Science Project 1

It's a very small house. If you're sitting on the couch watching TV, you're in full view of someone who comes in the front door. There's nowhere to hide.

Normally this isn't a problem. But one day, the TV was showing porn, and I was on the couch carefully edging my cock just up to the point of release. I'd been at it so long that I could keep myself right on the edge by moving my hand only a millimeter, then holding it perfectly still. I knew from past experience: any sudden movement would push me over.

Maybe it wasn't great planning to be in such a vulnerable pose, so visible to anyone who opened the front door. But in my defense, my mental focus wasn't on planning just then. And furthermore, we had no idea anyone would be coming in, least of all my sister.

* * * * *

The little house is only two blocks from our state university campus. My parents bought it a few years ago, partly as an investment and partly so they could avoid paying for dorm rooms while their kids were in college. The first resident was my brother, Josh, who moved in about five years ago. He lived there for a year with a roommate, then the roommate was kicked out when it was time for my sister, Ashley, to start college.

It isn't quite working out according to the grand plan. Even though Josh graduated a year ago with a degree in engineering, he hasn't ever said anything about moving out of the house. Now that he's 23, I thought he'd have been ready to move long ago. Then again, I suppose the place is convenient, the rent is cheap, and the landlords are reasonably forgiving. Whatever.

But it gets worse. Ashley, who's 22, is supposed to get her biology degree next month, and she just told everyone she's not planning to move either. She got a great job nearby and anyplace else would have a longer commute.

This is where the problem arises. I'm 18, just graduated from high school. I'm already accepted at the same college, and my courses for the fall are already picked out. The whole idea was for me, the college student, to stay at the house, not for the two paycheck-earning siblings to camp out for extended post-graduate housing.

The house has two tiny bedrooms, so if they both stay, I either have to share a bedroom with Josh, which isn't ideal, or sleep on the couch, which is even worse. Our dad is taking a hands-off attitude, which is surprising because I expected him to force them to clear a room for me. So, in summary, my living situation next year is still uncertain.

One Saturday during this period of uncertainty, all three of us siblings had some time off, and Josh invited me to the house to spend the day with them. Nothing special, just hanging out. I had nothing else to do, so I went over there about 9:30 in the morning.

Josh answered the door and greeted me with a hug. He was wearing dark blue sweatpants and a T-shirt, and he had a couple days' stubble on his cheeks. I felt practically formal in my jeans and polo.

"Yo, bro," he said, releasing the hug but then pulling me in the room. "Glad you could make it."

"For you, I cleared my schedule."

"Oh really? Lots of social events to rearrange?"

"Yeah, my secretary's been working for days clearing my calendar."

"I'm honored, truly." He bent at the waist and gave a fake bow.

"Yeah, well, you should be," I said. "So where's Ashley?"

"Oh. Change of plans. She had to work this morning. Someone else called in sick, and she said she'd go in until noon." Ashley works at Y-Mart, a big-box store that sells mostly stuff for around the house. It cracked me up when she got a job there, because the three of us used to prowl at length around the toy aisles when we were kids. She works there after classes and on weekends, her last job before joining the "real" work force, as she called it.

I followed Josh into the kitchen, where he had a mug of coffee started. I helped myself to a Coke, and we sat at the little kitchen table with our drinks. Josh had the radio on a station he always listened to that played songs from the '80s, '90s, and "today." As though "today" is just this blip of time since the 1990s ended. If so, I wasn't even born until "today." But whatever. At the moment "Billie Jean" was on.

When the song ended, a commercial came on for an auto body shop. With utmost emotion, a group of singers pealed, "Dents be gone" over and over, at least six times. I'm sure Josh hears the commercial constantly on this station. This would drive me crazy, but apparently it didn't bother him.

I said, "By the way, this commercial reminds me. Did you ever get the dent in your truck fixed?"

"Nah. It was super expensive, and I got a check from the insurance whether I fixed it or not, so I'm leaving the dent. I have better things to do with that cash."

"Yeah, good idea." I'm admittedly and thankfully clueless about the vagaries of car insurance claims.

The next commercial was for a carpet cleaning service. To fill the conversation void, I said, "Mom just had the carpet cleaned at home."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, they had to move all the furniture and then move it all back again. A royal pain."

