I do know that as I grew older and began to understand my sexual feelings and desires, the fantasy grew stronger and stronger. While I didn’t really dare to let this fantasy free, it began to fill my thoughts.

As I would make love with my partner, I would dream about filling her with my seed without the protection of a condom, diaphragm, or the pill. It wasn’t just the desire to have unprotected sex; it was the desire to really impregnate my partner and partners. To put my semen in their fertile wombs and make babies.

Of course, I could have already made my fantasy come true. I am a tall, handsome man of twenty-eight from a rich family. I can generally have my choice of women to have sex with. I could marry some girl with a family on her mind and have a couple of children. I am sure that I was on that path. I would get to fulfill my fantasy and desire a couple of times in a lifetime, and I know I am supposed to be happy with that.

There was, of course, the alternative of being a local bad boy and going about getting in the pants of as much of the local “talent” as possible and seeing how many times I could score before my reputation and the paternity suits end up catching up with me. Either option didn’t really seem like a good alternative to me.

So up until this point, I kept my real desires under control. I had to be happy with a fantasy. When I saw a woman who attracted me, I would think not only how much I would like to bed her ... but how much I would like to knock her up. I would see a nice, wide set of hips and think what nice child-bearing hips she has, and then my lust would really grow.

I was the child of a wealthy couple who kept me on a tight budget. Now I had a nice condo, sports car, and plenty of pocket change but no real control over the purse strings. Much of the reason why I hadn’t gone ahead and tried to fulfill my passion was the real possibility that that kind of behavior would get me cut off, and there would be no money.

Now I could support myself.

I had been educated at a fine Ivy League school and have a degree in Business. But I would never be able to pay for the kind of legal trouble and child support that my desires could generate until the day of the plane crash. One day after a trip to the lake, I came home to the condo to find a policeman and my parents’ attorney, Carl, waiting on me. In an instant, my beloved parents were gone.

They had been on a trip to the Bahamas to play golf and sail when their airline had gone down on takeoff from Miami. There were no survivors. In a grief-stricken four days, I had buried both my parents and found my life turned upside down.

Of course, being an only child, I inherited everything, now with no strings attached. Much to my surprise, my father was even a better businessman than I realized. I was worth in excess of $50 million.

For a long time, the shock of my parents’ loss took my mind off my secret desire. I had to work with the attorney settling the estate. I had to learn what my assets were and the business obligations I had also inherited.

It turned out my father had a faithful business and investment advisor who would continue to manage the family businesses and portfolio. It didn’t dawn on me what freedom I had until one day at lunch.

Things were beginning to settle down after the funeral. I was on my way down to the coast to meet a few friends. I was driving alone and stopped in a small-town diner for a bite to eat. A cute young waitress with the name Brenda on her name tag came over and waited on the table. Big tits, nice legs, and a dress just a little too tight. She looked to be about twenty-two years old and a bit of a country girl ... Just a perfect example of what I used to call “young, dumb, and full of cum.”

As she waited on my table, my old fantasy came back to life. I would love to get a hold of that fertile young body. If only I could, and then it hit me. “Why not?” I was free of the oversight of my parents. I was free to move around the country, spend money in the manner I saw fit.

I was free to move from community to community. I had the resources to create different aliases to move into a community, “sow my wild oats,” and disappear. Suddenly, it was clear I could have my desire. To impregnate dozens, maybe hundreds, of women.

I finished my meal at the restaurant, admiring Brenda’s sweet, nice ass the entire time. I had plans for those nice hips, and I would complete it when I came back from the beach.

While at the beach, I walked into an attorney’s office I knew of who specializes in difficult problems. Mr. Vincent would defend drug cases, drunk drivers, etc. While he balked at first, the large retainer I offered him got the services I needed. I wanted him to create a new identity for me. Get me a new social security number, driver’s license, open a new bank account, and a few credit cards.

It turned out my new name was Billy Stewart. Some kid who died in 1972 at the age of 2. I would now be Billy Stewart, and Billy had some wild oats to sow.