The Squirting Experiment

Like every morning, I sat at my vanity, combing my hair and swaying along to the twentieth century's classic jazz greats. It was Tuesday. That meant a day full of boudoir photography. What started as a hobby collecting cameras blossomed into a full-blown career, and I felt incredibly lucky to be in that position.
Years ago, my clientele was largely made up of married women of varying ages. In front of my camera, the nervous person, whose hand I shook just moments before, sat with her chest proud and confident. I had a list of favorite poses to recommend, most highlighting commonly craved assets: arched back to highlight breasts and the curve of the spine, sitting back on knees and resting the ass on the heels, or naked lying on the back, suggestively placing the hand just inches into lingerie waistbands. They all beamed as they stared into the lens, imagining the look of shock and invigoration on their husbands and wives' faces when they revealed their secret project. I thought of it as vintage romance. In the days of easily shared nude images, the planned photoshoot felt like sending a letter through the mail. There was delayed gratification in which one side had no clue they were participants. Whenever I received a positive review on my website, I chuckled to myself, knowing that my client had probably just spent a long, dirty night with her partner before waking up and telling me the images were much appreciated.
Recently, a different batch of people began emailing me with requests. Gorgeous, industrious young men and women with personal NSFW production businesses inquired about my photo and video abilities. They wanted a professional touch to their content, all post-production included. They were making ungodly amounts of money and knew quality was the way to keep an audience, perhaps gain some professional modeling work.
It wasn't always in my studio. Many models preferred their own bedrooms as a backdrop. Some created exhibitionist content, having me follow them around the city as they cheekily flashed my camera when fewer people could potentially see. Eventually, some of them hired me for video shoots, solo and with other partners. Through this, I realized I had developed quite the voyeuristic streak, the inevitable counterpart to a group of people who thrived on showing themselves to eager spectators. I became friends with all of them after repeated work. They were a rowdy, lively, and brilliant group of people, always bringing a story of new adventure to my attention. Pleasure seekers. Adrenaline addicts. They possessed traits I could never dream to have naturally. Every moment with them was an experience not easily forgotten.
My friends were very dedicated to staying vigilant when it comes to noteworthy news events. As usual, my phone buzzed repeatedly as my friends riffed in the group chat. I only caught notification previews as I got ready, but my interest was piqued at the sight of the words "squirting", "pee", and "experiment." What were they getting into this time? I wasn't the biggest fan of shooting piss, so I was hoping this wasn't them considering a new commission with a paycheck I'd be inclined to accept.
Luckily for my limits, when I finally opened the messages, I saw they were discussing a new scientific study related to the organic makeup of female ejaculation. Apparently, the findings revealed it might be a little bit of piss, but other substances as well. The science was lost on me and most of my other friends, but the conversation quickly devolved into other related topics: abilities to squirt, amounts they had squirted, what techniques were required to bring them to that point.
One friend said she never failed to squirt when she sat upright, leading to long nights of her boyfriend happily going down on her. Another sang the praises of vibrators with g-spot attachments that tickled every sensitive place at once. I said I loved the future of technology, and they all agreed. The newest addition to the group piped up after a short hiatus in the chat, declaring that she would love to participate in a study where a scientist watched as she masturbated to completion. She added to the fantasy, swooning over the idea of that scientist breaking all codes of conduct and sticking their fingers inside of her while otherwise maintaining a calm, professional demeanor. That received a flood of encouragement from the collective, agreeing that it was a less taboo version of the "doctor/patient" fantasy. They lamented that they hadn't been invited to the study, wondering if there would need to be some follow-up trials in the future.
The alarm on my phone chimed, reminding me of the coffee meeting I had scheduled with an editor, Ethan, from a popular magazine. He had seen my website, scoped my portfolio, and was interested in hiring me to photograph a feature on the world of professional dominatrixes. I jumped at the opportunity, already a fan of his work and a long-time follower on social media. It was something of a dream for me to collaborate with him, and his petite, slightly elfish features Kadıköy Escort were a lucky bonus in my desperately male-attention-starved mind. My stomach floated into my chest on my walk to the coffee shop as if I was approaching a first date.
