The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Phase Zero Clinical Trial: Response To Hypnozamine In The Human Female

by B Pascal

Chapter 6

I lay down and napped when I got in. Apparently I really needed a couple more hours of sleep, but I felt better when I awoke. I collected my dirty laundry and went down to the laundry room and started a load of wash and dry. I read a journal while it finished.

While the dryer was running, I started thinking about how Annie had responded last night. I had taken a chance, and found that she hadn’t remembered being sprayed, nor the instructions I had given her while she was “tranced”, but that those instructions remained in place for several hours. By my estimation, she had also lost about two or three minutes of memories just before she was sprayed.

I also found that I had been able to implant—I hated to use these hypnosis terms, because this really wasn’t hypnosis, but I had no adequate replacements—to implant a post-hypnotic state triggered by a code word, here ’dendrite’, and that I was able to activate that for some time afterward. That would prove useful, I thought.

I also thought that the suppression of inhibitions, such as the embarrassment of telling someone your true feelings, served as a kind of crude “truth serum”, such as when I had asked her why she had invited me and how she felt about me. Truth is good, and also useful to know. I would jot these down in my lab journal a little later.

There wasn’t much more to my day. I had no place I needed to be, there were no movies I wanted to see, and I don’t do much television. So I read, made my weekly phone call to my mother, and then it was bedtime. That’s what most of my weekends are like. This one had been a pleasant exception.

The next day, wonder of wonders, I got an email from Dr. Clark thanking me for my report on the last experiment and congratulating me on its successful execution. Thus heartened, I reviewed my lab notes for Clark’s next experiment and spent the morning setting it up. I would get it started in the afternoon.

Some of the others wanted to go out for lunch, but I wasn’t in the mood so I took a journal with me to the cafeteria for company while I ate my sandwich. After lunch I seeded the experimental apparatus, took the initial readings, and started it on its run. Around 2:15 I took a walk to the cafeteria again, but did not see Liz today.

Back in the lab I found Frank, who had been off-site all morning at a meeting. “Hey, Sam, how was your weekend?”

“Turned out very nice, thanks. Yours?”

“Better than I expected. I went out to dinner with Eden again, kind of a last-minute thing but we had a good time. She was telling me about her divorce for most of the meal. Tell the truth, I didn’t even remember that she’d gotten married. We’d kind of gone to different parts of the country after graduation and lost touch.

“Oh, by the way, she wanted me to pass on Sara’s phone number. I guess Sara wanted to get in touch again.” Here he gave me the “we-all-know-what-that-means” look, but he did dig out a sheet from a notepad with her name and number.

“Thanks, Frank. So, what’s the deal with you and Eden? We were all speculating about the spark we saw between you at the Burger Barn. Are there little Wisowicz’s in the future?”

“What are you talking about? We’re just friends and colleagues,” he said while turning bright pink.

“Oh, okay. Apparently we were misinformed.” I glanced at Ted Markey, who looked as if it was taking all his willpower to keep from bursting into laughter at Frank’s indignant denial of the obvious.

The lab settled down as we returned to our assignments. I went back to review the notes about my current experiment for Clark and make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

And that got me to thinking again about Clark’s management style, which was reminiscent of a stiff Austrian schoolmaster. I wondered how we might move him along the path to a more collegial approach to research methods and goals.

The problem was that he was so invested in his own ideas about the scientific goal that he didn’t trust any of us to follow it. And it’s true, none of us thought much about his particular theory of how to interrupt the mechanism of addiction at the chemical level. But there might be something of value there.

If we could reinvent Clark, how would he behave? I speculated idly about spraying him and having a long conversation that would show him his new path. Then I wondered what would happen if you ordered someone to behave in new ways that were almost diametrically opposite to what that person had practiced all their life.

