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  1. A Boy and His dungeon
  2. A Boy and His dungeon II
  3. A Boy and His dungeon III
  4. A Boy and His dungeon IV
  5. A Boy and His dungeon V
  6. A Boy and His dungeon VI
  7. A Boy and His dungeon VII
  8. A Boy and His dungeon VIII
  9. A Boy and His dungeon IX
  10. A Boy and His dungeon X
  11. A Boy and His dungeon XI
  12. A Boy and His dungeon XII
  13. A Boy and His dungeon XIII
  14. A Boy and His dungeon XIV
  15. A Boy and His dungeon XV
  16. A Boy and His dungeon XVI

A Boy and His dungeon III

Categories Fiction

Author: Porntexter

Published: 15 May 2019

  • Font:

'For everything, there is a First time'

Jennifer called early the next day to let me know she wouldn't be coming over. She and her Mother were going to London to get her signed up for university, get her dormitory assignment, and buy her text books. I told her not to worry, as I had plenty of work to do. We made kissing noises to each other and rang off.

I had the scan file into a 3D video of her brain activity. In that view, I could make out the ghostly outline of her brain and within that were bright flashes indicating brain activity. There was an overall random background pattern of pinpoints.

As I hoped, the stimulus from yesterday showed up as small bright blobs on the screen. The 3D view let me look from any angle and get a clear picture of where each occurred. From that it was a matter of matching the reactions on the screen to where I touched her.

I worked through the morning, had a quick bite for lunch and continued.

By mid afternoon, I had located the 'spike' in the data and went on to map the erogenous zones. On the display an are began to glow, becoming steadily brighter as the touching progress. I surmised this represented her arousal. A little later I was into the unintentional recording of our love making and her orgasm.

Late that evening I got another call from Jennifer, they had arrived home safely and she would see me tomorrow, but was too tired now and it was too late to come over according to her mother. We talked for a bit then she rang off.

I decided to run a few tests before I went up to bed. I selected an early data point, and setting the program for minimum output, and short duration. I wasn't worried about hurting myself, but still decided to err on the side of caution. With the headset in place I clicked the button and almost jumped out of my skin! It felt like someone had touched me lightly on the shoulder.

I had to stop and look around to make sure I was alone.

I programmed a series touches from the same area of the data, then sat back with my eyes closed as I felt multiple touches; hand, forearm, upper arm, and shoulder. There was something, an odd feeling, about the touches I felt. After two repetitions of the sequence, it hit me. For some reason, I could have sworn it was a guy touching me. Maybe an overtone from Jennifer knowing that I, a guy, had been touching her.

I decided to curtail this series of tests. I had no experience with homosexuals, I certainly did not consider myself homophobic, but those overtones were a bit disconcerting.

The next day, Jennifer arrived at about nine on a new, shiny green, motor scooter. A gift from her mother to help her get around when she left for university next month. She had to show it off, taking me for a short wobbly ride around the house. She let me take it around solo once and I told her I would stick to my car. While I thought the scooter might have it's uses, it just wasn't something that flipped my switch.

Down in the dungeon, I told her about my tests from the night before. She agreed to a quick test. She gave a start when it first started, giving me a hard look from across the room.

“That's so weird,” she said, “you were way over there, but I could feel you touching me.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, “ you felt 'me' touching you? Not just 'somebody' touching you?”

“Yes, I could tell it was you.” she said.

“Last night, when I tried it, I felt like a guy was touching me. Let's run a test just like the other day, except this time I'll wear the headset.”

I set things up just like the day before yesterday, stripped off my shirt, pulled on the headset, and stretched out in the reclining chair.

“Just start the timer and hit the record button,” I told her, “ the timer will chime about every five seconds. When it does, move to the next location.”

She clicked where I told her and began touching me; hand, forearm, upper arm and so on. A bit later I heard the timer chime twice without her touching me, just as I was going to ask her about it, she pinched me, Hard!

“Yow! What was that for?” I yelped.

“Spike in the data.” she replied with a giggle “now relax and hold still.”

Now she began to run her fingers along the edges of my ears, across my lips, down to my chest, rubbing my nipples. I closed my eyes, enjoying her touch.

Some of the touches tickled, some were an enormous turn on. She seemed to pause for a few seconds the I felt her lips on my nipples, kissing them and sucking gently. I was instantly hard. She moved around, kissing me here and there, finally planting a deep demanding kiss on my lips, probing aggressively with her tongue. Another pause and the faint sound of cloth dropping to the floor. Suddenly I felt her straddle my waist, then something was rubbing my chest, vaguely familiar and arousing.

I opened my eyes. She had stripped to the waist, rubbing my chest with her bare tits. I started to put my arms around her, but she grabbed my wrists, gently pushing them back down.