"I wouldn't know about that," he said. "I've never had the carpet cleaned here and probably never will."

"One of the advantages of not living under Mom's roof, I guess."

"Hey Alex, are we just gonna talk about commercials today?"

I smiled. "Sure, if that's what you want."

"OK," he said, "what's the next commercial gonna be for?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe the lottery. I could stand to win a few bucks. Or maybe the Chevy dealer." He paused. "Of course, I can only go to the Chevy dealer if I win the lottery."

After the carpet cleaner gave the phone number for the seventh time, we were both piqued for who the next radio peddler would be. The mystery was solved when a deep voice intoned, "Men all across the state are learning how Ejacucenter can help them in bed."

Josh and I turned to look at each other, breaking out in laughter as the ad continued. "Do you have erectile dysfunction? Premature ejaculation? Ejacuenter can solve your problems! Bring your penis in today!"

Josh was practically rolling on the floor, he was laughing so hard. Once he calmed down enough to speak, he said, "So, Alex, we still gonna talk about the commercials? How's your dick been?"

Through a waning chuckle, I said, "Oh, it's fine."

"Fine? Just fine? I was expecting more than fine. Strong, powerful, active?"

I laughed again. "Not so active."

The commercials were over and the radio was back to music. This time it was "Manic Monday."

He continued, "Well of course it isn't going to be so active if it's just fine."

I didn't respond, and I must have had a strange look on my face.

"What? What is it, Alex?"

"Nothing."

Now he started being all concerned. "Jesus, is something really wrong with your dick?"

"No, not wrong exactly, just . . ." I paused, trying to decide whether this is something brothers talk about. "I mean, I don't want to bother you with it."

He leaned in over the table and lowered his voice, even though it was only the two of us there. "You can tell me. I'll keep it quiet."

With some trepidation, I said, "OK, I guess. So the thing is, when I'm . . . you know, turned on? I make a huge amount of, um . . . precum."

Josh's eyebrows lifted through the top of his forehead. "Well, that is not what I expected you to say, bro."

"Yeah, so, I mean, it's not exactly a problem, but sometimes it's a little embarrassing."

"So, how much precum are we talking about?" he asked.

I should have guessed there would be follow-up questions, and my discomfort was increasing as we continued. "I mean, it depends on the situation, you know? A quick jerk is no problem, but if things stretch on, that's when I start to turn into a fountain."

"Jesus, a fountain? Really?"

"OK, you got me. It's not as much as a fountain."

"So how much is it? Less than a fountain, but how much less?"

"I mean, I've never measured exactly how much there is. What do you want me to do, borrow mom's measuring spoons?"

"Yeah, great idea. Be sure to tell her exactly why you need them."

"Ha ha," I said, dripping sarcasm.

"Listen, Alex, you're not giving me anything to work with here. I'm trying to figure out if what's happening to you is like what happens to me. But so far all I know is that you make less than a fountain's worth."

"Yeah, that's about all I know for sure."

He said, "Well let me ask you this: What makes you think it's more than most guys?"

"I'm not giving you any more details, Josh. I'm just not."

"No, you have to, Alex. How else am I supposed to know if I should take you to the ER?"

"That's easy. You shouldn't."

We sat in silence for a few seconds until Josh continued, "Let's try this another way. I'll tell you about myself, and you tell me if it sounds like what happens to you. Deal?"

I said, "Yeah, I guess."

"OK, so let's say I'm in a hurry. I stroke my rod, it hardens up, and I blow my load, the whole thing in less than five minutes. Know what I'm talking about?"

"Of course." I smiled. "This is one thing I know about."

"OK, so when I'm in a hurry, there might not be any precum. Not even a drop."

"Yeah, same for me," I said.

"OK, so far no problem then. Now let's talk about when I'm making out with a girl, we're going at it hot and heavy, I'm giving her some decent foreplay. Maybe it's, I don't know, fifteen or twenty minutes before I'm ready to go inside her. By then there's almost always precum, enough to drizzle down my shaft, unless she's licking it off or something."

I paused. "So here's the thing. I mean, I can relate to the amount of time you're talking about, but the rest of it, not so much. I'm not exactly fighting off the women."

"OK, well, it's more fun with someone else, but the plumbing works about the same either way."

