Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 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.  Noone 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.