Before entering the shop, I paused to absorb the chilly autumn wind and collect my thoughts. I promised myself at that moment that I would be visibly confident, control my shaking breath, and project a smooth aura that would be impossible to gel with. He waved at me through the door, and I took my final breath of courage.
He waited at the café table with a small journal and pen laid out in front of him, looking approachable in a thick sweater layer over a flannel shirt. I felt slightly overdressed, having selected a bodycon wrap dress that hugged every asset I'd want to highlight. Remembering my assigned mantra, I held my chest high as I strutted over to him, taking every step as if there was a camera pointed at me at the end of the path.
Graciously, he rose from his chair to shake my hand, holding my hand for what felt like longer than the usual convention.
"Nice to finally meet you in person, Rosa."
"You too. Thanks for picking such a convenient place for us to talk."
"Oh, no problem-our office is right down the street, actually. Looks like fate is on our side, huh?"
I smirked and draped my coat over the chair, followed by Ethan's gentlemanly gesture of pulling out my seat. The "first date" anxiety covered me once again, and I had to fight valiantly against it. But how could I when his eyes were so vibrantly green and full of emotion? He had a face that seemed destined to be looked at, maybe kissed. I had to stop considering the roots of the thought pattern before it grew roots to more uncontrollable impulses.
We placed our orders and received them, the time between events seeming shorter due to the obvious chemistry between us. On multiple occasions, I caught a growing blush spreading over his cheeks, just after a small bit of work talk. He didn't usually do stories like this, he revealed, normally covering different lifestyle topics. But times were changing at the magazine; the higher-ups wanted more provocative things, sexual subcultures and the like. They all had a wild sense of humor, agreeing to assign the shyest, more sexually repressed colleague to take on the first attempt in the series.
"If I can be candid, and hopefully this isn't overstepping, I have to admit that I haven't had sex in about a year since my ex-girlfriend and I broke up. So, I think they're fucking with me here...because no one else is fucking me...Good Lord, sorry. Clearly, they've gotten in my head."
I gave him a compassionate look, possibly verging on patronizing. There was no period of time in my adult sex life where I had gone more than a couple weeks without sex. I viewed it as an essential aspect of my personal happiness, and the constant chorus of sexual voices surrounding me did no favors in promoting the values of abstinence. One year? I would've burned out several vibrating toys by then, defeatedly accepting the possible reality of extended involuntary chastity.
"Ouch, that's rough. Seems a little mean. You should be able to go at your own pace. I don't think I could survive that though. I'm a little too motivated in that regard."
Sipping his drink slowly, he digested every word of mine and paused cautiously before responding.
"It's a shame I didn't meet you on one of your conquests then. I feel like I've already crossed a few lines here. If I leave here without actually discussing the project I'm going to be hurting bad when I get asked how it went later."
I knew I shared the same sentiment. Had I caught his eye in a crowded bar, I would've found my way over to him immediately. At the moment, I wasn't thinking about dommes anymore. My thoughts wandered to my earlier conversation.
"Well, before we get to that, I am really itching to talk about a recent news article my friends and I were discussing right before I got over here."
"Oh yeah? Hit me."
He opened up his notebook, eagerly waiting for me to continue.
"So, you know I also shoot people's nude pictures and stuff sometimes, right? Like, not just boudoir."
"Mhm."
"They did some experiment where a few women squirted for science."
His pen moved faster without his eyes breaking contact with me, robotically scribbling to accurately frame all this to his future self. I could tell he was slightly flustered, but playing it cool like I was. I took a second to wipe my lips, drawing out the moment. He stopped writing and looked at me.
"So, how did they run the experiment?"
I giggled devilishly.
"Hah, a little eager? I mean, I get it. I was pretty interested when I saw the texts earlier too. Not something you expect as you're just starting to face the day."
Ethan dropped the pen onto the table and picked at his cuticles. I wondered if my flirtation had been misinterpreted as genuine shaming. Maybe he would understand Kadıköy Escort Bayan more about this later once we actually got back on task. Until then, all I had was a sweet smile to follow my words.
