Night at the Clinic

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Hello, my name is Jill and I am boring.

Everything about me is boring. I am 28 years old and I am average height, have boring brown eyes and boring shoulder length brown hair. I have average 36C breasts to go on my average, slightly overweight body, with my entirely unstriking facial features. As a result I don’t usually get that much attention from men and, because I am also quite shy, I haven’t had many boyfriends. Don’t get me wrong I’m not a virgin, or a social recluse, and in my college days I did a fair amount of partying with a bit of casual sex thrown in. But since then I have prioritised other things in life, which has left me rapidly approaching 30 and single, with a rather pedestrian social life.

My job is also boring. And it’s the worst kind of boring, because it’s… well, kind of embarrassing too. I work as a junior doctor in a fertility clinic analysing sperm samples to diagnose fertility problems in men. My friends all think this is hilarious, telling everyone who will listen that ‘Jill works in a sperm bank!’ Many times I tried to explain to them the difference between a sperm bank and a fertility clinic, but to no avail and in the end I accepted the misrepresentation. I even started referring to work myself as ‘the sperm bank’. It was just easier that way.

It is a reasonably well paid and stress-free job, but it is also pretty dull. I have little contact with any of the patients, as I work out back in the lab. The majority of our work consists of testing and analysing the sperm samples that are brought to us by the nurses and then sending back the results. My co-workers are my boss Dr Huntley, who is a kindly gentleman in his late sixties and Ralph, a fellow junior doctor about my age, who moved here from Germany several years ago. He is nice enough, but is a fairly private person and we never socialise outside of work. I know he has a wife and a baby at home, but he doesn’t talk about them much. Obviously no chance of finding a boyfriend at work with only these two for company!

But anyway this is a story about something that happened a while back. I am not much of a writer, but I feel I have to put this down in words because it was an event of great significance to me. I’m sure it’s not the craziest story you’ve ever heard, but for a boring person like me it qualifies as absolutely barmy! I have never done anything so…

Well, you’ll have to read on and find out.


It was a Thursday, and for the most part a fairly average and mundane day in the office. Dr Huntley was away at a conference and so Ralph and I were left to run the lab by ourselves. This was a regular occurrence and was hardly a big deal, it’s not like anything wild or unpredictable ever really happens in a fertility clinic. However, it did mean that when Ralph went on his lunch break I was completely alone for an hour and it just so happened that during this hour I received an unexpected visitor. There was a knock on the back door. This was a largely redundant door that led out into the staff car park, which even the staff barely used as it couldn’t be opened or (due to a defect) properly closed from the outside. In fact, it was only there as a legal requirement in case of a fire.

I knew immediately what had happened, as a knock on this door always meant the same thing. A patient at the clinic had got a bit lost trying to find the incredibly badly signposted reception and thought this door was the way into the building. I sighed, put down the paperwork I was doing and went to the door. As predicted, there stood a lost-looking guy. He was a bit younger than me with short black hair and the first thing I noticed was that he was gripping a sperm sample pot so tightly it was as if he was worried it would try to escape. He looked at me and instantly blushed bright red and tried to subtly manoeuvre the pot behind his back.

“Are you looking for reception?” I said, in my most friendly voice, trying to put him at ease. “It’s on the other side of the building. Just follow it around from here until you find a glass door just past the speed restriction sign.”

That is what I said, calmly, as I had said several times before, but inside I was anything but calm. The guy was gorgeous! Well, okay not gorgeous by any usual objective measure. He wasn’t chiselled or tanned or muscular or dangerous looking or like any of the men that I saw in women’s magazines that were supposed to be considered good looking. But he was sweet and shy and had lovely eyes. Just the kind of guy I was always attracted to. There was a short silence while he processed the information I had just given him. The silence was slightly longer than it really needed to be, I assumed because he was trying to hide his embarrassment. What is it with men never wanting to show their emotions?

“Oh, great, er… thanks,” he said. “Silly me I’ve got no sense of direction, um… well good bye then.”

“Yes see you around.” I blurted out in reply. “Well okay I might not see you but I’ll see your… uh…” my sentence tailed off.

The man looked at the sperm sample in his hand and blushed esenyurt escort an even brighter shade of red.

