Perverted Visionary: A Descent into Madness and the Quest for Perfect Orgasm

Visionary

Some call me a visionary, others a nerd, but most call me perverted. That's why I'm in this institution, undergoing mundane group therapies, watching headcases substantiate their titles, and secretly flushing the medicinal concoctions I'm given daily. At first, I was angry; but have learned to become a passive drone, partially in self-preservation, and partially because the staff remains blissfully unaware that I continue my "disgusting" research with my true friend and co-conspirator at the lab. Cheryl is a true poster child for Walmart, disguised in a lab coat and coke bottle lenses that create a most annoying asthmatic nasal wheeze. Through clandestine weekly data transfer on the back blank pages of the novels she brings me during visiting hours, we are perfecting the libido serum I spent the better part of post graduate school developing. Once released from this "civilized" behavioral modification prison, we will distribute the serum under an "herbal" label liberally and earn an esteemed place in medical history for our discovery.
Perhaps a little background would be in order. I came from a two sibling christian conservative family that matured in a quiet suburban community. My folks were of the scientific persuasion, both had jobs in different research facilities. Their hours were long but their love for Jake (my brother) and myself was genuine and uncompromising, insuring our needs were always met with patience and understanding. Jake was my polar opposite; firstborn and highly protective, he pursued everything and anything masculine, excelling in physical activities while struggling with the academics. I was a relatively mousy scholarly type, excelling in the sciences while avoiding all but the mandatory social scenes. Jake eventually left home for a prestigious university on a football scholarship, and I graduated from a less prestigious university on a science scholarship. Following my parents' footsteps I was soon employed at a bio lab on the west coast, and Jake soon gained a foothold in a prominent legal office in the Midwest. The family always got together for holidays and special occasions as our love for one another was undeterred by distance.
Somewhere during my senior year in high school, I became curious about the opposite gender, but lacking the necessary social skills, I suffered a string of rejections until prom night, when the only remaining available male asked me to join him. Encouraged – no forced by my family, I timidly accepted, and experienced a crash course in the alien world of make-up and social amenities. Fortunately, my nerd date, Riley, was also quite inexperienced and we spent the frustrating evening learning from our collective mistakes. The following week, I enrolled in several introductory level courses at the college, and was mildly surprised when Riley called and offered dinner at a fairly upscale seafood restaurant. Fearing familial reprisal, I accepted and grudgingly pulled my formal gown from the plastic sheath it hand been stored in since the day my Mother purchased it for me.
The meal was surprisingly tasteful, and the conversation barely tolerable. With a little too much Chablis, I accepted his offer for a drive in his new convertible. We drove along the starlit seas somewhat apprehensively until he parked in a remote overlook and nervously offered a kiss. It was tolerable, but when I looked over his thin frame, freckle speckled face, and thick black rimmed glasses; I knew it would take an act of divine intervention to pass first base and feigned nausea. Although he graciously accepted my apology, he never called again.
By my junior year, I had established my academic competence, and was enlisted to help tutor the the freshman newbies floundering with entry level equations. One of the students was a "jock" with the mathematical aptitude as a Precambrian rock, but with masculine assets that triggered my primal urges. Despite my best efforts of concealment, Brad was aware of my attraction, and on the third session he convinced me to expose parts of my anatomy only my doctor had seen before. It was a turning point in my career and my life, as his exposed engorged apparatus inspired both awe and inspiration that would soon dominate my conscious thought. Far from knowledgeable in the art of female stimulation, his beautiful organ was more than sufficient arousal to sustain his brutal assault on my virginity. My battered vagina was quickly filled with his ejaculate despite my best efforts to introduce foreplay. He was gone before I could recover.
Some might refer to the encounter as date rape, but for me it was a marvelous sexual awakening. His magnificent organ, a thick throbbing mindlessly sensitive tool, was able to expose his vulnerabilities while fulfilling my own with brutally beautiful efficiency unmatched in the natural world. I immediately immersed myself in the myriad of media dedicated to human sexuality and was surprised to find the fleeting nature of its induced euphoria. Usually, within a few years of initial bonding, the rapture dwindled into memory for all but a fortunate few. Differing coping mechanisms from medicinal supplements to multiple partners were often tried, until inevitably, the initial euphoria was replaced with material substitutes that eventually proved themselves woefully inadequate. Described in one text as the "human condition," I rejected the common adage of acceptance and immediately began to compile research on the origins of sexual abandonment.
I met Cheryl during one of my fact finding missions to a rest home. Enthusiastic and curious, she assisted me during my interviews, often able to extract critical information with ease. During a break over a cup of surprisingly well brewed coffee, I learned she was woefully inexperienced and had conceded to spend her life void of sexual fulfillment. We connected immediately, and I disclosed my research motives and objectives which she gleefully acknowledged and vowed her complete support. With gentle encouragement, I soon convinced her to get back into the "meat market," and her life soared. On several occasions we shared our partners and even experimented with each other sexually. We became inseparable, sharing an apartment and experiences with trusted confidence few shared.
Once I was securely established with PenChem, I was given access to their vast chemical procurement accounts and high end laboratories. Immediately I began formulating potential fertility serums from both known and untested aphrodisiacs. Preliminary results were disastrous, and the multitude of required test prohibitive. On several occasions, I suspended my efforts to maintain my grips with reality. During these breaks, I would pursue my experiences with the beautiful organ that offered an endless variety of sensations. I learned the critical interaction of the minds' overall contribution to fulfillment, and the mental triggers that needed to be enhanced to provide the highest and prolonged level of orgasmic release. Cheryl contributed her perspectives eagerly, often employing the sum of our collective observations on some unsuspecting candidate. Although our physical attributes were not conducive to attracting our male counterparts, our attitudes and techniques spawned a continual supply of potential suitors. We kept our encounters brief and noncommittal to avoid stereotyping, while reinforcing new techniques to insure the highest level of mutual satisfaction was mutually achieved.
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