The Donor 6


By Katzmarek


The phone by Jonathon's bedside beeped urgently. Jonathon's brain willed it to go away but it's shrill 
sound persisted. Eventually he reached for the handset.
"Yeah?" he said
"Jonathon is that you? You sound drunk. Have you been into that horrible sherry again?"
"Um Joanne," he replied, "no it's early, I was asleep." He looked at the clock. "It's 5.00 in the morning."
"Is it? It's 8.00 at night here. I'm in my hotel overlooking Lake Geneva. It's still light. the lake looks 
beautiful, Jonathon. I wish you were here."


"Good Joanne," Jonathon mumbled.
"Oh come on! Show some enthusiasm. It really is a picture."
"Sorry. um."
"Jonathon, I meant what I said. I do wish you were here. I. I miss you."
"I miss you too, Joanne."
"What do you miss about me, Jonathon?"
"Huh?" Jonathon asked.


"What do you miss about me? It's not a hard question. Or is it? Have you gone off me already?"
"No, no. It's just. I'm not really awake yet. it's early," Jonathon stumbled.
"Will wake up then."
"Ok."
"You can go back to sleep later."
"Ok."
"So what do you miss about me?"
"Um. let me think."
"Don't take all day. My credit card has a limit you know."
"It does?"


"I didn't ring you to discuss my credit, Jonathon. Answer my fucking question," Joanne continued.
"Ok. sure."
"You're bloody hopeless." Her voice dropped a little, "how's your cock?"
"How's my what?"
"Your cock, Jonathon. That thing between your legs, how is it?"
"Ok, I guess," he said.
"Is it hard?" she asked.
"A little. always is in the morning."
"Good. Put your hand on it."
"Eh?"
"Shut up and just do it."
"Ok."


"Now! Think of me, Jonathon," Joanne commanded.
"Ok."
"Imagine my mouth. my tongue. imagine I'm going to suck you."
"Yes," Jonathon said, thickly.
"Think of me going down on you. sliding you into my mouth. would you like that?"
"Yes."
"Are you harder now, Jonathon?"
"Very."
"Then rub it for me.
"I am, Joanne."
"What would you like me to do? Do you know what I'm doing to myself now?"
"Are you touching yourself?" asked Jonathon.
"Oh yes, sugar. I have my hand between my legs. squeezing my thighs together. I'm so horny, 
Jonathon. I miss your. cock. your hard cock."


"I'm horny too. now, Joanne. I want to suck your tits. finger your pussy," Jonathon's mouth was dry.
"Yes. I have to sit down. my legs are rubbery. that's better.  I'm lying on the bed, now. I'm wearing 
a bath robe, Jonathon, my green one."
"Really!"
"Yes and I'm naked underneath. I'm stroking myself now, babe. Are you stroking your hard cock, 
Jonathon?" Joanne panted.
"Yes. keep talking."
"Put it in me. slide it in. it's juicy and ready for you.Would you like to fuck me, Jonathon?"
"Yes. god yes. keep going."
"Hold on. I need to put the phone down." she said desperately.
"Joanne. Joanne. are you there?" Jonathon called into the phone.


A few minutes later, Joanne comes back on the phone,
"That's better!" she said, blowing.
"It is?"
"Yes. thanks babe. I needed that. nothing like a good orgasm after a hard day of meetings," she said 
breezily.
"What about me? I haven't finished," Jonathon whined.
"Oh you'll manage. You've had lots of practice. I'd better get dressed for dinner. Bye."
"Joanne!" he said but the phone was dead.


Jonathon was angry. It lasted all day, surprisingly for a man so easy-going. He put in a day's work at the 
radio station composing a series of biscuit ads. Even the banality of the exercise didn't make the anger 
dissipate.


It angered him that she took him for granted. It angered him that she trod all over his feelings. It angered 
him when she bossed him about and it enraged him when she wakes him at 5 o'clock in the morning.


After work he caught the bus around to Joanne's house. For years he'd watched the over-rich banker's sons 
circulating around town in their Alfas and Beemers, impressing the giggly teenage girls and sneering out of 
the window. He'd a mind to play out a little fantasy. Like those `wish for a day' shows.


In his pocket the keys felt like they were burning a hole. He pushed the little remote attached to the key 
ring and the garage door creaked and groaned as it responded. The inside light flicked on and Jonathon 
found himself staring at the shiny white sports car with a gun-sight on the grill.


