Glencross Manor - Ruth's Story

With his assurance that it was okay for me to proceed, I once again reached out to him. His chest felt soft and smooth under my fingers, yet firm and muscular at the same time. His masculine power contrasted with the softness of his skin. His nipples felt firm under my fingers as I grazed over them. I let my hand wander down along his flanks and around to his lower back. All the while, Richard just stood there motionless as he allowed me to inspect him. It reminded me of a scene from a TV show I remembered from a few years earlier, about gladiators in Ancient Rome. In that particular scene, a woman, the wife of a respected member of the senate, was inspecting one of the champion gladiators whilst he stood naked before her. I had found that particular scene to be quite arousing at the time, and now here I was, practically reenacting it in real life! One one level, it felt a little wrong, as though I was taking advantage of him, but on the other hand, he had granted me his permission to explore him, so the slightly wanton side of me won the argument inside my head.

His hips and his buttocks felt as firm and soft as his chest, and I smiled as I felt him squeeze his gluteal muscles as my hand stroked his derrière. Part of me wanted to plunge my fingers into the cleft that separated his cheeks, but with self restraint I resisted the temptation.

My hand returned around his slim waist and briefly circled his belly button, and then, looking him in the eye to gauge his reaction, I allowed my hand to wander downwards.

Richard gasped and looked me right in the eye as I took hold of his penis. His expression was a little surprised, but at the same time did not give any hint that my touch was unwelcome. If anything, his face was telling me to take it further if I wanted to. Which I did want to - a lot.

Looking down, I saw his penis cradled in my outstretched hand. It looked so vulnerable, yet at the same time it exuded naked masculinity in all its wondrously hypnotic glory. I loved the dichotomy that the male genitalia presented: so tender and vulnerable in one state, yet firm and powerful in the other. I felt it twitch in my hand, announcing to me that it would engorge itself should I continue to caress it. With my other hand, I cupped his smoothly shaven scrotal sac, feeling his orbs inside.

I looked back up at him to see that his gaze was squared directly down to where my hands were groping him so wantonly. The expression on his face had changed to a look of mild concern, and I realised the power I had over him at that moment. All it would take was a firm squeeze and I could cause him to suffer extreme pain. By allowing me to hold his vulnerable manhood in my hands, Richard was showing me that he had total trust in me not to harm him.

Feeling warmth growing in my hand, I returned my gaze to his penis, which by then had become fully, and rather magnificently, erect. I was no 'size queen' when it came to being fussy about the size of a man's penis, but I was in no doubt that it would feel wonderful inside me. I estimated it to be at least seven inches - possibly even more.

I gently eased his foreskin back, revealing his smooth pink glans to the open air. It was his sensual hypercentre, the focus of his sexual being, the most sensitive and sexually responsive part of his entire body, and I felt truly privileged to be able to gaze upon and to touch it. I spent several long moments just appreciating it, with its flared coronal ridge and its tiny mouthlike meatus at the very tip. Through that tiny orifice, his sperm would be delivered inside me to do their work and fertilise me.

I knew from that moment without any uncertainty whatsoever, that this man would definitely be the father of my child. This gentle man, whose body positively exuded masculinity from every pore of his naked body, so strong and powerful, yet at the same time so gentle and benevolent. If I could, I would have taken him right then and there.

"I think you'll agree with me when I say that he is quite an impressive specimen of masculinity!" Mrs. McEill said, clearly beaming from ear to ear as she observed me caressing Richard's firmly erect manhood, and suddenly breaking the spell that his naked body had cast on me.

"Ahem! Yes, I er, I mean, yes he is," I blustered, and released Richard's penis from my grasp.

"I think Ms. Vyne has seen quite enough for now, don't you think, Richard?" Mrs. McEill chuckled.

He handed him back his gown.

"Thank you, Mrs. McEill," he said as he slipped it on, concealing his nakedness once more.

"Now then, I suggest you spend a little time getting to know Richard a little less intimately," Mrs. McEill said as she exited the room, presumably back to her study. "Why not go for a walk together?" she suggested. "After all, it's such a lovely day outside."

