As if I had to tell you, I signed on with the Sexual Experience Exchange as a volunteer without a moment's hesitation. After my eye opening interview with Jason Evans, I was thoroughly convinced that the end result of the research – to be called The S.E.X. Report – would be the most liberating force for the American people since the American Revolution itself. Outfitted in the beginning with just the questionnaires for the male respondents, I set out to gather the information that was mandatory to compile if The S.E.X. Report was to be the force for good that all of us at The Exchange were certain it could be. Where normally the prospect of asking people such personal questions would have terrified me, my feeling was just the opposite when possessed with the knowledge of how much good I'd be doing assisting S.E.X. with its vital research.
Yes, I was ready to get to work, armed with real purpose for the first time since I could remember. Actually excited about life again.
Using a scientific method that was so simple it was profound, S.E.X. encouraged its volunteers to select their respondents through such ingenious techniques as picking them out of the phone book, or bumping into them in the supermarket and starting a conversation. The whole design was really quite brilliant.
The supermarket technique intrigued me the most, so I went to the Big Bargain outlet at the nearest shopping center and stationed myself in front of the lunch meat counter to wait for a likely candidate. After about ten minutes of pretending to make up my mind between pimento loaf and cooked salami, I spied a guy out of the corner of my eye who looked just perfect.
Timing his progress, I whirled around just in time to bump into him just as I had been instructed to do by the experts at S.E.X.
"Oh, excuse me," he said, obviously taken by surprise.
"That's all right," I purred back, rubbing my body against his to get his interest.
My body was like glue as it provocatively insinuated itself against his muscular form. Within seconds, he wasn't any more anxious to pull away than I was.
I suppose the fact I'd taken the precaution not to wear any underwear accounted for that.
"I'm Debbie," I cooed. "I'd like to ask you a few questions. Could we go someplace private?"
"How about in the back of the store?" he said quickly.
"You mean in the alley?"
"No… over there," he pointed toward a door marked "Employees Only."
"But what about the people who work in the store?"
"That's okay," he grinned. "I'm the manager."
"The manager?" I blurted with surprise.
"Yes," he grinned again. "I was keeping an eye on you because I thought you were a shoplifter. I hope you'll forgive my suspicion, but we've got a very low profit margin in the supermarket business. We can't afford to give anything away."
He was such a hunk, he was easy to forgive.
"All right, I'll overlook it if you'll answer my questions," I replied, taking his hand and leading him toward the "Employees Only" door.
Once inside, surprise was generated inside me all over again. I don't know what I'd expected… but it certainly wasn't a frozen food vault.
"We won't be disturbed here," he attempted to assuage my concern, and then dropped a latch from the inside on the freezer door. "I'm the only one with a key."
"Well, I guess it's okay," I went along with him, and extracted the questionnaire from my purse.
"Say," he said, raising my eyebrows, "you really are going to ask me some questions, aren't you?"
"What did you think I was going to do?" I answered coyly.
"Proposition me," he bluntly rejoined.
Before I'd volunteered for S.E.X. I would have been burning with embarrassment. However, the experts at The Exchange had prepared me for the eventuality of this kind of misunderstanding, so I just shrugged it off with a laugh.
"Come on," I said professionally, "let's get down to the question."
"Wow," he shook his head as he sat down on a crate of veal cutlets, "I still can't get over the fact you're really legit."
"Try me."
"Okay, what's your first question?"
"How long is your penis?" I fired away without blinking.
He turned white.
Then shocking pink.
Then bright red.
"W… what d… did you say?" he finally managed to gleep.
"How long is your penis?"
"H… hard or… or soft?"
"Hard, of course," I answered efficiently.
"E… eight inches," he stuttered.
"My," I smiled as I looked toward his suddenly bulging fly, "it certainly seems bigger than that."
It took him a moment to catch on to my point of reference. When he finally did figure out where I was looking, his ability to speak coherently vanished and his mouth released a gurgling series of nonsensical stammers.
"Don't be embarrassed," I attempted to reassure him. "I've been trained to be at home with the realities of the male anatomy. Believe me, it doesn't fluster me in the slightest to know that I've inadvertently made your penis hard. I realize that you're a man in the prime of life, and that I'm an attractive woman. A certain amount of arousal is only natural."
"I wish my wife was so understanding," he suddenly blurted.
"You're having trouble with your wife?" I departed from the questionnaire and asked understandingly.
"Yes… yes," he bleated, the words starting to run away with him now that he had regained his ability to articulate. "She can't understand why I want to have sex so often. I practically have to beg her to… to make love."
