Behind The Bike Sheds,
Chapter 15
Martha
We had been back at college for a month or so when a sealed letter appeared in my pigeonhole. It was another missive from Miss Ford and read:
Jamie,Please come to Room 4.08 at afternoon break tomorrow (Wednesday). I need to discuss something with you. Come alone.
M. Ford
My first thought was, 'oh no, what have I done now?' Had she seen Diana walking back from her show still topless? Why was she singling me out? Had she heard that we had re-started our behind the bike sheds activities, and was going to put me on report? I suppose it had always been at the back of my mind that using the college property for our occasional shows might not be the best place to get together. It was, after all, private property and there's no way they would have granted permission. The rest of the day and the following one came and went in an anxious blur.
At afternoon break on Wednesday I made my way to Miss Ford's room. She was sitting behind her desk, and stood up to greet me as I entered.
"Sit there," she beckoned, pointing at the same table I had been sitting at the last time we had met.
"I guess you're probably wondering why I have called you here?" I nodded sheepishly. "It's nothing to worry about." I began to relax, though only slightly. "I would like to use one of your so-called 'shows' as research material for a course on Free Will, Volition and Coercion I am teaching." I had no idea what this was going to entail. So all I could add was,
"Go on."
"If you and your friends are willing, I should like to provide you with a 'showgirl' for one of your shows, but be permitted to observe the event myself and record my observations for use in teaching. I should like to witness the various physical tells and facial and bodily expressions of both you boys and your showgirl. It's a rare opportunity to explore the motivations of your models and to see how your responses to them change their mood. For example, is there a euphoria, almost a drunkenness that your models get from the exercise, that leads them on, or is it a sharpening of their senses that brings their sensuality into focus?"
"I will have to ask the others," I responded. "When you say you want to record your observations, would this be through photos or videos or..." She cut me off.
"No! Just on paper. And your identities would never be revealed."
"OK. Well then let me ask the others and check that they're OK with it."
"Need I remind you," she suddenly had a stern look on her face, "there is still the matter of your behavior to deal with. As it is I am largely satisfied that you are all grown-up, mature individuals. If you were to let me undertake this observation, I would be able to determine, one way or the other, whether your attitudes are respectful or not"
"How shall I get back in touch with you?" I asked.
"Leave a note in my pigeonhole. In a sealed envelope. The model I have in mind for you is flexible on dates, so please also indicated which Friday you could 'fit her in'." She emphasised the last few words, as if we had some kind of backed-up diary that would need to be re-organised. Perhaps she hadn't quite got the measure of the occasional nature of our shows.
On the way home that evening I discussed it with the others. Adam was a little nervous about the concept, he didn't like the idea of having one of the college professors watching one of our shows. The other were relatively satisfied that, as long as Miss Ford didn't bring any cameras or other recording equipment, there was little harm that could be done. Mike came up with the idea of offering Friday of that week for the show, as the short notice might deter or delay the idea. The next morning I left a message for Miss Ford and though I don't usually check my college mail that often, on the way out in the evening I checked and there was a reply:
Jamie,Thank you for your prompt response. This coming Friday may prove difficult. I shall confirm with you by lunchtime tomorrow.
M. Ford
Mike's idea to advance the timetable might just work. However, Thursday afternoon I checked my pigeonhole again and there was another note from Miss Ford:
Jamie,I have checked with my model and she is available this Friday afternoon.
Unless I hear from you otherwise, I shall be with you at 5:45 which I understand is the appointed time for the shows. I will ensure that the model is fully briefed on your guidelines. There is nothing additional that you and your friends need to bring with you.
M. Ford
We would have to play along after all. At least it would be over with quickly! That evening our conversation on the way home was abuzz with conjecture on who the model would be. Would it be one of Miss Ford's students? It might be one of the girls we had seen around the college. Would it be a friend of Miss Ford, maybe another older woman? Adam even suggested that the show might be interrupted for Miss Ford to measure our skin galvanization. Conan joked that maybe she would measure the length of our penises at each point to judge the extent of our arousal, not a pretty thought.
After college finished the next day, we wandered over behind the bike sheds. At 5:30, ahead of schedule, Miss Ford appeared.
"Ah, so here you all are. I just need to collect some equipment from my car. No cameras, just some things I need for the observation, papers and such like. The model should be here soon. Her name is Martha. Please be kind to her, she is quite nervous." Miss Ford dissappeared around the corner.