As soon as she left the room I burst into a hasty stammered apology.

"Oh my God, Richard I'm so sorry! I got carried away there! I do apologise, it's just that..."

"Shh, shh, shh - it's okay, really!" Richard interrupted me. "I didn't mind you touching me like that at all. If I did, you'd have known about it pretty swiftly!"

"Weren't you embarrassed? Being made to stand there naked like that?"

"Not at all, I wasn't being made to stand there naked," Richard assured me. "I mean, Mrs. McEill prefers us to be introduced to clients naked, but she doesn't force us to be nude."

"Yeah, but I still think it's a bit much," I said. "As nice as it was to see you naked like that. You er, have a really nice body, by the way."

"Thank you, it's nice that all my hours spent in the gym and the pool have paid off!" Richard grinned at my compliment. "I'll admit that when I first came here and Mrs. McEill said to me that she preferred it if donors were naked when meeting clients for the first time I was pretty shocked to say the least! But I quickly decided to just throw caution to the wind and give it a try. The first time I did it, when Mrs. McEill took my robe off me I felt absolutely terrified! But literally, after just a minute or so, I began to feel oddly empowered by it. I was proud to be naked, not embarrassed, and I actually enjoyed showing myself off to the woman who chose me. Before I knew it, I was allowing her to touch me - I discovered a whole new part of me that day!"

"Why does she insist on you being introduced to clients naked though?" I asked, still completely baffled by the woman's reasoning.

"She figures that if a client gets to see her donor naked when she, ahem, gets down to business with him, she may as well get the seeing him naked part of it out of the way from the very beginning," Richard answered. "But like I said, though she prefers donors to be introduced naked, she doesn't insist upon it - it's all down to personal choice. But there are very few of us that refuse to do it."

We stepped outside into the sunshine and straight into the formal gardens, and as we ambled among the gravel pathway between the carefully designed and painstakingly maintained flower beds, we continued to talk about the journey of self-discovery Richard had been on since first coming to Glencross Manor.

"Believe it or not, when I was a kid I was really shy," he said as we strolled along. "I hated having to go in the showers after P.E. with all the other boys - it literally gave me sleepless nights! I was the typical kid I guess, a little bit of the old puppy fat here and there, and of course, like a lot of boys I thought that my willy was far too small."

"Well, I can safely reassure you on that front!" I said with a giggle.

"Thank you," Richard replied. "It wasn't until I first came here that I realised that it didn't matter how big a guy is down there, just as long as everything works properly."

"How did you come to end up here?" I asked him. "I mean, this is far from your average vocation!"

"Well, it's a long story, I guess," Richard replied.

He explained to me all about how he had ended up becoming one of Mrs. McEill's donors as we continued along the path and out onto the lawns in front of the house. I must admit, I found some aspects of his story to be more than a little surprising, maybe even a little shocking in places.

"So, all the other men here, the other donors, do they have to go through all of that too?" I asked him as we ambled among small groups of people, most of whom were men, sat on the grass and just generally enjoying being outside on such a lovely day.

"I guess you could call it a right of passage of sorts," Richard answered. "At least it proves to Mrs. McEill how serious we are about wanting to help people have children."

"That's one way of looking at it," I considered aloud.

"I suppose you could say we're a 'band of brothers' here," Richard continued. "We all support each other, you see. Despite what you might think, being a donor here isn't as easy a life as it looks."

"How do you mean?" I asked him to expand.

"Well, sometimes it can feel like you're more of a commodity than a person," he explained. "It sounds silly I know, but a lot of men like to think of themselves as a 'stud', but when you actually find yourself becoming one, it's not the bed of roses you think it is."

"In what way?" I pressed.

"Pretty much all of us here have children dotted all over the world," Richard replied. "Children we'll probably never get to see, let alone be a part of their lives. I mean, for some of us that suits us fine, but I always find myself wondering about them. How are they getting on? Are they happy? Is their home life stable and loving? Y'know, that sort of thing."

"Don't they have the right to trace you?" I asked him. "I heard they changed the law a few years ago so that all sperm donors had to be traceable should their offspring wish to find them."

