As you suggested, I’ve written it out like a story, and you were right, it
has made it easier to tell. Please return the disc to me after you’ve read
it and made your notes, and delete it from your computer. I’d hate for
anyone else to find it, or, heaven forbid, publish it somewhere or post it
on the internet!
I don’t know if it was the same at your school, but at the university where
I went to take psychology, we were required to act as subjects for some of
the studies. For particularly long or unpleasant ones [like where they make
you sick or keep you immobilised], they give you extra credits or even give
you financial credit towards your tuition.
My parents were paying for my education, but my dad always used to tell me
how he and my mom had emigrated here from India without a dime, and
struggled for every penny. That’s why I checked into what I could do to
lessen his burden.
I don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but there are two things that scientists
just don’t want to be known for studying. Psychotropic drug use, and sex.
The study in which I was to be a subject was not part of my curriculum, so I
knew that it was normal that the researchers not tell me any more than they
wanted me to know, at least until it was over and ready for publication.
I was interviewed by professor Sloan; ‘you will do perfectly, if you are
willing’ he said, looking me up and down.
‘What is the study about, professor?’
‘Endocronilogical effects of sexual stimulation’
There was a pause. ‘And how am I to be stimulated?’
He laughed, ‘you don’t get stimulated, you are to be the stimulus!’
It took a further half hour for the psychology professor to convince this
nineteen year old girl that ‘stimulating’ a man by letting him have sex with
you was no more abnormal than sharing a cup of coffee.
So, that’s how I ended up in a ‘bedroom’ in the bowels of the university,
dressed in very little, with my hair down and brushed [it came to the middle
of my back in those days], waiting for a strange male to enter the room.
My imagination had been working overtime all week, wondering what was going
to happen. My role was to act like the lover of the other subject, whom I
wouldn’t meet until the first experiment. It was up to me how far to go, but
if I wanted to stay in the program and get my entire schooling paid for, it
was clear that it would be all the way.
The door opened and a man entered the room. He was middle aged, with very
short black hair ringing a prominent bald spot. His eyes lit up when he saw
me. I stood and walked over to him. . At that time I had larger breasts than
I do now, and I saw in the mirror that covered one wall how they were
pushing out the white cotton slip that contrasted sharply with my dark skin.
The man was about five foot ten, only slightly taller than me. I smiled at
him as I put my arms around his neck, and held my body against his.
‘Hi’ I said, simply, looking into his dark eyes, our noses nearly touching.
‘Hi!’ he replied, enthusiastically, and kissed me.
My mother didn’t even want me to go out with anyone without her approval
[and a check of their caste and parentage]. As I kissed and held this
complete stranger pressed against me, I found myself thinking that I was far
from home.
He was running his hands up and down my back, then lower, under the slip and
up, his hand was on my panties. Then under them, on my bare bottom.
I was born and raised in America; I was not a virgin at nineteen. But
almost.
I was surprised to find that I was getting excited. I wondered if they were
going to ask me about that afterward.
We had sex. Full penile – vaginal penetration. Sex.
He was gentle and considerate. In fact, despite his age, or maybe because of
it, he was the best lover I’d had until that point.
We soon had our orgasms, together.
‘I hope that I’ll be able to see you again’ he said, nervously, before
leaving in a hurry. I figured that he was thinking about the needle he was
about to get, for the blood sample.
So it began, and several times a week I would have sex with total strangers
in the name of science.
For a while I thought I’d figured out how to get through it easier. I would
make them climax very quickly, by taking them orally and then gyrating my
hips rapidly when they would have regular sex with me. But the professor
said that that wasn’t the idea, I should spend some time with each subject,
to build the sexual tension before release.
Afterwards professor Sloan would ask me some questions, and write the
answers down on a pad. Things like whether I’d had an orgasm [surprisingly
often, I admit], and my impressions of the other subject, how stimulated I
thought he was. Sloan said that due to the sensitive nature of the research,
he’d do the interviews himself, to protect my privacy. Sometimes he took a
blood sample from me.