"I bet you were not expecting that now boys! You wanted a showgirl, so I have given you my interpretation of one." We were more than surprised that the model was her, and even more taken aback by her interpretation of what a showgirl looked like. I guess that as she had made the appointment herself and not through Donna, she wasn't aware that our so-called showgirls usually just turned up in their regular clothes and not some outrageous outfit befitting of the Moulin Rouge. I wondered if any of the other college professors had a hand in helping with the metalwork, or whether this was an outfit she had kept from her younger modelling years.
Conan raised a query, "Mam, can I take a photograph of you?"
"Of course, Conan. That's part of your guidelines isn't it? And call me Martha. I'm a showgirl this evening, not a professor."
"So, mam, er, Martha," Mike asked. "Are you serious about wanting to observe a show, or is this all just a bit of a wind-up?"
Before answering his question, she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. Her pussy, now slightly on view, was hairy and black. We stood in silence, having not expected that in the slightest.
"Does that answer your question?" She laughed again. "I am very serious about observing how the mind of a woman who is putting on a show for you boys acts, and I could not think of a better way of doing so than to experience it myself. Now I understand that as part of the rules, you will all strip naked before me. I would like you to do that now."
We looked at each other. There seemed no harm in undressing, given that Martha was now bottomless herself, her hairy bush on show, though we were mighty nervous about doing so in front of a professor.
"Don't be afraid," she added, "you can see that I'm not carrying any cameras! Just this feather!" As she waved the feather around, we took off our clothes, but left our sneakers on, to reveal varying degrees of arousal. None of us was rock solid, it was too complex a situation for our brains to get fully to grips with.
"I see that despite me wearing my best showgirl outfit and even with my vagina on show, some of you are not yet showing overt signs of arousal. Would anyone like to tell me why?"
I was the first to respond, "You're one of the college professors, Ma... Martha."
"Not today, I'm not," she replied. "So let me see what it takes to get you boys fully aroused. I must say, for my own part, having revealed my vagina... Oh, wait, that's probably not a sensual term for it, is it now... my bush to you," she waved the feather over her hairy bush, "you still want more?" We cautiously nodded, still wondering what Martha was up to.
"I believe that your guidelines require me to show you my ass," her voice was calm and controlled. "So here it is!" She began to wave her ass from side to side in front of us. Now feeling a little more relaxed that we were not being set up, my brain started to appreciate the big booty bouncing around in front of us and my cock, in agreement, began to fill out.
Martha bent down low so that she could look at us from between her legs.
"I see you are all becoming a little more aroused. That's good because there is no point me exposing myself to you if you stand there sheepishly uninflated."
"I've always been particularly fond of my bumptious bosoms. They keep me company on those cold winter evenings when there's little else to do. Here, let me show you."
"I can see that you are all now definitely enjoying the show. Time for me to stop for a while and for you to tell me how you are feeling. And for me to think about how all this is affecting me mentally and physically."
Having initially thought that Martha was maybe out to entrap us, I was now even doubting her story of her scientific experiment. Her exhibitionism was above and beyond the majority of the women who had so far put on shows and I couldn't help beginning to think that maybe she was trying to recapture the showgirl days of her youth, and just wanted some admiration of her, now older, and though still curvy, less shapely mature figure.
"That is one load of bumptiousness you have going on there, miss." Adam was the first to speak.
"That may be the case," Martha replied, "but that doesn't tell me how you are feeling or what's going through your mind. What does my naked show make you want to do? What would you have me do? Which parts of the show turn you on the most, and don't? I can see you are all aroused, but that doesn't tell me how much. And as this is the first time I've seen you all like this, I don't know if your response is normal or not."
What followed was a discussion that was, in many ways, that which we would normally have following each show. We all had our different opinions on what made the show good, or not. Conan and Adam, it turned out, had been turned on by the idea that Martha was really Miss Ford, and the fact that today's showgirl was someone they knew beforehand, and would presumably see later in a less erotic situation, was a real brain teaser for them. I, on the other hand, had largely already forgotten who Martha really was, and instead was just enjoying the view of her body, especially those mammoth mammaries which were bouncing up and down in front of me. Mike perhaps took it the furthest and said that he would really like to touch Martha's body, to feel what her curves, and, he admitted, her beaver, actually felt like.
"Thank you for your candour, Mike. Each of us is tuned to different senses, and though most men are very visual when it comes to arousal, you obviously consider the sense of touch to be as important. How would you like me to blindfold you and just brush your body with mine?"
