Dr. Chloe Burrell, Sex Researcher

Then, as though putting the final period on her story of lust and hope, her subconscious pushed the title of the tale into her fingertips for typing: "His Woman Delights Him":

Trent was such a find, thought Simone, a warm feeling flooding through her body as she happily straightened her apartment on Sunday afternoon. They had spent all day Saturday—and just as important, Saturday night—together, and his charm and intelligence were such a delight. Equally delightful was the physical Trent: Simone loved roaming her hands over his strong chest, muscular arms, and across his firm stomach. Maybe not a ripped six-pack, but it was darned close.

And his glorious, fantastic firm ass! She had seen it the first time only two weeks ago in the aftermath of their fourth date. It was a date she would never, ever forget because of what followed.

They had gone to a local theater production put on by a troupe of long standing in their city. Known for socially relevant satire with a bite, the play was hilarious. Maybe the good vibes carried over. Maybe it was just time. Maybe the stars and planets were aligned just so.

Whatever it was, Trent's lovemaking was tender but passionate. He aroused her intensely with his body, his words, his lips on her throat, her breasts, her pussy. For the first time ever, Simone had an orgasm during an initial session of lovemaking with a man. That told her volumes about her connection with Trent.

Pausing as she picked up a magazine from the end table, Simone remembered the velvety smooth feel of the head of his cock inside her mouth. He was delicious! The first time she saw his erection, she had to taste it. She slid him as deep inside her mouth as she could take him, wanting to swallow him whole if that were possible. She could have handled him for hours that night, stroking him, fluttering her tongue along the length of him, coaxing the pre-cum of his lustful desire from the end of his beautiful, naked cock.

But she was too anxious to feel the full measure of his hard dick buried as deep as she could pull it into her pussy. He was eager, too.

Oh, my, god, thought Simone, easing onto the sofa to daydream, cleaning chores temporarily forgotten. Gripping his firm, muscular asscheeks as he pumped into her. That was heaven! He had such a fantastic ass! It felt so wonderful, so masculine, so powerful, so very, very erotic.

Simone's hand dropped subconsciously to her crotch. The memory of Trent's gorgeous ass underneath her fingertips was moistening her pussy.

Then, memory advanced to fantasy. Simone shucked off the gym shorts and panties she was wearing. Lying against the back of the sofa and settling into position to masturbate, she launched from the reality of two weeks ago into the fantasy of sliding a lubricated finger inside Trent's tight, hot asshole as he pumped her.

It was a favorite way to make love for Simone. Though an inventive lover had introduced her to the sexy, intimate act over a year ago, he was not a man who viewed Simone—or any woman, for that matter—as a long-term investment. Sadly, not since her powerfully erotic introduction to exploring the snug, naughty confines of that man's asshole had she experienced this favorite kind of sex play.

How would Trent react? Had he experienced this? Would he like it? Could she introduce him to it in a way that would arouse him, make him even hotter to take her, to ravage her in ways that would have her thrashing in ecstasy? More important, could she introduce this to him in a manner that would put all his fears and doubts immediately to rest so she could give him the extreme sexual pleasure she had seen on the face of the guy who had introduced her to finger-fucking a man in the ass?

Teasing one fingertip across the exposed pleasure nub of her clitoris, Simone imagined what it would feel like, what she would say, how he would react.

"Baby, hand me that bottle of lube on the nightstand."

Not a surprising request, and Trent would do so, reaching with one arm as he laid on top of her to retrieve the bottle.

"Need a little slipperiness on your clit?" he would ask, handing her the bottle and then dropping back down, his strong chest pushing against her breasts.

"No. You make me so wet. You know that!" she would giggle.

He would raise himself up on his elbows to gaze questioningly into her face.

"This is for you," she would whisper sexily, popping the top on the bottle and tilting it at the base of his back, poised at the end of the furrow between his muscular glutes. "This is for the sexiest man I know, the man who I want to massage into ecstasy right now as his beautiful hard cock feels so wonderful buried in my pussy."

A look of recognition would cross his face. She would thumb the cap shut and drop the bottle to the bed, moving her hand to the puddle of gooey liquid poised at the apex of his ass crack.

