What a mess the world was. The newsmen had a new catchword: existential, replacing the old catchword: absolutely. Every crisis was existential. Anissa couldn’t stand it. Did they even know what existential meant? Something had to change. She thought meditation might be a good way to ease the tensions that were consuming her. She signed up for a private mediation session.

Her instructor told her that clothes got in the way of purity of thought. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in this together,” she assured Anissa. “You’ll find it’s very existential. Everything you need to know is right here in the book.” She helped Anissa get into position, lay a large book on the floor in front of Anissa, opened it to the middle, then shed her own clothing.

“One more thing, open you palms face up.” When Anissa’ hands were positioned, the instructor set a soft plastic ball in each palm. “I’ve selected these to be about the size of your breasts,” she said. “When your body begins to achieve the desired state, the balls will glow. You’ll feel it first in your nipples. I’ll just get you started, a little priming.”

“Ow,” Anissa yelped at the first pinch.

“Relax,” the instructor said. “Let your mind go blank and concentrate on the book.”

Anissa looked at the book. The letters were so tiny as to be invisible. The page might as well have been blank.

“There, doesn’t that feel good?” the instructor asked, her pinches continuing. “You should begin to feel it in your clit. I’m just going to check your breathing now.”

She stood behind Anissa and bent over. Their eyes met. Then the instructor bent even lower. Her lips touched Anissa’s nose. Then her lips. Her tongue pressed into Anissa’s mouth. It met the tip of Anissa’s tongue. She could feel the instructor’s pubis against the back of her head. She could feel the instructor’s hips undulating, a forward and backward motion, as her tongue continued to play in Anissa’ mouth. Anissa couldn’t help mimicking the motions with her own hips. She began sucking the instructor’s tongue. Her nipples began to tingle. Her clit too. She could smell the meadowy scent of her arousal. Her cunt was moistening. Soon she would—

The instructor stepped back. Someone else was in the room. A man. A naked man., Fuck, Anissa thought. So much for a private session, and just when... The man had flowing white hair, and soft white beard, and kind eyes. With a pillow he could be Santa Claus. He watched for a long moment, his thick cock coming erect. He stepped toward Anissa, then to the side. The instructor swiveled to that side. “Breathe,” she said to Anissa. “Breathe to the rhythm of our fuck.” The instructor bent forward. Anissa could feel the instructor’s breasts upon her head. She could feel the warmth and tickle of the instructor’s breath in her ear. She could hear the juicy squelch of the man’s cock fucking the instructor’s cunt from behind.

Her mind emptied of everything but the fuck. The orgasm was absolutely existential.