Mind Blower

by Marco Vassi

  I wondered why, when such exquisite grace was possible with such small subtle movement, did we spend so much time grunting and crashing into one another? It seemed that in fucking we get carried away by the mounting energy, and lose sensitivity control. And as with any other interactive machine, the less sensitivity there is the more signal input there has to be, and in our case that amounted to adding on more bodies, more drugs, more whips, more of everything, until one was glutted. But when the sensitivity increased, one could do less until, doing almost nothing at all, everything was explodingly vital!

  Tocco broke my reverie. "They do very little but look and be looked at. Sometimes the tension gets so high in here, though, that all hell breaks loose and there is more sustained fucking and sucking and carrying on than you can imagine. Personally I have always found this particular style a bit tedious, but I can appreciate the purity of line it involves. With a body the size of mine, exhibitionism would verge on the grotesque." This was the first time I had heard Tocco make any reference to his personal preferences, and it amused me to hear him, of all people, use a word like grotesque disparagingly. He nudged my elbow for us to leave, and as I walked out I glimpsed a man squeezed so far down to the floor that his chin was pushed in, looking between the legs of a couple fucking. And as he watched a thick cock thrashing in and out of the stretched churning cunt lips, his eyes grew wide and his face lit up with what surely must have been glowing revelations.

  We went diagonally across to a door marked "Sadist-Masochist," and I almost hesitated to enter, fearing blood and gore on the other side. Tocco sensed my mood and hastened to reassure me. "Nothing crude goes on in these corridors, Michael. The people here, although they are engaged in what seems infantile behavior at times, are quite serious and intelligent. There's none of that silly chain and leather business here. They are all specialists who, like yourself, know what it is to be broken by pain, and it is from that vantage point that they study its effects."

  We opened the door onto what seemed to be a lecture room. A man was standing speaking to a group of about twenty people who sat facing him. It might have been a schoolroom except for two things: they were all nude, and a woman was tied to a long table in front of the speaker. We walked around to the back and joined the audience.

  "So," the speaker was saying, "it is clear that pain has at least two primary functions—releasing energies within oneself, and serving as a counterweight to the partner's pleasure. The more A suffers, the more B can enjoy himself or herself, and the fuller is A's experience." He looked down at the woman in front of him, her legs rising to the rich hills of her thighs, her pubic hair bristling up like grass between her legs, and a thin waist flaring up to huge breasts which now sank to either side of her rib cage like great mounds of jello. "Barbara here is quite tense in her rectum and abdomen, although she is not ordinarily aware of that. Let us picture what might happen if she went to bed with, as they say on the outside, some man she has come to like.

  "As they fuck, she experiences initial pleasure, but as it starts to mount, it is somehow cut off. She doesn't know why, for she is not in contact with the tensions in her body and mind which keep her holding on. Her mind starts to work, and she begins to wonder what is wrong. Perhaps she blames the man, or condemns herself. If he is a typical lout, he is so busy enjoying the simple friction of rubbing his cock inside her cunt to notice anything, and will fuck her until he comes. But if he is somewhat sensitive he will notice that something is wrong and wonder why she isn't enjoying herself fully. Then, if he is an intellectual, he will stop to ask her about it, which will, if he does not possess the utmost empathy, embarrass her and put the two of them through one of mankind's most tedious scenes, the frigidity rigamarole.

  "But if he is an activist, he will thrust harder, grab at her, and poke at her. And like a monkey learning his first pile-boxes trick, he makes a crude cause and effect chain in his mind. He will notice that the rougher he gets, the more responsive she becomes. He will form barely articulate notions like, everytime I put my finger up her ass, she starts to go wild, or everytime I slap her ass she digs it, or when I pinch her nipples hard, she flips. On her part, she doesn't like pain, but oddly, the more pain there is the more sexual pleasure she enjoys. So an association is made: pain—pleasure. Neither of them has the slightest notion that what is happening is that shock is being used to relax tension, and neither of them has the slightest notion of what true relaxation is. So she becomes what the psychology texts stupidly refer to as masochist. He, on the other hand, gets a bonus, for he has a willing outlet for his aggression and suppressed violence. She pays for what she has been told are sins, via her conditioning from parents, priests, teachers, et al. And ultimately, she lets herself be beaten because she is no good, the proof of which is that she can't come. Next thing you know, she's tied to a post and some man is whipping the daylights out of her."

