Exchange Students

She went over to her computer and turned it on, waiting patiently for it to boot up. Actually, she was waiting quite impatiently. Why were these things so slow? Her TV came on real quick. But, she did manage to fill the time by continuing to feel, explore, and stroke the erection. It was a pretty nice way to fill in the empty spaces and times of life, stroking your cock.

Once her computer systems were all up she immediately googled Wikipedia, typed in 'average penis size,' and hit enter. Up popped, so to speak, a picture of a guy's erection, along with a few others in various states. It really isn't that hard to find a hard one. And, most importantly, hers did look pretty darned good in comparison to the ones they had there. She scrolled down to 'erect length,' and carefully read, all the while feeling hers with her left hand as she scrolled with her right.

It was actually kind of confusing, and surprising. One study, published in Journal of Urology, said the average size was 5.08 inches. 'Goodness,' she thought, 'my penis, Michael's penis, is more than a whole inch bigger than that!' The next study said 5.35 inches. She was still pretty much ahead of that. The third and last one said 5.9 inches. She wasn't much bigger than that, but she was still bigger and, besides, that study was conducted on college students at spring break in Cancun. College students was the right comparison group, but she couldn't imagine that was a fair study. She giggled at the thought of measuring boys' erect penises on spring break. Albeit inaccurate, the study must have been a lot of fun.

In any case, she did win each time! It was kind of cool to realize that you had a big penis. Actually, it wasn't hers, but it was hers for awhile, at least. She would have to put his size in her report. She wondered if Michael had ever measured himself. Wouldn't he be so happy to find out how big it really is? She returned to the mirror to further admire her trophy cock, her prize stallion, her big, manly truncheon. This was indeed a cock to admire, to applaud, to adore.

It felt so good to play with his, her, balls, as she stroked and fondled his, her, cock. She realized that she could easily do this for hours. It was just a pure, base, fundamental, unadulterated pleasure. She was feeling no doubts, no concerns, no insecurities, no anxieties, just simply physical merry delight, joy, and exhilarating, invigorating, basic hedonic stimulation and satisfaction. It was like being high, but a natural, healthy one.

She softly fondled the testicles, tickling them with her fingers. He was in fact quite ticklish right behind them, causing her to bend over giggling. She could never tickle herself as a girl. Boys must have all the fun.

She quickly found though that it felt most good to caress, stroke, and rub the crown. She knew she would have to remember that when she had a real boy's erect penis in her hand. Well, this one was real, but she knew what she meant. And, boy, he was especially sensitive on the underside of the crown! She began to concentrate on that with her right hand as she softly stroked him with her left.

She also began to thrust her hips while she stood before the mirror, imagining that she was in fact fucking someone. Although, she would prefer to be the one being fucked, at least in her mind. She looked at herself, or more accurately, him in the mirror as she jerked him off, and she imagined that it was in fact him, pounding on his cock for her amusement, her pleasure. Beating off for her as she sat on the floor before him.

She again reached for his balls with her left hand and stroked herself harder and faster with her right. She grasped his shaft tightly with her fist, and plunged her fist up and down. She could hear the foreskin sliding on and off the bulb, his precum heavily lubricating the engorged, sensitive crown, her heavy breathing and gasping were filling the room, and then she felt this sudden intense surge in her loins and a heavy, forceful pressure course through her body and up through the shaft that twitched in her hand and suddenly released out the head a large white glob of his thick, hot sperm.

Her eyes opened wide in shock and delight as she watched his cock repeatedly twitch and spurt, squirting out globs and ropes of white sticky cum that splatted and smacked against the mirror, quickly covering the reflection with gobs, drips, and splots of thick, white, sticky gism.

Her legs felt weak, her knees buckled, and her head felt faint, but she maintained her stance as best she could to continue to douse the bedroom mirror with his full, heavy, young male load. It was such a terribly impressive sight. She felt so powerful, so manly, blasting forth such a heavy, mighty, potent load of male gunk, all the time accompanied by waves of blissful pleasure coursing throughout her body. So, this is what a boy's orgasm felt like and, man, it was pretty darned good!