Simone's fantasy moved from thinking about what she WOULD do into a movie in her mind about what she WAS doing.

"Simone, you're not saying that--"

"Yes, baby," she answered, shushing him by placing one finger of her other hand against his lips. "I'm saying that I want to give a sensation so indescribably wonderful that you can't believe a woman would pamper and love you like this. I'm saying that I want to touch you here," and she slid her hand downward, pushing the lube in advance of her fingers between the valley of his firm cheeks and toward the crinkled orifice that was his asshole, "in order to massage you and give you every bit of pleasure I can possibly can."

She began stroking a fingertip gently over his asshole, the slippery liquid soothing, cool, and awakening the nerve endings bundled and concentrated underneath the crinkles of his beautiful pink starfish.

He gasped.

"That's it, baby. Relax and let me touch you like this. I want to make you feel so good."

Trent eased back down on top of her, his weight borne mostly on his strong arms on either side of her as he rested his chest against hers. It placed one ear close to her mouth, and she continued tutoring her now-willing student through all reluctance, all worries or concern about what was happening.

"God, you are such a fantastic lover, baby. You make me feel so good."

Simone's finger was now circling Trent's anus, smoothing and massaging as she occasionally slid her fingertip across the center of his asshole. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. I know this is one way to do it."

She nibbled tenderly on his earlobe. He groaned, raising his ass slightly, signaling her that her ministrations on his asshole were arousing him.

"That's it, baby. Let yourself go to take my finger inside you. I want to feel you there. I want to take you to a place you've never been."

"Simone, what you're doing—it feels so good. I can't believe how sexy this is. Oh, baby, you are such a lover." He flexed open his asscheeks, sending the unmistakable signal that he wanted Simone to do this.

She centered her fingertip, resting it against his slippery opening. "Then show me, Trent," she whispered throatily, "show me how good it feels and how much more you want. Show me by opening up for me right here."

She tapped lightly on the center of his asshole.

A deep moan rumbled in his chest. Simone thrilled to the sensations it sent into her breasts.

"Right here, baby. Right here."

Tap. Tap.

Then, there it was. An indentation. The first sign of surrender. The first sign that her lover trusted her enough, was so turned on by what she was doing, that he would acquiesce to the lesson she would teach him about his own sexuality. Simone's toes curled in anticipation as she pressed, so very lightly, into his virgin hole.

"Oh, my sexy, sexy man. You are fantastic. I want to make you feel wonderful. Let me in. Let me in."

Her finger slipped in to the first knuckle. She held it there, cooing and whispering to reassure him.

"Oh, god, Trent, I'm inside you. Baby, I'm inside you, and it feels so-o-o-o-o sexy. You are so-o-o-o sexy. I love it when you open for me. Oh, let me give you a gentle massage, my love."

She withdrew slightly and was rewarded with the most erotic rush she had ever felt with this glorious man. It was the rush created by a moan that communicated in no uncertain terms a message that drove her wild with desire: Don't go. Don't take it out!

She pushed back in slowly. Deeper this time.

Again that masculine growl reverberated through Trent's chest, sending vibrations against Simone's breasts.

"I won't go, baby. I promise I won't go. I won't pull it out until I make you feel better than you have ever felt during sex." She pushed deeper.

Trent raised up on stiffened arms, his asshole clenching around her finger. "Damn! Oh, damn!" he exclaimed. Panting in surprise, lust, anticipation of even more, he opened his clenched-tight eyes to look down at her.

She looked directly into those deep brown eyes and inched her finger even deeper. "It feels so good, doesn't it, baby?" She pulled out a bit, then plunged back in.

He was tight and so hot. His virgin hole was accommodating her intimate massage. Simone's pussy clamped around his hard dick, a shudder of pure sexual desire coursing through her body.

He surrendered totally, dropping back down against her, his buttocks thrusting upward to get more of her finger inside, then pumping down to drive his hard cock deep into her sopping pussy. "Do me, Simone. Do me good," he whispered in her ear as he ground against the slickened folds of her vagina. "Put your finger inside me, baby. Put it in deep because you're gonna make me come, and I want to feel you all the way inside me when I do."

