by Marco Vassi
He was totally avuncular. "Now, Michael, why don't you play with Sarah and Jean here? I'm sure it will be very instructive, and you are here to learn, aren't you?" He put the box down and began to leave the room. "Have a good time, children," he said.
I turned and saw the two girls watching me solemnly. This was my first good look at them. Sarah was the taller of the two. She had olive skin and short cropped hair, and wore tight jeans and a polo shirt. Jean was dressed more traditionally, with auburn curls, and a frilly skirt over a pair of mesh stockings. I had no way of knowing how experienced they were, whether they had done this before, or even whether they were still virgins.
Suddenly Sarah knelt down to take the cover off the box. As she leaned forward the jeans tightened against her buttocks. She had a tiny but exquisitely-shaped ass. I stared at her haunches. She looked up, looked back at her legs, then looked back at me, and smiled.
An odd sense of unreality settled over the room. What did the smile mean? Was she being seductive? Could a little girl be seductive? Of course, but was she aware of what she was doing? What was innocence, anyway? What was going on in her head? I had to know, and the only way to get there was to play the game: the game in the cardboard box, and the game that had been set up among the three of us.
Being the oldest, I thought I should serve as leader. "Jean," I said, "you be the nurse and I'll be the doctor, and Sarah can come in for an examination." I heard my words ring hollowly and my heart began to worry at whether this was grotesque. I looked at Sarah and she returned my level gaze. Yes. she was the one I wanted. She was to lie down and let me know her body. I wondered whether there might be a more subtle way to approach it, but it seems that children appreciate directness. Jean began to poke through the instruments in the game box and Sarah turned to me and said, "Should I take my clothes off or do you want to undress me?"
The palms of my hands grew moist. All the dirty-old-man fantasies I had ever had rushed through my head. But could I be a dirty old man if there was also a dirty young child? And what was wrong with having sex with children anyway? Tocco was right that all the prejudices had to be examined. My resolve snapped into place.
"Why don't you just lie down on the couch, and we'll take your clothes off when we need to."
She stretched out on the couch and lay there looking at me with cool, unperturbed eyes. Jean handed me a flat wooden stick and we approached the patient. "Let me examine your mouth first," I said. She opened her tiny mouth and said Ahhh. I brushed my fingers over her lips and then ran one finger into her mouth and over the insides of her cheeks and onto her tongue. "This all seems all right," I said. Jean leaned forward and said, "You're supposed to wash your hands first," and she took my hand and began licking it, first the palms and then the fingers, until she came to the index finger and began sucking it frantically, licking it with her tongue as hollows formed in her cheeks from the suction. She worked at it almost as though she wanted to draw something from the tip. Finally she removed the finger from her mouth and smiled what seemed like a wicked, delicious smile.
Or was I just imagining it? Was she being a symbolic cocksucker or merely playing a childish game of nurse? I was bursting to ask, but it was useless; she wouldn't have understood the concepts. And I wasn't so sure I could make such a clear distinction either.
I turned back to Sarah and was astonished to see that she had pulled her shirt up. "The last time my mother went to the doctor he tested her to see if she still had milk," she said, and looked in the direction of her nipples. "Don't you want to see if I have milk?" The brazen openness of her request unnerved me, and with a small sob I sank down and began licking her all over the upper body. I ran my tongue over her nipples, under her arms, into her navel. I felt I could rub the skin off her. I reached down and embraced her and smothered her body in kisses.
Just then Jean said. "Boys are different from girls; they have a thing between their legs, don't they?" As I turned to her, suspicion again mounted. Once more it sounded like a rehearsed dialogue. "Can I see yours?" she added. And then I went over the edge. It no longer mattered whether these were children acting out in a mindless fashion the genetic and social games inherited from their parents, or whether they were little witches trained to drive a man to soulessness. I lay back shamelessly, my cock building through my pants.
"You have to take off the belt and pull down the zipper," I said. And there was all innocence and all evil, bending over in the form of a little girl, undoing the buckle and slowly pulling down the zipper until the cock sprang forth.