“Um yes, er… I hope you um… like it,” he said and scurried off as fast as he could.


Why did I always say the dumbest things when I was talking to a guy that I liked? “Oh yes, hi there my name’s Jill, I can’t wait to analyse your sperm sample.”


I sat down at my lab station and put my head in my hands. Why could I not talk to men like normal women could? All my friends seemed to do it without any problem at all, if anything it was guys that had trouble talking to them! Not that it really mattered in this case I suppose. Obviously men that came to fertility clinics were typically trying for a baby and so were usually married, or at least in a long-term relationship. So no matter what I said I probably had no chance with this guy anyway, but it didn’t bode well for my future that men couldn’t get near me for all the rubbish I talked. Plus I would have to hide away in the lab all afternoon, not risking going out in case I ran into him again. I’m not sure I would be able to look him in the eyes.

Those lovely, dark eyes…

It would be nice if, just once, a guy like that would notice me and ask me out. And we would go out for dinner or something and he would not be sleazy or pushy and we would just have fun together. Then maybe at the end of the night he would give me a lift home and we would kiss at the door, but he would not ask for anything more. And then after a few more dates he would invite me back to his place for dinner. And over an intimate dinner, we would open up and really get to know each other. Then we would move to the couch and kiss, gently at first, but slowly becoming firmer and more confident. Our hands would start to explore each other’s bodies. He would start to caress my ass and I would put my hands up his shirt and feel all over his back and chest. Then he would move his hands up and start rubbing my breasts, first outside my clothes, then sliding his hands inside, and unhooking my bra. As he massaged my tits, my hands would unzip his pants and start exploring down below. I would feel his manhood getting harder and he would start to pull at my nipples with his fingers and…

I snapped out of my daydream. I was suddenly conscious that my right hand had ventured inside my lab coat and was groping my left breast. I released it quickly and retracted my hand, wondering how I apparently had so little control over my own body when I was daydreaming. I also became aware that I was getting a little bit wet down below. I reached my hand inside my pants to adjust my underwear. As I did so the cotton fabric of my panties brushed against my clitoris and sent a jolt of sexual excitement up my spine.


I froze for a moment as the feeling subsided. For about ten seconds I just sat there, breathing heavily. Then I ventured my hand back across my pubic mound. I stopped at the elastic of my panties and pulled slightly. Once again the cotton rubbed against my clitoris sending a wave of pleasure running through my body. I pulled again, this time harder, generating an even more intense feeling. Slowly I slipped my hand inside my panties. I ran my fingers through the curls of pubic hair before slowly parting my pussy lips with my middle finger and touching my clitoris.

“Neaaaahourgh” I said. Or something like that anyway.

My own voice jolted me back into consciousness. Here I was, sitting at my lab station and… well, there’s no nicer way of putting it, masturbating. What on earth would have happened if Ralph had come back from lunch while I was sitting there with my hand inside my panties playing with my clit, totally oblivious to my surroundings? That would have taken some explaining.

I quickly adjusted my clothing and tried to get back to work. Sample 57228 (patients were always anonymous in the lab), 43 year old male, sperm count lower than average (lower 30th percentile) but well within what would qualify as ‘normal’. Lucky Mr 57228 should have no problem conceiving with a healthy fertile female. Let’s hope he has a healthy fertile female to conceive with, because at 43 years old he isn’t getting any younger. I stared at the page blankly for a while. I assumed that sometime soon a nurse would deliver my mystery visitor’s sperm sample to me. After all, sperm could only live for a few hours outside the body, so we usually insisted that all samples were delivered to us within an hour of production.

Production. What a silly word to describe the process of generating a sperm sample, as if it involved some kind of heavy machinery or assembly line. Why don’t we just call it what it is — masturbating, jerking off, flying solo. I had a British friend once and he used to call it wanking. I loved that word. I wheeled my chair over to my computer and opened a new email.

“Please could nurses be made aware that all samples must be delivered to us within an hour of wanking.”

I looked at it for a few seconds, then deleted pendik escort ‘samples’ and wrote ‘cum’ instead. I chuckled to myself, then deleted the unsent email.

