I read this in a novel and I want to know if it is possible. Can sperm travel back into a man?

I read a book…(if anyone read this and remembers the name…please tell me.) About a woman who gave birth to a mixed child. Her husband was white and she never cheated. In the end, it was found that her husband cheated with a woman who moments earlier slept with a black man. Supposedly the black mans sperm traveled back into the white mans penis. He then went home and slept with his wife who became pregnant when he released that sperm. Can this actually happen, or is this very far fetched fiction?


Related Information:

Is my book good enough?

I am in the long, entertaining process of writing a novel, and I just wanted to know, from what I put, if it sounds good, bad, or in between. If you have a comment please tell me.
Here it goes:
As planned, I choked once I did see him. The pretty brunette at the front of the room had taken no time to register me into a desk. It’s really, honestly too bad that I had been seated in front of him, definitely. I wasn’t quite sure of why. In my eyes, it was between the fact that I had actually been forced to be near him, and the revulsion I felt because I couldn’t see his face. Either way, I knew we would have to meet, somehow.
Hearing the frantic beat of my own heart is what startled me.
It was not something I could erase-the feeling I got in my stomach when I felt his warm breath over my shoulder. Even though I knew I was already trapped, spoken for, I still wanted my heart to listen to me. This attraction to him was subtle, not a situation I would have ever placed myself in. I could change that, defy destiny. If this was destiny.
So I ignored it. I flung the idea out of my brain and ordered it to never come back. The natural sentiment, however, remained unscathed.
Suddenly, a tingle of warmth touched my shoulder. At first, I was sure he had poked me, but when I turned to reject it, his face stayed steady below, on the sheet of paper he had been scribbling on, and his back was glued to the rear of the chair. Result: nowhere within reach of me.
I could have forgotten, how quickly he seemed to look up, but it would have certainly returned.
“Hello.” His lovely lips moved in a chain reaction. I flinched, bewildered.
It took me almost a quarter of a second before I could even make up a response. “Hi.” One magic word was all I needed to say; nothing fancy.
I’d thought I’d seen it all: the astounding good looks, the silver eyes. But the grin that now played on his lips, was all I needed-wanted- to stop time. It was sideways, crooked, but hopelessly remarkable. There could only be one word for a smile like that: irresistible.
He sat up, and gleefully held out his hand. “I’m Michael Chast,” His voice was almost as enthralling. “And you are?”
Oh, my turn to speak. Wait. I couldn’t remember my name. What was it? “Jaycee Swallows.” Relief.
The smiled hadn’t yet calmed down. “Well, Jaycee Swallows, I would love to show you around, if you’re alright with that?”
Here it goes again. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. What was wrong with me? “Great. That would be great.” No, I didn’t mean to say that.
“Can I see your schedule?”
Word vomit. “Yeah, no problem.” No. No.
Please tell me what you think, and how I can improve, thanks!
Actually, she didnt think he touched her because she was nervous.
To find out what happened, you’ll have to read the whole book, if it ever gets published. :)
Wish me good luck!


Related Information:

Constructive Criticism/Review. Would you continue reading?

Hey

I’ve already wrote a novel based on the idea of someone finding a diary, and I wanted to write another. With the same idea, but a different diary. What do you think of it so far?
–

January 1st 2007

I don’t celebrate the day as a new year. This is not a day to embrace, but to be feared of. It is the anniversary of an…unfortunate event.

A pool of pure red blood. A cry of piercing pain. Wide grey eyes howling for help. But all I could do was look.

It’s not a memory I can get used to nor avoid.

From then onwards it has been my job, and my fate to sinfully murder. The guiltiness cannot be numbed, but I have no other option. I have a debt to pay, an unlimited debt, I am in this forever.

I met Marcy yesterday, at the close of night. We met in the crowded park, it was hard to spot him, but when I did he seemed dressed for the New Year’s Party; his black hair was smartly slicked back, he wore a grey suit and tie, his aftershave was expensive and strong and his face was shaved smooth. We acknowledged each other with a nod, and got on with the job. He handed me two pictures of men, looking at the first I guessed that he was around forty but I spared the details, I’d have hours to inspect him later. I flipped it over, looking for the information, it said:

Impure to the eyes of the Leader and Followers

ID: #004203873
Name: Alan Dunmore
D.O.B. 05/08/1976
Crime: Homosexuality

The Brotherhood of the Humanitarians

I looked at the second. He was of similar age to the first, and I didn’t have to guess his ‘crime’.