"You haven't examined the rest of me," Sarah pouted. And while Jean put her small hands around the edge of my cock, I pulled down Sarah's jeans and exposed her small, quivering, unmistakably wet cunt. I leaned forward to put my head between her legs. "Are you going to examine me there?" she said, her voice thin and trembling! Not too steady myself, I answered "yes" as I buried my face between the soft thin thighs.
Then I had a feast. I ran my tongue up and down the tiny slot. I turned her over and licked every part of her ass. I pinched her nipples. She twisted and squirmed, but all her movement was to get closer, to get deeper. My hands were like wings, covering all of her skin, every opening in her body. My fingers went into her mouth and ears and cunt and ass. I kissed her from her toes to her throat and then pressed my lips to her mouth. It was very tiny, but extremely soft and delicate, and she reached up with her tongue and ran it over my lips and then inched it into my mouth.
Jean had begun to pull rhythmically on my cock. I looked down and saw her kneeling in rapt attention to her task, the skirt flared up over her back. I brought her around in front of me and placed her so that her mouth fell on Sarah's cunt, and while she began to nibble at the tender flesh, I sank behind her, pulled down her long dancing tights, and ran my hands over the hundred tiny bulges left in her skin by the mesh hose. Then I treated myself to another delicate delight, as I began a tour of Jean's body with my tongue and fingers. We moved in unison for a long time until I noticed that my cock was beginning to throb almost to the point of pain.
Something in me understood that I was not to penetrate them vaginally. It was not an inner ethic so much as a kin of immediate fear. I had no reason for the feeling, but I followed it. Yet I couldn't stand the tension, and I pulled myself away from Jean's now-dripping cunt and sat back. In a moment they both became quiet and turned to face me. They were both obviously open and willing and excited, and in a flash I moved.
I laid them down on the couch, face to face and cunt to cunt. And then I knelt over them, slipping my cock first between their legs and then moving up to rub it between their bellies and breasts and mouths. They responded like a single body and I lost all sense of difference between them. They were like a single organism, warm and vibrant, giving pleasure.
I placed my cock between the four lips and in a second felt the unforgettable sensation of having two little girls' tongues exploring its tip. I reached back and ran my hands over their asses and fingered their cunts. All pretense at playing doctor seemed to be gone, and we all dove into the act with a will.
I was close to coming, and sat back again, pulling both of them to me. I guided their heads to my prick and lay back in simple languor as Jean ran her tongue up and down the shaft and Sarah took the entire tip in her mouth. She held it there and played with her tongue over all the soft sensitive surface. Then Jean grabbed the shaft in her hands and began jerking me off, right into Sarah's mouth. I slid my hands down again and this time found their cunts to be hot. The middle finger of each hand went in all the way up to the knuckle and we rode like that, Jean pulling and licking, Sarah sucking, and both of them rocking their cunts on my fingers, until I shot a great load full into Sarah's mouth. She swallowed, then sputtered, and swallowed again. When she looked up, sperm was running out of the corners of her mouth, and in her eyes there was the look of a woman a million years old.
"Do you realize that for what you just did, you would be torn limb from limb by the vas
t majority of males in the civilized world?" said Tocco as he walked in without knocking. I looked up, startled, and not a little angry. He was unperturbed by my reaction. "The reason of course, is sheer envy. All men want what you have just experienced. But all men are cowards or murderers. Only a person of highest intelligence can ravish a child in good conscience."
Perhaps out of peevishness at his untimely entrance, or perhaps because of a residual guilt, I snapped back, "Sometimes you sound like a Nazi!"
"Very discerning, Michael," he answered, not in the least put out. "Since I am everyone, I must be able to be anyone. Besides, the difference between a total fascist mind and an enlightened mind can not be defined through behavior. Both discard conventional morality. But that is only one of the many ambiguities that come to light the minute one decides to explore the question of sexual or any other kind of freedom."