  He took a sip of water and continued, "Now, the really interesting thing is that knowing that intellectually doesn't make the slightest bit of difference. One has to realize the truth of it. One has to feel pain, and the usually accompanying states of degradation and helplessness (although those are strictly speaking, different realms), and observe the process as it takes place. With that in mind . . ."

  There was an interruption. "Sir, before you proceed, may I ask what the dynamics of sadism are?"

  The man smiled. "That's quite simple. A sadist is one who does not have the courage to be a masochist, and must take pleasure vicariously, through identification with the victim." He paused. "And speaking of victims, today we will have a confrontation between the insides of Barbara's thighs and a lighted cigarette."

  A ripple went through the room as people hunched forward and resettled in new positions. The speaker pulled a pack of cigarettes from a drawer under the table, lit one, and holding it between his thumb and forefinger, leaned forward. Barbara attempted to pull away, and a thin film of sweat broke out on her brow. She twisted toward me and I could see her mouth fall open. Her tongue flickered between her teeth, and she seemed to be inviting us to do something for her or to her. Her ass squashed flat against the table top and she drew her pelvis back, sucking her cunt in deep between her legs. The speaker brought the red tip to within a quarter inch of her thigh, close up to the crotch. Barbara began to moan. The man leaning over her gloated, "I won't do it until you tell me, tell me you want it, tell me you want me to hurt you." The cigarette tip was almost touching her skin, and a thin wail escaped her lips. "Tell me you like it," he pressed on. "Beg me to do it." And to my surprise, as she continued trying to pull away, she began to shout. "Yes, do it! Do it! I want it! Burn me, grind it out on my legs! Shove it up my cunt, burn me, burn me!"

  The lecturer brought the cigarette close to her pubic hair. "Do you want it on the cunt, Barbara, shall I mash the flame right into your tender cunt lips?" I found myself trembling in anticipation. Would he really do it?

  And at that point, he delicately lowered the cigarette so that it hung right above the white flesh of her inner thigh, just where it begins to flare up and become her cunt. She yowled, "No, don't, please don't!" But with his other hand, he reached down and inserted two fingers into her box, and began moving them around with violent thrusts. Her body seemed to split in two, as part of her strained toward the hand now ravaging her cunt, and part of her tried to pull back from the cigarette. For an eternity she hung poised, and then with a bloodcurdling scream thrust fully forward, taking his hand right up to the knuckles and allowing the glowing red ember to plunge into her flesh.

  The speaker immediately pulled out his hand and took the cigarette away. He reached under the table again, took out a bit of gauze and a bottle of ointment, and wiped the burn down gently. He looked up at the audience and said, "The theoretical ramifications of today's experiment are quite interesting, and I would like each of you to write a short paper on some aspect of the experience. Please pay attention in your writing to the conflict between the fear of actual pai
n and the symbolic desire to be immolated. That will be all for today." Then he paused a moment and said, "If anyone wishes to use her before I untie her . . . She should be prime right now." There was a moment's hesitation, then several men got up and went over to the table. They looked down at her for a moment, and then all at once swarmed up over her. One glued his mouth to the nipple of her left breast, took the soft globe in his hand and began kneading it very hard with his fingers. A second man climbed between her legs, and without any preliminaries, plunged his cock into her cunt; he rode her shallow and high so that she began to squirm in excitement under him. The other knelt at her shoulders, and teased her mouth with his cock until she began straining to raise her head to reach him, licking at his cock with her outstretched tongue, and imploring him with her lips to drive the hard, long tool into the gulping frenzy of her throat.