How would the mind react if it is suddenly required to do a behavioral about-face? If a person was raised as a devout Christian, say, all their life, Church on Sundays, read the Bible each evening, what would happen if a hypnotist suddenly told them there is no God, that they are now an atheist? I think the mind would be confused and rebel in some way.

Note I said the mind, not the brain. The brain can be manipulated, rewired, hacked. The mind, however, is a delicate mechanism, normally in balance, but easily affected by behavioral and cultural influences which can cause it to behave in unexpected ways. Psychiatrists, psychologists, and even hypnotists, are aware of this and are normally careful about introducing strongly different behaviors in their subjects.

So while it might be a relief to all of us in the lab to have Clark become more egalitarian in his approach to research goals and directions, it would take some further thought on how to introduce it.

I love how research always brings up more questions than answers. Not really, no, I don’t love that at all.

After work I had to detour to the market because I was out of almost everything. I had several plastic bags weighing my arms down when I finally got home. I put all the stuff that would spoil away, and put the pre-made lasagna I got at the store in the oven to heat. Okay, I’m lazy, sue me.

While it was warming I remembered Sara’s number in my pocket and pulled it out. No time like the present, so I sat down on the couch and called her number. It was still a little early, and she might not have gotten home from work yet.


“Sara? It’s Sam Halloran. Frank Wisowicz got your number from Eden and passed it on to me. As I was driving away the other night, I realized I had never gotten it and it was too late to drive back.”

“I figured, that’s why I asked her to pass it on. And thanks for calling. I just wanted to say I had a nice time, and sorry we were a little rushed. You know what they say about going out on a school night.”

“Yeah, my mother never let me forget it.”

“So, here’s the thing, Sam. I kinda like you, you’re smart and have some insight, and you’re fun to be around. Would you like to get together again? Maybe go out for something to eat, hear some music, like that?”

“I think I’d like that a lot. It’s a little early in the week to plan something definite, but how about getting together Saturday? Food, definitely. I don’t know you well enough to suggest something musical, but let’s talk again later in the week and brainstorm, okay?”

“Okay, deal. Looking forward to it. ’bye”

Nice lady. Smart. Great butt. Definitely looking forward to it.

Dinner was ready, and I was hungry. I finished, then read till bedtime.

I’ll skip over most of the rest of the week, with a few pauses.

Tuesday, the old Clark was back, this time chewing out Ted Markey over something, I didn’t quite understand what and neither did Ted, and in the end Clark stormed off to his office again. I started revisiting my thoughts about introducing him to my compound. We all commiserated with Ted.

We went out to lunch together in a show of solidarity, and Ted seemed to be recovered somewhat by the time we got back. I collected the readings from the latest experiment and jotted them down in the log.

Around two I started thinking about Liz Conway again and said, what the hell, it’s worth a trip to the cafeteria. At worst, I’d get to eat cake or pie.

So off I went, and got coffee and squash pie, while reading a riveting memo from HR on changes to the medical plan.

Movement out of the corner of my eye made me look up, and there she was.

“Hi, you surprised me again. Did you know that the medical plan no longer covers malarial infections resulting from travel to the Philippines? I’m outraged.”

“I’m as shocked as you are. May I sit?”

I nodded, and she glanced disapprovingly at my plate. Who doesn’t like pie? She carried a cup of tea and a small cup of fruit salad.

She was wearing a two-piece business suit, navy blue, with a tight sheath skirt that made me swallow and look away so I wouldn’t stare.

I asked, “Are you judging me? I can almost hear you say it in your head.”

“We must each make our own choices, Sam, so no judgment. Well, not much, anyway. How was your weekend?”

“Nice. Relaxing. I did laundry, and dusted my collection of Victorian thimbles. It’s world famous, you know.”

“Of course it is, I’d expect nothing less.”

She took a sip of her tea, and cleared her throat, then took a small bite of her fruit salad.

“So, Sam, you asked me something last week, about my writing. And I was surprised to find how nervous I was about it, about showing it to someone. I actually spent a good part of the weekend, off and on, thinking about why I was nervous.

