The Donor4


By Katzmarek



This is entirely a work of fiction and to my knowledge original. If I have plagiarised any part it is 
accidental and the author would appreciate the pointing out of the error of his ways. Please! I am not the 
British Intelligence Establishment.
It is written as a work of erotic fiction so, obviously, if you have an issue with that then, 
www.cartoonnetwork.com was probably what you were looking for, young lad.





Jonathon Wetherall gradually became aware of the errant ray of light insinuating itself through a little gap 
in the curtain. He felt it tickling his eyelid and he knew if he prised his eye open it would dazzle him. It 
took the shrill beep of the phone by his bedside to jerk him fully aware.


Jonathon tried to grab it while still keeping his eyes shut. First his glass of water, then the ashtray tumbled 
to the floor. Eventually he had to open his eyes and grab the phone.
“Yeah? Um, Jonathon here, aw shit.”
“Shit who, Jonathon? You make a woman feel wanted?
“Oh, hi Joanne,” he said, “I, I just dropped my ashtray and a glass of water and now there’s a hell of a mess 
to clean up.”
“Good exercise for you,” replied Joanne, “it’s time you kept normal hours anyway.”


“Are you sure you’ve never been a musician”? Joanne went on.
“Why?”
“Late nights, sleeping through the morning…”
“I learnt the banjo once,” Jonathon said.
“Banjo? Why?”
“Well, there was this bit of music I heard once. I wanted to learn it so I bought a fly-string.”
“And did you learn it?”
“Nah, the strings were too rough on my fingers. So I took up the drums.”
“And?”
“No co-ordination between hands and feet.”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but, what next?”
“Electric Guitar. I lost my apartment because of the noise.”
“Jonathon,” Joanne sighed, “ you crack me up!”


“Now, honey,” Joanne continued, “I’d better hurry because I have a meeting in a few minutes. I think we 
need to start looking around for a proper job for you.”
“Proper job? I have a job…”
“Writing copy? Give me a break! How much does it pay?”
“Depends on my hours. Sometimes I can get a week’s work in one go.”
“So! Does that mean they have you as a private contractor?”
“Um, Yes. They call me in when they need me.”
“Good lord! Do me a favour?”
“What?”
“Don’t try to make a living as a contracts lawyer, you’ll starve, ok?”


“I’ll be late tonight, around 10ish. I’ll pick you up, ok?” Joanne said.
“I may be busy,” Jonathon replied.
“How long does it take to feed the cat? See you tonight.”


Jonathon dabbed at the mixture that had now turned to a black slime, with a cloth. Roxy the cat had long 
given up her curiosity and had re-occupied Jonathon’s place in the bed.
“I shouldn’t let her do it,” he told the uninterested cat, “she treats me like a cross between a servant and a 
third-world relief project.”
Roxy adjusted herself to catch the last vestige of Jonathon’s body-heat.




After the first night, the post-coital glow had lasted fully three days. She’d gone when he’d woken up and 
there was a note on the nightstand with $50 pinned to it. It said,
‘Jonathon,
I need a shower and a change of clothes.
Take the 50 and buy a new Duvet, you can almost see through it.
I’ll call you. 
Joanne’.


‘So utterly Joanne’ he thought when he read the note. It didn’t stifle the silly grin, though. It remained with 
him for the rest of the week. There was definitely something in his character that enjoyed being bossed 
about.


Then there was the sex. She’d been like a dam bursting, releasing a flood of sexual feelings. Despite telling 
him that’
‘It never did much for me,’ and, ‘don’t expect the Karma Sutra,’ as soon as Jonathon’s tongue found her 
clitoris, she couldn’t get enough of it.


Jonathon didn’t consider himself a sexual athlete, far from it. But he figured half the pleasure in sex was in 
the giving. So he’d always taken care of his partners. Not that there’d been that many. But because he’d 
had few lovers, he’d treated each one as special.




The doorbell rang about 10.40pm. Joanne looked a little breathless.
“I’m sorry, I’m running late, got your toothbrush?” she said.
“Um, yes, I mean no, er just a minute.”
Jonathon scrambled for his overnight bag.


“Damned Minister!” Joanne grumbled in the car, “ I’m sure he only wanted to keep me there so he could 
peer up my skirt.”
“Close your legs.”
“Huh! I never thought I’d hear YOU say that.”


