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