"I'd like that very much indeed, but I think if I hadn't seen your body first, it would not have the same attraction."
"Go on," Martha encouraged.
"Because although I would know that there was a naked body against mine, knowing what that body looks like means that if I could no longer see you, I would be able to imagine what was happening. If I hadn't seen you first, my imagination would have too much of an empty hole to fill in." Mike explained.
"And what about if I had blindfolded you before the show, made you strip naked, told you to lie down, and then straddled your waist and lowered my pussy over your cock?" Her very brazen answer had my mind racing about what was going to happen next and my cock jolted in anticipation.
"Er," Mike was just about to respond when Martha cut him short.
"No need to answer that, I can guess your response and I saw clearly how my words affected your compadres. Now just give me a minute to get my own thoughts straight, and we shall continue." I wondered what else she had in mind as all of the boxes of the guidelines had already been ticked. Ass, tick. Tits, tick. Pussy, tick.
"OK." Martha instructed, "Squat down like me. Keep your legs spread apart so that your cocks are proud and prominent." Fore some reason, though we were no closer, we found ourselves somehow more face to face with Martha, so that any facial expressions we, or she, made would be in clear focus. "Let's finish the show."
I wondered what she had in mind, when she issued her final instructions.
Martha eventually stopped and stood slowly back up. I could almost smell the juices that had formed in her bush. She picked up her metal bikini from the floor and held it in one hand.
"Should I attempt to put this on, or just walk around to the car park naked?" She asked. "Mike, maybe you would like to help me put it back on?"
"Yes miss, er Martha." Mike responded.
"Walk over here would you. I think you should close your eyes because I shall be asking you to stand right next to me as I dress up and I don't want you getting that much of a close up. You might notice I'm a little older than you." I am sure that the others sensed that this was not just a simple call for help, but maybe the conclusion to her experiment. "The rest of you," Martha looked across at us, "I want you to give Mike instructions as to how to put my costume back on me."
Without being able to get that close to the metal contraption that Martha had entered wearing, it was next to impossible to give Mike clear instructions as to how to put it back on Martha as we could not really see how it was put together. As we all tried to offer Mike advice, Martha would move about so that as we made some progress she would let the bikini fall off her shoulder or arm and we were back to square one. All through this, Mike was having to feel his way around her body to find her arms, or shoulders. On more than one occasion his hands happened against her breasts and realising what he was touching, he would quickly pull back.
Finally we had succeeded in getting the top half of the outfit over her shoulders and with the cups of her metal bikini in roughly the right position. The next move was for Mike to put the bikini cups over her boobs, and there would be no pulling back from this, he would have to handle her handfuls. He held the right bra cup steady with one hand and with the other he reached up for her right boob and held it with his hand. They were large enough that one hand wasn't really big enough to hold it steady but by bringing his hands towards each other and feeling around the metal, he managed to get one boob back in its cup. As he attempted to repeat the exercise with the other boob, the right one fell back out of the bra.
"This isn't going anywhere fast, is it?" Martha asked. "Here, let me help you." She held Mike's hand and placed it under her right boob, whilst she used her other hand to put the bikini back in place. Once completed, she got Mike to hold her left boob whilst she somehow managed to wriggle that back into the bikini. As for the other straps that held the gun and sat over her lower body, there was no way that our hamfisted instructions were going to be able to instruct Mike.
"I guess that's about as good as that part of my costume is going to fit. There's just my panties to go. No instructions from you boys this time, let Mike put them on me by himself."
She picked her panties up from the floor and put them in Mike's hand. He worked them around his hands until he had decided (correctly as it happens) which holes were for her legs, and which for her waist. Mike then kneeled down and felt around for her ankles. He lifted one of her feet off the floor and managed to get her leg into one side of her panties. By feeling his way to her other leg, he managed to get her other foot through the other side of the panties. As Martha stood there smiling at us, Mike with his hands on the far left and far right of her legs, being careful to avoid her inner thighs, began raising her panties up her legs. When they reached her ass, they caught around her fanny, and due to them now resisting any further lifting, Mike assumed that they were now back in place. We, on the other hand, could see that there was still a good 8 inches further to go and that the panties were still not covering Martha's bush.
"Are you done, Mike?" Martha asked.
"I think so. They aren't going any higher." Mike ventured.
"Are you sure? You need to double check to make sure the job has been finished." She grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach. "Run your hand slowly downwards, and if you reach the panties before you reach my pussy, you will know you've completed the task correctly."