“Now Jonathon,” Joanne continued, “have you any University qualifications or Trade Certificates, even.”
“Um, Ph.D.?” Jonathon answered.
“Ph.D.? What! You’re kidding me, what in?”
“History, Pre-European.”
“You’ve a Doctorate in History and you’re writing copy for a Radio Station?”
“Um, yeah.”


Jonathon explained that he’d liked University and hadn’t wanted to leave. So he’d kept on accumulating 
degrees and supporting himself through teaching. The day came, however, when there wasn’t anything left 
to do except become a Professor and he couldn’t stand the repetition of teaching the same old stuff, year in 
year out.


“Do you realise you could have spent the last 15 years heading some Government Research Unit earning 
three hundred grand for getting drunk with Senior Ministers?” Joanne explained.
“Um, I guess.”
“We just need to train you to lie.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Oh yes, honey, all the time.”
“With your legs open?”
She was laughing when she dug him in the ribs.


“Bakhmi gorang?”
“I wondered what the aroma was,” replied Jonathon as they entered number 12.
“I picked some up on the way home. That Indonesian Restaurant downtown makes up some for me when I 
work late.”
“You have to have it with Singapore Tiger beer,” Jonathon explained.
“Of course,” replied Joanne, “right here, and lakhsi for afterwards.”
Jonathon thought he had died and gone to heaven.


Joanne’s lounge looked like a display in one of those big department stores. Everything had been neatly 
arranged to create an impression. Jonathon sat down carefully on the pristine sofa lest he disturb the dust. 
He needn’t have bothered as even the dust did what it was told.


Joanne’s idea of eating takeaways was to lay the punnet carefully on the glass top of the coffee table and 
spread a white napkin over her knees. The beer was on a coaster, a cloth was handy for those unexpected 
spills. To Jonathon, it was an alien world.


The food, though, was divine and Jonathon savoured each morsel. He didn’t mind when Joanne reached 
across to wipe a speck from the corner of his mouth. 


“That was excellent,” said Jonathon sipping on his lakhsi. The fizzy yogurt shake taking the edge off the 
chili.
“I’ve never seen anyone bolt chili down that quickly before. Have you got any taste buds left?” Joanne 
asked him.
“It’s a technique. I have a few quick mouthfuls until the burning becomes too much, then I have a swallow 
of the lager. The lakhsi then restores the palette afterwards. How do you handle it?”
“Simple! I told the restaurant to hold the chili for me. I ordered extra for you to see if you’d flinch.”
“And did I?”
“No, I might have known.”


Joanne stretched herself in an exaggerated gesture.
“Right, get your buns upstairs. I have a couple of calls to make,” she said.
“What! At this time?”
“Time zones. The Yanks are finishing work and the Poms are having their morning tea.”
“Oh right!”
“Git!”


Jonathon made his way up the stairs to the Joanne’s bedroom. Like the lounge, it looked like a display 
window. Everything was carefully in its place with not even a ruffled doily. He looked around wondering 
where he should drop his clothes. He decided eventually to fold them neatly over the chair by the dresser.


As Jonathon lay in bed waiting for Joanne he absently checked the cover to see if he’d ruffled it too much. 
He left the bedside lamp on dim. He wanted to watch the show when Joanne came up.


A half an hour later Joanne appears.
“You awake?” she asked.
“Of course,” Jonathon answered.
“Don’t get you hopes up tonight, Jonathon, I’m too tired, it’s been a long day.”
“Ok,” he mumbled.
“Oh! Put away that bottom lip.”


Jonathon didn’t get much of a show. Joanne picked his clothes up from the chair and put them away in the 
wardrobe, he noted that for future reference. She then took some pajamas and went into the en-suite to 
change. He listened to her brushing her teeth and washing.


When she re-appeared he watched her walk towards the bed in her green PJs. He liked the way her full 
breasts wobbled under the fabric, the way the material clung between her legs. He was instantly erect and 
he wanted her.


Joanne eased herself into bed and bent to kiss Jonathon. Jonathon tried to hold her lips to his, to get her to 
accept his tongue. She pulled back with difficulty.
“Easy big boy,” she said, “ maybe tomorrow morning, I’m going in late.”
“I want you,” whispered Jonathon.
“Yes, I know. The mind might be willing but the body isn’t. C‘mon, put your arms around me, you can 
spoon me.”
Jonathon put his arms around her, his hands agonisingly close to her breasts.
“Jonathon! Put that thing away will you, it’s bruising me.”
“It’s got a mind of it’s own,” he replied.
“I doubt ‘mind’ is the word.”