Simone slid her finger almost entirely out of his asshole, poising at the entrance to curl it into position, and then buried it as deep as she could inside him, nudging against his prostate as she slid her finger to the core of his sexual soul.

Trent bucked in surprise and lust, thrusting back against her cupped hand spread across his buttocks as her middle finger impaled itself deep inside his asshole. She pressed her hand hard against his ass as he thrust his stiff cock in and out of her pussy. She was climbing fast to her own peak.

"God, Simone! Fuck me with your finger. Put it inside deep, baby. I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!"

He groaned, and Simone could swear she felt the vibrations from that sexy man-sound wrap around the finger she had buried in his asshole. That pushed her over the edge, and her pussy started contracting rhythmically around Trent's stiff cock.

Then, the most erotic, lustful thing Simone had ever experienced began. Trent's asshole began spasming in concert with the contractions of his cock, which were pushing powerful jets of cum deep inside her. The gripping and releasing of his anus tight around her finger was the sexiest feeling imaginable for a woman making love to a man.

She arched her back and moaned in primal satisfaction and happiness as an intense orgasm coursed through her body.. This happened to both fantasy-Simone and real-life Simone.

Clearing her head as she lay on her sofa, legs splayed, a dishrag limpness working its way into her entire body as the aftermath of her powerful orgasm subsided, Simone smiled.

Maybe her fantasy would come true on her next date with Trent.

Chloe's fingers were working her clit insistently as she neared the end of the story. She was tugging on one nipple with the other hand. When she read the part about Simone pushing her finger all the way inside Trent's willing, opened asshole, Chloe came with a shudder, legs stiffening as she sat in her office chair, one hand quickly grabbing the arm rest to steady herself. Gritting her teeth to tamp down the orgasmic groan she wanted to emit, Chloe somehow suffered silently through an intense orgasm.

How did Georgia ever do this so the people around her didn't know what was happening?

***

Driving home from work that day, Chloe was quite satisfied with her initial foray as an author of erotica. The story would surely excite Georgia as she masturbated on the scanner platform, but it was also a first-step-only tale that was the perfect introduction to man-fucking for a guy who had never ventured to that kind of sexual play. If Rick turned out to be a man with whom she wanted a relationship (fingers crossed!), observing his reaction to her tale of Trent's gentle initiation into taking his lover's finger up his ass would provide important clues.

But Chloe wanted all the usual steps of getting to know each other to come first. That would, she hoped, lead to discovering that Ricardo Torres could be a man with whom she would want to spend a great deal of time. Maybe even marry . . .

Chloe knew she was getting ahead of herself.

But, if it did work out, amidst all that wonderful getting-to-know-each-other giddiness and anticipation, her story would be rolling around inside Rick's head. Would it make him curious to try out what he had spoken into the mic in the recording studio?

Fidgeting through dinner then a half-hearted attempt at writing the abstract to an article she was working on, Chloe gave up. First, writing in the required academic style after the writing she'd done this afternoon somehow just didn't work—she needed more time to come down from the high of putting into written words one of her own sexual fantasies. Second, she was too distracted wondering about the possible what-ifs for what was happening across town at the college Rick attended.

Hmm . . . 8:30 PM now. Let's see, the class is from seven to ten, so what if they were dismissed early? Would Rick be home by now, maybe at his computer and replying to the note Dr. Shropshire would have given him? She closed out the article file and checked email.

No.

Of course not. It was too early.

She tried television.

Why did I think THAT would work, Chloe thought, dropping the remote in disgust at the vast amount of inane drivel that was beamed to her satellite dish. In spite of 250 channels, nothing of intelligence could be found.

Man-fucking videos weren't a possibility. She was too amped up to settle into a fantasy, and besides, her orgasm this afternoon in her office (God! Had she really done that?) was pretty intense. Chloe wasn't ready for another just yet. (At least, not one at her own hands.)

9:15 PM. No message. Too soon. Too soon.

10 PM. No message. He had to drive home, for heaven's sake!

10:30 PM. No message. Where did he live? Maybe he went to the library after class.

Aaargh! The library! He could be there half the night.

