The Experiment

The day went well, and I had no entries until the late afternoon when I decided to walk from Park Street Station over Beacon Hill to a restaurant along the river. A female bike messenger was pumping hard up the hill in the one-gear bike they seem to all use:

"Female bike messenger stimulus/Under my breath cat call/Image: her forearm holding me down by across my neck as she fucks me."

That got me going, and the rest of the walk down the hill I was on the lookout. Then I found her, completely by chance. Yoga woman was walking uphill, and turned to enter what must have been her apartment. She looked a little like the grad student; it appeared she had just finished working out. Strange, I thought, does she work out twice a day? And what are the odds of seeing her outside my morning commute in this relatively large city, I asked myself? I had noticed stranger coincidences before, but it made the world seem pretty small:

"Blond yoga woman from subway entering apartment; perky breasts showing through leotard/Heart rate goes up/Image: tugging at her nipple with my teeth."

I continued walking, noting the number of her apartment. I rolled my cock inbetween my finger and thumb, through my jeans pocket. An erection was forming now, and I walked faster, past her apartment towards the river:

"Blond yoga woman stimulus/Erection/Image: pulling her mouth down to my erection."

I walked faster. This was getting to be too much for me to handle. The swishing motion of my faster pace rocked my balls back and forth, hardened me further.

I turned left on the main street, and found the place I had been wanting to try for dinner. I ordered pasta, and sat in a corner booth facing away from the room so I wouldn't have to deal with my eye catching the attention of another woman nearby. After the waitress left me with the menu and I caught a glimpse of her ass as she sashayed away, I couldn't take it any more. I pumped the side of the glans, through my jeans under the table. I pretended to watch the menu, but my eyes closed tight as I pumped semen in short bursts into my jeans, a large wet spot forming at the zipper and along my left leg. The orgasm was intense, without much release because I couldn't stroke the shaft. It rocked my body in waves, but I held dead still as it happened -- a challenge. After that and a glass of wine I noticed that my nerves had calmed.

"Waitress walking away with perfect ass/Erection/Image: forcing my cock into her tightness during her break in the washroom. Orgasm 3: alone, rubbing head hard with right hand through pants pocket, 2 minutes, orgasm in jeans; sticky but pleasurable."

The food was better than I had expected given the price, and when the waitress returned with the bill I blushed. She was gorgeous, and I hadn't noticed her ample bosom before. She caught me looking, and flirted with me.

"Come back again, we have a lot of specials," she said, winking. She turned and walked back to the bar counter for drinks for another customer.

Arriving home in the dark, I made a bowl of ice cream and sat and watched television for an hour before heading to bed.

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Jennifer got me going again at work on Thursday:

"Jennifer walking past my desk stimulus/Heart rate rising, flushing in my neck/Image: her flirting with me in a restaurant after work."

I hadn't ever asked Jennifer on a date, and to be honest I didn't really know much about her -- maybe she had a boyfriend. But that was what my mind moved to as I watched her go by.

I now had thirty four entries in my diary, and four orgasms. I'm not boasting, in fact I have no idea what is normal. I am just reporting the reality of my week.

Sitting at my desk near the end of the workday I remembered that I hadn't filled out the survey due Friday, and made a mental note to remember. It also meant that I would have to hand-deliver it to the hospital on my way to the office Friday which was a pain in the neck.

The weather was particularly nice, so I decided to walk part of the way home from work. I passed a construction site, with congested traffic. That was when I saw her. She was a strong-looking woman, in her forties I would guess. A cop. She wore a helmet, dark blue uniform, heavy black boots. Her gun was strapped on a large belt, with suspenders holding it and her other gear up on her waist. Here is the kicker, she was riding an large, elegant brown horse.

"Police woman stimulus/Fear response in the body/Image: woman lashing my arm with heavy leather strap."

I stopped and watched her. She watched over the traffic and the construction site, talking to some of the tourists walking by asking for directions. She was distinct looking to say the least. She was confident, certainly, and sturdily built, and good on a horse. I suppose that required real training.

"Police woman stimulus/Erection forming/Image: none."