When she was done she stood there a bit, catching her breath, admiring how thoroughly she had covered the mirror. She never squirted as a girl. She heard that some girls did, but she knew if she did it would never be anything like this. This was a pretty darned impressive way to orgasm. It was just such a blast to have the intense spasmodic waves of pleasure be accompanied by such a visual display of force and violent release, literally dousing the mirror with the stuff of his climax.

But, she then realized that his cum was running down the mirror, dripping down onto her fine bedroom carpeting. She ran to the bathroom, got a wash cloth, dashed back, and got as much of it as she could, realizing as well how much was also still leaking out of his penis. She squeezed it, milking out the last drops, and also realized that one wash cloth was really not enough, but at least she hadn't messed up the carpeting too badly.

Her face reddened at the thought of putting all of this in her report. The professor had clearly stipulated to put in everything. That was in the contract she had signed. When she had signed it she had not realized, expected, that anything like this would occur. He wouldn't really expect her to put in all of what she had just done, would he? There was no way she could do that. But, how could she explain how she had obtained the length of his erection? And, what the heck was going to go in the report if not for this? She was now feeling very self-conscious about what she had just done. Well, at least the penis size would definitely go on, for his sake.

It was perhaps, though, understandable, wasn't it? She again imagined, realized, what Michael must be doing with her body. If she immediately went to jerking herself off with his body, just imagine what he must be doing!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When the professor and Michael arrived at his apartment he offered to help carry in the bags.

Michael declined. It looked to him that he could carry them all in, even in one trip. None of it was particularly heavy, but the professor insisted. He reminded him that he was a girl now, and girls didn't lug around lots and lots of bags, certainly not in one trip, and certainly not when there was a man there. Michael wondered if that had been possibly true in the professor's day and age but not now. Still, it might seem odd to anybody watching for the man not to be helping the petite young lady who was carrying everything in by herself, in one trip.

Dr. Minsky wanted to help also because he wanted to call Marcia from Michael's apartment. He wanted to give her Michael's phone number. It really would help if they started speaking directly to one another, although he wouldn't push it. In addition, he thought it best to call Marcia in case Michael had some questions regarding the things they had purchased. He seriously doubted that they got the right size of brassiere. And, frankly, one important question would be whether Marcia was having her period and would Michael need to use a tampon. He hoped that the insertion of those things was self-explanatory. They must have directions on the box, or at least he could get that information off the web, if Michael had a computer with internet access. 'How stupid of me,' he thought. Michael was a college boy. He obviously had a computer with internet. Frankly, he had himself been rather slow to get hooked up. He still didn't even have a cell phone.

Michael felt a bit funny walking into his ground floor apartment, dressed as a girl, carrying tons of plastic bags filled with girly things, followed by this older man, hauling along an even larger load. But, he didn't mind if anyone noticed this girl entering his apartment. They might just think that she was his girlfriend, or perhaps his sister, visiting with their father. It would be kind of cool though to have them think that she was his girlfriend. She was pretty darned cute. Maybe, once the professor left, he could somehow manage to let some of his neighbors see him in her undies or something, make them really think that he had a girlfriend, and a rather hot one at that.

Once he got into his apartment he felt a wave of relief, being now surrounded by things he recognized, things that were his, things that identified and defined him as Michael, a young man. It was so good to see all of it, to be reassured that he was him. He so looked forward to getting back into his old self, his own body.

"Here," he said, "just toss the stuff down over there, on the couch, that'll be fine."

"Aren't you going to try anything on?" The Walmart bill was pretty darned high, despite being Walmart. This boy had purchased quite a lot of stuff. "If something doesn't fit, I can take it back right now and exchange it."

That was a good point. It was a lot to try on, but he could at least find out which panties didn't fit, and they probably did purchase the wrong size of brassiere. "Yea, well, okay." He began to pull up her sweater.

"Wait, hey son, wait a second," the professor protested, looking away. "Don't you want to do that in the bedroom?"

Michael looked at him, his sweater pulled up to reveal her white tummy. "What do I care? I'm not actually a girl. It's not actually my body. What do I care if you see it?"

