Goldenrod Extended Ch. 02

"Hello, and welcome to this meeting of Dealing With Impotence. We have a new member today. Mark, would you introduce yourself?"

"Hi, everybody. I'm Mark, and I can't get it up."

"Tell us your story."

"Okay. Well, it's been a recurring problem for me. I'm not in a relationship now, but I want to come to grips with this before I start another one, no pun intended." There was laughter from the bunch. "A connection with a girl is made, we start dating, everything is fine, and right when it starts to get serious, I'm droopy."

"Do you believe it's psychological, then?"

"It must be."

"It's a fear of commitment?"

"I guess so. The sex at first is fine, and then something changes. Isn't it always a fear? If it were physiological then counseling wouldn't help."

"Actually, Mark, we have friends here tonight who are physically unable to become aroused, and they need our support." Two of the men waved at me.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize."

"It's alright. Learning is a part of the process. There are, in fact, many causes of male impotence. For some people, pharmaceuticals in the water supply are to blame, while others believe it's stress created by our ever-quickening, technological society. No one factor can explain every problem." A man in a chair across from me coughed, and I glanced at him, noticing his newspaper on the wooden floor at his feet. The headline read GOLDEN FLOWER APPEARS TO HUNDREDS, and below it was a picture of the backs of several people as they stared at a meteorological disturbance.

"Women steal our life energy, that's what does it!"

"Okay, Stephen, we'll all have a chance to speak at the end," the leader said.

"I'd like to pose a question, now," another man interjected gruffly.

"Ralph, can it wait?"

"No, this concerns all of us, not my opinion."

"Go ahead."

"Lately, some of our brothers haven't been seen at these groups. Joe and Dave haven't been here for three weeks, now why aren't we talking about that? And Pat and Troy stopped coming before them. Does anybody know why? I thought we were supposed to be a tight-knit crew. We're meant to look out for each other."

"There have been unsavory characters hanging around outside the building!" the skinny one named Stephen yelled. "Female types!"

"Now, Ralph, you see? You're getting Stephen riled. Everybody just relax." The men were shuffling nervously in their seats, and grumbling. "If our members haven't been showing up, we'll just have to assume they're not interested in coming, and wish them well."

"I thought that was the whole point," I said. The room was silent.

When the session finally ended, we filed out the front entrance of the gymnasium, and the clicking of cigarette lighters in the night air drowned out the chorus of grasshoppers. As the men divided into smaller numbers with different trajectories, I observed a huddle of women across the street similarly breaking up to pursue them, each keeping a careful distance from her assigned quarry, and moving at a leisurely pace.

"Hey, Ralph, who are they?" I asked the older man as he donned his hat.

"Mm? Oh, they're here sometimes. I think they're part of a new fringe culture that finds impotent men irresistible. They probably meet on the internet," he said, and departed.

"Thanks." I decided to wait and see the last of them off, but as I stood there one of the girls remained on the sidewalk, mirroring my stare and smiling. Momentarily she approached me, and I took in her appearance. She wore Mary Jane shoes and navy blue tights under a light, semi-transparent skirt that fell past her knees, and her gray t-shirt hung loosely beneath a black denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves. Her long, blond hair was parted in the middle and fell straight in front and behind her. It framed a strong-jawed face with a nose that was slightly too large and beady eyes that seemed locked on me. The outfit suggested her curves were feminine, but also revealed her build was extremely solid. Altogether, her features proved powerfully attractive.

"Hi, I'm Amy," she said when she'd reached me.

"Mark."

"You live near here? I'm new to the area, and need someone to guide me around. Would you help me?"

"What do you need to find?" I asked.

"I'll know when I see it," she said. In a few moments we were walking hand in hand, and a quick look down the street informed me that other men who'd attended the gathering were enjoying exactly the same good fortune. She managed to distract me from the oddity of the situation by continuing to look straight through me. "That's my car," she said, pointing. I shrugged and got in.

While we rode, she activated the dashboard telephone. A young woman's voice answered.

"Beehive."

"This is Amy 43. I have one passenger. What's a nice place to stay for the evening?"

"Are you equipped?"

"Yes."

"Standby." During the long pause that followed she ignored me with the same vehemence she'd displayed in studying me, her focus remaining on the road. "Nothing available," the dispatcher responded.

"There must be. Look again."

"Try a motel." Amy fumed.

"Karen doesn't like motels, anymore. There was a memo, recently. Please advise."

"Why don't we go to my place?" I asked, and she silenced me with a warning glower.

"You're cleared at the tower," the voice came back after six seconds.

"Copy," she said, and the connection was terminated. "You're in for quite a treat." She made a U-turn at the next traffic stop.

"Navigational computers are really sophisticated these days." Her eyes fell on me briefly.

Downtown, we pulled into the subterranean garage of a fifty story office building. A petite, uniformed, female security guard scanned the ID badge Amy pulled from her skirt pocket, and allowed us access to the elevator. The doors closed and it rose without either of us pressing any buttons. When it dinged, we stepped into a luxury suite with a panoramic view of the city, on the forty-seventh floor.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, and headed immediately for the bedroom with her big purse. I took off my shoes and plunked down on the huge red couch. When I noticed a remote control beside me, I picked it up and clicked-on the big screen television.

The first thing to appear was a white male symbol on a blue background. A sideways white female symbol slid into the frame horizontally so that the cross entered the circle of the first icon. When that happened, the color of the screen changed to pink and a three-tone chime sounded. Then the cursive word Femtel faded-in, under the hybrid symbol.