"Tocco, were you watching?" I asked.
"Let me put it this way, Michael. If you had attempted to penetrate either of these charming nymphets, you would have been stopped and dealt with rather severely. We do have our rules here, but do not make the mistake of trying to promulgate them. At any rate, you should be over such irrelevant considerations by now. As a matter of routine, most of what happens here is tape-recorded and televised and noted in one form or another. You'll get used to it."
"It's not that," I laughed. "But you might at least give me a few minutes to enjoy a post-orgasmic collapse before you come sailing in with gems of polemic wisdom."
He stared at me for a moment looking like a smart squirrel. "Quite right, Michael, quite right. But that won't always be possible. Oh, you'll see. You'll see." With that he left, chuckling to himself.
He stopped at the door, however, and said, "Oh, by the way. This evening after dinner we shall have our first controlled experiment specifically for your benefit."
After he was gone I turned to see what the girls were doing, and saw them examining one another in great seriousness with toy stethoscopes, looking for all the world like two little girls innocently playing doctor.
FIVE
I ARRANGED MY clothing and went out into the hall. I would have loved to have gone out for a walk to clear my head, and on an odd chance tried the front door, but as I expected, it was locked. I turned and found Susan standing behind me. She motioned toward the door and said, "I know it's frustrating at first, but in the city it's a necessary precaution. People do sometimes freak out, and it wouldn't do to have them running naked into the street."
This was more like the Susan of the first day, and there was no trace of the irascible woman I had met in the hallway the night before. I wanted to make reference to it, but with her there so warm and inviting, what had happened twelve hours ago seemed unimportant. She took my hand and said, "Come on, I want to show you my room."
Her space was somewhat larger than mine, also without windows, and with evidence that she had been in it for a while. There were pictures and wall hangings, an expensive Persian rug on the floor, and all the other paraphernalia of daily life strewn about. I couldn't resist the temptation. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Whatever pale humor might have been in the remark was not even acknowledged. She looked at me with utter seriousness. "Sit down, Michael," she said. I flung myself into an armchair, lit a cigarette, and waited. She seemed to be searching for the words. When she spoke, it was like cold fire. "I like to get fucked," she said. "I like it all the time. In the cunt, in the ass, in the mouth. I like lying luxuriously on a bed with my legs spread wide, feeling a great big cock sliding in and out of me. I also like to go down on my knees in back alleys to suck off perfect strangers. I even enjoy rolling around a bathroom floor while half a dozen guys piss on me. I like to be whipped, I like to be humiliated, I like to have my cunt eaten out, I like to lick cunt. Anything that's got to do with the sexual sensation, I like. I'm a bitch in heat, all the time."
"Are you a nymphomaniac?" I asked.
"No, nothing like that. It's not a compulsion, and I'm not frigid. I come like crazy. And when I get tired of sex, I go off by myself and lie on a beach for a month or so, and get in touch with who I am without my relation to anyone else. I'm just a woman, and like all women, I'm insatiable."
"That's not been my experience."
"Women are afraid. They don't know how to be animals. And then, even if they do discover themselves, its so hard to find a man who is really a man, not some image of what he thinks a man ought to be. I've had to wade through hundreds of creeps to find the one or two who really did it for me, who understood who I am and what I want. Oh, it was all right in the beginning, getting fucked by some clunk-head who stood so low on the evolutionary scale he was practically still breathing through gills. But you know, unless there is a shared consciousness, the experience becomes boring. I tried putting ads in the sex papers and got mostly misspelled obscenities for my trouble. Finally one of the letters sounded intriguing. It turned out to have been written by one of Doctor Tocco's assistants. I came here and went through some of the same changes you are now getting into, and the rest is recorded history."
"How long have you been here?"
"About a year. I can't tell you how much I've learned and unlearned. Hip as I was, I had a list of prejudices a mile long. But Tocco is good. He's the best sexual philosopher alive."