“I’ve always had this kind of fear or embarrassment of having people read my stuff, and I originally think it was because somewhere down deep I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a writer. But I know, when I compare it to others, that it’s just as good.

“So I finally decided that now it’s a fear of people I know judging me. Like I did about your pie.”

I had to smile at that.

She went on, “I don’t know why I worry about that, but we’ve all got one kind of fear or another. So that’s why I was hesitant to show you my writing. Because I was afraid, on some level, of being judged by someone I respect.”

She took a sip of tea so she wouldn’t have to talk anymore, looking like she wanted to escape.

“Liz, we’re all good at some things, not so good at others. It’s just the way people are built. Most of us admire the people who can do the things we can’t, because it seems really difficult to us. I can’t really write, not fiction, anyway. I can whip up a mean report, though.”

I got a smile out of her.

“What I mean is, if you were writing fairy tales or fan fiction, whatever, it would be so much better than I could do that I would have to respect what you were doing, and admire it. I asked because I suspect that, based on the little I know about you, what you do is way above that. I don’t think I’d be judgmental. I’d be too busy being awed.”

She looked at me for a short while. It was like the principal staring at you from behind his desk, and I felt like I wanted to shrink down into the chair.

But it wasn’t disapproval, it was her thinking and then making a decision.

She reached down for her bag, hanging from the chair rail, and pulled out a folded sheaf of papers.

“This is a short story, and also the first chapter of a longer work that isn’t done yet. I’ve never done this, Sam, except in a writing class, where I share something I’ve written, so I’m nervous. But I’d like to know what you think about them.”

She passed them over, and I took them. “I’m grateful that you’d trust me enough to share them. Thank you. Give me a few days to read them over and think about them, then I’ll return them.”

“Okay. And, Sam? Please don’t show them to anyone else.”

“You have my word.”

She picked up her empty bowl and cup, nodded to me and left. I was doing my damnedest not to be sexist, but I couldn’t help admiring her legs and butt under that skirt as she walked away.

Over the next couple of days, after work, I read the two samples she gave me. I thought the short story was clever, and was quite surprised at how much she had been able to develop the personality of her protagonist in only a few pages, while still working in a full plot with a surprise twist at the end.

The chapter of the novel, novella, whatever it was, was slower to build, and she was able to construct a more nuanced character in her heroine, and design the web of her interactions with the other supporting characters. For both of them, I jotted down some notes and some questions that I wanted to ask her about.

I was really impressed. She had a way of laying out her written landscape much like an artist lays out an oil painting. The artist needs to have their vision of the finished work in their head in order to build up the details that the reader/viewer will finally see when it’s done. It’s a skill not everyone can acquire.

On Thursday, after work, I called Sara again. I had found nothing that I was interested in musically, and she said much the same, so in the end we decided to have dinner somewhere and try a comedy club downtown. I’d pick her up around seven on Saturday.

Friday, Clark was again in a foul mood, and this time I think it was nothing to do with us. At least he didn’t take off after one of us. Maybe his boss was bugging him. That’d be good for comic relief.

At Liz’s break time, I went to the cafeteria—the lab crew was now giving each other knowing looks when I left—and got coffee and a bowl of fruit salad. She wouldn’t be able to judge me now.

If she showed up.

I had the sheaf of papers on the table when she came up from behind me and sat. I was going to have to start sitting with my back against the wall, like I was expecting an attack, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

Her eyes dropped to the sheaf of papers, then fell on the fruit salad.

“Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, Halloran. Eating something that’s good for you? Careful that people in the lab don’t find out.”

“I’ll smear some chocolate cake on my tie, and most everyone will be taken in by the ruse.

“Liz, let’s cut to the chase,” I said. “This wasn’t just okay, this was great stuff. I kept being amazed by how much... detail and nuance you were able to fit in those few pages. Sometime I’d like to ask you how you do that. You must have edited it down until only the important things were left.

“Look, I made some notes that I wanted your thoughts on, and a couple of questions—mostly plot or character-related—that I had.”

I jumped in, and started down my list, and, honestly, she looked a little shell-shocked. I think she wasn’t prepared for the number of questions and comments. She thought I was just going to say, “Nice job, very good.” She addressed each of the items I brought up, and on one point where I asked about a plot detail I thought hadn’t been fully explained, she nodded and made a note to herself on a scrap of paper.

She glanced at her watch, then collected the sheaf of papers. She held them in her hands while she looked at me.

“You’re never what I expect, Sam. This was more than I thought I’d get. This was like... someone who was wrapped up in the story, whose imagination was stimulated and engaged. That’s a real compliment. Thank you. And thanks for noticing that plot flub. I’m glad you caught it.

“I’ve got to go. Maybe you could read a little more of my stuff, give me your opinion?”

“I’d like that a lot.” And she walked off, looking, I thought, a little bouncier than normal. Might have just been my imagination.

Absolutely nothing of consequence happened between then and late Saturday afternoon. I ate, I slept, I got up.

I called and made a reservation at a restaurant I thought she might like, then showered and shaved, found some decent night-on-the-town clothes, not too fancy. A little before seven I drove to her place and rang her buzzer. She shouted through the intercom, “Don’t bother coming up, I’ll meet you at the lobby door.”

She was downstairs in a couple of minutes, and looking she had paid much more attention to her appearance than the first time we met. She was sexy then, but way more so now. She had a coat on, so I couldn’t see details, but I expected I was in for a surprise.

At the restaurant, there was a short wait at the bar, and I took our coats to the checkroom. I hadn’t been wrong; she had on one of those infamous ’little black dresses’ that made me and every other guy in the bar check out her chest and her ass. It made my heart pound a bit faster. To take my mind off it, I ordered drinks and we traded shop talk.

I told her about Frank’s reaction to my questions about him and Eden, and she smothered a laugh. “Yeah, I got much of the same when I asked Eden about Frank. I give it two months and they move in together.”

They called my name then, and showed us to our table. It was a better restaurant than I had anticipated, and pricier, too. But the food made it worth it. We spent the meal sharing details about growing up, school, prior romances, scientific interests and so on. I found out that she was a swimmer—four times a week in the pool for an hour—which explained the muscle tone and the firm ass.

Afterwards, we went to the comedy club, where it was an evening of up-and-coming comics—meaning amateurs trying to break into the business—some of whom were quite funny. We’d had a couple of drinks and the pump was primed, so to speak, and there were a few minutes where we were laughing so hard, tears were falling.

I had some coffee before we left the club so I’d be sober enough to drive safely. She said she liked when she could laugh hard like that, it made work and life problems disappear for awhile.

She wrapped her arm in mine as we made our way back to the lot where I’d parked. It took me a minute to remember where I’d put the claim check, but I found it eventually.

We both knew what was on the other end of this trip, but neither of us brought it up directly. I’d had half an erection beginning partway through dinner. She chose that dress precisely for the effect it had. My palms were already a little damp.

I found an almost legal spot just a few doors from her building. As we reached the entrance she said, “You’ll come up for a while, won’t you, Sam?” Try and keep me away, I was thinking, but I nodded instead.

As we stepped into her apartment, she hung up her coat and said, “Why don’t I make some coffee?” I said I thought that was a good idea. Unsaid, I was thinking it would give me more of an opportunity to stare at the little black dress.

She chatted conversationally as I fingered the aerosol container in my pocket. I may not need it, but there were things I could learn by using it. I wanted to know if it would overcome behavioral aversions, that is, force behavior that the subject would not ordinarily do, and if it really did have that ’truth serum’ effect I suspected. I also wanted to know how long the suggested behavior lasted.

“Almost ready,” she said.

“Good,” I answered. “I still have a little buzz from the drinks.”

She was taking out cups from the cupboard, her back to me. I said, “May I use your bathroom?” as I stood up and stepped past her, giving one spray over her shoulder as I passed by.”

“You don’t need to ask,” she replied.

When I returned, she was still standing there, one cup in her hand, looking intently at the cupboard.

“Did you lose something, Sara?”

She didn’t even turn her head, but said, “No, I haven’t.”

“Sara, you look a little lightheaded. Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel fine,” she said, “just a little lethargic all of a sudden.”

“What are you thinking about right now, Sara?”

“I’m thinking that this was a nice evening. I really liked the meal, and the comedy show was fun, and I enjoyed being with you.”

“I especially liked being with you, Sara. You looked really sexy tonight, and I was thinking how lucky I was that we were out together.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was looking forward to tonight.”

“So was I. Sara, have you noticed how aroused you have become this evening? Your skin is so sensitive now, and when we touch it’s like little shocks, but it’s pleasure, not electricity. Do you feel it?” I reached out and gently touched her bare arm.

“Oh, wow, I hadn’t noticed. That’s really amazing.”

“You’re finding yourself thinking about the last time we were together, and how good it felt, and you know that if we do that again, this time will be even more intense and passionate. Do you think that?”

She paused, and placed one hand on her breast, as she might do if she were alone. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“You’re thinking about all the erotic things I did to you last time, and about the things we didn’t get a chance to do yet. They’re turning you on now, making your pussy a little wet. Can you feel it?”

She moved her hand from her breast to her pussy, still covered by the little black dress.

“And you’re thinking, Sara, of how much it would excite you to give me pleasure in return, to make me happy. It almost makes you cum to think about that, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes.” She was rubbing her dress now, and I could see her eyes becoming a little more focused now as the drug started to wear off.

“Sara, when I say the word, ’torus’, you will block out all the sensations and stimuli around you, and will hear my voice alone. And you will want to do what I tell you because it makes you feel good when you do that. And when I clap my hands, you will awake again and remember nothing of what we said, but you will still do the things I asked, because you want to. Can you do that, Sara? What’s the word you’ll be listening for?”

“Yes, I can do that. It’s torus.”

“Wonderful. Why don’t you sit at the table now, and I’ll get the coffee.”

She turned slowly, the lone cup still in her hand, and sat down. I took the cup from her and placed it on the table, then brought the saucers and spoons she had taken out and carried them over. I found milk in the fridge and brought that out.

She looked up, a little confused. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Sam, I had it all prepared.”

“It’s okay, I was standing there and thought I’d help. You feeling all right? You looked a little spacey for a moment.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that was about, daydreaming or something. Oh, you want sugar?”

“Yes, thanks.” I poured the coffee, and made sure to brush against her while doing it, and she gasped a little. Her hands were shaking slightly.

“You’re sure you’re okay? You look like you forgot where you were. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Sam. I just lost a couple of minutes ’cause my mind was elsewhere. I made coffee and I was going to get out the cups, then you did it instead.”

“All right, just checking.” I took a sip. It was pretty good coffee, in fact.

She kept glancing over at me, like she was trying to do it so I wouldn’t notice.

I smiled at her, and got a nervous smile in return. She looked like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“I had a really good time tonight. I’m glad you agreed to go out.” I reached out my hand and laid the tips of my fingers on hers, like the brush of a dandelion on the skin. But the reaction was like an electric shock. She drew in her breath sharply and looked at me like she was watching something dangerous approach.

She jumped halfway up from her seat and leaned over the corner of the table to grab my shirt with both hands and pull me in for a deep kiss. It was like she was trying to suck the life out of me. Her lips and tongue were everywhere.

I met her halfway and had my hands on the sides of her face while we kissed. I moved us to a standing position and pulled her in so our bodies were pressed together.

“Coffee can wait,” I said. “I need to touch you everywhere.”

She grabbed my hand and almost dragged me down the hall to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes before she reached the bedroom door.

This was a stronger reaction than I had anticipated. I’m going to have to think about subtlety and establishing stages of arousal. Tomorrow.

She was pulling at my shirt, trying to grab it off my body, but it was still buttoned. I said, “Wait,” and took her hands and placed them at her sides while still sucking her tongue. I undid my buttons as fast as I could and pulled the shirt off, while she knelt down and fumbled at my belt.

It came loose, and my pants fell to my knees. Now I was effectively trapped, because they wouldn’t slip over my shoes, which were still on my feet. Her hands were on my shorts, pulling them down, and my erect cock popped free and nearly slapped her in the face.

She took it in one hand, looking like a starving person who has just found the last sandwich in the buffet. With one hand she stroked it slowly, while she leaned in and breathed on it. With it just an inch from her mouth, she stuck out her tongue and licked it and groaned. I groaned, too.

“Sara, my shoes. Unlace them, or I won’t be able to do anything. Please.”

She looked at me like, ’Can’t you do that yourself? Can’t you see I’m busy?’ But she did lean down and untie them so I was able to kick them off. By the time I did, she had grabbed my dick again and was licking it up and down.

“Oh, Christ, Sara, that feels so good.” She had placed her thumb and two fingers around the base of my dick and was stroking it slowly up and down, while her other hand reached out and cupped my balls. She looked up at me as she opened her lips and slid the tip of my dick in, then closed her mouth over it and flicked her tongue. I thought I would faint.

With her lips closed, she moved her head up and down on my dick and I felt like I could hold out another fifteen, twenty seconds tops, until I shot my load down her throat. Not yet, too much to do still.

“Jesus, baby, stop, please, stop, just for a minute. Come up here.” I pulled her to a standing position and stuck my tongue in her mouth while grabbing her ass. I found the zipper on the back of her dress, and pulled at it, but said, “Sara, I’m having trouble with your torus.”

She went limp, completely relaxed, still standing up, her eyes unfocused.

“Sara, can you hear the traffic outside in the street?”


“How about the television in the apartment upstairs. It’s a little too loud.”

“I can’t hear it.”

“What can you hear, Sara?”

“I can hear you.”

“Good, ’cause I want you to listen carefully. I am so excited to be here with you. I hope you’re as turned on as I am. Sara, you’re going to be surprised to find how aroused you become when our bodies touch. It will feel like a flood of warmth and pleasure is spreading through you, making you feel wonderful. When I suck on your nipples, or pinch them, it will give you a rush of delight that will make you feel almost like you’re about to cum.

“The same thing will happen which I squeeze your ass or lick it. And when I nibble on your clit or lick it, or stick my fingers into your pussy, it will make you cum, a long, slow orgasm that will leave you feeling so happy and safe and wonderfully relaxed.

“And Sara, you’re going to be surprised to find that when I lick your asshole, it makes you feel not uncomfortable, but instead a little slutty and dirty and turned on. And when something goes into your ass, you will be a little startled but amazed to find that you’re having an orgasm that spreads out slowly from your butt through your whole body. Having your ass filled will be a turn-on which surprises you because you had thought you didn’t care for it.

“When we do start to fuck, Sara, you’ll feel like this is the perfect place to be, and the feel of my dick inside you will bring you close to cumming, feeling better and better, going right to the edge. But you won’t cum until you hear me say the words, ’Cum for me’. What are those words, Sara?”

She repeated them: “Cum for me.”

“When I say that, Sara, and you do cum, it will wash over you, making you feel so wonderful and relaxed, safe and loved, filled with bliss. You won’t remember me saying the phrase, because it will be lost in the orgasm.”

