Pop Test

Wherein a young man fails a surprise pop test and loses a penetrating opportunity.

A satirical erotic fantasy in one chapter, for adult masturbators.
by Richard Lovel – Copyright 2025 – All rights reserved

~ ~ ~

Heather glanced at Lucy, then at Robert. “And you’ve never been with a girl?” His cheeks reddened, he hesitated and shook “no”.

“Would you like to?” Lucy leaned in, her breath warm on his skin. Robert’s eyes flickered between them as he stumbled over his words. “Yes,” he whispered softly, “please.”

“That’s adorable,” Heather said with a sly smile. Robert shifted on the couch, shoulders hunched and cornered. “But how do we know you can keep up with us?” Heather’s eyes bore into him.

“What do you mean?” Robert mumbled.

“You’ve never even had an actual fuck,” Lucy said, her grin taunting him. “What if you can’t handle us?”

Robert’s face flushed. “I can handle it,” he insisted, a bit too loudly.

Heather and Lucy shared a look, leaving him feeling exposed. “Prove it. Show us you have control or it’s not worth our time.” Heather spoke deliberately, “Take our ‘pop test.'”

“A pop test?” Robert’s voice wavered. “Questions? Like in school?”

“Just one question, Robert: what makes you pop?” Heather said, her eyes locking onto his. “Show us you won’t pop at the first touch of pussy.”

Robert’s brow furrowed. “How do I show that?”

Heather laughed, a mix of amusement and threat. “Masturbate for us, but no cumming. Edge yourself while we watch. As long as we say.”

Robert blinked, astonishment etched on his face. He glanced between the two women, hoping for a joke, but none came. Lucy’s giggle adopted an almost sinister tone.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” Lucy said, winking.

Heather added in a suggestive tone, “We’ll even give you some encouragement.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” Robert hesitated, between humiliation and the thrill of their promise.

“If you can jerk it and not spunk,” Heather continued, “then we’ll reward you with what you really want, some real girl pussy. Maybe two pussies, if you’re man enough.”

Fidgeting nervously, Robert asked, “And if I can’t?”

Lucy didn’t hesitate: “Then you’re not getting any pussy tonight.”

The walls closed in, forcing him toward a decision. The women observed with anticipation. “I’ll try,” he said, uncertainty lingering in his voice. They accepted his answer, smiles widening.

“Good boy,” Heather purred.

Lucy clapped her hands in feigned excitement. “This is going to be fun,” she said, mischief glinting in her eyes.

Robert’s surroundings blurred as Heather and Lucy’s figures loomed over him. A mix of nervousness and anticipation surged within him.

Heather leaned back on the couch, arm resting lazily. “We’ll be watching very closely,” she commanded.

“Just strip off and start,” Lucy said.

With no room for doubt or hesitation, Robert took a deep breath. His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

“Okay,” he muttered, fumbling with his belt, heart racing under their watchful eyes. The overwhelming mix of humiliation and excitement coursed through him. Heather and Lucy lounged in composed authority, observing his every move.

“Now show us how you can hump that hand, like it’s one of our pussies,” Heather commanded softly. Robert swallowed hard and took himself penis in hand.

Lucy tilted her head, feigning contemplation. “I think he’s really going to do it,” she said gleefully.

His heart raced with a blend of thrill and terror. They looked at him like their personal amusement, fueled by the promise they’d made.

“Oh, he’s really ready,” Lucy giggled, nodding at his erection.

Heather gave a satisfied nod. “You remember what you have to do?” she challenged.

Robert swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. No turning back now.

“Then show us,” Heather demanded..

“Remember,” Lucy said, “if you pop too soon, your hand is all the pussy you get.”

He nodded, beginning tentatively. The sensation was intense. Their presence heightened everything, making him more sensitive to each touch.

“Don’t tease him too much,” Heather warned, smiling. “We want him to last a few minutes at least.”

Robert tried to focus on the reward if he succeeded, but their voices kept distracting him, making him aware of his vulnerability. He clenched his eyes shut, determined to maintain control.

“I don’t know,” Lucy drawled. “He looks like he’s already ready to pop.” She leaned forward, revealing a hint of cleavage. “Do you like this, Robert?” she asked with feigned innocence.

Her exposed skin and the steady rhythm of his hand made him groan, every part of him pulsating with need.

“See?” Heather’s laughter was soft yet sharp. “You’re not going to make it.”

Robert forced himself to slow down, struggling for breath as orgasm threatened menacingly close. The effort was agonizing and captivating simultaneously.

“He really does look desperate,” Lucy commented, eyes gleaming with delight.

“And cute,” Heather added. “In a pathetic sort of way.”

Robert’s body rebelled with each desperate stroke. Lucy and Heather’s eyes burned into him, their taunting words fanning the flames of his desire. His hand was a blur on his aching shaft, slick with sweat and lust.

“Just imagine how good our pussies will feel…,” Lucy purred, her words a siren’s song in his fevered mind. Robert clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as he fought to hold on.