I continued to watch her. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, so I positioned myself across the street and tried to be nonchalant near the light pole where I leaned. She rode down the stretch of road briefly, to the other end of the construction zone, talked to a flagman briefly:

"Police woman stimulus/Erection continued/Image: on her knees sucking off the flag man."

She turned the stallion, and he picked up into a trot as she came back down the avenue towards me. Traffic had started to flow again as the flag man let the cars by after a backhoe had departed. Then I noticed the horse had a partial erection as it ran towards me:

"Police woman and horse with partial erection stimulus/biting my lip, and erection/Image: woman pulling hard on the horse's erection."

I closed my eyes, and then saw in my mind's eye the horse having a full orgasm as the woman pulled hard on its erection. The semen poured out onto the ground, and she cried out as it released itself and shuddered in the haunches. Her hands double-stroking the eighteen inches of shaft, tugging hard on the length as the semen pulsed out. Her breasts bulging under the tight blue uniform. Her police helmet pressed against the horse's belly as she stroked it to completion. The gun and walkie talkie on her hips, rocking as she worked the cock hard.

That was an unusual fantasy -- I hadn't experienced that before. I shook my head, shook off the fantasy, and turned to walk away. When I was a hundred yards away I was tempted to look back, but I resisted the urge and continued walking. I hopped the subway at the nearest stop and was home by 6:30 pm.

As I entered my apartment, the phone was ringing. I picked up and heard the soothing woman's voice. She wanted to do a survey on technology purchase habits, and I consented. After a few minutes of the survey, I realized that her voice was incredibly sexy. I was stimulated by the sound of her voice:

"Woman performing phone survey stimulus/Relaxation response/Image: her talking in my ear as she strokes me very gently"

With the diary I was realizing that I found a broad range of interactions and experiences sexual. It was a learning experience for me. Some things I took for granted before were clearer now.

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The survey started with the easy questions again. My name, age, sex, address. All of this personal information was scrubbed of my name and address they promised me, but they wanted the information in case they had to contact me for clarification. Then suddenly I was in the thick of the hardest questions, most with check boxes depending on the answer, and some with fill in the blanks:

How often do you masturbate? (3 to 7 times per week) What is the most orgasms you have had in a day? (4) How many women have you had sexual relations with? (7) When did you you first have sex? (age 17)

These questions went on for pages. A few were a little more "challenging" for me to honestly answer:

Have you ever fantasized about sex with a man? (no) Have you ever had your partner discover you masturbating? (yes) What is the strangest place you have ever had an orgasm? (under the table at a restaurant) Are you a member of the mile high club? (depends what it takes to join the club exactly) Have you ever tried to have an orgasm but were unable to? (yes) How long after penetration do you typically have sex before having an orgasm? (5 to 10 minutes) Have you ever used pornography to stimulate yourself sexually? (yes)

And they continued to get harder:

Have you wanted to be dominated? (yes) Have you wanted to dominate your partner? (yes) Have you ever had sex with two or more people simultaneously? (no) How large is your erect penis measured from on the top side? (seven and one half inches) Do you fantasize about having sex with animals? (no) How long have you gone without an orgasm before (24 days)

After an hour I had filled in the twenty five page form. There were almost four hundred questions in total, spanning from my sexual history to my fantasies to my current sexual feelings. I was exhausted by the end, and I have to admit I was so pent up from the survey and the police woman sighting that I a lay on the couch and had a very long, intense masturbation session, which of course I made an entry for:

"Fantasy of mixed images and scenes/Erection/Images: police woman sucking my cock; police woman stroking the horse to orgasm; Jennifer running her hand over my thigh at restaurant; Jennifer rolling her thumb over my erection; kissing Jennifer in the hallway at work; Joan (my current girlfriend who is in Texas until Saturday) giving me a hand job in the car; police woman lashing me with the leather of her belt while stroking my cock; police woman lashing me while Jennifer took my cock in her mouth; Jennifer and police woman stroking my cock together. Orgasm 5: masturbation on couch, 40 minutes, direct stimulation, orgasm onto my shirt."

