Mind Blower (17 page)

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.
 

He came quietly, softly, with a look of reverence and surprise on his face.

They lay locked for a long time and gradually straightened their limbs and stretched out their bodies, and rolled apart. After a while they sat up and smiled at one another in a kind of secret understanding. Suddenly, the spell was broken by the voice of the husband. "You never came that way with me," he said. He was sitting with his arms curled around his knees and looked like a sulking four-year-old child. The lovers gave each other a "what can we do?" look, when Tocco hoisted himself up on his feet and lumbered over to the unhappy man like a rhinoceros preparing to charge. He went right up to him, and to everyone's surprise, yanked his head up by the hair and slapped him soundly across the face.
 

"You have one choice, my friend, and the choice is NOW. There is no one, not one single person in the known universe, who will help you when you want to suffer. And it doesn't matter how many rationalizations you have, or how many reasonable arguments for your case; if you can't cope with whatever reality is coming down, you will go under." Tocco spoke with fire in his eyes. "So, will you face the stupidity of jealousy and possession, and end it, now, once and for all, or will you slide back into that morass of sentimentality and oppression which is lovingly called the family? There's no compromise. If you succumb to jealousy, there's no way out."
 

The husband seemed to gather strength from Tocco's words. "I want to be rid of it, you know that," he said, "but I don't know what to do."
 

Tocco looked around at the other two. "Well," he said, "it seems that those two have something fairly exciting happening between them now, and have no immediate need of a third. So why don't you go take a walk?"
 

The indecision showed itself as a field of conflicting movements over his face. Tocco bent down to him again. "That is the reality. Do you understand? The reality. She is hot for another man. There is no way you can change that. There is no way you can convince her not to feel that. Your only strength lies in letting it happen and then seeing what comes next. You can't pin her down to a tomorrow. If the two of you have something worthwhile, you will be together enough."
 

The husband stood up slowly and looked down at his wife, and a strange sense of power radiated from him. She watched him and her face seemed to grow ten years younger, as though she were a young woman again and seeing him for the first time. The man at her side fell out of the ring of attention. Then Tocco did something of true mischief. He said to the husband, in a loud whisper, "Besides, there are scores of eager-cunted girls and women crawling—sometimes literally crawling—over the grounds outside." The husband smiled, turned on his heels, and walked out.
 

The woman made a gesture as if to follow him or call out to him, but the man behind her reached around and pulled her down. He covered her tits and began mauling them, pinching at the nipples. The door slammed shut, and after a moment's shock she turned to her new lover, and with a look of self-disgust, flung her mouth down to his cock.
 

Tocco took my elbow and we left the room. "They've been doing this for weeks now," he said. "Jealousy is not like syphilis. It takes more than a shot of penicillin to cure it."
 

We got out into the hallway, and Tocco continued. "I think we've had enough for today. I'm afraid I've become a little tired. It's still amazing to me that people demand comfort from one another, as though it could be given on request. If only people would be simple in knowing precisely what they wanted, then they could ask for things it is reasonable to expect that others can provide: a glass of water, a bit of privacy, a good fuck." He paused, and added with a flourish, "But the species has never been known for its ability to do anything simply."
 

We ascended in the elevator, and Tocco said, "You are in a different place than you were when you got here, and I have let you have some time simply to enjoy your new awareness. But you have yet to come to terms with the specifics of your original question. And for that, I will introduce you to VuVu. But get a good night's sleep, and I will come by for you in the morning."
 

We went into his study, and I had started to leave when something tripped in my mind, and I asked, "Tocco, what do you get from all this?" He looked at me with an amused smile for a long while, and then said, "How else would a fat, ugly old man get so much sex?"
 

I spent the day walking in the woods. Spring was setting the juices free, and the trees came more alive, and the afternoon filled with the sounds of men and women fucking on the grass.
 

FOURTEEN

I GOT UP early the next day, just after the break of dawn, and went to the kitchen for a solitary breakfast. I felt strong and clearheaded, and looked forward to meeting the woman Tocco had spoken about, Vu-Vu. I wondered if she were French.
 

I went back to my room and spent a pleasant hour just sitting in a wicker chair- at the edge of the garden, watching the day come alive. I don't know when I had been more content. And when Tocco's knock came at the door, I was positively exuberant in greeting him. But once again he pulled the rug out from under me, for he was dressed in a dark blue double-breasted suit, complete with a bowler hat and thin briefcase. His black leather shoes squeaked as he walked in. His tone was extremely brisk.
 

"What you will be doing today," he began, "is confronting yourself in a way not available to man prior to the past twenty years. And there have been perhaps only a dozen people in the world who have attempted this experiment. They have all failed. Two committed suicide, one went mad, and the others reported that they were totally untouched by what happened. So I have high hopes for us today, for if you can deal with VuVu, it will provide our research with a first. And, in a way I am not allowed to divulge, our funds depend on our continuing success. But there's no point in talking about it further. Let's be off."
 

We went once more through his office and down the elevator, but this time, upon emerging, we took the hallway to the right. I wondered at what sort of woman she must be to merit all this special attention, and just what sort of esoteric trip she had that was new to mankind's experience. We finally came to a small wooden door, opened it, and entered into a medium-sized room. Tocco turned on the light and a strange sight met my eyes. In the center of the room was a massage table. Above it hung a strange set of pulleys and metal arms and rubber tubes. One wall was a bank of meters and circuitry housing, while four video screens stared down from the ceiling. It looked in a way like a surreal recording studio.
 

