The White Box -- Part 2 - Sex Stories

The White Box -- Part 2

... this.” She produced the box from under the couch. “Oh, my! It looks like you got the better of the deal. Knowing you Martin I’m sure these are real. They’re beautiful.” “I’m glad you like them. Here’s a present for my favorite sister-in-law.” I gave her a box that was slightly smaller than Rita’s. Inside were emerald and diamond earrings and a matching pendant on a platinum chain. “They’re beautiful Martin, but I can’t accept this.” “Of course you can. Not only are you my favorite sister-in-law, but you’re an incredible person, too. I can see that in everything you do.” She smiled, kissed my cheek and rushed to the mirror to try them on. They looked just as great as I had hoped. “You’re so lucky, Rita.” “So are you, Sara.” “I know…what a great Christmas.” “Rita and I are hoping to have a family soon. We’ve asked Brian to help us. The torture I experienced destroyed my ability to sire children so we’re going to try in vitro fertilization. We’re sure Brian never said anything to you, but neither of us likes telling lies or having secrets from those we love. I know it takes more to be a father than just being a sperm donor.” “It does,” Brian responded, “and I’m sure you’ll be a great one. You’re a kind, loving man. You’re strong inside and gentle. I can see that in how you react with our kids. I promise I’ll do everything I can.” Rita and I left work early the first Friday in January. It was the night of the Charity Ball. We took a limo into the city, sharing a bottle of Dom ...

... Perignon on the way. I could see heads turn when I escorted Rita into the ballroom. Many of my acquaintances had read of my ordeal so they were not surprised when I introduced Rita as my wife. We had a wonderful time and it was clear that Rita fit into this level of high society well. I knew then that we do this again. I received a phone call at work the following week from a Dr. Gottlieb who identified himself as the head of OB/GYN at Stony Brook University Hospital. We spoke for fifteen minutes and set up an appointment for the following week. Rita and I met with him; he assured us he could be of help, especially considering what I was willing to spend and donate. He assured us that everything would be strictly confidential and that only he would know our identities. He examined Rita carefully and, not surprisingly, found her to be in excellent health. Then he described the process involved—the three times daily injections of fertility drugs, the injection of a drug to control ovulation, and finally the process of the actual fertilization. He already had a willing donor—a second year medical student who was 6’2” tall, weighing 185 pounds with brown hair and blue eyes, pretty close to my description. He gave us a timetable and prescriptions for the drugs and hypodermic needles. We agreed that I’d inject Rita every morning, at lunch, and again once we had returned home. The next month was spent checking the calendar and setting alarms, giving injections, and loving my wife even ...