My date with the Virtual Sex Machine

I inserted myself into the pink stimulation chamber and hit Play.

Topics: Sex, Pornography, Love and Sex,

My date with the Virtual Sex Machine

As we move closer to the day when robots rule, it’s only fitting that their mechanical hegemony is concentrating on our crotches. This could be the era of the techno-masturbator. And at the vanguard of self-abuse is the Virtual Sex Machine (VSM) — a $400 soldier in the battle of penis domination.

The VSM had its humble beginnings in a remote town near Windsor, Penn. — in Amish country. Not that any of these Old World descendants will ever try this techno hand job for themselves. If they only knew that one of their neighbors, 36-year-old entrepreneur Eric White, created what he feels is the next big thing in porn.

“This is the first thing to add a new dimension to sex. This is the first thing to actually let you feel what that porn star you worship is doing,” White says. “It is the definition of virtual sex, plain and simple.”

The cybersex experience of the VSM depends on four components: a computer with a Windows-based operating system (avoid thinking of Bill Gates having sex here), the Sex Machine CD-ROM, the Sex Machine computer interface, and the granddaddy of all sex devices, the Virtual Sex Machine Penis Stimulator Chamber.

The chamber resembles a huge pink light saber in mid-erection. On one end (the light saber’s handle) is the motor encased in shiny latex, painted the ubiquitous sex-toy glossy black. On the other end (light saber’s flaccid end) is 8 inches of a ribbed, hot-pink worm surrounded by a clear plastic sheath.

This giant pink worm is where the dick goes.

In the 1983 sci-fi thriller “Brainstorm,” starring Christopher Walken and Natalie Wood, there’s a virtual reality helmet that allows people to feel other people’s experiences. Naturally, sex is on the top of the list, and one character hooks himself into a nonstop sex loop of some flouncy blonde bobbing like a cork on his cock. The intense virtual-sex experience leaves him a quivering, drooling wreck.

The Virtual Sex Machine isn’t like that.

What the Virtual Sex Machine is like starts with loading the VSM CD-ROM onto your computer. You click on the Virtual Sex Machine icon and you’re ready to rock. A photo menu pops up showing five girls engaging in various lewd acts for you to choose from (you can buy additional CD-ROMs, such as ménage à trois, exotics, and “all sucking”).

The videos are part of the Home Grown video series and feature performers such as overly enthusiastic cocksucker Mika Lee. But there’s also a handful of amateurs like Heather — the kind of girl you’d find servicing truckers at a highway rest stop — or Maxine, the goth girl most likely to listen to the Cure during Wiccan ceremonies.

For my cherry-popping foray into techno jacking off I indulged my Asian fetish with the lovely Mika. The idea behind the Penis Stimulator Chamber is that its built-in vibrator and suction will mimic the movements of the performer you choose on the CD-ROM. When the performer goes down, the machine mechanism goes down. When she comes up for air the machine squiggles up. Real-life sucking is replaced by a vacuum pump.

When I hit Play, Mika appeared on-screen and the chamber whirred to simulated life, humming like a hive of angry bees. The big pink worm began twisting and contracting like a respirator pump. For some reason I imagined this scary Cronenburg-esque contraption would have teeth inside.

With the help of some very slick lubricant, the “stimulation chamber” was not as cold as I thought it would be when I slid my hesitant cock inside. The fit was actually pretty snug. Did it feel like Mika’s moist mouth would? I’ll never know. As the machine pumped up and down and the vacuum squeezed my cock into some pink shrink-wrapped-looking sausage, Mika was probably going to town on some lucky guy’s real schlong.

Meanwhile, I got the simulation. Like a Godzilla movie where the Japanese mouths aren’t quite in sync with the English words, the VSM wasn’t quite in sync with Mika’s loving-me-long-time action on the screen. She zigged, it zagged. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it also wasn’t making my legs tremble with pleasure.

Maybe it was because I was sitting down, I thought. I’m being too passive. So I tried standing up. I clicked on the full-screen link and watched Mika’s head expand into almost human-size proportions on my flat-screen Dell. (The resolution isn’t as clean as in the tiny Windows Media Player box, but it’s still pretty good.) Fortunately, the VSM comes with plenty of cable connection for freedom of movement, allowing the machine to do its job.

By this time Mika’s head was moving up and down like a piston, but I wasn’t getting into it. And why the hell would I be? Standing in my socks, in the middle of the afternoon, with blankets over my windows, and my dick inside some huge pink/black worm larva machine watching porn on my computer would be all the ingredients required to freak anyone out. Right?

I thought: Is this the future of sex? If it is, so be it.

As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “Buy the ticket, take the ride,” and I wasn’t taking the damn thing off until I came.

I decided to try my luck with another performer. Morgan has that girl-next-door charm with a healthy streak of slut. Perfect. The problem I discovered almost immediately was that she spends about five minutes bantering with the cameraman about orgies she has had with her girlfriend. And since the VSM mimes the movements on the screen, nothing is happening during her soliloquy.

My erection started to deflate like a freshman asking for a dance.

I skipped ahead to get some action and the machine started its grinding when Morgan began her oral exercises. But as I watched her eyes, my excitement faded. Her eyes didn’t have joy in them — and she reminded me of my cousin.

My cousin. How’s she doing? I should call her sometime …

Christ. If this machine were doing its job I wouldn’t be drifting off like this. I needed to focus. Out with chatty Morgan and in with the optimistically named Sunnydaze. Dirty blonde. Hopped up on drugs. Slurred speech. Trampy glint in her eye. Yes, she’d do nicely. Not a lot of small talk from Sunny. She’s all business.

This was better but, like spaghetti sauce, it still needed a little extra spice. One weakness is that the VSM doesn’t have the same oomph as a pussy or a mouth or even a hand. The grip just isn’t there. It’s the difference between opening up a two-liter of Coke and hearing its loud shhht! and opening up the same two-liter a week later and hearing that sad ffft, and knowing it’s as flat as Britney Spears’ acting career.

The sad VSM motor needed a little help and I decided the only way I was going to get my rocks off was to start stroking the chamber up and down on my cock. It was like giving a hand job to the machine. I figured while it was gripping my dick with its vibrating, sucking action I’d jerk it off.

Yes. Not bad. Focus. Focus. Ah Sunny, you’re a naughty girl aren’t you?


You like that? Yeah baby. You know you want it.

By this time sweat was forming on my shoulders from jerking off my new enormous, freak-show cock with both hands.

Where do you want it, Sunny? You little tramp.

Sunny was on her back, arching her breasts into the air as she sucked dick. She was grabbing on tight. Tighter. Tighter …

I was ramming the VSM into my pelvis with the force of a hammer.

That’s it. Yes. Oh. Yes.

Boom. I shot my load into a giant, humming pink larva on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.

My God, what have I become?

I hit Stop.

When I pulled my technologically abused member out of its now gummy pink sheath, it was a strange color purple. Is that a popped blood vessel? My cock looked at me with sadness in its eye, as if to say “Why?”

From Page 13 of the Virtual Sex Machine user’s manual: “Take it to your sink — any excess fluid should drain out at this point.” I cleaned it as best I could, but there was a disconcerting creamy fluid that wouldn’t flush out no matter what I did. Best not to think about it. The manual says to let it air-dry, so I stuck it in the dish rack and hoped for no unexpected guests.

When my girlfriend got home and saw the pink monster in the sink she asked me how it went.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I assured her.

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