Impure to the eyes of the Leader and Followers

ID: #005892216
Name: Jacob Kensington
D.O.B. 17/08/1974
Crime: Homosexuality

The Brotherhood of the Humanitarians

Underneath each picture was a home address and a contact number.
"The job should be done by the fifth," Marcy said, his voice naturally hoarse. Without a chance to respond he walked away as the fireworks sprang into the sky and coloured the black night.

I read the card again, shaking my head. That’s what it’s called. A Brotherhood. The Brotherhood of the Humanitarians – where the leader and followers are seen as pure. Though to me, I am a part of an organisation where mercy is a myth, where happiness is gained by physically eliminating those who cause disruption and where those who are involved are damned to hell.
————–

Constructive criticism (or praise!) or advice please.

What do you think of the story so far (romance will be added to late plot), the name of the Brotherhood, and any ideas for the title?

Thank You
xx


Related Information:

would you read this book?

Here’s the basic plot for the novel I’m writing (It’s about a dysfunctional family):
A middle-class model and a recovering delinquent drug addict with a dysfunctional relationship end up getting married against the woman’s better judgment (it’s cliché, I know…any suggestions?). He beats her sometimes, and he’s such a bad influence on her that she loses her job, so now she can’t leave him, she depends too much on him. They end up having 7 kids. The 3rd has a fatal heart condition that will end her life at a young age (around 15, and it’s because of the drugs the dad took), but they don’t find that out till later, which is why they had more kids. The main part of the novel takes place when the kids are 19, 17, 15 14, 12 and 8. The mom saw sense (although it was too late) and kicked out the dad when he started beating the children too and almost killed the 2nd youngest (the only other girl), and now she is recovering, she has a job as a waitress in a casino.
The kids are coping too, the oldest is finally able to get on with his life now that the mom looks after her kids again, the 17 year old has anger management problems but is getting counseling, the 14 year old twins (who had only each other to rely on for so long) have trouble relating to the rest of the family and are called gay at school but (they insist) it doesn’t bother them (They’re not), the 12 year old girl is called a freak at school for her dysfunctional family but she is defiantly “proud” of being an outcast, and the 8 year old, probably the only normal one among them, has no clue anything is wrong (or ever was). The 15 year old girl is reaching the end of her life. She’s trying to figure out who she really is, and wondering how to break the news to her boyfriend and her best friend.
Then trouble brews. The mom finds a new guy at the casino. At first he seems to be helping her heal, but then it is revealed that he needs cash, and he has been selling the 17 year old drugs to cope with his problem. The 17 year old sometimes can’t control himself and he beats his girlfriend. He’s afraid he’ll turn out just like his father. The 15 year old dumped her boyfriend and started dating his best friend to get him to move on from her, but then the best friend starts falling for her and it turns out he has a lot of valuable philosophies about life and coping with things. He’s a “live in the moment” type guy, and he really helps her find herself. The 12 year old has been being harassed in many ways at school and stalked online by this guy, and she ends up killing herself (or trying to…that’s what I need help with…I was thinking an overdose of her brother’s pills could work, although it might be kind of overkill…) The 19 year old is sucked back into everything just when he was almost able to live his own life, and the twins just try to close their eyes to everything again. How should everything work out in the end? I don’t necessarily think it has to be a depressing read…at least it doesn’t have to end depressing. What do you think? Would you read this? And what should my characters be named?
Also…is it just like alot of other books? What are some ways I could make it more…unique? And how can I make the characters of the youngest brother and the twins more interesting? All of the other characters except them have a big problem they’re dealing with…ideas?! :)
thanks! 10 points to the best answer!


Related Information:

David Soul – Ex lover — Dinah show 1977

David Soul canta “Ex lover” al Dinah show del 1977, canzone di Amanda mcbroom tratta dal lp “David Soul” in cui si trovano: Wall, 1927 Kansas City, Bird On A Wire, Hooray For Hollywood, Landlord Seem, To Miss So Much, One More Mountain To Climb, Don’t Give Up On Us, Topanga, Black Bean Soup, Kristofer David. Turn off the music Turn up the light Go put your shoes on While I open the door You’ll shake my hand as I wish you good-night And find myself lonely once more Oh well what the hell Some other evening, some other time It’s time for a bottle and a moment of silence For another ex lover of mine You weren’t the first one God knows there’ve been more Remember a few nights, forgotten the rest The day that I met you I stopped keepin’ score Pretending that you were the best Oh well… I’ve looked for perfection in ev’ry hotel room Polite desperation clouds all that I say My life ends up reading like a cheap dime story novel Romance in the moonlight Disappears with the day But just like a good man, I still keep on searching For someone to love me, a hand for my hand I keep on believing that our love has changed And I’ll be on my feet when I land Oh well…


Related Information: