Sarah and the Human Sexuality Lab

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When I was in college I had to take part in psychology experiments as part of my credit for my grade in two classes.

Every week professors and grad students put up the information about their studies, and students would gather around after class, trying to find the easiest and least time consuming studies they could based on the limited information they could give us.

There was a listing for a study that everyone else ignored, it said in bold letters at the top: “This study is off campus. You will have to sign a legal waiver and pass an exam to be included. Participants could be eligible for a cash award, and more work in the future.”

My curiosity was piqued when I saw the study was run by one of my previous professors. This man reminded me of a young Dr. Drew.

I started college late so I was 28, he was I guessed 35. He didn’t wear a wedding ring and rumor had it that he was divorced. He was passionate about his field, super intelligent, very handsome, and talked in a gentle yet over professional way that just made me want to rip his clothes off and mess up his hair, seduce him just to see what he was really like behind his professional demeanor.

When he was lecturing sometimes he would look right at me, right into my eyes and I would feel my heart beating faster, a tingly feeling starting in my thighs.

I started to wear short skirts to class, and I would always catch him staring at my legs. I ran cross country in high school, and have kept up my running to this day. The three miles a day paid off every time I caught him watch me cross my legs while he pretended to listen to another student’s question.

On alternate days I wore deep cut shirts. For some reason after high school (after I started the pill) my breasts went up two cup sizes, making running difficult of course, but I invested a lot in good bras.

Sometimes I’d wear a scarf to hide my cleavage, then start playing with it in class, untying it, lifting it up to tease him. Or I would push my long hair in front, covering everything and then push it all back when I knew he was looking in my direction.

Since he was on a raised stage he could look right down my shirt. It’s amazing that I managed to get an A in that class solely based on my test scores because I was distracted constantly.

To add to his attractiveness, he was a fit athlete with broad shoulders under his button down shirts. He was also one of the most respected faculty in the department. He had an MD and a PhD. Getting in good with him could lead to working with him and his research, which could be a huge help for getting into graduate school.

He had regular office hours but I just couldn’t bring myself to go. I was too afraid of what I might do or say, afraid that I would go too far and he would feel uncomfortable. Or that we would end up fucking and I’d get one or both if us thrown out for an inappropriate faculty/student relationship.

But he required us to visit him one time, three fourths of the way through the semester. As usual I had on a short skirt. I didn’t like to wear short skirts and low cut shirts at the same tim on campus. It wasn’t worth the harassment.

At that time I changed my hair color on a monthly basis. When I walked in, I could tell he didn’t recognize me, I had gone from blonde to dark black with purple streaks the day before.

He looked at me with a huge smile on his face and said “Hi!” I could tell he didn’t recognize me as a student. His demeanor was too friendly and social.

“Hi I’m here for our meeting.” He looked so hot when he was out of his usual professor act. His dark hair had a bit of gray at the sides, he was clean shaven and as usual he looked like he probably smelled amazing.

“Oh! Oh.” He immediately sprang back into professional mode. He looked down at a sheet and said “You are Sarah?”

“Yes, that’s me.” I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

As we discussed my progress over the semester and went over my thesis for my final paper I tried not to stare at him too much. He obviously was trying not to stare at me.

I found myself playing with my hair. A few times our eyes locked. He had amazing yellow-green and brown eyes. I had never seen eyes before that color. It seemed like every time I looked at him they changed color a bit.

I felt my pulse start to race and crossed my legs. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I have never seen eyes as blue as yours before.”

Oh crap, I’m going to leap over this desk, straddle him and fuck him right here in his office. Even with the door open.

“Thanks.” I got that a lot. I paused for a few seconds. “They’re real too.”

” What?” He had half a smile.

“They aren’t contacts.”

He took in a deep breath and shook his head. “Well that’s good to know.”

“I don’t like fake things.” We just stared at each other again. I could feel myself getting wet just thinking about him touching my breasts, sucking on my large pink nipples.

“Ok, well I think your thesis is fine, just remember to be careful tuzla escort with your sources like I said.”

He stood up and said, “I think you are doing great.” He put his hand out and I realized he was probably three inches taller than me making him six feet tall. Perfect.

I shook his hand, not wanting to let go. “Sara really if you want to talk about grad school my door is open. Just let me know. I’m here for my students.”

“Ok I’ll do that.” It felt like electricity traveling up my arm from his hand. I swear this man had to be a secret perv like me.

That was the only direct interaction with him. After that I started dating a guy and I just didn’t want to risk our relationship for a fling with the Dr. We broke up after the semester was over because he only wanted sex once a week and was selfish in bed.

I called the number that evening. A woman answered and asked me a list of basic questions. After about five minutes she said “What is your sexual status?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you a virgin?” I started to laugh. “God no.”

“How many partners have you had?”

“Around ten considering what your definition of sex is.”

“And what is your preference and gender identity?”

“I’m a straight female.”

“Ok and how often do you masturbate?” What kind of a study is this?

“Every day. Sometimes more than that.”

“Ah ha…” She is shuffling papers around.

“What is the most amount if orgasms you have ever had in one session?”

“Five?” I guess.

“And how many have you had with other people in one session?”

“Probably the same,” I say. Is that a lot?

She asks me my height and weight, about my health history. I tell her I’m in great health.

“Ok. Well we actually have a few studies. As you know part of good research includes the subjects not knowing what they hypothesis is that is being tested. However I can tell you that we are studying female sexuality, specifically females with high desire who are multi orgasmic.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to think. “I’m not going to be video taped am I? And no photos.”

“No, nothing like that. Measurements are all done with our instruments and the data is fed to our system anonymously. Once you are in the study no one involved will even know your name, you will just have a number.”

“And I can get paid for this?”

She tells me yes, and assures me that I can stop at any point in any of the tests if I feel uncomfortable or just want out.

“If you want to come in and see the lab first and get an information sheet with your rights and responsibilities you can do that too.”

I agree to go to the lab the next day. I had no idea Dr. Masters was involved in sexual research, but he always had a strange gleam in his eye, like he was capable of anything.

That night I lay in bed thinking about what it would be like if he saw me going into the lab, if he knew I was part of the high desire group. I can’t help myself, I grab my vibe and make myself cum imaging fucking him.

“Cum for me now Sara,” I can almost hear him say it, I can almost feel his hands on my breasts, pinching my nipples, breathing into my ear, “God, your pussy is so tight, you are so wet, cum for me again”. I can feel him pushing his cock all the way inside, then pulling back to rub the tip on my G spot.

I can hear myself moaning, hoping the neighbors in the next apartment can’t hear me.

I have to change the sheets, I was so turned on I squirted a little.

What do you wear to the sex lab? And then I start to question myself. What if there is no sex lab? What if it’s all a just an experiment to see how women react when they think they are in a sex lab?

I choose expensive jeans and a tight shirt with a V neck that shows off my cleavage. It’s something I would wear on campus. Not too slutty, not too frumpy.

I drive to the industrial park. When I get there I’m suddenly struck by the idea that maybe this isn’t sanctioned by the university, maybe this is some kind of attempt to kidnap women and make them slaves.

I get out my cell phone and call the department main office. I confirm the address with the department secretary who tells me I’m in the right place. “We just didn’t have the room on campus now with all the construction.”

I’m so nervous, I feel like I can’t breathe as I walk in. A secretary sitting behind a desk points to a sign in sheet.

I sign in, she gives me a ton of paperwork to read and sign and fill out. It all looks like it’s on the up and up. I hand it back to her. She’s on the phone.

“Ok just wait now,” she points back to the lobby. “Uh huh. And what’s your sexual status?” She asks someone on the phone.

I try not to look too nervous, aware that the experiment could be starting now. They could be watching me.

I try to look nonchalant as I log in to Facebook, tempted to put a “guess where I am” status up.

The front door opens and a male student walks in. I avoid eye contact. This is worse ucuz escort than the sex toy store.

He sits down across from me and fills his paperwork out, and I wonder what kind of a study he is here for.

Trying not to look at him, but he is well built, but not too big. He is at least six feet tall, has a ton of straight short brown hair sticking up all over.

He kind of looks familiar.

I decide I would have sex with him but not in a lab.

“Number 212!” I hear a man’s voice call. Oh that’s me now. I get up and see a man about thirty holding a clip board. He looks professional and has a doctorly air to him. My guess is he’s a med student.

