by Marco Vassi
TWO
THE ROOM WAS indistinguishable from any you might find in a modern motel. I was somewhat worried about clothing, but the closet held a number of shirts and pants and jackets of various sizes. I felt as though I were entering a monastery, ready to throw off all vestiges of my old life, and I decided on the spot not even to go back to tie up loose ends on the "outside".
Susan showed me around and then left. I undressed, showered, and settled down for a good night's sleep. On the table next to the bed was a small pamphlet which seemed be privately published. The cover bore the simple inscription: ISM. I flipped it open at random, and found it to be a dense philosophical polemic on the nature of reality and illusion, and the role of sex in man's attainment of cosmic consciousness. It had illustrations from some ancient Tibetan tracts on Tantrie Yoga. I was in the middle of deciding whether I should go seek other reading material, when I heard a light knock at the door.
"Come in," I yelled, expecting Tocco or Susan. The door swung open and there stood a perfectly beautiful young girl of about nineteen. She was quite thin, with almost nonexistent breasts, narrow hips, and a boyish cast to her posture. Her hair was long to her waist and a shimmering golden brown. She had eyes like almonds, and a wide, full mouth. She wore a totally transparent negligee, and the dark of her nipples and pubic hair were like shadows at the bottom of a fish pond. She shifted one leg, and I saw she had that rare quality in a woman's body where the thighs do not join snugly at the crotch, but rise like pillars into the torso and leave a space between them of several inches. That yawning gap, hanging like a stone bridge across a chasm, was her cunt, made by nature to be wide and open and accessible.
"Come in," I said again, more quietly this time. She smiled and her face was total mockery. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" she taunted. I looked again and ran my tongue over my lips. "More than you can imagine," I said.
"Well, let's leave imagination out of it. What are you willing to do?"
For a moment I missed the intent of her words, and then I remembered what the scene was in the building. This must be some sort of test, I thought. Deliberately, and without removing my eyes from hers, I threw back the covers on the bed and exposed my body. I reached down with my right hand and grabbed my cock. Slowly, languorously, I began stroking it. It stirred gently, and then began to get hard. I pulled on it more purposefully, and it came to its full length and width. I looked down at the hard tool, and then back at her. "It's not what I am willing to do to let you in, but what are you willing to do for me to allow you in." She turned sideways and made as if to go, but stopped, and looked down and back over her shoulder. I followed the line of sight and beheld perhaps the most perfectly-formed ass I had ever seen in my life. It lay in perfect proportion to the rest of her body, and then was just a little larger than scale. The buttocks broke right at the tops of her thighs and rounded out in full globes. A deep, rich cleft offered an eternity of exploration. She arched her back, and her ass rose high and away, inviting, opening. Simultaneously she ran her tongue over her lips and brought one hand down between her legs. With great delicacy she put one finger into her cunt, bringing the material of her gown with it.
Clearly she had more ammunition than I did for this war of the nerves, but I had more muscle. I got out of bed, walked slowly over to her, and before she could react, grabbed her and swung her up over my shoulders. She started to kick and protest, but I threw her ungracefully down on the bed and landed on top of her. We wrestled furiously. Her anger was genuine, and matched my lust.
Gradually my weight began to wear her down, and in a few moments she lay exhausted and panting under me. Holding both her wrists together with one hand, I reached down and ripped the negligee off. She was even more breathtaking up close. Her skin was dimensional; to touch her lightly was to sink into a pool of sensations. I relaxed and just drank it all in. The breasts lay flattened against her rib cage, and from the waist up she might have been a boy. The thought inflamed me and for a moment I felt a spark fly from her mind to mine. Without thinking I reached forward and took one nipple in my mouth. The effect was electrifying. All her bravado melted away instantaneously and she twisted her torso up to force the nipple deeper into my mouth. I cupped her breast and bunched it together, making it seem larger than it was, and then took the entire thing in my mouth as though it were a small peach. Gently I dug my teeth into her and lapped with my tongue at the warm flesh which filled my mouth. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head down, forcing me to go even more deeply into her.
