Peer Review, Session One, Recording Two

by Tritium

Sam allowed the woman a few minutes to smoke, while reading a few text messages that came on her phone while the interview was taking place. These messages were met with groans and giggles alike. After five minutes, sufficient time to smoke a cigarette, Sam put her phone away and shifted in her chair to get comfortable again. "Are you ready?"

"I am if you are." She replied, not realizing until too late that it was a circular statement. She had been the one to insist on a break, not Sam, and Sam had been the one asking to resume the interview.

"I am." If tone could express how far back Sam had rolled her eyes, the woman guessed Sam would be looking at her own brain.

The woman started the recorder again. "Subject Jane Doe Two, Interview one, now eight-fifty-eight PM. Jane, before we continue discussing your sex life and relationships, I would like to know more about you. What activities you participate in at school, what you do out of school, what you do for fun."

"Fun, other than sex, you mean?" Sam's question was an answer in and of itself.

"Yes, other than sex."

"Well, I don't do anything in school that I don't have to; not in a while at least. It's too clique-y. I find most of the other girls annoying and petty. When I hang around with them, I feel like I'm turning into them, and I don't like it. As for after school, I do martial arts three times a week. Nothing too extreme, I practice jujitsu at the place by the mall, Master Rodrigo's."

"Has anything in particular driven you to learn, uh, jujitsu? To be honest, you're the first girl I have interviewed that is training to hit people. It may be relevant, it may not." The woman found herself babbling a little. She was far more interested in hearing about Sam's sex life, but had to continue the interview as dictated by the study.

Sam started to sound a little bored. It wasn't that she wanted to dwell on sex, but she had to answer that question frequently, to her frustration. "First off, there really isn't a lot of punching or kicking. It's more throws and holds; grappling. You hold a person until they submit, become compliant... or until you break one of their bones."

"You don't find that sexual?" She cursed herself, in her mind, for asking that.

"I have used some of what I learned in bed, if that's what you mean, but no. When I'm practicing, I don't see who I'm rolling with as a sex partner, I see them as the enemy." Some amusement was apparent in Sam's voice. "I think it would be more productive to go back to the main topic."

"We will. But, you didn't answer the initial question. Did something happen that urged you to train in martial arts?" The woman sensed that there is a gold mine here, if she dug deep enough, though she knew that it could blow up in her face if she pushed too hard.

"Natural affinity I guess. That's what Master Rodrigo says anyways." Her response was flat, and a little telling. She was unwilling to talk about it, right now at least.

"OK. The next series of questions regard specific sexual encounters. Please be as descriptive as possible when answering. If at any point you need to take a break, we will stop, and resume if and when you are ready. OK?" The woman waited for Sam to give the go-ahead, but only got a monosyllabic sound that she took as an OK. "I need you to describe the first same-sex sexual experience you've had. Be sure to include what you did, what you saw, how you felt, and if applicable, any smells or tastes you experienced."

"Are you pulling my leg with that?" Sam laughed a little. "Is that really part of the study? What it tasted like?" The woman reached out towards Sam, handing her a piece of paper, with instructions on conducting the interview. The paper included the question. "Well, damn. You have a fun job. OK."

Sam shifted her weight again. "If we do a second session, I'm picking a better motel. These chairs suck." She thinks for a moment. "It wasn't too long after my dad left the picture. I had turned six a month or so before. This was before my sister was born by about six months. Mom was pregnant but didn't know it yet. We were home alone, and the power was out. It was February, so it was dark really early. Mom had candles out all over the place, and the fireplace was going. I had already taken my bath for the evening, which was hell on my mom, cause I was afraid of the dark, and the candle light didn't reach the tub that well. She had to hold me down and scrub me; I guess that's what got her in the mood.

