That First Interview

by Claudia Rose

  I was naked.

  Chapter 3

  There I was, completely nude, a few scant undergarments setting off my bare breasts and exposed pussy. But, frustratingly, the earth didn’t stop turning, and Professor Tremayne didn’t appear to be regarding me any differently than when I’d been sitting before him fully clothed. In many ways it was an anti-climax. I thought there should have been a more gratifying reaction than the one that I actually received.

  Instead, he looked down once again and wrote something else in the file. While he did so, I stood before his desk like a naughty schoolgirl and worried about where to put my hands. It would be ridiculous to place them over the light brown curls of my pussy (not a word I used, or had even heard of in those days, by the way), if I put them behind my back I’d look like even more like a schoolgirl waiting in front of the headmaster, and if I folded my arms I’d look like I was being defensive. In the end I let them drop loosely at my sides. By the time I’d decided on this course of action, he’d stopped writing and was looking at me once again.

  “Thank you, Mrs Bryce. Would you mind turning around with your back to me for a moment.” I did so, and looked at the door I’d come in only a few minutes—and an entire lifetime—ago, and tried to imagine what he was making of my ass.

  “Excellent,” he said with an air of finality. “Now, I’ll examine you in a moment, but first please have a seat while I ask you some questions.”

  I sat down on the seat I’d used when I first entered, and he began asking me about my upbringing (had my parents told me about sex, and so on). He also asked me about beginning menstruation, my periods, the birth of my children, when I’d lost my virginity, my first experience of sex, and what my sex life had been like with Billy.

  I answered as best I could, all the while sitting naked across from him, only three feet of desktop between us, my legs crossed and my hands resting demurely in my lap. The funny thing was that as time went by I felt less and less conscious of my nudity and could even feel myself relaxing. It was totally surreal, but also quite pleasant, to be sitting in this stranger’s office unclothed. I felt a delicious sensation of wickedness growing within me. That disappeared when he abruptly asked me a question that left me bewildered.

  “Do you masturbate often, Mrs Bryce?”

  “I beg your pardon, Professor, I don’t know what that word means.”

  “My apologies, Mrs Bryce. What I mean is, do you often use your hand or another object to stimulate yourself sexually?”

  “I’m sure I don’t Professor!” I was feeling embarrassed and I must have sounded more than a little indignant at his question. “I truly have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “No idea at all, Mrs Bryce?” His brow furrowed quizzically. “Have you never had a sensation of rubbing or pressure between your legs that aroused you sexually, perhaps while riding a horse or a bicycle?”

  “No Professor.”

  He sighed a little and looked concerned.

  “I’m sorry Mrs Bryce. I have no wish to embarrass you. But it is vital that my subjects are capable of normal sexual response or they are of no use to me. It may be that you are frigid Mrs Bryce. In no way should you construe that as a criticism, but it would mean that we would be unable to work together. I must attempt to determine whether this is the case. Are you prepared to allow me to assess this aspect of your sexual functioning? I warn you now that it will involve some extremely intimate touching.”

  I didn’t know what frigid meant, but I didn’t like the sound of it, and now that I’d come this far I didn’t want to fail. I answered him with all the dignity I could muster.

  “Professor, I have said already that I want to participate in you research. Please do what ever you have to.”

  “Very well, Mrs Bryce. If you are certain, then please come through with me to my examination area.”

  Chapter 4

  The Professor rose and I followed as he led the way through a side door into an adjoining room. It looked a lot like a doctor’s surgery. There was an examination bed, an array of medical instruments, and a piece of equipment I’d come across when I was having my children, a reclining seat with stirrups. Professor Tremayne pointed to it, and asked me to sit in it and put my feet in the straps. As I did so, he pulled up a small stool and seated himself before me. Whatever my feeling of embarrassment earlier, it now paled before the fact that this man was positioned between my spread legs with his face less than two feet from my very exposed pussy.