  Tocco and I stood up and made our way out. I was filled with a rich, deep excitement that was at least sexual, but had more elements in the mix. Most surprisingly, I had no desire to enter into the scene. When we were outside, we looked at each other. "That's a very strange group of people," I said. "Yes," he answered. "I rather like them except they tend to be snobs. They have an elitist attitude and consider themselves on the true forefront of sexual experimentation, claiming that pain is the key to all understanding. It's very Eastern, actually." We went past several doors and then stopped. "Now here is something a bit different." I turned to look, and on the door it said: "Marriage."

  "This," said Tocco, "is one of our more flourishing branches of research. Of course, the nuclear family has been an anachonism for almost as long as it has existed, and yet it still has a compelling appeal to people who, one might think, ought to know better. It seems to offer nothing but limitation of freedom, dampening of consciousness, false notions of responsibility, and a general deadening of vital life forces. It is boring, maddening, inefficient, and perhaps the basic cause of all that is wrong with our civilization. And yet people still flock to it in millions every year.

  "More and more people are discarding it, and the younger ones are showing signs of rejecting it outright. But it does no good simply to condemn the institution. Honestly, all of us, somewhere inside us, want that particular blend of possessiveness and fear and so-called fidelity which can hypnotize us into believing there is some security in this world. Also, since it is at the core of our culture, we are all infected with its attitudes and emotional coloration. And in freeing ourselves of it. . ."

  I interrupted: "Do you think marriage is no good under any circumstances?"

  "Of course not. But as with everything else, we must discard our prejudices and images before we can come to terms with the actuality. Marriage is not only possible but potentially extremely beautiful, but to reach that point, we must go through horrors of self-understanding that discourage all but the most hearty. And the first door that must be passed through is jealousy." He turned the knob on the door. "Let's look in," he said.

  The room had only three people, a woman and two men. Two were obviously a pair, and the second man sat at a distance and watched. There was a sexual tension in the air as thick as water. We arranged ourselves next to one wall and watched. Tocco leaned over and whispered to me, "The husband has been tortured with feelings of wanting to share his wife with other men, but unable to tolerate the idea. What's happening here is his attempt to work it out in actuality." I suddenly realized that a number of times Tocco must have exhibited one of my scenes with the same kind of dispassion, and it was very strange being on the observer's seat.

  The husband leaned forward and cupped one of the woman's breasts with his hand. She leaned back, and as she did so her skirt rode several inches up her thighs. It was a small movement, but every person in the room was aware of it. The husband licked dry lips. "Do you want her?" he said to the other man. The second man kept his eyes glued to the woman's thighs and said, coolly, "The question is, does she want me?" The husband responded, "I'm the one who's giving her to you; you have to reply to me."

  The second man looked up. "I don't believe in human property," he said. "We make it because she wants to or we don't make it at all." The husband tried again. "Do you want me to give her to you?" he said. The intruder answered, "I don't care about you. I don't want to fuck her to put you down. I just want her. I want her to wrap those beautiful lips around my cock; I want to feel her ass in my hands; and I want to stick this tool between those pretty thighs and right into her cunt. And you can watch, or leave. I don't care. I just want cunt. What do you want?"

  The husband looked desperate. "We've spent years building a bond of trust and intimacy, and you want to come along and just plunge your cock into the middle of it to destroy what we have together,"

  The second man began to inch forward. "I don't want to destroy anything. I'm not stealing her away from you. I just want to fuck her; why is that so hard to understand?"

  Just then, the woman leaned back even further, and let her legs fall apart. Her breasts strained tautly against her blouse. She and the second man looked into each other's eyes, but both were only seeing her cunt, so that as he looked at her, their eyes were just lenses, while the emotions and the consciousness prepared to fuck.

  The husband turned to her. "Is that what you want, Marianne? Do you want to fuck him?"

  She looked at him, and pity mingled with a hard center. "Of course I want to fuck him. Don't you think I have the same urges you do? Don't you think I want a new cock sometimes, a new smell, a new way of riding? Don't you think I'm thrilled by the notion of having a stranger enter me?"

  "I can understand that," he said," but what if . . . ?"

  She cut in. "What if I enjoy him more than I do you? Is that it? Well, what if I do? Who are you to hold me back? Who are you to limit my range? The contract I made with you didn't include limiting my sexual freedom. And I am not going to take having you emotionally blackmail me. Besides, this is your idea. I was content until you started filling my head with these notions. And now you're unhappy because I believed you."