“This is almost like fucking, isn’t it? Is this the furthest you’ve ever gone with a girl?” Heather teased, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

The question stung like a whip, fueled by the kernel of truth it carried. His face flushed crimson, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of an answer.

Lucy and Heather continued their relentless banter, their words like daggers dipped in honey: “Look at him trying so hard,” Lucy cooed. “I hope he makes it.”

Heather smirked, “But I sort of like seeing him squirm.”

Dizzy and lost in torment, Robert felt himself unraveling stitch-by-stitch under their twisted ministrations. Every fiber of his being ached for release; every cell in his body urged him to give in to the sweet oblivion they dangled before him like forbidden fruit. Yet deep down, beneath the storm raging within him, Robert vowed to prove himself—to them and to himself—no matter what price he must pay.

Robert’s legs shook. “Wait, I can—” he gasped, but the dam had broken. Heat flooded through him, pulsing and uncontrollable. He came hard, spilling, spurting his potential manhood in a hot white arc of failure.

“Uh-oh! Look at him go,” Lucy said, laughter high and bright, and he crumpled under their gaze.

His intense reaction left his chest heaving and limbs weak. This wasn’t the intended outcome.

Heather shook her head with mock disappointment. “Oh, poor boy. Couldn’t hold out after all,” she said as he shivered and collapsed.

Robert blinked up at them, skin coated in sweat and shame. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t—”

“We noticed,” Heather replied, cutting him off with a sharp smile.

Lucy couldn’t hide her amusement. “Big F on the Pop Test,” she said. “At least you get an E for effort.”

Robert’s face burned, and their smug expressions only worsened it. He’d failed, completely and utterly, and they were reveling in it.

“We should’ve bet on how fast he’d blow,” Heather laughed.

“Maybe next time,” Lucy responded. But He couldn’t imagine they would ever give him a second chance, not after this.

Overwhelmed with humiliation, he longed to disappear. But Lucy’s words gave him a glimmer of hope: “Well he really did try. Do you think we could still give him a just little pussy? Just enough to wet his tip, so he could know what it feels like?” she teased.

Heather considered. “He did try his best for us,” she said. “It’s not like he failed immediately.”

“So let’s reward him,” Lucy suggested, her grin growing. “Some consolation pussy, right?”

Robert’s heart raced with hope. Could this be possible?

“You think you can manage a pity fuck?” Heather inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He sat up quickly. “Yes,” he answered, nearly frantic. “Please. I can. I will.”

But his body betrayed him again. He was too tired and spent to respond. He was soft, flaccid, too drained and spent to respond. Panic set in as he tried to will himself back to readiness.

Heather and Lucy observed his struggle with amusement. “I don’t know,” Lucy remarked, feigning doubt. “He’s looking kind of limp to me.”

“Pathetic,” Heather concurred, her eyes shining.

Robert’s hands moved with desperation, trying to coax life back into his uncooperative member. He was slick with sweat, heart pounding, jerking his limp penis. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Oh no,” Lucy said with feigned sympathy. “I guess we were right. He just isn’t made for real pussy.”

He searched their eyes for compassion but found only amusement.

“Better get going,” Heather said, rising effortlessly. “No point in wasting time on a wanker’s limp noodle.”

Robert’s cheeks burned with shame. “Wait,” he choked out, unable to convince even himself.

“Thanks for the little show, Robert,” Lucy mocked.

“Yeah,” Heather joined in, heading toward the door. “Real impressive.”

They left him naked and demoralized, the once-promising moment evaporating as the door closed behind them.

In the aftermath, Robert struggled to breathe amidst the overwhelming embarrassment, from his spectacular downfall before them.

He realized it was a game he couldn’t win. They knew it, too. They’d left him empty, with only failure to haunt him. He sank onto the couch and wished he’d never agreed to it.

He clenched his limp penis, frustration surging with the memory of the humiliating scene. But then—unexpectedly—a pulse under his grip. It began to rise, defying its prior unresponsiveness, until it stood firm. If only this had happened minutes ago, he might have achieved a milestone today. Instead, he sighed, returning to that familiar ritual, his hand simulating the pussy just out of reach.

He pushed harder, the lingering ache fueling his intensity. Heather and Lucy’s taunting laughter echoed in his head. With each humiliating memory, pleasure intensified.

The laughter echoed in his mind, fueling a fire within him. He imagined them watching him now, their smirks and taunts as he pumped faster, the room filled with slick sounds. Face flushed and sweaty, mouthing their taunts: “wanker, limp noodle, not made for pussy”. He groaned, savoring every pathetic moment.As the euphoric release surged, he experienced an orgasm he had never felt before.

Gradually, as his breathing slowed and clarity returned, a profound realization took hold. The girls were right. He wasn’t made for real pussy. He would remain a virgin masturbator, pussy-free, for the rest of his life. And he would be better that way.

~ ~ ~ end ~ ~ ~

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Pop Test | by Richard Lovel | Copyright 2025 | All rights reserved

Posted https://onania.org/asm/pop-test-by-richard-lovel/

RL-2025-03-07