The Science of Orgasm

That was comforting, but not helpful. There was so much I wanted to know, and it would probably be years before I could learn enough to be able to make even educated guesses about what was happening to me. Apparently all I could do at the moment was to observe and record. It would be some time before I was qualified to form a hypothesis and I would need one before I could undertake any formal experiments. I looked at Bambi, wondering if I should even bring up the subject of me going to college. I knew that Dad and Yvette hadn't managed to save enough to put me through anything other than the local two-year technical college and when Dad left. That would have been just enough to get me a job in one of the trades, or maybe just an entry-level secretarial position. When Dad left, my chances of getting a university degree pretty much vanished too.

"I don't need telepathy to read your mind, now," she said. "You're wondering how long it will be before you know enough. The answer is 'never'. There is always something else to find out. At least that's what Ben always said. It's probably why he kept running off on those expeditions — to find out things he didn't know."

"He sounds like a really smart man," I said. "Actually, I was wondering if I should apply for a scholarship. My grades have been really good lately. Maybe I could talk one of my teachers into putting me up for one."

"I think we can get you accepted at the local institute of higher learning. Scholarship or not."

"Hunh?"

Bambi chuckled, "If they won't take you, I'll ask them to return the new science building Ben gave them."

"Oh." That put a different spin on things. "No scholarship?"

"You won't need one. I'll send you anywhere you want. I can probably use Ben's 'good old boy' network to get you accepted most anywhere. If that fails, I'll buy someone another new building. But I'd rather you started off here for the first two years. That will give you a chance to fully develop your talents and abilities in a more supportive environment. Damn, I'm starting to talk like you!"

"Neeka says the same thing. I'm contagious."

"Well, it's probably not a fatal disease, but I'll have to watch it. I never went to college. I was just a little local girl who happened to meet and marry a future tycoon right out of high school. Most of my higher education was from talking with Ben. He was always running down one lead after another for a new plant or a new chemical or something that he could synthesize and market. He had research labs all over the world and he loved to explain all the projects to me when he was home. I didn't understand most of it, of course, but I learned enough to be impressed in the right places."

I had moved into a big fancy house on a hill that had to have been put together with bulldozers and earthmovers. We frequently ate at the best places in town. I was building a wardrobe of custom-made clothes. But I still couldn't think of myself as one of the 'rich people'. It occurred to me to ask just how much money Mrs. Reynolds had, just for informational purposes, but that seemed terribly rude and I immediately shoved the thought away and swore never to bring the subject up. I tried to steer the conversation back on course.

"My mind goes so fast that I run out of knowledge before I run out of logic." I said. "It's like crashing into a brick wall, over and over. Maybe that's why I have such a strong sex drive. The chemicals released during orgasm seem to have a calming effect, but they wear off quickly and I have to cum again and again to keep the frustration at bay."

"So you think you're addicted to sex?"

"Yah."

"You're not alone. Lots of people — lots of women have the same problem. Me, for example."

"Ah! How very interesting, Mrs. Reynolds. Would you like to participate in an experiment to determine just how much sex is required to achieve the optimum level of pacification?"

"Why yes, Dr. Kramer. I think I would be willing to make that sacrifice in the interest of the advancement of science."

"Then come with me up to my laboratory and we'll see just how much it takes to fuck our brains out."

As it turned out, not very much at all. At least for me. We had gone up to Bambi's room, which was one floor below mine. The selection of toys was better there, and her big whirlpool bath was almost as large and as relaxing as the hot tub on the roof.

We explored the increase in sensitivity in my enlarged nipples and compared it to the other available sample. We experimented with the relative degrees of pleasure to be obtained from various sizes and types of toys and we drew corollaries between the amount of energy expended and the number of climaxes that resulted.

The conclusion we came to was that an orgasm was a potent antidote for stress and worry. The bigger the orgasm, the more stress was relieved. The more orgasms, the longer the effect lasted. I realize that these findings are hardly new, but every so often you need to re-verify certain assumptions. It's just good science.

We also established that the greater the number of nerve-endings a part of the body has, the more sensitive that part will become, and the more susceptible to erotic stimulation it will be. I learned this when I had my second orgasm just from Bambi licking my nipples. Along the way, I also learned that when you have larger areolas and bigger nipples, when they crinkle up, get stiff, or puff up, the feeling can be really intense. This means that when your boobs are stimulated, the result of the stimulation becomes more stimulation and things can quickly escalate from there. I wondered if I hadn't overdone it just a smidge. It felt like my nipples were now as sensitive as my clit when they were stiff, and they got stiff much more easily.