Free Mind Blower by Marco Vassi Page B

feeling that something had to happen and soon.  
    Just then the cunt hole parted very wide, and the outer lips and inner lips peeled back. The cunning center of the opening itself was exposed, tender, pink, ruffled. At that point all awareness trembled. Inside was all yearning and soft; outside was all demanding and hard. Then, in a stroke, a massive purple-rimmed engine nudged at the passageway.  
    Ripples of excitement seized the cuntly world, and the pulsating hole yielded slowly and lovingly as the round-rimmed cock nosed its way in. For a long, long time there was no sensation except each fraction of an inch of cock as it moved past the cunt opening. It seemed endless, as though the passage would endure forever. The opening stretched wider and wider, and as the tissues were pulled apart, spasms of joy shouted into the recesses of the cave.  
    The cock moved in ponderously and solemnly, its single eye seeing all at a glance. And then the dance began.
    The cock pushed in until it had lodged itself as deeply as the cunt could allow. The mood changed from anticipation to fullness. The inner walls waved and clutched and grasped the shaft in a hot, pulsing grip. Showers of fluid fell everywhere. The aroma was as deep and rich as black earth overturned in the spring. The cunt sang in exultation.  
    A movement of a different kind began. At first all the shaking was internal, rising up from below the surface of the skin. Then the flesh itself began to move. Ripples ran up and down the walls and massaged the cock with a thousand tiny gestures. Large movements began to grow in the deep places beyond where the cunt itself lay, and the shock of them reverberated throughout the canyon of frothing excitement which the cunt had become.  
    The cock responded with its own massive movements, and started rocking in and out, thrusting to the top, to the sides, to the bottom, deep into the inner recesses. Soon the cunt went slack, overpowered by the great machine moving inside it, and began almost gasping for breath, seizing the cock with great gulps, sucking at it, licking it, exploding bombs of heat into its flesh.  
    Now, almost as though a great bell had begun to ring, a new sense of imminence arose. A deep roaring sigh echoed down the corridors of the mighty cunt. And with one final roll, great tidal waves of unendurable pleasure broke and washed again and again through all the layers and folds and membranes and tissues of the now searing hot and violently convulsing cunt. And at that, the cock tore loose in throbbing spasms, shooting stream after stream of gushing balm all over the hungry and thirsty walls of the cavern.  
    A moment's blackness passed, and suddenly I found myself sitting bold upright in bed, a cold sweat rimming my forehead. The dream hung in palpable reality before my eyes, and for an instant 1 was trapped in that insane state where I know what reality is, but cannot break the overpowering spell of the fantasy. My mind, which just a half hour ago had been so peaceful, now teemed with thoughts too fast and slippery for me even to ponder. It was like a mad ticker-tape machine, punching out speculations and concepts and fears. I felt violently sick and launched myself from the bed to go running into the john, where the remains of the evening's dinner splashed in grateful release from my stomach.  
    I sat for a long time, digging the cool of the tile floor, my head resting on the toilet seat rim. The vomiting had made me calmer and control returned, but a boundless sense of emptiness whistled through my soul. I got up slowly, threw some cold water on my face, and went into the bedroom. Sleep seemed out of the question for a while, so I turned on the light and picked up the only thing in the room to read, Tocco's pamphlet on the Institute for Sexual Metatheatre.  
    I flipped through the pages at random until a phrase caught my eye. It read: "And so the individual comes to a point where it seems he must deny love