Rattling. BuzZZzing. Powerful currents passing through our shaking bodies. High-pitched frequencies fill the darkened room as our squeals harmonize with the synthesizer coming through the speakers. We are wired in a myriad of ways. Vibrating. Rocking. Fucking until our teeth bounce off each other. This is sex screaming from the future.
Hitachi wands send waves through our tissue. Trent Reznor's deep bass crushes our molecules. Driven numb and hypersensitive simultaneously, I want to vomit and cum all over you at the same time! You can't feel your ass but the entrance of the third finger makes you cry, "Stop! Yes! What are you doing??" Turning the machine to max power, I can feel the vibration coursing through your body into mine. It's so good to be inside of you at this moment!
Disorienting. Unraveling. Your legs freeze open as you fire off, "OhHhHhHhHh!" Cumming so hard, your pistol jams in your hands; backfiring. A second time, "OhHhHhHhHh!" You're climbing the walls trying to escape your body as it goes haywire! My arms are on fire. I can't remember where I put my legs. Creating a silver puddle on your chest, I melt into a puddle onto your chest. Limp. Demolished. Left with just enough juice to hit the 'off' button.
|"Mathias Lauridsen" by Henrik Bulow|