The men were always older, and all were white. One was really old, past
sixty, and I was with him several times. He had a problem with impotence,
and prof. Sloan told me that that was why he was recruited. My job was to do
my utmost to stimulate him, so that Professor Sloan and his students could
study his hormones from ‘before’ and ‘after’ blood samples. There were other
‘stimulator’ girls in the program [I wasn’t allowed to know who they were],
but apparently I was the only girl who could get the guy going.
It was a tough assignment. I had to really get into the role, pretending
that I was in love with him, stroking and kissing his old face and body.
Looking into his eyes and smiling at him while I went down on him. Only then
could he get an erection. And then he would have intercourse with me in a
missionary position for twenty minutes or more. He was nice. He’d be very
affectionate the whole time, and he was the only one of the men who ever
went down on me in return. And yes, I did achieve orgasm from that.
Actually, to succeed, I had to play my role so intimately with him, that it
was almost as though I really did desire him, and I came several times with
him on each of his visits.
Then there was the midget.
I was sitting in a chair by the mirror while waiting for him, brushing my
hair, naked.
His eyes widened as he entered and saw me, and he made a kind of happy
gurgling sound.
I hate to say this, but he had an ugly, pinched kind of face. He came up in
front of me, and even sitting in the chair, he only came up to my nose.
I put down the brush, and held out my arms, and embraced the poor little
fellow, stroking and holding his head against me.
He was very clean, and he had a pleasant kind of smell. He had nice, thick,
black hair.
I lay down on the bed, and he striped and lay on top of me. He held my head
in his little hands and kissed me, while his erection grew between my
breasts. Somehow I didn’t mind when I felt his tongue push itself into my
mouth. I even slid mine into his.
His penis was normal sized, but we had to be a bit creative in order for him
to be able to enter and have intercourse with me. I had to lift my hips,
while he stood upright and moved his whole body back and forth to get enough
movement. It may sound really bizarre, but actually, he was very sweet. He
couldn’t quite make me come, but I have to give him points for trying. I
think of him sometimes, and wonder what became of him.
After a few months, prof. Sloan wanted me to do more. He said that he had a
subject who craved anal sex. He wanted to study the fellow after he had
fulfilled this desire. I said no way, that’s going to far! But Sloan could
be extremely persuasive; he convinced me that it wasn’t such a big deal. He
told me I should get my rectum accustomed to penetration in advance, and I’d
have no trouble.
He was much younger than most of the many men that I’d been with by then. In
his late twenties, I guessed. When he striped down, he revealed the tattoos
all over both arms. He was muscular, tanned and lean.
‘Baby, what an ass’ he said, and pushing me down on the bed, he groped me
and bit me. He didn’t break the skin, but it hurt.
It wasn’t too bad when he pushed himself into my annus. I was happy that I’d
done as prof. Sloan suggested, and practiced penetrating myself with the
neck of a bottle a couple of times in the previous days. I was on my hands
and knees on the bed, and the tattooed man fucked [sorry, but it’s the most
appropriate word] me like a dog, screaming and whooping, squeezing my
breasts, pulling my head back by the hair. Although he was relatively
handsome compared with most of the other subjects, he didn’t show me any
consideration or kindness. I cried a little after he’d left, nursing my
tender behind. I wondered if I could get the old man or the midget again.
The professor looked a bit angry as I described the encounter to him later.
He held me, stroked my head, and told me I was a good girl. That made me
feel better.
It was shortly after that, I think, that I had the first ‘in the dark’
encounter. Done in the room in complete darkness, so neither of us would
know what the other looked like. It was a large man, with a beard. He was
tender to me, and I felt a flush of emotion as I recognised the smell of
professor Sloan.
I know now that I should have been angry at this blatant breach of trust and
ethics. But by that time I was so emotionally starved, that I welcomed him
into me. At last someone that knew ME, had been kind to me, had shown me
some form of affection while outside this room.
