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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.