  The sense of unreality about this whole afternoon heightened even further. That such a thing could be happening to me was far beyond my wildest imaginings. Professor Tremayne, however, resumed chatting as if it were all perfectly normal.

  “I’ll assume that you’re not completely familiar with this part of your anatomy, Mrs. Bryce, and hope I don’t unwittingly offend you. I’ll position this mirror here between your legs and will you please tell me when it exactly reflects your genitalia.”

  This he did, and what I saw shocked me entirely. As I said, I’d never really looked at myself naked, and I’d certainly never looked at my pussy, let alone explored it. Yet now this man, a stranger, was sitting between my legs, using a little mirror fixed on a metal arm to show me what I had down there.

  He was very direct, and very matter of fact. Starting from the back he pointed out my anus, my perineum, labia and so on. I was both repelled and attracted. The proper names sounded to my ears to be quite obscene. The lips of my pussy seemed quite red and swollen to me, and he pointed out the glistening pink inner lips protruding between the outer labia with a clearly visible slit between them.

  This was good, he said, evidence that there was in fact some arousal occurring. I noticed that towards the top of my pussy there was a large amount of hair, but that it thinned quickly further down.

  When Professor Tremayne had finished telling me a little about how everything worked, he began talking about the different modes of sexual stimulation available, although his talk of fingers, tongues, artificial devices, and penises was again too much for me and I remember blushing in confusion.

  “Now, Mrs Bryce. If you’ll put your hand down and touch your vagina, I’ll show you exactly where to rub to stimulate yourself.”

  I was shocked. There was no way I was touching myself in front of him, I’d rather anything than that.

  “I’m sorry Professor, I don’t want to be a prude, but I’m sure that’s not a right thing to do. Couldn’t you do it for me?”

  Professor Tremayne frowned.

  “That isn’t really ethical, Mrs Bryce. Personal physical contact with my subjects would compromise my independence as the person conducting the experiments.”

  “Well, then, I think we’ve reached an impasse Professor,” I said matter-of-factly as I began pulling my legs from the stirrups. “I just can’t bring myself to do such a thing in front of you.”

  His reaction was the most extreme response I’d had from him through the entire interview. He seemed genuinely alarmed.

  “Wait Mrs Bryce. You are such an ideal subject I would be sorry to lose you. I suppose that if I were to play semantic games I could argue that in effect this isn’t an experiment, simply an examination. While having contact with you under these conditions is a tricky situation, and far from ideal, it is perhaps not unethical. If you feel pleasure it will have been worthwhile. If not, then at least we can say we tried. If you are willing, I will attempt to stimulate you and we will see how things progress.”

  Do you want the truth now? I was secretly delighted. Sex with Billy hadn’t been that exciting, but it had at least been intimate contact. The last time we’d made love was over two years earlier and I’d not had a man for all that time. The thought of being touched intimately by this beautiful man was very exciting to me. What the heck, I thought, wasn’t I totally naked already, why not go all the way?

  You can imagine my disappointment then, when he sat down and began gently stroking the upper part of my pussy with a
small, soft artist’s paintbrush. As he stroked, he talked.

  “What I’m doing, Mrs Bryce, is stimulating the area of your clitoris in a way that simulates a tongue licking you. The clitoris is the female equivalent of the man’s penis and there is a high concentration of nerves there. It is most likely that if you are capable of an orgasm this will bring you to a climax.”

  I closed my eyes in frustration, even though I had to admit, if only to myself, that the slow, soft strokes of the brush on my pussy were very erotic. It was a lovely feeling, and I knew then and there that I could surrender to it and have a wonderful time.

  I opened my eyes again and watched in the mirror still positioned between my thighs as Professor Tremayne’s strong, sculptured hand held the brush and gently stroked my pussy.

  Watching this was also very erotic, it was almost as if he were an artist and I was seeing him work on a new canvas, particularly as with each stroke things were swelling and getting wetter down there and the appearance of my pussy was subtly changing. God it felt good! But inside me, something wanted more. I’d persuaded the professor to accede to my request once, could I get him to go even further?