Mike slowly moved his hand downwards over her stomach and past her bellybutton. Inch by inch his hand moved lower until he finally felt something other than skin. With his eyes closed, and convinced he had finished the job, he assumed it was her panties.
"Seems like everything's in place to me," he offered.
"Keep going!" Martha instructed. Mike gingerly lowered his hand further and must have quickly realised that this was not the elasticated waist of her panties but that his hand must now be touching her pussy. His cock spasmed.
"Found those panties yet?" Martha asked. Mike seemed fixated in his task as he continued to lower his hand over her bush. We could see his hand touching her pussy lips where it almost sank into her moistness. His cock spasmed again as he realised where his hand must be.
"Don't stop now," she told him, "I want this job finished properly." He continued to lower his hand, using less pressure so as not to let his fingers end up in her bush, and as he began to feel his hand reach down right between her legs, he finally touched the panties. He raised his other hand and put his hands on the waistband and gently pulled the painties upwards. They refused to move any higher. Martha held both his hands and pulled them towards her and around her ass and put them on the back of her panties.
"This is the problem, Mike, they are caught on my bottom." Mike felt around her ass and managed to get the panties to clear their fanny shaped obstruction, and was able to pull them up around her waist where they once again met with resistance and he stopped.
Ok Mike, you can open your eyes now." Mike opened his eyes and instead of finding that the panties were in position, he found himself face to face with Martha's pussy. Though he had managed to pull the panties up to cover her ass, the front was still caught below her waist. His cock spasmed once again.
"I see that the experience of touching me has had the effect I was hoping for. But you still haven't completed the job, so if you wouldn't mind, would you please make sure that my bush is covered by my panties for my walk back to the car park." Mike reached forward and gently gripped the front of the waistband of Martha's panties. Now that he could see what he was touching as he slowly raised them, the multiple attack on his senses must have overloaded his brain and he spasmed again and his cum sprayed out in front of him. Miraculously it missed Martha as it shot between her slightly akimbo legs.
"Excellent. The job is done, and so is my experiment. I was hoping that one of you would bring up the notion of multiple senses being involved in arousal. There is a theory which states that it is possible to make a man reach orgasm without touching his cock, just by arousing several senses, touch, sight, sound, and even smell, simultaneously. You have just proven that theory correct. May I say that this has been immensely stimulating for me, and I have tried to record my thoughts. I intend to write up a paper on my experience, though you needn't worry, I shan't be mentioning any of your names, or the full nature of what went on, just the sensory interactions. And you also needn't concern yourselves with any comeback," she smirked at the word 'comeback', "this will remain confidential between ourselves. After all, if anyone from the college found out what I had done, I would be out on my ass as quickly as you would."
After wishing us all a safe journey home, she waddled off towards the car park, her ass barely covered by her panties, and the loose chains on her metal costume contraption not really holding her big boobs still as they almost swam from side to side as she walked.
I shan't bore you with the conversations that the boys and I had on the way home that evening, as they were more scientific than usual. Mike, however, was at pains to point out that he was clearly special and that he was looking forward to his next sensory overload.
The following week there was another note in my pigeonhole which read:
Jamie,Please thank your friends for participating in my psychological experiment. I should like to invite you all around to my kitchen for a drink to show you all my 'appreciation', and to let you read my write-up of the results for your approval.
Would you like to join me next Friday evening outside college and I can give you all a ride?
Martha Ford
I showed the letter to the boys and we all agreed that the fact that she had highlighted the word 'appreciation' in the phrase "show you all my 'appreciation'" might mean that it would be more than her appreciation that was on show. We were also intrigued by the idea of giving us all a ride. As it turns out we were right about the show of appreciation, but not in the way that this story might suggest. When we called around, she got us all a cold beer and brought out a big folder full of pictures of her as a nude model when she was much younger. She had been quite the pretty one and she regailed us with tales of her exploits. It was a surprisingly relaxed evening. I guess after sharing the frisson of our previous encounter, we were now all more at ease with each other.
We read her write up of the event and was surprised how much detail she had recalled about our responses and how it had made her feel. Mike's 'sensory overload' was described in some detail but all very accurate. The end of the paper already discussed our kitchen drinks and the ease with which we conversed and speculated about why this might be. Some of the language was too complex for me to understand but we all got the gist. We were never part of any future experiments which was kind of a shame, as we had gotten to like being lab rats!