What was the matter with me this afternoon? I had worked in a fertility clinic surrounded by sperm samples for several years to the point where I considered it completely mundane, but now I was sitting there giggling like a silly schoolgirl at the word ‘cum’. There was nothing sexy about semen, it was just the delivery mechanism for the male genetic sample to get to the woman’s ovaries or, for those having sex on a more casual basis, an annoying sticky stain left on the bed sheets that someone would have to sleep in. Day in, day out, I spent my time analysing sperm samples and it didn’t get me remotely turned on.

Well, except for one time. A couple of years ago, just like today, I ran into a cute guy at work and I couldn’t stop thinking about him all afternoon. Every sample I looked at that afternoon I imagined shooting out of that guy’s cock and into my face or tits. I was so unbelievably horny that I waited until everybody had gone home, then I went into the ladies restroom, stripped off my panties, sat on the toilet seat and had one of the most frantic ten minutes of masturbation of my life. For some reason the fact that I was at work intensified the pleasure and lead to a huge orgasm that made me cry out loud and then instantly panic that somebody might have heard me. At the time it felt like the wildest thing I had ever done in my life and, to be honest, it probably was. I was embarrassed for days afterwards and could barely look any of my colleagues in the eye, even though they had no idea of course.

Focus! Sample 57228!

I filled in the time and date at the bottom of the report and signed it off. I then filed it away and tried to remember what I was supposed to do next. I had the attention span of a small child at the moment and all because of my chance encounter with the guy at the door. Maybe my restroom masturbation that time wasn’t so crazy after all, at least it got it out of my system. Maybe tonight I could do the same and wait until everyone had gone home. How nice it would be to gently rub my clit while I…


It was Ralph coming back from lunch. I noticed with much relief that this time my hand hadn’t ventured onto an intimate body part while I was fantasising.

“Oh hey Ralph, have a good lunch?”

“It was okay, I just grabbed a sandwich and ate it in the park.”

“Really? I like eating lunch in the park, it’s so peaceful.”

“Yeah sure. Do you want a coffee?”

“Yes please.”

That was Ralph all over. He was a nice guy but never really discussed anything beyond the mundane and I could never draw him into a discussion about how he actually felt about anything. I’m not sure a word like peaceful was even in his vocabulary. I decided that spending the afternoon with Ralph would be the perfect antidote to my incessant daydreaming and the now exceedingly large wet patch in my panties. If he couldn’t keep me focussed on work, or at least something other than sex, then nothing could.

I managed to zone back in on my work until about five minutes later, when Ralph brought me my coffee.

“Here you go Jill,” he said in his slight German accent

“Thanks,” I said and smiled at him.

“No problem. By the way I’m going to work late tonight so I can take tomorrow afternoon off. I’ve cleared it all with Dr Huntley.”

“Okay, fine”

“To be honest I’m not that busy at the moment, so if you want me to do any of your work while I’m here, just let me know before you go home.”

“Thanks. I’m not that busy either, but if something comes up I’ll let you know.”

Well okay, that put an end to the vague notion I had of repeating my late night restroom adventure. It would look extremely odd to Ralph if I also stuck around an hour after work for no real reason. Maybe I would go home, have a bath and then masturbate leisurely at home in my own comfortable bed. Yes, that sounded like a better plan.

That decided, I almost managed to forget about sex for a while, until a nurse walked in to deliver another sample – Sample 57263.

My heart immediately skipped a beat. Was it his? Was this the gorgeous dark-haired guy’s love juice? “So what if it is?” asserted the other more rational part of my brain. It’s just boring old semen, you see gallons of the stuff every day. I looked at the paperwork accompanying the sample.

Sample 57263 26 year old male

26 year old male, it could be him, I thought to myself. The average age of patients in the clinic was significantly older. Most often it was couples in their 30s or even 40s, who had settled down to have a family and were having problems. Of course, it’s also quite common for people in their mid-20’s to be trying for a baby, but it was quite unlikely that another guy so young would be submitting a sample around the same time. It must be his.

I found this quite exciting for some reason. Half an hour ago I was talking tuzla escort to this guy, this gorgeous, perfect guy and now here I was holding a pot of his semen.

