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                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1996.
Please do not remove the author information or make 
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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Donor (mm, 1st-gay-expr)
by Anonymous (address withheld)

***

Tom was 19, a second year student at Leland Stanford 
Jr. University, or Stanford. He had accepted the good-
natured kidding from his high school buddies who had 
gone on to Cal about the "Junior University" 
appellation, but explained that Leland Stanford Jr. was 
the son of a nineteenth century railroad baron who died 
at an early age.

Ironic, Tom thought, that now he was trying to create 
life at a University who had been named for a person 
who had died young! Tom had seen an advertisement in 
the school paper for sperm donors. The ad was upfront; 
it stated that donors could earn as much as $l05/week. 
Tom had called, and had gone through the long screening 
process. At the clinic he was treated well. Although 
they seemed very interested in his background, the 
screening process seemed very clinical, and almost 
unrelated to the ultimate goal of making babies! They 
tossed out terms -- sperm count, motility rates, 
viability -- almost like exam questions. Tom has 
finally told that he had passed! 

Tom had been able to tell the screening rep that he had 
had no previous sexual experiences. The screening rep 
said that this made things easier, since he should 
abstain for three days before his donation appointment. 
Tom had been a very gifted student, but had never 
really given sex serious thought. Of course, when the 
opportunity arose, he got himself off, but he had never 
given thought to having sex with someone else. The 
screening rep explained that guys who had girlfriends 
sometimes had to disappoint their girlfriends a couple 
of days before their donation days, and this sometimes 
created problems. 

Tom knew that lesbian women used the center. He would 
have preferred to know the women who used his sperm, 
and their children, but understood that this was not 
possible. The donation center kept donors and 
recipients apart, even scheduling appointments for the 
two groups on different days. 

He gave the idea of having offspring some thought. He 
liked the idea, but decided that he was helping someone 
who wanted to have children; and reasoned that someday 
he could have children himself. 

Tom always looked forward to his appointments at the 
clinic. He couldn't beat off several days before 
donating; so his appointment at the clinic meant that 
he would at least get some sexual release. 

On his scheduled appointment day, Tom almost bounded to 
the clinic after class. He walked past the 
receptionist, who noted his arrival in her appointment 
book, and asked Tom if he needed any "visuals." Tom 
said no. 

A young black technician appeared, and told Tom to 
follow him. He obeyed. The clinician was black, and Tom 
noticed the contrast with his white lab coat. The 
technician took Tom down a long hall, to a fairly large 
room. The room had been disguised, and did not look 
clinical. There was a bed with a somewhat "homey" faded 
cover. A modern painting adorned the wall, along with a 
clock of 1960's vintage. The clock seemed out of place 
to Tom; but he reasoned that the clock was probably 
about the same age he was, so he accepted its presence. 

Even in the midst of this clinical, somewhat impersonal 
setting, Tom was hard. He knew that he would have 
absolutely no problem getting off. His psyche yearned 
for more, however. Some physical touch, perhaps. In the 
midst of creating new life, he felt alone. 

Tom looked at the lab technician. The young black man 
seemed to represent the only humanness in the clinic. 
Although Tom was 19, and very self-assured, he desired 
the touch of someone else. 

The technician said, "I guess you'll be OK?" Tom picked 
up on this response. The question seemed almost 
inviting. Tom sat on the bed, and said, "Hey -- it'll 
just take seconds -- please stay." He realized that the 
technician might respond differently than he had hoped! 
Tom also didn't know what he wanted. He knew he was at 
the clinic for a very singular purpose, but the desire 
for human contact, even at this most personal moment, 
overcame his reluctance to voice this request. 

In a very deep and low voice, the technician told Tom 
that he'd never watched before. Tom realized that the 
young black technician had given him permission to 
proceed.

Tom pulled off his pants in an instant. His 19-year-old 
cock was raised to full attention now. Although he had 
not developed his full adult stature, his sexual organ, 
sexuality, and potency were at their peak. 

Tom settled down on the bed. The young black technician 
moved closer, and broke the seal on the plastic 
collection container. "My name's Mike," he said, 
breaking his anonymity. Tom could feel a degree of 
humanness emerging from this very inhuman setting. 
Suddenly his mind relaxed. He closed his eyes; his mind 
went into the same sexual fog that it did when he beat 
off in his dorm room. 

Mike looked down at Tom, nervous, but surprisingly 
excited. Almost reflexively, he put some saliva on his 
hand, and placed his hand on Tom's cock. He felt Tom 
tense, but did not draw away. He opened his eyes, and 
looked up at Mike from his prone position on the bed. 
Tom had only kissed girls before, but Mike's lips 
suddenly looked more inviting than the lips of any 
woman he had kissed before. A quick mental check 
confirmed to Tom that this sexual experience would be 
safe. 

Mike started rubbing Tom's cock. Suddenly Mike felt a 
part of a process that he had felt divorced from 
previously. In some ways, he felt as if he were 
actually giving life; or at least assisting in the life 
process. As his hand increased in speed and frequency, 
he looked down at Tom, who was only half-undressed. 
Mike sensed that this very self-assured, intelligent 
young man needed physical contact and assurance. His 
lips met Tom's cockhead. 

Tom felt the primeval urgings and cravings of a 
thousand generations, as his back arched rhythmically. 
He felt Mike's tongue, and allowed it to slather around 
his cockhead. Suddenly, Tom felt his body nearing 
orgasm. He pulled his penis away from Mike's, lips and 
said, "I'm coming." Mike removed his hand from Tom's 
cock, and picked up the sterile container. Placing it 
under Tom's cock, he was amazed at the amount of semen 
collected -- perhaps 6-7cc, he mentally estimated. 

Mike felt Tom's body relax. This whole brief sexual 
sequence had made Mike feel a part of the process he 
had previously felt apart from. 

Both young men regained their composure. Tom put on his 
pants, and sat up on the bed. He estimated that the 
entire process had taken less than two minutes, but a 
feeling of total satisfaction overcame him. His sexual 
and physical needs had been met. 

"We'll get this on ice right away," Mike said. He 
imagined the cryogenic process holding Tom's gift of 
life in suspended animation. And, somehow, he felt at 
part of this potential new life. 

As Tom walked down the corridor to the reception area, 
he wondered if his future child would ever try to find 
him someday. He resolved that if this future child did 
someday try to search him out, he would tell him this 
entire story; that the child was really the result of a 
gay sexual experience. 

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 1