"Yeah, so, after twenty minutes, I would have a lot more than just a drizzle down my shaft."

"This is where I need some details, Alex. Are we talking about a squirt from the soap dispenser? Or . . ." He was struggling to come up with a suitable analogy, then spied my soda. "Or a squirt from the Coke dispenser?"

I couldn't help a giggle, but then tried to think it through rationally. "I mean, it's hard to say. It's not like it comes out all at one time like one of those. It oozes out gradually, you know?"

He said, "Yeah, I get it. Then let's do it this way. Suppose you're turned on, but you still have your boxers on. Whatever you're doing is enough to keep you nice and hard. Maybe you're stroking yourself through your shorts, I don't know. Anyway, after let's say twenty minutes, how big of a wet spot would there be on your boxers?"

"Jesus, I have no idea. If I'm stroking myself, I don't have my boxers on, and even if I did, I wouldn't exactly be thinking about getting out a tape measure."

Josh thought for a moment, then looked at me conspiratorially, with one eyebrow raised and a half smile. "You know," he said, "there is a way we can figure this out. Scientifically, I mean."

I didn't like where this was going, but even so I said, "Oh? And how exactly do we do this?"

"It's simple. I'll just set a timer for twenty minutes, then we'll measure. All we have to do is get you really turned on, but I think we can figure that out." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to face me, though the screen was still dark. "What's your favorite kink?"

"Josh," I said, "I really don't think I want-"

He interrupted. "Alex, this is for science. It's a controlled experiment. You'll learn something about yourself, and then you won't have to wonder if you're a freak of nature."

"Listen, I'm not doing this with you. This is just too weird."

"Don't you watch some porn once in a while? Doesn't it feel good when your dick stiffens up and you know what's about to happen?"

"Yeah, I mean, sure, but not with my brother."

"Dude, I'll just be here for the science part. You just said that you aren't in the mood to measure your wet spot when you're horny. You can just focus on being horny and I'll take care of everything else."

"Tell you what, this is a great idea, I'll do this when I'm at home by myself some day."

He squinted at me. "Tell you what, I'm gonna watch some porn right now. You don't have to watch if you don't want."

"God, this is so weird," I said.

"It doesn't have to be weird. Come on." He got up, turned off the radio, and made the short trek from the kitchen to the living room, taking a seat on the left side of the couch. I reluctantly followed. He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, then swiped his phone to life and started scrolling. He turned back to look at me. "Over here, Alex, there's plenty of room on the couch."

The couch is a hand-me-down from our folks, so I've been sitting on it virtually my whole life. The back and armrests are fully padded, but the fabric is tired. You might think stains wouldn't show on dark brown, but this couch would prove you wrong.

Anyway, I sat down on the other end of the couch and kept my eyes on him. I couldn't tell what he was scrolling through on his phone, but I figured it out soon enough when a video popped up on the TV.

"We're really doing this?" I asked.

"Don't forget, it's for science."

On the screen was part of a swimming pool surrounded by immaculately kept shrubbery and trees so tall and thick I couldn't see past them. The deck had a few chaise lounges and umbrellas. The gray cushions on the chaises matched the umbrellas exactly, and unlike our couch, no stains. It looked like the pool at a resort. No, strike that. I've never been to a resort. It looked like what I imagine a resort pool probably looks like.

A very attractive blond woman was lying on her back on one of the chaises, eyes closed, soaking up the sun in a skimpy white two-piece. It was almost impossible not to notice the striking contrast between the blinding white of her bikini and the bronze of her skin, glistening in the sun. The edge of her bikini top crossed each breast so deep into her cleavage that I couldn't help ogling to see if any nipple was showing. None was.

There was some soft music coming from the TV too, but Josh turned the volume down so it was almost inaudible. He was still messing with his phone, but after a moment he turned to me. "So here's how this will work. The timer on my phone is set for twenty minutes. Tell me as soon as you get hard, and I'll start it. After that, do whatever you want. You can just sit there if you want, as long as you stay hard. You don't have to take anything off or touch anything if you don't want."

I heard him, but I only saw him through my peripheral vision, because I couldn't take my eyes off the woman on the screen, her chest lightly rising and falling with each breath. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs the other way. "Yeah, ok," I said.

