Copyright© 2003 by Carlos Malenkov
He remembered the sandbox. It was a fun place, a safe place. It was a place to play, to act out fantasies, to try out things, to make believe you were a grownup. You could run and jump, and even fall... and the sand kept you from getting hurt. Except for a few scrapes now and then.
Fifteen years later Paul Unschuld was on a journey of discovery. Finally he was going to find out all about love and sex and women's bodies and that deliciously mysterious ritual called "fucking."
He was that rare and exotic flower of a bygone era -- an innocent. He had come of age in the modern and enlightened year of 1968, and had never had a girlfriend. In fact, no one had ever told him about the Facts of Life." He had led a sheltered life, strictly according to his parents' wishes, and they had isolated and shielded him from all the sundry manifestations of "sin and ugliness."
What did a woman's sex organ look like? He had no idea. He had won a scholarship to Cal Tech, yet all he knew about female anatomy was that they had these soft swellings on their "bosom" and a "baby-making hole" somewhere or other in the general area where their legs joined. The actual mechanics of baby-making remained shrouded in the mists.
Early on the morning of his eighteenth birthday he finally broke free of his overprotective parents. Carrying only a worn satchel packed with two changes of clothes, an emergency meal of plastic-wrapped saltine crackers and a can of sardines, and a couple of his favorite paperback science fiction novels, he slipped out his bedroom window at first light. An hour's walk took him to the Route 6 on-ramp. He turned to face the oncoming traffic and stuck out his thumb.
There was a sandbox on a remote mountaintop overlooking southern California's Samarran Desert. Jarman Abelian, the guru of the Sexual Renewal Movement had established his aptly named Sandbox Institute there. Its purpose was to study human sexuality and to fully realize "human potential" by liberating the creative energies of the libido.
Paul had heard fantastic rumors about the place -- that it was the world headquarters of Free Love, that wild orgies shook the walls every night, that the sexual freedom his hippy-wannabe friends talked and dreamed about found full expression there. Now he was determined to see... and experience for himself. He had made his way to within a couple of miles of the entrance of the institute and still had a few dollars left.
The middle-aged woman who had given him a ride in a late-model sedan earlier that day had warned him. "Sonny, I don't know what you're expecting from that bunch of loonies up there on the hill, but watch yourself. You're young and defenseless, and you could easily get hurt." He didn't believe it. How could love and sex possibly hurt?
There it was up ahead -- the massive wrought-iron gate guarding the entrance to... the mysteries.
No one in sight. "Hello-o-o! Anybody there?" No answer. Wait -- was that a push-button on one side of the doorpost? He pressed it, and a muted chime sounded somewhere in the distance. With a loud buzz-and-click the gate unlocked.
A painstakingly maintained cobblestone road led through a cluster of low buildings. The one marked "Administration" seemed a likely candidate for a place to ask directions. He swung the gleaming brass knocker on a massive wooden door.
"Welcome. Come on in, if you will, and sit down." The woman greeting him behind the open door was wearing glasses and a smile -- and nothing else.
His view dropped automatically to her bare... bosom. Then his eyes slowly traced a line of imaginary caresses down her female flesh, down to her tanned belly, down to a triangle of dark hair concealing the faint outline of something beneath.
A short barking laugh brought him back to reality.
"What's the matter, kid? Never seen a naked woman before? If so, you're probably in the wrong place. This is a research institute. Human sexuality research, in fact."
"Uh, yeah. I thought I'd find out more about that."
"You mean you want to learn about the 'birds and the bees'?" She was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggling fit. "If you're a day over fourteen, I'll eat my hat... which I happen not to be wearing just now. That's all we need, trouble with the authorities over contributing to the delinquency of a minor. I'll have someone escort you back to the front gate."
"No! Wait! I'm overage. I mean I'm of age. I'm eighteen and I came to learn about sex. They told me you do research on that. I don't know anything at all about sex. Nothing. Nothing at all. Zilch. My parents kept me ignorant. My friends never... they laughed at me when I asked. I was too scared to find out for myself. I'm a blank slate, the ideal guinea pig. You can take me apart, put me under a microscope, run experiments... do whatever you want with me. Just let me stay. Please."