I love med students.

We go into a very small room. “Hi. I’m a medical student. Is it ok if I ask you some questions,” he asks. I knew it. He is someone I would definitely have sex with, which makes me at once more turned on and more uncomfortable.

“That’s fine.” I say.

“Ok, when was your last orgasm?”

“Last night. I was alone.” I say looking around. He writes it down. “Are you ok with us using internal measuring devices? Intra vaginal? A senior staff member will have to place the device, it’s like a quick pelvis exam.”

“What do they measure?”

“Blood flow, moisture, strength and length of orgasm.”

I’ve heard of them but it makes me nervous. “Well how big is it?”

He smiles. “It’s just about the width of my pen. We like to give you extra room for you to use other instruments of pleasure. Those will sometimes need to be placed by staff too.” He smiles like he just told me he’s prescribing me antibiotics.

I squirm in my seat. I feel heat rising. “I think that would be ok.”

“And you will need to wear a gown with nothing on underneath it. Is that ok?”

“Yes.” I still don’t know what is going on.

“Do you have any questions?” He asks.

“Will there be other people with me who can see me?”

“Only if you want there to be.” I’m blushing now.

“Ok so when do we start?”

“You can start now if you want. There’s a preliminary exam to get an idea of your health and response level.”

I’m so nervous and horny I don’t know what to say. “Well I think now would be good.”

My legs are shaking. I follow him down a hallway, it looks like it could be a lawyer’s office. Everything is well decorated and well lit. Expensive art lines the walls.

“And we are here in suite 3.” He opens the door. “All the suites are soundproof for your privacy and that of the other participants. If you would take your clothes off, and put this gown on after I leave, someone will be in shortly”

I am in a room about ten feet by ten feet. It looks like a living room, with a deep sofa and flat screen TV, a book case full of psychology books, and deep carpeting, except there is an exam table on one side by the wall.

Off the room is a large bathroom with a sunken tub, a separate shower and dual sinks.

I look around to see if I can find any cameras. I can’t find any. There aren’t any suspect large mirrors except in the bathroom. I shut that door. I take off my clothes and put the gown on. It is tiny.

I hear a knock. “Come in,”

The door opens and my heart skips a beat. It’s Dr. Masters.

“Hi! He comes over and shakes my hand. “Thanks for being in the study! We know you have a lot of research options.”

I squirm in my seat. My breasts are practically busting out the top of the gown. I can’t cross my legs because my ass would hang out.

“Are you ok?” He asks with a concerned furrowed brow that makes me want him even more. Oh my god all I need is for him to have a stethoscope around his neck.

“I’m just nervous. I didn’t know it was going to be you in here.”

“Oh yes, you were in my biological psychology class last semester. You always sat in the second row? You always had different hair colors?”

“Yes.” He remembers me. My hair is back to blonde. “Blonde is nice for you.” I toss my hair back. “Thanks!”

He starts to look me up and down and says “I’m sorry, he should have told you, the gown needs to open in the front. You can tie it closed and we have sheets to cover you so you aren’t fully exposed.”

He tells me to go in the bathroom and turn it around and then void my bladder. I go in with the lights off in case it’s a two way mirror and flip it around. Now my ass is covered but my breasts are popping out between the ties.

I tie the bottom shut to cover my pussy which is already wet just at the thought of him touching me. I realize that most women my age shave everything but now I’m a little embarrassed. Thankfully I just had a Brazilian a week ago and I’m still bare.

When I come into the room there is a female seated on a chair in the corner. She looks to be about my age.

“This is Sheila, we have to have a female present for this part. She is going to take notes, is that ok?”

She has a small tablet and starts typing away on it with a bored look on her face. Somehow her being in the ümraniye escort room makes me feel better and worse. My fantasy about grabbing him and pulling his pants off is not going to happen.

“Ok can you get on the table for me?” He pats the table.

“He opens the top drawer on the table and pulls out a stethoscope. I think I’m going to stop breathing.

“I’m just going to listen to your heart.” He looks down at my chest and says “would you mind untying the top part for me?”

I can’t believe I’m showing my tits to him. “That’s better. Now I can get to your heart. Sorry if this is cold.”