"The only thing is, you can't cum until I say. The timer goes off, we do the science, then you can cum or not. Whatever you want."

"Yeah, I got it."

There was a splash on the TV, and the woman's eyes opened. The splash happened in part of the pool that was off camera, so it wasn't clear at first what caused it. Soon enough a guy in the pool entered the frame, swimming laps. He went in and out of the picture as he made his way back and forth across the pool. It was hard to see him because of the water splashing around, but the woman eyed him going to and fro.

Josh said, "Have you seen this one before?"

"No."

"It's a good one. I think you'll like it."

I wondered what about this video made Josh think I would like it, considering that we'd never so much as discussed porn before. But my brain pushed this aside when the guy stopped swimming and climbed up the steps out of the pool, dripping water all over the deck. Now we could see his black swimsuit, somewhat baggy, as he grabbed a towel and patted himself off. The guy was incredibly fit, a lean waist, nice pecs and shoulders. He ran the towel across each leg and showed off his beefy quads, either to the woman or the camera or both. The woman's eyes were glued to him, but he didn't even glance her way.

"Oh," Josh said. "I just thought of something else we need to know. For science."

"What's that?" I asked, with some trepidation.

"We need to know how long it's been since the last time you . . . you know, got your rocks off."

"I really don't see how that matters."

The guy finished drying off and took the chaise lounge right next to the woman. The two chaises were butted right against each other, the cushions touching. A few beads of water remained on his skin, making bright dots in the direct sun. He lay on his back, still seemingly oblivious to her presence. She stayed on her back, but her head was turned so she could watch him continuously.

"No, it does matter. I bet you make more precum when it's been a while since your last . . . time. Don't you think?" He was talking to me, but his eyes, like mine, were riveted to the screen. "It's another data point we need to record."

I sighed. Any shred of privacy I intended to retain was rapidly disintegrating. "Well, let's see. I guess it was Thursday morning. About two days."

"Got it. Two days," he said. "Isn't morning sex the best?"

"Yeah, well, this was just myself. As usual."

"Either way. It's still the best in the morning."

The camera switched to a new angle, and the screen was completely filled by the two chaises, his on the left and hers on the right. The guy had one arm up behind his head, which, I must say, showed off his abs nicely. He had a uniform tan across his arms and chest and not a hint of body hair.

The woman rolled onto one side facing him, supporting her head with her arm bent at the elbow. For a half second he turned his head toward her, but then he looked away again. Did they know each other? Or did they just happen to be using the pool at the same time? He was acting exactly like he would if he didn't know her. Now that we had a side view of her, we could see that both pieces of her bikini were tied at the side, straps of fabric hanging down against her tanned skin.

"Should I start the timer yet?" Josh asked.

I couldn't get over how odd it felt to discuss the state of my cock with my brother. There was definitely some engorgement happening, but so far the action wasn't anything to get that excited about. Plus, sitting with my brother on this couch, the two of us fully clothed, didn't contribute much to the eroticism. "No, not yet."

"OK, don't forget to let me know."

The woman just lay on her side and bored her eyes into him, but he didn't look her way at all after that one quick glance. His eyes were closed. The woman adjusted herself a little, scooting along her cushion to get closer to the guy. It was fun to watch her body jiggle as she moved. One of her boobs was pressed against the cushion now, and the strap holding her cups together completely lifted away from her body, just a fraction of an inch. Again I gave a close inspection of her cleavage. Her nipples were still concealed, but it couldn't have been by much.

After a moment of just lying next to him, she surprised me. She leaned over and licked his chest, from the bottom of his pec to his nipple. The only contact between them was the tip of her tongue. He still didn't open his eyes, but the tiniest hint of a smile crossed his face.

Josh chimed in again. "Can you imagine a chick doing that to you? Would you not be shocked as hell if some random woman introduced herself to you with just her tongue like that?"

I said, "If I was sitting next to that woman, there is no way my eyes would be closed." Josh laughed out loud at that.

The camera tightened in on them. She grabbed his nipple in her mouth and gently squeezed it between her teeth. At last he opened his eyes, but he still didn't seem to be paying any attention to her. Whether or not they knew each other, it seemed like if this woman grabbed his nipple in her mouth, he might show a tiny bit more reaction.