Thank the fucking lord I got that out of my system! I really need Joan to return from her business trip -- I was getting tired of doing this all alone! I showered, watched the news, and fell asleep on the couch.

============ =========== ============ ===========

I delivered the survey Friday morning. I wasn't expecting to see anyone at the office that early, but Dr. Harkness was there talking to several assistants. One was the perky blond. But my eye was drawn immediately to Dr. Harnkess instead:

"Dr. Harkness stimulus/Rapid breathing/Image: slapping my erection on her belly after having an orgasm."

"Jon, we didn't expect to see you," she said, interrupting her discussion with the others.

"Ah. I just finished the survey and figured it wouldn't arrive in time if I mailed it, so I am dropping it by," I replied.

She smiled, put out her hand for the survey, and thanked me. I could see her lips forming the smile:

"Dr. Harkness stimulus/Flush on my chest/Image: her tongue darting out to lick the wetness from the tip of my cock."

I high tailed it out of there -- too much stimulation for me I decided. I needed to focus on a big work deadline today, and I looked forward to Joan returning Saturday morning.

============= =========== ========= ==========

Joan's flight was late, and I reluctantly watched the stewardesses go through security. Some weren't interesting to me but occasionally one really got my attention:

"Brunette stewardess stimulus, heavy makeup/Tightening muscles in shoulders and belly/Image: watching my erection move between her heavily lip-stick covered lips."

Joan landed, and boy was I glad to see her. We had a big hug, went out for coffee together downtown, and returned to her apartment. She knew that after a week away it was unfair to torture me with no sex, so as soon as the door on her apartment slapped shut, her hands went below my belt, and she pushed me up against the wall. I stood while she unzipped me and stroked me. She pulled her shirt down, exposing her breasts, and pulled on my erection from a kneeling position. Then, to change the motion, she twisted her hand around and started a fast stroking motion upward:

"Joan returning home stimulus/Erection, tickle feelings, shaking/Orgasm 6: Joan hand job against the wall, orgasm onto her shoulders, breasts, and the floor."

We laughed after my orgasm, and started to make a big brunch together. We had bought ingredients and while I mixed eggs, she cut strawberries. I picked up a strawberry and popped it in her mouth, and she held it between her lips in that way that only a woman can do. She smiled while holding it, then bit down, and it crushed under her teeth. The smile was tantalizing, and intense. And she winked at me, pulling my back towards her. I lifted her up onto the counter:

"Joan flirting stimulus/Erection, relaxation feelings/Orgasm 7: lifted Joan onto kitchen counter, tugged down her skirt and gave her orgasm with mouth and tongue followed by sexual intercourse for 12 minutes and orgasm."

We ate together, did a crossword puzzle, and fell asleep for a while. The weekend was wonderful, filled with bookstore browsing, a dinner with friends across the city, and some long-overdue errands.

I sat Joan down on Sunday morning and told her about the sex survey.

"No shit!?" she said.

"Yes shit. I signed up for it, they interviewed me, and I am following through. It isn't hard, takes a little guts to be completely honest, but it is going pretty well so far," I told her.

We talked about it, and she was amazingly supportive. She offered to read my entries sometime if I wanted to share, but understood that it was very private as well. I found that enlightened. She said maybe some day she should do something like that. I told her that I was having a variety of fantasies and "events" each day and asked her if she experienced the same thing.

"I think some men think women never contemplate sex. But I do, and my friends do. We just don't share it, and sometimes it is more subtle than what you describe. For example, sometimes it is more, um, romantic, if you know what I mean? But sometimes not," she said.

"For example," she continued, "I was getting on the plane and there was this very tall man in line, handsome, middle aged. And I couldn't help but imagine myself on my knees with his erection. It must have been very large, and I wanted to try it, if that makes any sense?"

"Makes total sense. I have similar experiences with women that are tall or short, or have interesting bodies in some way or another. I don't act on the fantasies, if you can even call them fantasies, but I also don't deny that there are women that I see where my animal instinct is to just take them sexually right then and there," I replied.

We both smiled. She was glad I shared, she said, and we picked up our weekend where we had left off.