“Hold still!” she commanded in a rasping voice.

She climbed a little higher, brushing her tits across my lips, I tried to lick her nipples. Then she started to slide back down, kissing my eyelids and nose. I felt her nip at my lips gently with her teeth. She worked her way down my neck and back to my nipples, nipping at them lightly with her teeth. She moved down further, kissing across my stomach. I felt her pulling at my belt, then opening my pants. I I raised my hips slightly and she pulled my pants down to my thighs.

My cock leaped up, stiff and throbbing. She took my cock in one hand, gently rolling my balls in the other. She began to lick the head like some fleshy lolly. I couldn't help trying to thrust with my hips, but she pulled back a little every time I did. She kept licking, driving me mad with lust.

“Jenn, what are you doing?” I gasped out, “either go ahead or stop. I can't take this. It feels so good it almost hurts.”

“Shush,” she commanded.

She licked me a few more times, then took me into her mouth. Unlike before, she didn't strive for deep penetration, but held me there, swirling her tongue around and around. I felt the familiar tightness in my balls.

“Jenn, I'm going to . . .”

She growled in her throat, making short strokes and working her tongue. I shot into her mouth while she made noisy slurping sounds. As I finished, she didn't pull away, nor did she continue to suck as she had last time. After a moment she again held my balls in one hand and my softening cock in the other. She licked my balls, and along the shaft and kissing the tip now and then.

Soon I was hard as I had ever been. She made another growling sound and suddenly drove her mouth down to the very root of my cock, her throat seemed to clamp around me like a vice. She held me there for just a second then pulled back, looking at my cock as she bent it this way and that.

“Mine!” she pronounced, kissing the tip again, “don't move!”

She jumped up and stepped to the bench, digging out the shop bag from the other day, she extracted the condoms and lube. She absently stroked my cock a few times as she read the directions on the lube. She quickly kicked off her shoes and pulled off her shorts and panties, kicking them across the room. She examined the box of condoms for a moment.

“Do you know how . . .?” she asked, handing the box to me.

“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, “health class . . .”

She climbed back up, to straddle my thighs as I fumbled with the box. I managed to separate one of the little foil packets, and open it. I quickly rolled the sheath down over my ridged cock. She squirted a blob of the lube on her fingers and reached down to spread in in her slit. She jumped a bit and yelped.

“This stuff is cold!” she muttered as she continued to rub the lube into her slit.

She closed her eyes and began to make a purring sound, driving her fingers deeper and began to buck against her fingers. She pulled her hand away and wiped the residue onto my condom wrapped cock.

She knee walked her way up to straddle my hips. I reached for her tits, rubbing them with my palms and rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She moaned, leaning into my hands. She reached down to firmly hold my cock and raised herself up over my erect tool. With a little fumbling she had the head nestled in her folds.

She pressed down slowly, no more than half an inch, then stopped. With a determined look, she licked her lips once and suddenly dropped over my cock, driving it deep into her vagina in one quick thrust.

“Ow!” she yelped.

“Sweetheart?” I asked, worried that I'd hurt her somehow.

“It's okay.” she said raggedly, “So much for my carefully protected hymen.”

For a moment she sat there, holding very still while her vagina squeezed my cock. Then she slowly relaxed, laying down on my chest. I craned my head down to kiss her.

After a moment she pushed herself upright. She moved her hips with a small circular motion, and broke into a smile

“That feels good.” she said, “I was afraid I might be sore for a while.”

She increased the range of her motion, sending waves of pleasure through me.

My mind wandered off somewhere, I couldn't think or speak, just experience her incredible tightness. As much as she pleasured herself, she pleasured me. Long slow strokes, short quick strokes, and slow grinding circles. She fucked herself on my cock with a single minded determination. Her breath came quicker as she increased her pace, throwing here head from side to side, whipping her hair across my chest. She started moan, slamming herself onto me, then pulling slowly back, only to slam down again.

Every time she slammed down I thrust upward. She hooked her legs behind my knees, locking us together. Her gasps and moans turned into little yelps of pleasure. She arched her back, bracing herself with her hands on my thighs. I reached between us an placed a finger on her nub. She threw her head back, thrusting her tits into the air. Her nipples were hard little nubs, her areolae were crinkled tightly. She began a fast back and forth motion, more of a twitch than anything else. I gave her nub a gentle round massage. Her body went ridged, her vagina clamped down on me hard enough to hurt.

'Aiiiiiiiieeeeeee!” She screamed, in a louder, longer version of the last time.

Three times she screeched out her release, on the third I blew my load into her, seizing her hips as I tried to drive my cock even deeper into her.

Some timeless moment later we both began to relax a little. She slumped down onto my chest almost totally limp, I wrapped her in my arms and we lay there trying to get our breathing under control. Every few seconds her body would give a little shudder.