  With every fiber of my being I struggled to keep my voice level and not gasp as I addressed him in my best helpless voice.

  “Professor Tremayne?”

  “Yes, Mrs Bryce?” he replied, interrupting his strokes.

  “That’s very pleasant Professor, but I just don’t think it’s quite going to do what you want. Although I never knew before that people excited each other with their tongues Professor, I can imagine that if you were to try using your tongue on me we might just be more successful.”

  Professor Tremayne’s professional mask well and truly slipped at this new suggestion, and I could see that he was in a real quandary. His ethical standards were in conflict with his desire—although whether it was a desire to taste my pussy or a desire not to lose me as a subject, I’m still not sure.

  “Mrs Bryce,” he managed. “What you suggest is really very improper.”

  “I realize that Professor,” I let my voice quaver a little. “But I’ve come this far, and I so desperately want to help you with your research. Isn’t it worth a try?”

  What could he say? He sat back on his little stool and stared blankly at me for a while. But although his expression never altered perceptibly, there was a moment when it seemed that he began to see me differently.

  I could sense it when he started really looking at my tits—taking in those large, firm curvaceous mounds jutting proudly. And I could tell when his eyes traveled down to my exposed groin, not clinically but lustfully—to admire the available pussy of this beautiful stranger who less than an hour earlier had walked into his office unannounced, and who was now sitting before him in the most intimate pose imaginable. His tongue licked his lips, which had become quite dry, and then his top teeth worried his bottom lip. Abruptly he came to a decision and pushed the mirror aside. Then he looked me straight in the eye.

  “Mrs Bryce, I am acting against my better judgment and I fear that I will live to rue this. However, you are right that you have come this far, and it may be that I owe it to you to see how much further I can take you.”

  For a second longer he closed his eyes once more, then he opened them again and smoothly leaned forward between my legs. As he approached my pussy, I saw his mouth open and his tongue, with its tip narrowed to a point, extend delicately between his even white teeth.

  A second later it made contact, and I gave the very first moan of genuine, heart-felt, body-felt sexual pleasure that I have ever given in my life.

  God it was hot, and it was wet, and it carved a gentle furrow from the bottom of my pussy to the top. It was pure bliss. He explored every inch of my most private place with his questing tongue. He licked carefully around the outer lips, sucked deliciously at the places where the tendons of my upper thigh meet my groin, nuzzled firmly into my public mound, even dipped down and rimmed around my asshole.

  I had entered a world of unimagined sensations, each one delicious and unexpected. He traced the little gullies between my inner and outer labia and probed deeply inside me while the bridge of his fine nose pressed firmly against my clitoris. Finally he made his way up to this locus of pleasure that I had hitherto been ignorant of, and began doing what his paintbrush had been doing—only a thousand times better—his tongue gently but firmly stroking the area where my sensitive little nub nestled.

  And he had worried that I might be frigid! This was doing it, and doing it wonderfully. I could feel a tremendous pressure mounting inside me and although I’d never had an orgasm I knew something amazing was about to happen, knew it with every fiber of my being. I was going to come with the face of this marvelous, handsome, intelligent man clamped against my pussy.

  And why was he clamped there? Because I’d manipulated the situation to achieve just that—I might be a little widowed housewife, but I was in control and I’d made this professor, the supposed master of his experiment, carry out my will, when it was I who was meant to be one of his subjects.

  That thought excited me as much as anything he was doing to my pussy. A wanton wildness overcame me. Could I make him go one step further? Was it worth risking the loss of this pleasure to command even more from him? I decided to push my luck, I’d got this far, and maybe I could just go that final step.

