Lie Detector Sex

Can you imagine what it would feel like if your best friend asked if you wanted to watch her kiss and suck her own nipple? What would you do? Tell the truth? Or lie?

What about if you were hooked up to a lie detector test?

I guess that's how it was for Neill when I asked him if he had ever thought about watching me, which would explain why his face went bright red lol. I felt kinda bad for that, but it wasn't my fault--I'd been trying to find out how he felt about me for a while...

Like the time I "accidentally" forgot to wear panties under my sundress and made sure to bend over right in front of him to grab the USB stick when I dropped it down the back of the bed, holding the position for *way* longer than necessary, feeling the air on the bare skin between my legs...

Or the time I'd "sleepwalked" into his room one night in just a T-shirt, climbing into his blankets with him and pressing my breasts against him in the darkness, murmuring some bullshit about being cold and hoping he could feel how hard my nipples were.

Or even the time I'd sat across from him at the kitchen table eating a popsicle, wrapping my lips around it slowly, pulling it out with a wet pop, running my tongue up the sides in long, deliberate strokes while staring directly into his eyes. I'd even let the juice drip down my chin a little, a few drops falling onto my chest, using my fingers to wipe it up and sucking the sweetness off with a moan about how "messy" I was being.

But each time, Neill had remained inactive, and I wondered if it was because he didn't like me (or maybe nerdy girls with big boobs weren't his type), or if it was something more like nerves and/or politeness holding him back.

But today, I was going to find out.

***

It started pretty much as soon as I got up at his place. Neill was surrounded by empty energy drink cans and looked like he was debugging some complicated code. My plan was simply to lie on his bed and play videogames for a few hours before I went home and made dinner. But as I dropped my bag onto his floor, I spotted a new box under his desk.

"What's that?" I asked. "Not more new tech..." I said, rolling my eyes. "You're gonna bankrupt yourself with all this stuff."

"It's actually old tech," he said, grinning, clearly glad I asked. "I found it on an auction site."

"Cool," I said, grabbing the box and sliding it out from under his desk. It looked like a box filled with wires. "What is it?"

"It's a galvanic skin response monitor. Also known as a polygraph."

"Oh, no way?" I pulled a face at the mess of wires. "Like a lie detector test? Does it work?"

"Wanna find out?" he asked. "The auction listing said it did, but I haven't had anyone to try it on."

Ten minutes later, sitting in his desk chair, velcro straps around my fingers and a bunch of wires leading toward a box, he asked me some questions. My name. My age. Etc etc. Then he asked me to lie on purpose.

"Is your name Emma?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and the needle jumped, spiking into yellow territory.

"Holy shit," I laughed. "It actually caught that."

We played for a few more minutes, trying some variations on lying, half truths, etc. He asked me if I liked pineapple on pizza, asked if I thought his coding hobby was boring, asked if I really did think his Lego collection was cool (I do!). But it was getting boring, and I knew he'd never dare ask the kind of questions that would make it exciting.

"Let's switch. Let me ask you some stuff."

"Hmmm..."

"Don't be lame, dude," I said, starting to unhook myself. "It'll be fun."

***

Five minutes later, our roles were switched. He took my place in the chair, and I took the sensors, wrapping them around his fingers. His hands were trembling a bit, and I could feel the pulse in his wrist. I asked him the baseline questions and he answered them accordingly. I could see him relaxing, trusting the process. Which is when I decided to see how far I could push him.

"Okay," I said. "You ready?"

"What for?" he said.

I took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought about me like... sexually?"

The needle jumped so hard it nearly went off the chart. "What do you mean!?"

"Holy shit," I breathed, grinning at him. I leaned against the desk, crossing my arms under my chest. I knew what I was doing. I'd been blessed--or cursed--with a body that drew attention. My breasts bulged slightly in my low-cut top, and I saw Neill's eyes flicker down before he forced them back up to my face. "You have, haven't you?"

"I... that's not..." he stammered, looking at the needles, then at me, then the wall. "That's not a fair question."

"That's a yes," I said, feeling a thrill run through me. "What about when you... you know... jerked off? Have you ever thought of me then?"

"Sarah! Come on! I don't want to--"

"Hey!" I said. "Play fair! You said you'd answer my questions! I want to know..."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Yes. Maybe."

The needle on the machine confirmed he was telling the truth, and I felt my heartbeat get a little quicker. It was thrilling to know that he had at least thought about me in that way a few times, and I wondered if those bikini pictures I'd sent him were what had inspired it.

"When you do it..." I took a little breath, lowering my volume slightly. "Do you think about these?" I cupped my own breasts through my top, grabbing them and squeezing, making them bulge through my fingers. It felt weird to be holding my boobs in front of him like this, but the needle jumped again, and he made a small, strangled sound. I felt my nipples harden against my palms, pressing through my bra.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Would you want to watch me kiss and suck on my own nipple? I can do that, you know..."

The needle went wild again, scratching deep into the yellow zone. I knew I had him then. His brain was short-circuiting with the image I'd just planted there--me wrapping lips around myself for him.

I reached for the hem of my shirt and he swallowed. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking alarmed.

"Nothing," I said, acting dumb. "What do you mean? Just getting comfortable." I paused for a beat and then feigned sudden understanding. "Oh! Did you think I was going to actually...?"

"No," he said.

The needle jumped.

"Liar!" I grinned. "Let's try another one..."

"Sarah..." he said, his voice reproachful. But I noted that he made no effort to get up out of the chair. It's not like he was strapped in or anything. All he needed to do was remove a couple of loops and velcro, but no. He remained where he was.

"Hmm, I think I still have some questions. What about..." I looked around his room for inspiration. "What about if I asked you to be a seat for my pussy." Just saying the word pussy in front of him made my heart skip another beat. "Like... if I wanted to make your face my seat for the rest of the evening. Would you do it?"

I imagined it--imagined lowering myself onto his face, feeling his tongue against me. I'd always been proud of my pussy, kept it waxed and soft, and the thought of him worshipping it, of this sweet tech geek drowning in my juices while I rode his face, made my knees weak.

I wondered if his cock was hard, and then realised that I didn't have to wonder at all.

I got down on my knees in front of him and asked the next question...