He puts the stethoscope right above my left breast. He moves it around a little. “There’s a lot of tissue here. I’m just trying to get a good read.” He’s so professional about it I can’t stand it. “Heart seems to be racing a little.

That’s normal.”

“Ok now if you wouldn’t mind. You can retie that.” I tie it again. A little sad that he didn’t really get a good look.

“Alright lay down please, with your feet in the stirrups. Like at the gynecologist’s office.” I lay down and get my self in the position. He puts a sheet over my torso. “So you don’t get cold.”

His face is right between my legs! He can see that I’m already wet. I don’t know what to think.

He turns on a light. “Ok. General external visual exam is good.” I hear him putting on gloves. “And I’m going to touch your vulva now.”

The light feels warm, and I feel him opening my labia, I take in a deep breath. “Sorry.” He says. Don’t be sorry.

“Labia appear normal, intact and healthy.” His fingers trace the inside of my labia up to my clitoris. “No cysts or scarring,” he says as Sheila types.

“I’m going to examine your clitoris now. This is going to be different from a normal pelvic. Ok?”

It already is. I feel myself getting more wet, blood racing to my pussy. I can practically feel his breath. “It’s ok.”

His fingers slowly trace up to my clitoris on each side. I can feel it’s already enlarged. He pushes down on each side gently, then while pushing down uses his thumb to push the hood back.

I feel my clit throbbing. “Normal response, good hood movement, clitoris is moving normally. Clitoris is slightly engorged, located right under the hood. No abnormalities.”

“You ok?” He asks.

“Yes. This is just weird.”

“Try to keep breathing. All your reactions so far are normal and indicate everything is healthy. I have a few more things to check.”

His fingers drop. “I need to check you internally now. If you feel pain let me know. It might be slightly uncomfortable.”

I close my eyes and say, “ok.” I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this man to touch my pussy.

His finger gently touches my opening. “Are you using a speculum?”


“What are you testing?”

“We are getting a baseline for how big of an instrument you can take.” What?

“I just don’t know if I want to do that.”

He takes his gloves off and throws them away. He comes over and stands by my head. I check to see if he has a hard on. I’m sad to not see one.

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?”

“I just feel weird with her here. Can’t you just dictate your notes? And what if I have an orgasm?”

“Sheila can you leave please? Give me the tablet with the voice recording program on.” She makes a few taps, gets up and says “I need to ask you before I go, are you saying you want to do this alone with him with no female chaperone present?”

“Yes that’s what I’m saying.” She shakes her head, looks at him and whispers, “Great decision,” and leaves.

“Ok, some women in this study do have an orgasm during this part. Are you ok with that?” He looks at me again with the concerned furrowed brow. “Yes I’m ok with that. But I don’t want to get you messy.”

“It’s fine.” He gets a lab coat and buttons it up. He stands next to me and holds my hand. “If you want to stop we can. Right now.”

You better not stop! “No it’s fine. I want to be a part of your research.”

He squeezes my hand and smiles. The more concerned and respectful he is, the more I want him inside me. I squeeze his hand back hard and try to send him a mental message. “Just fuck me.”

“Ok here we go.” He goes back to his seat and I hear a drawer opening. He puts on gloves, and this time I feel two fingers right at my pussy, gently pushing inside me.

“Like I said, let me know if this hurts.”

He pushes his fingers deep inside me and I gasp. “Good lubrication,” he pushes up against my G-spot. I moan. “Response to Graffenberg is good.”

He keeps pushing on it, releasing and then thrusting his fingers back up. I can feel myself starting to build, I’m getting wetter. I want him to fuck me now.

“Lubrication increasing. Clitoris and labia appear to be fully engorged.”

Every time he describes me clinically it turns me on even more.

He pulls his fingers out and I want to cry. I hear him pull something out of the drawer again. “Ok this is going to be larger.” He slowly slides it inside of me. I gasp and moan a little. It feels like hard rubber.

“I don’t even have to use extra lubrication with you.” His professional demeanor is fading.

He starts pushing it in as far as it will go. I’m so turned on I just want to come but I don’t want it to be over. He slowly pushes it in and out and in and out.

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