They have holographic projections of reporters on news channels nowadays. CNN shows someone projected from someplace else talking to Wolf Blitzer. Must be an army technology or something. Isn't everything initially motivated by military intent?
In any case, this one Sunday, Times Square had a surprise. Nobody knew how it happened. Nobody knew how the technology was managed. They need all sorts of screens to manage a tiny hologram, but what happened in Times Square showed some extraordinarily advanced technology. Because there were no screens there. There was just one massive hologram.
Tourists were all over the place. Times Square was, is and always will be sensory overload. A million sounds assaulting your ears. Colors, garish, mellow, full spectrum, doing a dance in front of your eyes. Food truck smells, ice cream smells, thousand dollar suit and cologne smells, cheap dollar shirt sweat smells. And people. White, black, Indian, Chinese, Mexican, races they haven't invented yet - and all ages. Times Square at its quietest is crazier than any other place at its craziest.
So when the giant fifty foot hologram appeared, everyone was astounded. There was no sound to it. It was simply an animated hologram. It was as quiet as the ghost of a shy librarian without a larynx, but it was visible. Starkly, in multicolor. This was Blu-ray's granddaddy - this was as if the hologram was really there. It was technology that got lots of geeks cumming in their pants. Radioshack had a sea of juices to deal with that day. Seriously.
It was one man and one woman. They were both fifty feet tall, and stark naked. He looked Native American, built like a surfer, lean and hard, with dark hair and intelligent and sparkling black eyes. He sported a cock that was erect and fell halfway down his thighs, and balls that were more than proportionally large. Well hung wouldn't begin to describe the package. She looked Caucasian, pale with just a hint of a tan, with golden blonde hair that was loose and fell to her shoulders, with penetrating blue eyes and breasts that could have graced the Playboy centerfold and a derriere that was without competition. She had a thick, black brambles between her legs, as though she were unafraid to proclaim that her blonde hair was a dye job.
They did it. Silently. In every way possible.
He pushed her on the shoulders and put his cock in her mouth. She wolfed it down, rotated her head around and sucked it to high heaven. She took it deep within, into her throat. She gagged. Saliva and pre cum fell down her chin and her breasts. She tea bagged him and played with his balls. He caught her hair and rubbed his cock all over her face. Then he pulled her up, and kissed her, and they ate each other's mouths while he fingered her cunt and she rubbed his cock. Then they did the plain old baby making type of fucking, but they did it doggy style. She screamed out silently, and he seemed to be saying something encouraging her. Nasty sex talk probably, in some language. Lip readers would analyze it later. Then they went for the anal damage stuff. He slipped his cock out of her cunt, and forced it into her anus, with her tentative approval. She winced, and then he sped up, fucking her in the ass. He caught her chin as though he were abusing her. He slapped her buttocks while fucking her anus. It was insanely brutal sex that both of them enjoyed in every way. It was very consensual, and everyone at Times Square got an eyeful.
Then he came. She turned around, and took him in the mouth again, and his balls silently exploded. His cock was a rebel and leaped out of her mouth and shot multiple spurts in her hair and on her face. She was a wet dripping mess, every last inch covered with his prolific seed.
Then he got down on his knees, while she lay back, and he fingered and licked her to orgasm. She appeared to be yelling out in delight, but no one heard it. They saw every last bit though. Her body shuddered and then she arched back and her copious spurts could be seen bathing his dark face.
Then they did it again. Every last bit was changed in some way. Not doggy style this time. Gagging had a different detail. She sat on his face. He fucked her tits. She dominated him for a bit and slapped and whipped him. Then they came again, together this time. Their spurts were every drop as prolific, which was another marvel.
Then they did it again. Third time. They used more fingers and a dildo and a vibrator this time. Again they blew enormous loads of messy goo.
It was a three hour porn movie. Silent. Larger than life. In the heart of the big apple. The big apple had been defiled in some way.
The traffic in and out of Times Square was the mother goddess of all cluster fucks. Lots of people wanted to get out, because this was ridiculous. People with kids, people who supervised kids, family people, etc, etc. Lots of people wanted to get in, because ATNT, Verizon and all the major networks were jammed with phone calls from people calling people about the silent holographic movie.
Mrs. Esperanza muttered furiously as she tried to get her middle school class out of there, while her precocious students wanted to watch while they could. They'd never ever worry about the sexual content of a movie, the rest of their scarred lives. Little children's parents were furious. Their kids learned all there was to know about the birds and the bees well before their time and laughed out loud. Taxi drivers had a mixed reaction. Mr. Jones masturbated in his taxi, because no one was really interested in what he was doing. The action was up there, like a giant wart on your date's forehead, staring you in the face. Mr. Mustafa complained loudly, chewing up the ear of Mrs. Pliny, a suburban mom from New Jersey. Their lifelong affair started that day.
Vendors from different shops had different reactions. Those that complained watched it and complained, and returned from their shops to complain again and again, and to shake their heads furiously while they perversely enjoyed it. Sometimes the most vociferous protesters enjoy what they are protesting the most. That's why you have child abuse and pederasty showing up in religious institutions. Those that didn't complain were easy enough to read. A whole set of postures from the Kama Sutra being depicted in front of your eyes gets your loins heated up, even if you label yourself asexual.
Sometimes porn drives technology, doesn't it? We all want to watch the dirty stuff, but we pretend we're like that mother superior figure with a poker rod up her ass, pretending that sex is dirty, and that porn is dirty. True, they're two different things, but we want the absolutely smutty, filthy, dirty, this is embarrassing now that I blew my wad stuff too. Some want erotica, not porn. Porn is a dirty word. So they draw a line somewhere. They decide that one label includes internal action as well, while the other stays purely external. Perhaps that is true. Who knows? A complex set of questions requires some complex thinking.
Then the hologram disappeared. Just like that. The man and the woman had reached climax thrice, with no perceivable fatigue, and then they stood up, both dripping messes, and embraced one another, as though they were the ending of a romance movie, except for the clothes part. Then the hologram disappeared. One moment it was there, the next moment there was only space.
The major news networks recorded it all, and changed their news story from the war they were covering and the raccoon scaring a baby in some suburban neighborhood to the Times Square porno movie story. Everyone was outraged. Pundits got red in the face and wondered what this would do to a world with already depleted morals. Pastors, priests, Rabbis, Mullahs, all opinionated.
The holographic projection was blurred on the news. That made no difference of course. Thank you youtube! Everyone and their uncle's dog's flea had seen a copy within a day. A whole generation of kids learned lots of things that one day. Ain't no stork baby. Ain't no fucking stork!