give me a hand.

She turned and practically fled.

“Alright,” she said. “The room is yours, Mr. Preston.”

As she closed the door behind her, I walked over to click the lock in place. In the months I’d been coming, I’d used all sorts of materials as a source of inspiration—the magazines, a few of my favorite porn movies, my imagination. I walked over and picked up a Playboy magazine. Flipping through it, all the women seemed to pale in comparison to the real-life bombshell that had just left the room.

I pictured her sweet face, her soft, bouncy breasts, her generous ass with the black lace of her thong barely protecting it.

I turned and leaned my back to the door and ripped open my slacks. I let them fall to my ankles, my boxers falling after them.

My cock was long and hard, throbbing with desire already and I grabbed it in my fist and gave it one solid pump.

“Casey,” I whispered. “Bend over and slide that pussy onto this cock.”

I closed my eyes and imagined her in front of me, naked but for a black thong, black lace stockings, and a tight corset that forced her breasts out over the top.

I imagined grabbing her by the ass and pulling her down against my cock so that I slid right into her.

As my hand slid back and forth along my long shaft, I imagined it was sliding in and out of her pussy. I imagined she was squirming against me, grinding her ass back against my torso, my cock deep within her pussy.

I wanted to grab her hair and wrap it around my fist. Then I’d pull her back, riding her, her hair forming a rein that gave me ultimate control.

As my orgasm rose to the point of climax, I imagined thrusting firmly into her, shooting my cum so far inside her that it would make her scream with pleasure.

My cock throbbed in ecstasy and in a daze, I remembered what I was there for.

I grabbed the clinical little plastic cup from the table and jammed the head of my cock into it. In an instant, I was cumming, pouring myself into it like a hose. The entire cup was full in seconds and I almost felt like fainting from the pleasure of the orgasm.

I leaned back and lost my balance, narrowly avoiding falling by grabbing the door handle. I managed to support myself but must have somehow unlocked the door in the process without realizing.

Oh god, that was a good orgasm, I thought.

I held up the cup and examined my handiwork. It was full to the brim. I screwed on the lid and thought what a waste it was I wasn’t giving that load to Casey. I longed to pour myself inside her.

I sighed, taking notice for the first time of my increased heart rate. I was gasping for air. No wonder I’d almost fallen over. I felt like fainting. This had only ever happened in the most extraordinary of dirty nights for me. Where had this captivation by the receptionist come from? I’d never noticed just how hot she was until that day.

An unenjoyable sexual encounter a few weeks earlier must have been the breaking point for me, I decided. The mere fantasy of Casey was far more pleasurable than the actual sex I’d had with a woman I’d met in a bar downtown. I never had any trouble finding a woman to sleep with, but I was getting to the age where I wanted more than that.

I placed the container on the countertop beside the sink, just as I’d done plenty of times before. My pants had a few stray drops I had scattered in my excitement, so I wiped them off with a paper towel and pulled my pants back up.

This infatuation with the girl at the front desk really had my head spinning. I wasn’t even sure if she was my type, but I suddenly wanted more than anything to find out. I had always been the tough guy, the alpha male, the popular guy who all the girls flocked to. I was modest about it, but I was aware. The problem, however, was that most of the girls who had shown interest in me were airheads, dense, and unmotivated. They just wanted some man candy.

I barely knew this Casey girl. We’d exchanged small talk a few times and she’d walked me back to this room to let me masturbate on each of my visits.

Romantic, right?

My friends had all started to settle down with wives and kids. Meanwhile, I was still galavanting around, spending my nights lifting weights and my days meeting with clients and dining in fancy restaurants. I’d been thinking it might be time for me to grow up and settle down.

After my disastrous bar encounter, I had sworn off meaningless sex with strangers—at least for a little while. I thought it was a way to show myself and my friends that I was serious about settling down. I decided, however, that I would make an exception for Casey if given the chance.

I was lost in my thoughts when the door suddenly shot open.

“What the hell?” I cried, thankful that I’d just done up my pants and belt.

“Oh, Mr. Preston, I’m so sorry.” It was Casey. “I heard a crashing sound.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I must have cum a little harder than I anticipated.”

I looked at her, trying to be charming, but she wasn’t looking at me at all. Her eyes were riveted by the plastic cup, full to the brim with my semen.

Her eyebrows rose. She must never have seen it so full before.

“I’ll say,” she said, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

I smiled after her, then stopped when I realized my pants were still unzipped.