Jonathon headed into town down the coast road. The big Mercedes turbo whispered and hummed along 
with a sound and look that spoke of wealth and extravagance. At least that's what Jonathon hoped.


He'd driven around the town for a half-hour or so before he'd realised he'd hadn't eaten. Pulling over by a 
takeaway he noticed a group of teenagers nearby. They were all in various stages of intoxication and 
playing the usual games of `watch me watching you.'


While waiting for his order, Jonathon caught snippets of a nearby hushed conversation.
". Half a million bucks at least. latest model. V8 turbo. goes like stink. cool!"
Jonathon peered across at the whisperers. A young guy with two girls.


The guy was dressed in a pair of `baggies' two sizes too large. The girls, tight tops with bare midriffs, 
bottle-blond hair and `spray-on' jeans. The girls looked to be sisters, a pair of teenage foxes, Jonathon 
concluded. The older sister had a hand draped around the guy.


"Cool car," the guy tells Jonathon, slurring a little.
"Thanks," replied Jonathon.
"Take us for a ride?" the older girl asked.
"Ok, sure," Jonathon found himself saying.


The older sister and the guy were squeezed into the back, the younger one was playing with the CD player.
"Got anything ragey?" the girl, asked.
"Motorhead?"
"Alright!" the guy responded.


`The ace of spades, the ace of spades,' Lemmy's croaking voice blasted out from the speakers as they 
headed on down the coast. The teenagers were thrashing their heads around to the music, in between taking 
swigs out of a soft-drink bottle clearly spiked with vodka.


Under such circumstances conversation was difficult. Jonathon did manage to find out the guy's name was 
Toby, 19, the older girl Charli, the younger Trisha. Charli, Jonathon found out was 18, her younger sister 
16. Toby and Charli lived together, Trisha was staying with them for the weekend. Toby and Charli had 
been going out, `like forever' and had moved in together after Charli left school. 


Both the girls were, `very well packaged,' Jonathon thought, that emphasised there trim little teenage 
bodies.


Jonathon bought them some `alcopop' from a liquor store. They suggested he take them back to their 
apartment and `have a party' with them. Jonathon didn't mind, they were better company than Roxy the cat 
and the girls were way more picturesque.


The apartment was messier than his. A pair of huge PA speakers dominated the lounge and the posters on 
the wall were of motorbikes and heavy rock groups. The seating consisted of a pair of `Salvation Army' 
sofas that had frankly seen better days. Toby and Charli took one sofa, Jonathon and Trisha, the other.


Soon some `Creed' or some such was blasting out of the speakers, again making conversation impossible. 
They sat around drinking the `alcopop' while Toby began rolling joints. The booze was a mixture of Vodka 
and Lime that Jonathon once knew as a Gimlet, but now was called ` Stinger'.  After a bottle of the stuff 
Jonathon began to feel himself relaxing, his inhibitions slipping away.


Certainly Toby and Charli's inhibitions were dissolving for they were soon in a passionate clinch. Jonathon 
felt Trisha keeling over slightly to rest on his shoulder. He thought she looked a bit the worse for wear from 
the booze and the dope. Occasionally she would have a fit of the giggles at such time she'd place a hand on 
his chest. A mixture of scent, shampoo and lime assailed his nostrils.


At some point in the inebriation process there's a point when Jonathon starts too feel horny, while his 
normal inhibitions are not working to full capacity. Pacing himself better then his teen company he knew 
when that point was reached and any more alcohol would just make the room start to spin. So at that point 
Jonathon set the bottle aside and concentrated on his female company.


The CD finished. Jonathon looked across at his hosts and found they had disappeared. Trish was still 
leaning on him, giggling to herself. 
`A little cuddling would hurt, would it?' he told himself. After all it wasn't like he had to chase her around 
the room. She might even be persuaded to help him relieve the stiffness in his pants.


He gently lifted up her face to give her one of his `passion specials.' Her tongue immediately thrust pass his 
teeth and her lips threatened to suck in his whole face. Jonathon reeled, but held on for the ride. Her arm 
curled behind his head increasing the pressure.


Jonathon looked into the `too perfect' little teenage face. Trisha's eyes looked a little glazed and she had 
trouble focussing however the way her chest was heaving signaled to Jonathon that she was more than 
willing for a little more. He suppressed the thought that she might not be fully capable of consenting.


"Yawanna stay?" she slurred.
"For a bit," he replied.
"Your cute, for an ol' guy," she cooed.
"Thanks. You're quite a fox."
She giggled in response.