Several minutes later she lifted her head, looking into my eyes, she worked her way up my body, finally pulling herself off my cock, took my face in her palms and gave me a slow lingering kiss.

“That was . . . so . . .” she stopped, searching for a word, “Thank you.” she finally said.

“ you are most welcome, sweetheart.” I replied.

We lapsed back into a contented silence. I stroked her back and caressed her ass. After several more minutes, she shivered and began to carefully climb off me.

“I'm getting cold,” she said, “and I need to clean up a bit. She moved in an odd wide legged gait to the shelves where the package of wet wipes was. She pulled out several and began to wipe herself.

“Oh!” she gasped, “I am tender.”

She resorted to blotting more than wiping. I took a few wipes, and cleaned myself up, disposing of the used condom. I absently noted some flecks of blood.

Belatedly, I removed the headset and stopped the recording. I glanced at a clock. I thought it should have been evening already, but it was just before noon.

I gathered up our clothes, handing her the shirt and shorts she'd worn and pulling on my own pants, the rest I rolled into a tight bundle.

“Come on, there's a bidet in the upstairs bath.”I told her.

Upstairs, she went into the bath and I turned toward Mother and Father's room. I recalled a track suit my mother had bought in a moment of extreme optimism but had never managed to fit into. A brief rummage in the closet and I returned to the bath. I knocked softly and opened the door.

“Put this on and we'll run things in the washer.” I said.

I got out a washcloth and towel for her, setting them on the edge of the sink.

“I'll get us some lunch, come down to the kitchen when you're ready.”

In the kitchen, made sandwiches, laid out a bag of crisps and poured two large glasses from a jug of fruit punch. I drank almost half of mine and refilled it, then left the jug on the table.

When Jennifer came in I had to smile. While much too small for Mother, Jennifer had still needed to roll up the sleeves and pants to get even close to a proper fit on her petite frame. We sat down to eat.

“I never knew it could be like that.” she said.

“Me either,” I said, “I mean, I've . . . uh . . . masturbated, but it never felt like that.”

“Me too,” she said, “but I'd never felt . . . fireworks like that.”

“I kind of want to do it again and again, but . . .”

“Me too, but I think I need a day or two to recover. When Mum told me about sex and stuff, she said a little bleeding is normal and it can take a few days to heal over. I just need to keep myself clean while it does.”

“ I can understand that,” I said, “Besides, it would never do for Mother to discover our bodies after we screwed ourselves to death.” I laughed.

She started to laugh too.

“I can imagine your Mother,” she laughed, “ 'Oh, bother, they've stained the carpet.'.”

We dissolved into gales of laughter.

Shortly we straightened the kitchen, started the washer and went back down to the dungeon.

“Show me how you process the data,” she asked, “it has to be a bigger job that what we did before.”

“It is,” I said, “the interpreter ran overnight and I spent most of yesterday parsing out the stimuli.”

I ran the video, pointing out the flashes of activity and how I linked them to the various stimuli.

“What's that one?” she asked, indicating pale blob toward the end of the video.

“I'm not sure, I answered, “but it's the last event before I took the headset off you.”

“Can you cue it up?” she asked.

“Sure, that part is easy,” I said, “but are you sure you want to try it?”

“It should be okay,” she said, “I mean its something that was already in my head.”

“Okay,” I said, “I'm curious about it too.”

I set up the program and put the headset on her.

“That event was several minutes long,” I told her, “I'm only going to give you a second or so to start.”


I clicked the button. Jennifer went limp in the chair, making a little satisfied 'hmm' deep in her throat. It was over almost before it began. She sat up, blinking, looking a little confused.

“That was . . . nice” she said in dreamy voice, “Can we do it more?”

“Do you know what it was?” I asked.

“I guess it was what they call 'afterglow'” she said, “I felt all dreamy and relaxed and so satisfied.”

“You make it sound like a drug,” I said.

“On second thought, maybe more of that is not a good idea,” she said, “I can see how that might be addictive.”

We talked about it for while then she ran upstairs to move the clothes to the dryer. When she came back down, we discussed some of the ways this might be used or misused.

“This is getting a little scary,” I said, “providing and then withholding a stimulus could allow someone to make someone do almost anything. Like they say drug users will do anything for their next fix.”

“I think you're right, she said soberly, “that is a scary idea.”

when the dryer finished she put her own clothes back on and shortly after, mounted her new scooter and buzzed her way back home.

I wadded up Mothers track suit and hid it my room, it had Jennifer's scent on it.

I spent a sleepless night, thinking about her and worrying about what kind of genie we might be letting out of the bottle.

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A Boy and His dungeon III

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moooow2 — 16 May 2019 22:31
good story!
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