A Surprise at the Sperm Bank

By Jay Roberts

Published on Jan 7, 2009

Gay

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No this is not a story about banking or finance.

If you think it is, you are probably under 18

and should not be here. Others hold your vial

steady, we just had the carpets cleaned.

I didn't advertise it, especially to my sweet mates at Columbia University, but I have been supplementing my income that last month with contributions to the sperm bank. Hell, I was just making deposits in a tissue and throwing it away, now I was getting $10.00 a spurt.

The Fertility Clinic was located only a few blocks from my dorm. Today was a New York sweltering day and I arrived at for my appointment sweaty and itchy.

I first time I was here, I had a gorgeous nurse take my history. I later caught a glimpse of my interview when she left to respond to page. She wrote, "A very handsome college student, age nineteen, no sign of early balding, nice features, especially the eyes."

Hey, if I was straight I could have gotten a date with her. Actually she thought I was straight because one of the questions asked was, "Have you had sexual relations with men?" I think they were worried about the gay gene that is a lie anyway, so I lied. I do have the liar's gene.

That first time I had no trouble in filling the glass "collector" as they referred to it. Just being in the cubicle knowing so many hot guys had made contributions to the cause was enough to get me up and running. When I came out of the door and went to the desk to sign out, I think they were surprised that I was such a quick one.

Today the old guy at the sign in desk led me to another part of the clinic. He mentioned that they were cleaning the usual area. Did he look at me hard as though to accuse me of the need for a cleaning?

The area I had never been to had three cubicles, marked A, B, and C. He opened the B door and handed me the sterile beaker encased in the sterile bag. I hope I would not be sterile myself.

He left. I sat on the cot. I allowed myself to try to recapture the zoned out feeling that usually precedes wanking. You guys know what I mean. It's a sexual trance. It's nice.

I was wearing a pair of denim shorts. I had nothing underneath; after all, this was my donation uniform and no need for extra stuff to wash. I slipped off the shorts, and then decided to go all the way and doffed my Columbia Tee Shirt. There was a mirror on my right. I stood in front of it and waggled my cock at my reflection. I thought I looked pretty good. I had nice smooth hairless skin all over and that made my dark pubes and underarm hair really stand out, almost obscenely. However, this self-admiration seemed to have no effect on junior. He stays placid and limp.

Just then I heard sounds coming from Cubicle A. I hadn't turned on the light in my A room and this created an amazing thing. The mirror was a two-say mirror. I couldn't imagine why they needed this. Perhaps they taught sex techniques to couples and they were observed. I had no idea, and to this day I have no solution.

I hurried over to the mirror, cupped my hands and peered in. It just like looking through a window. On the other side was a young guy about my age. He was a true beauty and unique in appearance. First off, he had brilliant red hair, buzzed into a brush cut, and as he disrobed, the same color decorated his luxurious pubes. They spread out from hip to hip and called attention to his long hanging prick and balls that were suspended in pink flesh, almost four inches. I could see the golf ball sized balls showing through the thin skin.

He was over six feet tall, well muscled, like a gymnast. But it was his face that really knocked me out. He had a longish Roman nose and those short upper lips you see on statues. His lips, however, were fulsome, pink and...well kissable.

He was totally without a lot of body fat. I noticed that when he sat down on the chair, no wrinkles of flesh appeared on his belly. He was taut as a drum.

He wasted no time. He grabbed the beaker and draped his long slim clock over the rim. For a minute, I thought he would just piss out his cum, but no, he reached with his right arm into his backpack and extracted a long dildo. It was fashioned in the image of a perfect penis with a big bulbous head. Then out of his magic bag came a spray can...oil I suppose. He sprayed the monster prick which now shown with an oily sheen. He lifted himself off the bed slightly, giving me a view of his faultless, cute, tight ass. His face screwed up in concentration, or may pain, as he pushed that baseball bat of a cock into his ass.

I now saw his facial expression changing. From the intense look it relaxed into a semi smile of relaxation. He bent forward slightly and began moving the rubber intruded in and out. His prick rose in excitement and he readjusted the position of the beaker.

I looked down at my own equipment. My cock was hard and lying up tight against my belly. Drops of pre cum were dripping on my bare leg. I felt my cock vibrating, a sure sign that I was close to cuming.

I grabbed the bag with the beaker and took it out and put it near my cock head. Although the authorities here think that they have made things easier for you by using a wide mouthed beaker instead of a test tube, let me tell you, you had the almost painfully push your hard cock down so that it wouldn't miss the rim.

I saw him doing that maneuver. I got my receptacle ready, pushing junior clear of the rim. My neighbor let out a long plaintive moan that I could hear through the thin wall. Then he began pulsing out heavy shots of spooge. He must have delivered six. I could see that the beaker contained a lot of sperm, certainly more than I produced. I was a little rueful over that, but then I began my own orgasm. He surprised myself by my vocalizing, lots of grunts and oo's and ah's. What a pig I was then. I shot a few heavy ones into the glass bottom. When I finished, I held it up. Not too bad.

I saw beauty next door begin to dress. He placed his beaker on shelf inside the little door. I had one of those also and copied him. The light outside was then activated and an attendant would pick up the collection by opening the outside little door.

I began to dress myself. I was kinda hoping I might run across my friend in the lobby, or outside. Suddenly I discovered something else I hadn't noticed before. The two sections of wall on the other side of this warren didn't not join properly. Being the peeping Tom I was, I put my eye up to the crack and jumped back as two very blue eyes looked back at me.

Oh shit, he saw me peeking, he saw me in my private moment of cuming and that horrible expression I get as I spooge. I quickly finished dressing and went into the lobby. I picked up my fee and hurried out.

Outside a fine rain had begun. As I walked briskly back to my dorm, I passed my red headed neighbor. I saw his back pack and grinned as I knew what it contained. The fine mist had left little seed pearls on his bush cut. He looked very scrumptious.

"Hi," I said as I passed.

He looked quizzically at me, figuring I was one of those fags trying to hit on him. How could he think such a thing? How? Cause it was true. I took a step toward him. He frown at me and walk away.

So I had sex today, but only with myself.

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