I turned to Tocco. "Where's VuVu?" I said. "You're looking at her," he answered. My mind went quizzical. Tocco's eyebrows went up and his face showed a flash of sudden understanding. "Oh, how foolish of me. Of course, you would have had no way of knowing. VuVu is a computer."
 

I laughed. "Tocco, you're not going to sit me down for a battery of psychological tests, are you?"

He spoke slowly. "I don't know quite how else to put this, Michael, but you are going to have sex with VuVu."

And then it made sense. The contraption above the bed brought to mind descriptions of the Masters and Johnson machinery. The mechanical aspects were clear, but what was the role of the computer itself?
 

Tocco seemed to be reading my thoughts. "VuVu is programmed to understand body language. Instead of dealing with problems of physics or economics or space flight, or some other inane area of human activity, we have fed all the variables of body language into the computer, using a series of equations which make a kind of sexual unified field-theory."
 

I was startled. "Where do you get mathematicians of that calibre, Tocco?" I had a paranoid flash. "Are you being supported by the CIA?" I demanded. "It's rather more international than that," he answered.
 

"Some of the variables are simply physiological, heart rate, blood pressure, skin temperature, muscle tonus, and so on. Others refer to a language of gesture, facial expressions, angle of limbs, speed of movement, et cetera. VuVu can respond to the spoken word, so anything you say will be part of the material. And also, we shall have tiny electrodes pinned to your scalp to measure changes in brain wave function.
 

"VuVu will be doing a number of things simultaneously. One is to analyze all the data you provide her in order to produce a sexual profile for you. Also, she will be controlling the mechanical cock and cunt which you see hanging down from the ceiling. In short, you will be fucking and being fucked by a computer programmed to give you a perfect lay, and at the same time let you know what your scene is."
 

I looked at the set-up with a measure of respect. Tocco rubbed his hands together and said, "Let's begin." He snapped his fingers and two women dressed as nurses came into the room: Susan and Sylvia. I was told to take off my clothes, and then I lay down on the table. A number of switches were thrown and the room lights dimmed except for a bright glow in the center where I lay. The television screens went on, and four images of me stared down at me from the ceiling. The computer lit up with several dozen green and red lights, and the nurses busied themselves making sure the machinery above me was working and lubricated. Then Sylvia pulled down a number of thin wires and began pinning them on to my scalp. "They're quite loose," she said, "so you don't have to worry about moving your head."
 

And then, suddenly, all the preparations were over. I lay naked and ready, waiting for the computer to make its move. Susan came over and squeezed my hand. "Whatever happens," she said, "I'll be waiting for you afterwards." To my surprise, I found myself saying, "Please Susan, the melodrama makes the scene a bit over-ripe, don't you think?" She began to look hurt, but I smiled at her, and she copped to it. "I hope you die, you prick" she said, then kissed me and left. The others followed, and standing at the door, Tocco said, "Whenever you are ready, there is a little switch by your right hand which will start things going. You will also find something to relax you in the drawer under the table by your left side. Good luck." And with that, he left the room.
 

I lay there for a moment, and then found the drawer he mentioned. In it were a number of joints and some matches, and a supply of poppers. I rolled to my side, and getting comfortably propped up on one elbow, I lit a joint. Immediately, I began to relax, and after a while lay back again to look things over.
 

Within a short time I felt an odd sensation creeping up on me. It was a sense of aloneness without really being alone. The images of myself on the screens gave a sense of otherness, although the other was still me. Watching myself in such objective immediate feedback did strange things to my head. And then, the images changed, and it took a moment for me to realize that what was happening was that three of the screens were showing pictures of me in different time-space. One seemed to be five minutes behind, another was a minute or so, and the third was about fifteen seconds. It must have a delayed feedback loop being used, and it provided a disoriented twist to my time sense.
 

And then I became aware of the living wall of lights, and I remembered the reality of the computer, a mass of electrodes and wires and transistor circuits. It was only a machine, of course, but then, so was I. In many ways it was much more intelligent than I was, and although I knew it wasn't a person, a sense of quiet and precise awareness emanated from the wall. VuVu sat in perfect self-absorption, not needing or wanting anything, not caring to budge, not evaluating, but simply being aware and analyzing whatever data came through. I saw in an instant that it was nothing other than the Buddha mind, and that man had created a machine which exhibited all the faculties of perfection he himself had only occasionally been able to achieve.
 

Suddenly I was turned on to the whole thing. I could do or say anything I wanted with VuVu, and it would be dealt with impartially, with no distortion. I lit another joint and let myself become open to the machine. If the computer could give me back myself in my relationship with it, if it helped me to know myself better, then it was obviously the organism that I needed to involve myself with. I finished the joint, lay back fully, and threw the switch.

Immediately the machinery above me began to move. The first thing which descended was a penis substitute, a cuningly carved cock made of some material that came close to feeling like skin. It came down to the level of my thighs and nudged itself right under my balls. I lifted my legs; the cock slid down the crack of my ass and moved toward my asshole. Somewhat self-consciously, I guided my body so that the cock went right to the hole, and then it began gently prodding until it entered. The effect was pleasant, but not electrifying. I did a few experimental wiggles, found the cock to be pliable, and opened to it more. I caught sight of myself in the screen, and for a moment I appeared totally ludicrous, but that changed to flashes of depravity, and the image-war began in my mind. But this time I just let it rage, not getting involved in identifying with any of the ideas, but simply letting them be part of the experience.