"A good-looking guy like you?"
"Thanks," he said, hanging his head shyly, "but you didn't have to say that."
"But it's true," I assured him. "If I were married to you, I don't think I could get enough, judging from the size of the bulge in your pants… Are you sure you're only eight inches?"
"Well, actually, I've never really measured it with a ruler or anything."
"Suppose you take it out of your trousers and let me be the judge," I suggested. "After all, I have the obligation to have the information I compile accurate."
"Are you kidding?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" I asked as I closed the distance between us. "Here, if you're shy, I'll help you."
My hands dropped to his fly and pulled down his zipper before he could move. Pushing my fingers into the open slit, I fumbled past the barrier of his shorts and found the lump of pulsing flesh I was looking for. Before he knew it, I had his cock out in the open and was lightly caressing its elongated shaft.
"It certainly looks like more than eight inches to me," I commented as I drew the foreskin back and forth over the turgidly purple knob on the end. Then, feeling him tremble nervously in my grip, I added, "Don't be concerned. Anything we do is only in the interest of science."
"Even having sex?" he uncontrollably gushed.
"If you think it will help you respond to my questions more easily, I'll certainly consider it," I improvised, terribly anxious to do good work. "If it will make you more comfortable, I'll be happy to remove my clothing."
"Please… please do," he panted. "I'll bet you have a fantastic body."
"You judge for yourself, Mr. Supermarket Manager," I winked, and let go of his hard-on so I could begin stripping.
It was cold in the freezer, but by the time I was naked I wasn't feeling it. Something about my nudity made me tingle with warmth.
Especially when I saw the way the manager's eyes bugged out of his head when he saw what Nature had endowed me with.
"You're beautiful," he finally managed to gasp.
"You're not so bad yourself," I replied, gripping his throbbing dick again for emphasis. "I'd say you're at least ten inches. I think you've been underestimating yourself."
"Do… do you really think so?" he asked anxiously.
"Definitely. You've got a very large prick," I buttered him up. "There must be something the matter with your wife. Any normal woman would jump at the change to try it."
"Are… are you a normal woman?"
"You better believe it."
"I know you're just here on business, but would you… would you let me fuck you?"
"Just show me where I can lie down and spread my legs," I told him, "and my pussy is yours with only one hitch."
"Anything."
"You don't leave before you answer my questions."
"The second after I'm through coming," he promised.
"Okay, then, show me where to get down and spread my legs."
He looked anxiously around the enclosure. "There," he finally decided on a spot. "We just got a shipment of haddock in. I don't think it's had a chance to freeze yet, but it's cold enough not to stink. It should still be soft enough not to hurt when we really start moving…"
"All right, I'm game," I said.
I walked over and sat down on the covered crate, testing its resiliency with my bare ass.
"Mmmmmm," I grinned, "bouncy… let's get busy."
I threw my torso back and pulled my thighs apart without the slightest trace of self-consciousness.
When I noticed him licking his lips, I couldn't help but ask, "Do you like my pussy?"
"God, I love it," he enthused. "I'd like to dive between your legs and drawn in it."
"Just your dick will do," I laughed.
I beckoned to him with both my outstretched arms and my flexing cunt. By the time he was standing between my legs, brandishing his hard-on like a spear, my twat was soaking wet.
"Come on and fuck me," I urgently said, "before my pussy juice freezes over solid."
The randy reek of my cunt rolled out from between my thighs. When I laid my head down against the mound of fresh haddock beneath me, I couldn't separate the aroma of pussy from the smell of fish. Needless to say, the similarity only added fuel to the growing fire within me.
The supermarket manager dropped to his knees, and guided his cock toward my slobbering love-pit. Before I could reiterate my carnal demands, the head of his hard-on was bustling through the portals of my pussy lips and surging up my fuck-hole.
"Mmmmmm, that's it," I moaned with heartfelt appreciation. "Give me everything you've got!"
Then, as he was drilling his prick inside me, the idea occurred to me to actually count how many inches he really had protruding from his loins. That way, at least there'd be no doubt that one aspect of the questionnaire was filled out with 100% accuracy from first-hand experience.
I picked up his penetration at what I estimated to be three inches, and started toting the increments of descent from there.
"Three…" I began. "Four… five… six… seven… eight…"
Eight inches. The amount he'd believed was the full extent of his prick.
I looked down with overwhelming curiosity toward the intersection of my loins.
Silly boy, I thought, you've got at least two inches to go.
I'd been right. He had ten inches between the legs if he had a centimeter.
