DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

It's late 1983 and my ship has just changed homeports from Virginia to California. I'm 23, single, and barely making enough in the Navy to keep a car on the road. Unlike Virginia, the cost of living in northern California means renting an apartment in the Bay Area, even with a couple of shipmates, is out of the question.

The trouble is no one wants to live aboard the ship. Would you want to live in the office or factory you work in? So we all start hitting the dating treadmill hoping to find women to shack up with. I got lucky, I thought, when I 'found' Donna. It turned out she got lucky when she found me because she was out looking for reasons of her own.

Our first few meetings occur in a local bar, we go the movies a couple times, she has me over for dinner. It's the usual routine except she lets me fuck her from almost the beginning. The second time I bumped into her at the dance club, she lets me bang her in the back seat of her car. I'm young, dumb, and full of cum which also happened to be her top three requirements in a man.

Within a month, I've moved into her apartment in the Oakland hills. Every night I'm not on duty, I'm pumping away in her. Being an idiot, I'm convinced I'm the luckiest guy in the world. She's letting me stay with her, I'm paying no rent, kicking in some for food, and she's letting me in her panties anytime I wish. It's heaven I'm thinking.

I got to do things I'd never been able to do with the young women I'd slept with before (Donna was about 5 or 6 years older than me). She'd blow me on request, let me put through positions I'd only seen in porn movies, let me fuck her a couple times a day, let me jump her in the kitchen, bathroom, living room, all of it.

The whole time I'm utterly clueless. She'll blow me whenever I want, but always tries to insist that I dump the load in her pussy instead of her mouth. She says she 'likes' that feeling better and I, if I'm not too far along, usually do so. The first few times we had sex I dragged out a condom and mumbled something about birth control being my responsibility too. She said she was on the Pill and I didn't need to wrap it. I never bothered again.

A couple of months went by with me lounging around her apartment thinking I was the resident 'stud'. Then her attitude begins to change. She wants me to pay some rent, I do. She slows down our sex life, I grumble and comply. She asks me about my family, weird stuff like who's still alive and how did people die. I'm worrying she's thinking about marriage. When she finally asks me to move out, I'm very relieved.

We still get together on weekends when I don't have duty and she still fucks my brains out, but something has changed. I'm happy 'cause I'm at least getting some pussy regularly and don't think about things too much.

About four months after meeting Donna, my ship deploys. I say goodbye to Donna. We both promise to write and call when we can. I drop her a few letters from Hawaii, get nothing in return, and figure it's over. I'm gone for close to eight months.

When the ship pulls back in, I call Donna a couple times and only get her answering machine. My first weekend back, I drive out to her apartment and ring the bell. She answers and invites me in. Things in the apartment have changed. You can tell immediately there is a baby there; the smell, clothing, furniture, etc. I'm so fucking stupid I don't automatically figure it out.

Donna tells me she doesn't want to date me anymore, that she needs a man who will be there for her, etc., etc. I take it well 'cause I don't want anything to do with a kid! What an idiot! She says she'll be moving up to Petaluma in a few months for a better job and asks if I'll help. I say sure. We chat for a while and she slowly manuevers me towards the door.

We're saying goodbye when my moron pills wear off. I realize that the kid is mine! The shock and panic must have been written all across my face. Donna smiles, nods, and tells me that, yes, 'Billy' is my son. (I changed the name.) She quickly adds that I needn't worry about marriage, child support, or anything else. All she needed or wanted from me was the baby. I'd been a live-in sperm donor for nearly three months without suspecting a thing.

I can't wait to get out of there and Donna can't wait to see me leave. I hustle off saying I'll call her about helping with the move (I never did.) The last thing I remember of her is her waving from the door.

I never saw the baby.

For several months after that I'm real gun-shy with women. I pick up my share, but rarely fuck them and then only with a condom. I keep fearing Donna is going to contact my command and garnish my pay. (The military makes damn sure you pay alimony, child support, and all the rest.) After a while my fears subside and, when I'm discharged in '87 and leave the West Coast, I rarely even think about Donna and baby. And the years went by.

Now I'm in my forties. I've never been married, never fathered any other children I'm aware of, and I think of Donna and her baby more and more. She was looking for someone like me, just as I was looking for someone like I thought she was. She got what she needed and I thought I got what I needed. Still, I wonder. There's a twenty something out there somewhere I wish I had been adult enough to meet and take responsibility for when the opportunity presented itself.