The professor turned back to him. That was a good point. What did he care? Why should he care? Well, perhaps he should care, but what harm is there in just seeing it. It's not like Marcia was there anymore. It's not like she would care. Well, maybe she would care, but she wouldn't have to find out. Well, if he included this in his scientific report she would find out, but he couldn't see why he should or would include this particular moment. Not everything had to be in the article. There were, after all, space limitations in scientific articles. He can't report virtually everything that happened.

He didn't say anything, not feeling like he wanted to make the decision, and certainly not wanting to discourage Michael. After all, this was still part of the experiment, wasn't it? As the researcher, he really shouldn't interfere with how the subjects are participating in the study. Yes, not saying anything was the right thing to do. It was the most scientifically credible and objective thing to do. He watched with scientific interest, and prurient delight, as Michael brought Marcia's sweater up and over the round white cups of her brassiere, his dick instantly growing within his slacks, and he made a quick adjustment before the sweater cleared Michael's face.

As Michael pulled the sweater over his shoulders, off his arms, and laid it aside, he hesitated in going further, his eyes gazing down at her young round breasts, still covered by the brassiere. "Wow," he said quietly.

"Yea," the professor added, even more quietly.

They were both witnessing something that was really quite wonderful, and that neither had seen in quite some time. Actually, Michael had seen such a thing only once before, when he got Penny Anderson to take off her blouse. If he had a cock, it would swell pretty fast and hard now.

The professor certainly had a cock, and his was indeed at attention. He slipped his left hand into his slacks and over to his cock, both to pull it tight against his abdomen, as well as to hold onto it. He tried to look casual with his hand in his pocket, but he felt far from it. He said lamely, "She has a nice brassiere, doesn't she, son."

"She sure does," Michael replied, and promptly reached back to undo the clasp, thrusting her chest, her breasts, way out, as if he was actually trying to show them off to the professor, trying to get them to look as perky and big as possible, trying to encourage him to reach over and clasp them in his hands.

At least it looked that way to the professor.

And, doing such a thing was certainly on the professor's mind, but he held his ground, as well as his stiff dick. Grabbing Marcia's boobs was probably going too far. Even Michael might not like that.

Michael was struggling with the clasp. He had struggled with Penny's brassiere as well. Penny had been a friend of his cousin, Sally, and he had met her at a dance 'for the young folk' at the family reunion on Goose Lake. She said that she normally didn't do things like that, but it was such a special time: summer vacation, at the lake. She would let him at least play with them. But, he struggled so long with the clasp, and she hadn't helped with all of her giggling and teasing. And, just when he felt he had gotten it undone she heard someone coming down the path and pushed him away to get her blouse buttoned up.

And, this seemed even harder than with Penny, as he had to reach around behind his back. He knew he must look awfully stupid. He sure felt that way.

"Here," the professor said, "let me help you." He strode over to the clumsy boy, got behind him and deftly unclasped the brassiere. Perhaps it was indeed good that he stayed while the boy tried on some clothes. He obviously needed some help. His dick also swelled as he gazed upon the brassiere strap. This was a boy, but he was looking at a girl's brassiere on a very pretty girl's body. He didn't think any of his colleagues would approve of this, particularly if they didn't realize that a girl was not actually present in the room. But, he did like to imagine, in his own mind, that he was unclasping the brassiere of a very pretty, young coed and, when it came to her body, he was certainly doing that. He had never imagined an opportunity like this ever happening. Not only would he likely get a Noble Prize, but a nice peek at a fresh, young feminine body as well. Sometimes science was a pretty darned good profession.

As soon as the clasp was undone Michael pulled the cups from his breasts, Marcia's breasts, and let the brassiere fall to his feet. His eyes widened with wonder and lust at the sight before him. Marcia apparently had really, really great tits. They weren't super large or anything, but apparently 34B was still pretty darned good. And, they were so round, so perky, so white. He reached up and grasped them in his hands, grasping for the first time two lusciously soft melon breasts. He never felt anything so wonderful in his life. They were so feminine, so squishy, so sexy. He even clasped the nipples between a finger and thumb and gasped at how good that felt, to his fingers, as Michael pinching them, and to her, as Marcia feeling them being pinched. Yes, indeed, being in a girl's body was rather interesting.

