Mind Blower by Marco Vassi Read Free Book Online Page 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."