Jonathon eventually got his erection under control. He listened to Joanne’s breathing for a while, took in 
the smell of her shampoo. After a while he whispered,
“Joanne?”
When there was no answer he began to slide his hand down towards Joanne’s breasts. Just before he 
reached the ‘Holy Grail’, her hand intercepted his and pushed it away.
“Get off, go to sleep,” she mumbled.


“Question?” Jonathon said.
“Oh no! Not this game again. Go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well I am.”
“You can sleep in.”
“I didn’t have ‘sleep’ planned for the morning. If you want your jollies you’d better get some sleep.”
“I love you.”
“Oh rubbish! Jonathon, you haven’t known me five minutes.”


“Something I’m curious about,” said Jonathon.
“Save it to the morning.”
“What did your dad do to you?”
“Jonathon! Why do you want to know that stuff for?”						     
“Curious.”
“What do you think he did? He felt me up, now for the last time, good night.”
“Goodnight.”
Jonathon snuggled into the warm body in front of him and tried to go to sleep.




The first thing Jonathon became aware of was the smell of roses. It pervaded the bed linen and the pillow 
beneath his head. His arm was still outstretched in front of him but the body it had enclosed had 
disappeared. His hearing sense was immediately on alert.


He thought he detected the faint sounds of activity, the banging of cupboards far off in the distance. Then 
someone talking, Joanne’s voice but muffled. The voice grew in clarity accompanied by the thump of feet 
climbing the stairs.
“… Told me that report would be ready… No you gave me that excuse George… I need that yesterday… 
That’s right… Oh you’d better, this time… Goodbye George.”


Joanne blew into the bedroom, clearly unhappy. She set a tray containing two mugs on the nightstand.
“C’mon, wake up Jonathon.” Her voice had that ‘edge’. Jonathon sat up and accepted the coffee.
“Anything the matter?” Jonathon asked, concerned.
“Just work… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Joanne. I care about you, you know.”
“Yes, I know sugar. I’m just not used to it. You have to have patience with me.”


They sat up in bed together drinking their coffees. Joanne stared straight ahead, deep in thought.
“Y’know, I envy you in a way,” she eventually told him, “you’ve no-one looking over your shoulder. No-
one to answer to, or for.”
“I guess.”
“No pressure. I’ve never had that… my whole life… there’s always been pressure.” Jonathon shrugged.
“I sometimes wonder what life might have been like if I hadn’t been so… focussed, y’know.”


Joanne put down her mug and leaned closer.
“He started by touching my titties,” she suddenly said.
“What? Who?” replied Jonathon.
“Dad. Here give me your hand… like this, see?”
Joanne took Jonathon’s hand and put it over her nipple.


“He said they would grow bigger, like mum’s. He was right.”
“Oh.”
“He played with them, pinched them. Made them stand up.”
Jonathon began to pinch her nipple.
“He was gentle, always. He put his mouth on it, kissed and licked it. Jonathon,” Joanne said exposing her 
right breast, “kiss my titty?”


Jonathon bent to the task, flicking her nipple with the point of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. 
He carefully traced her swelling flesh with his fingertips.
“We could buy a house-bus and live on the beach for 6 months,” he told her. “I could make jewelry… hand 
printed cards… sell them at fairs…”
“What… uh… would I do?”
“I don’t know… make apple wine… If it was no good… we could run the bus on the stuff…”
“Can you see me… uh… as a hippie? Peasant dresses and… uh… love beads?”
“Sure! We could fuck… under the… stars.”
“The other one… needs attention.”


Jonathon took the proffered left breast and repeated the procedure.
“Take my… hand,” Joanne breathlessly ordered. “Show me your… dickie. Will I grow a dickie?”
“Huh? Um, no… Here,” Jonathon said, placing her hand on his hard cock. Joanne slowly began to jerk him.
“Oh, it’s all hard… and warm… and sticky… on the top…Why haven’t I got one?”
‘Because… because… oh that feels good…” Jonathon panted. “Because… you have a… pussy instead… 
Here… inside your pants… where I have my dickie… see?” He pushed his hand down the front of Joanne’s 
PJ’s.
“So hot in here… I’ll have to take off… my pajamas,” Joanne purred as Jonathon lightly stroked her moist 
slit.