"Tonight at eight, the modern classic, 'Olga the Impaler'," a woman's voice said. "Then, at ten-thirty..." I changed the channel. On the next network a twenty-something woman standing in combat boots was holding a naked man by the hips, fucking him vigorously with a strap-on dildo in a featureless room, and grunting loudly with every thrust. That prompted me to surf. The porn was replaced with a similar scene shot so the heads of both people faced the camera, the lady sighing with pleasure as she rocked and the young man receiving her with a dazed and tear-streaked expression. Yet again, I lowered my thumb. Another couple stood in a castle hall, the male in only a red harness about his neck and chest and the female in nothing but a green one that hugged her hips and crotch. Switching once more, I saw a soft-lit soap opera featuring an attractive woman in a dark business suit, consoling a man dressed as a doctor on the sofa of a mansion's sitting room. She produced a pair of handcuffs from the end table drawer, and he nodded reluctantly.

"Cable sucks," I said, turning it off.

"Miss me?" Amy asked, over my shoulder. I turned to see her wearing her navy tights, a black bra, and a strap-on harness like the ones that had been on TV. She had obviously been expecting my shocked reaction, and savored it fully.

"What are you planning to do with that?" She spryly and happily sat on the cushion adjacent to mine.

"Well, you're impotent, and I need to get laid, so I guess I'm going to have to fuck you with it." She took my hands and waited for consent.

"I'm not impotent, though, really," I stammered.

"Of course you are," she said with a laugh. "That's why you were at the meeting. Don't shine me on." I sighed.

"I think that would hurt," I said, hoping to reason with her.

"Tremendously," she agreed, "and just wait 'till I get going." I threw my hands up.

"Oh, as long as we're clear," I said in resignation. The lube glistened on her impressive teal shaft like a winking eye. She reached behind her head, and folded her long hair into a crude knot.

Ten minutes later I had stripped and gotten on all fours upon the plush rug, and Amy had her left hand on my butt to steady me, while with her right she fed the phallus into my waiting asshole. The belt-like fastener creaked when she tightened it, and then I felt both her palms on my cheeks as her hips acquired a gentle swaying motion. Instinctively, I lowered my head to the floor. For about four minutes she had me like that with girlish delight, her pumping almost imperceptibly growing more adamant as she plowed. There was no mistaking the clawing of her nails on my backside however, which was urgent and angry the entire time. Eventually her exhalation loudened and the slamming took on a vaguely robotic efficiency. I was bumped roughly by her endeavors.

Her hands moved to my hips, and clamped there. Then as suddenly, she stopped thumping and reached down for my ankles, which she pulled up like the brakes on a sled, causing my ass to drop with her dick still inserted into it. My legs straightened out at either side of her calves on the carpet. Forced that way into the prone position, I sensed her fists landing beside my midsection, and her head hovering two feet or so above my back. She harshly drove her hips down, completely burying her rod in me with each mighty slap of her beautiful thighs against my own. Her casual attitude implied she was watching the piston with curious fascination. Nevertheless, she sent shock waves through me.

Something set her off, and she had to amp it up. She slid her left arm under mine, bringing her hot mouth to the nape of my neck, and I felt her fingers curl over my deltoid. Poised to really hammer me, she snapped her pretty hips at my rump to sharply inject the cock repeatedly. My body shook helplessly as her mouth-breathing got even more ragged, and then forward lunging joined her technique, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Her abdominal crunches delivered brutal shocks.

"Damn, I love fucking impotent men," she snarled, half out of her mind with excitement.

"Actually, I'm not..." Her left hand returned to the floor and the right landed on my spine to support her lovely torso, as her head was raised above me. The volley that followed was deft and rapid. A strand of drool zigzagged along my ribs. "Oh, Amy!" I cried in spite of myself, "you're incredible!"

"Yeah!" she cheered, and pulled on my left hip as she returned to a kneeling position, so we were again in doggy. Her hands bit into my waist and she fucked as quickly and viciously as her hard body would let her, and I began to scream. "Take it, you bastard!" My feet covered her ankles as she continued accelerating, and the rate finally changed to a slow, steady thudding that culminated in one prolonged press of her crotch to my posterior. Digging her toes involuntarily into the shag, she let out a long sigh, and shivered.

"Marry me," I begged.

All of a sudden, the lights in the large room became dim. The TV flickered and the image of a golden lotus whistled from it. Music and news were warped in screeches from the stereo. An explosion removed the bar blender from existence.

"What the hell's happening?" We separated and I grabbed my clothes, preparing to evacuate. Amy retreated to the bedroom.

"It must be an electrical surge!" she cried, and I heard the locking of a panic room door.

"Great," I said, finding myself alone as the sprinklers came on. On my left I noticed the wall-mounted bookshelves swinging free of their mooring, exposing to view a secret passageway. I raised my eyebrows and made for it.

In the narrow hallway beyond the facade, things were marginally quieter, but I didn't feel safe. I followed the path to its end, at a round white room with a high-tech casket in its center that resembled an iron lung. All around had been placed roses, long since withered. Inside was a female figure, draped in a black shroud.

"Margaret," I said, reading the plate on the head of the box. A klaxon sounded, and I caught sight of the emergency stairwell entrance at the far side of the chamber. I took that route out of the building.

Looking up at the skyscraper, I saw a swirl of black clouds crowning the upper floors as lightning battered the windows. Glass rained like confetti on the hysterical crowds that streamed around arriving emergency vehicles. Each flash in the sky sent down the vision of an auric blossom as it illuminated the raging vortex of fog.

"My God," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I just had a girl's dick up my ass."