He cleared his throat and collected himself.
"Listen, I'm good at my job. You know this. I like to know all the filthy bits other people wouldn't want to investigate."
"I understand, I understand."
I fetched my phone and opened the group chat, finally seeing a dozen messages from my friends that excitedly wished me horny blessings before my meeting with Ethan. I scrolled away quickly, trying to force myself to stay in the curated frame of mind I was slowly losing. Starting at the top, I paraphrased all the expository messages for him.
"So, the goal of the experiment was to shed more light on what the chemical makeup of female ejaculate is, or, you know, squirting. I think there were, like, five women who had their bladders emptied so that the scientists could see just how much of it is piss, or something else. There's different glands and stuff that both sexes have. So anyway, the women all had to either make themselves squirt, or involve their partners, who weren't allowed to ejaculate themselves. Can't spoil the sample, obviously."
Ethan's pen moved quickly as his body began to naturally lean forward, getting closer to me as my voice got quieter. I had become aware of fellow patrons' listening. I understood; it would've been incredibly hypocritical of myself to pretend I didn't relate to the voyeur. I had done much worse.
"What were the results?"
"Well, like everything in science, it was a little bit of column A, little bit of column B. When you think about all the shared characteristics of all reproductive anatomy, it makes sense, right? Turns out squirt is a little bit cum and a little bit piss, who knew!"
He laughed, recording my explanation quickly in the notebook. I could tell he was starting to sweat a little bit, tugging at his sweater and pulling it above his elbows. His forearms were covered in a speckling of beauty marks and freckles under light hair. I tried hard not to reach out and run my hands up his arms. They looked soft and inviting, just like his tone when he spoke next.
"Hmm, interesting. I guess I didn't have any feelings about that before, still don't. I don't really care what's in it; I just think it's hot."
His eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at me as if I was the one who had just said something scandalous. No, shy little Ethan was stumbling into flirtation with me. I chose to push him harder, pull him off his path more into my lewd trap.
"I agree. My friends did, too. They were all quite jealous they didn't get to participate in an experiment like that."
That comment changed his posture, sitting up a little straighter and smirking at me.
"By 'friends', do you mean your model clients?"
"Sure do. All of them basically said that if the opportunity ever arose, they'd do it immediately. After considering it a little further myself, I think I'm beginning to see the appeal."
I received a nervous chuckle, and Ethan played with his hair more. There was a beat before he found enough air again to respond.
"The appeal...of squirting, or...the experiment part?"
"Hm. A little bit of column A, little bit of column B?"
"Hah, nice one. Well, um, I mean I know you said they were either by themselves or with their partner, but what if there was one guy there who had to go around and do it for all the women? How many did you say there were again?"
My eyes widened, and I slapped my hands down on my thighs.
"No way! That's exactly what my friends said. You have a dirty mind just like them. I think there were five, by the way."
The blush on his face was bright red at this point. I almost felt bad for how nervous he was, repeatedly running his tongue over his lips, biting them, picking at his hands. All nervous tics, unspent energy, getting wound up from me.
I continued.
"Would you ever want to do something like that? Be the guy who comes in and makes all the ladies cum?"
His expression was pure shock, mouth slightly open with a furrowed forehead.
"I...uh...well, I guess that would be quite the story."
Finally giving into my urge, I reached forward, rubbing his arms gently to reassure him. I smiled, feeling the light goosebumps detailing his skin, only imagining what was happening in his pants underneath the table.
I didn't care about the magazine stuff. All I could think about was exploring the shared thought of a group orgasm session. I knew my friends would be completely down to do such a thing if it actually materialized, but Ethan? I wasn't completely sure just how big of a calculated risk I'd be taking. I had to trust my long-nurtured ability to read a situation, go by my gut. What my gut told me was that Ethan was a man who hadn't had sex in a long time and would theoretically be asked to finger, lick, and fuck several attractive women. But Escort Kadıköy perhaps I was being extremely presumptuous. What this suggestion boiled down to was a porno shoot, but with no camera. I didn't want to hide and watch. I wanted to participate in the fun.