Jonathon lay on top of Joanne, his erection nestled along the folds of Joanne’s pussy. He bent down to kiss 
her passionately again, open mouths, tongues swirling, playing with each other. His face inches from her he 
whispered,
“Can we play grown-up games now?”
“What games… did you have… in mind, Jonathon?”
“I want … to be inside you… now,” he whispered.
“Don’t ask… do it.”


Joanne kneaded Jonathon’s arse cheeks, trying to pull him deeper into herself. Jonathon was very horny 
and was desperately trying to pace himself.  It didn’t help that Joanne was whispering in his ear,
“Yes… like that… that’s right… a bit harder…”
Instead he started moving from side to side and around, trying to lessen the friction. Joanne was trying to 
follow, humping back at him.
“Um… can we try… something else… I’m ready to blow… need to cool off…” Jonathon gasped.
“Oh! Don’t come yet…. What did you… have in mind…”
“Reverse… you on top…”
“Ok… get off.”


Joanne sat on Jonathon’s thighs playing with his erection.
“You’re enjoying yourself, you’re in charge,” he said.
“You prefer to pin the lady down, then? Whose power trip is that?”
“Actually I don’t mind you pinning ME down. I get a nice view.”
“Voyeur! You’re leering!”
“So what!” Jonathon said, “you’ve got such a nice body.”
“It’s female, Jonathon, that’s all.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Oh rubbish!”


Joanne rubbed the tip of Jonathon’s penis up and down her slit before carefully easing him inside her. Once 
she had him full inside she began to move backwards and forwards.
“Put your hands… on my bottom… like that,” she told him.
Jonathon stroked her cheeks while watching her swaying breasts, dangling in front of him.
“Did daddy enjoy this too?” He asked.
“Pervert! Actually, we… never fucked…uh… squeeze me… uh…”
Joanne began to move faster, backwards and forwards, but with an up and down movement as well. She 
then moved forward on her haunches and stroked rapidly down on him before stopping and resuming her 
previous movement.
“That’s better… uh… you were going soft…”


Jonathon grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her down. Joanne opened her mouth to say something but 
was silenced as Jonathon thrust his tongue between her teeth. She eagerly frenched him back. Jonathon 
rolled her over on her back and re-inserted himself. He gave her a series of rapid-fire strokes that left her 
panting for breath.
“Oo… assertive!” she told him in mock admiration. Jonathon withdrew. “Hey! Finish what you… started.”
“Over,” he ordered.
“What are you going to do?”
“On your hands and knees, C’mon,” Jonathon said firmly.


“You watch where you put that thing. I don’t do kinky, Jonathon,” Joanne said as he moved behind her.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, running his hands over her back and bottom.
“You would! Uh… that’s not the right place.”
“Just teasing…there… that better?” he said pushing himself into her from behind.
“Much… good… put your hand there… rub me… yes… like that…” Joanne instructed.


They soon found a rhythm, Joanne stabbed back at Jonathon, matching his thrusting. Jonathon’s fingers 
drummed on her clitoris in time, making her gasp and moan with pleasure. Jonathon watched the arch of 
the body in front of him, now glistening with perspiration, undulating, twisting in excitement. The hair 
hanging down, loose from its usual bindings, some strands clinging to her back.


Jonathon increased his speed and power, sensing an impending orgasm. Joanne gripped the headboard with 
one hand to steady herself.
“Go easy… uh… oh… your driving me… uh… into… the wall… oo…”


He was soon reaching the point of no return and gripped Joanne’s backside with two hands, driving himself 
deeper and faster.
“Oh... god,” Joanne groaned with increasing urgency, “that’s it… more…” Her breathing became sporadic 
as Jonathon pistoned into her, ready to explode. 


He let fly, not being able to hold back any longer. As he groaned out his orgasm, Joanne urged him to 
continue,
“Nearly… keep going…” Jonathon found her again with his fingers and rubbed her until she stiffened with 
her own crisis. The breath exploded from her, she jammed back on his dick, trying to get every millimetre 
inside her.
“OHHHH…FUCK…OHHHHH,” she hollered and flopped onto her tummy.


Jonathon lay down beside her, a hand draped over her shoulders.
“Should have put… a towel down.” Joanne said eventually.
“Eh! Why?”
“Stains… the sheets…”
“Fuck the sheets… buy some more,” Jonathon replied lazily.
“I should hire you as my Accountant,” replied Joanne, ruffling his hair.








