=============== ============ ========== =========

After two weeks of entries (212 in total), I had experienced twelve orgasms on my own, and seven with Joan. And my diary was done. I put it in the large Fedex package they had provided, and dropped it in the Fedex box at my office.

And, with the survey and diary behind me, I sort of forgot about the whole thing.

That is until three weeks later when a small legal-sized envelope arrived in the mail. In it I discovered the preliminary statistical breakdowns from the study as well as a brief letter requesting a follow-up interview back at the hospital. I checked a preferred time and date for the interview on the post card that was enclosed, put that in the mail, and one evening when Joan was out with friends I perused the results in more detail.

I was roughly in the middle of many of the distributions, like orgasms, number of entries (one woman had thirty seven, and one man had only two over the course of the two weeks). I was on the low end in terms of sexual interactions with a partner, but on the high end in terms of average length of time before orgasm. Five percent had had more than one partner in the two week period. Three percent fantisized about sex with an animal. Eighteen percent of men and sixteen percent of women considered themselves heterosexual but still fantasized about being with the same sex. Many more men than women wanted to have sex with multiple partners, and with more than one partner in one session. Whereas only four percent of the men had never masturbated, eleven percent of the woman didn't masturbate. The data went on and on, as the surveys combined with the diary entries provided a wealth of information. To be frank, it was sort of dry reading.

Four fantasies were typed up in full. They were each about three pages long, and I read them, back to back. One was by a woman who fantasized about being watched by several men while she masturbated for them. Another was by a man who wanted a woman to tie a ribbon around his testicles before sex so she could control him by tugging on the ribbon. All in all, they were poorly written, but still sexy, and I could feel myself getting excited reading them, and poring over all this other survey material.

I closed the door to the bedroom and masturbated, glad not to have to write it down in my diary. I took the ribbon fantasy further in my own mind, and had my cock tied in a ribbon at the base so it could still penetrate a woman. The woman tugged the two ribbons and controlled the sexual pleasure she received, running the soft ribbon along her clit as she pulled me into her. She stopped, tying knots every inch or so along the ribbon and started again. This time, as she tugged me forward, the knots would bump past her clit. And I pulled out, they would, again, rub along her clit. Within a couple minutes she was moaning as I fucked her -- and as she tightened on my cock I released my orgasm in my pumping fist, spraying cum up and onto my chest. It was a wonderful orgasm and fantasy.

============ ============ ========== ============

About ten days later got an email confirming the appointment time that I had selected on the card. I arrived at the hospital and sat in the waiting lounge for a few minutes before Dr. Harkness and another assistant came out to meet me. We shook hands and returned to the grubby office where we had first met. After some small talk, she took out a clipboard and asked me a series of questions about the survey, my overall attitudes of having participated in the study, and how I was feeling about myself sexually. I responded evenhandedly, and we were wrapping up the interview when Dr. Harkness took off her glasses, looked over at the assistant, and asked me if I would be interested in following up by assisting them with some experiments.

"What do you mean experiments?" I replied.

"Well, we are doing a follow-up study of a limited number of the survey participants. We are gathering statistical data on their sexual response. We would ask you to come into our lab and join in a series of sexual response analyses. You fit the profile of the kind of person that we would like in the experiment. Would you be willing to do that?" she asked.

I thought about it. The first study had been interesting, and even a little exciting. So I thought that more would be good.

"Sure," I said, "I would be willing to do that."

I signed more consent forms, and agreed to arrive at the lab's address at 4 pm the next day. Apparently I had to do a series of tests first to make sure I was truly suitable as a candidate.

I told Joan about it and she laughed.

"Maybe they will take your heart rate as you masturbate," she told me. "No need to go to the lab to learn what happens when you jack off," she said, winking at me.

We joked about it some more, and a part of me was anxious to enter into the experiment. I had no idea what to expect.

I left work a little early in order to get to the lab on time. I sat in a waiting room for thirty minutes. I noticed the decor was a little more modern than the hospital setting. It was in a large building on the MIT campus, and I vaguely recalled MIT being associated with the first study.