"Oh, my. An unspoiled innocent. How quaint. How precious. I'm sure the good doctor will be amused."
"The good doctor is amused." A tall gray-haired man in a white lab coat stood in the doorway. His imperious gaze and ironic smile showed he was the master of all he surveyed. "It happens that we were looking for a suitable subject for certain studies. Your appearance is very timely, my lad."
Now this was living. Paul had a three-room suite all to himself, complete with bath and kitchen, and the ultimate luxury, a large-screen color TV. After a quick tour of the institute "campus," Dr. Abelian had shown him to his quarters. Until the Program began the next morning, Paul figured he could just lounge around in bed, eating barbecue potato chips and watching old movies and game show reruns.
Must have dozed off. It was dark. No, his eyes wouldn't open. Couldn't! A hysterical scream began bubbling up through his chest and throat. Then there was a cool hand on his forehead and a soothing voice in his ear.
"Relax, Paul. You're under light sedation. We're taking some preliminary readings on you before starting the first phase of the Program. There's a blindfold on your eyes to shut out extraneous sensory input. Relax. You're in good hands."
He recognized the voice of the naked woman with glasses. Damn, he still didn't know her name. The surface he was lying on felt soft and yielding. A disembodied voice was droning somewhere in the background, "Alpha waves peaking at... " He relaxed, and slowly sank back into dreamless oblivion.
Someone was pressing a cup of acid-tasting liquid to his lips. He choked and coughed some up. Orange juice. Argh! It burned going down. He ached all over, and there were twinges of pain behind his eyes. He moaned faintly.
"It's all right, Paul. These are just aftereffects of the mild anesthetic administered to you."
"Anesthetic? What the hell have you been doing to me?"
"We were evaluating your suitability for the Program. As it turns out, you show a good deal of potential. The next stage is to educate and train you in the various nuances of sex and lovemaking. Interested in continuing?"
Boy, was he ever.
"Now this is my pussy," Karen ("I despise that name -- call me Kari.") was saying. Her pubic triangle appeared to be the same shade of dusky blonde as the hair piled in a Psyche knot atop her head. She motioned him closer and pulled apart the lips to show him. "When I'm excited and anxious for a man, I get wet down here and inside me. That lets this -- " She indicated the growing bulge in his pants " -- slide into me more easily, and with more pleasure for both of us. It helps, though, if you rub me here -- " she indicated a small red protrusion just at the top of her split, " -- and perhaps, if you're so inclined, you might even use your mouth and tongue instead of your fingers."
As she guided him into her, he was thinking of all times he had fantasized about doing... something or other... with a woman, and how he had always come back down to earth frustrated and unfulfilled. Ah, but it was hot and slippery in there. Inside her. Deep in her moist darkness. Hot! She pulled his head down to her breasts and gave him a nipple to suck.
"Yes, Dr. Abelian, the instruction has been very satisfactory so far. I do hope I'm making a passing grade in the course."
"Call me Jarman, Paul. And yes, you're doing just fine. So far. Now, we'll be introducing you to some of the more advanced modalities of sexual expression.
"Women are fine as sex partners, but the highest level of sexual expression is joining with another of your own sex. Are you with me so far, Paul?"
"Well, uh, I guess, Dr... Jarman."
"The way a man achieves the most intense sensations from the sex act is by being the receptive partner. This means having another man's penis inserted into him, into his anal opening and full length up into his rectum. Now stop me if I'm going too fast for you or if this makes you squeamish."
"It's a bit difficult for me to accept actually, Jarman. You mean a guy pushes his erect penis into another guy's asshole, the place where the... the excrement comes out of? Wouldn't that hurt? And it stinks down there... it's unclean!"
"Come now, Paul. We try to stay openminded about such things here. If you desire to achieve sexual enlightenment, you'll need to be more flexible than that. Of course, if all this is too much for you, we'd be happy to furnish you with a bus ticket back to your home. Think about it."
.... There is more of this story ...