We stayed locked like that for a long moment, and then I pulled back. At the same time she let go, and we lay for a while unmoving, my head on her chest, listening to the pounding of her heart. In a while there was within us both some kind of stirring. And once again I began to move, but now I went toward her mouth. She reached for me greedily, and before my lips reached hers she began licking my mouth and face. Her tongue was sensitive and quick, and I closed my eyes and let it roam over my eyes and forehead and cheeks. Finally she reached around and inserted the tip of her tongue into my ear, something which is like pushing the red alert inside me. I moved on reflex and reached down to plant my hand square between her thighs in the space between cunt and asshole. I grabbed her hard and perhaps hurt her a little bit, but she moaned and fell back writhing. I moved down and sat directly between her legs. I pushed her thighs apart and looked long and lovingly at the already wet cunt before me.
It was a heartbreakingly beautiful picture. Dark matted hair, red-violet lips, white flesh, and dark folds underneath where the buttocks met. And the entire thing resting on a firm globular ass, the curves of which peeked out from under as she lay there. To make it even more heady, the pungent aroma of cunt was already beginning to fill the air.
I reached forward with both hands and parted the outer lips. The inner lips were still stuck together, pink and closed, and gently I ran my finger down between them until they too fell open. She responded with a deep, ecstatic sigh and I saw a shudder of acceptance go through her entire body. I leaned forward and peered at the very heart of her cunt, at the rosebud opening which lay buried under all the protective layers. I inserted my middle finger and was immediately plunged into a different world, a world where variations in heat and texture were the only language. My feelings varied between the clinical and the poetic. At one point I was touching and identifying all the anatomical parts, and suddenly I was only deep in wet, pulsating cunt, with an exquisite young woman reacting to my every touch with silent implorings to have me do more.
I reached the cervix and touched the very entrance to the womb. She gasped and I pulled out my finger, only to insert my hand. I put all four fingers from thumb to ring finger into the cunt opening. At first she resisted, but I moved in without hurting her, and soon I was in her as far as anatomy would allow. I let my hand loose and just walked and stroked and pinched every inch of her now-stretched cunt. She reached down and, kicking up her legs, grabbed her ankles so that she was completely split apart, totally exposed. The juices were running very freely and dribbling down between her buttocks. I twisted my hand enough to allow me to put my pinky into her asshole, now lubricated by her own secretions. All the barriers broke at once, and I found myself in a frenzy of movement, pushing and pulling and twisting and pummeling her cunt and ass, not knowing whether I was hurting her or giving her pleasure, and hearing from a distance her cries of desire, screaming for more and more, until the spasms began deep in her cunt and moved down into her belly, and she rocked and came and came.
She fell back, eyes closed, and didn't move. I slowly pulled my hand out of her, and looked at the thin wild body now lying so still. For an instant she seemed dead, and the thought excited me beyond my expectations. That was one trip it seemed I would never enjoy. But she was alive, and I could pretend she was dead. Thus have my cake and talk to it too. I moved up and stretched myself out over her. "Don't move," I said. "I want you to lie perfectly still. Don't make a sound. I'm going to shove
my cock into you, and fuck you until I come. And you're going to lie there and take it. I don't care whether you like it or not. I'm not interested in anything except your cunt right now."
I lowered myself onto her and felt my cock immediately sink into the sticky hot pussy. It was as paradisical as I expected. The natural space between her thighs made her cunt like a snug harbor. There was nothing between me and total penetration. I pushed all the way in, and then out. I moved the tip of my cock around the fringes of the outer lips. I teased at the cunt hole, and then rammed violently in. I moved from side to side, came in at a dozen different angles. And only when I got in from above, rubbing her clitoris with the shaft of my cock as the head penetrated her, did she move. It was an involuntary spasm, but that tiny response was more exciting than most of the thrashing around that is usually done. I kept riding her high until the tension mounted past her ability to control, and she opened her legs wider, pulled her knees up to her chest, and exposed the deepest part of her box. I drove all the way in, to that spot where the symbolic virginity perpetually lies, and rode home until the hot sperm spilled out of me and splashed against the walls of the inside of her body.