You have to understand, that my own course work was very demanding, and with
the time demanded of me by Professor Sloan, I really didn’t have energy left
for social dating. We had strait sex, and I drank in the forbidden
affection.
The professor started repeating the ‘sight deprivation’ experiments at least
once a week. It was always himself, and I don’t know if he ever knew that I
knew. I always looked forward to being with him.
One evening while he was taking down notes about a just finished encounter,
he asked if I could take on some more work. By that time, I’d do just about
anything for him.
A shower was installed in the room, so that I could freshen up immediately
after a man left, and take a second man on the same evening.
Also, my participation was increased to five times a week.
Sometimes there were strange scenes, like when I dressed up as a nurse, or a
harem girl.
There was a foot fetishist. He went completely wild over my Indian silver
ankle chain and toe ring [I’ve always liked to accentuate my ethnic
identity].
He was a non-descript middle-aged man. He came in a suit and tie, carrying a
brief case, as though he’d just come from his work. I suppose that he had.
He kept his cloths and thick horned rim glasses on, but removed his shoes
and sat on the foot of the bed. I striped for him, and sat at the head of
the bed, so he could get at my feet.
It was fun, how he adored them. He praised their small size, and just rubbed
and massaged them for the longest time. Then he started to lick the soles
and suck on my toes. It tickled terribly sometimes, and I apologised for
laughing, but he told me that he liked my laugh.
He undressed himself unashamedly, under my gaze. He didn’t have a very
attractive body, I’m sorry to say.
He hung his cloths carefully on the hooks on the wall in the corner. He sat
back down where he had been, wearing only those unfortunate glasses, and
placed my feet one on either side of his half erect penis. We both leaned
back on our elbows, nude, facing each other, while I gave him the ‘foot
job’. He sighed with pleasure, and told me how lovely and exotic I was, and
how he wished his wife was more like me.
He asked if it was O.K. to kiss me, and I thought that was a funny question
at that point! I told him yes, and he slid up and over me, and with his
weight on his hands, we kissed for a while. I reached down, and guided him
into me, wrapping my legs around his as he slid inside of me. I wrapped my
arms around his chubby white middle, while he pumped in and out of me. He
kept stroking my face with his fingertips, kissing me, and telling me how
wonderful I was, until I had an orgasm. Later, when he had his, his
excitement, and the feeling of his sperm shooting into me caused me to have
another.
Unfortunately, he had to get dressed and go pretty quickly afterwards,
because I had another man scheduled.
Then there was that creature.. Half man, half woman.
She came in looking very female, made up and in a sexy dress and heels. She
was beautiful, with a slim figure, fine face, and long auburn hair.
I knew, of course. I’d been told in advance. We kissed, and then she started
to cry. I held her and told her that it was O.K., and I took out and stroked
‘her’ penis. She told me that she was born with it, and in adolescence, had
grown breasts instead of body hair. I enjoyed playing with her breasts and
kissing her nipples, as so many men had played with mine. She had wonderful,
slim, girlish hips, and long, smooth, shapely, feminine legs. They looked so
odd, with a man’s organ protruding out from between them.
We made love, and it was an exciting experience. First she was on top, and
it was a different thrill as she penetrated me while I fondled her breasts.
They were medium sized, young and full. Her long hair tickled my face and
breasts, and she made me come.
I took her small, hard penis in my mouth, and I did all that I’d learned to
give her pleasure. I climbed on top and put her back inside me, and I moved
my pelvis forward and back like a belly dancer. I rubbed my thick black hair
over her breasts with my hands. She came at last, and we lay together for
some time before she rose and left me forever.
She’d told me that I had been her first woman.
I don’t know how I ever agreed to take two men at the same time.
I was excited at first, when they entered the room. They were both young, in
their twenties, and both really good looking. Yet there was something odd
and unpleasant about them I soon decided.
