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t who try it end up as
Literature professors, and vanish up their own...never mind. And describing
my eyes is vain, when they can change as easily as my beard, or your friend
down there who rose to greet you." Ai Takamatsu giggled, and blew a kiss to return the
greeting. "The acyclic tantra is to describe your direct feelings, your bodily
feelings. Do you want to try that?"
"How can I describe anything while you tickle me so?"
"Don't just be tickled; feel tickled. What is the feeling?"
"It's all down the front of me, like pain, but it's not pain."
"How is it different?"
"I don't know---yes, I do, pain always feels under the skin, this is like a
hundred points of pain dancing just outside, not coming in, but my muscles
feel as if they must move, to fight pain, more and more ready to move, but I
don't move, do I, Thomas? I don't think someone running *could* be tickled,
though they could itch. I don't move, my hands are holding the muscles of
your shoulders, I can feel the firmness of them, and my feet can feel your
waist, a bit softer and looser, I'm holding you there too, and down there I
can feel---of course, that's *John* Thomas---just the end of him, pressing a
little where the feeling is like burning cold ice, only soft, and melting,
and trying to dissolve him,
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