The professor had moved around in front of him. He had to get a good look at this, at Marcia's young naked tits, and he was not disappointed. This girl was indeed very cute, and looking all the better with her blouse and brassiere removed. Plus, she (well, he, but it really looked like she), was playing with them, playing with her young, firm, soft boobies right in front of him. He wondered if perhaps it might be useful to get some pictures, for the article, of course, for the scientific record.

Michael, with some reluctance, let go of Marcia's soft round boobs and then quickly unclasped her skirt, letting it fall to his feet in a crumpled pile at his ankles, and for a moment gazed upon her panties. Marcia apparently liked very feminine panties. They were pink, and covered with all sorts of different colored little flowers, some rose, some yellow, some aquamarine, some violet, some pastel blue. The waistband and trim were all lacy, and in the middle, right above the cunnie mound, was a tiny pink bow.

The professor's dick strained in his pants.

The panties were so sexy to Michael that it was almost a shame to remove them, but he was more interested in what they were hiding. He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of Marcia's panties, and pulled them down to his ankles.

He didn't even step out of them, he wanted so badly to see what their removal revealed, and he was not disappointed. "Man!" he exclaimed, as his eyes feasted on Marcia's sweet, little, feminine cunnie. His angle was not the best in the world, and he had to bend over to get a good look, but what he could see did look awfully, awfully fantastic.

Marcia did not have much of a growth. It was more of a wispy patch of thin peach fuzz than a thick bush, which Michael sorely appreciated as he could see very clearly that which interested him most: her cunt slit. On the one hand, it wasn't much to look at. It was just a soft, white mound split down the middle by a single, delicate slit, but it was the most beautiful, the most wonderful slit he had ever seen in his life. 'Man,' Michael now said to himself, 'this girl has one sexy cunt!'

It looked awfully good to the professor as well. With Michael's eyes clearly occupied, he felt and squeezed the cock in his slacks, softly rubbing it as he gazed upon the girl bent over, her colorful panties at her ankles, staring at her cunnie like it was the first time she ever saw it, never really appreciating how pretty and sexy it was. "Marcia" even reached down with her little feminine fingers and felt it, gingerly and tenderly exploring it, even clasping the lips in her fingers to pull it open, opening up the slit to show him her moist inner lips. It was like he was witnessing a young lady discovering her sexuality, standing right there before him, allowing him to watch her explore her young body for the very first time.

If she kept this up, and he kept it up, he would cum in his pants. Perhaps Michael would understand. Wouldn't he do the same thing if he was in his body? Maybe the boy would like some help with how to insert a tampon. It wasn't quite what he would like to insert in that pussy, now so deliciously spread open, but it might be best to proceed carefully with respect to that feminine product. It was a delicate matter, a delicate situation.

Michael, so absorbed in the sight, the feel, of Marcia's wonderfully naked body, that he had momentarily lost track of the fact that the professor was standing right there. He wasn't embarrassed, certainly not embarrassed in the manner that Marcia would have been. But, he had other things now on his mind, things that he would rather do in the privacy of his bedroom, things that he would rather not do with the professor watching, things that perhaps the professor would not approve.

He let go of Marcia's pussy lips and stood back up straight, noticing in his lower peripheral vision how her breasts jiggled and wiggled with his movement, and then settled back into their firm, perky position once he stood still, standing out from him so proudly. "Yea, well, professor, I think I'm good now. I think I can handle the rest of it."

The professor didn't really want to go. Who would want to leave a pretty naked coed, standing there so deliciously nude, every inch of her body so lovingly exposed, her hips so narrow, her skin so white, her breasts so round, her nipples so stiff, her slit so moist with arousal and lust. But, he had to keep in mind that his ultimate goal was to get through this problem without getting discovered, without getting into trouble. It took all his professorial ethical strength to deny himself this temptation, but he knew he would feel better about it tomorrow, or at least maybe he would. "Yea, well, let me at least leave you Marcia's phone number."