For Science
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In The Name Of Science free porn video
His penis squeezed past my labia offering a spine-tingling snippet of the fucking to come. Wriggling, I spread my thighs so when he thrust again, he drove deep. I panted, gasping for breath as he pounded me, his rhythm as fast as my racing heart.
“Wonderful,” said a voice in my earphones, interrupting Barry White’s gravely crooning. “Looks great.”
I quivered, each word translated into electric pulses which surged toward my pussy, the negative terminal, and merged with the delicious burn of fat cock stretching muscular walls.
“Oh yes, splendid.”
I sighed… moaned. With three cameras and ten sets of human eyes watching my every move, I’d never been so aroused.
*
The advertisement was posted on my favourite fetish site.
Scientist seeks individuals or couples to help in research exploring the mechanics of human copulation. Must be willing to perform sexual acts in front of a live audience and be filmed. Do not apply if claustrophobic.
I couldn’t believe my luck. Being watched having sex was my thing – incredible instant arousal. But a recent urge to masturbate in a park in broad daylight had shaken my nerve. I’d been nearing climax when blue lights and sirens had interrupted my pleasure and forced me to run like Usain Bolt in a sprint final. Not good.
This was different…
The contact email was for a Doctor Oscar Andersen. I messaged him immediately.
*
“Switch.”
The pounding halted and my partner twisted onto his side. Remembering our routine, I settled on my right side, arm folded beneath me. I turned my head, knocking my headphones. Deafening pulses jarred me while I struggled to restore them.
“Okay?”
I nodded and we were off again. Grasped from behind, hot flesh nosed my slit and slipped inside. My pussy squelched.
*
My first meeting with Doctor Oscar Anderson was in his London office. He greeted me with a dazzling smile and fuck, he was gorgeous. A six-foot, broad-shouldered stud, he took my breath away.
“Miss Wilkins…”
He spoke with an accent I couldn’t identify but his name and a striking resemblance to Mads Mikkelsen made me think him Danish. He had to be fifty, perhaps older, but his chiselled good looks made me blush like a love-struck teenager. I watched his lips move as he introduced the four white-coated minions behind him, and I zoned out completely while he explained all the technical stuff. I already knew the project was a continuation of research carried out in the nineties and that sessions would be filmed and analysed, the results published in a swanky scientific magazine. My genitals would be on show to the world. Fancy that.
“…so time is precious. I can’t leave you inside an MRI indefinitely. You must be confident, easily aroused and happy to ‘perform’ when watched. Does that sound like you?”
Yes, yes and yes. I nodded eagerly.
“Can you demonstrate? Edmund…” One of the minions stepped forward. A slight man with dark, receding hair and a large hooked nose, he smiled awkwardly. “This is Edmund, your partner for the experiment.”
Partner? Well, I guess needed one. I eyed him, tried to smile.
“The application and consent forms are all in order, your height and weight are within acceptable parameters, so the only thing left is to see how you perform. Can you do that?”
“What? Now?” I asked, gaping.
“Please. And think of it as real time. Speed is important.”
The remaining minions raised clipboards while my potential partner stood there smirking. Skinny yet muscular, Edmund was younger than Doctor Andersen but lacked all semblance of handsomeness. They were complete opposites. The question was, did I care?
No. Knickers already damp, I tore at my clothing, discarding it willy-nilly. Edmund followed suit and, stripped naked, we basked in the glory of four wide-eyed stares. My gaze dropped to Edmund’s crotch. Holy hell!
“Only a semi.” He shrugged. “Blue pill’s not kicked in.”
“That’s—” I swallowed hard. “Easy to fix,” I said, dropping to my knees.
*
A sixty-centimetre diameter non-flexible tube should considerably restrict manoeuvrability but Edmund was some sort of contortionist. Gymnastic classes as a kid, apparently. Having repositioned with ease, he fucked me from behind with vigorous strokes that hit my g-spot exactly right. Edmund – God love him – was a diamond in the rough; a human Energiser Bunny with a disproportionately huge cock and enviably fearless exhibitionism.
“Lovely, marvellous,” enthused Doctor Andersen. “Switch again if you can.”
If we can? Of course, we could. We’d practised our routine in an accurately proportioned cardboard MRI mock-up, with minions present for timing purposes. We practised a lot. The minions never complained.
Prompted by Edmund, I slithered into position three: cowgirl. Squished flat, I fed his cock into my pussy and while Prince warbled to the funky beat of Sexy MF, our finale began.
Now, I don’t know if it was the thrill of a larger crowd, the presence of cameras, or finally having sex in a real MRI – not your average everyday occurrence – but I came super hard. My pussy contracted in sucking waves while I fought to control my trembling body. This experiment may have been in the name of science but I did it for this – this moment of ecstasy.
Edmund tensed, face scrunched. Oddly cute. He ejaculated deep inside me, gripped my arse then collapsed, panting. He smiled up at me, all sweat and creases.
“That’s it, all done,” said Doctor Andersen, his voice suddenly booming when the MRI’s whirrs and clicks ceased. “We’ll soon have you out.”
I relaxed on Edmund’s chest and listened to his thumping heartbeats while the MRI tray slid slowly outward. We helped each other stand and, grinning, Edmund and I took a bow.
“Bravo, bravo.” Doctor Andersen swept into the room, white coat billowing. “Quite a performance, excellent, but…” He stroked his chin, grimaced. “I’d like more. Erm… I don’t suppose you'd do it again?”
Juices dripped down my thighs. “How about now?”
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