The Old Fashion Way - Sex Stories

The Old Fashion Way

... the best athlete in a generation was monumentally thoughtless when it came to the plight of others. The gifted scientist was so single minded he could not achieve anything out of his specialty. "He couldn't put gas in his own car," someone said

Was this going to be a 'pick the least negative' type of thing? Was it going to be a matter of finding the least offensive, or starting all over again? Was it a fact of life, however, that all of us have a weakness that would disqualify us for a list of this type? Was this just what humans were like? Was looking for the best sperm provider a matter of also accepting the worst?

She wanted my input, but my honest answer had to be you could get the top in one thing and the bottom in something else. Was it a personality decision? Could it be that simple or that uncomplicated? When people listed their skills and talents at a fertility clinic did they just ignore their weaknesses? Of course. No one says, "I am really very bright, but I am also terribly shy, uncoordinated, or quick tempered."

The list of men we put together showed how the best sperm providers were not necessarily superior in everything. We decided to wait to make a choice, let her check further and do more research to find the best candidate, and we would put together another list of men. She still wanted to do it the natural way, and I supported what she wanted, even though I didn't fully understand why she objected to artificial insemination.

The second group ...

... of men were much like the first, but there was one candidate who had not one single negative mentioned by those who had evaluated him. He was a college athlete from Los Angeles, was six foot three, had won scholarship awards in high school, was senior class president, and he was black. Not one person rated him lower than five on a six point scale in anything.

He was listed as subject #421 and he could be reached by email at naturalway421@donor.com. Claire looked at me and shrugged. I took her in my arms and told her I would support whatever she wanted to do. "I think I want to meet 421," she said.

We sent the email and gave our own as well as her cell phone number. That afternoon her cell phone played Uptown Girl, which was her ringtone and the caller ID just said 421. "Hello," she said timidly.

"This is subject 421, did someone here inquire about a emission donor?" the person asked in a deep male voice, deep but soft. She left it on speaker and the voice sounded pleasant and educated to me. She said she had sent the message and asked if it would be possible for us to meet to discuss it.

He directed us to a Starbucks on Pacific and said to be there at ten that morning and he would be at table eight. I wondered if he would asked anyone already at table eight to move. Table eight was outside and none of the outside tables were taken except that one.

A black man in a brown suit coat was sitting at eight and stood up as we approached. "I am Julian," he said putting ...