"Yes, they can," Richard confirmed. "But whilst they are allowed to trace us, we're not allowed to trace them. I mean, I wouldn't want to be a part of their lives, like a proper dad or anything, but it'd be nice to know that they're happy and healthy, you know?"

This was quite an insight into the world of the sperm donor, I considered as we continued in thoughtful silence - an insight into the world of men in general, when I thought about it a little more. As a woman giving birth to a child, I'd always have that physical connection to it that no man could ever experience. Still, that was just nature's way - there was little point in overanalysing it. Instead, I decided to change the subject onto something a little more cheerful.

"What else do you do here?" I asked him. "Mrs. McEill said that all the men had other jobs around here."

"Well, a couple of things really," Richard replied. "I help out in the admin section, basically updating records, ordering supplies, that sort of thing, and I also help run the library here. Not the one in the big house, the other one in the accommodation building. It's kind of appropriate really, given what I do in my spare time. I'm a bit of an amateur writer, you see - I write murder mysteries in my spare time, which I have a lot of, and I share them online."

"Really? And people read them?"

"Well, that's what they're there for!" he chuckled.

"If you don't mind my asking? But how much do you make out of, well, doing what you do here?" I enquired, genuinely curious about how lucrative it was being a donor at Glencross Manor.

"Well, as Mrs. McEill has no doubt explained to you, the fee for our services is five thousand pounds, of which I receive sixty percent, so that'd be three thousand pounds for each client I have sex with. Now, it varies from year to year, but on average I get around twenty clients a year, so that makes it sixty thousand a year."

"Sixty grand!" I exclaimed in utter shock. "Just for having sex a few times?"

"Well, having sex a lot of times, to be more precise!" Richard chuckled. "It can be hard work y'know! That's why it's important we keep ourselves fit - it takes a bit of stamina to keep up with some of our clients! And there's definitely no shortage of them - in the time I've been here I've had clients from all over the world. They never stop coming."

"Neither do you, from the sound of it!" I chortled.

Richard got my joke a second or so later.

"Yeah, you could say that!" he replied.

We spent the next hour or so just wandering around the grounds of the Manor House and talking about this and that, and already I realised that in Richard I had chosen well. Not only did he have a truly wonderful body, he was also kind and gentle and with a wonderfully witty sense of humour. Already I was eagerly anticipating my return to Glencross Manor in a couple of months time when hopefully, he would be getting me pregnant.

We had a cup of tea at the cafeteria and, since it was such a nice day, we took it outside to the sun terrace. Our conversation continued about all sorts of things. I discovered he actually came from quite a humble background - a small back-to-back terrace house in a working class area of Leeds. He enjoyed a happy childhood with loving parents and a younger sister who was currently studying economics at university, but there was never a lot of money.

"We never went on holiday when we were kids," he said. "But our mum and dad took us on plenty of days out - mostly up onto the moors in dad's little three-wheeler for long walks in the hills. We were no strangers to places like Haworth, where the Bronte sisters lived, and to Ilkley and Harrogate. We went to the coast a few times too - Scarborough, Filey and Whitby, which is where my sister bought me this."

He held up the little black pendant I'd noticed while he was naked earlier on.

"Whitby jet, y'see," he explained. "In return I bought her some earrings made of the stuff - cost us most of our spending money that day, but it was worth it."

"Does your family know about what you do here?" I asked him.

"Mum and Dad don't, no," he replied. "As far as they're concerned, I work for a hotel up here. I don't think they'd ever understand what I do and why I do it, let alone accept it. My sister knows about what I do here though. She was a bit freaked out by the having sex part of my career here, but she admitted to me that she's quite proud of the fact that I've helped so many people have children."

In return for Richard's recounting his childhood memories, I regaled him with stories of my own upbringing. I came from a rather mundane suburban background in Surrey - my father commuted to London every day where he worked as an insurance clerk in the City. Growing up, we never really saw that much of him during the week, as he was often late home from work, but he made up for his absences at weekends. He took my sister and I all over the place on day-trips to country houses and down to the coast at places like Brighton and Hayling Island. He took us on theatre trips into the West End, and we spent many happy hours on nature trails in the woodland that Surrey is so famous for. We couldn't have asked for a nicer father.