"Anyways, after my bath, I was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, wrapped in a towel. I didn't want to go into my dark room to get dressed, and Mom had had enough of me acting like a six year old. I was staring at the flames for a long time, and didn't notice when she kneeled down beside me. When I finally did look up at her, she didn't say anything; she just pushed me on my back, and held me down. Years of experience pleasuring my father gave me the instinct to lay back and spread my legs.

"I remember her smelling musky, something I hadn't smelled before. My dad's cock had a musky scent, but she was different. I didn't know what it was; I know now that it was her cunt. But back then, it was all new to me. She kissed me like Dad did, then she did something that Dad never did. She kissed down my belly, rather hastily, even by my six-year-old standards, and started to lick softly at my outer lips. I remember moaning, and I remember her shushing me. She licked me for a little while, stopping only to tell me to make sure I was paying attention, and I was.

"She didn't drive me to orgasm. I don't think she knew that Dad had been fucking me for a long time, and I could orgasm rather easily. I think she thought I was too young. She was wearing her bed robe by then. When she stopped, she sat down and opened her robe. She took my head in her hands and guided me to her cunt. I remember the smell. It was a mix of sweat, the smell of a wet cunt, and something floral and sweet. Her cunt had a glaze of something on it. I didn't know what it was until she pushed my mouth on it. It was sweet honey; she had put it on herself to make sure I licked her. She didn't know I would have anyways, but the sentiment was nice.

"I slowly lapped my tongue over her lips and on her groin a little. I licked where she put the honey. I remember thinking it a little odd that she didn't want me to lick the throbbing pink thing between her lips. Dad always liked his throbbing pink tip licked and sucked. But I continued to lap at my mom's cunt until all the honey was gone. She whimpered in panic a little, probably thinking I wouldn't continue, but I went right in for her clit, licking at it happily. It was sweeter than I imagined it would be. The taste wasn't the honey, but her natural flavor.

"I poked my little tongue into her cunt a few times, by accident really, but she quivered and moaned loudly when I did, so I made a point of doing it more, between sessions of passionate lapping at her clit. My hands were always at my side, this first time around. Dad had always told me exactly what he wanted, and every time we had sex, I was to do that, until he told me to do something different.

"Every few minutes, Mom's cunt would gush into my mouth, and being Daddy's little trained cocksucker, I swallowed like a good girl. I guess I was eating her out for several hours. My jaw never started to hurt like it did when I first started to suck off Dad. I don't know how many times Mom came. She never did allow me to cum, though I was used to that. Dad only let me cum when he was fucking my cunt, not my ass, mouth or hands."

Sam sighs a little, a sigh of blissful reminiscence. "That was a long time ago though, and I was young. I might be forgetting things."

The interviewer is a little short of breath. "That's... that's fine. We only need what you can remember."

Sam sniffs the air discreetly, and tries to stifle a little giggle. "Are you OK? Do you need a break?"

"Five minutes would be...a good idea." She reaches out and fumbles with the recorder, stopping it. "Can I have another one of your cigarettes?"

Sam smirked to herself. "Those are bad for you, you know." She handed the woman a cigarette, and lit it for her this time. "How many stories do you need from me?"

"Well, we are trying to catalog as much sexual experience of gay and lesbian teens as we can. I don't know what the study is trying to prove, but I do know that we need as many discreet accounts of sexual activity as we can get. Then, someone will go through and count each instance of a particular sexual act."

"It sounds like you do have the fun job of the study." Sam was just making conversation. "Do you need only same-sex stories, or is straight needed too?"

"Ideally, they want me to get a record of every time you have had any sort of sexual contact with anyone or anything, including yourself. I don't think we have time to go through every time you've masturbated though."

The headlights of the car come on again, this time the car was leaving. Sam could see the interviewer's face much more clearly this time. Her features were smooth, and her complexion was perfect. She had, at some point in the darkness, slid her panties up her thighs a few inches and had rubbed her clit rather firmly. She was not touching herself for the few seconds the lights were on, but Sam saw the intense red the woman's cunt had become with abuse.