Unexpectedly, as I lay in her arms, I fell into a peaceful sleep, and when I woke up a half hour later, we were in exactly the same position. My cock was still inside her. I roused myself and stretched my cramped limbs a bit, and she stirred too. We gingerly disengaged our bodies and sat up.
I looked at her for a long time. She seemed even younger now. "What's your name?" I asked. "Anita," she said. There didn't seem to be too much else to say.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked. I lit a cigarette. "Yes, and you?"
"I've been here . . . quite a while."
There was something very odd about the way she spoke, as though she weren't really interested in herself or in me or anything. "When did you come here?" I asked. "What brought you?"
She laughed nervously. "The stork brought me."
"No, really," I implored.
"It's true," she said. "I was born here. Doctor Tocco is my father."
My eyes bugged out. "Your father! And you mean he lets you ... I mean ... do you ... I..." I trailed off.
"It's all right," she said, "sex isn't a bad thing. And I like it. But . . ."
"But what?"
She drew in a long soulful breath. "It gets kind of boring after a while, doesn't it?"
"Well," I said, getting polemical, "that's the purpose of the research here, isn't it? To solve the problem of boredom? Besides, you didn't seem bored a half hour ago."
She grew very sad. "No, it's always exciting the first time with someone. But I want to be able to stay with somebody. I want to get married and have children. I want a man that I can love all the time."
Poor Tocco, I thought. Here he is with the world's most far-out sexual scene going, and his daughter wants to go live in a house with a white picket fence, cooking and fucking for a nine-to-fiver, when she could have the pick of any kind of relationship she wanted.
I felt kind of sorry for her, even though I didn't begin to understand the complexities of the situation, and had no desire to go into them. It all seemed too much like a Gothic soap-opera. To be polite I asked, "Well, why don't you leave?"
She looked at me and my scalp tingled as I got a precognition flash on what she was going to say before the words were out of her mouth. "I can't," she answered. "He won't let me out."
"You must be joking," I said.
"You too," she responded. "You can't get out either."
I looked wildly around the room. Of course, that was the odd thing that had bothered me without my being able to put a finger on it. There was no window. And the building was soundproofed. I started to get up but she put an arm on my shoulder. "Believe me," she said flatly, "you can't." And I believed her, for her tone was that of someone who is telling an unpleasant but necessary truth.
What kind of man is Tocco? I wondered. But my thought was distracted by a sensation, and I focussed in to see Anita leaning over and swishing her long silken hair over my thighs. Slowly she lowered her head further and further until her hair lay like a sand-pile on my legs, and then I felt her warm, lush mouth cover my genitals entirely. And as her tongue began lapping at the base of my cock, the erection began to grow and throb with anticipation.
I lay back and let her suck me off while I pondered my strange situation. Perhaps Tocco.was a madman, but there was nothing to do about it now. If I were to be shot in the morning, I might as well enjoy the night. And I turned all my attention to the beautiful face which seemed to be staring with such intensity at my pubic hair as the mouth moved in easy glides up and down the shaft of my prick.
THREE
THE FOLLOWING morning brought anxiety. After Anita left I lay in bed for a while, and then prowled the corridor. The door to the downstairs was solid oak and bolted shut. The other rooms on the floor were similar to mine, but I only got a dim impression of their contents, since the light switches weren't functional. Some seemed to be outfitted with leather couches, mirrors and videotape equipment; others were either totally bare or covered from wall to wall with mattresses; one looked like a miniaturized laboratory. At one point a door opened and Susan came out into the hall. Her hair was dishevelled and her nightgown was obviously just thrown on in haste. I sensed that there was someone in her room, and for an instant I felt a totally irrational pang of jealousy and possessiveness. She looked at me oddly, then said, "I heard doors opening and closing."