She paused a moment, then smiled. "I'll get us something," she said. She went into the next room, and I kicked off my shoes. I was becoming interested in the story and in the woman telling it. Up to now everything had been so brisk and strange that I had not noticed that the people here were actually quite warm and friendly, despite their quirks. For the first time I began to feel normal. This wasn't a madhouse after all. These were just intelligent people, intensely dedicated to finding out all the intricacies of sexuality. They had faults and probably made mistakes, but that was like people everywhere. I sank into a comfortable bin of sentimentality. Susan seemed like a thousand girls-next-door, only without the sham and pretense. She was an example of what a woman could be, and I had a staggering vision of a world in which every woman was as free as Susan, and every man as strong as Tocco. It would indeed be a race of giants.
She came back into the room, having changed into a white toga-like outfit that had long slits down the side. As she walked it became obvious that she had nothing on underneath. She carried a tray with Black Russians sparkling in icy glasses. "Tocco doesn't usualty like unsupervised liaisons," she said, putting the tray down, "but an occasional breather from 'research' won't hurt anything."
We sipped our drinks and smoked a bit, and she put some Scarlatti on the stereo. Our eyes said many things, and finally the words came. "What were you doing before you came here?" she asked.
I sighed. "It's really a long story which seems interesting in detail, but is really dull in synopsis. Basically, I'm an ex-fanatic. I've joined almost everything at one time or another, political parties, church groups, avant-garde artistic cliques, communes, drug scenes; I was even a guru chaser for a while. I held the usual run of jobs, from dishwasher to high-priced do-nothing executive in a publishing house, getting by on personality and glib horseshit. But you know, running through it all was sex. Even though I didn't know it at the time, that was always the dominating passion, the unifying thread which gave me my deepest identity. And, like you, I got bored making it with people whose heads were as tight as a virgin's asshole. And I willy-nilly made my way here to find . . ." And then I looked up. Susan was looking at me with warm moist eyes, a little smile at the corners of her mouth.
"Do you like the beach too?" she asked, slightly mocking.
Then, as though following a hidden signal, we were in one another's arms. Her body was very warm and soft. Everything we did was gentle and small. It was a different universe from what happened in the hallway the other day.
I reached into one of the openings of the gown and started to stroke her skin in gentle, undulating movements. It was less that I
was caressing her, so much as discovering her for the first time. Learning about the texture, the curve, the friction, the moisture, the hair . . . using my fingers like eyes to taste the sensual reality of her body. And where I touched her, she responded with awareness of being touched. She did not need to move or cry out. I received all the messages through the aliveness of her skin.
Then there was no longer her and me, but the single phenomenon of sensation. I can't even say we shared our feelings, because that would imply two of us, and in this touching there was only one, a single living being involved in and conscious of its own ecstatic tone.
She reached up and slowly unbuttoned my shirt, and where the shirt fell open she put her lips. It was not the greedy sucking of the desperate, but the loving awareness of the awakened. We lay like that for a long time, easily undoing one another's clothing, basking in the fullness of one another's bodies, going from a tender distance to sudden rushes of passion which would have us holding tightly and completely to one another.
Finally I reached down, and not losing contact with the flow between us, undid my pants. She also moved her hands and opened the clasps of her dress. And then we were naked. Now I had time to drink in her body slowly. Deep breasts that hung exposed in tender vulnerability. Nipples that had already begun to wrinkle and harden. Long expanses of smooth skin over evenly contoured skeleton. Her cunt was shaved clean and vaulted deep under a high pubic bone, like some great sea cave perpetually penetrated by the warm salt sea. She had full, very wide lips, and eyes whose keen intelligence was now suffused with clouds of longing.
It all came home to me at once, the brightness, the sexuality, the humor, the toughness, the tenderness, the beauty. Everything I had ever hoped for in a woman now lay in my arms and was moving toward me with wet openness and desire.
I ran my hand all over her. She turned and shifted to her side, and I explored her back, fingering the delicate curve of her spine, tracing one by one the vertebrae that went from her neck to the top of the deep cleft between her buttocks.