  She touched him tenderly on the cheek and said, "Poor Robert. Why don't we just do it?" He looked up at her, and she began slowly unbuttoning her blouse. She let her skin be revealed by degrees, and then reached behind her to unsnap the brassiere. Her breasts swung out and bounced gently until they came to rest in an easy sag. She looked over at the second man, who replied by stroking the bulge that was showing down one leg. She looked down at the outline of his cock through the tight pants, and her mouth fell open and her eyes grew smoky.

  She now lay all the way back, in an open invitation for them to carry it off. The second man crawled forward, and as he came up level with her waist, slid his hand all the way up her skirt until he had grabbed her full on the cunt through her nylon panties. She moaned and turned her head away, but her husband was there, now excited and diving into the realization of his fantasy with no reserve. He whipped out his cock and met her lips with it as she moved. She reached for it, and he crawled up until her face was cradled between his thighs, with his knees drawn up, and her sucking with small sobs and whimpers.

  Concurrently, the other man pulled up her skirt to reveal the lower treasures. Without ceremony, he pulled her panties down. "No need to warm up," he said to no one in particular, "the bitch is hot." And he poked and wormed in a great eight-inch cock, with a mammoth head, tapering off towards the base. It was shaped like a baseball bat, and as the immense tip ripped through her, her mouth formed a silent "O".

  The two men rode her together in that fashion. She seemed almost paralyzed, although she was enjoying the most overwhelming sensations. The man pushed her legs back, exposing her cunt fully, and while still in her, reached forward and pulled the lips apart even further. Her husband grabbed her by the back of the head and brought her mouth fuller onto his cock. She lay in total transport and sucked like a lapping dog while she let her cunt be rammed and plundered by the stranger's hungry prick.

  "Let's turn her over," th
e man said, and pulled out only to grab her hips and throw her over on her belly. Her husband slid himself under her so that she could continue working with her mouth, and the man pushed her knees away from him so that her ass rose in the air and exposed all the tender slit from behind. He sank fully into her, and she let out a low groan which was immediately stoppered by the cock entering her throat. The man behind her pulled out again; this time he brought his mouth down between her cheeks and began licking and biting and sucking at the now dripping and gyrating cunt. She rolled her ass through the air and forced it back so that her cunt was forced more fully onto his mouth. The motion transferred to her mouth, and she began sucking with passion, until her husband's knees buckled and his pelvis thrust up time after time while a mouthful of sperm was delivered, and she gobbled his cock until it was completely drained.

  Then everything stopped for a moment. The husband seemed stunned, and his wife just opened her mouth to let the limp cock fall out. Behind the woman, the second man straightened up, and his cock stood out, still stiff and ready for action. The situation froze in an instant of terrible clarity. The husband had come and was now out of it, and it was easy to see the question flit over his face as to whether she had sucked him off simply to get him out of the way, so she could enjoy the other man without distraction.

  She was watching his face, and then, with the slightest shrug of the shoulders, pushed her ass back so that her cunt slipped like a perfectly fitting glove over the waiting cock. The man pushed her sideways, and then swung one leg around so she was facing him. She let out a single sob and flung her legs high in the air and wrapped them around his shoulders. He sank into her like a tire which has suddenly been punctured, and let himself ride on the wide ocean of delirium tossing beneath him, being bounced about on a constantly shifting, changing hot sea of sensation and feeling, looking down from time to time to see the naked face of a woman in the throes of complete abandon. He flung his arms to the side and thrust forward so that he penetrated her heavily and directly from above. She bucked under the stimulation and emitted a series of low grunts that changed into gasps, as though she couldn't catch her breath, and then a long undulating wail that made the hair on my neck prickle, until she was digging into his shoulders with her nails and slamming at his body with her entire body, her cunt working like a hungry mouth, enveloping his cock and sucking at it, demanding, when, with a hoarse cry of release, she shuddered against his body and, still clinging, pumped wave after wave of throbbing cunt into his cock.