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By *rgeo OP Man
2 weeks ago
WOLVERHAMPTON |
Chapter Eight: In the Lounge with Jack
For Jack, the turning point from being straight to being something else had happened very quickly, on the very first morning, as a result of the various experiences he underwent in the Edging Room. It began with the viewing of the pornography and the freedom to choose his own special selection, a brand of straight porn that allowed for plenty of close-ups of the female organs and the faces of the women. He had never watched porn in the company of others; it was always a solitary activity. But the realisation that a man or a group of men had arranged this experience for him, had set aside their time for him, had pandered to his sexual proclivities without argument or judgement, gave him pause for thought. No, not thought exactly; it was something more than thinking that took over him that morning. It was primarily a sense of gratitude but also a feeling of fellowship behind it.
Later, as the machine took over and worked at his penis, Jack’s mind went to every imaginable place in an effort to break the spell of the machine and to allow his body some release of sexual energy. That release did not come until much later in the afternoon, when he was the last of the four men to ejaculate with what for him was an amazing spurt of seed. He had never shot so far, with so much force, with so much destructive passion. For it felt like the destruction of his own inner being, even a rearrangement of his brain cells. When he came, it was not a woman that he pictured in his mind. Instead, he was aware only of the presence of all the men around him, caring for him, waiting for him, jealous of him perhaps. It was the male presence that tipped him over the edge. He had Andy on one side of him and Eddie on the other. This was a revelation to Jack. Earlier, as the ruthless machine chewed away at his cock, he had tried picturing all sorts of sexual scenarios as a way of cheating the mechanism and bringing about his own release. None of that mental chicanery had paid off. The machine was too sensitive and the designers behind it too clever to allow him to win on his own. It was a powerful lesson. But, during the circle jerk, with Eddie’s hand on his cock and balls, he finally had the freedom to fly off into the stratosphere.
All four of the men talked positively about the circle jerk session. Not having witnessed it for myself, I had wondered what their reactions had been. It was the first time in the programme that the men had any naked physical contact with one another and I was interested to find out about their levels of shyness and resistance to it. In fact, their shyness seemed to have evaporated well before this session and Andy and Eddie had both been eager to get to it, to have the chance to interact with each other and with the other two men, Jack and Rhym. For Rhym, as he explained in a debrief discussion, it was very much about the thrill of serving others, of providing pleasure, of having the physical evidence of his effect upon other guys. For Jack, it was about being on the receiving end of so much positive, unfettered male attention. He had held out for as long as he could because, simply, he was enjoying himself so much.
Men like Jack, who was only 25-years-old, had been raised in one of the many emergency orphanages which had to be established in order to care for the huge number of children from single-parent families. His mother had died when he was eight years old. Placements with foster families were fraught with difficulties because there were few families left unaffected by The Explosion. The foster families themselves were no longer families in the traditional sense. Mothers, aunts and grandmothers; sisters, nieces and girl-friends: slowly, they no longer existed. It was a long and traumatic decade. There were so many casualties that the final number of fatalities will never be known. And it is too late now to bother about any of that.
He had found the fellatio in Room 2 the biggest challenge of the whole week not because he was put off by the thought of placing another guy’s penis between his lips but because he didn’t want to let himself down. It was not that he wanted to enjoy the experience; it was more that he wanted to treat it as though it were just another day at the office, a fairly boring and mundane task that had to be completed before home time. The actual penis he tasted, licked and sucked, that of the eighteen-year-old, didn’t repel him at all once it was firmly in his mouth and he could feel it respond positively to his touch. He had gagged as perhaps one might gag at the first taste of an oyster. It was like a living thing that he was taking care of for a few minutes, an animal that required his intimate attention. He felt too responsible for it. He was not really conscious of the being behind the screen, whether they were young or old, or fat or thin, or ugly or pretty. He was interacting with a plant, a creature, a separate living organism, that’s more what it felt like, than with a man. When it shot out its globs of semen at the end, again it did not repel him. He had tasted his own cum on many occasions during his masturbatory explorations and quite enjoyed the saltiness of it.
What shocked him the most were his feelings for the lad when he bravely revealed himself at the end of the session. It was for Jack a mixture of pride, tenderness and an acute awareness of his own vulnerability. He had not been physically aroused during the session, but he had noticed that his own penis had leaked quite a lot of pre-cum. Was that a sign of arousal? Maybe. But the overwhelming feeling was again of fellowship, of a male bonding that went into a new area of connection.
It seemed from my observations that he had enjoyed the rimming session more than any of them. He confirmed this. Once he had his head in the right place Jack was able to enter into it with a total sense of abandonment, aware of the pleasure he was providing to the body of the man he was servicing. It wasn’t a man, he felt, just a body like himself. His own body had always enjoyed the careful touch of a tongue’s tip at his most sensitive areas. That morning he was highly aroused and Jack was even able to enjoy the added pleasure of fucking his willing volunteer partner.
When it came to him being fucked, on Day 4, the day of penetration, Jack had moved far beyond the stage of embarrassment or shame or repulsion. The naturalness of it flowed through the whole experience for him and he relished the chance to connect once more with the much younger lad, whose openness on Day 1 had impressed him enormously. The eighteen-year-old was extremely sexually mature but Jack felt a strong fraternal bond with the boy as well as a paternal sense of pride. All these positive feelings were mixed together. The programme itself had helped in this, the debriefings, the discussions, the aftercare, they were the key to it. Talking about their feelings about the various sexual activities had made a huge difference when it came to the acts themselves. Their own brains were reprogramming themselves.
Jimmy, Marko and I had met separately a few times in the previous week as well as meeting together with the four men, Jack, Eddie, Andy and Rhym. I had also interviewed the different groups of volunteers who came in each day from the nearby town. All of these interactions and conversations showed me that what we were trying to do had great merit. It could never have been done at any other time in history, perhaps, though from what one had read, the Greeks and the Romans were quite shameless about it. One wondered where things had gone wrong. One also realised that even now things could go wrong. There were still many hurdles to jump.
Jack’s tears on Day 5 at hearing the story of my close encounter with Ben Harper had made the deepest impact on me. One day, I thought, I shall ask him about the emotions behind those tears and about the story that accompanied them. When the time came to ask him, we would both be in a very different situation. We’d be together in The Cellar, the very darkest place, utterly helpless and, finally, against our will, facing a terrifying ordeal where CNC was no longer a menu item. It was the moment when the whole thing went wrong, where the programme turned a dangerous corner and left us all exposed.
The fact that you are reading about it now is evidence that I came out of it. But some of the others were not so lucky. I have so far been trying to order these reminiscences into some sort of coherent chronological narrative. For the moment, however, in the next chapter, it is necessary to jump far into the future. It is a future where Jack, Andy, Eddie and Rhym are all dead, Jimmy and Marko too. The President also is long gone, for he was twice my age at the start of this tale. Out of them all, only Ben Harper is still alive.
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