He passed away while I was at university however, after a long battle with lung cancer. He had few vices in life - he never drank alcohol and took very few risks, but he had a weakness for cigars, and it was those that caused him to get sick. My mum now lived the life of a respectable widow in the town where I grew up, albeit in a nice flat that overlooked the town's main park, rather than the large Victorian semi-detached house that had once been the family home.

Time was getting on, however, and so Richard escorted me back to Mrs. McEill's study, where I was to be given the details of the exercise and dietary plan I would have to follow over the next few months before I returned to Glencross Manor. As part of the plan, I would have to monitor my periods, to enable the clinic to forecast when I would be ovulating - the ideal time for me to try to get pregnant. In order to do this, I had to take my temperature at least five times a day.

"Your body temperature fluctuates a little during your menstrual cycle," Mrs. McEill explained to me as we sat opposite her in the study. "So, at least five times a day I want you to record your body temperature. In order to achieve the most accurate reading it would be best if you took your temperature vaginally. We'll load an app onto your smartphone which you can record your temperature readings on. At the end of each day the app will then automatically send the readings to us so that we can build up a picture of your cycle and then come up with an ideal date for you to attempt to conceive."

It all sounded a little over the top, but I was perfectly happy to go along with it - I was that desperate for a baby that I would have crawled through fire to make it happen!

Richard and I parted ways, albeit temporarily as I would see him again in a couple of months time, and with all the details of my diet and exercise plan, along with my copies of the paperwork, which included the contract between Richard and I that stated that I would not hold him personally liable for any financial provision for the child he would hopefully sire for me, I returned to my room. I had a train to catch, and the sleeper back to London would be leaving promptly at ten minutes to eight that evening whether I was on it or not. I took a quick shower, as there were no showering facilities on the train, and then packed up my belongings.

Karl was already waiting with the Range Rover on the gravel driveway outside the main house. Mrs. McEill stood beside him, ready to bid me adieu - Karl positively towered over her, and you could not have seen a greater contrast between two people. I was pretty sure that under the smart suit and tie that he wore, Karl looked as good naked as Richard did.

"Thank you so much, for everything," I said to Mrs. McEill as we shared a brief sisterly hug.

"I'm glad our clinic here has lived up to your expectations," she replied. "And we look forward to welcoming you back once we have set up a date for you to attempt to conceive. We shall be in touch in due course."

And with that I got in the car and my long journey back to my home in the New Forest began.

* * * * * *

A few days after my return from Glencross Manor, I was once again sipping coffee at the kitchen table with Alice - she was keen of course to ask how I'd got on. Once I explained to her that Richard had been introduced to me whilst he was naked, my friend's eyes nearly popped out!

"You should have seen him, Ali!" I enthused gleefully. "He had literally the most amazing body I've ever seen on a man! He looked like an Olympic athlete in one of those Ancient Greek statues."

"And he was okay with it? Being shown off naked like that? In the presence of two fully clothed women?" Alice gasped.

"He was totally fine with it," I replied to her. "He explained later that he wasn't forced to be naked. That's not all though - he er, let me sample his goods as well."

"What? You mean he?"

"Let me have a good ol' feel of his cock, yes!" I tittered in reply whilst making a 'grabbing hold of his penis' motion with my right hand. "And of course, he ended up getting hard as a result!"

"So? What was it like? Do tell!" Alice eagerly begged me to expand.

"I'm not kidding when I say this, but Richard has the most amazing cock I've ever seen!" I answered her, trying my best to keep my voice as calm and level as possible, and refraining from descending into a fit of giggles like a teenage girl. "Not the biggest I've ever seen, but it was just so perfect in size: not too big, not too small, plenty of girth when he was hard and, get this, he kept his pubes nice and neatly trimmed too!"

"Ooh, I love a guy who 'manscapes' down there!" Alice giggled. "So, when will you have a date to go back up there?"