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Author; Ace, Storyace
Codes; M/F, T/F, MM/F, F/F, young/old, interrac., etc.
Summery; An ethnic Indian girl living in the U.S. is conned into having a hell of a lot of sex in the name of science. With some of the strangest people, too. An old man, a dwarf, a transexual…
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Case No. 243 -- 1985 ms. Shakti Mukargi
Case No. 243 -- 1985 ms. Shakti Mukargi
Confidential; for the eyes of Dr. Lewis only
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 immobilized], 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. "how old are you?"
"19. 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.
"we humans are very artificial these days, we have thousands of years of culture burying our basic instincts. It's very hard to separate these things, and that's what my experiments are designed to do. Now you say you're a physicist, so you know the importance of experiments. Just as you physicist's need certain facilities, so do we psychologists. If I want to find out how a man reacts to the actions of an attractive female, I need an attractive female to work with.
"sex is no different from our other biological functions, like eating, sleeping, going to the toilet. It's just something our bodies are made to do. We can choose not to do it, or to do it, it doesn't matter. Now you miss Mukargi, if you're willing, would be the perfect facility for my experiments. In the correct setting, you would bring out the most primal urge in any of my test subjects."
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. It was for science, the professor had said, to help tease out human sexuality and add to our body of knowledge.
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 choked slightly; somehow I had imagined it would be another student, not someone twice my age. But if I had wanted a date, then I should have gone out with one of the nice boys who'd asked me. This wasn't supposed to be romance, but research.
So 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, as if he was already my lover.
"Hi" I said, simply, looking into his dark eyes, our noses nearly touching.
"Hi!" he replied, enthusiastically, and kissed me full on the mouth.
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, on my barely clad bottom.
I was born and raised in America; I was not a virgin at nineteen. But almost. I'd had two boyfriends, each of whom I'd known for months before ever having sex with. As the stranger held me tightly against himself and I felt his tongue in my mouth, my heart began to race with conflicting sensations.
As I would have expected, I was disgusted, more with myself than the stranger. Yet simultaneously 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. He proceeded very slowly, much more patiently than either of the young men I'd known before. He seemed so happy just to kiss and cuddle with me, that I thought he was content with that.
But he slipped his hand into my panties and pulled them down after a while. I did nothing to stop him; I simply raised my legs as he pulled them off.
I shuddered in apprehension as he lifted my slip over my head so I was stark naked, then removed his own clothes.
He was a bit flabby around the middle, but well built. His penis was hard and hot against my skin as we embraced on the bed.
He pushed me onto my back and I forced my legs wide; It was an experiment, science! That's what I kept telling myself. It was all ok, the stranger would put his big hard penis in me, but it was no big thing. I wasn't a virgin, this was the 21st century. I would not be harmed in any way, having sex with this man was not going to change who I was. All I had to do was relax, and it would soon be over.
But he didn't do what I expected; he lowered his balding head between my thighs, and put his tongue there first. It tickled me, it made me wet. It made me want the next part, for him to do it to me.
And of course he did; I held his hot old cock in my own hand as he pushed it inside my ready young body. I lifted my hips impatiently, actually eager to feel him in me at last. It's embarrassing to admit that I actually wanted him. As I said, he wasn't a man I would normally find attractive. I hadn't ever had casual sex. But after being with him that way for over an hour; both of us naked, kissing and caressing, fondling each other's sensitive areas, I must tell the truth; I needed to finish what we'd begun. I needed to feel his big body on top of me, his hard old cock inside me. Some part of me was as primal and primitive as the man between my legs.
but then as his pale penis began to push past my defenses, I felt a sudden panic. What was I doing? How had I been talked into doing such a thing?
My body opened to receive him, the primal urge to mate could not be denied. Although he was twice my age, from a different race, his penis fitted perfectly inside my body. Despite my reservations, my upbringing, everything I knew to the right, the physical sensation was wonderful, natural, primal.my arms and legs wrapped around his large body, holding him tightly. I needed him there at that moment, his hot organ buried in my center. It was just as Prof. Sloan had said, my primitive instincts completely overriding my culture and logic.
my pudgy lover began to move above me, driving his big penis in and out of me , pumping vigorously. I had never had an orgasm before; when I felt myself contracting and my heart racing, I didn't know what it was at first. As the waves of pleasure washed across me, I looked into his brown eyes helplessly. But he just carried on, as the feelings subsided and then began again before he stiffened and groaned, holding me in a bear like hug as he released himself.
"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. He said it was good that I took their sex organs in my mouth, and said I should doing that.
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 stripped 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 anus. 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 recognized 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 straight 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 clothes 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 clothes 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, straight 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".
"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?
send any and all comments to; firstname.lastname@example.org I need those letters, folks...
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