"D'yer think this suits me, it's my sssister's," she asked, smoothing a hand over her chest. Jonathon's eyes 
followed her hand as her little tits jiggled.
"Perfectly!" Jonathon replied, boldly following her hand with his own. She responded with more giggling.
"Yer don' think I look tarty?"
"Not at all," he answered, cupping one of her little beauties.


As she began to giggle again, Jonathon kissed her once more. After a while he became aware that her 
enthusiasm was fading. Jonathon withdrew his mouth to look at her face and realised she was on the point 
of passing out.
"Trisha!" he called. Her only response was to mumble something.
 

Jonathon gently lowered her to the arm of the sofa. Her head was lolling about. Jonathon stood up, 
preparing to leave.
"Hey! Yergoin'," she said suddenly.
"Yes, I better. You're wasted."
"No, don'go, ssorry. jusss tired issall," she mumbled.


Jonathon made to leave, but again Trisha called to him.
"Hel' me up? Gotta go t'bed."
Jonathon helped her up from the sofa
"Hel' meup sstairs?" she asked.
"Ok, where's your room?"
"Up'ere," she indicated.


Jonathon assisted the drunken girl up the stairs to her room. They got inside and he deposited her on the 
bed. Next door he could hear the banging of a bedhead against the wall and the creaking of springs. He 
listened for a bit. He felt himself stiffen to the sound of the muffled cries of Trisha's big sister.


Under the twin assault of the alcohol and Charli's sexy cries Jonathon's gentlemanly restraint began to 
crumble. He rationalised that he couldn't leave the semi-comatose young girl in her tight clothing. He 
began to undo her top.


Trisha seemed to be assisting him by turning so he could pull her top over her head.  Her bra followed, well 
he had to make her comfortable, didn't he? Her breast just fitted snugly into the palm of his hand, he had to 
check! He bent down to taste her little puckered nipple. Trisha gave a little shake.


Next, Jonathon figured he'd better loosen her jeans as well. It was a struggle, they were very tight, but with 
her occasional assistance her managed to get them off. The front of her panties was soaked, her girl-thighs 
invited exploration but that damned conscience intervened and he tucked her under the cover. Just as he 
turned to go he saw Charli standing in the doorway.


"Are you going?" she asked. Jonathon saw she was wearing a large T-shirt that finished just below her 
pussy.
"Yes. I just put Trisha to bed, she was wasted," he said a little guiltily.
"Thanks, um. what's your name?"
"Jonathon."
"Oh, that's right. Well thanks for a great night, Jonathon. It was fun. You can come back anytime. Trisha 
really likes you."
"Sure," Jonathon found himself answering.
"She likes older guys."
"Thanks," he replied doubtfully.
"Not that you're that old. I mean."
"I know. I need to take a leak."
"Ok, that way."
As he passed the girl she put her arm around him and kissed him on the mouth.
"That's for not fucking her," she whispered.


As Jonathon drove back at least he could feel he'd done the right think after all. It didn't take away his 
horniness, however.


Once home he looked at the time, 2am. He dialed up Joanne's mobile. Her voice came on straight away,
"Hi, this is Joanne. I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave a message and a number, I will get 
back to you as soon as I can. BEEP."
"Hello, Joanne," Jonathon said, "this is Jonathon. If I were there right now I'd come up behind you and pull 
those panties down. I'll then shove my hand between your legs and fiddle with your pussy until you're nice 
and soaked. Then I will push my hard cock up you and fuck you until you can't come anymore. From 
behind, over your desk, by the window so everyone can see. See me fucking the life out of you until I've 
pumped every ounce of my sperm right up you. Have a nice day." He chuckled to himself as he rang off.


His phone rang some 2 hours later. He was still awake listening to music.
"Jonathon, don't you dare leave a message like that on my phone. I nearly choked on dessert," Joanne told 
him.
"Serves you right for leaving me up in the air."
"Well I'm sorry," she said unconvincingly, "I'm busy here, I can't always cater for your. needs."
"But I've got to cater for yours?" 
"Well, if you don't like it."
"Y'know, I nearly fucked a 16 year old blond tonight."
"Oh sure! Why didn't you? Did the farmer want her for shearing?"
"Fuck you! Joanne," Jonathon replied angrily.
"Fuck you too!" she replied, ringing off.


Not for the first time, Jonathon threw the phone across the room.