"Keep going!" I feverishly instructed. "I want to feel every bit of your big, thick cock inside my pussy. Let me feel your hot hairy balls squashing against my cunt lips…"
"Ooommmmppphh!" he grunted.
Another blessed inch of phallic meat engorged my spasming twat.
One more to go.
I'd die if I didn't get it!
"Ooommmmppphhh!" he grunted again.
The last inch was in. His entire cock was pumping within the squeezing confines of my hump-tunnel.
"Ooooh, ten inches!" I babbled his dimensions deliriously. "Ten gorgeous, fucking inches!"
"You're kidding…" he gasped with astonishment as he pumped away.
"I wouldn't kid about a thing like that," I assured him. "Looks like you've been selling yourself short for years, big boy."
"You don't know how good that makes me feel," he said gratefully.
And I felt just as good. His ecstasy at learning the true dimensions of his most valuable bodily organ was just further proof of how much good The S.E.X. Report could do. My role in helping a man become justifiably proud of his cock was one of the most immensely satisfying things in my life. I was so glad I'd volunteered for this vital research.
"Now that you know how big it is," I gnawed ferociously against his ear, "why don't you stop holding back and come in me with it? My cunt craves your hot, sticky jizz."
"Oh, baby, are you going to get it," he promised me. "I'm gonna drown your pussy."
"Don't tease me," I giggled.
"No way!" he declared, and then he let down the floodgates.
The sperm came surging from his prick like a dam had just broken between my legs. Cum poured over my vaginal tissues, lapping me with its unbelievable volume.
There was so much of it that all of a sudden my womb was awash with hot stickiness. My ovaries were glubbing as the tide rose.
Then, it seemed to penetrate even further from there, until it seemed to be filling the hollows of my breasts. If I'd tried to nurse an infant during the subsequent week, I'm certain the child would have drawn semen rather than milk.
All the while I was coming myself like the Fourth of July was being held inside my body. This year, rather than fireworks, the organizers of the event were using my senses.
Bang! Pop! Pow! Blam!
My consciousness was given over to a display of pyrotechnics that would have put a twenty-one-gun salute of atom-bomb blasts to shame.
And you know what?
It only made me want more!
"Pull out of my cunt and fuck me in the ass!" I frantically implored, never thinking for a second that he might not have it in him.
"Boy, will I!" he eagerly confirmed my faith in the tirelessness of his prick.
"Your wife won't let you?" I guessed at the source of his enthusiasm.
"Check," he punted as he yanked his pecker out of my primary fuck-pit, and dropped it down a notch to my optional one.
"I know how it is," I empathized.
"You mean your husband…"
"Just shut up and fuck me in the ass," I cut him off.
There was no way I could tell him the truth. That just a couple of weeks previously I had been a shrinking violet in the bedroom. As unresponsive as his wife in my own way. Not only wouldn't he believe it, but I was ashamed to admit it.
"Stick it in and cornhole me to the hilt!"
He did. Zowie, did he!
With one single, wonderfully brutal thrust he rocketed his hard-on all the way up my ass. All of a sudden his cock-head was battering the shit in my bowels into pieces.
Even though he had just ejaculated in my cunt, it was obviously only a matter of seconds before he repeated the feat in my ass. Nothing could have pleased me more.
"Do it!" I shrieked. "Fill my asshole with your cum. Shoot so much of it inside me that there's too much and it sprays all over my buns."
All of a sudden an interior splash reverberated to my soul. He was, coming… coming like a firehose.
Whatever shit was in my lower intestine was swamped by a torrent of cum that seemed to back up all the way to my stomach. Then, when my insides could accommodate no more, the spunk surged toward my anus. Before I knew it I had my previously stated wish, as his jism spurted with divine pressure from the perimeter of my cock-engorged bunghole.
My crack became coated with hot spunk, and then it started dribbling down toward my cunt. Even though my pussy was like a blotter, it still couldn't sop up all the overflow, and excess cream began saturating my thighs. By the time he was finishing spurting, my lower body was totally smeared with his scalding cum.
Theoretically we were fucking in a cold-storage locker. But in actuality the temperature was about a zillion degrees. We were both sweating like pigs, humping and bumping as he buggered me on the stack of haddock. The yore would be lucky if the heat from our bodies didn't spoil the fish despite the refrigeration.
Needless to say, when we were finally finished, he was so mellow that it wasn't the most difficult task in the world to get the answers to the remainder of the S.E.X. interview. By the time I walked out of the store with the fully completed questionnaire, I was positive I'd stumbled onto the most sure-fire interviewing technique in the history of scientific research.