11:10 PM. The quiet beep sounded from her computer speakers indicating an incoming message:

Hello Dr. Burrell,

Yes, I do remember your talk last year to our class. Thank you again for coming to speak. I truly appreciate the time you spent with me to go over that one aspect of limbic system function.

Your research study sounds very interesting. I would be delighted to be a reader for the material you need recorded by an accented male voice. This is perhaps the only time my accent has gotten me a job!

I have your office phone number from Dr. Shropshire. Please email me to let me know when a convenient day and time might be to call you.

Sincerely, Rick Torres

This was perfect.

Absolutely perfect!

***

"Rick, thanks so much for agreeing to be a reader for this recording," Chloe said, opening the door to her lab and ushering him through. He was in a button-down shirt and khakis, having left his coat in the car given the unseasonably mild late winter/early spring day. Chloe could not help but steal a glance at his butt as he walked ahead of her into the room with the massive scanner.

"I want to show you everything connected to this research study—where we do our fMRI scans, the computer set-up, everything—so you get a feel for the research. It's very important work, this mapping of brain activity." She led Rick to the scanner's control panel. "Have you ever had a functional magnetic resonance imaging scan of your own brain? It might be fun to take a look at neural activity within your amygdalae. There is a strong marker for limbic system activity there."

The effect of language on the workings of the brain was one of Chloe's areas of expertise. How could it not be, given her line of research into the neuroscience of human sexuality? She felt only a twinge of guilt at carefully planning ahead of time exactly what she would say as she led Rick on this part of the tour:

"I want to SHOW YOU EVERYTHING . . . SO YOU GET A FEEL . . ."

Yes, it was devious. Yes, it was designed to appeal to the man's subconscious desire to have the woman.

But it was only the 21st-century version of what women had done for millennia to interest and arouse the men they desired.

And everything about Rick—from the moment of his phone call to her until this tour of her lab later in the week—made Chloe desire him. He was excited at finishing his doctorate and starting an internship, and the subject of his new profession was something about which Chloe knew a lot. It made it easy for them to start conversations. Those conversations, though, had led quickly and easily to other areas: He, too, was divorced. No kids. Looking for a more satisfying life. Though his schooling the past year and a half had cut drastically into his free time, he was (like Chloe) someone who prioritized staying fit.

That attracted her a lot, and Chloe also learned that he liked to salsa dance (though he hadn't done much of that since before his relatively brief marriage). They would make an attractive couple on the dance floor—AFTER he taught her how to dance.

That would be so much fun! In only the two phone conversations they had had since her message was delivered by Dr. Shropshire, it was clear to both of them that what had started with her offer for him to read a short passage to be audio-recorded for her research had led to both of them enjoying the other's company. This is exactly what Chloe had hoped!

In only two phone conversations they were far past, "Dr. Burrell" and, "Mr. Torres." Now, though, she was starting to get very nervous. Very worried. She truly liked the man. He was handsome. He understood, at least to some degree, her work. He had a sexy voice, and he worked at keeping himself in shape. (A realization that led Chloe again to thoughts of exploring his muscled asscheeks and running her hands over his nude butt.)

But now she was going to show him the story she wanted him to record.

"So, Rick, what do you think?"

"About the lab?"

"I guess. I assume you also might have been curious enough to try to find one of my articles or some other clue about my research."

They were seated in her office, having moved back there after the thoroughly delightful stroll through the research lab and the connected computer room where Chloe called up onto a monitor the prior day's scans. They had an engaging conversation about the neurophysiological markers of brain activity as shown on the scans before going down to the audio recording studio.

He smelled good. As he leaned closer to look at one of the readouts in the computer room, she had caught the subtle whiff of . . . what? Probably deodorant. Or did he actually put on a touch of cologne for their meeting? She decided cologne, definitely, though very subtle, very classy. She smelled it again as he stood next to her, looking through the glass partition into the Psych Building's small recording studio.

Rick answered in that sexy baritone. "Well, yes, I admit that I did search your name on google scholar. I read your article from January's Journal of Neuroscience."

Thank god! Chloe thought. That article talked about her work mapping the "bliss-out" areas of the female brain during orgasm.

And still Rick had come to her lab. He had not been scared away.