Fuck it. Trust the gut.
"I'm being serious. If I were to ask you today, if I had all of the women willing and ready to do this, would you? We could walk to my studio and they'd all be there in around an hour. "
By my tone, he knew there was no sarcasm or play in my voice at all. I watched him swallow multiple times, look around with paranoia, then slowly pick up his phone from the table. He opened up the thread of messages between his coworkers.
"If you're serious, I'm serious, then." His voice cracked a bit, but he continued bravely. "I'll text everyone and say the meeting is running late because I wanted to scope out the studio."
"Okay then! I'll send a message to everyone in the chat now."
My fingers never moved faster.
Rosa
hey, pals: remember earlier? i think i found you guys a scientist.
Demi
EXCUSE ME???
Zo
lol wymmmm
Rosa
can anyone make it to my studio in the next hour? no photos this time. i'm going to join in for once. i need four gals to cum with me.
Demi
like?? do a squirting thing? all of us? groupppp omg yes I'll be there
Zo
me too...lmao rosa you're being slutty for once with us i'm living for ittttt
Zo
also I think @Amara and @Emily would be down to do this today too...what do we think
Amara
im like already in the area LMAO i was gonna go grocery shopping but nvm yes count me in
Amara
@Emily literally please respond. we need the same number of participants as the experiment
Emily
omg you guys hahaha
Emily
um duh, @Rosa can I take some selfies and stuff with your backdrops before
Rosa
no. i think you're gonna want to do it after. this has gotta be an organized front if it's going to function properly.
Demi
oh wow, rosa's all scientific with this shit. so is Amara tbh y'all are doing a lot right now
Amara
LOL w/e you were the one who jumped in so fast when this came up. it's okay to be excited babe
Rosa
i'm gonna go wrap up the ethan thing. btw surprise he's the guy! see you soon.
I put my phone down before I could see any of their responses, but the vibrations practically pushed it to the floor.
When I had showed Ethan to the group, a few of them had gone on to find his other social media accounts, screenshotting photos and sharing them to collectively agree he was hot. I knew their excitement was genuine, and despite their cool attitudes, I knew they were all feeling warm suddenly, letting eagerness build up in their bodies. I had never shared a man before, but Ethan was not "my" man at all, not a boyfriend, not even a lover. He was a business professional, someone I would work with. I had no ownership over him, so it was easy to distribute the wealth among my closest confidants. In a strange way, this was business for all of us, somehow all just grazing the surface of the sex industry in different ways. I would have him to myself for a small window of time before they all arrived, and I planned to make it count.
"Well, Ethan, I have some interesting news for you. My friends have spoken once again, and four of them want to come join us at the studio to perform this experiment. Their names are Demi, Zo, Amara, and Emily. They're all real nice gals who are very pretty, and quite frankly, feel the same way about you. Amara, in particular, has specifically used the word 'pretty' to describe you before. I'd agree."
He gripped his phone and clearly made quite a few typos as he declared his tardiness to his colleagues. His hands shook a little, and I knew it was not just from the amount of caffeine in our drinks.
"Okay...bring me to your studio then...Please."
~
My studio was made for intimate moments. A friend had inherited amazing converted factory lofts and rented out an entire floor of the complex to me. I had total freedom to change the layout, design, and furniture. With that freedom, I had installed both studio and mood lighting, casting a light purple shadow over most of the space. After much searching, I found several lovely lounge chairs, all placed in front of different backdrops. With all the natural light, the loft always offered the familiar sense of home, perfect for all types of shoots. The models also loved the greenery I tended, large plants with sprawling leaves and bright vegetation that filled the air with life. It was a happy place for all of us.
I had to close the blinds on the windows once Ethan and I arrived at the loft. He slowly walked around, marveling at the decor, making quick comments about certain art on the wall, or a particularly interesting fur rug. I instructed him to start moving the lounge chairs into the center of the room, pushing them a few inches next to each other, horizontally lined up.