Mind Reader...an excerpt

His hips moved back and forth, rhythmically. The beats his pounding must have been leaving against her walls were intoxicating. Five short hard thrusts, followed by two slow deep ones. We could all smell her arousal building to a climax, and the scent called a response from our own. I touched my pussy, impatient, horny, and pleasantly surprised. It had been awhile since I had wanted sexual stimulation this badly. It was like smelling a meal whose scent was appealing enough to make you hungry when you had already eaten. Sexual aides and masturbation was a part of life. Out of every ten boring, cookie cutter passerby on the street, at least seven of them were engaging in some sort of sexual escapade as they walked to and from their destinations…eyes glazed over, bodies buzzing with pheromones and endorphins, barely taking notice now. Immediate sexual gratification was now like satisfying a craving for nicotine. It’s true that people don’t always know what they want. I remember writing poetry about a reality like this one. Now, I am living my fantasies turned nightmare. The thing about making sexuality a perfectly accepted, normal part of a society is that, taken in the extreme, sex becomes as routine as everything else. So I enjoyed my impatience like the bitter part of a vintage wine…circa 2010, perhaps. Made from plump, juicy, naturally grown grapes somewhere in southern California.
Speaking of which….

His dick was long, thick, and in a word, juicy. I’m not really into the cheesy pornographic descriptions of body parts, but there was really no other way to describe it. On every stroke, his dick seemed like it was even more bursting with veins, even more ready to explode, even harder, even thicker. Frankly, he made me thirsty…quite a feat for a woman who doesn’t swallow. On top of this, his body itself was magnificent, of course. I tried not to think of the 300 pound butch dyke this avi was probably representing, and just focus on what I was looking at. Besides, you could usually tell Big Berthas from men. They were greedy with it. They fucked too hard, and often – actually usually – came too fast. In my youth women always assumed they were the more giving, emotionally in-tune gender. Well, I cry bullshit…at least, when it comes to sex. Big Berthas proved all that foolishness wrong. When you give women real dicks (or at least the feeling of having a real dick), the only thing they ever appear capable of considering during sex is their own nut. I could have told them so. I can’t believe I just paid 10 Ameros to join this fuckfest and I’m wasting my time analyzing the difference between the way men and butch dykes fuck!

Back to the dick you paid for, Michelle.

I watched him fuck the others in line before me in avid fascination. Or as avid as my mind ever gets, anyway. He must be incredible, as no one waits in lines anymore. For anything. Something capable of making several people participate in this ancient, practically pagan act of waiting in line had to be heavenly indeed. And he…was a god. I watched each woman’s face as she seemed to receive exactly what she had been thinking of. This one is biting her lips and grinding harder and harder into his pelvis. He put her on all fours, and savagely entwined his hands in her hair, wrenching her head back, digging into her cervix with every stroke. With the next woman, his movements were so gentle, that they barely appeared to be moving. I wondered for a second if he knew what he was doing as much as I had assumed, but then his barely perceptible stroke appeared to get deeper, and she cried out as a long stream of cum ran down their legs. She held onto him with her waning strength, her nails digging into his shoulder. He kissed her on the forehead and rolled his weight off her. She remained on the round surface as it rolled away. Before the silent door closed, I could see the bouncers pull her into the recovery room. Ahh, five star service.

I looked back in time to do a double take, as he spat in a girl’s mouth, pulled her up by her throat to kiss her, then grasped the back of her head, pushing it down to ram her waiting, drooling mouth onto his dick. She moaned in pleasure while sucking a huge load from him. All the while, he stared into her eyes as he said the most unspeakable things to her. It was hard to believe that I was watching the same man fuck all of these different women. Hard to fathom that one man could be capable of so many different styles. Part of it was that I wasn’t sure how he was determining how to approach these women sexually.

The one he had treated so gently, I would have mistaken for dominatrix. Covered with leather, stiletto boots, all she appeared to be missing was the whip. The one whose hair he had pulled with such ferocity and abandon seemed like an everything-in-its-place housewife. The one who he had berated as she sucked him off was dressed as a high power executive…complete with the designer pantsuit and shoes and the premier salon spray starched helmet of shiny, glossy hair.

Out of all of these women, I tried to pick out what he liked so that I could leave an impression. But there was no evidence of that at all. Each time, he was totally focused on giving what each woman appeared to want the most, if their reactions were to be believed, that is. I started to fantasize that I would change all that. With me, I would be the one paying attention to giving him exactly what he wanted. The secret, or not so secret desire to be the best someone has ever had seems to be something these over-stimulated youths have evolved out of. But, in this new world my world had turned into, old habits still die hard.

To be continued...(but probably not here)