  “Professor Tremayne,” I called once more in my quavery voice. He was at that moment rimming my asshole again, and all I could see was the top of his head, where his wavy black hair mingled with my own lighter brown pubic curls. He didn’t respond at first, possibly because my inner thighs were quite firmly pressing against his ears. “Professor!” I called again, a little more loudly. This time he stopped and looked up, his face shining with my juices but still managing to retain its air of authority.

  “Yes, Mrs Bryce?”

  “Professor, this is lovely, and I’m sure we’re going to succeed. But when I was with my late husband, I did find that I was most aroused when he entered me. I realize that you will have even greater ethical concerns about doing that, but it seems to me that if we’ve come this far it would make sense to go the whole way properly. I don’t want to compromise you, but surely this way you’ll know exactly whether I’m the sort of woman you need.”

  I felt almost sorry for him. His shoulders slumped a little, and his head dropped forward until his forehead was resting directly on my clit. God that felt so good. It was all I could do not to grab two handfuls of his gorgeous wavy hair, clamp my legs tight around his ears, and grind his face hard against my pussy until I came all over him in a screaming frenzy.

  Instead I fell absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe, while he made up his mind. Had I blown it all? Was he going to call a halt to things and send me out to dress and leave his office? All I could hear was my pulse beating loudly in my ears.

  Chapter 5

  Finally Professor Tremayne looked up, a small, ironic smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

  “Very well, Mrs Bryce. As you say, we have come this far and there can be no greater penalty if we go further. But I wonder, Mrs Bryce, just who is in charge here at this second.”

  I did my best to look confused and innocent. He smiled at this and went on.

  “Still, perhaps every person who conducts experiments upon other people needs to become the subject at least once. So, yes, we shall follow your suggestion and ‘do it properly.’ And let the cards fall where they may.”

  He stood up and calmly began to unbutton his lab coat. He’d seen through my subterfuge quite easily, and I was soon to discover that he’d decided to treat me to more than I’d bargained for.

  All the time he undressed, he kept his eyes fixed on me, sitting there in my compromising position. When his white coat was off he pulled his black polo-necked sweater over his head, exposing his torso. I recall that I gasped audibly. He was an Olympic swimmer, you know, and his chest and shoulders were just huge. They were brown
from the sun and heavily muscled. I was quite staggered, I’d never really thought of male bodies as capable of beauty, but his was.

  He didn’t delay, but shucked off his shoes, unbuckled his pants, and stepped out of them and his underwear in one fluid movement. I almost gave an even louder gasp when I saw his cock. I’d never looked closely at an erect male penis before, just felt one in the dark, and Professor Tremayne’s cock seemed huge to me. Later I’d realize that it was only a little larger than average, but on that day everything seemed magnified out of all proportion.

  Although he too was now naked, Professor Tremayne continued talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

  “As you can see, Mrs Bryce, my genitalia are aroused, as yours are. My penis has filled with blood and developed an erection, and my testicles are hard and swollen.”

  I was shocked then, because he moved around to stand beside me, so that my eyes were level with his cock.

  “To further stimulate me prior to coitus, Mrs Bryce, you can touch me with your hand and your mouth.” He took my hand and placed it on his cock, his organ was burning hot and seemed to leap beneath my fingers as if it had a life of its own.

  “Now rub your hand up and down it, Mrs Bryce. As you can see, I am circumcised, which is why the glans, or head, is so prominent.”

  I touched it gingerly as he clearly expected me to.

  “Now run your fingers down my shaft, and then feel my testicles.”

  Again I complied, both alarmed and excited by what he was asking.

  “Good,” he said. “Now lick the head of my penis with your tongue.”

  I was aghast.

  “I beg your pardon, Professor, I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Nonsense, Mrs Bryce,” he replied, impatient for the first time. “If I can stimulate you orally, then you can return the courtesy by doing the same for me.”

  I couldn’t really argue with that, so timidly I did, as he demanded. It wasn’t too bad, actually, and I followed his directions to the letter. I licked and sucked the head of his cock, I ran my tongue up and down its length and I even took his balls into my mouth.