3 perspectives on the future of intimacy #2
Supermammal is a uniquely personal experience. At first, I was shy to try it . When my friend called me on a warm summer afternoon about this SM party, my response was harsh: “What kind of zoophiliac perverts are you guys? Collectively fucking a freak of nature?”
I was downright wrong.
I think I needed an excuse to override my prejudices about pain and pleasure. To be more specific: genetically engineered pleasure.
My longtime boyfriend leaving me for another man — was the out I desperately needed. For I had, as a middle-aged woman who worried about her sexually active years slipping away one by one, decided to try anything and everything.
My quest in life became to understand what sex is and why(or how) it is done. I was as purposeful as an arrow leaving its bow. I was gonna start with the most extreme of sexual extremities: A SuperMammal Slide.
It is called a slide since each person has to slide from one segment of the SM to another. Whoever finishes every segment of the animal first, gets the big prize.
The Slide was one of the most challenging SM games out there, since it required copious amounts of copulation. Although I knew I wasn’t endowed with such stamina, I decided to give it a shot.
I thought to myself, if I can survive this, I can survive anything (or 55% of those other things on my to do list).
The big day came. I grabbed my organic lubricant and my energy drink and went to see SuperMammal.
The first thought: It is big.
The second thought: It is disgusting.
The third thought: What the heck am I doing here?
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Although I had seen pictures of SM before, I was nowhere close to being prepared .
I picked up my lubricant and energy drink and headed towards the door. A tall young gentleman with nerdy glasses who saw me leaving stopped me. Tightly holding my shoulder, he said: “ I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, it is a uniquely personal experience, and you’ll regret it if you miss out on it.” I said, “Okay,” in a squeaky thin voice trembling in shock upon the sight of SM.
The Slide begins with a “warm up,” which involves caressing the animal, fondling its organs and touching or kissing each other. Then one by one, we started sitting on it.
After everybody was plugged in, we started a rhythmic wave of hip movements, pulsating in unison with lukewarm, tender pleasure.
We kept going like that for about eight minutes, then we started “sliding” — each person moving up to sit on the next segment with the person in the foremost segment going to the back, etc. Crazy, huh?
I should say I was stunned by how “human” the skin-to-skin experience felt.
SuperMammal was pleasantly warm and nice inside of me and oddly enough I could feel its other penises move in other people. I could feel its many vaginas gradually expand and contract. It was serving all of us at once, silently, unifying us under the same sensation.
Once upon a time, a dance teacher I had told me that life is nothing but rhythm. I hadn’t given it much thought then, as I have a tendency to shut down during dance and yoga classes the moment I detect the slightest hint of new agey blabber.
Under this new light of being hooked up to a SM, as I undulated with some twenty other people, I realized what she meant.
My thighs were shaking with the rhythm of its multiple genitalia. My heart was beating to the rhythm of its many hearts. My mind stained by the queer color of intimacy, I felt something about me which I would like to call “my soul,” ripple with the rhythm of its synapses.
Not some fancy plastic sex toy, not an animal, definitely not a human, its mere presence defied all the known categories of life and being.
Closely attached to its nervous system, I closed my eyes, melting in an alien bliss of inter-species love.
I had no choice but to accept SuperMammal.