They both undressed, and had the biggest equipment I’d ever seen. I was a
little frightened by them. The dark haired one called all the shots, he was
very particular about exactly what should be done. He told the blond one to
‘fuck ‘ me, just like that.
We were doing it ‘doggy style’, and the dark one kneeled on the bed in front
of me and made me suck him while his friend was still at it.
After a while, he wanted us to change positions, so I was on top. I rode the
blond guy’s big cock franticly, but he wouldn’t come. I thought that they
might be gay or something.
Then the dark haired one started running his finger in and out of my rectum.
You can probably guess where this was leading, but I had no idea.
I looked over into the big mirror on the wall when I felt his big penis
against my ass. He pushed it into me slowly and carefully, not like the
tattooed man had done it. I had to lie very still.
When they both had complete penetration, they started to squirm around, so
that one would be going in while the other was coming out.
We looked like a sandwich, my brown body in between their two white ones.
Beef on white bread or something. I was face down on the blond, while the
other one kind of squatted over my behind. I could clearly see it all in the
mirror, that big white log entering and leaving my small brown behind.
I felt like a pig on a spit. It may sound very erotic, maybe it was, but it
wasn’t very pleasant for me. The dark haired one finally pulled all the way
out of me, and came on my back. Then he told me to sit up and slide
backwards, and when I had, the blonde’s released cock squirted all over my
front.
They used my shower, one at a time, then dressed and left, having hardly
spoken a word to me the whole time.
I felt better about it after professor Sloan told me how well I’d done. He
sang my praises, hugged and kissed me, and said I was a ‘real trooper’.
It was a couple of months later that Amanda found me.
She was a very beautiful girl, my height, with smaller breasts than me, but
with a very clear complexion, soup plate size blue eyes, and long, strait
blond hair.
She just spotted me by chance on campus, and came over to talk; ‘don’t you
work for professor Sloan?’
I was scared stiff; I thought my legs would buckle. ‘No’ I lied.
She ignored it. ‘I have to talk to you, it’s very important’
So I agreed to meet her in her room that same afternoon. She was very smart;
she insisted it be immediately after the class I was headed for when we met.
‘What’s this about?’ I demanded of her defensively, up in her room later.
‘Sit down’ she said, kindly. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to show you this’
She handed me a boxed videotape.
The title was; ‘coloured coed sluts’
The photo on the box was me, with a man penetrating me from behind, and
another in my mouth.
I very nearly passed out from the shock. Amanda held me for a long time as I
cried.
She kissed away my tears, and showed me another box; ‘Coed sluts who love
black cock’.
It was beautiful blond Amanda, with a large black penis in her mouth.
‘How did you find out?’
‘One of the customers told me. He was enraged when he found himself on a
tape with me in some porno shop, and decided to blow it for Sloan’.
‘Customers?’
‘What do you think? They pay $250 each per time, more for the kinky stuff.
Except that pair of porn actors. They got paid, I would guess’.
The totality of the betrayal felt like a truck parked on my chest.
I spent that night with Amanda, with her in her bed. We didn’t have sex, but
we held each other close all night.
On our second meeting with the police ‘vice’ detective, he advised us to let
the matter drop. He said that he’d inquired for us, and was told that it
would be very hard to make the case stick, and our names would just get
dragged through the mud for nothing.
But as we left the police station, we both saw, and knew. The captain in the
glass office was the first man who had been with me in the room.
He had been with my darling Amanda as well.
Neither of us saw Professor Sloan again. He just kind of disappeared from
the university.
We changed our dorm assignments and moved in together, and became lovers.
Making love with Amanda was and is always deeply emotional, so different
from what I had been through.
Sometimes we toy with the idea of a return to heterosexuality, and there is
a man that we both like.
We can both be happy that neither of us contacted HIV. At the time these
events took place, it was supposed to have been a homosexual disease.
I would be glad for an opinion, doctor Lewis… what do you think about the
idea of us letting a man into our lives?