“And, Sara, even when we’re not making love, you’re going to feel like you can trust me with anything, that there’s nothing you couldn’t say to me. You’ll feel completely safe. You can share your secret fantasies, the things that turn you on, and the things that don’t. And because you feel safe, you’ll want to make me feel like I trust you, so you’ll feel comfortable with trying my sexual fantasies, too, so you can make me feel good, too. Can you do that, Sara?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“That makes me happy, Sara. Now I’m going to clap my hands, and when I do you’ll forget that I said anything, but you’ll remember all the things that were said, as if you thought of them yourself. All right, Sara?”


I clapped my hands once and continued pulling the zipper down. Her breathing got quick and shallow again, and her body felt like it was vibrating. When the zipper got to the bottom, I peeled the dress off her—and it did feel like peeling, the dress was so tight on her body—and she stepped out of it, still looking at me. She dropped it on a chair.

She was wearing black lace underwear and looked so hot. “God damn, Sara, look at you, you’re gorgeous. Turn around for me, please.”

She didn’t want to take her eyes off me, so she turned her body, watching me, until her head wouldn’t turn anymore, then she quickly turned it around so she was looking at me from the other side.

I grabbed at her, pulling her close, because I had to touch everywhere now. She was almost panting as my hands grabbed at her. I squeezed her butt, and let my hand brush between her legs. She moaned. When I placed one hand on a boob and wrapped my fingers around it, she said, “Oh, yes, Sam.”

Her bra was in the way now, so I wrenched at the clasp until it came undone, and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples were hard, sticking straight out. I needed to see if the instructions took. I leaned down, took her nipple in my mouth and sucked.

“Oh, GOD, Sam, that feels so good.” I pinched the other one and she moaned, “Yes, baby, that’s it.”

While I was licking her nipple, I dropped my hands to her waist and slid her panties over her hips. With a little nudge, they fell to her ankles and she was naked.

I stood up and pulled her in so our bodies were touching along their length and she gasped and cried out, “Yes, baby, do that!”

I hadn’t actually done anything, but I had told her she would feel pleasure when our bodies touched, just as she had when I touched her hand. The feeling of all the parts of our bodies touching brought her close to cumming. She was breathing rapidly now, feeling so close to the edge that she could almost step off.

We both fell onto the bed, trying to get as much of our bodies close together as we could. I was kissing her mouth, her chin, her earlobe, and running my tongue down the side of her neck, while she whimpered under me.

I got my mouth onto her breast again and when I sucked her nipple, she demanded, “Yes, do that, do that!” Some small part of my mind, the part that contained the ascetic scientist, was still taking notes, making entries in the mental journal, noting which parts of the experiment worked as expected. It made a checkmark here.

I moved down her body, intent on looking for another checkmark, but I paused to admire the texture and smell of her skin. She was so firm and toned—that’s the swimming—and it felt lovely under my lips. By the time I got to her hips, she was gasping and moaning in anticipation of what she thought was about to happen.

I ran my tongue over her pubis and down her slit, but I was careful to avoid her clit. I had noticed that subjects tended to take the instructions literally, and I had said ’tongue or lips on clit’, so I licked her slit, and even tongue-fucked her a bit, but no clit. And sure enough, she didn’t cum. But she did get close. Checkmark.

I rolled her over on her stomach, and once again my breath got caught in my throat and I almost said out loud, “Damn, what a fucking beautiful ass!” Instead, I leaned down and kissed and licked her butt, and she exclaimed, “Sam, that feels so GOOD, I’m so close!” Checkmark.

But here’s the real test, because she hadn’t liked this at all last time. I continued to kiss and lick her ass, and with two thumbs I pulled the cheeks of her butt apart and poked my tongue into her asshole and wiggled it.

“Fuck, Sam, you make me feel like a slut when you do that, you bastard! If it didn’t feel so good I’d hit you.”

I kept doing that while her ass squirmed under me, my tongue getting it very wet. I may have been misreading the situation but it certainly felt like she was pushing her ass into my tongue. Well, here’s where we find out for sure. Might also be the moment when she throws me and my clothes out the front door and locks it behind me, too.