Time of production – 13:35

That’s about an hour ago. Only half an hour before we had our conversation he was stroking his hard cock to ‘produce’ a sample. I tried to picture it in my head. I wondered if he used porn or if he just fantasised in his mind. And if he did use porn, what type? He was fairly young and looked like he could be a geek, so maybe he used internet porn. Yes, that seemed quite likely, I could imagine it easily. He was sitting at his PC watching whatever hardcore porn he could find quickly. He would have to be fairly quick of course, as he had to be on time for his appointment at the clinic. I hadn’t really watched much porn and so I wasn’t totally sure what was readily available on the net, but I imagined him watching some fairly mainstream guy-on-girl sex, while he stroked his cock faster and faster trying to get off. Then suddenly my imagination took a leap and the image on the screen changed. It wasn’t a standard porn film any more, it was me on a web cam! I was sitting on the bed with my knees up and my legs apart. With one hand I rubbed my clit while the other pumped two fingers in and out of my pussy. I must have been enjoying myself as my pussy juices were dripping slowly down my slit and onto the bed. As he watched me on his computer screen I could see his muscles tense. He quickly reached for the sample pot and brought it to the tip of his penis just in time. A thick stream of semen fired into the pot and, at the same time, my on-screen self had a big orgasm of her own.

Snap out of it!

I dragged myself out of my daydream. I was back in the lab at my desk, holding the sample jar. The sample jar that my over-active imagination had just watched being filled.

“Is everything okay?” said Ralph

“Huh? What?” I said, suddenly aware of my surroundings

“You’ve been sitting there looking at that sample for the last two minutes, is there a problem?” he said, genuinely concerned.

“Um… no not really,” I replied as my mind worked overtime. “It’s just this sample is an hour old and I was wondering if I should analyse it now or freeze it and do it tomorrow.” There, not a bad save.

Ralph shrugged his shoulders with a sort of ‘whatever’ look on his face and went back to work, peering through the microscope at what I assumed was another sample. Although the excuse I had given to Ralph was obviously improvised, it was true that I did have to make a decision what to do with the sample. I decided to freeze it, firstly because I had other samples to look at and paperwork to do, but secondly because I wanted to get this sample that was contributing to my ridiculous horniness as far away from me as possible!

I walked over to the storage unit on the other side of the lab. “Well, goodbye Mr 57263,” I said under my breath. “I’ll have to get to know you better another time”. I hesitated before putting the container into storage. I peered over my shoulder at Ralph who was still sitting at his bench with his back to me peering through the microscope. Keeping a careful eye on him I slowly unscrewed the top of the sample. Then I brought it to my nose and took a deep sniff. Heaven! Obviously I was completely used to the smell of semen. It was familiar to me, even comforting in its familiarity. But smelling this guy’s cum as I pictured him rubbing his hard cock was simply amazing. I had never in my life tasted semen, nor had much of a desire to, but at that moment I think if Ralph wasn’t in the room I would probably have drunk the sample down in one go. I quickly screwed the top back on and put the container into storage before hurrying back to my desk.


I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. I lived alone and so the towel wasn’t really necessary, but I had always been very shy about my body. I guess that’s what you get as the result of a conservative upbringing and an easily embarrassed disposition. I walked into my bedroom and turned the stereo on. I played with the CD player for a bit and adjusted the volume until I had it just right – soft, but still audible from the other side of the room. Then I went into the living room and retrieved my cell phone, which I switched off and I also took my regular phone off the hook. I sat on the bed and spent five minutes drying my hair, before carefully packing the hairdryer away.

I didn’t masturbate very often, only when I was extremely horny, but when I did I liked to make sure everything was just right. It would be half an hour or so of the ultimate ‘me time’, free from any distractions and with the ambiance exactly how I wanted it. I slowly took the towel from around my chest, leaving myself completely naked in the bedroom. As usual when I did this, I suddenly panicked that I hadn’t closed the curtains properly, but I looked round and saw that I had. I took the towel back to the bathroom then returned and lay down on the bed. It had been a crazy day; well, by my standards anyway. Meeting that guy then playing with my clit at my lab station, then sniffing his sperm sample… Totally out of character! Then I spent all afternoon horny as hell, wanting to orgasm so badly that even Ralph was starting to look attractive. I have no idea how I made it to the end of the day, but I did and this was my reward.

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