I tried my best cheerful manner. "Just looking around," I said. I edged toward her door, feeling slightly malicious. "Uh, is it too late for us to have a drink and talk?"
She fixed me with a long hard stare. "Don't play games, Michael. I am in the first stages of fucking someone, and your knocking around out here has interrupted it, and I don't feel like a threesome tonight." I smiled, and it felt like a mule shitting briars. "No need to get touchy, Susan." She shook her hair out. "I'm always annoyed when men are coy." And with that she went back inside and slammed the door shut.
I stood around foolishly for a while, and then decided that there was nothing I could do about anything, and went to bed where I began counting backwards from a million until I fell asleep. When I woke up there was not the slightest indication of what time it was, but my internal clock told me it must be around ten. I began going through my catatonic dialogue, in which the intellect attempts to convince the body that there is a valid reason for getting up, and the body lies there knowing full well that the notion of activity is a prejudice best done away with. This morning the conversation became unusually dull, the body was about to win by filibuster, and I began dozing back off to sleep.
Suddenly the door burst open. I sat up and saw an eerie sight. It was Tocco, dressed in spangled Bermuda shorts, flanked by two absolutely beautiful men. One was tall, black, and deeply-muscled, while the other was pale white, thin, and soft as a deer. Behind them came Susan, dressed as a nurse, carrying a tray of vials, syringes, vaporizers, and small bottles. They sailed in majestically.
Tocco was his usual exuberant self. "If you are at all normal, Michael," he began, "you are now in a state of anxiety and suspicion. You are convinced that I am a madman who has locked you in to wreak strange tortures upon you. And in one sense, that interpretation is entirely correct. You may feel your mind slipping. And that is just as it should be. Our intention this morning is, in fact, to give it a little push. Your worst habit is this constant effort to rationalize things, to figure them out. As though the universe made sense! A preposterous preoccupation."
I started to protest that I hadn't even told him why I had come to ISM, but my efforts were brushed aside. The four of them surrounded the bed, and I twisted my head frantically, trying to read some kind of intent in their eyes. The two strange men, at a signal from Tocco, took off their clothes and came to sit on either side of me on the bed. I realized that I could, at any moment, jump up and be free, but morbid curiosity riveted me
to the spot. A kind of powerlessness overcame me, and although I knew that I had control, pretending to lose that control sent a thrill of sexual undercurrent through my body.
"Lie back, Michael," Tocco said. "You are still half asleep, still in dreams. Not only this morning, but through your entire life. You get through your days and you have flashes of insight, but you are not yet able to perceive things as they are. Now, outside this building, the sun is shining, and civilization is making its rounds, but here we have cancelled time; the only time which exists is the rise and fall of desire." I closed my eyes and the words washed over me like waves. "Here, there is only desire . . . overwhelming, blind, endless, insatiable desire. And you are its manifestation, its slave."
As he spoke, Susan slipped a hypodermic needle into my arm, and I felt the first speed flash almost before I could flinch. The great rush of indescribable bliss poured through me. I was flushed with longing, with an immense love which expanded through all space and embraced everything that existed in the entire universe. My arms and legs became heavy and my skin grew sensitive to the air; I lay back open, uncaring, ready to accept whatever the universe wanted to give.
I felt hands, many hands, begin to caress my body. I didn't know whose they were and it didn't matter. It was flesh, it was alive, it was wanting. Lips came down and covered my mouth, and a large, rough tongue worked its way under my lips, around my teeth, into my cheeks, on my own tongue. The mouth was insistent, hungry, and I was ready to give it everything.
Simultaneously, hands parted my legs, and fingers groped between the cheeks of my ass. I couldn't restrain myself. I flung my legs open and kicked my feet into the air, exposing myself, writhing, yearning, moving. Teeth bit at my nipples with little tearing bites, hurting but not damaging, almost damaging, sending waves of sensitive resistance through me. Then they moved down, gnawing at my ribs.