I stuck my index finger in my mouth to moisten it, then placed it on her asshole and pushed. It slipped in. She went rigid and quiet. Then, there was a low grunt that turned into a wail, and she cried, “Oh! Oh, my GOD! Oh, fuck, yes, yes!” She continued gasping for several seconds, then finally went loose and collapsed onto the bed and gave a long moan. My finger was still moving slowly in and out of her butt, until she pushed it away.

I moved halfway up her body and put an arm around her. She was breathing deeply and evenly, and I felt no tension in her body. At some point she reached one hand down until she touched my shoulder.

“I feel like I did something wrong, like I shouldn’t have gotten off like that, that it was improper. I’ve never done that before, it always felt like it was weird, kinky. But this time as soon as your finger went in, even though I had the same emotional reaction, my body was doing something different and before I could even finish the thought there was an orgasm washing over me and it seemed to last a really long time. It’s like there were two voices, and one was saying ’Don’t, that’s dirty and repulsive’ and other was saying ’It feels so good, don’t stop.’ I don’t understand me sometimes.”

I was quiet for a bit, because I didn’t want to get in a long conversation about right and wrong, but I eventually said, “I don’t know enough about your background to speculate, but in society as a whole a lot of our sexual norms are established by culture, religion, political preferences and so on, all of which have opinions about what’s normal and what’s acceptable. And those opinions have more to do with maintaining their own importance in the social hierarchy than with objective opinions about right and wrong. So don’t beat yourself up if you grew up believing that certain sexual practices are ’acceptable’ and others are not.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ll have to think about that for awhile. But, Sam?”


“I came really hard.”

“I loved watching you cum, Sara. It’s such a rush.”

She rolled onto her side and pulled me in close to her body, putting her hands on the back of my head, just holding me. It wasn’t explicitly sexual, just a closeness that two people might enjoy. After awhile I started kissing her stomach, which was where my head was, because her skin felt nice and soft under my mouth.

I reached around and got my arms under her hips at her waist, just to hold her while I kissed. Gravity eventually brought me down to her hipbone, and from there it was only a short trip to her pussy. Her breathing had gotten a little faster as she realized where I was headed.

I moved myself so I was more centered and started from her landing strip and moved lower. Again, I avoided touching her clit just for now, but below her clit I started licking her pussy all down the slit, in places planting kisses instead. At the entrance to her pussy I tongue-fucked her again making her moan and say, “Ah, fuck, so close, so close.”

I made a mental note to think about later, specifically how interesting it was to be able to skip many steps in the usually long arousal process, and bring her quickly to a state just before orgasm. I wondered if that might somehow be too fast. Was that short-circuiting it in some way?

Scientists are always thinking too much, or over-thinking, one or the other. I returned my attention to the matter at hand, and worked my tongue side to side up her slit until just below her clit, and I held it there, flicking, to tease her.

She was tensing now, I could feel it, talking to me in her mind, saying, “C’mon, why’re you waiting, move up!” But I stayed right there, licking back and forth, until she begged me, “Please, Sam, I need it, do it now, please!”

Well, the point was to tease her, leave her hanging on the edge so the orgasm would feel better. It was for her own good, I told myself, but I really did like watching her cum, so I moved just a couple of millimeters higher and bingo! she went off, shouting.

“Oh, baby, right there, oh, yes! I’m cumming!”

And as she started to go off, I slipped two fingers into her cunt and started fucking her with them. Her upper body jerked up off the bed and she slapped two hands on the back of my head and imprisoned me while she shouted, “Oh, God, that’s so good, yes!”

Her lower torso was vibrating and it felt like she was trying to get my fingers deeper in her pussy. It went on for awhile, and died down slowly, until she finally sank back on the bed and stopped moving altogether. She lay there, eyes closed, with the loveliest little smile on her face.